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ellemj · 3 months

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Off-Limits: Ch. 2

Bucky Barnes x Reader: Mafia AU

Read Ch. 1 here.

Summary: Bucky Barnes took the one thing he couldn't have: you. The only thing is...you didn't even know he'd done it.

Warnings: profanity, possessive!Bucky, mentions of firearms, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: Idk what to say about this chapter so on a more personal note...I had a birthday recently and I'm treating myself by writing more smut, getting pampered, and going to bed on time.

James Bucky Barnes isn’t used to having to ask for what he wants. Negotiating is something he’ll only put a very limited amount of effort into, and when it becomes more trouble than it’s worth, he stops negotiating. That’s why he snapped two nights ago in your father’s home office. Well, he won’t admit it to himself or anyone else, but seeing how pretty you looked on your knees was what really made him snap. The pain of negotiating was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.

You’re definitely worth negotiating for, more so than anything else he’s ever negotiated for in his lifetime. He gave it a try, but hearing your father once again label you as off-limits would be enough to set anyone off. So, as the man sits quite comfortably in his desk chair, studying his own clean yet metaphorically blood-stained hands, he feels justified in his actions. He fired a couple of rounds, pressed the barrel of his gun to your father’s temple, and took what was his. Well, maybe that’s overstating it a bit.

If he’d really taken what was his in the way that he wanted to, he wouldn’t be so on edge right now. He wouldn’t have had to fuck his hand both last night and this morning just to get you off of his mind long enough to make it into his office today. He knows he could’ve avoided feeling like this if he’d just told your father that he was taking you that night, that he had no say in the matter whatsoever. But no, after maiming two of your father’s men, Bucky pressed his gun to your father’s head and a pen into his hand and he proposed a deal that would keep you from resenting him for the rest of your life. Your father signed whatever he needed to in order to spare his own life, even at the expense of sending his only child into the arms of the city’s most feared man.

You’re the last thing Bucky should be focusing on right now. His eyes flit over to the security monitor on his desk, where he sees his expected guests stepping out of a black SUV one by one and coming to stand near the entrance of his currently closed nightclub. It’s going to be another evening of negotiating. Heaving a deep sigh, Bucky shifts his gaze to the bottom right corner of the screen, where he sees his new assistant sitting just outside of his office. His new assistant who, while so attentive and polite at work, looks at him with the vilest disdain every evening when he escorts her out to the car that carries her home. One would think she’d be nothing but grateful for him, having first spared her father’s life and then taken her on as an assistant with no work experience whatsoever. You really should be grateful.

Unless James Bucky Barnes is so far past pissed that he can barely see straight, it’s hard to tell that he’s feeling anything other than relaxed and calm. For the most part, he’s a very level-headed man. He gives people chances, he understands and accepts small mistakes and mishaps as they occur. Even now, as the three men seated in front of his desk bicker on amongst themselves, taking up entirely too much of his time, Bucky looks almost bored. His gaze routinely darts from the faces of the men in front of him, down to the golden crevices of his vibranium hand as he traces them with his flesh index finger, and then to the watch on his right wrist.

3:58 pm.

Two more minutes, he tells himself.

“This is going to keep happening if we don’t post more men at the docks when a shipment is coming in, and if the men who are supposed to be there keep showing up late.” The first red-faced man snaps, unintentionally hurling a light mist of saliva at the man to his right.

“That’s not on me, I don’t know why you’re looking at me when you say that. I’m doing the best I can with the numbers I have, we’ve lost a few good men lately and I can’t do anything about that.” The man on the right retorts, crossing his arms over his chest.

3:59 pm. Bucky’s eyes roam over to the heavy wooden doors that maintain the privacy of his office. He can hear you standing on the other side of it, taking a deep breath and pushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear before wrapping your little hand around the big metal doorknob. God, he can’t help but imagine your little hand wrapping around something else.

The volume of the argument reaches an all-time high just as you’re tugging the heavy door open. It isn’t surprising that the quiet sound of the door sliding open doesn’t break the men out of their tiff, that only Bucky hears it.

As soon as you’ve stepped into the office and realize what you’ve walked into, you freeze by the door. Your eyes dance over the backs of the three men who sit in front of the desk, watching as they engage with each other but none of them turn around to take notice of you. The only person who looks at you is Bucky, with his steely blue eyes and focused gaze. He watches intently as your own focus shifts to him. You’re fully expecting him to tell you to leave, that your presence isn’t needed at the moment, not when something so important is obviously going down. But he doesn’t. Bucky only stares at you, waiting to see if you’ll do your job and approach his desk.

You take small steps toward the desk, toward the angry men that sit between you and your new boss. It isn’t until you’re halfway across the office that the man in the middle hears the sound of your heels clicking against the hardwood floor and he glances over his shoulder at you. The up-and-down look that he gives you sends a nauseating shiver down your spine while simultaneously making Bucky’s trigger finger itch.

“You let bitches walk in here without knocking?” The middle man asks abruptly, effectively silencing the room with the way he’s just addressed Bucky. As is the norm, not a soul in the room can tell that Bucky’s seething on the inside. He keeps his cool, he remains level-headed as he makes eye contact with the burly man. He offers no words in response, and instead simply chooses to tilt his head slightly to the side as if he’s daring the man to say more. “Run along, little girls shouldn’t be privy to a man’s business. This is no place for you.”

The man’s dark eyes are on you again, sizing you up as he waits to see how long it’ll take for you to listen to his bold command. Again, you freeze, unsure of whether to obey the piece of shit who’s just spoken or to obey Bucky’s rules. You’re too check in with him in his office every evening at four to see if he needs anything else before you leave for the night. It’s why you’re here now, in your tight black skirt, tights, heels, and black knitted sweater. It’s why you’re frozen in place, searching his eyes for any clue as to what you should be doing. Bucky says nothing, he doesn’t even so much as raise an eyebrow at you. So, you turn to head right back out the door.

“Sit.” His tone is commanding and authoritative, ten times more so than the flushed, angry man who tried to tell you what to do only a moment ago. When James Bucky Barnes speaks, everyone listens. You turn around slowly, coming to face the desk again, but you don’t take any steps forward to do as you’ve been asked.

Bucky would like for you to do as you’re told after only being told once. Though, he has to remind himself, you’re new to this. He can give you a little grace. If it takes being told twice for you to listen, he can work with that. But if it takes much more than that? He may have underestimated just how much trouble you’d be for him. As you hold his gaze, he fights the urge to speak again. He told you to sit, you should already be sitting. He narrows his eyes at you in one last effort to get through to you without words. That’s what spurs you into action. He watches as your legs carry you forward slowly. He watches as your eyes coast over the three men, who are staring at you with varied amounts of attraction, annoyance, and shock on their faces. You’re realizing that there isn’t a free chair anywhere in the office. Your first thought is to sit on the corner of Bucky’s mahogany desk, because where the hell else does he want you to sit? You’re making your move to perch there when you meet Bucky’s gaze again.

The harsh, offended look on his face clears things up for you quickly. He most definitely doesn’t want you sitting on his desk. The way he pushes his chair back a few inches and spreads his legs to make room leaves a mix of anger and excitement swirling around within you. You stand there beside his desk, staring at him with a cold expression of your own. With a little tilt of his head to the side and another narrowed look, you find your legs carrying you forward once more, toward the man you’ve always been inexplicably drawn to.

“Who is she to you? We’re not going to sit here and talk business in front of one of your little playthings. She has no part in this.” The bold middle man barks out, directing his anger at Bucky now. Bucky’s in his own world for the moment. The soft curve of your ass is pressing against the junction of his hip and his thigh, the sweet scent of your perfume is making his head spin, and the way your cheeks are turning a gentle shade of pink is making him question every illegal thing he’s ever done. It’s as if he has an actual angel in front of him right now. He’s quiet for a bit too long after the man’s harsh question, and you turn your head to look at your boss. You notice the way his normally hardened gaze softens when you make eye contact with him, the way his pupils dilate in the slightest and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes smooth out. You’re lost in him for a moment, lost in the sea of blue that rims his widened pupils, lost in the way your anger seems to be dissipating more and more with every second that you look at him.

Bucky likes that you hold eye contact with him even as he reaches up to his desk with his right hand, even as he wraps his fingers around the gun that he laid there before the meeting began. Even when he aims the gun between the eyes of the man in the middle chair, you’re still lost in his gaze. It isn’t until he pulls the trigger and ends the man’s life right there that your eyes snap shut and your body tenses up. Instinctively, Bucky’s vibranium hand moves to the small of your back to steady you, to make you feel safer.

“Does anyone else have anything to say about my wife?”

That’s the moment you find out that somehow, without your knowledge or agreement, you’re married to James Bucky Barnes.

TAG LIST:

@vicmc624 @emerald-writes @skulliecadaver-blog @globetrotter28 @b3llair3 @steeph-aniie @spiffylittlebug @raging-panda @dozcan123 @sapphirebarnes @sarah1barnes @sunnyhummingbee @gyokujyn @jenniferpendragon @siciliano13 @ordelixx @crist1216 @twlkdead @claireelizabeth85 @charmedbysarge @blackhawkfanatic @kentokaze @eecummingsandgoings @nyashonality @h2oaffirmations @sadeyes61 @aka-tua-braindump @immortalfangirl @valenftcrush @andrometda

#bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #the winter soldier #winter soldier #mafia bucky barnes #mafia bucky x reader #mafia bucky x you

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cannellaeluce · 1 year

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one thing that I can’t let go of re: the locked tomb series is the statement I think it makes about identity and permanence and love. Like, I guess we all finished gideon the ninth being in love with gideon’s pov and with harrow as the person she is in relation to gideon. Then we landed in harrow the ninth and we were robbed of both, and I’m sure we all felt like we lost something, and we thought the end goal would be to get to the point where we would go back to having the thing that we lost: gideon’s vibrant voice and harrow’s whole psyche. and then we landed in nona the ninth and...

I don’t know for ya’ll, but that’s when something in me shifted. phyrra was in the body of her most beloved adept and got to live with her longing for him and for wake redefining her identity; we didn’t care for her in the previous books, but we got to care for her now, and she was worth it. camilla’s body was both hers and palamedes’ and the coronation of their arc wasn’t to go back to how they were when we first learned to love them; it was to let go of both their individualities to become a whole new person, and we readers - just as nona - got to experience the pang at understanding that we were to let go of our concept of camilla and palamedes as individuals, while having to accept that that was the truest form they both could possibly achieve, that they felt no loss whatsoever, that what we perceived as loss was in fact their triumph. gideon - our beloved gideon - came back and she wore another name and we got to love her again, but names matter in this universe, and we had to deal with the pang of knowing that we could love her all the same, but she was - in fact - not the same at all, and when she antagonised our new main characters we found out in surprise that we resented her for it, that our loyalties had partially shifted. and then...

and then there was nona. nona in the body of harrow, who got to be loved as a person separated from harrow because bodies are transient and the soul is what matters. nona who was born to disappear in mere months, something the people around her knew well and which didn’t prevent any of them from getting to know her as a fully fleshed individual and to learn to love her all the same. nona whom we readers too understood at one point that was a character built to fade away. we could have decided not to invest in her, then. we could have decided to be annoyed at not finding harrow in her, at not finding gideon in her. but we didn’t. well, I didn’t. I understood she was born to die, and I chose to love her all the same. because isn’t it how it is? isn’t this how love is? we are mortal things who fall for mortal things knowing full well they won’t last. but we choose to love all the same. the impermanence of things isn’t a flaw ruining what should have been perfect; it is the very essence of things. we got to love nona even though she wouldn’t last. we got to love nona because she wouldn’t last. that’s all fine, in the end, because we got to love someone, and you can’t take loved away.

#the locked tomb #nona the ninth #tamsyn muir #tlt #harrowhark nonagesimus #gideon nav #phyrra dve #camilla hect #palamedes sextus #you can't take loved away #life is too short and love is too long #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #and the extenuating wait for #alecto the ninth

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roseykat · 10 months

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TITLE: How they are when they cum

SYNOPSIS: OT8 version of...the title x

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won't be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with these posts so please do not engage with my work and page whatsoever.

TAGS: mentions/descriptions of orgasms, blowjobs, sex positions. Nothing too major.

A/N: Take this as a filler while I wrap up my post for Shutterfly Butterfly. I actually really enjoyed creating these blurbs and will do more in the future.

BANG CHAN

Groans and grunts. He’s pretty vocal in bed and on the very strong occasion where he cums as hard as he always does, he’ll announce it, and it’s the hottest thing ever. There’s nothing sexier than a man expressing how much pleasure they’re in through such an erotic thing. Usually his moans and incoherent words sound so panicked before he combusts inside of you, like he’s dying to cum but doesn’t want to yet so as to savour your warm, wet, heat wrapping around his cock.

MINHO

Is gripping onto you when he cums. Whether it’s by digging his nails into the skin and flesh of your hips or ass, grabbing a fistful of your hair, groping your tits - he needs something to help him channel such a surge of pleasure when he orgasms. His moans are very breathy and very consistent. He won’t always announce that he’ll cum but you can tell when he does. If it’s not the warm load inside of you, it’ll be the silence he exudes that will give it away. For some reason, that’s how you can identify how hard he’s actually cumming.

CHANGBIN

Will not shut up, and you don’t want him to either. Every ounce of pleasure he gets from fucking you, sends him into another realm. But when he cums? A whole other level. The pleasure is out of his depth that it rattles throughout every cell in his body. His eyes will flutter, mouth slightly ajar for your name to spill out. When he cums, he also has the tendency to bury his face into your neck, depending on the position. Not because he’s ashamed, but because he just doesn’t know how to deal with the overwhelming waves of euphoria.

HYUNJIN

He will moan your name repeatedly and it’ll be in the most beautiful airy voice known to this earth. Sometimes he can be quiet but not intentionally. He’s just trying his best not to cum so quickly and feels that hearing his own moans mixed with yours will get him there faster when he actually wants to drag out how good he feels for as long as he can. He’ll mutter quietly to you against your lips that he’s ‘gonna cum’ and when he does, his forehead might rest on yours or he’s kissing you as he’s cumming, and he’s all flustered and rushed.

