#Cw manipulation tactics

[frogsprism]

Dark!John Price X Delusional?Reader

18+, mdni, dark and unsettling themes

Cw: implied death of a major character, grieving, mental health, trauma, manipulation tactics, abusive behavior

Please let me know if I missed any.

A/N: It has been awhile since I wrote anything. I will most like be slow at updating this. POV will change.

Word Count: 1,100

You lost him. One minute he was with you and the next he's gone. And when you see him again with one else, you think maybe it was all in your head. Maybe you thought there was something between the two of you, when there was nothing there. Maybe they were right about you. That you are not right in the head.

There's black chrysanthemums growing where he used to sit. It makes the room look like there is a small black hole. Your chest hurts every time you walk into the living room. Ripping them out does nothing but make them grow back (fuller than before. It's starting to make you sick).

So, you stop pulling at them, and the sickness has slowly stopped, too. You wish he was here. But, he's not. He's gone. And they remain.

It has been two years since you last seen him. The black chrysanthemums are still there but fewer in numbers as the days pass. Their color dulling over time as well. You should be happy about that, but it fills you with dread.

You finally see him again. With someone that is not you. Someone you thought was your friend.

And it feels like everything is crashing down around you. You can't breathe, can't see. So, you run all the way home.

And as soon as you get there and look at his favorite recliner. All of the chrysanthemums are gone, like they never exist. Like he never existed.

Slowly, your life goes back to before you meet him. Or was it all in your head? Did you just see him one day and thought you two were together. You've gotten rid of the recliner. The one he had thrown away 3 years ago. You stop seeing that friend. Was not a friend, but a coworker, the only one that spoke to you. And suddenly, you stop seeing them at work. They're supposed to get married, having a beautiful wedding in Herefordshire.

Why is this happening to you? It's your own fault. What did you do to deserve this? You need to stop living in your head. You thought he loved you. Does he even know you exist?

Then, one day, you see them again. It's not fair. They get to live the life you wanted. But, they are alone and there is no ring. Where is the ring? Where is John? You slowly make your way to them. What are you doing? When you get closer to them, you see them with someone that is not John. Where is he? Why are you not with him? You watch them as they leave. Why are you leaving without him? Where did you leave him? Suddenly, the world goes dark.

John hated that he had to leave you like that. But, it had to be done, the risk was too high. If something ever happened to you, he could not live with himself. John just hoped that you were okay and you would forgive him for what he did.

It hurt even more that he used that one coworker of yours. The one you talked about often since they were the only one in the building that treated you like a person. And not just someone that was unwell.

It worked out in the end, they were not in the best of situations themselves, their partner was abusive. John told them that if played the part of being his partner and that he would get them out. Let someone else risk their life but not your sweet girl's.

John told you that being with you was no longer working out. That he fell in love with some else and that he could no longer be away from them. He watched as your face fell, seeing the tears starting to swell up. He had to look away. Look at what you have done. He thought you would freak out and tell him no, that you guys could work it out. But, when he looked back at you, he saw nothing. No emotions, just a blank stare and a “Okay, John, if that is what you want.”. You got up and began packing his belongings. John sat there and watched as you finished packing the last item. Why is she so calm? She should be mad.

“Here are your things, please leave.”

John could not believe that you just kicked him out like it was nothing. Did you not love him? He tried to talk to you, but you just closed the door in his face. But, before the door closed all the way, he saw the look on your face. The face of a dead man. He stood there in silence, slowly turning away from the door and walk to his car.

Hope it was worth it. This was not the plan. This was not supposed to happen. It was supposed to play out differently. You were supposed to cry and tell him not to leave you. That you could not live without him. But, you just closed the door in his face.

You wake up in the hospital, not something you planned for or the knot on your head. Not, like there aren’t enough problems with your head. Thankfully, they let you go after you showed them you were well enough to leave. After lying through your teeth, telling them that someone will help you. They told you that if your head still hurts to come back or make an appointment with your healthcare provider.

You just wish that everything would go back to the way it used to be. But that would mean going back home. And that was not an option anymore. He made sure of that. But, you did not want to look like a failure. Not when your mother gave you everything just so you could go to college. She would take you back, she loves you after all. So, you stay where you are and try to live normally.

When you got back home, you felt so drained. You thought that you finally got better, that you were well enough. Everyone at work was finally speaking to you. They actually asked if you wanted to go out and have drinks with them. They never asked that before. Because you got better at hiding. You did not want to ruin that by becoming who you once were. And not because they were told to leave you alone. Not because they were threatened by him.

But, at what cost? You were a mess for 3 years. For 3 years, you were like a dead man walking. For 3 years, your mind was in ruins. For 3 years, you were actually happy. No one telling you that your coworkers did not like you because you talk too much. No one telling you that you don't need anyone but them. You are finally able to live like you used to. You're free.

Or so you thought.

[trashlie]

ILY FP 220

CW for abuse, manipulation, gaslighting, etc. Sorry for the minor spoiler, but we’re digging into the way Yui has manipulated and abused Kousuke since he was young and that might be triggering to some readers. 

Whoo BOY! Idk about you guys but I loved this episode (I keep saying this every week lmao). Again, there’s so much confirmation of things I’ve been saying/believing, and I find it really funny that this arrived on the cusp of a related discussion I’ve been having lol. This time, I’m also going to link to some interesting posts/threads from the 220 discussion post on the reddit, because they are presented really well, and while I’ll talk about them in this post, I want to highlight the comments that have furthered my thoughts and commentary! The reddit discussion posts are really what helps me put my thoughts together!

I am a big fan of this comment and the subsequent replies between them and cheeselounge; good explanation of exactly how Yui’s manipulation/gas lighting/abuse works and why it maintains a compelling hold on Kousuke, as well as some good food for thought about black and white vs shades of grey, the ableism that runs rampant when people on a whole talk about Kousuke, and how harmful it is to view characters as 100% innocent or guilty. Also really fantastic points on the parallels of how Shinae, Nol, and Kousuke are shown waking in the hospital. Just an all around top tier comment!

This is my own comment lol but what is important is not the comment itself but the discussion in the replies. I’m not a medical person so everyone’s input on what it means for Yui to shut down Hansuke’s tests is invaluable to me lol. Someone also brought up blood type - and while I don’t think that’s something Hansuke would be testing, it does bring up interesting thoughts re: Kousuke’s parentage. 

