#when was the last time I used that tag who knows

[sincerelyneo]

i wanna be yours | p.js

“secrets i have held in my heart are harder to hide than i thought”

💿now playing: i wanna be yours by arctic monkeys

❯ summary: Jisung has known for years that his best friend, Chenle’s, sister is his. So there’s no way he’s going to sit back and watch another man touch you—especially not now, when he’s already had a taste of you.

❯ pairings: jisung x fem!reader

❯ genre: smut, brother’s best friend

❯ words: 3.8k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, swearing, marking, possessiveness, unprotected sex (don’t do this), dirty talk, fingering, manhandling, jealousy, slightly toxic, praise, squirting, creampies, jisung has something to prove, arguing, older reader, jisung just being jealous and obsessive for almost 4k words

an: first post of 2025 and it’s an idea that i started writing on the bus lol. (also i’m a firm believer of the jisung is very possessive and clingy agenda)

Jisung could sit here and lie, say that the only reason he’s white-knuckling his fist right now is because he’s protective of you. He could lie and say that he’s just worried about the guy who’s currently got his arm around your waist because you’re his best friend’s sister. He could lie and say he’s just concerned—but he’s not.

He’s jealous.

So fucking jealous.

But he has no right to be. You’re Chenle’s older sister. You can handle yourself—you’ve told him that plenty of times, mocking him with that stupid fucking ‘Jisungie’ nickname you used to call him when you were all just kids.

And still, he watches the way you laugh at something the guy says, your head tilting back just enough to make his chest burn. He knows that laugh. He’s heard it a thousand times before, he loves it, but tonight, it feels different—feels wrong. Your laugh is not meant for this guy. It’s not meant for anyone else but him for that matter. 

Jisung knows he should look away before it becomes too obvious—obvious that he likes you, obvious that he's jealous, obvious that he can’t get you out of his head. But that’s hard to do when just ten minutes ago he had you pressed up against the wall of your childhood room—the same wall you share with Chenle—his cock pounding into you from behind without mercy, and you’d let him. Loved it.

How can he stay composed when that asshole has his hand on his girl’s—Chenle’s sister’s—waist? Jisung jolts as he hears his teeth grind together—fuck, was that his jaw clenching? Safe to say he’s passed subtlety. 

He sucks in a breath. This is Chenle’s birthday party, stop thinking about his sister you idiot. 

Actually, fuck that. 

Because why is that stranger’s hand moving up your thigh so easily? Why does your breath hitch when he leans in closer? Call him toxic; he doesn’t care. But Jisung wishes he hadn’t let you put your panties back on, so that asshole could see—no, feel—his cum dripping out of you as his hand traces your thigh right now.

He scoffs and nurses his drink. Keep calm, it’s Chenle’s birthday. 

Speak of the devil—almost on cue, Jisung feels his best friend slap him on the shoulders with a shout. He glances over his shoulder to see Chenle, clearly drunk, and while he usually hates dealing with his wild, inebriated antics, he appreciates that his best friend is oblivious to the way Jisung is currently eyeing his older sister tonight.

He settles into the empty seat next to Jisung with a grunt. “Y/N forgot my cake. One job that girl had,” Chenle shakes his head, guzzling down the last of his beer before grabbing another and cracking it open.

“She was probably preoccupied,” Jisung shrugs, trying to dismiss any thought of you from his mind. He doesn’t exactly know the right way to tell his friend that his sister was too busy being preoccupied on his cock, and that’s why she forgot his birthday cake. 

Chenle scoffs, “She’s always preoccupied. Look at her,” he gestures toward you. “I think I heard her with that guy earlier. Traumatizing.” He visibly shakes and squeezes his eyes shut.

“It wasn’t him,” Jisung growls.

Chenle swats his hand in the air, already halfway through that new beer bottle. “Yeah, yeah. Doesn’t matter who it was, still traumatizing.”

Jisung nods and purses his lips. But to him, it does matter because it was him. Him who made you pant so desperately, him who filled you so completely that your legs wobbled, and he had to hold you steady, his fingertips imprinted into your hips. Him who made you cum. Him. Always him. And right now, he wanted to make sure that it was only him. 

The sound of Chenle snoring in the seat next to him pulls Jisung from his thoughts and back to where he feels most at home—you. He swears he could find you in seconds; you’re like a magnet, an obsession in his mind. You’re all he can think about, all he’s ever been able to think about, and now that he’s had you, he’s never you letting go. Call him a maniac.

With Chenle undoubtedly crashed out, his eyes find you and the sight of you leaning in closer to that guy, lips almost touching, ignites a fire in him. He sees red—hot, undeniable crimson. Without a thought, he storms over. That’s not true, he’s been thinking about it for the past twenty minutes. 

“Y/N!” he calls out, but not to get your attention, to stop your lips connecting with that asshole, who Jisung is certain he’d be able to take in a fight. 

You turn, surprise flickering in those pretty eyes he loves, and that’s all it takes for Jisung to reach you. He steps between you and the guy, his chest heaving, anger palpable. Without giving you a moment to process, his rough hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you back to your childhood bedroom.

Your own wave of crimson flushes over your body as the pink walls come into view and the lock you’d begged your parents for during puberty clicks into place. Jisung had been in your room countless times as kids, when you dressed him and Chenle up like dolls or begged them to play board games. But now, knowing he had you in a pathetic, desperate moaning mess not long ago and gave you the best sex of your life in this very room, it feels different.

He feels different. 

Nostrils flared, fists clenched, and muscles taut. This was not the Jisungie you once made friendship bracelets with or taught to roller skate. No, this was just Jisung—grown up, exuding a raw, masculine energy that was both captivating and intimidating. Sexy even. Perhaps that’s why you got distracted when he came over early to set up for Chenle’s birthday.

You shouldn’t have gotten distracted, or indulged, no matter how hot he’d gotten over the summer. He was still, and always would be, your little brother’s best friend. 

Snap out of it, Y/N. 

“Jisung, what do you think you’re doing?” You snap at him and back to reality. 

His eyes narrow, drawn into a sharp expression that shouldn’t make your thighs weak, but it does. “What am I doing? What are you doing, Y/N?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about—”

“That guy, Y/N.” He spits your name, a low growl that tightens your chest, “You’ve lost your damn mind if you think I’m just going to stand by while you flirt with some guy.”

You scoff, unable to deny it. Yes, you had been flirting with that guy, but honestly, it was just a distraction to take your mind off the fact that you’d just let your brother’s childhood friend fuck you six ways to Sunday. 

“You’re being ridiculous," you retort, crossing your arms defiantly. “You have no right to act like this.”

His nostrils flare again, and he steps closer, invading your space. You instinctively take a step back—because this is how it happened last time, his stupid muscular body and obnoxious height inching towards you (minus the argument.)

"Ridiculous? You think it’s ridiculous that I care? That I don’t want to see you with someone like him?"

“Someone like him? You don’t know anything about him.”

Jisung tongues the inside of his cheek, inhaling sharply before muttering, “He had his hands all over you in the middle of a kitchen. Pretty sure that makes him an automatic asshole.”

You can feel your heart racing, but you refuse to back down. "You’re getting jealous over one guy after we—after a one-time thing, Jisung. It’s so childish!"

The moment that singular word leaves your mouth, you see a shift in his expression. His eyes darken, and there’s a flicker of something raw and primal lingering in his irises. Desire, maybe lust, but definitely determination.

Without a word, Jisung moves toward you in a blur of motion, his hand snapping out to grip your wrist, yanking you back before you even have time to react. You stumble, your back slamming against the door with a harsh thud. Thank God, there’s a party downstairs because you’re certain the impact was savage enough to be heard if not for the music.

Your breath hitches in your throat as he cages you in, his body pressing against yours, his chest rising and falling with the force of his breath. His hands bracket your face, fingers digging into the wood behind you, holding you there, trapped beneath his gaze, trapped beneath his body. 

"Childish, huh?" His voice drops an octave, and you can feel the heat, the anger, the hunger, radiating off him. "I’ll show you childish."

It’s a threat, a rise to your challenge, and said with an edge that makes your stomach flutter—against your will.

You meet his eyes, refusing to show any fear, though your heart races in your chest. “What, you think you can intimidate me?”

A corner of his mouth curls up in a half-smirk. "I know I can do a lot more than that."

Before you can respond, his face closes the distance between you, lips crashing against yours in a kiss that feels like a challenge—not the passion he offered earlier, just pure desperation and need. His hands grip the back of your neck, holding you in place as he deepens the kiss, his body pressing harder against yours like he can’t get close enough. 

You can’t tell if it’s anger or the desperate need to prove something that drives him, but the way his touch grows possessive leaves no room for argument. You don’t want to argue though, not when his other hand trails down your thigh, hiking up your dress, and one calloused finger slips beneath the black lace of your panties to find your swollen, aching clit.

You draw in a shallow breath, one that only fuels his cocky grin as he nuzzles into your neck, his warm breath skimming along the delicate curve of your nape before trailing to your ear. His finger continues to rub slow, so painfully slow, circles into your clit.

“Was I childish when I finger fucked you to orgasm with Chenle just next door? Was I childish when I pounded this pretty pussy into your pillows? Or was I childish when—”

“J-Jisungie,” you gasp, voice trembling with need, cutting him off. But who could blame you? The slow, deliberate motion of his fingers, paired with the weight of his words, had you aching for more—more of him, more of this, anything with friction. 

His blunt nails dig into the tender flesh of your thigh, possessive and unyielding, as his lips skim the sensitive spot where your neck meets your collarbone. A low growl rumbles in his chest, vibrating against your skin. 

“Don’t call me that,” he mutters, rough and low, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’m not a fucking kid.”

You let out a soft whimper of submission, your legs trembling as he edges them apart, giving himself better access to the spot you need him most—the spot he knows you need him most.

“Is that what this is about?” you manage to ask, though your voice is shaky, breathless.

He doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he nuzzles deeper into the curve of your neck, his warm breath ghosting over your skin. He doesn’t need to respond because his fingers do it for him, their pace quickening against your sensitive nerves.

You can’t believe this is happening—again. Chenle would kill you both if he found out, but the thought isn’t enough to stop you. Your hips buck instinctively, meeting the rhythm of his long, slender fingers as they work relentlessly to coax an orgasm out of you.

“Ji–We can’t do this,” you whisper, though the words come out weak, entirely unconvincing.

His lips pause against your neck, but his fingers don’t. If anything, they press harder, toying against your clit, drawing a choked moan from your lips as he hovers just close enough for you to feel his breath.

“Oh, so we can’t do this,” there’s venom in his voice, as his finger sinks lower until it’s circling your entrance, “but you were ready to let that asshole do this to you in the kitchen.”

Your breath catches in your throat, a mix of shame and defiance flaring within you. “It’s not the same.”

“Exactly,” he growls, his fingers curling inside you in a way that makes your knees buckle. “It’s not the same, because he’ll never touch you the way I do. He’ll never make you feel the way I do, never get the fucking chance.”

“Jisung—” you start, but he cuts you off, his free hand gripping your jaw, forcing your gaze to meet his. His eyes are dark, intense, and filled with something lust. 

“Tell me to stop,” he challenges, lips brushing dangerously close to yours. He doesn’t kiss you, but nips at the bottom of your plush lip. “Tell me you don’t want this, Y/N, and I’ll stop.”

You try to form the words, to muster any resistance, but they melt into a moan as his fingers press against that spot deep inside you, leaving your legs trembling. It’s almost sick, really—how well he knows your body, as if he’s memorized every reaction, every weak spot. Like he’s studied the blueprint of you, mastered it, and has no intention of ever letting anyone else have access to it.

“That’s what I thought,” he mutters, his smirk sharp and sinister. His lips finally crash against yours, stealing what little resolve you had left.

His kiss is hungry, consuming, as if he’s trying to prove a point with every press of his mouth, clash of teeth, and every curl of his fingers. And the worst part is, he’s right—you do want this. You want him.

“Say it,” he demands against your lips. “Say you want me.”

Your hands clutch desperately at his shoulders, body arching into him as his touch overwhelms you. The fight leaves you entirely, your resistance crumbling to dust. “I want you,” you confess, the words spilling from your lips before you can even think to stop them.

He grins against your mouth. “Good, because you’re mine.”

And he’s going to make damn sure you know it. He’s going to make sure everyone knows it—especially that fucking asshole who touched you. You’re his. 

Jisung finds the length of your neck again, his skilled fingers continuing their work on your pussy. He knows you’re close, knows exactly how to draw this out of you until you’re cumming, all while he’s branding your skin with purple bruises across your neck. Call it an ego thing, but knowing some part of him will be etched onto your skin has his cock throbbing, his bulge swelling in his jeans just from the thought of you belonging to him—even if it’s only temporary. Jisung doesn’t care. He’ll keep doing this until it’s permanent, until your mind finally catches up, and you realize you belong to him, just as much as he belongs to you.

“For someone who was so insistent that we can’t do this, you have no problem making a mess on my fingers, noona,” he coos, his whispers brushing against your skin. “I can hear how wet you are, all for me, yeah?”

He’s a cocky fucker, and he knows it.

“Ji—please,” you whine, your body moving in sync with his, desperate to push yourself over the edge. Jisung laughs, the vibration of it shooting through you straight to your core. His fingertips dig into your pelvis, halting your movements because he’s the one in control. He’s the one with something to prove.

“You wanna cum, noona?” he asks, almost mockingly. “Want me to make you cum?”

You nod eagerly, desperation etched across your features. Yes, you want it—no orgasm could ever compare to the one you know he can give you.

Jisung pulls away from your neck, his pupils blown wide as he admires the art painted across your skin—his mark. He’s never been one for art, never understood what people meant by seeing a message in a painting, but as his fingers trace the deep red imprints of his mouth, he understands exactly what this piece of skin says: mine.

His fingers plunge deeper inside your cunt, the steady rhythm driving you wild. He curls them just right, his touch grazing that rough patch inside you that makes you gasp, your breath catching and lips parting. 

He smirks, his eyes never leaving yours as he mouths words of praise and instructions. At least, you think he’s mouthing them—your mind is fogged, overwhelmed by the wave of pleasure crashing over you, the only sound you can focus on is the buzzing of your orgasm, your cries and the way his name spills from your lips in a frantic, desperate whisper.

"Such a good fucking girl," he murmurs when your high starts to fade, voice low with approval. "My good fucking girl."

Maybe it’s the post-climax haze, your mind still swimming in fog, but your arms find their way around Jisung’s neck, pulling him down to crash your lips against his. He’s caught off guard, just as much as you are—you're not one to initiate, and he hadn’t expected more. He’d already made his point clear: he knows your body, he knows how to make you feel good, how to make you cum.

But here you are, nipping at his lip, devouring his mouth with a hunger that catches you both by suprise. And when you whisper a soft, "Fuck me again, please, Jisung," he's done for.

"My girl is so impatient and greedy, huh?" He tsks, but it's more to regain his composure than anything. He’d almost cum in his pants at the sight of you begging him to fuck you, like some horny teenager. But his determination to prove he’s not the boy you grew up with keeps him grounded.

He hoists you up effortlessly, his hands gripping the underside of your ass as your legs instinctively wrap around his body. With ease, he carries you to the bed, dropping you onto it with a predatory gleam in his eyes. As he climbs over you, his gaze darkens with hunger, every movement clear, saying one thing: he's going to devour you.

"Such a dirty girl, letting your brother’s friend fuck you twice in one night," he teases, his hands slowly working to peel the dress from your body. When he sees you’ve been wearing no bra underneath, your nipples fully exposed and standing at attention instantly, a low curse slips from his lips. 

He could admire your body for hours—he hadn’t had the chance to earlier because the stakes felt higher then. But for you, the moment is urgent. You need him—all of him—inside you, now. Maybe that’s why you decide to taunt him.

“I can always get someone else to do it if you don’t want to.”

“Watch it,” he warns, as his grip tightens on you. His eyes darken with possessiveness, a wave of jealousy flickering in his eyes. The thought of someone else touching you like this, even as a joke, triggers something primal inside him.

Without another word, Jisung sheds his own clothes, hands moving to your thighs, spreading them apart with a firm, controlled movement. His breath hitches as he stares down at you, so fucking beautiful, so fucking perfect, so fucking his.

“Made to take my cock,” he mutters, giving you a moment to adjust. You nod softly, the sensation of him filling every part of you dulling every lingering ache. 

He circles the head of his cock at your entrance, teasing you as payback for that little comment, before slowly sinking into you, inch by inch. Your eyes roll back at the delicious stretch, your body yielding to him as he fits into you so perfectly. So big, so deep, so yours.

It isn’t until he’s buried deep inside you, balls against your skin, that a groan escapes both of you.

He doesn't hold back, his groans raw and needy. He wants you to hear him—hear how good you make him feel, how desperate he's been for you, for this, how much he’s craved you for years. Every sound, every groan, he wants it etched in your memory. He wants you to remember him when you think about any other man—your first boyfriend, or the guy who took you to prom, and especially the flings you had on spring break.

He wants to be the only man who makes you come apart. The only one you grip with those pretty nails, scraping his back as if marking him, your own little claim to match his purple marks. 

Jisung has always had a soft spot for you, but the way he fucks is anything but soft. This is desperate, driven, a reminder that only he can make you feel this way—only he will. His thrusts are hard, dominating, consuming, each one a claim, marking you as his in the most primal way and you love it.

He knows you love it—the way your pussy clenches around him, fluttering rhythmically, milking his own orgasm from him with every squeeze. Sloppy, deep, and abrupt, his resolve twists tighter inside his stomach. His grip on your hips tightens and he drives into you with relentless, unyielding force, chasing his high. 

He leans down, his breath hot against your ear. “My pretty girl,” he growls. “Only mine.”

You can barely respond, the pleasure building so intensely that all you can do is cling to him, your fingernails digging into his pale skin, feeling every part of him take control. Each thrust pushes you closer to an edge you’ve never felt before, your stomach coiling tightly, a delicious tension threatening to snap.

“Say it,” he demands, his voice low and filled with heat, his pace never slowing. “Say you’re mine.”

Your breath hitches, body trembling as the tension in your core reaches its peak. “Yours,” you whisper, but it’s enough to make him groan in satisfaction.

Suddenly, the world around you blurs as the pleasure overwhelms you. Your body responds, the waves crashing over you as your eyes roll. A choked cry escapes, and a rush of wetness unlike anything you’ve felt before floods your body. 

Your hands fly to your face in embarrassment, but Jisung doesn’t let you hide. He watches you, eyes dark,  filled with awe and pride, as he takes in the fact that he’s the one who’s just made you squirt.

“How’s that for childish?” he murmurs with a smirk, the words dripping with possessiveness.

And with one final thrust, he drives into you, his body shuddering as he reaches his own release, spilling inside of you.

“Oh, and by the way,” he murmurs breathlessly, lips brushing against your ear, “there’s no way this is just a one-time thing, Y/N.”

[emilys-bangs]

baby, if your love is in trouble | e.p

Tags: emt!reader, flirty!emily, blood and injury, established relationship (we won’t question how they went from point A to point B), canon typical injuries, quite a few mentions of blood in this one oops, medical inaccuracies, use of petnames, reader is pissed but emily’s a smooth mf with big brown eyes

Summary: You get called to a scene and find your girlfriend—yet again—all bruised and bloody. She flirts, you don’t reciprocate. Requested here.

Word count: 2.2k

Part one (you don’t have to read it to read this part)

When you arrive at an abandoned warehouse, the last person you expect to see is your girlfriend. The surprise is muffled; you were aware this wasn’t outside the realm of possibility once Emily told you two weeks ago that the unsub they’re hunting is local.

Even in a messy, crowded scene like this, crawling with FBI agents and police officers alike, it’s easy to spot her amidst the chaos. She doesn’t notice you, leaning against a cop car and shying away from a lanky guy who reaches out with his finger, attempting to prod at her bleeding nose. A crumpled tissue is held between her fingers; it’s soaked through with blood, barely an inch of it unblemished white. Emily doesn’t seem to mind it as she glares and avoids the guy’s touch, swatting at his hand with hers.

“It’s not broken, Reid.”

“I’m just saying, it looks a little swollen—”

“Emily.” You say unthinkingly. She turns, her ponytail swishing as her eyes meet yours. 

The first thing you notice is the bruises on her face, a violent galaxy etched around her right eye. The cut on her cheekbone, dried blood crusted around the skin you just recently discovered you loved to kiss. Not the way her brows lift in surprise, her mouth parting to breathe out your name.