HAN

Whiny. Whiny as fuck and whimpers. He tries to stifle his moans with the back of his hand or maybe he’ll be biting down on your shoulder or something. But when you have both of his hands cuffed or pinned by the sides of his head when you ride him, he is the loudest, whiniest person in existence. You’ve even thought about gagging him, especially before he cums at least. He’s so prone to being overstimulated a lot and has most definitely cried before when you’ve made him orgasm.

FELIX

Will most likely say to you “gonna make me cum,” every time the two of you have sex or you’re giving him head, right before he orgasms. He wants you to know that you’re the one unraveling his sanity for a good thirty seconds. Felix is vocal, loud, and almost borderline whiny. Despite having such a deep voice, his whimpers can be the complete opposite. It’s just a sign that he’s struggling to deal with so much pleasure that his body can possibly handle.

SEUNGMIN

Sometimes he might hold his breath when he cums because he is just in so much of a state of pleasure, his body doesn’t know how to react. Therefore, you might not always get sounds out of him - which is good because that’s how you know he’s cumming hard. If you’re perhaps giving him a blowjob, his head will tip back, voice lodged in his throat until he’s spilling white wherever you’ll let him. But in the few seconds after he cums, Seungmin is either swearing or moaning as well; most of the time, both.

JEONGIN

Similar to most; moans a lot to a T. He can get sort of embarrassed by it even though you reassure him that it’s okay to express how good you feel in the moment, especially after you told him how much you like it. From there he’s become a bit more relaxed and now he won’t hold back. They’re sort of high pitched, but low and strained in some cases when he’s absolutely railing you. Will also breathe out “baby” over and over again as he approaches the edge of his orgasm.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know smut #rosiewritesskz #bang chan smut #i.n smut #seungmin smut #felix smut #changbin smut #hyunjin smut #han jisung smut

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ohnoitstbskyen · 2 months

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So I know you headcanon Nami as a lesbian and Luffy as aroaco (both which is heavily agree with!) What are your romance/sexuality headcanons for the other Strawhats?

Hm. I think Zoro is ace, but not aro, but also the only thing he's really in love with is his dream of fulfilling his promise to Kuina, becoming the greatest swordsman in the world. Once he accomplishes that... well, I am not 100% sure he'll survive accomplishing it, actually, I think the story is signaling pretty hard that his moment of transcendence is going to be connected with the moment of his death (the "King of Hell" thing, all the Buddhism imagery, his tendency to find revelations about swordsmanship on the brink of death) but if he does survive it, that's when maybe romance can become a consideration for him. Maybe. That's when he can figure out who he's even into.

Sanji is extremely romantic - hyperromantic, even - but honestly in a way that's... almost totally disconnected from actual romance? He worships women as divine goddesses and sources of extreme aesthetic and emotional joy for him, but he seems to struggle enormously to actually relate to them a lot of the time. He seems more invested in Being A Gentleman Who Loves Women than he does in... actually being in any sort of a realistic relationship with a woman.

Pudding is the closest he comes to forming an actual romantic relationship, and even then, so much of it is ultimately motivated by his romantic fantasy of Being The Prince, of being the noble, self-sacrificing hero who Saves The Girl, of Being A Good Man. Committing to her is, for him, an act of self-sacrifice, for the sake of his crew, for the sake of his family (Zeff and the Baratie, not the Vinsmokes), and for the sake of her more than it is an earnest desire to build a future with a true partner. He's resigning himself to a life of being her perfect domestic husband servant, in worship and adoration of her, but never in partnership.

In an extremely weird way, the vibe I get from Sanji is he's like a... hyperromantic... aromantic? He's EXTREMELY invested in romantic fantasies, but not so much in the actual day-to-day mundanities of romance, he's in love with the idea of being in love, with the experience of being in love, with the thrill and act and performance of being in love, more than he is in love with any actual person?

Partly this comes down to One Piece just not being a romance story - romance is generally sidelined and elided in most situations, and Sanji's romantic obsessions are played for comedy 99% of the time, they are not taken seriously, so he never has an opportunity to really go through the process of romance as a grounded, flesh-and-blood process, but I can only discuss him as he is presented.

Robin, I think, might be the most straightforward of the crew. I am on board with the Frobin agenda, I think she's probably straight and... if not cis, then about as cis as you can be with a power like the Hana Hana no Mi. And I think she genuinely would be very attracted to a loud, dependable eccentric like Franky, as the other half to her quiet dependable eccentric personality. Especially since he is loudly and obviously an extremely decent man with a heart of gold, and Robin carries so much trauma of being a "devil child," I think she probably needs that kind of uncomplicated light of goodness in her life.

Usopp, again, is probably a fairly straightforward sort. The live action gives him a thing for Kaya, but I could see him being bi or pan, but much like Zoro I don't think he's going to quite have the capacity for Romance™ until he fulfils his dream of becoming a great warrior of the sea (he already has, of course, but he needs to internalize it and realize it within himself). I ONE HUNDRED percent believe he might end up taking a Giant for a spouse.

Franky is... okay this makes no sense whatsoever but I feel that he's gay? But also would fall for Robin? ... but in a gay way???

Look I don't know how that works either, it's a vibe it's a brain feeling it's a wibbly wobbly romance gender sort of situation. Franky is clearly in love with the male body, with masculinity, with maleness, and he especially loves building himself into those images of hypermasculinity, but he does in a way that feels hella queer to me. I don't really think you can be a self-made cyborg building his own body without being some flavor of queer-coded, like, I just don't think that that can be a cishet thing anymore.

He would fall for Robin is my point, in part because they share a knack for creating themselves, in part because Robin would appreciate and need him, in part because she would adore his cybernetic self-creation and find it charming and beautiful, and I think he needs someone who will love his creations (including, y'know, his body) as much as he does.

It's like... y'know how Neo and Trinity in the Matrix are clearly, OBVIOUSLY a t4t couple even though they're both technically cis in the text of the story? It's like that with Frobin for me. Yeah, sure, they're both cis and straight, but also they are trans and gay.

Jinbei I have no idea, actually, he could be into absolutely anything. Kind of a gay bear vibe? That's the best I got. Chopper is a child and I don't think he really has any idea yet either, and Brook... look, I don't think you can be THAT level of flamboyant rockstar and not be some flavor of queer. The Soul King wears Elton John outfits half the time. I don't know that he has a sexuality anymore necessarily (he could be ace, what with the having no carnal flesh and all), but if he's not at least bi romantically then nothing about him makes sense.

#tb answers #one piece #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro #vinsmoke sanji #nico robin #tony tony chopper #jinbei #soul king brook #cyborg franky #god usopp #sniper king usopp #usopp

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pinkaditty · 1 month

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Random HCs About Obey Me! Dateables (minus Newspaper Club)

a/n: hello my lovelies! me again! im writing as much as i can 2 re-accommodate myself 2 posting and such. lack of motivation and executive dysfunction have really been hitting hard lately, so id appreciate lots of love on my recent works! i need a good boost i think. wah anyway, im working on your requests! im working on multiple at once which is why its taking so long. ill be pumping out three at once, with any luck! please cheer me on raaaaaahhh!!!!

summary: a little blurb about some hcs i have for the demons, humans, and angels of Obey Me! minus Luke and the Newspaper Club. I promise 2 make more content of them later though! most of these hcs are anatomy and personality based.

cw: nsfw (MINORS DNI), suggestive, mentions of monsterfucking, seduction, monster traits (slit pupils, scales, feathers, wings, pointed ears, fangs, etc), as well as detailed descriptions of odd bodily morphisms. its probably not as bad as i have listed here but viewer discretion is advised regardless. NOT PROOFREAD! there will probably be lots of typos :(

MINORS DNI! THIS POST IS SUGGESTIVE AND WILL LATER LEAD INTO AN NSFW POST! PLEASE RESPECT MY BOUNDARY!

IMPORTANT INFO BEFORE WE BEGIN that I hc that the brothers and other demons all have different demon forms. Like, they have their mostly human forms (Form 1), but then they have their in-game demon forms (Form 2), and then on top of that, they have a second, less humanoid, more monsterish demon form (Form 3), and then past that, they have a full monster demon form (Form 4, monsterfuckers unite!!!1!). ill get into those hcs later. side note that i also believe the demon dateables have heat cycles and will make a separate post detailing that.

General overview (a more thorough one will be created later):

Form 1: Human form that the demon dateables have in-game. Some monster traits are still there, such as unusually large teeth and fangs, pointed ears, and odd morphisms (strangely shaped pupils, strangely shaped tongue, strangely colored flesh, retractable claws and teeth, etc).

Form 2: Humanoid demon form that the demon dateables have in-game. More monster traits are revealed, such as scales, horns, tails, fins, wings, and any other traits, including more exaggerated traits that are suppressed in their humanoid form (longer and pointier ears, more obvious slit pupils, sharp fangs and retractable teeth and claws no longer repressed, etc).

Form 3: Monster-like demon form, but still vaguely humanoid. Whatever demon features they have are extremely exaggerated instead of repressed, and scales, feathers, or any other features they have become more prominent, widespread, and obvious.

Form 4: Full on Monster demon. They become the animals they represent. For example, Leviathan literally BECOMES the monster leviathan, the impossibly large sea serpent. Asmodeus would become a manticore, Beelzebub would be a fly-bull hybrid, Belphegor is a cow minotaur but more monsterish, if that makes sense. etc etc im sure you have got it figured out.

Anyways, lets get into it!

Demon Brothers:

Lucifer:

His feathers r constantly shedding. like. constantly. when he transforms into his demon form it's just a burst of feathers.

when he's in his humanoid demon form (Form 2) he'll have wings behind his ears. they're small and heavy.

Surprisingly doesn't mind when MC preens his feathers or horns and genuinely enjoys it. He purrs at the feeling. will not encourage you to do it though.

achy back because his wings, while smaller, became heavier. sits down a lot and relaxes his back muscles often. will never have incorrect posture bc of this.

has a tail but it's like. just feathers. he's slightly embarrassed about it because it sticks straight out and he cannot manipulate it whatsoever.

Has small feathery spots on his body when he's in humanoid demon form (Form 2). Like, the center of his chest, back of his neck, cheekbones, and his ankles all grow feathers when he transforms.

only wears reading glasses. his eyesight actually isn't that bad, it just helps him see things clearer.

hates it when his room smells like him like he just can't stand it. on occasion his brothers will come in and just randomly spend time in there when he's not working. the smell of family helps him relax.

actually enjoys the nickname Lucy but won't admit that.

is genuinely a good cook just doesn't do it often because of all the work he has to do.

bleeds a deep blue with a thin red sheen. black gums and oral flesh. not due to health issues they're just like that; the fall physically altered their bodies in more ways than one. also has retractable fangs but they're non-existent when retracted. his mouth is just incisors literally.

long, flat tongue. pointed and sharp at the end.

Mammon:

hates the color green. nothing wrong with anyone wearing it but he cannot stand the color anywhere in his room or on him.

has partial tritanopia. it mostly affects his red/purple vision. can see most colors pretty okay, though. especially green and god he hates it.

ok please hear me out: he's got bad eyesight. you will never catch him without contacts or glasses because he will not be caught lacking ever again.

has pointed ears. very sharp and long.

he actually does have a tail, but not in the humanoid demon form (Form 2). when he gets to the next stage, a more humanoid monsterish demon (Form 3), his tail sprouts from his lower back. not very long, but very sharp, scaly, and has spines on the back.

has and will use his horns as corkscrews. easy solution!

has retractable claws in his hands and feet

flaps his wings indignantly to get attention, especially around MC or to overpower overlapping voices. something about them commands attention and he's proud of it.

bleeds gold and has a black tongue like Lucifer, but golden oral flesh. can't explain it i just feel it in my soul.

his blood is naturally corrosive. will literally burn not only your skin, but the skin of his brothers as well. can dissolve metals in seconds. do not let him bleed around you.

has generally sharp teeth, his canines being longer and sharper. teeth have a nice golden sheen to them. the first time you saw his teeth u were convinced he was wearing grills cuz????

thick black forked tongue but fork is not very prominent. presents more like a split tongue than a fork.

his tongue is also super abrasive. has tiny keratin projections like a cat's tongue. won't really hurt if he licks you but it's a weird sensation.

Leviathan:

can't hear well above ground and needs a greater water pressure to hear better. he's a deep sea demon so it's a little obvious.

responds better to light than color and actually also can't differentiate between colors very well. deep sea thing, it's the light that matters more than the color of it. he can still see color, just that physically speaking, flipping his lights on and off will get his attention quicker than holding a paper in front of his face.

since he's a deep sea demon, and there's lots of pressure in the deep sea, his body expands when he's above sea level, hence: he is slightly chubby (round face, protruding pudgy tummy, you can't exactly tell because he always dresses baggy). argue with the wall.

pupils are more slit-like. still rounded in humanoid form (Form 1) but definitely slit-like. become fully slits when he's in his humanoid demon form (Form 2).

has two sets of eyelids; 2nd set is clear and behind his normal eyelids. they close horizontally and are used to protect his eyes in saltwater and allow him to see.

has gills (located on neck and sides of his torso) and therefore has a greater lung capacity than any of his brothers. his gills are also sensitive and somewhat erogenous. ask before you touch them please or else he'll jump out of his skin.

neck is very long. is actually the second tallest of the brothers, you just can't tell because of how much he slouches.

has fins behind his ears, on his forearms, and on his calves and ankles. they are large, shimmery, and a blue-purple color. not super sensitive but be gentle when you touch them bc they're privy to tear.

can flap his fins and does this when he's excited.

has scales all over his body in humanoid demon form (Form 2), randomly placed in thick groups (shoulder blades, cheeks, neck, hips). they are small, smooth, shimmery, and midnight blue.

will often swim around in his aquarium. is on good terms with every creature he has in there and is always bringing a new one.

he constantly looks wet because his scales and fins are so shimmery but he's not wet he's just shiny.

tail is actually very thin and brittle at the end. will grow back if it breaks off but he's not fond of that happening. it's much stronger and heavier at the base. he can crush a human femur with that.

pointed ears like Mammon, even in his humanoid form (Form 1).

bleeds orange, has lavender gums and oral flesh. seven rows of fangs, and the lesser four are retractable. also has the longest fangs of his brothers.

forked tongue forked tongue!! it's very very long and thin and deep blue. his taste buds are scattered among the inside of his mouth rather than on his tongue.

it's also abrasive, like Mammon's, but his tongue will actually hurt. like, actually, unless it's the underside.