So let’s get into it! 

I know it’s tacky to be an “I told you so!” person but this episode, besides making me feel incredibly unsettled and angry, absolutely made me feel I TOLD YOU SO! Yui is SO skilled at manipulation it’s like second nature to her. Every now and then I still see people defending Yui as loving Kousuke so much that the way she treats him can’t possibly be manipulation, and that you can’t prove it’s manipulation - and like. THAT’S THE THING LOL Textbook abuse is often met with people who don’t believe it because they’ve never seen it, because you’re being so dramatic, because it’s not big deal. That’s how abuse WORKS. The abuser is seen as someone who couldn’t possibly be abusing you, because they do so many nice things or they seem so lovely and they just don’t seem like an abuser~. That’s why it works!!!! Because they have created a reasonable cause of doubt. Because they make YOU look like the liar, like you’re dramatic, like you’re just making a big deal out of things that aren’t. 

Also, people can say they love you and still abuse you, still hurt you, still use you for their own gain. And Yui does just that. 

It’s been a source of great ire to me that so much of what Yui has done has been swept under an umbrella of “she just loves him so much of course she wants the best for him”. But it’s not about him, and we can see that now! Yui doesn’t respond to Kousuke with love or affection. She has NO CONCERN about what happened to him. In fact, even as Hansuke tries to argue in favor of running tests on Kousuke, Yui tries it on him. “He’s dramatic, you know that. I know him well, and I know he’s fine. You are making a big deal out of nothing. We don’t want to make him think something is wrong with him do we?” Hansuke is the only one showing concern for Kousuke. It’s not just about him hitting his head - it’s about the unresponsive state in which he found Kousuke. It’s that HE knows Kousuke and HE knows something happened, something set him off, and that he responded to it in a worrying way! 

Yui SHOULD be concerned about Kousuke. She should want to understand, she should worry that something is going on with him. Instead, she just tries to pretend it’s nothing, to sweep it under the rug, to hide it not just from everyone else but from HIMSELF. “We don’t want him to think something’s wrong with him, do we?” 

But it’s not just that, it’s the way she operates! For so long I’ve been trying to say that while Rand is very much responsible for his choices, I believe Yui absolutely has affected his relationship with Kousuke and encouraged/fostered the distance between them. If Kousuke ever got close to Rand, maybe he would have laid off, calmed down, felt that he’d reached his goal and now he didn’t have to run so hard. But as long as that goal is unmet, as long as Rand is distant from him, Kousuke would have to keep pushing until he reaches the top, just like she wants. 

It’s the way she took Rand’s real gift and threw it out and replaced it with some random cardigan that looks like it’s not up to Kousuke’s standards. “How sweet of him” so sweet that he doesn’t know what his son likes, right? So sweet that he just got you whatever and you’re supposed to like it. She’s further fostering that divide. Not only has Kousuke not reached Rand, but he looks like he doesn’t know anything about him, like he doesn’t even care. And that’s further supported by the reality of the night - Kousuke knows Rand is with Nol and while on some level he understands why (even he was concerned about Nol being hurt) eventually he might internalize it as “Father chose Nol over me.” 

How many times has Yui intervened? Swapped out gifts? Relayed the wrong information, just FORGOT to relay the right information. How convenient, that Rand was never around for Kousuke’s birthday because he had meetings elsewhere. How convenient, that Rand never knew when Kousuke’s recitals or EVEN GRADUATION were. I want to reiterate I think Rand deserves critique. He has made his choices, he could have reached out to Kousuke, could have inquired about when his events are. But also as we’ve extensively discussed, Yui absolutely has and continues to weaponize what Rand loves and cares about against him. She’s weaponized it against Kousuke in how she commodified the concept of love and Rand’s love. She’s done it to Nol. At some point, people give up. There’s only so much misery they can endure. It’s very likely that Rand made efforts, in the beginning. We’ve seen him talk to Kousuke before about how he doesn’t have to follow in his footsteps, that he’s allowed to be whatever he wants. We’ve seen him try to instill little life lessons in Kousuke, only for Yui to swoop in and contradict him. At some point a person is going to burn out, grow tired. It’s unfair to Kousuke, because as his father, Rand still has a duty to him. But he’s also a human and we can only take so much. 

Rand and Yui exist in a toxic relationship, and Rand has spent so much of that time in a state of misery. We’ve seen it in Nol, how at some point he thought maybe he should give up, maybe there’s no point in fighting, maybe he just needs to let it go. We’ve seen it in Shinhan, who was overwhelmed by stress and his job and schooling and didn’t have the time and energy to be a present father and at some point turned to alcohol for comfort even at the expense of their funds. 

People can only endure so much. That’s the tragedy of Rand and Kousuke - that Rand was eventually worn down to such an extent that he didn’t have it in him to keep trying, that he was sapped of everything, that it was used against him time and time again, and that in the end it hurts Kousuke. That there were two children involved and impacted by this and both have come to meet danger and harm. 

I have so many thoughts about Rand, and Rand and Yui, and I’ll have to save them for another post. I don’t want to absolve Rand of his crimes against his children, but I also think it’s important to consider the circumstances, because at the end of the day that’s why this is so tragic. It’s so real. Yui is not the first parent to ever pit her child against her spouse, she isn’t the first person to manipulate others in her life. It doesn’t absolve the other parent, but we have to acknowledge the circumstances, because I don’t believe this is the father Rand wanted to be. I think he wanted to have a relationship with his son, but that Yui made it a difficult task, and after some time, he gave up on it. 

Anyway that’s a whole sidebar lmao the point I REALLY wanted to make was: seeing Yui pull this, swap out the gift, replace it with something that is unsuited for Kousuke just further fosters that distance between Rand and Yui. And because Yui is the one who is here when Kousuke wakes up, it further perpetuates the belief that Kousuke is not good enough for Rand to care about him - especially given the circumstances in which Rand found Kousuke. 