“Hi,” she says. Her voice is muffled into the hand holding the tissue.

You can’t reply for the nausea in your throat. Emily’s coworker is frowning at you, no doubt mentally tearing this interaction to pieces. It kickstarts your brain into action, practicality forcing its way over the queasy roiling in your stomach. 

“Are you hurt?” You ask him.

He shakes his head.

Jaw set, you meet Emily’s eyes and try to pretend they’re anyone else’s. “Come with me, please.” You say tightly, one hand listlessly extended to her body.

This time, it’s easier to wrestle her into the back of the rig. Emily wordlessly shoves off of the cop car and lets your fingers grip her elbow, lets you drag her to the ambulance and force her to sit on the hard metal ledge. The heat of her eyes follows you as you get your kit, burning holes into your face when you set it down next to her and pinch the sodden tissue she’s holding. Her hand falls away, exposing the bottom half of her face; a blooming cut on her lip stains her chin red.

Your mouth flattens into a thin line.

“Hi,” Emily says again, softly. “I, uh, didn’t know you’d be here.” She tilts her head to meet your gaze.

You don’t let her.

She exhales a low sigh. You ignore it as you toss away the bloodied tissue and scan her face, surveying the damage but not settling on the near magnetic pull of her eyes. What you find is harrowing: bruises on her temple and brow, a black eye, a cut on her cheek. They’re quickly darkening into deep reds and purples, visciously marring her ivory skin. Oh, and not to forget her bloody nose and split lip. Her face is a kaleidoscope of color.

Jesus.

“What happened?” You ask, reaching for the straps of her kevlar. Velcro separates, screeching as you rip the wretched vest off of her body. Shoulders, hips; you free her, then toss it carelessly into the ambulance.

“Can I get a hi first?” Emily retorts tiredly. You finally meet her eyes, the weight of them a physical blow to your gut. The black eye doesn’t help. “Hi?” Her fingertips skim yours.

You swallow thickly. Grab her hand, squeeze. “Hi.” You say back.

A smile flickers over Emily’s face. “Hi, sweetheart. I’m okay, I just got a little banged up.”

A little.

Your lips purse. “What happened?”

Emily laces her fingers through yours. You need to pull away, but you can’t help the way your shoulders loosen under her touch. Her skin is warm, thumb skating over the back of your hand with her head ducked. 

“Doesn’t matter.” She murmurs.

“Emily.” You take your hand back. The movement isn’t quite so gentle; Emily’s brows dip into a frown as she winces, a low curse escaping past her lips. “What?” You demand. Taking her hand again—carefully—your eyes travel until you find a dampness on her shirt sleeve, the blood almost invisible against the navy blue fabric. You cut it off to expose a long cut, the width of her arm, just above her elbow. It’s still bleeding sluggishly, most of it staunched into her shirt.

Nausea stirs again. 

Your jaw is tightly set as you let go of Emily’s arm and snap on a pair of gloves, eyes fixed on your hands and the forceful sting of the elastic. If you look up, if you find the face of the woman you’re half in love with rather than some nameless stranger’s face, you’ll fucking lose it. Already your breathing is shallow, not enough oxygen filling your lungs as you try your best not to breathe in the scent of Emily’s blood.

“Hey,” she says quietly. You let the silence answer as you clean around her cut. It looks deep, deeper than you can manage, but at least it’s clean. Emily’s ragged inhale sours your mouth when you place pressure on it, stopping the flow. Blood blooms on the gauze, and—maddeningly—she still persists. “I’ll be home tonight.” Her voice is only slightly choked. “All on my lonesome. Would you like to keep me company?”

There’s a few things you’d like to do to her right now. You voice none of them.

When you’re certain the bleeding has stopped you grab a roll of gauze, wrap it around her arm. “We could order pizza. Get that cheese crust you like.” The first layer dampens; the second doesn’t. Neither does the third, but you still wrap another layer for good measure.

A low sigh tickles your ear.

“I miss you,” Emily says, velvet soft. 

Work had gotten in the way more than usual these past few days, both yours and hers. You missed her too, more than you think is in any way logical, but you can’t rise to her flirtations when she’s half beaten and bloody. Just the sight of the bruises on her pale face turns your stomach.

You snip the gauze and tuck the end under the layers. Her shirt is in tatters now; you don’t linger on the fact that it was one of your favorites on her.

“It’ll probably need stitches,” you lift your gaze from the bandages around her arm and grab another antiseptic wipe. You don’t mean to catch her eyes. It’s accidental, a stupid move that freezes you in place, stops your hand from meeting the cut on her cheekbone.

Her pupils are blown wide with adrenaline, the black carving out her irises until all that’s left is thin brown rings. And still they’re captivating. Emily shakes her head, tongue darting over her lip. “Honey, talk to me.” She says desperately.

You exhale a short breath through your nose. “What do you want me to say?” You murmur, dropping your eyes from hers and focusing your attention on cleaning her wound. The skin scrunches beneath your touch as she winces; guilt stabs you in the chest. Your heartbeat quickens, the pace of it making your hands shake. Briefly, ever so briefly, your eyes fall closed.

You can’t do this. Fuck, you can’t, not when it’s her.

“I already asked you what happened and you didn’t answer.” You toss the wipe away. Looking down, you take a moment to breathe in before grabbing the antiseptic ointment. She’s fine now, you try to remind yourself. Mostly. At least she’s in one piece.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about that.” Emily says. Her fingers find your chin; she pinches it gently and tilts your face up, to her tentative smile. It tugs at the cut in her lip. “I’m fine now.”

You can’t tell if it’s profiling or if she can genuinely read your mind.

An exasperated breath parts your lips. “You have a skewed definition of fine.” You huff, dabbing ointment on her cut. Emily’s lashes flutter closed, a frown digging its way between her brows. You bite down on your lips, immediately hating yourself. “Hurts?” You ask quietly.

“Mmm,” she doesn’t verbally confirm nor deny. It’s answer enough. By the time you peel a bandage and are placing it over her cheek she’s opened her eyes. “Maybe you can kiss it better?”

“You’re bleeding.” You say flatly.

“Babe,” she murmurs, frowning as if you’re being unreasonable, “don’t be like that.”

Her too calm tone sparks fire in your blood.

“Like what?” You bite out. “Like someone whose girlfriend is beaten and bloody because of god knows what trouble she was in? How exactly do you want me to act, Emily?”

“Girlfriend?”

You falter. “W-What?”

Emily grins stupidly. “You called me your girlfriend.” Her eyes glitter.

Heat rushes to your cheeks. It knocks over the guilt, the nausea, swarms of butterflies crowding your lungs. God, what are you, fifteen? 

You huff out a flustered breath. “Well, aren’t you?”

You’d had this conversation weeks ago. Not over an intimate, candlelit dinner; rather Emily had found romance in the early morning light of her bedroom. Body warm over yours, she’d grabbed your sleep-pliant hand, murmured into your knuckles if you would be her partner, let her be your girlfriend.

It had taken a few slow blinks of your eyes, chasing the blurriness from your vision and sharpening her tentative silhouette, before you’d said yes.

“I am. It’s just the first time you’ve called me that.” Emily’s arm goes around your waist. Her smile is transcendent and bloody.

“Don’t try to distract me,” you rub at your temple. “I’m still mad.”

“I’m fine,” she says quietly. Her fingers squeeze your side. “Cross my heart.”

The childish promise makes you huff out a humorless laugh. It thins out quickly, dissolves into the air between the two of you.

“You can’t look me in the eye and honestly tell me you’re fine, Emily.” You sigh. This close, you can’t help yourself. You gently cup her jaw, your thumb just shy of the broken skin at her bottom lip. It’s wet with fresh blood, the cut deepening with her careless smiles.

Emily gives you another one. You internally wince, wishing she’d stop. “Okay, well, I’m banged up.” She murmurs, leaning into your hand and blinking long lashes at you. “At least I have you to stitch me back together.”

Stupidly, thoughtlessly, your heart jumps. With no regard for the violence on Emily’s face or the complete lack of privacy of the scene around you. It’s basically your first meeting, reincarnated.

“And if I wasn’t here?” You mumble half heartedly, beginning to crack under her persistent flirtations. “Do you flirt with all your EMT’s or just me?”

Emily gives you a soft smile, a dizzying flash of dimples. “Just you, sweetheart. Only ever you.” 

The saccharine drip of her voice only makes you feel more like shit. Here she is, actually, physically hurting, and taking the brunt of your sour attitude because you couldn’t stand seeing it for yourself. You don’t know how she wipes the pain almost clear from her voice, how she can brave injuries that make you squirm at the thought of bearing them yourself, but somewhere beneath all the worry, there’s awe. 

“That’s reassuring,” you say lamely. You give her fingers a squeeze, attempting to convey what your dry tone can’t as you lean away. “Just please don’t get so banged up next time.” Reaching for another patch of gauze, you gently press it to her bottom lip. Her knee bumps into yours. “You do already have my attention, y’know.” 

A whole lot of it. Who are you kidding, probably all of it is hers.

Emily tucks the gauze into the corner of her mouth. “Like to have it at all times.” She mumbles.

You shake your head, breathing out a slow breath through your nose as the corner of her lip turns up. The ring of bruises around her eye has darkened into purple, capillaries bursting in blooms to chase away the unblemished expanse of her skin. It’s a terrible contrast, unmistakably stark and dripping violence. Still, you try your best not to shy away from her gaze.

“Will you come home with me?” Emily asks again.

You’re nodding before you know it. “Yeah, baby. Is that okay?” It’s a miracle she still wants you around after your wretched demeanor.

“That’s a stupid question, Y/N.” She says, so bluntly a laugh is forced from your lungs. It bubbles past your lips, making Emily’s smile stretch into a beam.

“Don’t fucking do that,” you scold, grimacing when fresh blood soaks the bandage. “God, you’re an idiot.”

“Your idiot girlfriend.”

It’s no use trying to staunch the blood. Her grin is so wide you discard the gauze and reach for her jaw instead of another one. 

When you finally kiss her, the metallic taste of her blood flooding your mouth, you know you’re in too deep.

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism @catssluvr @i-lovefandom @haiklya @justhereforthosefics @storiesofsvu@ashluvscaterina @basicallyvivi@temilyrights @professorsapphic

[threadbearsweater]

one warm day is all i really need | arthur morgan

When you find yourself taken in by a gang of outlaws, the last thing you expect is to grow sweet on one of them- and have the feelings reciprocated. Arthur Morgan doesn't have time for romantic nonsense, but a few memebers of the gang want to make sure that he gets to indulge in his obvious affection toward you. Tags: 3.9k words, an unlikely romance, meddling gang members (with the purest of intentions, one might suppose); female reader, alcohol use, smoking, emotional smut. A repost from a (regretfully) deactivated blog.

Arthur first notices your eyes on him one evening around the campfire at Shady Belle. He won’t accuse you of staring– Lord knows he’s been known to look at you with the same foolish grin you’re wearing now– but he tips his hat to acknowledge you. The heat in your cheeks is suddenly warmer than what the fire has already provided; your grin only grows until your teeth are showing, and you duck your head into your shoulder to hide. Arthur takes a long swig from his whiskey bottle and grimaces as it goes down. He hasn't had a drop of anything in days, and the burn takes a little while to grow numb to now.

“Think she's sweet on you, Morgan,” Sean says in his Irish lilt, giving Arthur an elbow in the ribs.

“Naw, she's lookin’ at you,” Arthur deflects, though he hopes he's wrong. He thinks he knows.

“She told me last week to keep my eyes on my own work,” Sean continues. “I really don't think it's me she wants, Arthur.”

You turn to whisper something to Sadie, who laughs out loud with her face tilted toward the stars. You dare a glance back at Arthur, who is, in fact, looking at you.

Maybe there's some truth to what Mary Beth told you yesterday.

“Arthur's been awful quiet lately.”

The sun shines through the trees and dapples the table where you're seated with bright spots of pale yellow. It's your third round of dominoes with Mary-Beth, and she's whooping your ass, as usual. You don't know how she does it, but each game you play, you're a little more privy to her prowess.

“You think so? I don't know him as well as you.” You hope it isn't obvious that your heart started beating a little faster at the mention of his name. It leaves you breathless.

“Oh yeah,” Mary-Beth continues. “He's been scratchin’ away in that journal of his a lot more, too.” She leans closer, conspiratorial, her eyes twinkling with the gossip she's about to share. “Karen said he went to town twice last week to have a hot bath. If you knew Arthur like I know Arthur, why…you'd know that's highly out of character for him.”

“But you said he'd been quiet. Is that unusual for him, too?”

She hums and purses her lips. “Well you see, Arthur isn't usually a man of many words on a good day. But it's been real bad lately. He don't even give John a hard time like usual.”

You ponder the dominoes for a moment and then make your move. It doesn't earn you any points, but at least you didn't have to draw. “What do you think the problem is?” you ask, nonchalant as possible.

Mary-Beth smiles. Big and bright and sparkling. “Oh, it's not a problem at all.” She lowers her voice and cups her hand to her mouth. “Arthur's in love.”

You gasp, then giggle behind your hand, and Mary-Beth follows suit. Hosea looks on and shakes his head, so you quiet down, reaching across to grab Mary-Beth's hands. “Who do you think it is?”

Her cheeks are tinted pink, and she looks around to make sure there aren't any ears to hear. Word travels fast around camp if one isn't prudent. “I think it's you.”

A thunderstorm rips through Shady Belle a little over a week later. Your little tent that you share with Sadie is ripped straight off its supports in a terrible gust of wind, and you and the others hightail it inside the house to take cover just as it begins to hail. There's quite a ruckus as everyone huddles inside, windblown and rain-soaked. A few of the men hold up lanterns to illuminate the darkness while you watch the lightning and feel the thunder shake the old bones of the house.

“Everyone just calm down,” Dutch calls, descending the stairs, wearing some ridiculous robe with his arms spread wide. “Are we really gonna let a little old thunderstorm keep us from getting a good night's sleep?”

“Says the man with a bed inside the house,” Arthur bites, rounding the corner from what used to be the kitchen, holding a lantern up high in front of him. “Dutch, you better allow these ladies to take cover in here for tonight, or I'll–”

“Or you'll what, Mister Morgan? Pray tell, what kind of man do you take me for?” Dutch's eyes are fiery as he stares Arthur down; a display of dominance. A veritable cockfight.

Arthur's jaw twitches, but he doesn't back down. “The kind of man I should hope would have some goddamn respect for his family.”

There's a tense moment or two where everyone is quiet, then Dutch relents. “Fine, fine! But I expect everyone out there pitching in to clean up in the morning.” He points at Arthur and raises his voice again. “That includes the other man with a bed inside the house,” he sneers.

Arthur shakes his head, then looks away only to catch sight of you, shivering in your wet undergarments, huddled close to Mary-Beth for what little warmth the two of you can share. For a minute, he forgets to breathe, then composes himself enough to cross the room.

“Come on in here. Get yourself warm and dry by the fire.” His hand on your elbow is rough but warm as he leads you toward the fireplace. You nod and look back at Mary-Beth, who shoos you away with a flick of her wrist and a wink; you notice that her teeth are chattering. Despite the humidity that hangs heavy in the air, the temperature has turned chilly with the storm.

Arms crossed over your bosom to preserve any shred of modesty you might have left, you allow yourself to be led away by Arthur. Dutch and some of the others head upstairs while Charles and Javier keep watch from the front porch.

“You alright?” Arthur asks. He covers your shoulders with one of his heavy winter coats, and you pull it around you, grateful for the weight and warmth of it. Another clap of thunder shakes the house and you jump. Arthur chuckles.

“You laughin’ at me?” you quip, placing your palms flat in the direction of the fireplace. You don't even bother to hide the grin you feel curling on your lips.

“No madam, I am not,” Arthur says earnestly, taking a seat beside you on the old wooden crate he's set up as a makeshift bench.

“Then just what do you find so funny, Mister Morgan?”

He scratches the back of his neck, looking into the flames. “Aw, I dunno. I'm sorry. It's just that you're…”

You bump him with your hip, unable to stop the giggles that bubble up from your chest. “I'm what?” you pry.

There's a clatter of something falling on the front porch, and Arthur uses it as a good excuse to get out of this hole he's dug for himself. “I better go see what's going on out there. Charles might need my help.”

“I'm what, Arthur?!” you call, to no avail. He's gone before he can see the proverbial hearts in your eyes.

The saloon in Rhodes is a little nicer than the ones you visited in Valentine, though it's a far cry from the ones you used to frequent in Saint Denis. Still, when Sadie and the other girls decide that it's high time you have a little fun in town, you throw on your best dress and let Karen curl your hair and even apply a little of the makeup you snagged from a homestead up north. For the first time in months, you feel like a proper woman. There isn't time to be melancholy about the past, though, when the boys start whistling and cat-calling upon the sight of you and the other girls.

“Aw, knock it off!” Sadie hollers. She's decided to dress up a little tonight, too, much to everyone's surprise. But she hikes up her skirts to hop into the wagon, calling for the rest of you all to hurry it up. “I've got a bottle of rum with my name on it that's waiting for me to come drink her all down!”

You catch the sunset on the way to town. It's dazzling over the meadows, all golden light and warm, blazing oranges and reds that settle into a brilliant pink by the time your reach the main road into Rhodes. You wish you could see Arthur's eyes, but he's got a handle on the reins next to Charles in the front of the wagon. You've seen him watching the sunset before; he always looks so peaceful those evenings at camp, and you often wonder what he thinks about in those few minutes before the horizon is painted in pastel hues.

Karen starts singing a song that everyone eventually joins, and before you know it, you're pulling up in front of the Rhodes Parlour House. You can already hear the piano and a few voices from outside; the sound of it stirs something in your soul that makes you long for the familiarity of home, but you quickly shove it aside in favor of the company of your new family.

“Madam.” Arthur's voice brings you out of your thoughts and back into the present, where he waits at the back of the wagon with his hand extended to you. You beam at him, and he feels dizzy. And when your soft hand fits into his, he straightens his knees so they don't buckle and betray him.

“Why, thank you, kind sir,” you say, lifting the hem of your skirts to step out onto the dirt road.

Arthur leans in, dangerously close to your ear. You can smell the whisky and cigarettes on his breath, along with the faint tang of gunpowder and hair pomade. “You sure do look nice in that dress.”

You demure and fan yourself with your hand. “Just how much have you had to drink already tonight?” you giggle.

“Ahh, just a little nip to take the edge off.”

“Mm-hm. Sure, Arthur. Whatever you say.”

The night starts off relatively calm, as most nights do. You and the other girls find an empty table to sit and pick up on the town gossip, and the men start a hand of poker. It grows loud and crowded sometime around midnight, and it's hard to have a conversation without shouting over the din of voices, the clink of glass bottles, and the slow drag ragtime music from the piano. The ambiance is charming and lighthearted, and there are even a few couples drunkenly dancing on the porch.

You push back in your chair and find that when you stand, you're a little more wobbly than you thought you would be. The alcohol has loosened you more than you realize, and you grip the table for support until you feel a firm arm around your waist. “Whoa there.”

It's Arthur, who has won the last round of poker and has come to check in on you and the other ladies. You're pulled tight against his chest for one fleeting moment, and you look up into his eyes. He, too, seems drunk, with his eyes gleaming and drooping at the corners, his smile easy and his cheeks flushed.

“My knight in shining armor,” you slur, pretending to faint in his embrace. He only pulls you tighter against him, both of his broad hands splayed across your back. You laugh, and he smiles.

“You weren't getting another drink, were ya?” he questions with a raise of his brow.

“‘m thirsty,” you whine, lifting your empty glass entirely too close to his face. It knocks against his nose, which sends you into another fit of laughter.

Arthur takes your wrist– gentle but firm– and lowers the glass away. “Think you need to drink something that's not whiskey,” he drawls. You can't help but watch the way his lips form around the words; the slip of his tongue between his teeth, the way his mouth turns up into the hint of a smile when you pout. Before you can think too long and hard about it, you lunge forward and kiss him. Hard and clumsy and impulsive. You don't give him time to react. You're far too involved in the kiss to notice, but the girls at the table behind you have all gone silent. Arthur slides his hand along the side of your face and presses his fingers upon the nape of your neck, kissing you back like he really means it. (He really does.)

You pull back suddenly, breathless and reeling, swiping the back of your hand over your mouth. You're still held firm in his embrace, but the playfulness in his gaze has been replaced with an intensity that makes your knees weak all over again.