Satan:

can't remember where I saw this but someone said his feather boa is a collection of Lucifer's feathers and I wholeheartedly agree. that's exactly what they are. he does this out of spite.

his hands are abnormally large, on par with Beel's size. all the better to destroy with!

i know what the website says but they're taller in my hcs anyway. and I headcanon that he's the shortest. he's the smallest. by like, one inch shorter than Asmo (who i hc to be abt 6'2-5, so Satan is just under that range). it's so unfortunate BUT he grows into the second tallest when he transforms into his full demon form :] (Form 4)

can hear and see very well. has one of the most heightened senses of the brothers.

also has slit-like pupils like Levi.

has retractable claws in both his hands and feet.

has two thick, protruding black ridges on his back leading to his tail. they are scaly and of the same material as his horns. they present more like a heavily ridged spine in his humanoid form (Form 1), but they become more obvious in his humanoid demon form (Form 2).

loves to stare at cats at midnight because his eyes are the same shape as theirs at that time. will often sneak out to find a cat and simply stare.

his tail is scaly, but not like Levi's. the scales are much bigger and thicker, like uneven chunks of metal.

the end of it is pointed

his tail isn't really sensitive, but it is ticklish if you can get to the skin underneath the scales.

has small gauges. can't explain it, these are the only piercings he has.

bleeds a bright, sickly green. has forest green gums and oral flesh. Teeth are normal but his canines are heavily pronounced, longer and sharper than the surrounding teeth. his molars are also abnormally sharp, the edges pointed and elongated.

tongue is forked like Mammon's in that it presents more like a split tongue. his is barely there. also, has teeth on his tongue. small fangs along the sides of it. it's a sickly green. Mammon hates watching Satan talk.

Asmodeus:

His pupils are horizontal bars, like that of a goat. surprisingly unnoticeable unless you stare.

has never gotten a single blemish on his skin ever but that doesn't stop him from using skincare products anyway!

naturally smells like roses, but around humans, he smells like their deepest desires.

his wings are not very strong. he can't fly for very long or very high either.

he has a birthmark the shape of a lipstick kiss mark on his left hip. he's so proud of it and will show it off unprovoked.

has very light, almost unnoticeable freckles. doesn't like to cover them up because when he goes full manticore demon form (Form 3 and 4), his whiskers show up in the same area. it's uncomfortable.

his ears are pointed slightly. not as much as Mammon's, but still pointed.

very frail. not necessarily a bad thing, just surprising. his health could shatter instantaneously. while he may not die from something, he could be bedridden for a while.

bleeds a glittery pink and his blood is a natural aphrodisiac. gums and oral flesh appear normal but are actually an unsettlingly bright pink color. has fangs, most of his teeth are slightly pointed. they're the sharpest fangs of the brothers.

forked tongue except it's in three segments. they're all shaped like normal tongues but abnormally long and the middle one is the longest. bright pink and slightly abrasive. also pretty thick. has some of his taste buds on his bottom jaw.

Beelzebub:

also has horizontal bars for pupils. also strangely unnoticeable unless you stare.

the largest, tallest, and bulkiest of his brothers, but weighs slightly less than Mammon and Lucifer because their wings are particularly heavy.

you never have to worry about him choking because he won’t. it always goes down the right pipe i promise.

is a great cook! can never finish though. the ingredients are gone before he’s finished. hes the type to make cookie dough and then eat the dough. never making the cookies. it’s not his fault though he’s just super hungry.

MC and Belphie work together to provide Beel with a secret stash of food so that he doesn’t always clear out the fridge. it’s a win-win.

wings are very lightweight, as are his horns. he never beats his wings because he sounds like a giant fly when he does and it has disturbed more than enough people at this point. will buzz them when eating particularly good food. he can’t help that.

has antennae along with his horns. long, thin, and black. almost invisible if you don’t pay attention.

can communicate with flies and other small insects but doesn’t bother to do so very often. will tell them to stay away from MC if MC doesn’t like bugs.

bleeds red, but an odd oversaturated and bright red. gums and oral flesh are the same color, but his tongue is black. not forked, but very flat and long, allowing for more room for food in his mouth and down his throat.

all of his teeth are fangs except for his molars for grinding. his molars, however, have elongated sharp edges like Satan’s. teeth are stained red at the roots so it appears that his teeth are bloody. they’re not, they’re just like that.

when starving, his saliva and blood are extremely, extremely acidic. will dissolve skin in seconds. when just typically hungry, it's about as acidic as gastric acid.

Belphegor:

can switch back and forth between normal vision and negative light vision. usually sees in negative because his eyes are too tired and everything is constantly bright :(

also has horizontal bar pupils like Beel and Asmo.

eyes droop downwards and have a hypnotizing look to them (both Beel and Asmo have this as well). the three younger brothers are particularly good at human seduction because of this trait.

is the youngest and therefore has the youngest brother attitude. iykyk.

is probably more of a troublemaker than Mammon is. Mammon may be in financial debt but Belphie is in moral debt. Will embarrass all of his brothers (except Beel sometimes) and think nothing of it. doesn’t always get away with stuff though. what goes around comes around…!

would not be as close with Satan as he is canonically if they didn’t have hating Lucifer in common. but because they do have that in common, they’ve found other things to like about each other. Satan will keep quiet reading in the library if Belphie is napping there and in turn Belphie will spare Satan from the next round of exposing his brothers. win-win.

he resembles a satyr in his humanoid demon form (Form 2). his lower half is covered with spotted cow fur and his feet become hooves.

tail is a mix of scales and fur. the scales are closer to the root of his tail, on his body, and eventually becomes more fur as it reaches the tip.

when angry or upset, will whip his tail around and crack it on the nearest hard surface (floor, table, wall, etc) multiple times. it sounds like a whip and is very startlingly loud.

gets angry a lot. is also surprisingly very very expressive.

has vitiligo and his spots are where the fur in his full demon form are lighter colors.

has retractable claws but doesn't often use them.

bleeds purple with a red sheen. gums and oral flesh are black, but his tongue is purple.

has fangs, but they're probably the least prominent of his brothers. closest to normal human canines. however, he has the second strongest bite force of the brothers (first strongest is beel, third is satan).

Dateable Side Characs:

Diavolo:

naturally high body temperature. constantly warm. how does he not sweat so much? we'll never know.

his horns at the base are very sensitive. like, extremely. he'll jump 10 feet if your fingers brush against them.

his laugh is naturally extra like that. he doesn't mean to be extra it's just like that.

secretly really wants to make a pact with MC but obviously can't, for multiple reasons. feels left out :/

his yawns are almost as animated and ridiculous as his laugh is. he's so silly.

totally a morning person. ask him to stay up late and he will conk out immediately.

very fond of and fascinated with humans and is enamored every time he talks to MC or Solomon. never lets it show. Barbatos knows, though.

is only one more inch taller than Beel.

ik it's canon that none of the brothers are as strong as Dia but I like to hc that he'd have a hard time fighting any of them, Beel especially. if both of them were lucid and fully aware, Dia would eventually come out on top, but not without a grueling struggle.

his bodily fluids are as hot as magma. didn't even notice because of how warm he is until MC got burned from eating off the same spoon as him.

bleeds a brighter gold than Mammon. gums and oral flesh are also gold, but his tongue is black and forked similar to Mammon's.

huge fangs. they stick out of his lips sometimes.

his eyes aren't like the younger three demon brothers, but they can be very hypnotizing. he can't turn it on or off, so everyone usually ends up relenting to him because of it. except Barbatos and Thirteen, they are the only two immune to it.

Barbatos:

in contrast to Dia this guy is constantly freezing. like touch his hands or neck and you'll feel like you've got frostbite.

it's physically impossible for him to offer body warmth so just accept his tea instead

is a total tea enthusiast. even he doesn't know why. he just loves finding new teas to make.

similarly enamored with humans, but particularly with MC. less so with Solomon because he’s just not like other humans.

his power is definitely on par with Dia’s, if not more. this is why he was absolutely a necessary ally to Dia. Barbatos would be far worse as a neutral party or enemy.

there isn’t much he isn’t good at except board games. for whatever reason, if it’s not chess, he just can’t get the hang of it. even monopoly confuses him but he always somehow ends up owning the boardwalk. dumb luck or his sin? we may never know.

has gills like Levi along his neck and sides. his are much larger, however, and grow into patterned grooves on his back.

he has long hair. i know it's short in canon but in my heart? his hair is longer, like down to his mid-back. all of his hair is like a gradient, except it's slanted, if that makes sense. more hair will be teal on his left than on his right, and the gradient continues at an angle.

haaaaates taking off his gloves unless it's to touch people he loves. for example, he'll slip them off to pat Luke on the head or squeeze Dia's shoulder or to hug MC.

his hands are perfect, btw. inexplicably perfect. something about the bone structure in his hands is just so alluring.

his tail is cold and constantly slimy. not unhygienic, just slimy. also very strong. he can lift and hold heavy things pretty well with it.

hates rats AND mice. both are committers of unforgivable crimes to him. but he's a bit of a scaredy cat. will yelp and hide behind the closest person (except Luke and most of the demon brothers) if a rat or mouse appears suddenly.

bleeds a shimmery paris green. gums and oral flesh are the same color. his teeth are a blinding white, though. hard to look at.

tongue is similar to his tail in appearance and shape, except segmented into three like Asmodeus’s tongue. it's also freezing cold.

yk how i said asmodeus has the sharpest fangs of the brothers? well this guy has the sharpest fangs period. literally. his tongue and oral flesh is a bit thick to prevent his teeth from constantly cutting the inside of his mouth.

Simeon:

hair is really coily. idc what his hair looks like canonically. it's coily to me. also naturally soft and perfect like he has effortlessly perfect coils.

lips are pretty thick, probably has the thickest lips of all characters. suuuuper kissable. two-toned.

he is naturally constantly the perfect amount of warm. cuddles and hugs and small touches from him are always perfect because he's always the right temperature.

has the toothiest, goofiest grins ever. he doesn't grin often though. usually he just smiles.

is surprisingly super petty and will not let shit slide. will not. don't try it bc he's not the one.

he KNOWS his outfit is a little revealing. he KNOWS when you're looking. and no, he won't stop you nor is he ashamed of it, but he will chide you if you go too far.

will always be bad with technology and will always beat Barbatos in board games. except chess.

began writing TSL as an outlet for his wrath. it was therapeutic and worked to dissolve his wrath, but he does continue to struggle with it.

is actually super clever and knowing. on par with Barbatos and Solomon in terms of sheer knowledge. it just isn't readily apparent about him.

isn't exactly fond of stormy weather because his outfits include elaborate capes and he hates it when they get caught up in the wind and no longer appear elegant

dresses like a fall christian girl when it's cold out. sweaters and skinny jeans galore.

has normal oral flesh and gums, the only difference is that unlike other angels, Simeon has unusually sharp and long canines.

normal tongue too, nothing to worry about.

Solomon:

he knows how to cook. he just loves how doing it incorrectly always manages to piss people off. he gets a good kick out of it.

has been alive for a very long time but still can't read analog clocks right, especially ones without numbers.

will occasionally disguise himself as a college student and attend classes to keep himself up to date with what is being taught. usually erases memories of students and teachers once he's done attending.

he knows he's immortal but he likes to live like he can die via regular things that could kill a human.

isn’t exactly an asshole, is just somehow an expert at pissing everyone off. he’s genuinely likeable, he’s just never gotten enough of how funny it is to piss people off.

is still human but hanging around demons and angels has changed him in odd ways. for example, he’ll have an oddly strong sense of virtue, but at the same time value corruption.

obviously is on the side of humans, no matter what happens. its why he’s so attached to MC despite MC being very close with the brothers. secretly, he wants MC to choose him, too.

normal human anatomy unfortunately.

pays for his immortality in purity. it is why Thirteen mentioned his flame still sparkles, but it’s different. his soul becomes less pure and more corrupted the longer he lives on. ultimately this has no effect on his health, but it simply states that there’s really only one option for his afterlife.

totally normal human anatomy. is surprisingly really healthy and doesn’t often get sick.

a/n: wellllll that's all for now yippee!!!!!!!!! i hope you all enjoyed my little hcs. ive had this in the drafts for, like... a very long time, but just never got around 2 posting it, so i hope you all enjoy this. please leave a like, comment, and a reblog if you liked this post! i love 2 know that you all enjoy my works! also, if u have hcs about the demon dateables that you'd like to share, PLEASE TELL ME!!! i love sharing and discussing hcs, especially anatomy ones! its so much fun!!!

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poeghoul · 7 months

Text

hard times iii.

in which they're far too drawn to each other.

word count: 7,852 warnings: mentions of drug usage and abuse, unwanted advances, angst, possessiveness authors note: not proofread. only a few parts left to this series </3 im far too attached to them.

masterlist

part one part two

Y/n made her way out of the diner, the new waiter, Ross, following close behind her. “It’s not too bad, I promise. You’ll get the hang of it soon,” she turned to face him, smiling to try and relieve his anxiety. The poor boy had spilled orange juice all over his black sweater, the thick fabric sticking to his chest, and still slightly damp. “Plus you’ll be taking the night shift and barely anyone comes in.”