Do we ever get to know what’s going on in Rand’s head? What did he think, when he found his sons out there in the snow? What did he think, when it looked like Kousuke was running away from Nol left bloodied and bleeding out in the snow? What did he think about this scene, after the phone call he had earlier that night with Kousuke and what he overhead. We still don’t know what Kousuke said the night he was drunk and left his father a voicemail, but we can deduce that it probably had to do with this - with his relationship with Nol and the hate and the jealousy and the fear and the desperate want to be loved, to be good enough? 

The blood is on his hands both metaphorically and physically. 

Something I want to stress is how grey I find this. Kousuke acted on Nol’s goading. If he hadn’t pushed Kousuke’s buttons, Kousuke would not have done it. Punching him as he was leaving the room was a fight or flight response - I don’t think it was his intention to knock him off the balcony - but I also think in that moment he didn’t feel guilt. Likewise, when Nol left the party, Kousuke chased after him, caught up in his fears and jealousy, the paranoia that stems from it. In so many ways, Kousuke does believe Nol is better than him. Nol’s ability to walk away and not fight back not just at the party, but even after he chased him, infuriated him, because he was goaded into chasing and attacking and yet Nol didn’t even choose to defend himself. Did he intentionally slam Nol like that knowing the glass shards would dig in and tear him up? Did he even register the glass?

What really strikes me is that when Kousuke realizes Nol is injured - badly - it doesn’t come across to me like he’s afraid of getting in trouble for it. He seems genuinely concerned that something has happened to Nol, that he’s bleeding. He wanted Nol to fight back, but I don’t think he wanted to HURT him like that? His reaction is so different from back at the party, where paranoia clouded logic and that flashback returned to him. I think yes, Kousuke wanted to hurt Nol, but I don’t think he wanted it to be like this?

Idk they’re complicated and it’s why I enjoy getting to see these kinds of scenes. 

But again, this is a tangent I didn’t mean to go on, but I think it’s important to state so that you guys understand how and why I interpret the scenes as I do. There is no one who is 100% guilty or innocent.

I definitely think we are meant to dig in to Yui’s actions and understand the manipulation and gaslighting that has gone on for the entirety of Kousuke’s life. That it isn’t solely about Nol, that even before him, she was doing this, that Kousuke as her son has always been a means to her self-serving goals and ambitions, that he was never a child to her but this extension of herself, this opportunity to go after what she wants, a way to cut Rand out of the picture so that everything falls back into the hands of her family. Though Kousuke she is able to orchestrate everything she wants and needs because he is solely at her mercy. 

Look at how deftly she discredits Hansuke while ensuring she is seen as the one who has the most concern for him. Look at how she makes it look as though Hansuke was trying something shady, to run tests on him without his consent, how can he overstep those boundaries - as if she doesn’t do that very thing at every opportunity. That’s how it works! You isolate your victim by making them believe everyone is out to harm them, that no one is trustworthy - no one except yourself, of course. It’s how she remains that safe shelter to him. Even though she does overstep his boundaries, even though she inserts herself into his business, she’s also the one who brings him “comfort”, the only one who he can trust. And it’s why he is unable to part ways with that manipulated reality he adheres to. It’s why, when other people speak the truth to him, he cannot believe it if it contradicts what he knows and believes, and that’s why no one is able to get through to him. 

Kousuke is a textbook victim of manipulation - he can never grow and progress as long as Yui exists. 

And something that someone pointed out (in the first link I included above!) is the visual progression of that. While we knew Kousuke would likely regress and everything he confronted and admitted would be out the window if Yui shows up, it’s further illustrated at the beginning of the episode and how it’s juxtaposed against the last scene we saw. 

From Nol and Shinae standing together, hands clutched and Nol resting on her shoulder with the sunrise and light, the clocks turn back and grow darker and darker, until Kousuke awakes. His moment of illumination is over, he’s back to the dark. Yui’s arrival represents that darkness, and how it undoes every moment of truth he had prior. 

As long as Yui remains in Kousuke’s proximity, he will always be in the dark, unable to reach the light. 

In that same comment, they talked about the parallels in how we were shown Nol, Shinae, and Kousuke all waking up in the hospital. 

Shinae woke to her father and his love and care. There was never a moment she had to doubt him. I still can’t get over that little snippet of Minhyuk in the hospital before she’d fully woken, how feral he sounded, how upset he was about what happened - that he knew he was one of the only people who actually cared about her and his anger at how she was hurt. There was never a moment that Shinae had to doubt these people. Even though her mom has left and took her sister, too, Shinae has never had to feel entirely alone. 

On the flip side, Nol didn’t wake up to relatives, to his parents. He woke up to panic and fear and his fight or flight senses kicked in - until he noticed Shinae asleep at the foot of his bead and realized he wasn’t alone. His friends showed up despite the way he had treated him to celebrate him, to make him feel special, to make him feel better in the ways that they can. Nol has spent a lot of time alone, but he’s not. He has people at his side. 

But Kousuke also wakes up alone - no peace, but instead a hard to make out argument outside his door. Isn’t that awful? At least Shinae and Nol wake up to a sense of comfort, but Kousuke wakes up to people arguing about him. When he fully wakes and sits up, there’s no one in the room. Just him. And then in sweeps Yui, paying off a nurse to trash Rand’s gift, ready to spin a new web to further ensnare Kousuke. 

As long as Yui remains that safe place, that comfort to Kousuke, he cannot be free. 

That’s the power of isolation, that’s the power of discrediting the people around him, of ensuring he believes only her words, convincing him that only she knows him well enough, that only she can help him, only she will tell him the truth. 

“They were all superfluous. Don’t worry, I told him to stop. It’s best to save resources on patients that actually need it, right?” 

We know Hansuke is in the right mind, wanting to run tests on Kousuke. He is rightfully concerned that something is going on with Kousuke and hopes tests could be indicative of something. He’s a doctor and thus believes in science and if there’s scientific evidence, maybe THAT could sway Kousuke, maybe THAT could convince him to listen. But not only does Yui put a stop to it, but she manages to discredit his intentions. She conveys to Kousuke exactly what she needs to - of course there’s nothing wrong with you you’re just fine don’t listen to what anyone else says because they don’t know you like I do. They’re all just being so dramatic. 

And the next time Hansuke dares bring up to Kousuke that maybe he needs to get checked out, Kousuke will double down against him, will continue to believe Hansuke has a vendetta against him, will add him to his growing list of paranoia. The one person who is actively fighting for Kousuke is a big threat to Yui, so she has to ensure that Kousuke won’t trust him.