“What'd ya do that for?” he asks.

“Could ask you the same thing.”

“Well, you started it.”

“And you finished it.”

“Oh, I ain't finished with you, yet.”

“That a promise or a threat?” Your pulse is thumping wildly in your ears.

“Ya know, they got rooms upstairs for that!” Sadie shouts. There's a ripple of laughter across the table. Arthur's hand on your cheek feels like a brand, his arm about your waist an anchor. The rest of the room comes back to you in a woozy blur, and you look around, a little lovestruck and a whole lot drunk. Arthur's lips at your temple make your eyes flutter shut, and the room fades to black as tIt'weight of you slumps against him. He staggers only slightly, but holds you firm, chuckling softly.

“It's a promise,” he whispers.

You come to some hours later. Your mouth is dry as the desert, your head feels like lead, your skin broken out in a cold, uncomfortable sweat. At some point, it seems you were covered with a downy soft blanket, and the pillow at your head is much more fluffy than the makeshift one you made out of a bedroll at camp. At first, you think you're dreaming. Then, you wonder very briefly if you're back at your childhood home in Saint Denis. You almost call out to your mother when you hear a soft snore from the other side of your bed.

The room spins when you turn your head, and you rub your eyes until Arthur comes into focus. He's sprawled in an armchair a few feet away. His arms are crossed over his chest while his chin is tucked into his chest. Off to the side, you spy his boots; his big toe pokes through a hole in his sock and you smile at how vulnerable he looks.

“Arthur,” you whisper, shifting slightly as you pull the blanket up around your chin.

He grunts and lifts his head slowly. He frowns a little at first, but when he focuses on you lying there, so close he could reach out and kiss you again like he did last night, there's a slow, easy smile that spreads across his face.

“Hey there, party girl. You feeling alright?”

You could kick yourself for all the giggling you've done around him lately, but you can't help it. He brings out something giddy and downright foolish inside you, so you toss a pillow at him and bury your face in the sheets.

“Aw, come on now. I'm just messin’ with ya.” He leans forward and rubs your head affectionately. “I'd say you were feeling pretty good last night.”

It's in that moment a white-hot jolt of sheer panic shoots down your spine. Quickly, you check to make sure you're still wearing clothes. Aside from your breasts being a little lopsided in the confines of your bodice, you're relieved to find that your dress is still intact and– more importantly– on your body. You dare another peek at Arthur and notice that his shirt is unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest and he's discarded his vest somewhere, but he, too, is fully clothed. Thank the good Lord above.

You must've said that last part aloud, because Arthur laughs. “Don't worry, nothing happened. Though it weren't for lack of tryin’ on your part,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “Thought I was gonna have to lock you in here like some feral cat till you settled down.”

Oh. Oh Lord. You try to recall what happened that led you to this room, but all that comes to mind is a lot of loud conversation, some dancing, a spilled drink across Sadie's lap, and Arthur's hand on the side of your cheek. “Oh…”

Now you remember it in vivid detail.

“Didn't know you cared for me like that,” he says. It's earnest and tender, a few shades less intense than the kiss you now recall, the one where it felt like he wanted to eat you alive right there in the middle of the saloon. Now, he thumbs your cheek and looks at you so fondly you swear your heart jumps right up in your throat. “I mean, I'd been hoping. Wasn't sure you was looking for a romance.” He huffs a short sigh, frustrated with himself. “Aw, hell, what am I saying? ‘Course you weren't. You're just looking to survive, just like the rest of us, and here I–”

“Shut up,” you say, taking hold of his hand and tugging him closer. He resists until you pull even harder, watching the fire in your eyes blaze to life. “You talk too much, Yankee.”

“I ain't no damn–”

“Kiss me.”

He's over you in an instant; you're pressed flat against the bed, completely and totally at his mercy. This kiss feels different than the drunken one last night. It's sober and honest, if not a little hesitant, as if he's holding himself back from devouring you wholly. The warmth of his body against yours takes your breath away. Or maybe it's the way his tongue laves heavy into your mouth, unashamed of how badly he craves the taste of you. You grip his hair at the roots and tug him down to kiss him harder, lifting your upper body to meet him until he presses down, his chest flush with yours.

Things get heated quickly.

His mouth moves across your cheek, down your neck, and he groans against your skin, rutting his cock against your thigh. You fleetingly wish that he had managed to get you out of that dress before he presumably tucked you into bed and passed out in that chair, because there’s a whole lot of fabric between you and him that really pisses you off right now. Arthur must feel much the same, because he’s bunching your skirts up past your knees while you’re fumbling with his belt buckle, desperate to feel him against you, inside you. It’s clumsy and crazed, rushed and rough, but you manage somehow to shuck off every last bit of your clothes and his until you’re breathless and so, so eager beneath him.

“Need you now,” you whine. You feel insane. Dizzy and dehydrated, impossibly turned on, every nerve ending on fire when his callused hands grip the fat of your thighs and open you to him.

“Greedy little thing, ain’t ya?” One of his hands slips between your legs to find you wet and swollen. He presses the pad of his thumb against your clit and pushes a finger inside you; the sound you make nearly has him finishing there on the sheets, so he wastes no time in getting himself as close to you as humanly possible.

“Never wanted something so bad,” he murmurs into the dip of your shoulder. He wants all of you– all at once– wants to fuse his hands against your skin and sink himself into you so deep that it would be impossible to tell where he ends and you begin. The heat from his body takes away what little breath you have left, his mouth on each part of your body building the buzz in your chest until you feel like you might just burst open. You grabbed at each other like it was the first and last time you might have this opportunity, as if you wanted more than what the other of you was able to give.

Considering the kind of life you’ve both led so far, it’s a good possibility that you might never get to do this again.

“Give it to me,” you plead, opening yourself further to him, fingers wrapped firm around the base of his cock. “Please.”

Arthur Morgan is a man of incredible strength and self restraint, except when it comes to a woman like you.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he takes you. It’s primal, sweaty, filthy, rough. Arthur pushes as far inside you as he can go, then pushes further when you beg for more. He cups your knees with slick palms and presses you open as far as you can bend; you tug roughly at his hair and bite down on his shoulder when the pleasure builds to a blinding ferocity. The wooden bedframe knocks angrily against the wall with each thrust, but you can’t bring yourself to care if anyone hears. You can’t focus on anything beyond the feeling of him filling you with every stroke of his cock, of the taut, corded muscle in his back and shoulders as you grapple to hang on as tight as you can. Your orgasm hits your hard and fast, and he encourages you through it, taking his time to give you long, controlled strokes. It’s as pleasurable for him as it is for you. “‘Atta girl,” he rasps, lips moving against your ear. Your hand flies to your mouth to muffle your cries, but he pulls it away and threads his fingers with yours, pressing it onto the pillow. “I wanna hear it.”

Your moans are what drive him over the edge.

He buries his face against the side of your neck, panting heavily as he comes, driving into you so hard that you can almost feel the mattress beneath you begin to sag under the weight. You cradle his head in your hands and link your legs around his waist, boneless and languid in the aftermath of your own pleasure. When he moves, you move with him, riding out the waves together until you’re both too tired to move another muscle.

Neither of you speak for a while. He lies on his back with an arm around your shoulders while you curl against him, tuned into his heartbeat and swirling little patterns into the hair on his chest. It’s comforting to feel him next to you, to watch his chest rise and fall as he steadies his breathing, to soak up the warmth of his skin against yours.

You’re the first to break the silence. “Did everyone else go back to camp last night?”

Arthur nods slowly. “Something tells me they planned all this.”

“Planned it? You mean…” You lift your arm slowly and flick your wrist to acknowledge the room you’re laying in. “This?” You lift your chin and grin at him. “Or getting us together?”

“Room was paid for before I even had a chance to ask if they had one,” he explains. “Think it was Mrs. Adler.”

You vaguely recall her shouting something about a room after you kissed Arthur last night, and you shake your head. “You complaining?”

He turns to his side, draping an arm across your hip. “Me? Never.” You’re suddenly pressed beneath him once again; from the looks of it, you won’t be getting out of this bed anytime soon. “Specially when I’ve got you here to help me keep warm.”

[acid-ixx]

Hiii, I have read all your work and it is very good :D!! I've read it several times and never get bored.

Can I ask about something? I'm curious about the characteristics or signs of yandere appearing in Tim. Will he be the last family member to become a yandere? Sorry I asked like this because I feel like he's not getting enough attention in drabbles, questions from other readers, or anything else. So I'm curious.

I hope you understand my question. Because English is not my first language.

— masterlist !

don't mind me using the tags here, i want to clarify a lot of things.

hi anon!! don't worry about your english, i understand perfectly and it's also not my first language too hehe. and to all the others who have asked about tim's (or any other characters') appearance in the series: fear not, nobody is getting ignored at all, i intend for everyone to have their designated events/moments that trigger yandere characteristics for the reader for each chapter. it's my plan to make them each as unique as possible with their intentions, motives and goals, not just them being simply "obsessed" with you, so i'm trying my best to add depth to the story.

that means the entire series will stretch out quite a lot (i already have outlined multiple arcs, flashbacks, and all the characters' individual traits and significance). it's not just going to be ten chapters, i want to remind others that there's more lore to just the neglect, your mother's dark past, and characters that haven't even been introduced to the plot yet, so if you guys prefer one-shots or something shorter, then the series is not for you folks, sorry 😭

as for tim, he is quite literally my favorite character (surprise!), so of course he's going to get special treatment. he's not going to be the last to become yandere, but his spiral to becoming a yandere takes quite a lot of time since compared to others, it's him who spends the least amount of moments with you. even in the non-neglected au i wrote, what triggered his obsession was mere curiousity.

though just because there're lesser events with him, doesn't mean there will be none. he certainly plays a major role in the "wild goose chase arc where the family tries to negotiate (kidnap) you whilst you try to escape to multiple cities/end up in a completely different country". he may not express his love for the reader well, but he most definitely knows the most about you.

oh! and the traits that he does have as a yandere looks tame when you compare it to others, but it's also because it manifests through his personal dialogue (as i reckon he's keeps most of his thoughts about you to himself most of the time (gatekeeper archetype) and he's the character with the most internal dialogue/thoughts too). he's the worst stalker you could have, the one who you should look out for the most with just how much he knows about you in such a short period of time. tim's intelligence and detective skills knows no bounds, and he won't stop exhausting himself until the very knowledge of what the blood pumping under your skin feels like and the exact temperature of your body— is extracted and stored into the terabytes of data he has into his personal batcave.

and spoiler alert: he's also the one who uncovers your mother's past and alongside bruce, what had happened between the period of time when you were dragged out of the closet and the other time in elementary when you were nearly kidnapped, which completely leads to another arc wherein it's where their obsession drives off to a completely different plane of existence, exalting vengeance on the people who tormented you; but tim's pettiness is just on a whole nother level.

and i have to stop here before i (excitedly) spoil the entire series' plot LMAO. my answer to this is a bit more casual to the other asks, so i hope it doesn't irritate anyone.

so thank you for asking this! i also have a question for you people too:

how is the current progression of the plot? i get that it isn't even 10% finished and some moments feel slow, but i try to be as immersive as possible to the readers. so for those who have read the entire thing, what do you want me to possibly add, or does anyone have other clarifications? can anyone tolerate a fanfic that can possibly lead to more than 250k words??? 😭

[suiana]

❝ I Reincarnated Into a Shitty Chirstmas Romance Movie and My Love Interest is a Yandere?! ❞

✎ featuring my creature, Ezra Valentine :3 this is just ezra being a weirdo, some lore for my game? idk blawg just read it and you'll find out

✎ special shoutout tags to these people @yandere-yearnings @forbidden-sunlight @moyazaika @bun3333s @yanderenightmare @cumtastiics @ozzgin

Your "childhood friend" is a bit of a weirdo, you think.

Staring at you for far too long, lingering touches that suggest that he's more than just a bit interested in you, and the weird random confessions about how he wants to get crushed under the heel of your right shoe...

It's just weird.

You've reincarnated into a shitty christmas romance movie. And your "childhood friend", aka the love interest, aka Ezra Valentine, has a crush on the main character, you. Obviously.

You don't even know why you watched this movie in the first place. Boredom, maybe? Yeah, probably was because you started dozing off after hour 1 of the movie. The movie was... 1 and a half hour long? It wasn't even rated that high. Like a... 6.9 at best.

And now you're stuck here all because you watched this shitty movie with an even shittier plot. Where the main character left the small town for a big city, came back home to celebrate christmas and meets childhood friend, decides to give up big city life because they both fall for one another.

Just like every other damn Mallhark movie. Predictable, boring, absolutely TRASH.

You don't even know why or how you got reincarnated into this damned movie in the first place! Did you fucking pass away in your sleep??? Actually just die from fucking boredom???

Well it's no use thinking about that now because you've been stuck in here for a while now. You think that you're maybe about halfway through the original plot, where Ezra and the old mc were supposed to have some bonding time together and shit. But that's not the case now, because you've changed the plot.

And you're realizing that this "childhood friend" of yours... Is acting a little bit differently.

You don't remember him being that much of a weirdo in the original movie. If you remember correctly,he was just like, a little bit of a shy loser boy who was infatuated with the MC and liked gaming. But now... Now he's, what, a masochist? Or did they just not add that fact into the movie? You couldn't have forgotten. If the love interest was openly a weirdo like he is to you, you wouldn't have dozed off in the first place. Just now, he literally asked to be crushed under your right shoe. Crushed. Under. Your. Shoe. How the hell is that boring? You'd be 101% AWAKE. You love freaks more than anything, damn!

Now that you think about it, he's more than just a bit of a weirdo.

He's been calling and acting like he's your boyfriend. Hell, he acts like a CLINGY boyfriend too. Asking where you're going, clinging to you, giving you those damned boba eyes everytime you talk to others, specifically dudes. Fun fact but you wish he'd stop abusing those eyes of his because fuck, how can you resist him when he's looking at you like that?

Worse of it all, you can't do anything. Not when your key out and helper, Ai, said to act cool and to not arouse any suspicion from him.

Ai's also another character in this movie by the way. His character trope: the hot side character that barely gets screentime and is also sentient. And right now, he's helping you find a way back to your world... Meanwhile you've been stuck in Ezra's apartment under the guise of a mandatory childhood bestie sleepover.

It's been days since you've actually last seen Ai in person because of how much Ezra, your "childhood friend", has been clinging to you. In just the past 3 days, he's made you watch the entire fnaf lore theory THRICE. And not once have you stepped outside his apartment. Not because you don't want to, but because he'd always find some bullshit excuse to keep you with him.

"O-oh but kitty you'd miss this very important scene... Where freddy goes hurhurhuhr"

"Kitty! Kitty you can't leave now! We have to watch it again! What? We watch it more times so it gets engrained into our brains! That's just common sense!"

"Keeping you h-hostage?! I'm not! All friend do this! It's just u-um, friend bonding time! We haven't been around each other in so long you know..."

It's weird. Just plain weird.

Thankfully you still have your phone so you could occassionally sneak a message or two to Ai, informing him of your current situation. As long as that black haired man baby doesn't see everything is fine...

y/n: currently watching a new video, thank gyatt for that

y/n: would actually jump if i have to watch more fnaf

y/n: erm... lowkey think this is worse though... its a video about danganronpa

Ai: don't worry, i'll be there to save you in a bit

Ai: i might have found a way to get you out of here

y/n: fr? ty for that silly goober :3 all while im chilling on the couch having some me time :333 ur so skibidi

"A-ahem! y/n who are you texting..?"

Shit. This damned guy! What does he think he's doing? Just popping up the second you finally have some alone time?! Wasn't he passed out from lunch just minutes ago???

"Erm... Just a friend?"

Ezra stares at you with wide round eyes, lps turning down into a frown before he sits uncomfortably close, pressing his long, lanky body against yours. Always the tall skinny guys that are the biggest weirdos man.

"Just a... friend?"

"Yeah, just a friend."

I mean, it wasn't wrong. Ai really was just a friend to you. Or at least that's what you think. To Ezra and his fucked up mind... Maybe you were abandoning him? And now he's jealous and might want to go batshit crazy on AI?

Haha! No way that would happen! Ezra, no matter how crazy he is, wouldn't go that far! He's just a loser who has an added interest in you now after all!

The look in his eyes say otherwise though.

"But I'm your friend, aren't I?"

Cold, dark, obsessive.

The way he stared at you sent literal chills down your spine. He had never looked at you in such a way before. Pathetic and needy, yes. But never this... Whatever the hell this was.

You back into the fabric of the seat, feeling a cold sweat line the skin of your forehead. All of a sudden, the room feels all too small and it's like you're trapped in his apartment with no way to escape.

It was suffocating.

"I'm the only friend you need. The only one you need, y/n."

You don't really recall a time where he's called you y/n so easily. It's always some stupid petname like kitty. And goddamn it, you wish he'd just say that instead. Hearing him call your name while he's staring into your very soul like this is making you feel like you're about to shit your pants.

"U-uh, okay dude chill out. You're my dearest friend, alright? Look let's jsut go back to watching that danganronpa analysis..."

And just like that, the terrifying aura IMMEDIATELY disappears and you're left with a sopping wet puppy of a man. You decide to make the first move, fiddling with the remote as you stand up and move close to the coffee table. Anythinng to gte away from this weird bipolar guy. How the hell did he develop this? A new character arc maybe?

In the midst of you trying to look anywhere but Ezra, you fail to realize that he had already taken your phone, leaving you with no way to contact Ai now.

"Now you'll never have another friend again..."

"What was that?"

"O-oh I said now you'll never be bored again! Haha!"

Right, totally what he said.

[thebroccolination]

Hi Key, your post is the second I've seen that hinted at Joss but without further explanation. He generally has a positive public perception and I only know him from 3WBF (which I liked), so I'm curious where this shift in perception is coming from recently.

Would you mind making a post or directing me to where I can learn more about his general...situation.

I apologize if this is intrusive since I know you don't like to engage in Fandom Drama and like to keep your space positive, but I don't have XTwitter and his Tumblr tag is usually quite dead.

Thank you in advance!

Why I Don't Fuck with Joss: An Extremely Academic Essay of Words and Screenshots

Hi Anon!

I normally would have DM'd you an answer to this, but since you sent the ask anonymously and you were very kind in how you asked, I didn't want to ignore you.

However, two things:

I do generally make it a policy to keep my negative personal thoughts about certain actors to private conversations or, y'know, Discord servers, just to keep it off public platforms where toxicity is already rampant. In this case, though, I think the situation is interesting enough to comment on. (Plus, y'know, I'm amazed he was even managing a comeback when he's been known to Be Like This for years.)

I didn't get a lot of primary sources for this post because quite frankly I don't like Joss and I don't want to look at his face any more than I already have. However, friends who've been following this more closely than I have were able to verify that there are sources out there for everything I'm going to mention. Just, y'know, don't use me or this post as a source. This isn't one of my Citations Included Posts, this is just a Why I Don't Fuck with This Guy Post.

So, for context, I made this post last month, and someone made a more explicitly worded reblog here that's honestly better if you're going in without any context.

Essentially, Joss has had a dodgy reputation for years, but I think because fan turnover is high in interfandom and he's never been in a BL series before, most interfans just know Joss as A Tall Man Who Likes Sportsball.

But when I got into Thai BL back in 2020, Joss was one of the first actors I heard of as ~Problematique~ so I looked into him, and what I learned made me go, "Ew," so I just keenly ignored him from then on. (General gross stuff like the Domundi boob-grabbing prank and some assorted Dudebro comments about women. I don't remember specifics anymore because he was barely on my radar, but a friend at the time who'd been in fandom longer basically told me, "Yeah, that's Joss, lol.")

Interestingly, before JossGawin became a thing, most interfans were rooting for JossLuke, but I think given how vocally left-leaning Luke has proven to be, I wouldn't be surprised if Luke saw the prospect of tying his public reputation to Joss and went, "lol no goddamn thank you."

Gawin, on the other hand, seems to be down for whatever GMMTV wants him to do, so he probably just sees Joss as a colleague he makes out with (acting is a weird job). He went to high school in western Pennsylvania, he has white relatives on his dad's side, and he hangs out with the Gym Dudes of GMMTV, so I'm sure he's completely desensitized and is one of those guys who thinks, "Nah," but doesn't go so far as to say, "Not cool, dude." The Gawin Caskey Method seems to be: throw a basketball, make out with a dude on camera, go home and eat an edible. Dismount.