He exhaled through his mouth, raising his eyebrows at her, “so that means shit tips, huh?” he joked at her. She pulled her lips into her mouth, hesitant to answer, and when she went to challenge his assumption, he cut her off. “Fuck, really? Shit, I’m fucked,” running a hand through his hair, he shook his head. She pursed her lips at him.

“It’s not awful, I swear. And you’re new, so,” she trailed off, not entirely knowing what to say to the blue eyed boy. “They always start the newbies off at night,” the end of her sentence sounded more like a question, and he just smirked at her and tilted his head to the side.

“You’re shit at making people feel better, you know that?” he grinned at her, pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth, shaking his head at her. She grinned at him, exhaling a laugh through her nose. “Ya need a ride or anything?”

“Mm, no I have a ride already, thank you though,” she gestured to the man standing next to the black SUV behind her. A ‘shit’ coming from the boy in front of her. “Yeah,” she pursed her lips. Ever since the first night Jax had picked her up, everyone who worked at the diner bombarded her with a million questions anytime the ‘mystery’ man stood in front of the building; how’d you score that, who is he, how do you know him, etc.

“No offense, but how the fuck are you able to drive that? Or have someone drive you in that,” he stared at her, a befuddled look graced his face.

She tucked her bottom lip in between her teeth for a second, his gaze switching from her eyes to her lips and back once the flesh was released, “um, a friend of mine kinda owes me a favor and this is how he’s paying me back,” she shrugged, her right arm coming up to rub her left, an anxious habit.

A humorless laugh escaped him, “I will never ask for a favor if this is what you’re expecting in return,” he gestured to the car. “I’ll see you in the morning, y/n,” he patted her shoulder before running his hand down her arm, barely even touching the jacket covered skin, and grazed her hand for a moment longer than he should’ve. She blushed from the action, taking in a sharp breath before nodding and bidding him goodbye.

They parted ways; Ross walking to a beat up ‘99 Honda Civic hatchback, and y/n to her (Harry’s) personal chauffeur’s car. She sent a smile to Jax before wrapping her arms around his torso, squishing her face into his chest (he was significantly taller than her, but not as tall as Harry).

“Hey, sweetpea,” he greeted her, she felt the vibrations rumble through his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, a hand coming up to caress the back of her head and a gentle kiss was placed on the crown of her head. “Wanna tell me who that was?” he pulled back to wink at her, she just rolled her eyes unwrapping her arms and crossing them over her chest and he opened the door for her,

“That was Ross, he’s the new waiter I told you about. Not very good though,” she stepped up into the backseat and sat her bag down on the seat next to her. A few weeks ago, she’d be getting in the backseat hoping Harry would greet her with an apology or an explanation. Now, she’d be surprised to even smell Harry’s lingering cologne. He’s been avoiding her since the last time he came to her apartment. No calls, no texts, no interactions whatsoever.

Jax laughed, closing the door before running around the back of the car and hopping in the front seat. His eyes met hers in the rearview mirror, “that bad, huh?” Her eyes widened and she nodded, her mouth agape.

“I’ve never met anyone that uncoordinated, I swear. He’s great with the customers, he really is, he just can’t balance a tray to save his life,” she sighed, “Dan put a lot of faith in me, too, which makes it worse. Like, I can’t just magically make someone a great waiter, especially if this is their first waiting job.”

“That’s rough, sweetpea, I’m sorry.”

“Is it bad I don’t think he’ll last long?” sympathy laced her tone.

“Not at all, and from the sounds of it, that seems likely,” he shrugged one shoulder and started the car. Pushing the parking brake down, he shifted into reverse before pulling out of the parking lot and on to the main street leading to her studio.

“Yeah,” she pulled her lips into her mouth, looking out the window. She had switched to the morning shift, paranoia suffocating her every night making her shifts much harder to get through without choking on her anxiety. And because no one else was willing to take the night shift, they had to hire another waiter. And apparently, for god knows why, they just had to hire one with no experience. And just had to make y/n train him. A form of punishment, she’s sure. “How was your day?” she looked back to him, eyes trained on his side profile.

“Mm, fine. Uneventful as normal. Just waited around for,” he met her eyes in the rearview, “Mr. Styles,” she looked down at her hands, picking at her over bitten cuticles, dried blood staining her nail beds. “He had another meeting with Mr. Horan,” she nodded slowly. Niall hadn’t even come into the diner. They both had disappeared.

The drive was short, it always was. Soon enough, she was thanking him, like usual, and running up the stairs to her apartment. Unlocking the door, she could hear the bells she had attached to the door handle on the inside sing loudly. It was annoying, but with where her mind had been the past month, she deemed it necessary. Kicking her shoes off, she plopped on her chair, rolling her neck from side to side trying to alleviate the tension.

After her third morning shift, she had started to regret asking to be taken off nights, she had no clue what to do in the middle of the afternoon. When she’d get off around ten, she would come home and get ready for bed and watch a show or scroll through tiktok until she’d be half asleep with the phone slipping from her grasp. It was a routine she’d been used to for about eight months, but developing new routines and sticking to them was not her strong suit.

Getting off this early highlighted how alone she felt. It got dark around 4:30 and winter was creeping in. Her seasonal depression started to settle in, making a home in the cavity of her chest.

+++

Harry sat across from Niall in his home office, sitting back in his expensive Italian leather chair with his leg crossed over his knee. He rarely ever hosted meetings in his home, never trusting anyone enough to invite them in, but Niall was entirely different. He managed to snake his way into Harry’s life; calling and texting him at all hours of the day, inviting him to attend church with his wife and two daughters or out to play a game of golf. Harry was suspicious about the amount of communication and invitations, but learned that Niall was one of the friendliest men he’d ever come across, and eventually accepted an invitation to a game of golf. That was entirely a bad idea, however, since Niall was practically glued to Harry’s side ever since.

He had even told him about what happened with y/n, to which Niall prompted him to just come clean to her about how he felt. But of course, it wasn’t that simple. If it was, Harry would’ve done that the moment he saw his sweet girl shed a tear. They never spoke about it after Harry yelled at Niall to stop meddling.

“Who do you think did it?” Harry asked the blue eyed brunette, referring to a shootout that happened at a Motel 6 twentyseven miles from where they were meeting. Motel 6’s were notorious for drug dealings, though Harry never dared to step foot near one.

Niall shrugged, “could’ve been anyone, really. But I’m sure it had something to do with Justus. He’s always down there, creepin’ around,” a scowl graced his gentle face.

Harry brought his fingers to rest on his mouth, tapping a finger on the skin above his lip and raising an eyebrow at the man's theory, “Hm, Justus, aye?” Niall nodded. “ ‘S a possibility, he loves his motels. Who else could’ve been down there, though? Couldn’t have just been a deal gone wrong, he had to have stepped on someone’s toes.”

“Well, it-” Niall cut himself off, perking up as he put the pieces together in his head, “Payne. It was fucking Payne, god that prickhead.”

“Niall, that name holds no significance with me, who is that?”

“Liam Payne,” Niall answered, leaning forward, “terrible prices, terrible stock, always lacing whatever he’s able to get his hands on to sell for less,” Harry scoffed, shaking his head. “Laced a batch of coke with fent and killed twelve people but of course, being who he is, no one ever ratted him out. Hells gonna swallow him whole rightfully so.”

“Hm,” Harry hummed out, “let’s hope he makes his way up here,” a grin took over his features. Niall stared at him in confusion.

“Why’s that? Don’t want him anywhere near me, if ‘m bein honest.”

“Well, you won’t have to deal with him. I’ll happily take care of him.”

Niall gulped, “I don’t know Harry, he’s shitty but,” he paused, trying to think of the right phrasing, “powerful. Very powerful.”

Harry’s grin widened, the skin around his eyes wrinkling, “and I’m not?” he retorted. Niall shook his head, chuckling, knowing where Harry was headed. “Like I said, I’ll happily take care of him.”

“Devious bastard.”

Niall and Harry said their goodbyes, one of Harry’s men walking him out. Harry sat in his office, alone again. He sat back in his chair, messing with the H and S rings on his left hand, his mind wandering to his little lamb, whom he hadn’t seen in far too long. He wondered if she thought of him, wondered if her thumb ever hovered over the call button under his name in her contacts like he had done with her. She consumed his thoughts daily. He’d ask Jax about how her day went and why she switched to the morning shift, to which Jax couldn’t answer truthfully as he didn’t even know.

Papers scattered the desk in front of him, numbers, dollar signs and crossed out names on nearly every page. The amount of clutter on the desk made him restless, unable to think straight, but he couldn’t bring himself to organize it in any way. He’d begin to put things away but would quickly get overwhelmed with the amount of shit he had to file away. So, he just stared at the piles, his mind occupied by the girl he didn’t get a chance to know, by his own fault.

He reached into his jacket pocket, reading the time, 4:37 pm, and his notifications, looking for one in particular.

Jax D.

She’s home safe, area secured.

A small smile graced his lips, happy she was home safe and unharmed. He wished she would’ve told him instead, however. Wishing to hear the words fall from her pretty pink lips. He tapped at the screen to respond.

Harry:

Good. Thank you.

He set his phone down, his heart aching in his chest, missing his sweet little lamb.

+++

“What are you doing tonight?” Ross asked y/n as she unlocked the front doors for the pair, she looked at him over her shoulder as she pulled the door open.

“Mm, probably nothing, I work tomorrow morning so I don’t really wanna do much,” she let him walk in before her, following him inside before locking the door behind them. “Why, what’s up?” she quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Just curious, damn,” he held his hands up in surrender, she rolled her eyes and laughed at him.

“Well, why are you curious?” The two made their way into the back room, setting their stuff in their designated lockers. She sat down on the bench, retying the shoelace that had come undone. He sat in front of her, legs on either side of the bench.

“Well, I was gonna see if you wanted to do something cause I’m off tomorrow and I assumed you were too so,” he shrugged, staring at her as she sat across from him.

She looked up at him, mouth slightly agape. “Oh,” she nodded slowly. “What were you thinking?”

“What?”

She rolled her eyes at him, “what did you wanna do?”

“Oh, I’m dumb, I thought you meant, like, what are you thinking,” he said in a scolding tone, she laughed. “But whatever you wanna do, we can see a movie or something.”

She nodded her head slowly, contemplating the idea. It wouldn’t be bad, she could get a blue and red icee, but she didn’t want to give up her daily alone time (with working in the service industry, she looked forward to that very much needed time). But with how melancholy she’d been feeling lately, the alone time became very depressing after an hour.

“I’m down,” she smiled at him, a dimple cutting into her cheek. “What do you wanna see? The new Priscilla movie is out, I really wanna see that but we don’t have to watch that if you don’t want to,” she rambled.

“That’s Elvis’ wife right?” She nodded, “I love Elvis,” she cringed. She had a deep hatred for him and his stupid voice and stupid hair. She vowed to never step foot in Vegas because of him. “Let’s do it. Check the times, do you wanna go after work so you’re not staying out too late?”

“Oh yeah that’s actually perfect.”

He grinned back at her, “perfect. It’s a date.”

He got up before she had the chance to correct him; it was absolutely not a date.

+++

Harry sat on the edge of his bed, buttoning up a crisp white shirt. He had returned home from his morning jog and worked out for a little over two hours before getting in the shower and readying himself for the day. No meetings planned, which he was thankful for. He just had to foresee a shipment coming in from Arizona, some of the finest coke he had ever seen was set to come in today and he didn’t trust anyone enough to not tamper with the sweet white powder. Jax, Daniel and Lee met him in the hallway, ready to take him to the warehouse, while the rest of his men were already on their way.

“Morning, Mr. Styles,” one of the burly men greeted him, Harry didn’t bother to respond to the greeting, instead looking to Jax to inquire about his angel.

“She was dropped off at 5:45 this morning, I watched her go inside with the new waiter. She texted me she doesn’t need a ride home but I’ll still check the area out when she’s set to be off,” Harry’s neck almost snapped with the way he turned so quickly.

“What? Did she say why she doesn’t need a ride home?”

Jax shook his head, “She didn’t, sir.”

“Show me the texts,” he stopped in his tracks, his hand reaching out, waiting for the phone to be placed in his palm. Jax hesitated. Harry narrowed his eyes at him becoming impatient. “Show me the texts, now.” Jax reached into his jacket pocket to pull out his phone and tapped on the screen before handing it over to Harry.

Y/n 🐇☁️

Ross said he can give me a ride today:) love u see u in the morning

Harry reread the message four times over, his heart caught in his throat. He turned the screen off and gave the phone back to Jax, turning on his heel to walk out to the car. He settled in the backseat, Lee next to him, while Jax and Daniel sat in the front.

He sat staring out the window, the car not even moving yet. His breathing rapid, his heartbeat similar to one of a rabbit getting caught in the grip of a hawk.

He broke the uncomfortable silence, “Is Ross the new waiter?” Jax nodded, nonverbal. “He seems interested in her?” Again, the man nodded, not daring to say anything more thinking it would just piss him off further. But Harry wasn’t angry, he was more hurt than anything. He knew he had no right to be upset in any way, afterall he walked out on her, but it still didn’t sit well with him. “What time is she set to be off today?” He turned, looking at the man in the passenger seat.

“Scheduled off at 2:30, but depends on if she’s finished with her tables. She's still training the new waiter so it could be longer than that. She said he’s not very good,” Jax threw the last bit in there to appease Harry. It worked.

“You’ll switch cars for the day, you can take the beemer, I want to see her make it home safe.”

“Yes, Mr. Styles.”

+++

Y/n and Ross made their way out of the diner, headed to his beat up little car (he swore it was the coolest “ride” and that the ladies “loved” it). He would take y/n home so she could change and lend him one of her oversized shirts, offering him that after they made the plan to go right after work thinking he’d be uncomfortable in a food stained sweater. He declined the offer at first but after he spilled a copious amount of coffee and syrup on him, he asked if it was still on the table.