But that begs the question then. Is she putting a stop to the tests in effort to discredit Hansuke, or is it more than that? I am not a medical person, so this is not my area of expertise and I can only go off of the input others have put out there. I do personally think that whatever Kousuke is dealing with is not so much a mental illness as much as a response to the various stressors in his life, and while I do think a psych evaluation could at least better pinpoint a way to help Kousuke, that’s not the kind of test that Hansuke could have run while he was out. 

But what could be gleaned from simple labwork and urine analysis? If what Kousuke is dealing with is his stress levels and his response to internalized fears and jealousy resulting in paranoia, if it’s his body’s reaction to dealing with a past trauma, if it’s his body shutting down when he can’t deal with something, that’s not something blood is going to show right? 

There’s a lot of theories.

The first assumes both the rules of the mukoyoshi theory and that Kousuke is not, in fact, Rand’s child. It would go like this: because Rand was adopted into the Hirahara family by his marriage to Yui, it means he is treated as much as a blood relative as Yui is, and because the family business passes through the males, it means Rand’s progeny are the next in line for heir. This theory can branch off a couple ways. 

The first is obviously if it’s found out that Kousuke isn’t Rand’s child - but from simple labwork, would that even be possible? Unless Hansuke is checking Kousuke’s blood type AND knows the blood types of Rand and Yui, how would he be able to uncover the truth? But still, Yui would want to cover that truth at all costs, so maybe stopping Hansuke before he gets further and digs in deeper? 

But there’s also the fact that if it was believed Kousuke was not fit to be CEO, that his mental state was worrying or they couldn’t trust him to carry out the necessary duties, he could be stripped of his role - and it would go to the next in line, and as a blood-relative of Rand, that would be Nol. Thus, it would be very important to cover up any indicator that Kousuke cannot handle his role as heir. While we know Kousuke’s stress responses are directly related to unassessed psychological triggers, it would be easy for someone on the outside to look at him and go “He can’t handle stress and he lashes out at people, he isn’t fit for this.” And I don’t think that stress response is new to Kousuke. Though we didn’t see it really take affect until Nol and Kousuke were working closely together and Kousuke’s fears and paranoia were reawakened, we can assume from what little we saw of Kousuke’s recollection of the night Nol was taken away that this was another time he reacted to psychological triggers and shut down. 

@poisonheart pointed this out and it really put a lot of things into new light. It would also lend credence to Nol being unstable - ensure that he never stands a chance, that no one will ever think he’s fit for the role. 

Anyway, that brings us back to: Yui cannot have anyone, and especially not Kousuke, thinking there’s anything wrong with him. It’s not that she believes he’s perfect and thinks anyone who wants to run tests is insulting. It’s that she knows Kousuke is not perfect and she cannot let anyone find out. It would be so easy for the company to swing to one of her sister’s husbands if it turned out Kousuke and Nol were unfit and she absolutely cannot have that. That’s HER fortune, that’s HER business and she will not let it fall into the hands of another man. 

I want to make it clear that when I say something is wrong with Kousuke, I mean that when his triggers stress him out too much, he goes on spirals. I don’t think it’s something like “Kousuke is bipolar” because we can see clearly WHAT affects him, WHAT sets him off, and why it sets him off. I think, in an ideal world where it as easily possible, Kousuke was able to make peace with his feelings about his father, he’d be able to make peace with his feelings about Nol, and he’d be able to eventually reduce the probability of getting swept into these spirals. If Kousuke had no reason to fear Nol, to feel jealous of him, the intense need to best him at every opportunity, if he didn’t see everything Nol does as being an attack against him, as him plotting against him, as him trying to overtake him, he wouldn’t get so worked up. 

I also think making peace with Rand and Nol means whatever it is Kousuke is protecting himself from, whatever it is that happened in his falsified memory, would have less power over him. It’s not that Kousuke would act like this regardless - it’s that he is actively responding to things that trigger these reactions. 

I think I lost track of where I’m going lmao the point is: Kousuke is a direct result of the manipulation he’s experienced, and every time he experiences a truth that goes against the world Yui has gaslighted him into believing in, he cannot process it and it breaks him down. It’s a normal reaction! He’s not reacting like this because there’s something “wrong” with him, he is responding to high levels of stress and his brain wants to maintain the truth he knows. Certainly he needs therapy, but we all do. They all do. 

And this episode illuminates WHY and HOW Kousuke remains trapped in this state, and why any attempt at showing him the truth goes awry. Kousuke doesn’t put his beliefs ahead of other peoples’ solely because he has superiorlistic feelings about himself - it’s because he has to, in order to continue what he knows. 

Yui offering him tea is also a chilling moment, because we know the way Nol reacts to tea. He knows - he understands. But on the flipside, Kousuke doesn’t have the same reaction to it. He may even associate tea with comfort. I think this difference is VERY important, because Nol is aware of the witch Yui is, he probably is aware of the ways she has hurt him. Kousuke, though, isn’t. He still seeks comfort from her, and the tea theory, that maybe it’s laced, that maybe it is something his body responds to in order to placate him, is an important one. I don’t think this theory goes as far as some people think - I don’t think he’s being constantly drugged by his personal chef, for instance, nor do I think he ate or drank anything that night that would have triggered how he acted this night because a. Yui was surprised when he showed up to the party at all and b. Again, everything about Kousuke’s reactions are perfectly in line with the things that tip him off. He didn’t get worked up because he was drugged, he got worked up because he was responding to the dissonance between what he believes and what he sees, the stress of what Nol did and how Kousuke fears it will reflect on him, and his desperation to never disappoint Rand. 

HOWEVER I AM very much on board with the idea that after very traumatizing moments, perhaps Yui has placated Kousuke with a special tea that would calm him down and interrupt the dissonance, something he would come to associate as calm and safety, and thus further push her goal of ensuring Kousuke only feels safe with her, that she is the only one he can trust and seek refuge in. Everything going wrong and then mommy shows up with nice special tea and suddenly he’s calm and all those questions have been tucked away, there’s a new memory in its place; that’s not how that played out now is it, dear, wasn’t it like this? 