Unfortunately, even though Gawin's never really made any political statements or taken any major stand for the queer community, he's gained goodwill that some people are now calling into question because of Joss.

Anyway, apparently Joss used to follow Andrew Tate on Twitter until Tate was suspended, so it seems a lot of people assumed Joss unfollowed Tate, but yeah, between the sexist comments, Boobgate, and admiring Joe Rogan, that was enough for me to physically recoil from the screen when I saw the teaser for MGB.

Okay NOW, everything from this point onward is new stuff I've learned over the past month that made me go, "Oh. So he's worse now."

Joss has apparently had that Joe Rogan quote pinned to his Twitter account since 2020, but people just shrugged it off because they like his man stomach or something? (I don't find him attractive, but even if I did, I truly don't understand how he made it this far. It feels like he's been pretty firmly canceled every year since I got here, honestly.)

I also didn't like him weight-shaming Gawin. There's some older clip of him calling Gawin fat, and I know in Asia it's more common to comment on other people's bodies and weight, but I also recently found out that he got Gawin a meat cake for his birthday because idk actual cake is for pussies? (Sorry, Anon, I was trying to aim for an objective tone but I abandoned it because I reeeally don't like this man.) And apparently a lot of JG fanservice is just Joss and Gawin at the gym so Joss can teach Gawin self-control or something? I've had their tag blocked from the beginning, so you'll have to look into that if you're curious.

Ah, and at some point in the last few months, Joss was apparently asked what his "type" is and he said something like "white, skinny English-speaking Europeans/Americans"(?) Which apparently made Asian women go, "Hey, c'mere real quick: good. Bye."

I also thought it was a huge red flag that Joss has been in the industry for years, and his domestic fanbase is still quite small. Others have pointed out that very few fan interactions with him are in Thai, and he's clearly courting a western audience both in his individual engagement and by partnering with a mixed American actor. When he did the LGBTQ+ panel last summer, apparently the reaction from Thai commenters was, "lmao why Joss?" not, "Oh yes, of course, Joss!"

So it seems like GMMTV has been trying to do a rebrand for Joss using Gawin and interfans more generally since Joss speaks English and interfans don't generally seek out the resources to do research. Remember last year when GMMTV announced that Y-MIND script competition? It was originally domestic only, but after Thai fans overwhelmingly went, "The contract terms here are wildly exploitative, so fuck off," GMMTV rereleased the promotional material in English and went, "HEY INTERFANS WANNA SEND US STUFF :D?"

That told me they really don't think especially highly of us.

On December 15th, someone pointed out that Joss didn't just follow Trump on Twitter, he also followed a ton of extreme alt-right accounts on Instagram. Not normal political figures, either. Obscure figures like Pearl, Candace Owens, that guy who was saying Your Body My Choice, and Andrew Tate's right-hand man, and more! Some of his fans tried to point out that he follows progressive Thai politicians, but as far as the American side, he only followed alt-right conservative accounts with zero liberal accounts.

Though, in fairness, someone did point out that Joss also follows famous progressive Democratic figures [checks notes] comedian Chris Rock and basketball player Stephen Curry.

So. Whoohoo for that, amirite?

Since Joss's fans weren't having much success defending him on their own, they threw some @'s at his account to get him to make some kind of statement that would somehow explain away why he was following a deep, deep alt-right fanatic like Pearl. (Spoiler: He didn't.)

The JossGawin International fan club even released the above statement to address the issue, then received such alarmingly vitriolic backlash from the JossGawin fandom for "betraying" Joss that the fanclub decided to deactivate entirely. (I have no idea if they reactivated or not, since I stopped keeping up with this whole debacle shortly afterward.)

One Thai(?) JossGawin fan actually seems to have used ChatGPT to create an English comment to chastise the fanclub for their lack of support in Joss's dire times:

Amusingly, rather than address his fans' concerns or unfollow any of the accounts causing the chaos, Joss instead just started deleting any comment on his Instagram that called on him to comment.

Five days later, he unfollowed 137 accounts. No idea how many of those were alt-right extremists and how many were just extra padding to make it look like a general cleanse, but it was at least fifty last I heard, and the fact that 1) it took him nearly a week to do anything but delete the comments calling him out, and 2) his first tweet after this whole mess was a quote-retweet of GMMTV's message welcoming Barcode into the company saying, "lol this kid looks like if me and Gawin had a baby" just goes to show how unthreatened he feels.

After all, Joss has been this way for years, and his upcoming series with Gawin is probably going to do numbers regardless. He's successfully rebuilt his stagnant career off the support of interfans, and he knows he'll be fine.

Even Foei has a show with Tay! We're all good here. \:D/

So yeah! That's why I don't fuck with Joss. \:D/

This'll be the last I say on Joss publicly.

I just figured I'd make one all-encompassing post so I can link back to this in case anyone asks why I'm not supporting any of Gawin's projects with Joss. It's a shame because I do really like Gawin, but this isn't even a hard choice for me to make.

Oh, and while we're on the subject: the director of MGB, Ark, is also Not a Good Dude by all accounts I've heard from multiple people who've interacted with him privately. I mean, he sure is queer, but he's also said to be a misogynist with some white-people-worshipping tendencies. He doesn't have the highest opinion of BL fandom in general, either, especially when you look back on his whole direction of IT'S NOT A BL Shadow. Just, y'know, another reminder that queer people aren't Virtuous or Evil by nature. We're a big ole clusterfuck of nuance, so you don't have to support MGB for Ark just because he's a queer man. I have zero proof that I can share publicly, so you don't have to take my word for it. Just, y'know, in case you were on the fence, I've heard he's a dick.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go write absolutely filthy gay porn to purify myself from writing Joss's name so many times.

[princepotionsss]

poly! tf141 hybrids x reader au 1/5

Warnings: reader is afab, language, allusions to sex

(Pls be nice I’m not the best at writing, also not proofread)

You who just tags along with your friend who wants to adopt a hybrid. You who walks by and an older mastiff hybrid with a bucket hat sitting alone in a cage catches your eye. The shelter worker stops and tells you about him. That he was a military hybrid but his last owner was KIA and he was put here.

You pause not wanting a hybrid but seeing him look so sad and without purpose you adopt him on the spot.

Bringing Captain John Price home was an awkward endeavor. His ears were perked on alert and his tail not moving as he looked around the big farmhouse. Getting used to each other was another thing on its own. The older hybrid was used to being in control with his owner and now you, a young thing is in control? AS IF!

This leads to fights where you try and stick up for yourself you really do “no the dishes don’t go there.” “You can’t even reach so why do you give a fuck?”

One fight gets so bad it ends up with both of you yelling and him storming closer causing you to flinch thinking he was going to attack you. The older hybrid stopped immediately and his poor fluffy ears pinned down sadly and his tail tucked inbetween his legs.

John tentatively reaches out for you softly taking your arm in his large hand

“I’m-“ he wasn’t one for apologies so instead he took you into his arms, first time you two ever actually touched, and held you in the middle of kitchen.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” His gruff thick accent bled into the silent atmosphere.

From that moment on you two were inseparable, no longer having your own rooms, space, etc. John Price was attached to your hip guarding his new found purpose, you.

Intimacy grew between you two something you never thought would happen. It wasn’t even a thought but John had other ideas the moment he made you his everything. It started with little touches on your lower back with “excuse me.” as he scooted by you in the grocery store. Those little touches became bolder when watching tv he would pull you into his lap saying some bullshit like he was anxious, bastard wasn’t anxious he just wanted to run his large calloused hands up and down your sides and plushy thighs, his hands sometimes dipping into the inside of your thighs, all ‘accidentally’ of course.

He would mutter “sorry” but keep his hand grazing up and down fingers scratching against your shorts. Your cheeks would flame and all you could mutter “it’s fine.” As heat pooled in between your thighs.

John knew he was affecting you, he could smell it. But he never went any further, just liked to tease and watch you squirm. A small smirk etched across his lips hidden behind his facial hair.

It only took a little while longer before you snapped. Both of you were laying in bed trying to go to sleep but his stupid large hands found there way to your upper thigh running his fingers up and down teasingly. His fingers went up across the front of your shorts grazing your cunt causing you to let out a small moan be for you could even stop it. His fingers stopped and your face flushed as your back was to him. You knew John had heard it, hybrid or not.

Next thing you know you are on your back and John was over you his eyes wide and his ears on alert, his tail thumping gently against the sheet.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” He said in a low voice hands gripping your wrists above tour head .

[linskywords]

2024 HRPF recs

As has become my wont, I spent the last few weeks trying to catch up on some of the new fics in the hockey RPF tag that I missed over the course of the year. I definitely didn't get to everything, or even all of the most popular ones; there may also be a bias towards shorter fics here, as I was trying to get through a lot. 😅 But I hope you enjoy, and possibly find a gem or two that you missed!

First, some general favorites:

Scoring Effects by @helenish (McDrai, 30K): Ah, Helenish. A goddess among us. I love a good mistaken identity story, and this is a GREAT mistaken identity story.

barons by dilangley (MattDrai, 43K): Future fic in which Houston gets its own expansion team, Matthew coaches it, and Leon and Trevor Zegras play on it. Gorgeously done. The Trevor POV section broke me a bit, but it was worth it.

Living Things by @makeit-takeit (TK/Patty, 115K so far): I am so deeply invested in this series. It's very real and vivid-feeling future fic that does an amazingly thoughtful job exploring the NHL wife-and-kids pipeline and what happens when that doesn't fit you as well as you thought it would. The stories that are written so far feel nicely complete, but if you'd rather hold out for the full HEA, you can check out her Wild Ice for a different highlight from the past year.

put the stars in our eyes by @notthequiettype (McDrai, 17K): the McWedding story that I wish I had written. I thought it was going to destroy me, and instead it left me all warm and fuzzy.

Lost and Found by angry_geno_is_score (MattDrai, 2K): angry_geno_is_score had so much to choose from this year, as always, and I loved this as a microcosm of the hurt/comfort they do so well. If you like it, you know where to find more from them!

Next, we move to the irresistible new Sharks babies. I'm not sure I can oversell how hot these three stories managed to be:

come on (leave me breathless) by countthestars @moondoggiestyle (Will/Mack, 10K): I've already talked about how much I loved this one. There can never be too many stories of one player catching the other getting off in the shower, especially if they're as hot as this.

revising the shoreline by ohyellowbird @teex (Will/Mack, 6K): another super well done exploring-their-sexuality-while-not-talking-about-it story, aka my kryptonite.

teamwork makes the dreamwork by canary @bigdogenergy (Will/Mack and Will/Mack/Ryan Leonard, 19K): I'm sure a lot of you have already read this in the last week or so, but I couldn't not recommend it. Mack goes into heat and Will needs an alpha to help him out. Who to call but the ex?

And then we enter the realm of vaguely devastating but gorgeously written JDTZ trade fics:

home by now by donderwolk @donderwolkenblog (Jamie/Trevor, 6K): The moment they found out about the trade, and a little bit after. Brilliant, impeccable, ruinous.

heat check by jolach @hyggles (Jamie/Trevor and also Carts/Richie, 4K): Outsider perspective on Jamie and especially Trevor as they deal with the aftermath of the trade, through the eyes of Mike Richards, who may have some experience in the area. I don't know how anyone writes this well, honestly.

Finally, one of my favorite things about reading through the past year's fics is finding a prolific new author I love who I had totally missed in my year of mostly reading people I'm already subscribed to. This year it was unsay (@tungpin). They seem to have started writing HRPF this year, and they tend toward the kind of complicated sometimes-ambiguous stories that I never manage to write but love to read. Here are a few of my favorites of theirs from this year:

malt (MattDrai, 4K): Leon meets Sasha Barkov and has feelings about how he wants to be more serious than Matthew does (OR DOES HE).

accessory to the rockstar (McDrai, 5K): once again we have Leon having thoughts about how he feels more than the person he's into, this time about Connor. Bittersweet and lovely.

the care and keeping (Jamie/Trevor, 12K): in which Trevor's friends get on Jamie's case about neglecting him post-trade, and Jamie does something about it.

That's it from me, at least for now! I know there were many excellent stories this year I didn't get to, especially the long ones that I just didn't commit to while reading for this list. Perhaps this is the year I do what I've been telling myself to do for the past two years and keep track of what I read and love throughout the year. We can only dream. 😅

Happy reading!!

[ordinary-barbie]

scary dog privileges.

summary: Nobody's messing with you as long as Rafe Cameron is around.

pairing: rafe x sweet!pogue!reader

word count: 1.7k

tags: fem!reader, swearing, a guy acts like a creep towards reader, fingering, cunnilingus, p in v sex (protected), mutual orgasms