Harry and Jax sat in the heavily tinted Beemer watching the pair as they walked out of the double doors and into the piece of shit, as Harry put it. He was fuming, his foot tapping against the carpeted mats of the car as he clenched his jaw, Jax thought he was closing to breaking a few teeth or the mandible all together. The two men followed them as they made their way to y/n’s.

Harry hadn’t been in this area in a week's time; he had been following Jax in that very car, watching to make sure she was actually making it safe to her little home.

He watched as he parked his car on the street, and watched as they walked up the stairs and stood at the door for him to unlock it. That made him even more angry, how was she so comfortable with a man she barely knew to allow him in her apartment?

The chiming of bells rang through her apartment as she pushed open the door.

“Bells?”

She nodded, “I’m a girl living alone, kinda a necessity,” she shrugged, setting her keys down. “Thirsty?” He shook his head.

“Ya know something’s really gotta be done about that.” She looked at him, a confounded look on her face.

“What?”

“Like women are scared to live alone, that’s, like, really shitty. And pads and tampons should be free.” She stared at him, her head cocked to the side before shaking her head and approaching her dresser.

“I have a few sweaters you can borrow too if you’re cold,” she reached into her pajama drawer and pulled out an old Jimi Hendrix shirt she had purchased at a record store from her hometown years ago. The neckline was fraying and the graphic design was barely dark enough to where it was easy to make out.

“Yeah, I’ll take one if that's alright,” he smiled at her, holding the t-shirt up in front of him. “Do you actually like Hendrix or is this just like a hand-me-down?”

She rolled her eyes, going through the bin of sweaters she had, trying to find one that would actually fit his lanky, but tall, frame. “Yes, I actually like him, asshat. I have Are You Experienced on vinyl,” she nodded her head to the turntable that sat in the corner, near her bathroom door. A collection of vinyl growing dust sat on the bottom shelf of the stand it sat on.

“Damn my bad, cupcake.” She hated that. She hated how he called her ‘cupcake’ or ‘sweetie’. She hated how it sounded, hated how it made her feel, hated how degrading it was. She handed him a plain gray sweater, saying nothing, not making eye contact. “Thanks,” he took it from her, his hand grazing hers in an unnecessary manner. Without warning, he pulled his shirt over his head and fumbled with the t-shirt she had handed him. He was just standing in her room basically half naked.

“Oh,” she said, turning around and facing the opposite of him. He laughed from behind her. She wished she had chosen her alone time. Or at least asked to see the movie later in the day as she was going on nine hours of being with the boy.

“I’m decent now.” She turned to face her dresser again, filing through her shirt drawer looking for a long sleeve to wear under her sweater. Even with the chilly fall weather, movie theaters cranked their ac all the way up. “I’m gonna change in the bathroom,” she shut the door after getting the last word of her sentence out, thankful to have a moment to herself.

While she was undressing her upper half, she heard a pounding on the door, the bells clanking against the wood. “Hey are you okay?” she shouted.

“Yeah,” he yelled back to her, “there’s some guy at your door, should I open it?”

Some guy? She couldn’t think of anyone who would drop by randomly on a Tuesday afternoon, other than Jax but he knew she didn’t need a ride so it couldn’t have been him, right?

“Gimme a sec,” she tugged her long sleeve over her head and opened the bathroom door, pulling her hair out of the neckline.

She covered the eyehole for a moment before briefly looking into it, but someone was covering the other side of it. She glanced back at Ross, shrugging her shoulders, silently asking what she should do.

“Here, I got it,” he approached her and she stepped back to give him some space. He cracked the door open slightly, just enough space for his head to be visible from the other side. “Hey can I help you?”

The door was pushed open, Ross groaning at the force from the man on the other side. Harry stomped his way in the apartment, looking around the space before his eyes landed on her. His gaze softened. He didn’t say anything. Neither did she.

“Dude, you can just fucking come into someones house man,” Ross said from behind him. Harry rolled his eyes, turning to face the significantly smaller boy.

“Don’t fucking call me dude, who the fuck are you?” Harry yelled as he approached him, towering over him and backing him into the wall.

Ross swallowed, his back hitting the brick wall. “I-uh, who are you?” he retorted, Harry chuckled.

“What are you doing here?” y/n spoke up, taking a step closer to him. Harry turned, locking eyes with her again.

He didn’t have an explanation that didn’t make him sound insanely jealous and possessive of someone who wasn’t even his. “I, y/n, I just wanted to make sure you were safe. I’m sorry.”

“Can we go outside for a second?” Harry nodded, his hand on the doorknob waiting for her to come with him. He closed the door behind him. She didn’t say anything, a sad look on her face.

Harry’s hand twitched beside him, wanting so desperately to pull her into him to hold her or even to touch her cheek again. She poked at the chipped nail polish on her nails.

“I still haven’t made any banana bread,” she broke the silence. A smile made a home on Harry's lips.

“Hmm, that’s exactly why I came, how’d you know?” she smiled up at him, a gleam in her eyes. Harry’s smile wavered. His hands twitched again, his subconscious begging him to run, begging him to stay far away from the sweet angel that stood in front of him.

“ ‘S just a guess,” her head dipped down again, her arms coming to wrap around her torso as the autumn air nipped away at her.

They stood in silence for a moment, none of the two knowing what to say after weeks of no contact. Harry felt he couldn’t ask her about the morning shift or about the things Jax has told him about her life recently; he wasn’t invited into that part. Rather, he uninvited himself to that part of her life when he sent he Jaxs information then proceeded to go back and forth with blocking and unblocking her number.

“We’re going to see Priscilla, it starts pretty soon.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t know you were an Elvis fan.”

“I’m not,” she was quick to disprove the claim, “it’s not about him, it’s about his child bride.” Harry chuckled.

“Hm, I’m not too fond of the ‘Viva Las Vegas’ bastard either,” she smiled, wryly. “I’ll head out then, I hope you enjoy your night,” he turned on his heel, she followed behind him, meeting him at the stairs.

“Harry,” he turned, surprised with how close she was. “If you’d like, um, you can come over after I get home.”

“I’d love to,” he grinned at her.

“Harry?” They were so close to each other.

“Yes?”

“You promise you’ll come back?” His heart broke, practically shattered at that. He shook his head fervently.

“Yes. Yes, y/n, I’ll come back once you tell me to.”

“I’ll see you soon, Harry.”

“I’ll see you soon, y/n.”

Harry descended down the stairs, she stayed in her spot, peering over the railing to watch him walk away. She hoped he’d keep his promise. The front door to her apartment creaked, Ross peeking his head out, warily.

“He gone?” she nodded, heading back into her space. “Who was that? He’s scary as shit, cupcake. How do you know him?” he asked, bewildered by the mysterious man who practically burst into her home.

“Ya know that friend who owes me a favor?” He nodded. “That’s him. He’s kinda temperamental, I’m sorry,” a pursed smile was sent to him as an apologetic gesture.

“Kinda is an understatement, sweetheart.” There it was again. A nickname coated in degradation. One she hated coming from him, but if Harry or Jax had said it, it would absolutely be and feel different.

“Are you ready to go, I’m sure we’re gonna miss all the trailers and you know what’ll happen if I don’t get my blue and red Icee.” she joked.

“First, I truly doubt something bad is going to happen to the county of Placerville and second its blue raspberry and cherry. Not blue, not red.” She dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

“Yeah whatever, let’s go dipshit.” His laugh boomed through the room as she picked her keys off the counter.

+++

Y/n was sobbing. Her heart caught in her throat as Elvis was forcing Priscilla to pack a bag to take to her parents after she confronted him about finding a love note in his jacket pocket. He was terrifying and the movie just reinforced how poorly she thought of the beloved singer.

A hand grazed her knee, finding a place on her thigh. She was stunned, not daring to move her leg in any way. The thumb moving from side to side, a reassuring gesture, sure, but coming from someone she didn’t think of in any way other than a coworker; it was unwanted, unjustified. She swallowed back the acid building in her throat and reached for her watered down Icee, sipping on the cool liquid. She still hadn’t moved the hand and she wouldn’t for the remainder of the film, far too scared of potential consequences.

A flood of relief washed over her when the movie ended and the lights returned. A halo of light above their heads woke the sleeping boy next to her.

He stretched out, “ ‘s over?” she nodded.

“I take it you weren’t a fan?”

He shook his head, “I don’t think I was the target audience,” he shrugged, “you liked it?”

She nodded, “I loved it.”

They stood from their seats and headed for the exit, she tossed her melted Icee remnants and popcorn before they exited the building entirely. It was completely dark out and pouring. They ran to his car, trying to outrun the downpour embracing them.

Silence covered them as they sat in the car, the heater spat out cold air before finally heating the space to a more comfortable temperature. He put the car into reverse and sped out of the parking lot. Soft indie music played through the speakers, no artists y/n had particularly liked but she wouldn’t complain as she wasn’t the one driving.

His hand found a home on her thigh again, higher than the previous unwanted gesture was. She glared down at it for a moment before grabbing his hand in between her thumb and pointer finger, moving it so it sat on the gear shift instead. He chuckled.

“Sorry, thought it was fine since,” he turned to glance at her before looking back out the windshield, “you didn’t move it earlier.”

She stared at her hands in her lap, swallowing the saliva building up in her mouth. “I, um,” she pulled her lips into her mouth for a moment, “I’m not really interested in you like that. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” he took a sharp breath, before laughing. “I’m really bad at reading people. I’m sorry, I got the wrong idea.” Relief washed over her.

“No don’t worry, I’m also extremely passive and I can’t really express myself like I should, I don't know.”

“Well, it's both our faults then,” he smiled at her and she sent one right back.

Harry watched as he put his car into park, having made it back to her apartment complex before them as his car went much faster than his beat up civic. He watched as y/n reached over the middle console to hug the boy and watched as she got out to ascend the stairs. Now he would simply wait to get a text to invite him up.

Y/n opened the door, greeted by her bells, and flicked on the lights. She ran around her studio, trying to tidy up quickly, and lit a pumpkin spice candle before running into the bathroom to take a quick shower, desperate to wash the rain scent off her (and Ross’ lingering touch).

Harry sat in his car, his fingers dancing along the dashboard impatiently as he wondered what was taking her so long. Naturally, his mind went to the worst case scenario; someone broke in and is holding her hostage or she fell and twisted her ankle and is screaming on the floor from the debilitating pain or-.

His phone chimed, her message casting a glow onto his face.

Y/n:

i’m home now you can head over whenever:)

His anxiety was alleviated from her text message, a confirmation of her safety and wellbeing. He immediately got out of his car, the warmth from the heated seats almost disappeared instantly with how cold and wet it was. And like her, he ascended the stairs to knock on the door.

On the inside, y/n was confused by the knocking, not realizing it was Harry with how quickly the knocking happened after she sent the text. She peered through the peephole and immediately opened the door, not wanting him to stay in the cold much longer. The bells on the handle sang.

“Bells?” She nodded. “Hm.”

“It’s a safety thing, I guess.”

“You don’t feel safe?” He stepped closed to her as she shut the door behind him.

“Well, it’s not that I don’t feel safe, I just wanted extra precaution,” she shrugged.

“If you don’t feel safe I’ll have Jax stay in the area and have hourly check ins or we can relocate you or-”

“Relocate? Harry, no it’s not that big of a deal I just wanted to be able to hear the door from the shower.” Harry glared at her.

“Not that big of a deal? Y/n, your safety is a huge deal.”

“Can we drop it? Please, I don’t want to talk about it,” she approached her bed and sat down, picking up a decorative pillow to mess with the trim.

Harry sighed and sat next to her on the bed, moving her hair from her face. She looked at him, the glimmer in her eyes returning. The little voice in Harry’s head returned, even louder, shouting at him to leave her alone; to get out of there and never look back.

“We can drop it, but you need to tell me if you ever feel unsafe, little lamb, understood?” She nodded. “Y/n,” he said in a warning tone, “tell me you understand, please.

She rolled her eyes, smiling. “Yes, Harry, I understand.”

“Thank you.”

“How’d you get here so fast?” Harry froze, trying to come up with an excuse but blanking, just staring at her for a minute while his mind went a million miles an hour. “Harry?”

“I, I kinda just stayed in the parking lot while you were gone.”

She laughed. “No way, you waited more than two hours? Just sitting in your car?” he hesitantly nodded, a blatant lie.

He absolutely did not wait in his car outside of her apartment. He followed them to the theater, bought himself a ticket to the same movie, and sat at the very top with his head low, and watched them the entire time. He watched as her shoulders shook from crying, watched as she ate her candy and drank her Icee, watched when the boy she was with, whose name he never bothered learning, placed his hand on her lap. He watched them leave the theater with anger coursing through him.

“You didn’t have to do that, Harry.” He shrugged, not caring to continue this conversation.

“Why are you on mornings now?”

She sighed, “I got scared,” her tongue was thick in her mouth, scared to cry again if it resulted in him leaving once more and ending contact for another month. His hand met her back, lightly rubbing the tender flesh beneath his rough hand. Her hands fumbled with the zipper on the pillow. “The night we met really freaked me out. Like when you left, I swore someone was still here watching me. It was freaky. And the next morning I was so drained, I think that's why I forgot Jax was coming to get me. And then the time changed and I got even more scared cause I would just basically be working in the dark the entire shift and I don’t know I just psych myself out sometimes,” she ended her tangent, partially forgetting to breathe throughout it.

Harry’s hand moved to tangle in her hair, slightly gripping the strands between his fingers, before removing his touch from her all together.

“And you forgot your phone,” he joked, a soft smile on his lips.

She pulled her lips in her mouth, exhaling a laugh through her nose, “and I forgot my phone.”

Silence dawned on them once more. A comfortable one, neither needing to speak as they basked in each other's presence.

She scooted closer to Harry, her head making contact with his shoulder. Harry gulped at the contact, unsure of what to do with himself. His hand raised, touching her cheek gently. They sat there, in silence, for what felt like an eternity. A comfortable, blissful eternity.

She had fallen asleep on his shoulder, her breathing became evenly paced and softer. Harry laid her down under her sheets, and saw himself out after kissing her forehead and blowing out her candle.