Something else about Yui worth noting is that she is VERY unhappy. There’s something so jarring and uncomfortable about the way she reacts when Kousuke tells her he was looking for Nol and Rand, that Nol has been hurt. That eerie smile mask of hers and how it closes in on her, that she came not because Kousuke needed her but she needed something from him - she needed to know Nol’s whereabouts, she needed to know where her scheming husband has gone. And Kousuke has no information for her. She is ANGRY but it’s also an opportunity to further drive that wedge. Rand isn’t here - not only does that mean he’s not here to check on Kousuke but it also means someone lied, whether it was Rand or Jayce, and it doesn’t matter which it was because Kosuuke will internalize it in the worst possible way. Why didn’t they come here, why did they hide their location? As readers we know exactly why - Rand is protecting Nol from Yui. But in doing so, it looks like he’s hiding things from Kousuke and he will not be able to rationalize it any other way. 

Even his reaction to the fact that Rand isn’t here shows that - he’s starting to get worked up again, he’s agitated, he doesn’t know where they are and Nol was hurt and Yui is grabbing his injured hand and trying to placate him. There’s something about Kousuke’s “You don’t believe me...?” that REALLY hurts, because it’s all a part of her manipulation. He’s in a vulnerable state, he’s confused and instead of receiving clarity, Yui is muddying the waters. If Yui doesn’t believe him, does that mean he could be wrong? Does it mean that Jayce was wrong? 

Again, in the end, he can rely on and trust only Yui. 

I really love that we also got to see Meg and Jayce! What an unlikely duo! I have this hope that one day Meg and Kousuke can become unlikely friends - as much as anyone can be friends with Kousuke lol. I think we’ve seen that, like Hansuke, she is someone who at least likes Kousuke for something attributed to who he is, rather than chasing him for the fortune and power. I think that could have added fuel to the fire, but we’ve seen that Meg’s interest in Kousuke was rooted in him being one of the only people in her life to cheer her on, to make her feel seen and like she can do what she sets her mind to, unlike her parents who encouraged her to give up and go for something easy. I don’t want to downplay her harassment and stalking, because it was very much so out of line but I’m glad she seems to be coming around and I think from that, if Kousuke can ever learn to be comfortable around her, we could see a really interesting dynamic of friendship. I think Meg has a lot of potential to have a similar relationship as Kousuke and Shinae have had, where Shinae calls out Kousuke and tries not to let him push her around and make her feel small. Clearly there’s a lot of things Meg and Kousuke both need to work through and it’s not something that would immediately happen, but I think it might be a series of incidents that could build up to them being able to trust each other, maybe? 

Meg finding the gift that was thrown out fuels that hope, at least. I know right now she takes it as Kousuke choosing to throw it out, but I wonder if we won’t get to see a scene where Meg mentions the gift he threw out and makes Kousuke go “Excuse me? What? I would never throw out something from Father” and create that little seed of doubt. That’s the biggest issue with Kousuke being caught in Yui’s web - no one can get through to him. But if that seed of doubt is planted, if could lead to Kousuke questioning the things he needs to. Because if she’s thrown out this gift, what else has she thrown out. What else has she prevented? What else has she lied about? Maybe he can reach that conclusion that it wasn’t that he was never good enough for Rand, but that she continued to make that gap wider and wider and to destroy every bridge before either Kousuke or Rand ever had a chance to cross them. Even if it’s not the case and she hasn’t actually interfered as much as we think, it still creates that doubt, because it still means she lied and that she isn’t the only pillar of truth in his life, and there’s still a question of what else he’s lied about. 

I love that we get to see Meg hanging around that long, too. I mean, I’m glad she’s getting a wuber and will go home, but I just can’t help but feel like we will get to see a lot more of Meg and Kousuke - after all, just like her unlikely appearance with Yujing, they DO have a lot of mutuals, and Meg has become much more important to the story than anyone could have accounted for. Now that she holds the actual key to possibly unlocking some doubt in Kousuke’s mind, I think we will get to see more of her. Again, I know at the begnning her harassment was treated as a tasteless joke, but I love Meg because of how much we’ve already seen her change and grow, her decision to love herself and stand up for herself. I think in time we might get to see Kousuke develop a sense of respect for her, as he kind of has with Shinae. I like to hope that she might be able to eventually bring some comfort to Kousuke, in the way that maybe she can be someone who brings him truth and honesty. I don’t mean this as a shippy thing, but just in the sense that Kousuke is very much alone. Shinae has people who love and care about her. Nol has people who love and care about him. Kousuke doesn’t have that as much. Having someone who has your back is vital. That’s what makes it so hard for victims to leave - where do they go? who do they turn to? When for so long their abuser has been their only sense of comfort and shelter, when their abuser has made everyone view the victim as hysterical and dramatic, when they are left all on their own, isn’t that scary? 

This isn’t a “they can fix him” thing, but rather for Kousuke to grow he needs to escape his mom, and for him to do THAT he needs to understand who she is and what she’s done to him. Hansuke is doing his best, but maybe having someone else on his side would be beneficial. These are complex stories and it’s not enough to just have someone at your side, there’s a lot of psychological recovery for Kousuke to work through - but it’s not as daunting when you aren’t alone. 

Idk, I say it every week but I just. I have a LOT of feelings. I’ve really enjoyed the complexity of the pain train that is Kousuke (I took that from @poisonheart lmao) because it’s so well done. He is a man who has been manipulated his entire life, he’s felt neglected by his father, he’s been isolated, everyone who cares about him has been discredited, he’s been trapped in this web and haunted by his jealousies and fears and he’s lashed out every time he feared he was losing his place, every time he worried Nol would best him. Just like how tragic it is that Yui was able to drive that wedge between Rand and Kousuke, it’s tragic that Yui has been able to do this to Kousuke, that as a result of the seeds she’s sown, he’s grown up to be this kind of person, to do despicable things, to break someone so that they never had the chance to grow.

Nothing ever happens in a vacuum, nothing is ever black and white. Kousuke is both a victim and an abuser. Rand is both suffering from Yui’s games and a bad, absent parent. Nol was hurt over and over by Kousuke and still reached out, still tried to help, tried to bond. I think we absolutely have to acknowledge that Kousuke is dealing with something that is very difficult to escape, that is very psychologically damaging. That’s why we can’t look at him and go “I can’t believe a grown adult is acting like that.” There’s always more to the story, and it’s unfortunate that the pain inflicted on these characters has caused them to hurt someone else.