note: dipping my toes into obx fanfic after hyperfixating/crushing on Drew Starkey and reading a ton of Rafe stories, haha. I have not seen the show but I'm shooting my shot here anyway!

~~~~

They say that opposites attract, which couldn't be more accurate regarding your relationship with Rafe Cameron.

Rafe was the Kook king of Kildare Island, someone who oozed cockiness and arrogance. Meanwhile, you were a soft-spoken Pogue. When people spotted the two of you together, they couldn't wrap their heads around it, and frankly, neither could you. Rafe had his pick of any girl on the island - especially the Kooks - but somehow he only had eyes for you, which warmed your heart.

It all started last year, with a party at Tannyhill to celebrate your class graduating from high school. You were content to stay under your covers, binging Love Island Australia on Hulu, but your friend Olivia had begged you to come with her. Eventually, you relented, your curiosity about one of Rafe Cameron's famous parties getting the better of you.

Within five minutes, you'd ran into Rafe—literally. You'd been swaying to the music and accidentally bumped into him, spilling your drink all over his shirt. You'd been mortified, apologizing profusely and insisting on helping him clean up.

Rafe was a goner ever since.

Now it was time for another Tannyhill bash to celebrate the start of summer, and you were squarely by Rafe's side. In the year you'd been together, you'd discovered how protective your boyfriend was. He held onto you like an anchor, always having an arm wrapped around your waist or shoulders, no matter if he was talking to Topper and Kelce or kicking some rando's ass at beer pong. You appreciated it; parties often made you feel like a nervous baby deer, and it was nice to have someone to hold on to.

Unfortunately, you couldn't always be joined at the hip. "I'm gonna piss but I'll be right back, baby," Rafe promised, giving your ass a light squeeze on the way to the bathroom. As soon as your boyfriend was out of sight, your smile dropped. While you'd made an effort to get to know Rafe's friends, you were still incredibly nervous in a house full of Kooks.

To kill some time, you scrolled through Instagram, giggling at Olivia's latest story. She'd posted herself having a "friendly pizza sesh" with a guy, but you knew she'd had a huge crush on him since high school.

Suddenly, a shadow passed over you. "What's got you laughing like that, pretty girl?" You jumped, startled by the unfamiliar male voice.

A smirking guy with short, curly dark brown hair and glinting hazel eyes sauntered up to you. "Hey, I'm Aidan. I'm new in town—but maybe a cute thing like you could show me around?" he lazily drawled.

Your skin prickled with discomfort. You suddenly wanted to shrink into yourself, but you forced yourself to smile anyway. "Sorry, I'm not interested."

Aidan laughed, undeterred, and leaned into you. "Playing hard to get, huh? That's kinda hot," he whispered into your ear, making your stomach churn.

"I said no thanks," you responded, laughing nervously. You should run. You needed to get out of there. But for some reason, you found yourself rooted to the spot, trapped with Aidan and the pungent stench of his cologne.

Aidan pouted, using his arms to pin you against the wall. "C'mon babe, just give me a chance. I don't bite."

"How many times is she gonna tell you to fuck off before you get the point?" Relief flooded your chest at the sound of your boyfriend's voice.

Aidan rolled his eyes. "Why don't you fuck off, dude? We were having a moment."

Rafe glared at Aidan, his eyes blazing with rage, and grabbed the other boy by the collar of his Lacoste polo. "That's my girlfriend, you jackass. And you're gonna step the fuck away from her. Now."

You suddenly felt a zinging sensation in your core, turned on by Rafe's behavior. He was so sweet and silly and kind but could turn into a snarling dog in an instant — definitely not someone to fuck around with.

Rafe released Aidan's collar and the brunette gulped, suddenly trembling with fear.

"I - I'm sorry man. I had no idea," Aidan stammered. "I'll leave her alone."

Rafe wrapped a protective arm around your waist, scowling at Aidan. "Get the fuck out of my house."

Aidan meekly nodded, scurrying out of Tannyhill. The party filled with laughter, with people cheering Rafe on. But Rafe ignored the commotion, only focused on you.

"I'm so sorry baby. I should've been there to protect you from that—that asshat," Rafe apologetically said, tenderly stroking your cheek. You leaned into his touch, instantly comforted by the warmth radiating from his body.

"It's okay, Rafe," you assured him. "It's not like you could take me into the bathroom with you."

Rafe frowned, kissing the top of your head. "Maybe I should. Can't have these fuckin creeps tryna mess with my girl."

You laughed, shaking your head at your well-meaning boyfriend. "I adore you, but I'm not gonna stand there and watch you pee."

Rafe flashed you a lopsided grin. "Why not? We've done way worse things in there. That poor sink has seen some shit."

You playfully shoved Rafe's shoulder. "Rafe Alexander Cameron! I can't believe my knight in shining armor is so crass."

"Don't act like you don't love it, baby," he casually replied, kissing your neck. You let out a soft moan, tilting upward so Rafe could have more access.

The two of you were interrupted by the sound of Topper fake retching. "Begging y'all to please get a room," he pleaded. You couldn't help but snicker at Topper's dramatics.

Rafe lazily flipped off his friend before whisking you off to his bedroom and locking the door. "Get on the bed for me, pretty girl," Rafe said huskily, brushing his lips against your ear. Damn, that nickname sounded so much sexier from Rafe's lips than that douche from earlier. (Aaron? Andrew?)

You kicked off your sandals and laid down on top of Rafe's king-sized bed, pulling off your dress and underwear. Rafe quickly shed himself of his clothes and laid on top of you, kissing down every inch of your body.

"So I'm your knight in shining armor, huh? Well let me give my princess the treatment she deserves," Rafe drawled, relishing in the way your body reacted to his touch.

He plunged two fingers inside you, pumping them in and curling them right against your sweet spot. You gasped, loving the way he stretched you out. Rafe had been the only guy you'd ever slept with and at this point, you couldn't imagine yourself with anyone else; how could you, when you've only experienced the best?

You began to crave more than just his fingers, however. "Rafey," you whined, fully overcome with lust.

Rafe chuckled, lazily rubbing at your clit. "Use your words, princess. Tell me how to make you feel good."

You gulped, still feeling a little timid when it came to expressing your desires in the bedroom. "I need—I need your mouth, Rafey. Please."

Rafe knitted his eyebrows in mock confusion. "Where, baby? Your lips? Your cheek? Your forehead?"

"Rafe Cameron. Eat my pussy before I explode," you begged, your horniness taking over.

Rafe smirked, pulling his fingers out of you before slowly running his tongue across your folds. “Fuck, I love it when you talk dirty. Almost as much as I love this sweet little pussy. She's already so wet for me, holy shit."

You whimpered, arching your back in ecstasy as Rafe continued to pleasure you, kissing and sucking at your clit. You felt that familiar fire in your stomach, a sure sign that your climax was fast approaching.

"Oh, Rafe—'m gonna cum," you moaned, your legs shaking. Rafe sped up his movements, rubbing your clit with his thumb and index finger while pumping his tongue in and out of your hole. Eventually the dam burst and you felt your orgasm wash over you as your legs clamped down on either side of Rafe's head.

You took a minute to come down from your high, admiring the sight of your boyfriend with mussed-up hair and your glistening slick decorating his face. Even while looking totally disheveled, Rafe was a work of art.

Rafe wiped his face with the back of his hand, savoring the rest of your juices on his fingers. "Always my favorite meal baby," he purred. "But now I need to be inside you. Turn around for me, princess."

You shifted your position on the bed so you were lying on your stomach while Rafe rummaged in his bedside drawer for a condom. You heard him unwrapping the foil packet and rolling the condom on before feeling the head of Rafe's cock teasing your hole. You let out a breathy moan, loving and loathing the teasing simultaneously.

Rafe held on to your hips as he pushed into you, thrusting in and out at a steady pace. "Can't get enough of this pussy," he grunted. "So warm and tight f'me."

The din of the party going on downstairs faded away, and you could only focus on the sounds of sex occurring in the room: the duet of moans between Rafe and you, the creak of the bed, the sound of skin slapping against skin. A year ago, you couldn't imagine coming out of your shell like this. But now? Well—

"Gonna cum again, Rafey," you breathily blurted out, feeling your pussy clench down on Rafe's cock.

"Fuck yeah, princess, just come all over my cock," Rafe groaned.

Almost as if on cue, you felt your climax wash over you, and Rafe helped you ride out your orgasm before spilling his load into the condom. You had a fleeting thought about Rafe shooting his cum inside you instead, but you weren't quite ready for that yet.

You and Rafe took a minute to catch your breaths before he took off the condom and tied it up, tossing it into the wastebasket next to his bed. He rolled over on his side, enveloping you in his arms and burying his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

"Baby, you're incredible," Rafe murmured, kissing your shoulder.

You smiled, feeling light and airy inside. "Rafe, you're incredible. Thanks for being my scary dog earlier."

"I'm sorry, 'scary dog?'" Rafe repeated with a laugh.

"Scary dog privilege. It's something I saw on TikTok," you explained. "Basically it means that if you're with an intimidating-looking person, people will leave you alone because they don't want to mess with a scary dog. And seeing you be protective like that? It was pretty hot."

Rafe fondly gazed at you, stroking your hip. "Well shit, I'll be your scary dog anytime then, baby."

[shokosbunny]

CRAVE - chapter seven

nav 𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚

masterlist 𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ • previous 𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚

chapter warnings: use of profanity, mild argument, brief mentions of grooming/toxicity

the subsequent solitary walk of shame back to your apartment provides the perfect environment for you to think about what exactly you were going to say to naoya.

you’ve faced the facts. you don't love him anymore. the man you fell in love with is gone. in fact, there's a high chance that he never even existed, and naoya put up a good facade long enough for you to get attached, until he was sure you loved him too much to leave.

you look back on your entire relationship with the man. you had met him at megumi’s 15th birthday party. he said all the right things, telling you how you were much smarter, more mature than other girls your age. he gave all the right signals, and by the time you started officially dating on your 18th birthday, you were madly in love.

no one approved. not your friends, not your parents. hell, even megumi’s parents, toji and mina fushiguro, who had known you since middle school, told - no - begged you not to waste your youth on a man like naoya, and that if you didn't see it now, you'd learn when it was too late.

it's like a veil has been lifted off your eyes. you realise that it wasn't naoya’s age that made him mature. in all other aspects, he was like a pubescent boy, petulant, selfish and disrespectful.

but yuta… god. you don't think he has a single selfish bone in his body.

you know what you have to do.

“we’re not breaking up,” naoya says with certainty, looking at you as if you're stupid, high, concussed or all three.

“naoya,” you say placatingly, as if negotiating with a toddler. “we aren't compatible anymore. the signs have been there-”

“goddamnit, y/n, i said we are not breaking up!” naoya snaps. he always yells when he doesn't get his way. but again, so do you.

“don't raise your fucking voice at me!” you retort, before he can even finish his sentence.

“i don't want you anymore, i know damn well why you're so secretive and distant, and you know this isn't going anywhere, so why are you trying so hard to grasp onto this…concept of a relationship?!”

“because- this- you don't know what you're saying, baby,” is his response. he’s choosing to go the consolatory route in a last ditch effort to delay the inevitable.

“this is just a rough patch. we can get through this, we’ve done it before, yeah?”

you shake your head, determined not to let your resolve crumble. “no, naoya. come on. we’ve only been together a year, and we argue on and off like we're on the cusp of a divorce. you cheated on me. i...may have cheated on you. this-”

“wait,” he interrupts. “you what?”

damn your honesty.

“yeah,” you breathe out. the relationship is basically over, so you see no point in hiding it.

“when? it was your birthday, right? that's why you got so-” he begins, and you tune him out on his rant as he paces the length of your bedroom.

for all his flaws, naoya is impeccably sharp. he can practically sense your focus shifting before it even fully happens, and snaps his fingers in front of your face.

“hey,” he says. “don't do that, you know it pisses me off.”

“sorry,” you respond, more as a formality than anything else. “but, yeah. it's best if we don't continue this. you're better off with a girl…well, your age.”

naoya scoffs. “you don't say. last time i mess with a fickle brat.”

“last time i mess with a pedophile,” comes your grumbled retort.

the ordeal is more peaceful than you anticipated, and in mere minutes, he’s gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

next 𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚

tags: @toniseweje @tsukuhoe @itsafairytalekay @ayla-1605 @moncher-ire @rikaroses @starrysho @blu3-l0v3r @number0netrash @zayuriluvs @susiekern @mikamii25 @vorfreudevortex @q2uq2u @ermbehindyou @mayyhaps @nomoreilovesyou @good-mourning0 @revolvinggeto @4crewz

[bullet-prooflove]

5500 Follower Celebration: Tears of Pearl - Eliot Spencer x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @madisonbroxson1 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog  @readings-to-share  @sameenbyhat

Companion piece to:

Star - Eliot realises he's made a terrible mistake.

The Worst Thing - There's only two people that know the worst thing Eliot has ever done.

You’re wearing pearls,  Tahitian black pearls to be exact.

 It’s the first thing Eliot notices because it’s an unusual choice for a woman of your calibre. You society girls usually prefer diamonds, the bigger the better. That’s the first indication you’re not like the others, it’s not the last.

He spends a year getting to know you as your personal protection specialist. You hate the fact you have a bodyguard but he was hired by your fiancé Moreau after threats have been made by some of the people he’s pissed off.

“I can’t have anything happening to my investment.” He tells Eliot as he sits across from him at a desk that costs more than most homes these days. “This marriage opens up a lot of doors for me, gives me connections I wouldn’t have access to.”

“What does her father get out of it?” He’d asked as he flicked through your dossier.

“A cash injection into some of his more problematic businesses.” He’d said as he lounged back in his chair. “He can’t stand the shame of failing.”

You are everything that Eliot does not expect from someone whose a daughter in one of the founding families. He sees the work you do with those charities, the way you immerse yourself in it as if you’re trying to make up for the sins of those that came before you. You’re not content with cutting a cheque, you need to be involved and not in the public shit either, the stuff that would get you recognition, but the grassroots stuff. Teaching kids to read, sitting with the elderly who have no families and then there’s the homeless, the people who don’t have a voice.

The first time you sit down next to a veteran in the street Eliot almost hurls you right back up because you, you don’t seem to understand the risk that comes with being with Moreau. The fact the people who are trying to hurt him will use you to do it.

“Let me take five minutes to share a coffee and a sandwich with my new friend Joe.” You negotiate and he reluctantly agrees.

It’s not five minutes, it’s thirty because Joe, he’s non-threatening and watching you interact with him it’s fascinating. You don’t act like other people, you don’t talk over him, try to give him advice, you just listen and to a guy like Joe whose spent years being in the background, ignored, it’s overwhelming, which is why you take his hand when he gets a little upset, clasping it tightly in your own. He understands in that moment that you’re lonely, that you probably have been for a long time.

When you do come away Eliot’s silent because he isn’t sure how to articulate this new knowledge. It’s only when you get to the car that he notices your pearl necklace is gone, that you must have placed it into Joe’s cup.

“You gonna keep giving away all your jewellery like that?” He asks you, his gaze flickering up to meet yours as he watches you in the rearview mirror.

“They’re just things.” You say distractedly, looking out of the window. “Things that could help other people who actually need it.”

That’s when Eliot realises how trapped you are in this world, it’s a gilded cage you were born into, not one that you want. When he looks back he knows that that’s the moment that things changed between the two of you, he saw you for you, not the role that Moreau had crafted for you.

Six months down the line, you’re wearing a different set of pearls, a more expensive set and Eliot’s tearing them from your throat, breaking the strands because you’re in the midst of a panic attack and the damn things are practically padlocked around your neck with a gold clasp that can only be undone with a key. The pearls scatter across the floor, rolling in all directions and that lock, he throws it out the window in disgust.

It’s another Moreau special. A collar to remind you who you belong to because he saw you talking to another man at a charity event, one that had paid you a little too much attention. He doesn’t know that Eliot spends most nights in your bed, that he makes love to you in the shower before he puts on his suit and pretends he’s been in his own room all along.

“I don’t want to marry him.” You sob as Eliot uses his thumb to chase away the tears that leak down your cheeks. He despises the kind of man that can do this to you, that steals away your autonomy, that tries to stamp out all the goodness in your soul.

“You don’t have to.” He whispers, his forehead coming to rest against yours as he looks into your eyes. “I’ll find a way to get you out of this. I promise you I will.”

Love Eliot? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[martsonmars]

Hi friends! I keep committing and recommitting to making a serious effort to come back to the fandom, and I think this time finally I got my Snowbaz feelings back for real. So I'm going to try. Thank you to everyone who kept tagging me; I'm a little lost re: new people existing on Tumblr, but I hope to catch up!

So much to do in this post. For now, some snippets.

Exhibit A: my writing goal for the month. It's okay if it doesn't work out, but I decided I need short-term writing goals and this is my first one.

Baz pushes his sunglasses up his nose, staring at the man behind the counter of the shop. He hopes that hiding in plain sight—without his costume, without his mask—is a more effective disguise than trying to wear a fake moustache.

The apron is there, gloriously stretching over a broad chest that does not turn Baz's insides into soup and make him wish he could go back three—five, ten—years and do everything differently.

Exhibit B: COBB idea. I'm so excited!!!!!!!!!!!!

Going right is never the right choice.

I've known this since the first time my father brought me along on his travels (read: I hid in his trunk) and I had to face a crocodile armed only with a blunt Swiss Army knife I'd stolen from said trunk. All because I'd turned right. And then right again.

When he found me, scraped knees and his precious knife lost in the belly of the beast, he didn't even yell. He just looked at me like he always did. Like the biggest disappointment in his life of failures.

Exhibit C: potential second COBB idea, that I'm going to submit only if I make enough progress by the end of the month.

[Baz] holds my hand like it's the only thing keeping him grounded. Present. The minutes are trickling away from us like sand in a broken hourglass. The sun hasn't started rising yet, the night as dark as it gets, the cold seeping into our bones.

He holds my hand like he's afraid he'd float away if he didn't.

I know I'd be glad if it happened.

I have a lot of fandom resolutions for this year and I'm scared they'll end up like any New Year's resolutions... but I'll list them anyway. 6 resolutions Sunday:

Be more involved on Tumblr. I want to post more, but especially start reblogging and commenting on things again.

Write more. Last year I wrote so little and posted even less, and it made me sad when I realised it in the past days. So much was going on, so I don't blame myself, but I miss writing and I believe I can try to make it a regular thing again.

I want to read more fics. It's been years since I last read fics consistently. I missed everything!! Time to slowly catch up.

Relatedly, I want to try to comment more. I've never been a great commenter because it overwhelms me, but it's hypocritical since I need everyone and their brother to leave 10 paragraph long comments on everything I write... So I want to commit to doing better.

I want to try to publish a fic every month, at least. @palimpsessed suggested doing some sort of monthly countdown to Carry On's birthday in October and I'm all in.

I want to succeed at COBB. For one reason or the other, more often than not because I am cursed and I never finished writing my things, I've never managed to start and finish posting something for COBB. But I have two concepts I'm so excited about (not sure yet if I'll try both of them) and I want to commit to doing well. Wish me good luck.

My good old tagging list <3 I hope to add new people soon! But hi my dear old friends, how's it going?

@facewithoutheart @sillyunicorn @onepintobean @shrekgogurt @wellbelesbian @palimpsessed @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @forabeatofadrum @fatalfangirl @cutestkilla @ileadacharmedlife @bookish-bogwitch @artsyunderstudy @orange-peony @larkral @raenestee @stitchyqueer @hushed-chorus @technetiumai @brilla-brilla-estrellita @thewholelemon @theimpossibledemon @imagineacoolusername @blackberrysummerblog @theearlgreymage @rimeswithpurple @messofthejess @alexalexinii @whatevertheweather @jbrrring @prettygoododds @youarenevertooold @best--dress @theotherhufflepuff @monbons @run-for-chamo-miles @confused-bi-queer @aristocratic-otter @dragoneggos @gekkoinapeartree @ionlydrinkhotwater @erzbethluna @shemakesmeforget @basiltonbutliketheherb @otherpeoplesheartachept-2 @noblecorgi @j-nipper-95

[the-100-days-of-junkan]

Day 97

Smile by Kayleen756894

Same as when we covered Burning Lungs, check the tags for this fic before ya jump in cause it gets pretty dark even within the first chapter. 

It’s a big day for the project people, I mentioned back on Day 60 that there were three fics that I consider directly responsible for this entire thing since they’re what set me on this path of a comically large amount of Junkan. And today we FINALLY talk about another one of them, even if I admittedly did cover a little bit of my history with this specific story during Day 60 for the sake of context. Apologies if I repeat myself a few times!

The previous few days I’ve been covering fic first, then the art. For this day however I’m going to cover the art first, along with any other bonus facts I have, and THEN i will do my best to adequately sing the praises of today’s stories.

Also let it be known that the music I put on while I read through the whole fic in preparation for today’s ramble was “LEASE” by Takeshi Abo. 10 hour loop too. Someone will find that funny probably, maybe even you!

(This is another long one, get ready)

Before I address the art I might as well have a little fun and discuss the order I decided to do these in, interesting I know.

Days 91-92 were easy, the first Soft Fic and the first fic to use the Non-Abusive Tag, they had to be the opener. Day 93 was one of the longer stories so I did that one first, since I did read each story before working on the art. From there it’s a pretty simple pattern of “Short Fic followed by a longer, more serious fic that I gotta psyche myself up for.” And it was done pretty much with todays subject in mind, but we’ll get for it. 

You’ll notice I have two different art pieces today, the reason is simple. I wasn’t very happy with the initial art, so I made a much more direct adaptation of a scene from the first chapter to go with it. And in a rare instance I can also bring you some early versions of the initial piece!

From the initial sketch you can see that this was supposed to be a proper cover for the story, as I wanted to feature scenes from each of the three chapters, that middle shot is one I’ve had in my mind since the first time I read the story. Those who have read the fic can probably recognize each one. The second image was almost the final version of this. I scrapped the lower portion of the art for a few reasons. The flames of burnout were miniscule but still present, though rest assured these would not come into play until after the point of when the fanfic art is all finished. Secondly, when I was supposed to work on this art, a power outage hit my house. This also meant that in terms of making the art I only had the first chapter read, anything else was purely memory (Like I said though, I read the full fic for todays ramble, rest assured). And thirdly, I kinda, just thought it didn’t look good? And as you can see this version had details cut despite how far into the process it was, fully removing the expressions outside of the two smiling. Cause y’know . . . “Smile.” Plus in retrospect the eyes, while striking compared to the rest of the art, look kinda fucking silly?

Why didn’t I like the end result? Honestly I think I was just in a bad headspace at the time due to the combination of the power out stressing me out, and just generally speaking my mental health has never been the most structurally sound aspect of myself. I’m good at drawing, not so much being well put together. Looking at it now, while I think the piece is a bit esoteric and might not be what I’d make today for a piece based on this fic, I like it a lot.