+++

Y/n was having an okay day, nothing bad had happened at work, so far. No rude customers, no shitty tips and best of all, no training needed to be done. So, yes her day was going well. Until she received a message from Harry saying they needed to have a talk and that he’ll be picking her up. He was consistent with punctuation, but the period at the end of his sentence horrified her. She was a sweaty, anxious mess her entire shift.

She reread the message every ten minutes. Time was moving so slow. Her anxiety was eating away at her, like it had been starving for months and had finally found a body to ravage to satiate the hunger. She had four cigarettes during her shift.

Harry leaned against the passenger door of his car, waiting for y/n’s shift to end. She could feel his eyes on her every time she passed by the window at the front to attend to her last table, she knew he was watching her; he was so attentive. It made her sick.

When her shift finally ended, after what felt like an eternity and a half, y/n pushed the doors open and made her way to Harry. He looked down at her with a smirk. She hoped he couldn’t see her throat bobbing while she swallowed down the excess saliva building in her mouth.

“Ya kept me waiting, little lamb.” he opened the car door for her and she could feel her coworkers staring out the window at the pair.

“‘M sorry.” She sat on the heated seat, placing her bag on the floor between her feet. Harry leaned over her to connect her seatbelt. “Thank you,” she muttered before Harry closed the door.

“How was your shift?” he asked as he buckled himself in.

“S’fine.” she mumbled.

“Angel,” her heart pounded against her sternum, you could practically hear her heartbeat in the silence. “What have I told you about mumbling?”

She bit her lip, gnawing on it before answering. “You don’t understand it.” she practically whispered.

“That’s right, little lamb. Now, why do you keep doing it?”

She could cry, sob and dry heave even. Fall to her knees and beg for forgiveness as if she had angered a god. “I don’t know, I’m sorry.” she fiddled with her fingers. Harry’s hand grabbed her own and pinched the inside of her palm, a squeal escaping her lips. He laughed.

“Don’t apologize, ‘m just messing with you,” he smiled at her as he parked his car, already at her complex. He was quick to undo his seatbelt and get out, running to her side to open the door for her. “After you.” he gestured to the stairs, allowing her to go in front of him.

She opened the door, her bells greeting the two. She stood by the door as Harry took a seat in her chair (it finally was free of clean clothing).

“Can you tell me what you want to talk to me about? Please?”

“Eager?” she nodded.

“More scared than anything.” her breathing was heavy.

“Oh, my sweet lamb.” remorse covered his face, so sorry and upset he had made a literal angel wait in apprehension. He stood from his spot on the chair and moved to stand before her. Without hesitation, he held her face in the palm of his hand, her nuzzling into the warmth of his touch. “I’m sorry I scared you, didn’t mean to, angel.”

“S’okay, Harry, I know.”

“Sit with me,” he removed his hand from her face, instead reaching for her hand to sit with him on the chair. He sat and patted his lap, an invitation for her.

“There’s not enough space for the both of us.”

He tugged on her arm, “s’fine, just sit.”

“Harry, that chair is 100 years old, I’m not breaking my favorite antique piece.”

“Y/n,” his tone laced with warning.

“Harry,” she whined back. “Just sit on the bed with me please.” she pouted.

And, of course, Harry would give in, standing up with her hand still in his and sitting on the bed to please her. Their thighs were touching with the proximity of their bodies, y/n hoped he couldn’t hear her heartbeat or feel the sweat coating her palm.

“Can you tell me now, please.” she rested her head on his shoulder, Harry could hear her pouting as she spoke.

He sighed, squeezing her hand in his. “I feel very,” he paused, trying to gather his thoughts so as to not scare her with how he truly felt. “I feel very protective of you, y/n.”

“Wow that’s a shocker,” she interrupted, sarcastically.

“Y/n” he warned, again.

“Sorry. Go ‘head.”

“No interruptions, please.” she nodded, “Good girl.” she grinned, “I feel very protective of you and I thought leaving you alone would make it not as intense but it definitely only made it worse, angel. I just, I need to know you’re safe and okay and I have no idea why but I just need to know. Your safety means so much to me, your wellbeing.” he swallowed, taking in a shaky breath. “I need to tell you, or warn you, about what I do.”

She lifted her head, making eye contact with him, a puzzled look replacing her previously smitten expression.

“I kinda sell drugs.” Still, she maintained eye contact. He looked at her, waiting for a response.

“Is that it?”

“What?” Harry asked, confused.

“You sell drugs?” he nodded. “Oh okay.”

Still, Harry stared at her, bewildered by her nonchalant response. “You’re okay with that?”

“Harry, there’s like ten people in this town with nothing to do, literally everyone deals or buys. Not a big deal.” she shrugged a shoulder, her fingers messing with his rings.

Still, he stared at her, his expression growing concerned. “It’s not just weed, y/n.” She laughed, his eyes were bulging, his jaw slack and a furrow in his brow.

“I can assume it’s not just weed, you won’t be making much with just weed here.”

“Your casualness with what I’m telling you is concerning.”

Her smile faded, “I'm sorry, what do you want me to say?”

He ran his hand through his hair, dropping his gaze to their hands entwined. “I don’t know. I just didn’t expect you to be so calm.”

“I used to do coke,” she shrugged. Harry’s eyes snap to hers, squeezing her hand a little more. “I had really bad issues maybe, like, last September. It was really bad, the withdrawals were insane but one of my friends' brothers had, um,” she swallowed down the acid building in her throat. "He got some laced with fent and he passed. My friend only got worse because of it and the guy who sold him it didn’t even care, he was just like ‘well that happens sometimes’, such a fucking asshole like he had just killed someone and that didnt even spark anything in him! I stopped after that cause I was so scared,” she admitted. “My friend never got better, he had to move in with his parents and they forced him to go to rehab but that didn’t even help.”

“I’m sorry.” was all Harry could offer.

She looked up at him through her lashes, “I trust you, Harry. I do. But if you’re selling anything laced,” she shook her head, her breathing picking up.

“I’m not, angel I promise I’m not, I’d never.” he let go of her hand, placing both hands on the sides of her face, forcing her to look at him.

“If you ever work with Liam Payne I’ll kill you.” He laughed at her threat, the name going over his head at the idea of a girl her size trying to cause harm to a man of his stature. “Don’t laugh at me! I’m being serious, Harry. If you ever work with him I’ll never wanna see you again. Liam is a terrible person. I don’t want you to get involved in that too.”

He deadpanned, “Liam Payne?” she nodded. “How do you know him?”

“Who do you think sold the laced batch?” Harry was furious. He removed his hands from her face, standing up and letting out a frustrated groan. “What’s wrong? Do you know him?”

“No,” he responded immediately. “Never met him, Niall was telling me about him. There was a shootout the other day and we think it was him, probably was that stupid fuck. He could be the reason we fucking get caught! Fuck!” he shouted, the girl flinched, her gaze returning to her hands.

“I'm sorry I brought it up, I didn't mean to make you mad at me.”

He stared at her, his breathing heavy. She couldn’t look at him, wouldn’t dare to make eye contact with him out of fear of him taking it out on her. She knew deep down, however, he would never lay a finger on her; never cause any harm to her whatsoever. But the thought was still prevalent.

“ M'not mad at you, never at you, little one. Look at me,” she looked up at him, her eyes meeting the green ones she adored. He sat back on the bed, taking her face in his hands one more. “not at you at all. Promise.” she nodded, grabbed his hands from her face and nuzzled her face into his neck, her hands gripping his jacket. “I’m sorry for scaring you, won't do it again.” he apologized as he rubbed her back.

“Thank you.” she kissed the side of his neck, momentarily feeling his pulse with her lips. Harry’s heart fluttered in his chest.

Harry wished he could stay like that forever, with her warmth against his, her face nestled in his neck. Peace was finally in his grasp, holding onto it so delicately like a fine piece of china, far too scared to drop it and destroy the delicate art, but it was never in his nature to be deft. He’d take what he could get, and if this was all he would be offered, he would accept it with open arms and a half empty heart. He longed to be full again.

and know that one day, you and I could be okay.

tags: @tiaamberxx @jerseygirlinca @n0vaj3an @tpwk-mia @indierockgirrl @buckybarnessimpp @hannah9921 @love-letters-to-uranus @ribbonknives @annesauriol @moneybaby07

if your @ is in red the tag doesn’t work. thanks for reading and supporting ₊˚⊹♡

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rainylana · 1 year

Text

“Kiss me.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: eddie is having a bad day, so he looks to you for comfort.

warnings: bully!eddie, mean!eddie, slight perv!eddie mentions of smut and masturbation, mentions of eddie’s home life.

Eddie was tired, mentally and physically. Tired of his life, his friends and his fucked up family, apart from Wayne of course. He was tired of school, his band. Just tired. He was tired of living everyday pretending to be happy when he was only miserable. The trauma from his childhood was haunting him, the scars from his dad a big, nasty reminder of growing up.

The only thing that was keeping him going was you. Ironic, when it reality, you hated him. He treated you terribly. He knew it, he loved it. It was the only way he knew how to express himself. He fantasized about you, thought about how your cunt would feel with his cock penetrating inside of you, how it would feel to kiss your lips and pull your hair.

He got off treating you the way he did, being mean. He stole your things, pulled at your hair and tripped you in the halls, made fun of you in class in front of everyone. He loved to make you cry. He never once thought about having a civil conversation, asking you out on a date or just being openly friendly. He didn’t want that with you. Growing up was difficult. He learned how to express himself in different ways unlike everyone else. Wayne tried his best to raise him honorably, to respect people, especially women, and treat them right, but Eddie was complicated.

Deep, deep down, he was a good person with a good heart, he just didn’t know how to share it with anyone.

He wasn’t having a good day whatsoever. Everything was pissing him off. You were pissing him off. Your smile, your laughter. The fact you were obviously having an enjoyable day. He wanted you to be miserable like him, so he needed the chance to get you alone.

He sat in a seat in the auditorium, not participating in choir practice for the third time that week. His feet were propped up on the seat in front of him, arms crossed with tatted flesh and bracelets, clad in dark clothing. He watched you sing with your peers, chin high and that ugly pink bow that sat on the back of your head. He wanted to ruin you, and he hated that he was growing hard while watching you.

He loved your little stockings, your knee high socks and white shoes. The little bows you wore and the gold, cross necklace around your neck. You portrayed innocence, but Eddie knew better. He could practically smell the way you dripped for him.

When the bell rang and class was dismissed, Eddie stood, stalking over to you slowly and predatorily, like a hunter and it’s prey. You were left behind by your friends while you gathered your things, turning on your heel to wave goodbye to the teacher. He internally scoffed. Always such a goody-two shoes.

You gasped when you came face to face with him, left alone in the empty auditorium. Your face melted into fear, the look that he loved.

“What is it, Eddie?” You tried not to let your voice tremble. “I already gave you the homework for english.”

He shamelessly looked you over. “You seem like you’re having a good day.”

You gulped, knowing he was about to ruin it. “I am.”

He smirked. “Couldn’t help but notice you were watching me over there.”

“I was not.” You defended, adjusting the hold on your books. “I was singing.”

“Sure,” He stared at the open exposure of your chest.

“My eyes are up here.” You tapped your head, spinning on your heal to walk away.

He let you get a few feet away before stopping you again. “Don’t you have something for me?”

You stopped, shoulders dropping as your hand went to your hair. You turned to glare at him, pulling out your pink ribbon and tossing it to him. “You are so weird. What the hell do you do with those anyway?”

He watched the way your hair cascaded down your shoulders, and he looked down to the new silk ribbon he could add to his collection. He always made you give them to him.

“I like annoying you.” He smelled it before putting it in his pocket, making your face flush.

He smirked. “If it bothers you so much than stop wearing them? Ever think of that?”

You could, but that would mean you wouldn’t be getting as much attention.

“Whatever.” You brushed off. “Can I go?”

“I don’t know, can you?”

You groaned, which turned into a gasp when he grabbed your arm, yanking you toward him. “Eddie!”

He stared at you long and hard, holding you against his body firmly. Your breath was heavy, eyes fluttering rapidly as your eyes were locked.

“If I told you I wrap your sweet little ribbons around my cock, what would you say?” He whispered.

Your eyes widened, lips parting in shock.

“If I told you,” His other arm wrapped around your back, trapping you in his grip. “That I think of you scuffing your knees for me? That I get off to making you hate me? What would you say?”

Your eyes filled with tears, your heart racing and face flushing. You hated that heat rushed to your thighs.

He searched your face, looking for something, you didn’t know what. Answers, maybe? An explanation to why he felt the way he did? Why he had to grow up the way he did, experience such a horrific home life and father. Why was he falling in love with you? And why, damnit, couldn’t he tell you.

“Kiss me.” He said softer, not letting go of you.

It wasn’t an order or a demand, for once, Eddie was soft with you. It made you throb. Your eyes fluttered closed and you stood on your tip toes. You shakily placed your lips on his, giving him a delicate kiss. He imagined kissing you many times, but it was never like this. It was soft, gentle. You moved your lips with his like soft ocean currents.

When you pulled apart, he let you go slowly, releasing your arms from his tight grip. He was at a loss for words, looking down and avoiding your eyes. He felt so much. For once, he just wished he could tell you how he felt, why he did the things he did. Maybe kissing you was his way.

“Eddie-” You began to say before he cut you off.

“Don’t.” He shut his eyes, overwhelming.

But Eddie was Eddie. He was complicated, an over thinker. He made things much more difficult than they needed to be.

He looked at you, a mixture of sadness and anger taking over his features as he turned to walk away. “Just don’t.”

#lana’s shit post #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson headcanons #bully!eddie

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missblissy · 7 months

Text

Bitter

Summary: A little drabble that takes place after the events of the game. In an intimate moment, Astarion has feelings of disgust within himself, and can't help but break down, talking to you about how he feels in his own skin. You stay supportive and help him through it.