Rand’s misery led to him giving up and hurting his son, which lead to his son living with so much fear and jealousy that he hurt the only person who tried to reach out to him over and over again, which lead to that person hurting the people who loved him and wanted to help. It’s an endless cycle, and even though it begins with Yui, I’m sure she has her own hurt, too, that she’s turned on everyone else. 

[faultlies]

ishy. because this quote is too perfect not to.

"-wait! why am i being blamed for everything?"

@aeinsof | this is was for a prompt collection i rb'd on a diff blog but i forgor

"Because you are the only one not pulling your weight, Ishmael!"

The captain's bellow was a crackling boom, crashing down on the ship in echoing waves. It beckoned heads to turn; a veritable ocean of eyes drowning the deckhand. Dark clouds hung thick and heavy in the sky, encircling the sun and constricting its glow to a fine point. That ring of light haloed the back of Ahab's head, and the monolithic shadow she cast weighed heavy on Ishmael's shoulders.

The mighty Ahab paused only to pluck her pipe out from between her lips before continuing.

"Even young Pipp has been attentive to his duties!" barked the captain, white smoke pouring out from her mouth, "Most port-boys his age are truants, yet he volunteers for night-watch. Volunteers, Ishmael! The child's been sleeping the days away, aye, but not from growing lazy. He's been toiling like a true sailor, working hard to keep us alive! Unlike you!"

Ahab threw her arm out like a harpoon, addressing Ishmael off the tip of an accusatory finger. Murmurs rumbled amongst the onlookers.

"When any one of us grows lazy, you damn us all!" That pointed finger speared downward, judgement cast, "Look at what you've damned us to, Ishmael!!"

The clouds parted then, as if by the captain's will. Sunlight poured over her shoulders and across the deck, catching the twinkle of an iridescent sheen that painted the floorboards. It was dulled in most places, barely distinguishable from condensation on old wood, but there were a few puddles by the deckhand's feet where rainbow film swirled around glistening red flecks. Ahab sneered.

"Decks drenched in whale's oil!" she declared, "Filth! Filth and rot, Ishmael!! What should happen to us if we were to step in these puddles you've left? What if we were carrying barrel-fulls of product? A harpoon!? The blood would be on your hands, Ishmael!"

The girl couldn't so much as get her mouth open before her wrist was snatched by Ahab's hand. The captain's grip was tight enough to burn, yet not enough to bruise. Her teeth clacked as she shoved the pipe back in her mouth. Her freed hand promptly ripped the leather glove off of Ishmael, exposing the deckhand's soft palm to the salty air.

"Your hands have yet to experience an hour of real labor - let alone your mistakes!" The captain continued, shoving her own gloved thumb hard enough into Ishmael's palm that she could feel the woman's pulse, "How can you ever expect to be a sailor with feathered hands?! They might serve you well doing meaningless paperwork in those wretched doldrums that are the Nest, but not here! No, the Pallid Whale will tear through these slothful hands like butter! Then you'll be made a Mermaid, and damn us all in your stead! The doom of this voyage is the doom of the world! Is that what you want, when you shirk your duties?!"

Ishmael was once again denied the chance to respond as Ahab released her hand - only to seize the other.

"Ah," the captain hissed through her pipe, "of course not. Your heart rages with the same fire as I. You only lack the conviction for it to become an inferno! But I will teach you."

Ishmael's remaining glove was torn off with a similar ferocity to the first.

"Callouses, Ishmael! Callouses!" bellowed Ahab, dark eyes wide in revelation, "The mark of a true whaler! The armor we craft into our skin through years of toil! We will work those feathers out of your hands, and never again will you be shackled by a Nest! No Mermaid will pierce you, no Whale will get his teeth around you. A true salt dog you shall be. You'll help me see this voyage through. You only need scrub out that softness."

Ahab slipped the deckhand's gloves into her pocket. Only then did she let go of Ishmael's arm. As the other woman regained her bearings, Ahab leaned down to pick up the rusting pail and wire sponge that'd been at the pair's feet.

Frothy sea-water splashed onto Ishmael's clothes as the captain shoved them towards her chest.

"Now scrub, dog."

[drachenblood]

the pattern i keep seeing over the past few days since the callout started circulating are people who feel extremely guilty for interacting with miles.

for what little comfort this can offer, please don't let him ruin your happiness or let him ruin your friendships. don't blame yourself for falling for his deceptions. he's very good at manipulating people.

additionally, a huge take away i've had from this is the importance of letting people be heard instead of shutting them down. it's disturbing the number of people who have come forward with their testimonials now that they feel safe to do so. people sharing their experiences with him as recently as the past month.

[butchladymaria]

Hello! I saw that you really like Adeline! 🐟🐟🐟 Jellyfish headcanon is adorable! Why do you think that she chose to join Blood Saints and Patients? Do you think this was really her choices?

HIIIIIII sorry for the wait!i’ve been chipping away at this one in my drafts forever but tysm for the ask!!!

jelly adeline’s concept was based on a mix of the fishing hamlet residents and the fact that some of the patients attack you with tentacle-like appendages out of their heads. i had seen a lot of speculation as to what was under the bags on the patient heads, but none of the theories i’d seen quite seemed to incorporate their aquatic elements. i’m so glad you like her!

i think before the church, adeline was a vibrant, perseverant, and intelligent soul with a deeply curious mind. i talked about this a little bit before, but my personal headcanon is that adeline grew up on a farm, the eldest of several siblings. when the family fell on hard times financially, they moved to the city which would eventually become the cathedral ward. adeline is able to help support her family by becoming a nun. in other words, she was used to handling a lot of responsibility. i also think this is around when she met and befriended maria, and in time they’d become extremely close. she easily builds a community among her fellow sisters, even in the dire circumstances which would eventually devolve into the beast plague, thanks to her unbreakable spirit and compassion for others. adeline is also incredibly clever — she developed an expertise in folk medicine growing up in a rural area with few doctors, and this coupled with her ability to work under pressure saved lives. finally, she was very well-respected by her peers, making adeline an obvious choice for sainthood. becoming a blood saint was a decision she made on account of her own strengths and abilities, and one she remained proud of even at the end of it all.