And at the end of the dead even if I didn’t like how the first one turned out, I’m pretty happy with it! Even with perfectionist brain bitching at me that I could have done Junko’s hair a bit better at the given angle. Just a straight adaptation of Junko and Mikan’s first kiss from Chapter 1. The most interesting note on it’s creation is that I had to make last minute changes to Mikan because I realized her hair needed to be a lot shorter and more well put together, as earlier in the fic Junko does fix it up a bit. 

Oh! I did also send the second pic to the author herself as a way of introducing myself and showing appreciation, so that’s a bit of added sentimental value! Kayleen’s an absolute treat by the way, super fun to talk too, great insight on writing, you should absolutely check out the rest of her writing! I’m not in most of the fandoms featured say for RWBY, but based on the quality of her writing on the Danganronpa side of things, I feel confident recommending anything she’s published in the past, present, and future!~ 

Speaking of writing, I should probably like. Talk about the god damn fic, huh? Well. Nope! I still have more fun facts!

I almost didn’t adapt Smile! I knew for certain that Kayleen needed a spot on this list, it would have felt wrong otherwise. And there were two fics in mind for adaptation.

“Smile”, obviously, and “Soft (But only for Her).” My earliest plan was going to be to just do both. However I only had 8 days to work with, and spoilers, Day 98 is in fact a returning author, so I didn’t want to take up half of my slots on two authors, I wanted to show my appreciation to as many as I could during this string of the event before going back to my own stuff for the last two days. So I thought it over, and decided that Smile was too important to pass up on this project, leaving Soft (But only for Her) for later.

I did have a full plan for it though, unlike Smile where I didn’t really have an idea going into it. I’ll tell you what the plan was gonna be.

Most people would be curious which of the around 30 wonderful one shots I could have chosen to adapt, I’ve already done one of them with the very first chapter in that collection! However you my audience, are not most people. There’s a good chance you’re reading this paragraph, rubbing your temples and resigning yourself to the fact that I was very much going to draw art based on every single piece of that collection. Because yes I was just gonna adapt all of it. Was gonna make a big collage out of all of em, even the chapters that have so much angst I struggle to even read them cause they make me too sad! I’d still do it too. I probably will. When you least expect it. 

For now though I really wanna draw something based on Chapter 25 when I have the time. I wanna draw art based on a lot of other fanfics actually, I’ve just been pretty swamped. But rest assured, to those of you who’ve written a Junkan fic and weren’t featured. Rest assured, I have my eyes open, I’m always looking that tag over, and there were definitely some stories omitted that I really wish I could have included IN the project. Give it time. My self control grows weaker by the day!~

Okay, okay. NOW, I should be able to talk about the fic. Probably.

So I’ve told this story before, but now you’ll get to hear it in a bit more detail compared to before. Will hopefully not be too repetitive for ya’ll!

So once again we jump back a few years during say, 2020, MAYBE early 2021. I find a fic that includes Junkan when I was simply trying to find Ikuzono. It ends up being pretty cute and makes me curious, “I thought this ship was super toxic? How is this one so cute?”

So, I look around the tag, still not sure how to Navigate AO3 even after gaining a lot of experience through the power of many late night tokomaru binges. And as you already knew or could guess, I came across Smile.

At the time it only had 2 chapters, which normally might have turned me away at the time, I wasn’t a desperate animal like I am today. However I guess I either ignored that, or just didn’t care, too curious to see what else this ship could entail.

So here I am, sitting in my bed, writing this ramble, trying to figure out once again how to talk about one of the fics that set me off on this obsession with Junko and Mikan as a softer, loving couple. That and also a fic that is much more serious in terms of its tone and content, as this fic, like Drowning, is one of the only fics in this stretch of the project that is definitely set in the main canon of DR. Serving as essentially a new origin for Junkan as a couple prior to the tragedy. 

I’m sure I’ve said before that when it comes to how I view Junko and Mikan’s relationship, that Val’s work is basically the primary blueprint for how I interpret and portray them. However that’s for the Non-Despair AUs, while there is some bleed over in how I handle Canon portrayals (And I admittedly haven’t done a lot with a serious interpretation of that), in my brain this story, Smile, is the blueprint of how I view a canon timeline version of Junkan. That might just be bias from it being the first fic I read that like, but it does kind of help that this is just one of the most excellently written interpretation of these characters I’ve ever bared witness to.

The first chapter was originally supposed to be a Standalone according to the Author’s Notes, and it really works as one! It’s a very complete story that’s super well put together, and ends very satisfyingly if you just stop after finishing it. I’m extremely glad it continued, as I don’t think my obsession would have come to fruition when it did if not for those following two chapters. But maybe I’m wrong cause this fic certainly knows how to hook you on a ship!

I was god damn mesmerized reading the first chapter. This has to be one of the saddest takes on Mikan’s character that I’ve ever read. Burning Lungs comes close however we never get to actually see things from her perspective, that’s all from Junko’s outsider point of view. Here we get to see it all from Mikan’s perspective, all of it, the sad stuff, the extra sad stuff, the stuff I don’t really know how to talk about because I’m inadequate with this kind of subject matter. And some gay panic, because it’s not Junkan without at least a little gay panic somewhere in the mix.

Junko is really god damn good in this first chapter, she’s god damn good in the whole fic but we’re talking about chapter one right now so i’m specifying. She has such a mysterious aura around her the entire time, and not just the obvious “Oh she’s planning the tragedy behind the scenes,” but also the mystery of how she feels about Mikan! It’s something left up to viewer interpretation in the first chapter, and to a much lesser extent the following chapters (I say lesser extent cause it does eventually lean into her having real feelings for Mikan, just being super confused by them. At least that’s how I look at it). Everytime I read one of these stories that serve as an origin point for these two’s relationship, it’s always really interesting to see how things initiate. It’s pretty much always Junko initiating of course, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a fic where it was Mikan who made the first move? If there is I’m having a severe lapse in memory it seems, or I’ve misinterpreted! The point of course being I really like the way Junko handles things here, saving Mikan from her darkest point, all that good shit! 

And the kiss? I drew it for a reason, it’s amazing. From the buildup to the way Mikan has a rare instance of boldness and grabs Junko’s tie? The grabbing the tie part makes my brain explode, the fact that Junko herself was surprised by it is even better. I love it whenever Mikan can actually get Junko surprised or flustered. It’s great!

I feel like I should be more detailed, more meticulous, but it really is a struggle trying to be in depth when discussing something this good, I wouldn’t consider it my strong suit? 

So let’s try moving onto chapter 2! I do at least have a story with this one but that can be for when I finish desperately trying to talk about the chapter itself. 

It’s lovely! Big shock! We get to see the two of them just acting like a normal couple for a bit, and even better we get to see the two partaking in some sleepy cuddles. That scene also does one of those Junkan things I fuckin love where Junko just, fucking reads Mikan’s mind. I know that’s not what she’s doing but also it’s funnier to put it that way. I just like Junko putting her analytical ability to use by reading Mikan and understanding her finer details. It can be used in all kinds of ways, cute ways, funny ways, saucy ways, but this might just be my favorite way? Her being able to tell when Mikan’s about to spiral and snapping her out of it quick. 

Their date is lovely by the way, love the drive there, the conversation is just a treat. And I really like the reference to the grenade scene from the DR3 anime, I might not have fond memories with that series like, at all, but that one clip of Junko tossing the grenade and Mukuro (We’ll get to her) catching it is just a really fun bit of energy. It’s also just fucking funny because it reads like they practiced that shit for like 2 fuckin weeks- Sorry, distracted. Anyway I think the scene is both a fun reference, and another good way to kinda remind of us the darker parts of this storyline underlying the softer surface. Junko is in fact trying to burn the world down, she just also happens to have a tooth rotting-ly sweet relationship with a very sad nurse. The moments where Mikan unintentionally peers into that world, whether hearing an explosion or seeing the red roots of Junko’s true haircolor, I love it all!

Great moment with Mikan helping that kid from bullies, always love to see Mikan flourishing in these stories (foreshadowing)! I think it is very funny that the small child just immediately clocked that Mikan and Junko were dating, the kid either has a crazy gaydar or Mikan and Junko are the least subtle people alive . . . okay yeah it’s that second one.

The following scene is great too, fuck those parents, and fuck yeah to Junko coming in for the clutch as she is one to do in this fic. The kiss to follow? Fantastic. Junko’s joke about exhibitionism? Also fantastic. The part where Mikan says she’s gonna go see her parents- Fuck.

Okay so, I’mma make the assumption that if you’re this deep into my ramble you’ve probably read the fic already. And if you skipped out on the fic due to the subject matter noted in the tags, you can probably already tell by my apprehension that everything in this fic from here on out is like, the opposite end of the spectrum from all the sweet (albeit ominous) stuff we’ve had up till now. And you’d be correct, and I quite frankly don’t know how to talk about it, like, at all. There are parts of this that I do wanna talk about from this and the following chapter, but also I feel neither confident nor comfortable explicitly discussing what happens to Mikan here. Even if you can probably already tell.

Still, I must show my respects to the literature and it’s author, so I will do my best. Apologies if I fumble here.

I’m still not gonna talk in depth about Mukuro here, but I do like the conversation leading up to this scene, before Mikan shows up. It’s something that was going to inevitably come up, because yeah, Junko can make Mikan fall deeply in love with her, but that won’t exactly prepare her for being complicit in the apocalypse. There’s a part of me that’s curious what her gameplan was before the end of this chapter happens, how was she going to try and turn Mikan over to her side 100% and make sure she’s ready. The world will never know.

Junko’s great at the end of this chapter, not just the comfort she provides. But the way she, in the words of the story, Snaps. That line? That stuck with me when I first read this. I think it’s the moment that confirmed for me personally, that yeah, Junko does love Mikan even if she doesn’t understand it. And it wasn’t just that moment that stuck with me, it was the whole fic by this point.

That’s right, it's story time. So when I found this fic, there were only two chapters. And I wanna remind ya’ll that before this fic I read a fic so silly, soft, and fluffy that it made me question what this ship could be. Jumping from that, to this was definitely . . . Whiplash?

What happened after that is fun, because I don’t fucking remember. I think unironically the amount of stress that ending put me under just from the shock of it, made me fuckin black out?? Which by the way, huge kudos, it takes some really fucking good writing to get me so invested that I get real life stressed as shit because of bad things happening to the characters. But anyway, I didn’t actually just, black out from stress. But everything after that is so blurred that it’s borderline incomprehensible, I try to remember past that point, and it’s like looking at memories put through a paper shredder before being put back together by a toddler doing a handstand. 

All I can say for sure is that starting from the morning after, I was obsessed. I woke up, and kept fucking checking to see if Chapter 3 was out yet. I hadn’t checked the time of the latest update, I still barely fucking understood how AO3 actually worked. I’m pretty sure it was through this fic that I learned that when a fic updates it moves to the top of the page for a given tag. This was also way before I had an AO3 account, so I couldn’t just subscribe or bookmark it. I’m sure I read other fics at this point, probably including Kayleen’s other works? But the timespan between Chapter 2 and 3 feel like white noise, whatever I read didn’t exist in my memories by the time that story ended. And god damn did it end.

When Chapter 3 popped up, it was late I’m pretty sure. I don’t know what I was doing at the time, maybe looking at manga online, talking with friends over discord dms, failing homework over online school, maybe even doing some of my own writing since i’m pretty sure this was back before my passion for it died out. Whatever it was, I dropped it fucking IMMEDIATELY. I needed to see this ending, I needed that catharsis.

So I layed in my bed, in a house I was still new to, and read the god damn chapter.

It was perfect. One of the first times to my knowledge where I’ve had the satisfaction of reading an unfinished fic and getting to actually see it end.

Where do I start, what do I even say? Anything I say just kind of boils down to “Junko and Mikan are perfectly written and I love their interactions and also god dammit I feel so bad for Mikan.”

The scene on the rooftop is great, I remember in one of Kayleen’s other fics Mikan shows concern for Junko’s eating habits, so getting to this scene and seeing the reverse was nice. And like, god, Junko’s so good in this. I get she’s trying to start the end of the world but she’s doing such a fucking good job here. Sure, she asks Mikan to kill her parents right after this, which might not be the most normal way of helping your girlfriend through a severely traumatic experience, but that’s just Junko y’know? 

Should I talk about Mukuro now? I should probably talk about Mukuro now, I really wanted to wait like one more scene but fuck it we’re talking about Mukuro now. 

Have I ever really talked about Mukuro in the context of Junkan? I know I’ve definitely made note of her, and I’ve obviously included her in these pieces with varying degrees of prominence. But I don’t think I’ve ever noted how I think she’s is one of the most interesting and amazing assets of Junkan as a ship. Calling Mukuro an asset feels like a disservice, but I lack the words to adequately describe what I mean here. 

The Despair Sisters are already one of the most interesting dynamics in Danganronpa, and a pretty versatile one at that based on the various interpretations I’ve seen of these two. And I think adding Junkan into the mix is just lovely, because it adds an outsider perspective, but not just that, it’s the outsider perspective of someone who’s closer than anyone else due to Mikan dating Junko. Bonus for the contrast of Junko pampering Mikan and shit talking Mukuro, even if I believe that shit talking is just a very layered way for Junko to express that she does care about Mukuro as a sister. 

And I think Mukuro and Mikan is a really fun dynamic too! I love the idea of Mikan finding love through Junko, and then in turn getting a second person in her life that cares about her. Mukuro being Mikan’s bodyguard bare minimum is great, protect that sweet little nurse you desaturated girliepop you. But I think the way their dynamic can evolve overtime as Mikan continues to date Junko is great. 

Mukuro getting to see firsthand how Mikan is changing Junko for the better, even if it’s in a canon timeline where Junko’s still like, very locked in on the apocalypse. She’s getting to be happier in a more genuine way, which I’m sure Mukuro would be grateful for, and that just makes her caring about Mikan’s wellbeing all the better.

Plus like, something I don’t think about often, at least not until very recently, but if Junko and Mikan are dating, and inevitably get married. That does just kinda mean Mikan and Mukuro are sisters in law. And, I fuckin love that? Mikan not only gets an amazing relationship with Junko, but she also just gets to have a sibling, something that to my knowledge she doesn’t have in canon. It’s that found family stuff that I love, even if the found family in this case is a bit more literal rather than just being a metaphor. And Mukuro gets a new sister, one who cares about her just as much as Junko, but is just significantly better at expressing that by comparison. I think Mukuro would really appreciate having a sister who like, hugs her without slinging an insult, or just getting any kind of open, visceral appreciation without having to read between the lines. 

I love to see Mikan with plenty of friends, she has a bunch of dynamics that I appreciate. But I also have a lot of appreciation for the idea of Junko and Mukuro being the only people she cares about, the only people she needs to survive. 

Where was I- Oh right.

Kayleen’s depiction of Mukuro and her dynamic with our other two primary characters is amazing. Spectacular even. Fucking perfect perhaps. It does everything I love about the Despair Sister’s dynamic without bordering into uncomfortable territory like some facets of the main canon does. But what I especially love is her dynamic with Mikan in the few moments we get to see them interact. A protector, a friend, and eventually a sister to her, it’s amazing. The scene when Mikan wakes up to Mukuro watching over her while Junko is away is phenomenal, and I love Mikan’s concern for her given the way Junko treats her, which does look pretty bad without the deeper context. The moment at the very end of Chapter 2 where Mukuro just heads off to (I assume) kidnap Mikan’s parents after just sharing a look with Junko, it’s another one of my favorite bits in that scene.

And of course, the scene that lead me to start yapping about Mukuro like that out of fucking nowhere, her talking to Mikan about Junko’s test. It’s great how she tries to help Mikan come to a decision without forcing anything. But also finally giving some more confirmation that Junko definitely feels something for Mikan, expressing how many changes in her demeanor she’s noted. And the reveal that Junko routinely struggles with Nightmares whenever Mikan isn’t around?? Fuck I love that. God dammit. 

I feel like I should talk more about this scene, but I feel like I kinda did? To an extent? A lot of what I just said about Mukuro’s place in this dynamic kinda sums up a lot of the great things about this scene. So I suppose we move on.

The buildup to the big scene of this chapter is wonderful of course, not much to say there. And I admittedly just really want to talk about the scene that follows.

Because god it’s everything I was hoping for when I finished that second chapter and had no idea whether I’d see this scene or not. 

The reveal is great, and as grotesque as I anticipated. I do cringe a little reading some of the details, not the modern dickhead definition of cringe either I mean the “Oh god fuck that’s brutal” kind of cringe. And it is so perfectly contrasted by Junko being Junko, love the idea that Junko and Mukuro just nabbed up these people and didn’t explain a goddamn thing until this very moment where they finally figure out that this crazy bitch is dating their daughter. Mukuro punching Mikan’s dad in the face was fucking great too. 

And the buildup to what comes next, is so god damn good. It feels weird out of context celebrating it, but the scene where Mikan breaks? Fucking spectacular. The distortion on the word Red hits like a fucking truck, and also speaks to my childhood of being a creepypasta kid because i’m like, half sure that’s the zalgo text filter, correct me if I’m wrong of course. Point is it was an out of nowhere detail that perfectly emphasized the tensity of what’s about to happen.

And I can go on another tangent now, because this is something I have had no opportunity to talk about during the entire duration of this project. At least not to my memory or knowledge.

I love Angry Mikan. I love the Mikan that snaps and is fully over the edge, not willing to deal with anyones bullshit. I of course have criticisms of Chapter 3 in DR2, but Mikan’s reveal of her true self, or I suppose the herself prior to the NWP, I love that moment. 

I’ve never depicted Angry Mikan before, but someday I really want to. So until then I take great enjoyment in seeing such a rare side of Mikan, which itself is even rarer in these fics. I think counting this one there are only 3, maybe 4 other fics off the top of my head where we get to see Mikan fully lose her temper. Now of course, I could be suffering another lapse in memory, or I just haven’t read the other stories that feature it. I only think I’ve read like, 90% of the Soft Junkan out there, I can’t confidently claim I actually have for certain, so maybe I missed it! 

Point is, seeing Angry Mikan is a treat. And here especially is fucking amazing, the verbal teardown, the havoc of it all. It’s great. And Junko just adds to it with her sheer excitement (which is putting it lightly given some of the dialogue), getting to see Mikan finally become, from her perspective, the best version of herself. Someone who can survive alongside her. 

When things start moving, it’s amazing. A small moment I really love, and the moment I was originally gonna wait for to talk about Mukuro with. Her offering up an assortment of firearms from “Her personal collection.” is just, weirdly wholesome? The things I get to say talking about this ship I swear. I dunno, it feels like such a small, personal moment and offer that only Mukuro could provide, and feels like the perfect cap to Mikan and Mukuro’s dynamic throughout this fic.

Also, fucking enamored with the the presence of a Rocket Launcher. Funniest alternate timeline sitting right there, imagining Mikan with a fucking rpg over her shoulder is hilarious.

Junko offering the reverse side of the weaponry coin is lovely too of course, but it’s the wonderful stuff I’d already expect with Junko, so much less of a pleasant surprise like Mukuro. I do appreciate her keeping a knife used on Mikan’s father as a trophy though, imagine that over the fireplace.

Anyway I don’t know how I could really explain to you why the torture scene is nice. It’s catharsis, it’s just catharsis. I don’t even remember how fucking long I waited to read this moment but it was so worth it, Junko and Mukuro joining in to help setup equipment was also really cute . . . i feel like i shouldn’t be calling segments from a torture scene cute. Hm. Well anyway, I can say that while I appreciate its existence, I’m also glad Kayleen chose not to drag it out for too long. Ironic coming from the most excessive bitch around here, but it probably would have been a bit much if it took up the grander majority of this chapter.

Which means we say goodbye to Mukuro and return to our regularly scheduled Junko and Mikan moments. 

And yeah what do you want me to fucking say, it’s amazing? Because it’s amazing as fuck, yeah. I’m running out of ways to just say how fuckin much i love this, but i’ll persevere best I can. 

I mentioned way earlier that I love it when Mikan catches Junko by surprise, and we get more of that here. Though in this instance I think it’s better to describe that this is the first time Mikan just gets the upper hand on Junko, who’s struggling to fight back in the conversation because she’s already struggling to figure out her feelings. And it’s really lovely to see Mikan fighting past Junko’s own insecurities, especially when she regards herself as a bad girlfriend. It’s great, and it’s more of that role reversal I love. 

The book analogy near the end of this conversation is so good, it’s sappy as fuck but that’s why it’s good. And Junko leaning into it despite how lame it is makes it all the better, and I only noticed on this recent reread that there’s even a cheeky V3 reference as well, clever!~ 

The kiss is of course great, and I think i’ve just fully fucking run out of ways to talk about how much I love Junko and Mikan kisses in these stories. Thank god there isn’t one in tomorrows fic- getting ahead of myself. 

Rip to Scissorhands, thanks for the gay but you will not be missed.

God damn amazing fic, so well written. It’s one where I have to be in a very specific mindset in order to read it, as that middle chapter really does stress me out enough to be a bit of a roadblock. But admittedly this most recent reread wasn’t the worst compared to the previous few times. That said the fic definitely had it’s effect on me like usual, my body felt all kinds of wild ways, my heartbeat was a lot more intense, breathing a bit wacked out, my nerves up. The whole shebang, so good fucking writing. Equally bittersweet considering that, at least I assume, the normal events of DR are going to follow this story, even if not immediately. So Mukuro’s gonna die, Junko’s gonna die, and then Mikan’s going to have her brain undespaired and probably lose all her feelings towards Junko (Though I will admit, the idea of Mikan after the actual events of canon still having feelings for Junko while not being a remnant is pretty interesting). 

However, I can live with that. It’s still an amazing story even with main canon in consideration, and I think I’ve run out of things to say here. 

Tomorrow is the last fic based art in the event, Days 99 and 100 are all on me. And by process of elimination you probably have an idea of what Day 98 is, you may even know the exact fic. 

I said there were three fics that were vital to me reaching this point in my life, being this obsessed with Junkan as a ship.

The Third Fic, Everything You’ve Ever Dreamed, is the fic that sent me spiraling into brainrot to the point of snapping and drawing art of it behind closed doors, eventually snapping me into drawing more Junkan than I imagine most if not anybody ever has.

The Second Fic, Smile, is what got me obsessed with the ship in the first place, of course only enough to enjoy reading it in secret, which would lead me to EYED.