Warnings: mentions of sex/domestic trauma, and panic attacks, but no actual smut. :) Only angst. Just angst. :)))

A/N: Hey hey! This is my first Astarion X Reader! I have been sucked in and now I'm just another one of his girlies :') I used a GN!Tav with no mentions of race/class/gender whatsoever. I really wanted to explore Astarion's sexual trauma, how he deals with it, and how he feels about it. I like to think Astarion desperately wants to be whatever he thinks "normal" is, and that he has a lot of shame and pained feelings towards not being able to be whatever this "normal" is. So I wanted to give him some angsty love/hurt and comfort. Enjoy!

Bitter. Like sour brandy. A perpetuating ick that crawled with insect-hooked feet into his skin. The itchy pain of ghostly memories was hot on his flesh. The crawling and coiling were unconditional. The buzzing of past words, actions, and regrets all flooded his mind. His body moved with a mind of its own in a sheer thought of panic. Moving. Repulsed. Unwanted even. But it still happened. Bittering the moment, souring the taste in his mouth, clutching at his undead heart with a rage he didn’t know he had, so soft and subtle that it built like a breeze over the ocean, hitting him like a typhoon.

But no sign foretold that in the sudden jerk and pull back of his own hand from yours. No longer interlocked. The recoil of his body from instincts rather than thought or sound mind. How he fell away from you, not into you. Both surprised him, his internal rage, and his body betraying him. A breath hitched in his throat as he was pulled back to the dimly lit room of reality.

Where was he again...? His mind was foggy, far way, but yet still brim and bright with paranoia. Flush and festering with one too many distant memories.

“Star-bite?” Your voice was always soothing… Enough to pull him from his mind. The fog far from leaving his eyes traveled with ease across his face in the dark room. No light was needed for you to see that.

The honey worry in your words where enough for his eyes to meet yours despite his shame to look away. It pained him even more with the love welling in those sweet pearls and staring up at him with nothing but patience. Seemingly something he didn’t have. A tender hand lifted to his head, “Are you okay?” You asked. He flinched away. Again. Not even twice now in five minutes. You didn't pull back, however, but rather left your palm open with patience.

Astarion closed his eyes and leaned his cheek into your hand for only a second as he tried to ground himself. Self-hatred bubbled in him. Embarrassment. Shame. It was all the same feeling at this point and it was unbearable.

He sat up and back on his legs, no longer looming over you as the moonlight bathed him in a glow. Glossy with an otherworldly shine you stared up at him, skin exposed to the night. And watched as his shoulders fell with a deep sigh of frustration as he threw his hands to his face as if to hide while shaking his head, “I’m sorry-” He started. You slowly sat up as well, a blanket bathing over your own equally nude body in a half attempt to cover up.

“I’m sorry.” He said it again, “I.. I Don’t know what came over me,” He tried to laugh it off, the fact he blanked out, flinched from your very touch, and found himself disgusted even with the person he loved most. You understood… This was hard for him. Sex. Intimacy. Anything that related to his body. So you so desperately wanted to comfort him.

Which could be a hard thing to do sometimes. Despite that, you tried to reassure him. This wasn't the first time this has happened, “You don’t have to do this, It’s fine-”

“It’s not fine!” Astarion snipped with a whisper that could have been a scream, “I’m… not fine.”

Bitter. It was always bitter on his tongue even when he laughed like it was as sweet as syrup before it turned into wine, “I don’t want to be… like this,” His voice carried on as he gestured to his entire being, “Every time. Every single time it doesn’t matter how much you love me I still feel disgusted in my own skin and that’s not fine!” He finally snapped out with a subtle sob, “I want to be able to do more than look and love you from an arm’s reach without wanting to burn my bones and erase the memory of everything I’ve ever been through every time I’m simply just touched by another!”

There wasn’t an easy way to hide the pain on your face. The bitter truth. Even you knew it and it still stung fresher than a wasp’s stinger on a knuckle. No amount of love you gave Astarion could fix the damage done to him over two centuries of torment. No kind words, no simple nothings, or gestures could undo any of it. Nor erase it. Even dead, Cazador would always be with him.

Astarion’s voice picked up, another twisted, sad, and painful laugh, “It sickens me… It kills me,” He sighed, “That even no matter how much I love you, adore you, want you, and need you…” Silver-flowing tears trickled along his cheeks, flicking with faints of pink, betraying his true nature. A vampire’s bloody tears never lied. A sour sniffle sucked back up into his nose as he spoke again, “No matter how much I care I can’t be fixed. I’ll always fucking be like this!”

He felt so trapped in his own skin. Disgusted with his own body. Hateful towards the person he was forced to become and betrayed by the thought of the person he could have been. It was a bitter cycle. And to think… This all started as a lovely night. But Astarion could just add this to the long list of many other things he’s ruined.

You sat on your knees, scooting just an inch ever so closer, “Astarion?” You held out your hand for him, palm up, open and there for him to take if he wanted. And of course, he did, “You will always be broken.” His eyes shot open and he stared at you, surprised by your honest take, “But you will also always be loved and cared for even if you are broken,” You squeezed his hand lightly and gave a soft smile, “And I don’t mind that you’re broken,”

Something told him you were lying but Astarion knew better than to believe that. It didn’t stop his little scoff as he averted his red gaze, “Even if I can’t fuck you?” Bitter. It was in his voice, the way he spat the words and laughed by adding, “I know I’m supposed to be this amazing, beautiful, and skilled piece of work but I’m no-”

“You’re not supposed to be anything,” You softly interrupted him, knowing exactly where he was about to go with this tangent, “You’re only supposed to be whatever you want to be. Not what others have made you out to be.”

He still couldn’t meet your gaze, but you could see the doubt in his eyes and the subtle pout of frustration on his lips, “Even if I don’t know what I want to be?” He spoke more softly this time, like it was mostly to himself so he could finally speak it out loud, “... Or who I am?”

“Absolutely,” You promised him. It broke your heart every time he had these moments, how hurt and torn he must feel inside you could only imagine. You leaned a little closer, enough to still give him his space, “I’m not with you for the sex, Astarion, it was never about the sex. So I could go the rest of my life waiting, or not waiting, or simply just being there,” You reached up and cupped his cheek again and pulled ever so gently to get him to meet your gaze, “You… Do. Not… have to have sex with me to keep me to stay with you,” A little glimmer in your eye sparked with affection, "I'll say it as many times as you need to hear it, you are enough just as yourself. And I'll say it forever, I love you for you, and that includes even when stuff like this happens."

That got the littlest smile out of him. He brushed his cheek deeper into your palm and found himself even leaning into your embrace, “You know I want to,” He huffed, “I just don’t think… I can… not without this feeling being there, that is," It was still bitter. He closed his eyes, head resting by your shoulder, nearly hiding in the crook of your neck, “I don’t want to be this way. It’s like I'm not even free. Like my time in the sun was worth nothing in the long wrong,” He quickly looked up at you and corrected himself, “I know that’s not true,” A bitter smile, “It just feels that way, sometimes,”

Your smile, bitter too, but sweet, with a sad nuzzle of your nose against his in a loving and comforting gesture, “I know, Star-bite,” Then a little kiss to his nose for reassurance, “But this,” And a tight squeeze of his hand, referring to just this simple act alone as you spoke, “You can do. And this is more than enough,”

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion ancunin #angst #bg3 fanfiction #fanfic #pale elf #bg3 astarion #haha not me writing my first fic in YEARS #hahaaaa #aaaa #:)#no body look at me im in my feels #I just need some astarion angst to heal me its fine

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phoenixblaze1412 · 7 months

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Webttore relationship Hcs ?? i am normal i am normal (lying) - 🐓

I too am normal (lying) when it comes to Webttore anon^^

Webttore is the one who confessed to you first... rather gruesomely.

He just held out a still-beating heart towards you before exclaiming that his heart belongs to you. You held the organ in your hands, blood dripping down your fingers as you stared at him in surprise.

He reassured you that it wasn't his heart. You pitied the poor soul that he had to gut out just to grab the organ before giving it to you. But since it's Webttore, you were used to his crazy experiments. Surprisingly, you liked him as well and reciprocated his feelings.

You were immediately promoted as his personal assistant instead of being the harbingers' secretary, he would prefer to have you by his side.

He made you do a blood pact with him to make sure you don't even try to leave him.

He also may have a vial of your blood hanging somewhere in his outfit as if it was a vision. Don't worry though, he gave you his blood as well and you're currently wearing that blood-filled vial as an earring like him.

He would even proudly show you off to the others that you're his partner, he would always have a hand either on your waist or holding your own.

This man has no shame whatsoever. He isn't embarrassed to kiss you in front of others. He would even nip at your neck before sticking his tongue out to anyone who would be watching.

Whenever he is tired, he would be found sleeping on the couch, a book he was reading earlier was covering his face instead of his mask. But now with you by his side, he will just up and drag you to the couch, cuddle you and sleep with his head buried in your neck.

He would push you out of the laboratory whenever he and his segments would be experimenting on a human test subject. He already knows your tolerance for the sight and scent of blood but he wouldn't want you to see him have fun with the subject's viscera. He may be a mad scientist but he has a reputation to uphold as a gentleman towards his lover.

You know how he would always be stressed out whenever his experiments either failed or lacked the materials so congratulations! You get to be his stress-reliever!

There's one action that Dottore will do to you relieve his stress. Squish you.

But where? He has two things he likes to grab and squish.

Your cheeks and ass.

Whenever he would be stressed due to annoyance, he would be squishing your cheeks and rant to you how useless the people working for him are. He would later laugh at you when you told him your cheeks were aching from how he kept squishing and pulling at it.

Then there are those times where he would be quiet and stare off into space as he thinks on how to solve the problems in his experiments, how fortunate that you were there beside him and arranging some documents. His hand would subconsciously grab your ass and squish and grope. Hearing the noises you would make because of his actions actually helps him focus and think straight. He would do it a lot.

Dottore is a biter. He likes biting and nipping at your flesh whenever the two of you were alone. He liked how you would whimper under his hold, all the bite marks he left on your neck trailing down your shoulders would leave him grinning. Your pain is his pleasure but he wouldn't do anything very painful that would leave you to die in his arms, he wouldn't want that.

Under all his crazy and silly antics, Dottore is insecure.

There would be times where he would be staring at the corner and wondering if you would ever leave him for someone else if he wasn't a psycho.

Reassurance is the key to help Dottore.

Always make sure to remind him that you love him for who he is. Shower him in your affections until he's drowning in your love, figuratively. He'll be like a cat, nuzzling into you and just holding onto you tightly as if he were afraid you would disappear if he let you go.

His love languages are physical touch and words of affirmation.

He also gets jealous easily. If he sees someone, man or woman, even placing a hand on you, he would be pulling you away from that person before giving them one of those grins that he does whenever he's about to experiment on someone and telling them to 'kindly fuck off'.

"Honestly, darling.. have you even noticed the way they were looking at you? I'll make sure to remember their face and make them my next test subject!"

He immediately stopped ranting when you gave him a kiss on his cheek. His face turning a shade of red as he looked away for a moment before looking back at you with a scowl.

"Are you being serious? That wasn't even considered a kiss!"

He would immediately pull you inside his laboratory before pinning you to a wall and pressing his lips against yours.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #dottore #dottore x reader #zandik x reader #il dottore #female reader #gender neutral reader #il dottore x reader

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otrtbs · 2 months

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Twitter people complaining about art heist baby and how u gave the women no personality whatsoever

there is not a single fanfiction in the marauders fandom that someone on twitter hasn't complained about. i know that this ask wasn't sent with good intentions whatsoever (along with the slew of other ones that you or others have been sending me since december) but i am going to say this. one time.

to paint ALL of the women in art heist baby as underdeveloped w no personality is extremely reductive. to say that all of the male characters in art heist baby were perfectly developed and fully fleshed-out characters is also reductive. i DO think that some of the characters are undeveloped in art heist. but not exclusively the women. to make that claim as some sort of moral argument/virtue signalling call for justification on why art heist is bad or why you are so much better than somebody else for not liking it is ridiculous and i would argue, unfounded. it is okay not to like things just because you don't like them.

furthermore, fanfiction is a place for BEGINNERS and AMATEURS to try out writing and to explore storytelling as hobby. nobody is going to be perfect at it their first go, and i certainly wasn't. sometimes it's not an "art heist baby is misogynist" issue and it's more of a "nat was trying to write 11 different characters all at the same time as a first time writer" issue. some of my characters were undeveloped, yes. but not just the women. but how is this, in any way, encouraging new people, or even repeat fanfic authors, to write stories if the baseline demand is that they be perfect at it? if the initial assumption is that the author has some moral or ethical failing for making common writing mistakes as a beginner? it hardly encourages anyone to try again or to try at all.

at the end of the day, people on twitter are going to complain and pick apart and be generally negative because that's how they get the most interaction and engagement. and i can talk until i'm blue in the face about how consumption of media in any form but ESPECIALLY fanfic consumption is not political praxis. nor is it a substitute for political praxis, but again, the target audience for that rant would not give a fuck. and finally. art heist baby is a jegulus fanfiction first and foremost. of course all the other characters are going to be fucking background side characters. they are not the stars of the show. enough of this.

#asks #art heist baby!#did u get what u want anon? are you pleased now? will people send me this post and tell me it's circulating around twt in 2-3 days perhaps.#everyone should just get better hobbies methinks. y'all have pissed me off so bad.

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stillness-in-green · 30 days

Text

Chapter Thoughts — Chapter 423: One For All vs. All For One

At the request of a few asks, have some chapter thoughts. I will warn everyone in advance that some portions of this post are extremely bitter. This is less salty than it is bile-flavored. It's also not quite as thorough as other posts have been, as my disillusionment with the material limits my willingness to comb the chapter for details to muse about beyond the ones that jump out at me.

None of which is to say that this post is short.