however, her time as a nun also sows the seeds for her to self-doubt and self-sacrificing tendencies. i’d liken it to the old saying about the frog in boiling water. if you drop a frog in boiling water, it will just hop out. however, if you put it in and slowly heat the water, the frog will boil to death because it grows slowly accustomed to worse and worse conditions. serving as a nun primed adeline to accept that she was only worth what she could sacrifice for others. i also think this is why maria disapproved of her sainthood. while she wasn’t aware of the church’s true face, maria could still see how it was weighing on the mind of her dear companion, and she didn’t want it to get worse for her. however, as the hunts would get longer and longer, she had less and less time to witness how bad it truly became. i also don’t think adeline ever truly confided in maria how terrible her treatment would become — she was conditioned to believe it was normal, that she deserved it. adeline ultimately chose to become a saint because she believed it was for the greater good — that despite the sacrifices she’d have to make, they would all be worthwhile. she still held unwavering faith in the church’s earnest intentions. this, of course, would prove to be a mistake.

her time as a saint only made things worse. her strenuous responsibilities isolated her even further from her friends and family outside the church, trapping her in an echo chamber. where once she was free spirited and curious, the stress of treating so many people combined with the intensifying abuse of the church made her subservient and broke her self worth. canonically, i would argue the church operates as a cult — with all the manipulation and abuse that entails.

i think what pushed adeline to become a patient of the research hall was likely the aftermath of the fishing hamlet. adeline hears the church is trumpeting a mysterious fantastical discovery — out of the eyes of the public, of course — but maria returns utterly broken. i personally don’t think maria ever told adeline the truth of what happened that night because of how much she abhorred herself over it. but from adeline’s perspective, maria had suddenly become detached and haunted for reasons adeline didn’t understand, and she was helpless to assuage her pain. what good is she if she cannot soothe the suffering of the people she loves most? even after everything she’s sacrificed of herself, it still wasn’t enough. after being isolated from her connections outside the church, she has no one to talk to who doesn’t reinforce church doctrine (whether consciously or not). maria was the only one left who would challenge those ideas in a meaningful way, both as an outsider to yharnam and an affiliate of the church rather than a servant of it. adeline feels helpless — and in her mind, if she’s helpless she’s useless, and if she’s useless she’s worthless. she feels she cannot confide in anyone or else they will see her as weak or unworthy of sainthood. i wonder if maria, in her despondence, ever told adeline that she felt she deserved the misery she was in, and if perhaps adeline saw herself reflected in that sentiment. after the church has ground her sense of self to dust, all of these emotions were the perfect and terrible catalyst which pushed her to volunteer as a patient.

ultimately, i do not think she chose to become a patient of her own free will, but i also don’t think she was physically coerced into it either. rather, it was an insidious process of psychological abuse which broke her powerful spirit in the end.

[rems]

i hate it when ouid makes you introspective lijke why am i thinkinking about that shite

[touchoffleece]

Very well broken down. I have been focused on other things, and just ran into the supposed suicide attempt (2 people who are aware of James Somerton's irl contact info have stated He is not dead, and there's nothing to worry about) but this is basically what popped up into my head when I heard. He has a history of lying, and trying to twist facts to make himself the victim, and then using the sympathies of well meaning or naive internet users to form defense mobs (he's done this when smaller users called out his plagiarism or problematic behavior in the past, shown in HBomberguy's video). He's tried to downplay and excuse his action 2 times now since he was exposed by Toddintheshadows and HBomberguy only to fail in making himself the victim once again, and getting rightfully called out on his shitty behavior. So what better way to get the ultimate "I'm the victim here, and you should be feeling sorry for me and feeling guilty."-move than to set up a suicide and make a final spectacle of it, leaving the people who exposed your lying and cheating to be framed as bad guys lacking context. Whether there was an actual attempt or not doesn't really matter in my opinion. What matters more is why, if Somerton truly felt sorry and regret, why did he choose for the Nth time to make himself the victim from actions he himself had done for years and continue(-ed/-s) to do, even after his alleged passing? It really sucks that we have to be critical of someone saying they are suicidal, but this is one of those rare psycho pathic situations regarding a compulsive liar, with no shame that uses well meaning people as shields and swords against people he views as "aggressors/bullies". A lot of people may want to dumb this down to simple black and white terms; but the truth is Psychology does not work like that and this can't be so easily explained or categorized. The hard truth is: People like James are and should be treated as exceptions to normal forms of empathy and forgiveness

I wanna be blunt about this ongoing James somerton suicide threat issue but I don't want to connect it to my IRL Twitter to comment on the dogshit takes I'm seeing there or the good and well meaning but maybe too kind takes I'm seeing here.

Obviously, I hope that this is a false alarm cry for help fake threat. Yes, it would reinforce that Somerton is a self-centered egomaniac who can't handle consequences but that's preferable to dead.

But I work in local news and let me tell you something. I've covered half a dozen family annihilating murder suicides and heard hundreds of men making suicide threats over police scanners and a huge swath of these don't happen because they're depressed or because people are mean to them on the Internet. They're punishment. A person with an enormous amount of entitlement towards people around them gets backed into a corner and they punish the people closest to them by killing themselves or threatening to kill themselves.

No one wants to talk about this feature of suicide because...you want to help people who are struggling and guide them away from this path and being blunt about the fact that sometimes people die of suicide as a consequence of their own shittiness towards the world does not really help actively suicidal people. But suicide rates are higher in men not just because they have higher rates of untreated mental illness (a societal issue we must address for the sake of all) but because some people, often men, use suicide (but more often the threat of suicide) as a tool of abuse and control.

I'm not saying somerton is like, an icky abuser bad guy, he's just a run of the mill grifter scumbag, but his actions in the past show a clear pattern of escalating behavior that aligns with this.