All that’s left is The First Fic, which you’ll see tomorrow. The fic that made me bother to even give this ship a chance in the first place. Hilariously, I will probably not yap about it nearly as much as the previous two, even if I love it. 

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

[onestepbackwards]

Love That Bites Pt. 15

It's here!!! Finally, I am able to finish it! This chapter is a lil messy, I'll admit, and ended up twice as long as intended, but I'm hoping it'll be a good set up for the next chapter, which will feature a lot more Dracula :3 I am posting this a bit sleep deprived, so I apologize if it has several mistakes ;w;

Thank you for waiting, and I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Turns out going home had consequences worse than you had anticipated. With time ticking by, and tensions beginning to boil with your step family, you decide to make several impulsive decisions in hopes of working on your deal with Dracula, or at least having something to show for it. Of course, nothing can go right, especially with Death tailing you, now can it?

CW: Physical and verbal abuse mentioned (You are mostly fine, no worries), extreme anxiety and second thoughts, slight face injury (just a bruise), impulsive shopping, mental rambling and overthinking, Death makes an appearance

Word Count: 6575 words!

Tag List: @just-some-water-lillies @blackmeetsworld @khaleesihavilliard @sisterofsin29 @str4wban3l @nikkilovemark @ms-bakugo-blog @kittenlover614 @simpytheshrimpy69 @midgetdemon17 @just-nother-dreamer @adrakeshoard @tilldeathripsusapart @thedeadlynights @pumpkinvampie @bethleeham @mshope16 @sixsixtwenty @haleypearce @rvautomatic @tinystarfishgalaxy @marshmelloe @maorizon @ursamajor17 @sapphicsfordracula @dame-sunflowers @sleepyendymion @starrlo0ver @onewiththebeanbag

If you want to be added, or if I missed someone, please let me know! Likes, reblogs, tags and comments are appreciate 💕

First: Here

Last: Here

Next: ?

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Looking in the mirror shouldn’t have been as harrowing as it felt at the moment.

If you were being honest with yourself, you could care less about appearances. You liked looking nice and all, but you didn’t always have the luxury of looking nice on a hunt when it involved… monster remains ending up splattered all over you.

That… and as you were growing older, you looked a lot more like your mother.

Not just in looks, but…

You hated how your eyes looked so sunken in. How there was an unnatural paleness to you. Like you were ill.

It certainly made you feel sick. You hated being reminded how your mother looked that last year before she passed.

Of course, it didn’t help that you had a massive bruise on your left cheek. Or how you haven’t had a good night’s sleep in… what, weeks? More so than normal anyway.

That, and you genuinely haven’t felt well since you came back home around 3 weeks ago.

“Ugh….” You groaned out, leaning closer to the mirror as your head throbbed.

At least you weren’t beaten bloody and bruised like you had been before… everything.

It had nearly been a month since you returned. As much as you would have liked to believe things would have gotten better after coming back home, that was nothing more than a pipe dream.

“Just who do you think you are, huh? Who the hell lets you stay here? Do you think it’s funny to pull that kinda shit? Huh?”

Jason hadn’t been happy at your return. Though you had a feeling he was more mad about you staying away and still being alive.

“Fucking look at me when I’m talking to you, you dense fuck. I let you stay here out of the goodness of my heart, and you not only attack us, but pull a disappearing act?”

Eyes narrowing at yourself in the mirror, your reflection scowled with you as you remembered parts of Jason’s explosive reaction to you coming home that day.

Your step brothers and step father had been doing something involving recon for a mission of some sort. So they said, anyway. Not that they gave you much of an explanation anytime they left anywhere, unless it was somewhere fun.

Then they were more than happy to brag about going somewhere, and you weren’t invited.

Regardless, you didn’t hear much about where they were, but you got to hear all about how bad of a person you were for leaving like that. For having the gall to defend yourself.

The reflection of you in the mirror scowled even further, before wincing when you felt a twinge of pain from the bruise on your face.

Annoyance flickered on your features.

After you came home and were discovered by your family, the ‘scolding’ had certainly been one of the worst, but you would argue that wasn’t the worst part of coming back.

”I’ll have you know I could kick you out at any time. You are nothing but a freak. A parasite. At least your mother was worth something compared to you. All you do is sit around and do nothing, wasting our time and resources!”

Jason and your brothers had never been physically violent before. At least, not outside ‘training’, anyway.

Sure, there was the occasional shove, and a shoulder check here and there. Maybe a loose foot finding its way in front of your own…

Jason was practically in your face as he yelled, your back pressed against the wall as he practically cornered you.

“All you do is sit on your ass and run off to god knows where after throwing a fit. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t toss your shit into the streets right now!?”

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, he interrupted you.

“Shut up!”

Your eyes widened as a fist came at you-

…Only for your body to tense with one of your hands in front of your face as his fist landed a few inches from your head, now in a huge hole in the wall next to where you stood. No doubt you would be fixing that later.

Jason’s face was right next to yours, his eyes dark with a hatred that had your body tense, and your hair stand on end.

“Get out of my sight.”

Ever since that first night back, Jason had gotten scarily close to genuinely hurting you. He, and his oldest son, Mark, had grown increasingly aggressive.

It frightened you. Never had they seemed so irritated.

That was saying a lot, if you were being honest with yourself.

Sure, you feared what they could do to you, to your home. It was a small fear, one you kept a tight lock on. You hadn’t really felt scared of them. Not before they tried to lethally injure you.

Now you felt like a cornered animal half the time, just waiting for the other shoe to drop. It felt like it was only a matter of time before things escalated. If something happened to you… You didn’t like to think what would happen afterwards.

The look in their eyes… You couldn’t help but compare it to a monster who was out for blood. A pure hate that made you feel ill just looking at them.

And with their aggression growing… it was looking more and more likely you faced something terrible happening with each passing day.

Not even a week had passed after Jason’s episode before you were shoved down the stairs. You thankfully had caught yourself, but instead of an empty hall at the top of the stairs like you expected, Mark stood watching.

His eyes were just as cold as his father’s. That same, piercing hate deep in his eyes.

“No one wants you here.” Was all he said, before he turned around and left, leaving you awkwardly hanging onto one of the rails.

Since then, Jason and Mark had made a point to let their displeasure known. You were either tossed around, or forced to do extra dirty work around the house. Jason made a point to tell you that he expected ‘more’ from you from now on.

Ignoring the fact you already did most of the house work anyway. Fucker.

Now they both made messes on purpose. Well, more ‘on purpose’ than before.

Kitchen? A wreck almost every night.

Living room? You were now picking up their disgusting clothes and messes.

Entry way? You were cleaning mud that was tracked in every other day. It wasn’t even muddy out front, so you knew they were doing this on purpose elsewhere to piss you off.

At least Seth kept his distance. He wasn’t pleasant, but he at least seemed to dislike outright trying to hurt you more than a shoulder check. If anything, he just told you to clean something or go shopping at inconvenient times.

Maybe toss something on the floor for you to clean up, but even he seemed to find that more bothersome than it was worth.

It still wasn’t great, but it only added to your ever growing stress.

“Things could be worse… I guess.” You mumbled, exhaustion clear on your features as your frown fell back to your neutral look.

You could have Dracula trying to kill you, along with everything else. No doubt that would have possibly either broke you, or had made everything worse. Your face scrunched up at the thought.

Though you winced once again, the bruise near your eye throbbing at the movement.

Jason and the others may not have outright been hitting you with their fists since you got back, but…

Letting out a gasp of surprise at the sudden sharp pain, you felt your body slam into the wall next to you as your body swung back in surprise.

“Oh sorry, did that hurt?” Mark mocked, throwing the bag he had ‘accidentally’ hit you with over his shoulder.

Motherfucker had waited around a corner just to swing a bag of junk at your head. You were lucky it didn’t directly hit your eyes, but…

You could feel your anger bubbling in your chest, and you sighed. At least you still had your sight, even if you worried the cheekbone had been damaged.

Whatever.

Turning the faucet on, you splashed some water on your face, waking you up a little bit as you trekked back to your room

Truth be told, it wasn’t just your step family causing you issues.

You had been spending what free time and energy you had on working on your deal with Dracula.

Something that still was weird to think about.

Entering your room and closing the door behind you with a soft ‘click’, you went over to your desk and sat down. Reaching down to the floor, you pulled out a specific notebook you had hidden under a bunch of random clothes and junk, and opened it.

Inside the notebook was what would be a bunch of gibberish, but was simply a cypher.

You didn’t dare write anything about Dracula somewhere where your step family could find it and read it. A phone was hackable, and just leaving a notebook around without precautions was begging for fate to mess with you and make things worse.

Flipping through the pages, you found your simple ‘To-Do List’.

It was messy, but when you came back home a near wreck, it was as good a place as any to start.

There were several different things written down, such as buying him a modern cell phone. Or building him a computer. Or even showing him some modern libraries.

You hoped he would at least be impressed by the internet, and the many archives it included. Though you were a bit nervous about the internet as well, not really wanting him to see how depraved humanity could be, where it was right out in the open.

Then again… the internet had a front row view on the good things humanity has done too. That, and it’s not like Dracula was unaware of how awful people could be, human or otherwise.

Perhaps you would only show him the internet archive or something. And how to pirate movies and books.

Movies and television were a whole different ball game as well on what to show him. You wondered if he’d like The Addams Family, or The Godfather. Or Psych, or Columbo or something.

Shaking your head, you wrote down a few suggestions to show him later. After you managed to figure out if you could even get internet working at his castle, of course.

You’d have to make a few calls to some people who knew how to keep their mouths shut, no doubt.

Even then, he may not even want it. That was something you had to consider.

“Though, perhaps…” you mumbled out loud as a thought entered your mind.

Perhaps you could just show him all that stuff at your cabin? Test the waters?

A part of you nearly snarled at the idea of anyone finding your humble sanctuary, let alone being allowed in it that wasn’t your late mother.

But you had way more at stake here. You had a deal to hold your end up on. Surely, your little abode was worth the entirety of humanity?

…You would consider it.

Then there was the fact you would probably have to get a phone or internet plan for Dracula.

Good god you had a lot on your plate.

That isn’t even mentioning the calls you had been attempting to make for blood banks for supernatural entities. With how busy they tended to be though, you ended up on hold nearly every attempt you made. No doubt you would have to send some emails and make an in person visit.

Great.

Staring at the list for another few moments, you sighed, putting the book down and putting your head in your hands.

“Fuck, how am I going to do this?”

The hope of the world was quite literally on your shoulders, all depending on your actions going forward. Yet, you had little to nothing to go forward with.

Not like you could just order a phone or computer parts. Even if it was illegal, your mail and packages ended up getting opened more often than not before you had a chance to even see them.

Jason would always smugly remark it was for ‘the family’s safety’, in case someone was trying to ‘get rid of the family.’

That was a load of shit, of course.

You knew it, Jason knew it, Mark and Seth knew it.

But there was nothing you could do. Even if you had a legal case of them fucking with your mail, if you made a fuss, you simply would get kicked out and lose your family home.

At least they stopped messing with your packages half of the time when you bought adult toys to embarrass them out of spite.

That was the first time they ever left you alone for a month. Definitely some of the most peaceful weeks of your life.

Anyway-

Rubbing your face, you gave your cheeks a small slap to wake yourself up, and sat back up in your chair.

Picking the book back up, you looked over it all once again, before adjusting some of your notes.

You would have to go buy a lot of this stuff in person yourself, and hide it in your car. Buying a new phone and computer parts would only make your step family incredibly suspicious.

Or annoying.

In fact, if you did manage to spin a perfect lie to get them off your back, you wouldn’t be surprised if your parts either went ‘missing’, or ended up ‘accidentally’ damaged.

Or someone in the family suspiciously gets a new PC while the parts you bought are missing.

Even though you had money in your own bank account, it wasn’t like you were rich. You had expected a lot of your family’s money to go to you before… well…

Not that it mattered.

You still had a means of making money from odd jobs and the hunts you were allowed to do before your step family called dibs, or when they didn’t want to do the icky jobs.

It just… wasn’t as much as you would like. But hey, you didn’t have the luxury of lamenting your expenses now. Lives were potentially at stake if you didn’t do this.

“So much for buying some new clothes… guess I’ll have to patch up some of my torn ones with some older clothe if I can…”

Oh well.

Another thing that was an issue was time.

You had more or less been on lockdown since coming back. Sure, you had a job or two for some minor stuff, but then you were stuck right back here.

With Jason and Mark, and Seth to a degree, being a lot more aggressive… You’ve hardly had a chance to even leave the house for something as small as grocery shopping without Jason getting on your ass about it.

He must have been serious when he got angry at you for disappearing. You still didn’t understand why, given how they talk about wanting you gone so much. Maybe they just hated the fact you would eventually come back.

Bah.

Scratching your head, you let out another sigh.

You were running out of time.

Dracula may have been patient so far, at least you hoped. However, that didn’t mean he would wait forever, especially when you mentioned a month as the time it may take to return.

Around a week remained, and the clock was ticking. Time was not on your side.

Neither was anything else, but if anything, you knew how to adapt under pressure.

“Okay… Everyone is out today. I can at least get a phone. Maybe even a few parts for a computer…”

There were a few places in town for parts. You had at least done research on places where you could buy these things earlier this month in a manic episode.

After that, you had to figure out a time to leave again for a few days. No doubt you’d get shit for it, but hey, at least you weren’t actively bleeding this time.

“I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.” You mumbled to yourself, running a hand over your eyes with a groan. Even if you felt like you were a bag full of anxiety, you could at least try to hype yourself up.

With a deep breath, you closed the journal, and hid it once more.

Steeling your resolve, you stood up and grabbed your car keys, before heading out your bedroom door.

Leaving your home wasn’t hard, but it still sent some anxiety spiking through your heart as you locked the door behind you. Nor was driving down to town any less harrowing.

However, driving up to the giant building of a tech store at least put you at ease. As much as you hated crowds, it was somewhat relieving here.

If you by some rare chance saw your family or someone you knew, you’d at least have a crowd. You were less likely to be treated poorly in front of people who your family tried so dearly to put a mask on for.

Of course, you still were on edge. It was hard not to be in general outside of your cabin or family home. Your whip felt heavy under your jacket as you parked and walked through the building, both a reassurance, and a weight that had your hands twitching.

Crowds may be good in some ways, but for monsters, both man and supernatural, it was an opportunity.

You just hope no one would seek such an opportunity today.

Pushing through the turbulent emotions stirring inside you, you quickly made your way to the center of the store.

It wasn’t hard to buy a phone, though you did have a few things to consider.

Size, model, and brand.

The decision wasn’t difficult in the long run, but the image of Dracula with glasses and a teeny phone in his massive hands made a smile form on your face.

With the new phone in a bag to take home for later, you continued shopping. At least getting a phone was the easy part. You could buy a temporary cheap plan and number for it in store at checkout.

Somehow Dracula’s castle had cell service, if you remembered correctly. If the phone plan didn’t work out, you could at least show him some things, right?

It was enough to tide you over until you could make some calls about giving Dracula of all people an actual decent phone plan without all the strings of an identity in modern society. That was something that actually wouldn’t be too difficult. You hoped.

Regardless, it was computer parts that had you dreading being here.

There were different parts and different brands to consider, and in the end, Dracula might not even care about it.

You at least hoped he would like the parts to look at if he was uninterested in having a computer. At the end of the day, you could just use your laptop to show him things if need be.

At the very least, you knew Dracula liked to make things, if your family’s old journals were anything to go by. You liked to think he’d like to tinker with the parts for his own gain.

“What a headache… Could be wasting time and money for nothing…”

Maybe you should only grab a few things? And then if he isn’t interested, you could just give the parts to him to study?

You shook your head to yourself as you entered an aisle with a few of the parts you needed behind a wall of glass, and eyed your options.

Perhaps you should start with a cpu? Or perhaps some memory? Or rather-

“You sure like to take your time, Belmont.”

In an instant, the temperature of the building dropped severely, and you felt your hair stand on end.

Faster than a human could blink, you had your whip in your hand, and faced your adversary-

Only to freeze when you saw Death hovering next to you, uncomfortably close.

You blinked, and hesitantly lowered your whip.

“Um… hi?”

The skeletal cloaked figure tilted its head, its boney fingers thrumming on the handle of its scythe. All the while, your head was swimming as you tried not to panic.

Dracula may have been your family’s primary enemy, but Death, the entity, was never far behind.

“Hmm… You are certainly different from most of your kin before you.”

You decided to take that as a compliment.

Forcing your anxiety back down your throat, you managed to speak once more.

“Um… No offense, but why are you here? Is everything alright?” You asked hesitantly, yet tried to remain polite. Hold back any fear and aggression. You could do this.

Death was severely hated in your family, if a few journals were anything to go by. It wouldn’t hurt to remain courteous. At least you hoped.

You no longer were in Dracula’s castle, after all. Who’s to say Death might try and find a loophole and kill you here outside your family home and his master’s abode? Be done with this stupid peace treaty of sorts you had convinced the Lord of Darkness to try out?

Even then, you imagine he could probably get away with it, being Dracula’s second in command. In Death’s eyes, in the end, would it really be so bad if the Belmont dies? Get you out of the way?

It was Death after all. Even if the entity was punished, what was Dracula gonna do? Kill him?

You tried not to let those thoughts fester as the cold, blue fires in Death’s eye sockets bore into you.

It took a lot not to shudder in fear.

Death though, seemed not to notice, or care if you felt intimidated or not.

“I am here to see if you intend to return to my master, or if you are simply hiding away like a dog with its tail between its legs.”

That last bit alone caused you to scowl, and you had to stomp down the irritation that threatened to bubble in your gut.

“First of all, rude. Second of all, yes, I do intend to return. That's why I am out today, actually.”

You gestured with a nod of your head to the locked display that was in front of you, and Death’s ghostly eyes followed.

“I figured as a gift of good will, I could get some modern stuff for him here. I know you probably have a distaste for humans, but I can promise you and Dracula himself that the technological advancements made by them in today’s modern age may come across as intriguing.”

Wincing a bit at how that sounded, you rubbed your neck and ignored the twinge of pain.

“Not to sound vain about it, of course. Humanity has really flourished the past century or so with all sorts of advancements. Not just technology. I figured your Master would be interested, at least in a few areas to see if humanity’s advancements have reached his own.”

Death let out what you assumed was a hum, and just as you were about to turn and ask what the deity thought, a voice nearly had you jumping out of your boots.

“Hi there, can I help you?”

Spinning around, you nearly relaxed when you saw it was someone who worked here, though you quickly stammered.

“O-Oh, I uh-”

You spun around, panic running through your veins. You did not need regular people freaking out over Death itself being in a tech store-

Only to find no one there. Death was gone.

The room seemed to warm up again, almost to the point it was uncomfortably hot. Had Death’s presence really sapped that much heat from you and everything around you?

Swallowing your nerves, you spun back around to speak to the person who asked if you needed help. It wasn’t hard to put a mask back in place on your face, though you swore your heart never stopped hammering in your chest as you pointed out a few items you were considering.

That, and you tried to ignore how the employee eyed you, almost concerned.

Right. Bruise on your face. Skittish reactions. Great.

At least they seemed happy to unlock the glass display for you, asking you something about if you were building a computer. You could only mumble a response with a shaky smile, throwing out some explanation or another.

In truth, you could barely think as they brought the few items you had pointed to towards a register. How could you act at ease, knowing Death could quite literally be around any corner, watching you?

Could you even go home? It’s not like it would be hard to find your place of residence in this day and age, but you wondered if Death knew how to do so by regular means.

Which made the idea of going home and being followed… nerve wracking.

Sure, your place was warded to hell and back with ancient spells and hunting artifacts so no evil could step foot on your property, but…

That didn’t mean you were safe the moment you took a step outside, and you didn’t exactly like the idea of being shot at by a gun or a bow or something while taking out the trash, thank you very much.

Even then… were you comfortable with Dracula even knowing your home address in general?

You were in a fog of your own thoughts as you paid for the equipment you bought, only briefly being brought out of it when you noticed the price after everything was scanned.

No doubt you’d be feeling the loss of money in your bank account later. Ouch.

Thankfully, it was also easy to get a quick plan for the phone you bought as well, along with a phone number. Nothing fancy or long lasting, of course. No need to if Dracula was uninterested, or if was genuinely interested to the point of needing a decent one.

As the nice employee set it up, a part of you hoped this would help you and Dracula have a means of communication.

After all, you doubted the post office would deliver a letter to a giant castle in the middle of fuck all nowhere.

When they handed you the phone and receipt, you gave the employee a tired smile, before gathering your things and walking out the door.

The whole way to your car, you were looking back behind you, still wary of being watched. You hated this.

It was one thing to be followed by some asshole or a monster with a bone to pick, but Death itself?

Hopefully you wouldn’t be laughed at if you puked from how nervous you were.

After setting your stuff in your car and climbing in behind the wheel, you sat there for a moment as your engine roared to life.

It seems despite your warning that you’d need a month, it seems at three weeks you didn’t have any time left to spare if Death was making in person inquiries.

Gripping the steering wheel, you glanced up at the rearview mirror, and your neck cracked from how fast you turned to look back at it after looking away.

In it was Death, floating ominously, near empty eye sockets looking at you from behind your vehicle.

You turned around quickly, and no one was there.

Eyes narrowing, you looked back, and nothing was in your back seat. Nothing behind your car. Nothing in the area besides you.

“Oh, very funny. Didn’t you ever learn not to scare a hunter? Especially one who can actually cause harm? Not everyone’s fight or flight is flight you know.” You snarked out under your breath.

A part of you wondered if Death found this hilarious or not, scaring you. Did the being not have a care about scaring someone who could actually kill them?

Then again… if you were ‘alive’ for thousands of years, you wondered if you too would stop giving a shit and started doing dumb stuff like that for fun.