CONTENT WARNING: Confrontational rhetoric about irl prisons and the hypothetical of committing suicide to avoid them. I have strong personal feelings about some of the language I've been seeing from defenders of this chapter and I'm in no mood to prevaricate around them.

o Danger Sense continues to be some real bullshit. My initial response to the leaks was that it was yet another dumb contrivance to make things arbitrarily harder for the villains than equivalent things would be for the Heroes, but reading the official release, I actually just think it's dumb that AFO thinks Danger Sense would have alerted him to his/Shigaraki's failing body at all. Why would it? Danger Sense nominally (nominally) activates based on hostility, and where's the hostility in super-regeneration failing? If it were the remnants of Shigaraki/OFA attacking him from within his own body, that'd be one thing, but that doesn't seem to be what the first few pages are getting at.

Rather, it's just that the power of OFA is being too much for his body, in the same way it was for Deku at the beginning. As if, you know, Shigaraki hasn't already been surgically modified to handle both AFO and, presumably, OFA the whole time. Ujiko only mentioned the former specifically, but given that the plan was always for AFO's new vessel to be able to steal OFA, why wouldn't that also be accounted for? The best I can think is that AFO and Ujiko didn't know that OFA would put such strain on the body, but it's not like AFO couldn't have observed that the quirk's been growing stronger over the generations. If he and Ujiko just failed to calibrate the body correctly, it's a failure of Ujiko's warped genius as a mad biologist and quirk scientist—which again takes us back to dumb contrivances that make things harder for the villains than they would be for the heroes.

o The Kurogiri scene would be very touching if it, you know, actually amounted to something. If it didn't apparently end with Bakugou coming in to murder him. Except we don't even quite get that level of commitment because Kurogiri was falling apart already, so you get the impression that he would have collapsed with or without Bakugou's intervention.

o This in turn makes Bakugou's intervention really silly and pointless. My god, I don't care. I do not care! I do not care about Bakugou pushing Deku two steps forward past a barrier that was already failing. I do not care about Bakugou getting one last stupid victory lap when he's already dramatically endured a severe beating and emotional assault, stood back up from the stupidest heart surgery in the history of fiction, and faced down everything AFO could unleash on him, far outstripping that same villain's climactic efforts fighting All Might in Kamino in what remains AFO's only semi-emotionally resonant battle in the whole manga. As it is, this is just one more ludicrous handwaved magical cross-country teleport like every other one the Heroes have been enjoying through this whole fight.

o Yoichi paying attention to AFO now? Man, imagine if we could have just skipped a bunch of bullshit and gotten this way back in Chapter 368, when Yoichi first told AFO that it was over. Imagine if Vestige Yoichi had something like this when his actual for-real flesh-and-blood brother died, rather than having zero reaction to it whatsoever, not even looking over Deku's psychic shoulder and making a sad face about it.

o It actually kind of offends me that Horikoshi thinks he can get away with taking a stab in the direction of making AFO "sympathetic" now. Now, after he's spent the entire endgame portraying AFO as a two-dimensional Demon Lord who was literally Evil In Utero. And, you know, I'd buy AFO as being Evil In Utero but also capable of loneliness, sure. And I'm even more than on board with interpreting AFO as a man who's spent the last century working 24:7 to convince himself that he's heartlessly evil to deal with the loss of the only family he ever had. But the fact that this statement has been put in the mouth of Deku, who has never indicated the faintest trace of sympathy or understanding, much less compassion for AFO? Fuck off.

o All that Yoichi hyping up Deku's incredible finesse in attacking Shigaraki with the stored-up OFA quirks makes me think is, "Welcome to My Hero Academia, where the stakes are made up and the past doesn't matter!" I am so abominably weary of the endgame's—and the series in general's—willing to just baldly lie to the audience's face about what is actually happening at any given point in the story.

That was the moment when we should have had a response from Yoichi, what with Shigaraki having apparently torn AFO's vestige limb from psychic limb and Bakugou overseeing as the real man rewound out of existence. That Yoichi didn't respond back then just made him seem like he'd written off his brother generations ago; it makes his sorrowful-yet-grateful act in this chapter incredibly unearned. Of course, the actual reason we didn't get a beat like this back then wasn't for any reason consistent with Yoichi's feelings about his brother, nor because Yoichi was too far away to know that the brother he has a psychic bond with was dying. No, it was because Horikoshi was already writing towards this beat instead, so he didn't need to bother. The last time Yoichi looks the real AFO’s way was the chapter-ending Bakugou blast of 409, when it takes the first eight pages of 410 for AFO’s Rewinding death to finalize itself. The Hawks vestige talked more to All For One in his last moments than AFO’s own brother did.

Internal monologue is placed where internal monologue cannot possibly exist. Characters' plans are backdated to points in the story which are completely irreconcilable with how those characters were behaving at the time. Surprise and dismay are pantomimed from characters who are revealed to have anticipated and planned for the very eventuality they're acting so shocked about.

The main character, a kid who was once characterized by his tendency to mutter his thoughts out loud, who had a running gag of tightly packed, densely worded speech/thought balloons, has been reduced to an empty marionette, devoid of internal monologue, scoured of thoughts more complex than the multiplication tables of his quirk combinations. The story can retroactively say that Deku did—intentionally and willfully!—anything it wants and not have to worry about belying its phony stakes and made-for-Twitter cliffhangers because it has deprived Deku of his own capacity to reflect. He can't spoil twist reveals of his own true intentions if the narrative completely locks us out of his head! Nevermind how much of his final battle has occurred inside a shared goddamn psychic space.

All of this has made it totally impossible for me to read the story as a story. Not only do I see the strings, the strings have become all I can see.

Of course the vestiges are back one last time for a dramatic punch, despite multiple chapters swearing up and down to us that we were seeing a big emotional sacrifice play. Last chapter we witnessed the word vomit that was Horikoshi trying to justify Star's pilots surviving their planes blowing up, because that's how determined Horikoshi is that no one on Team Hero actually die. Of course the vestiges came back.

Who cares? Truly, who the fuck cares? I don't care about them; I don't care about whether they'll be back again in the epilogue; I don't care about why Vestige Might and Shinomori are missing from the punch; I don't care about the story finally trying to pretend that anyone in its pages has ever given a single starving river rat's ass about All For One's humanity.

—NOW ENTERING FULL-FLEDGED RANT ZONE—

I care about the only characters who have ever been facing actual stakes in this war: Shigaraki and his followers.

o Even though I care, I don't have it in me to weigh in much about Shigaraki's seeming death here, and especially not his last words. I'm far too jaded about Horikoshi's cliffhangers to think that anything I say now about Shigaraki dying and what it means for both Hero Society and the people Shigaraki leaves behind can be assumed to still be accurate two weeks from now.

I hope it's a fakeout. I hope a chunk of Shigaraki's body fell through Kurogiri's last portal and the hyper-regen can kick back in once he's no longer being assaulted on all sides by the allies of the kid who was trying to “save” him. I hope Horikoshi has one last stupid asspull up his sleeve. I hope for a complete Karma Houdini ending for Shigaraki and the rest of the League.

If we don't get that, it's gonna suck, and it's gonna turn Deku into a fraud and a liar. I don't care if the story wants me to think Shigaraki was saved; I don't care if Deku is satisfied with having saved "that crying boy."

I have not forgotten that "that crying boy" gently refused to accept Deku's "save" when the bell rang to go home. He wanted to go back to his friends, instead; he reiterated his desire to be a Hero for the Villains. The crying child returned to the form of Shigaraki Tomura and then AFO devoured him. Deku didn't save the child then, and he hasn't saved him now.

Remember how Eri didn't count as truly saved from Overhaul until the first time she could smile fully and freely? Guess what stops you from doing that? Right—being fucking dead.

And those touching last words of Shigaraki's won't do Spinner much good on account of him still being brain-damaged from a bunch of extra quirks no one can remove, because the only people who could are, again, fucking dead.

Unless, of course, the theorists are right and Deku is going to be not only not quirkless in the epilogue (meaning all that drama and emotion about sacrificing OFA is going to be another fucking lie), he's going to have the "unified" OFA+AFO quirk via Shigaraki's fistbump. Meaning Deku can remove the extra quirks, presumably just before telling Spinner that Deku saved-via-killing the love of Spinner's life.

Solidarity among outcasts is false and toxic. Everyone should just rely on Heroes more, no matter how much Heroes have failed them in the past.

o One last thing I want to address, less about the canon and more about the reactions I've been seeing elsewhere to the prospect of Shigaraki (and any combination of Dabi, Toga and Spinner) being dead: the idea that being dead is the best possible outcome for them because if they don't die they'll only have to spend the rest of their lives "rotting in jail."

Great job, team; nice message to take home. Everyone pack it in.

Firstly, and to get this out of the way, that is a false binary that totally ignores the long history of Shounen Jump villains getting absurd Karma Houdini endings where they walk off into the sunset free as birds because they've changed their minds and resolved to be better, or at least have decided mass murder is no longer worth their time and effort. (Vegeta wasn't the first mass murderer a Shounen Jump story rewarded with freedom and friendship, nor was he the last.)

But more importantly, that false binary is one that could only be presented by someone who truly does see prison as a fate worse than death. No rehabilitation is possible. No supervised release or house arrests in the care of assigned guardians who want better for them. No lenience can be granted in recognition of the League's mental states; they can be admitted to no mental hospitals focused on therapy.

The "better death than prison" line is the product of a perspective that has never had to seriously consider the prospect of living behind bars. It's a childish imagination of prison as a nebulous Bad Place where Bad People go to be Punished For Being Bad, or a self-righteous fantasy of a cold hell where sinners are sentenced to suffering eternal.

People can tell that the League have suffered too much to sentence them to Forever Bad Times, so they comfort themselves with the idea that at least they died happy, instead of living forever in a pop-culture-informed crayon doodle of concrete and solitude.

I’m not here to tell these readers that there aren't people in the world who would rather die than live under watch for the rest of their lives. I won’t deny that Japanese prisons are bleak and there’s every chance that the prisons in Horikoshi’s fictionalized Japan are even worse. But I am asking people espousing the view that death would be better than incarceration to seriously consider all the angles on what that sentiment means.

If it were you facing the life sentence, are you so sure you would prefer to take your own life? If it were someone you loved who would rather die than face imprisonment, would you help them—hand your older brother the gun, or your younger sister the knife?

Or would you want to hope that they could get some help instead, have an opportunity to connect to something meaningful—find religion, take up reading classic literature, connect with someone inside or via letters? Would you want them to accept the lawful punishment for what they'd done rather than evade it by ending their lives? Would you want them to hold on in case their case could be reassessed someday, that they might eventually finish serving their sentence or be moved to someplace that would focus on helping them rather than punishing them?

Would you want a glorified cop in a cape making that decision for them—or you—based on that cop's ability to "forgive"?

If you think prison is a fate worse than death, why is it okay that people like Gentle Criminal or the Shie Hassaikai Trash Trio have to endure it, while mass murderers, serial killers and insurrectionists like the League get to escape through death? Think of every purse snatcher who gets paraded in front of cameras with their arms bound and their face muzzled; think of Twice at sixteen; think of Mr. Compress now. Do these people deserve to suffer in the kind of torment you're imagining prison must entail? Would it be better for them to die rather than endure it?

If prisons in BNHA's Japan are so terrible as all that, isn't that something the kids should try to fix? Shouldn't that be a part of the mass societal improvement project people are swearing up and down the kids will have nicely sewn up in the epilogue? If the kids aren't going to fix these prisons—these places that take suicide risks like Ending and spit them out worse than ever; these places like Tartarus where the wardens call the people in their charge monsters and animals—then why should I believe the kids are going to fix literally anything else?

Or is it simply the case that it's perfectly fine that prisons should be this way; shitty prison conditions are only bad when it's the villains whose sympathetic backstories we know who're facing them?

"It's a shame, but the League has to pay for their crimes." But why does that “have to be”? Isn’t it because no one involved—not the characters, not the author, not the people who accept this ending—can envision a world where the “has to be” could be otherwise?

That's the problem with, "Killing someone can be a way of saving them," and, "They would have just spent the rest of their lives in prison anyway." It's a stunted mentality that leaves no room for the radical reforms and systemic improvements that are necessary to stop this whole cycle from repeating. Worse, as I very much suspect we're going to see in the epilogue, it's a mentality that says the system is actually fine as it is—the only real problems were caused by a tiny handful of bad actors, and now that they've been removed, everything else will self-correct, and things will go back to normal.

That precious, perfect status quo that Deku swore to return: this is the way he brings it back, it and everything that comes with it.

o In summary: if this ending sticks, then what we have in My Hero Academia is thus:

A world that played at being grounded, but which turned out to run on arbitrary rules, magic thinking and Evil Babies.

Characters that were presented as radically kind, but whose endgame resolutions represented a cruel underlining of the status quo, in which only those who suffer in silence deserve not to have to.

A story that wanted to be staunchly idealistic but which ultimately entrenched to hollow, meaningless platitudes.

o P.S. So like, Nana’s vestige saved Shigaraki off-screen, right? So even after all her fear that Shigaraki would have to die, even after all the efforts she and Deku made to help Deku break him down, at the very last moment, she wanted to save him. And she did so in the only reason she could, as one psychic scrap to another: she held his soul together when he was shattering apart. But when Deku comes to the very last moment, when Shigaraki’s body is shattering apart, does he do anything to try to hold Shigaraki together? Try to tell Shigaraki how to use Black Whip to hold his body together, call for Sero and his tape, Aizawa’s Erasure, anything like that?

If it doesn't stick? That I'm less sure of. But I'm pretty sure Deku's fucked as the Symbol of Hope no matter what. There’s no way, at this point, to fix his portrayal as the kid who has a drive to save that eclipses all common understanding. Every part of the story, before and after that declaration of Yoichi’s in Chapter 287, has served to undermine that claim. This is just the last nail in the sky coffin.

Nah. Instead, he just administers one last punch to finish the job. The boy with the drive to save that eclipses all common understanding, everyone.

#bnha #chapter thoughts #stillness has salt #more tags later

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