That, or Death was purposely trying to push your buttons so he could have an excuse to tattle to Dracula you ‘attacked first’. You hoped that wasn’t the case.

Shaking your head, you looked around your car one last time, hoping you weren’t going crazy, before focusing on heading home.

You’d give Death some credit, at least.

Scaring you like that helped jump start something in your brain where you no longer felt frozen in place. Even if Death damn near gave you a heart attack in the process.

The drive home was uneventful, but you felt as if your heart rate never truly rested after your mini adventure out shopping.

How could it? How on earth do you handle such circumstances? It was like trying to swallow claws as your anxiety tried climbing its way up your throat.

“You know, I can’t help but feel my life would be a lot simpler if I was born in a different family…” you mumbled, face scrunching up.

Maybe you’d be bumbling around in college by now, meeting some guy or girl who caught your fancy. Worrying about exams and dates, not whether or not offending one man could kill you and the entirety of the human race.

Whatever. No point mourning something you never had, right?

Your thoughts were a messy buzz as you pulled up onto your property, though it probably could be seen as humorous how quickly those thoughts came to a stop.

Slumping into your seat, you felt a new kind of anxiety and irritation bubble up in your chest.

“Oh, you are fucking kidding me.” You groaned out, spotting familiar vehicles in the driveway up to your house.

Why were they back so soon? Why?

At this point, your luck was a sick joke, you think. That, or just your life in general.

It looked as if everyone was back home, earlier than they should be, you might add.

Internally, you debated your options.

One, you could go in and get yelled at for disappearing without ‘a good reason’, eventually having to give some excuse as to why you were gone.

Or two…

Your pulse picked up as you thought about it. You weren’t exactly planning on leaving for Dracula’s castle today… But…

Strumming your fingers against your steering wheel, you bit your lip as you weighed the pros and cons.

On one hand, going today might get Death off your back. Though you hoped that at least seeing you shopping might have helped.

On the other hand…

You’d have to meet Dracula again, for the first time after being so injured… And no doubt you’d later have to deal with Jason and the others getting pissed at you again.

Then again… that was just normal at this point, just extra aggression. Maybe you should get out for a bit?

After all… You hated to admit how you were growing concerned with how more… open they were getting with their ‘grievances’. How long would it be before you were one wrong fall down the stairs, or turning a corner too quick?

Your face throbbed at the memory. The bruise on your face was just from a bag of junk. How long until it was a convenient bag of bricks being tossed instead?

Plus… You needed a break, you just worried about the repercussions. But…

You were tired. So so so tired.

There was an exhaustion that was deep in your bones.

Your head constantly ached, even more so after the bruise. You were always exhausted like you were on hunts often, no doubt from your lack of sleep.

And you constantly felt off while here, which you chalked up to always being on edge.

No doubt having to watch your back like prey in your own home for weeks on end was taking its toll with how you were constantly bouncing between feeling exhaustion and feeling sick.

You may be a Belmont, but the human body could only take so much stress before it began shutting down. Even you had your limits.

“Am I actually considering this…?” you mumbled, your brain in a fog as you tried to come to a decision.

It wasn’t like you didn’t have anything at the cabin, either… You had a few clothes there, and some non-perishable food….

With a groan, you put your head in your hands, and ran them down your face. You winced as your face ached at the action.

It was then like a switch was flipped, feeling the bruise again. You didn’t feel like dealing with this shit, and possibly having another incident while already injured.

At least… Dracula wouldn’t attack you. Hopefully. You could heal. Maybe.

Not that you expected him to take care of you while you were there. You could do that yourself.

…It just would be nice to be in a place where you could.

Hah… How many times was it going to be a shock for you each time Dracula, your family’s enemy, was the safer option?

With a sigh, you cracked your neck, and steeled yourself.

Looks like it was time to pay Dracula another visit.

—

The drive wasn’t as long as you expected.

Perhaps it was the good music that happened to be playing, or maybe it was your nerves. Who’s to say.

Pulling into the small dirt road leading up to your small cabin though had you rightfully nervous.

Was it safe? Did any monsters wander from Dracula’s castle and ransack your home?

Eyes naturally narrowing in suspicion as your vehicle came to a stop, you couldn’t help but start to think about it.

Technically speaking… You never said Dracula or his minions couldn’t destroy shit. Just to leave humans alone, for the most part. At least, what your working ‘treaty’ was. Perhaps you should discuss and iron out the details while you were here…

Should you have made a contract? Did supernatural beings such as Dracula even have to honor those?

Not like you could hire a lawyer to draft a contract for Dracula anyways… Not enough ones in the supernatural communities, let alone one that would involve themselves with Dracula without fearing for their lives.

No doubt there would be a few conflicts of interest, and you couldn’t just hire a human one anyway…

Blinking, you shook your head, before doing a quick glance over your property.

“C’mon… Don’t get distracted now.” You mumbled, climbing out of your car.

You did a quick look over the immediate property around the cabin, checking to see if anything had changed.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Even the inside of your small sanctuary had remained seemingly untouched.

Was it a miracle, or had Dracula purposely mentioned not to have this place harmed?

Or maybe he didn’t say anything at all? Did he even know this place existed, besides what you had mentioned? Did he keep his mouth shut to avoid anyone going looking to begin with?

After all, you had mentioned having property nearby, right? You couldn’t exactly remember…

Question after question filtered through your mind, and you groaned. You’d get nowhere if you just sat here and made guesses.

The only way to get answers and move forward, would be to actually visit the vampire.

So why did you want to put it off now?

Your nerves were like electricity in your gut, and you could only wring your hands together as you stood stuck in the small living room. It was almost like you were paralyzed, unable to do anything besides take a few steps here or there while your brain went haywire.

It wasn’t like you could go back. Jason would give you too much shit for it, and Mark and Seth would follow his lead.

Jason was a ticking time bomb at this point, you feared. You could defend yourself and all, but at what point was it too much?

With a groan, you ran a hand through your hair.

“God… I feel like a deer in headlights…”

Taking a breath, you tried to calm yourself down. Why was this so hard? Just go to the castle, and talk with him, and offer some of the stuff you had. At least you could offer the phone and bring the computer stuff later…

After a few more moments of heavy debate inside your mind, you came to a decision, before swiftly turning around and heading to the bedroom.

You’d… visit Dracula tomorrow.

Was it an excuse to wait? Yes.

However, you figured you’d be in a much better mindset after getting some rest after being away from your family home. You just hoped Dracula wouldn’t mind waiting one more day, even if you technically hadn’t even hit the deadline you set yet…

You could rest, eat, shower, and mentally prepare yourself the next day. Maybe you would look less pathetic for Dracula at least, compared to last time, and how you currently felt.

Although, you’d admit, you were a bit uneasy sleeping so close to the castle.

It was silly, really. You literally had slept inside said castle. By all means, you were in the snake pit while critically injured. Yet…

You felt safer there than here. Something you never thought you would ever think about your little sanctuary.

Here, you didn’t have Dracula’s direct protection.

Just how easy would it be for something to attack you if a monster sensed you? All it took was one disgruntled monster to figure out you were here…

By all means, it could even be spun that it wasn’t even one of Dracula’s minions, since it would be outside his castle. It was a grey area if the monsters outside the castle walls were under his direct control, you felt.

It wasn’t even your own safety you were mostly worried about.

Was it selfish or odd to be more worried about the cabin and the land? It was one of the last things you had of your mom untainted…

Well, if anything else, you’d destroy anything that tried to destroy this place.

That was your thought as you climbed in bed that night, trying to ease your nerves for tomorrow.

…Which is why when several flashes of lightning and thunder happened one right after the other, you nearly fell out of your bed.

Rain began to pelt your window hard, and the wind picked up a bit. You could even hear the trees shake outside from the weather as some branches brushed against your cabin’s roof.

“Was that from…?”

Dracula’s castle wasn’t far, not at all. A small walk away around a lake. It sounded as if everything was coming from the direction of his castle.

After a moment of listening to some more rolling thunder, you decided to close your curtains, and try to relax to the sound of the storm. If what you suspected was true, and Dracula was annoyed or upset… you didn’t exactly want to intrude and possibly worsen his mood.

As you warily drifted off to sleep, you couldn’t help but wonder just what had made Dracula so upset.

[solar4seekstron]

New Recruit

TFRescue Bots!Heatwave x Cybertronian!Femme!Reader

Content: 16+, Heatwave is a bbg in this because he’s my bbg <3

TW/Tags: Reader is adorable, mention of gender transition, couple characters ate homophobes, heatwave and reader are being school crushes to each other. Better love story then i did lol

Notes: We all know Hightide and Optimus are good friends so Heatwave is pretty young. At least in here if I’m wrong. So how cool and interesting would it be if reader was Hightides daughter but she chose to be neutral and just visited the Rescue Bots to check up on them. But ends up falling in love? Hehe. Reader is a couple inches shorter then Heatwave.

It was like any other day for the Burns. The Rescue Bots doing their usual job while Heatwave decided to one day go out on his own.

The city already knew about him and the others being alien robots.

So driving around and people waving at him when they passed by was still something he was getting used to.

So imagine his surprise when he sees a femme but.

A femme bot who had no insignia of Autobot or Decepticon. A bright smile on her dermas while giggling at what a lady with her child was saying.

Yes, he was staring at you with an open intake out of mostly shock and surprise.

You had a few good scratches in your frame. You had a long sword in the holder on your hip. Your frame is bulky but also slim at the same time.

He can tell you’re both strong and fast. Your colors a bright red mixed with green. Somehow making it work.

He stared at you from behind one of the large buildings. It was a good distance since you were at the beach.

A bright smile on your dermas even when you waved goodbye to the woman and her child.

You pulled your mouthguard and visors back on. Which made you look a little intimidating. You start to walk towards the city.

Heatwave got fully behind the building. Feeling his spark race a little.

He then looked down when he noticed a couple staring up at him. The man with his husband then chuckles before speaking.

“Don’t worry. I got scared and nervous too when I saw my first love.” The man said turning to his husband at the last word.

The husband smiling. He too speaking. “You got this buddy.”

The couple then walked away. Heatwave just watched them walk away while remaining still. He then looks forward with wide optics while his mind races.

Both were unsure of what the two meant while at the same time understanding what they meant. He got a bit lost in his helm until someone poked his cheek gently.

“Hello?” You asked casually.

Making him flinch and back up with his arms and cervos up ready to fight.

You then put your cervo to your chin. Your other cervo was on your hip while your mask and visors remained on.

S smirk of course under your mask. Heatwave then since stood a bit straighter before soon gathering himself together. Placing his cervos on his hips nervously as he cleared his throat before speaking.

Only for you to beat him to it.

”You must be the one called Heatwave. Correct? Name’s Y/N. You might’ve met my Sire Hightide already?”

You said casually. Heatwave was taken aback a little. “Uhh.”

He looked you up and down. You’re his sparkling?? He thought to himself.

You let out a soft chuckle that caught his attention once more. “My Carrier always had a taste for “larger bots” if you know what I mean?”

You continued. Before looking around then back at him.

Heatwave just blinked. You tilted your helm. “So, was I correct. Heatwave?” You were about to poke his cheek again until his cervo held your wrist.

Catching you by surprise a bit.

He cleared his throat once more before finally speaking. “Yes, I am Heatwave. And if you are Hightides er- sparkling.

How come you two look nothing alike? Besides optic colors.

He kept holding your wrist while you just stared at him. You let out another chuckle. “Well, you see heatwave.” You politely pulled your wrist away.

”It’s called a transition.” You started to walk towards the base. Already know thanks to Optimus. Heatwave realized this and started following you. Standing in front of you up to when you finished talking.

”I was once a big and bad mech just like my sire. But primus was it tiresome to just be that. It never felt right anyway. So changed up to what made me more comfortable and do what I do. Which is fight when I need to and travel to where ever boss bot needs me to go.”

Heatwave spoke. “So that’s why you….oh. I- I’m sorry I-“ You interrupted.

”Now what are you sorry about? I’d say my new look is pretty great. Wouldn’t you say?”

You said the last sentence while both your visors and mouthguard came off.

You looking at him with soft optics. Heatwave felt himself almost blush. Before turning his helm away and his cervo covering his face as he spoke. “N-nothing. Is there a reason you’re here? Like actual? I-I mean uh.”

“As usual when Prime is too busy, he’ll send a bot to come help out the Rescue bots whenever he can. Which I’m sure is a constant thing for you and the others.”

You said in a bit more of a serious tone. Heatwave responded.

“Yeah, so you just visiting or will…?” You let out a soft chuckle. Giving him a warmer smile.

“Like me already hm? We’ll see. I’ll be staying for a few days if that’s alright. Not sure if I’ll see Hightide while I’m here. But we’ll see.”

You said the last part with a bit of discomfort. Heatwave raised an optic ridge before realizing why you said it like that. You noticed and let out a deep chuckle.

“I’m a neutral. Never wished to join whomever. We’ll all end up at one place at the end of one day at some point. Something my sire wasn’t too happy to hear long ago.”

Heatwave just stared at you. Then gets an idea. Slowly he placed a cervo on your shoulder.

A small smile on his dermas. speaking once more.”Well, I’m sure the team will be happy to meet you. Even if it’s the first time.”

This made you feel a little better. You glance down at the ground for a moment before looking back at him.

A small blush appeared on his cheeks. he turned away again and let out a deep chuckle.

“We should start heading to the base now. It will be dark soon.”

You just nodded when he looked back at you.

You both walk over to the base. Getting to know each other along the way. He then helps introduce you to the others.

—————————————————————————

A couple of months have gone by since then. You’d help with missions. You and Blades got along very well. Between then when you met Heatwave.

Chase seemed to like you because you’d watch those comedy shows he likes. And Boulder..

You two were pretty chill.

One day though. While you and Heatwave were hanging out in the base as the others were out for patrol.

Both you and Heatwave sitting on the couch. Having finished speaking to Optimus on the TV earlier about your mission.

You sat casually and more like a typical lady would. Your cervos on your lap while you watched this action movie Cody wanted you both to check out.

Something about two witches becoming friends. The songs were good you’ll admit.

There was some good distance between you both. You kept watching with a smile. Not noticing the glances Heatwave would give to you.

His cervos were originally on his lap before sitting on the couch on his sides.

Your smirk grows a bit wider. Yes, you had a small crush on the guy. And thought why not give this relationship a try. Maybe he likes you back.

Casually, well as best as you can. You placed your cervo a bit close next to his own.

His optics constantly glancing from the TV back to his and your cervo. He tried thinking fast. Maybe starting up a conversation will calm his nerves.

”So uh, what do you think of Griffen rock? Pretty nice to live at.” He turned his helm towards you. You then look at him.

“Yes, I really like it here. Optimus never told me how entertaining it can be when hanging out with the bots. Along with how kind the humans of this planet are.”

You continue to glance at Heatwave. “I might even start calling this my new home. If your bots will have me?”

Heatwave rubbed the back of his helm as a small smile appeared on his dermas.

”We’d….”He hesitated. Looking at your cervo next to his. And so with a deep breath. His cervo went over your own gently. Looking into your optics once more as he said.

“We’d love to have you stay with us.”

You faced him fully. Your smile grew wider as you both just stared at each other, both with smiles on your dermas.

After what felt like minutes was suddenly interrupted by the sound of the alarm.

Causing you both to stand until you both got a call through the comm by blades.

”Sorry for the alarm guys. But uhh we have a Decepticon issue in the city.” You and Heatwave looked at each other. Heatwave then responding. “We’re on our way.!”

You both making it into the city together.

Soon you both see what appears to be a pink decepticon. Wait is that? Oh no. You thought to yourself with an annoyed expression.

Standing there fighting against the others while the humans evacuated was no other Glowstrike.

A femme you weren’t too happy to see. Your visors and a mouth guard soon on. Heatwave glanced at you while his fists were up. He then asked.

“Old pal of yours?”

”Something like that.” You responded. She was able to easily put the others down with causality. That is until she noticed you and Heatwave.

Making her way over. You then spoke, only loud enough for Heatwave to hear.

”Heatwave let me handle her. I’ll be fine but you won’t. She always has a trick up her sleeve.” He glanced at you as he responded. “Y/N what are you talking about? I can’t just leave- “

He’s interrupted by the pink femme.

”My my I’ll admit. Having all these mechs to yourself on this island makes me a bit jealous. Too bad you have them much longer femme.”

Good, she doesn’t recognize you. Heatwave was a bit confused. “Y/N we can take her, I’ve seen you fight before!”

”Y/N?” She looked at you confused. Then recognize your optics. Her expression soon turned angry. “YOU! So this is where you went?! And why do you look like that!?” You just rolled your optics.

”I got a makeover. To look better than you!” You ran throwing in the first punch. She didn’t block it in time. You then yelled telling Heatwave.

“Heatwave call for Bee. Tell him one of his Decepticons got here.” He nodded ding say while you kept Glowstrike down. Luckily her being surprised seeing you caught her off guard.

She started to yell slurs and tried to get out of your grasp. But you had a strong grip like you did before your transition.

Heatwave calls Bee while he puts her in cuffs and this neck cuff to weaken her.

You both waiting for Bee and one of his team members to come get her. You then help the other up. Boulder and Chase heading back to base.

She did hit them pretty hard. Blades shooting to stay so he can see Bee.

As your three wait. Having knocked out Glowstrike. Heatwave started speaking, his voice full with a little bit of concern.

”So..if you don’t mind me asking. How did you and this femme know each other?”

Your visors and mouth guard go back so your face shows. You then spoke to him with your sweet tone as always.

“We were uhh…exs before my transition. She too was into bigger bots..” You giggled nervously. Heatwave just stared at you with a soft smile.

”She… didn't wish to change her ways after the war.” You let out a small sigh. “Pretty much.”

G

You looked away for a moment unsure of what to say. Heatwave's smile went away as he looked away as well. Until he noticed blades with an angry expression at him.

Blades then gestured towards you for Heatwave to do or say something. Being the wingman that he is.

Heatwave took in what the humans said a deep breath. His face shows determination as he turns to face you fully.

“Y-Y/n I know it’s been only a couple of months. But I was w-well wondering if you’d.” He let out a groan. You have turned to face him as well. Your optics connect once more.

”I-I wish to ask if you’d like to.” He’s then interrupted by a booming voice. “Well, well look at who decided to come to my island!”

Hightide yells in a not-so-excited tone. Walking out of the water so casually. You, Heatwave, and Blades looking at Hightide's direction. Heatwave noticed your expression.

You were trying to keep it together as you crossed your arms.

Hightide made his way with his usual frown when he looked at you. Getting close enough once he spoke once more.

”Let me guess, Optimus sent you here to help out the Rescue Bots. Out of all the bots.” You remained silent. Hightide only got more upset. “Still giving the silent treatment. Something a part of your true self as well?-“

”That’s enough Hightide. They’re here to help us out. Is there an actual reason you’re even up here?” He stood fully next to you. You glanced at him a little surprised.

But a small smile soon formed on your dermas while Hightide then spoke.

“Just had to see how much smaller my sparkling decided to make himself. I see as small as his carrier.” His words hurt you. Though you did your best to not show it,

Heatwave only got more and more angry. Talking over Hightide with a more angry tone.

“You don’t speak to her like that! She is a femme and you should respect that!” Hightide was taken aback. “If you have such a problem with her being here with us to help out.

Then take it up with Optimus Prime!”

Hightide was confused. “I never said anything about-“ Heatwave has made his way to stand in front of Hightide. His voice was rougher showing his anger. “Take it. Up. With. Optimus.”

Hightide just stared down at him before looking at you. Then looking back at Heatwave. Letting out a huff after a moment and turns back.

Walking over back to the water without saying another word to you. You watched as Heatwave turned around and walked back to you and Blades.

Blades having a fan moment. That’s when Bee and Strongarm finally arrived to take away Glowstick.

You and Heatwave remain quiet with each other. At first, he thought you were maybe mad at him. But when he glanced at you while Bee and Blades didn’t flirt with each other.

Heatwave noticed a smile on your dermas. You were looking at him before looking back at the others with a smile.

All that’s needed is to tell Heatwave that he did good. The day carried on as it days every day after that. And that there was just a good start to your friendship taking the next step to become even more.

This was going to be a good year for you both.

This is SO fun to write. I can honestly see Heatwave being a little nervous bit and I enjoy that first love at first sight trope, sue me. I hope you guys enjoyed this sorry to Hightide fans for making him a bit of a jerk here. It just fits with the Tory.

Anyway, I hope to see you guys in the next posts, and as always a repost is always appreciated! And hope you guys have a good rest of your day! See you all Tuesday!

[gutsondisplay]

Tldr, acting like the radqueer community is a special type of toxic doesn't work unless you provide multiple special examples of people who do actually harmful things

To make stuff on how to harmful a community is, you NEED

- multiple examples of actual harm

- you need to make sure it wasn't mutual or person problems and actually toxicity

- is the harm specific to the community?

- make sure you know how far reaching that harm is

- you NEED to make sure it isn't a personal problem you are dealing with, you can just not like things

- are you in a mental state to calculate harm?

- how many people are victims vs perpetrators? Is it just the same people?

- is it just icky to you? Check that

- do you understand what you're actually talking about if and when you say this group is harmful

- can you take all of the above and use it to prove to someone else it is harmful within good reasoning

- is there literally ANY context that could explain or lessen the severity of what it looks like

All communities have a bad part, we aren't unique for having a couple people like that too, the problem is that antis cannot check off most of this list without making shit up

A good portion of examples used by antis was during a time where stress and division ramped up in our community CAUSED by antis! Inherently making it nearly impossible to check off the last part

I'll see a couple here and there cases from ex-radqueers or antis who act like they know things who had multiple personal things in the way so they just thought it was at the fault of radqueers

So many people use the fact that they had a psychotic episode, or were delusional, or were personally triggered by topics discussed and such in our circles. And maybe this is mean or whatever, but it is NOT the responsability of an entire community to make sure they do not say or do things that could possibly hurt anyone ever

Tagging things that are more obviously triggering, like self harm, suicide, etc, is a nice thing to do, but most people forget, not just this community

Fuck all if I didn't have to go through the mogai community and see back to back multiple creators posting shit that should have tagged trigger posts, but that's neither here nor there