Somerton gets called out -> somerton alleges physical threats of violence against himself and his fans rally around him supportively -> Harry calls somerton out in a bigger way -> Somerton says he's hospitalized but there are inconsistencies with the story but no one wants to talk about that because you wanna be nice-ish about a guy who just tried to kill himself and now he's trying to be framed as tragic but it doesn't really stick -> somerton apologizes again but his apology is rightly called out for lies and manipulative framing as well as his continuing attempts to profit off the community he betrayed -> James posts a suicide note publicly putting the onus of his own suicide on the loss of his friend Nick who he repeatedly threw under the bus and now everyone is rallying to say nice-ish shit and wring their hands in concern over poor james -> indefinitely repeat this vicious cycle forever until he actually does die or finally gives up and gets real, intensive therapy and a day job.

Thats not to say anyone's concern is misplaced, it's 100% better for him to be a living scumbag than a dead one. He deserves the chance to grow and learn and have a life outside of youtube.

But you don't have to portray this as the action of a sad depressed man who got bullied off the Internet. It's manipulation, whether he intended to go through with it or not and whether someone intervened or not. Not denying that internet bullying is a thing, I'm sure there were some people who were shitty directly to James but he made the choice to not unplug from this and to try and keep being a public figure rather than taking care of himself. He could have deleted Twitter, blocked anyone who was an asshole, gone to therapy and tried to move on with his life but if he'd deleted his channel he'd have lost monetization... Can't have that, right? So he posts some apology videos so his channel stays active and then complains about how ruinous this is while never trying to take real accountability.

But the reality is that people would have forgotten about him so quickly and maybe his job prospects would've been impacted but...that's on him, and that's for him to figure out but it's not actually life ruining. He chose to continue to engage knowing he'd get backlash and hate and he'd feel worse and worse and things would never get better without the time and space for people to forget.

He made the choice to make a public spectacle of his own alleged suicide. That is the action of someone who wants to put the weight of their suicide on someone else's shoulders and is morally wrong. He can be held to account for that, alive or dead.

[medusas-graveyard]

Demon's twin au, except....

A Demon's twin au where Danny and Damian are polar opposites of each other as usual. Damian is the serious and pokey one while Danny is the laid back, carefree twin. Except, Danny is 10x more psychotic than Dami, and his demeanor is somewhat a manipulation tactic. He's still loves Dami vv much and would gladly burn the world for him while Dami is....hm. He envies Danny but in the same time very intimidated by him (read: black cat & golden retriever situation)

One day he gets killed by Damian (may it be a duel that he didn't think seriously because he thought Dami would never kill him or Dami just flat out conspiring against him is your choice) and Danny was FURIOUS at him. Instead, he swore Damian would pay the price for betraying him.

Fast forward after he got resurrected and lived as Danny, he's soften up a bit; more talking and less stabbing, basically. One thing leads to another where he leaves and ends up in Gotham (preferably because of CW) and hey, what dya know. Dami's siblings aren't that bad...

Meanwhile Batfam™ are scrambling because there's a teenager that looks like Damian wandering over Gotham. Damian is perplexed because that could be his supposedly dead brother (eye color).

Everything went wrong when Danny straight up jumped at Damian in costume, trying to kill him.

[wireddless]

Addict

pairing: Coriolanus Snow/Reader

cw: 17+ hate. fucking. dubcon, possessive behavior, corio is emotionally abusive, vaguely implied Plinth reader, p in v, unprotected sex, nsfw below the cut,

word count: 2.3k

a/n: i just know hes so hung you guys i want him so bad

Living in the shadow of Lucy Gray was never an easy feat. That’s all she was after the erasure; a shadow, soon to be only a whisper on the sleeping breath of Coriolanus. The closest he could ever feel to real love was with the District 12 songbird, and had she been more than just a district animal, a member of the Capitol, there was no doubt in your mind he would have married her instead.

Your days at the academy, a few years his inferior, were spent in the naive mindset that he was fully capable of love. However, the only true love he would ever feel was towards the power in his cold-handed grasp. After your graduation, you continued living with your family, their prized figurehead of poise and beauty, until they managed to propose your hand to him, only a year or so before he became president.

Coriolanus, living on top of his family’s hidden debt and poverty, accepted nearly immediately, driven by the thought of the millions that came with your name. Your family, so charmed by the icy man, was manipulated into paying for the lavish ceremony. A Capitol wedding was a spectacle to behold, a sea of colored heads and garments, textiles in unique patterns decorating the spectators in a myriad of colors. An insipid eye-sore, in his opinion.

And there you were, the pale lavender of your dress cascading down your body like the drapes that covered a window in a lonely mansion, baby fat gone. The bright light in your eyes that has now long-since faded, the happy expression you held, truly believing the facade he had put on to convince your family that he was a perfect match, it all fueled a fire of satisfaction in his psyche. He remembered the young girl from their studious days, the sneaky glances shot his way from a face framed by baby fat, it was so easy to take advantage of a schoolgirl crush, to charm his way right into your heart. He’d never go hungry again, and he could finally focus solely on his rise to power.

Or so he thought. When you managed to pick his intentions apart and discovered the cunning and manipulative nature of the man, you became defiant, fucking petulant. Your once tender and loving gaze, seeking to nurture and care for him, hardened like the calcium deposits on the well pumps in the poorer districts of Panem. He heard in passing from the workers of the house about your violent fits of tears late at night. It wasn’t like he cared, hell, the idea of your reddened face damp with tears and snot amused him to no end. But fuck if it didn’t annoy him when Tigris became your closest friend and confidant.

Coriolanus kept you locked away in the golden cage of his home, not permitting the men of his staff to go near you, forcing you to discuss with him the simplest task of visiting your own family. You were still the key to his now inherited wealth, a prize that he had won with cunning and malicious tactics, and the thought of you straying into the arms of another man, who could take you, who could take even a bit of the control he held, it infuriated him to no end.

It took almost a year for you to realize that without your family, he was completely broke, and it took almost two to realize he never once held even a glimmer of fondness towards you, that he was using you. Tigris, who had spoken to you during her regular visits, had become the arms you fell into when the agony of your situation first befell you. Her hands wrapped around your body as she shushed and hummed quietly were a solace to you as the pain dawned on you. Three years after your marriage, you would speak in hushed tones over cooling tea, not bothering to hide your glare when Coriolanus bothered joining. He was no longer the subject matter of your conversations with Tigris, instead discussing gossip that had spread through the yammering mouths of Capitol citizens, and the newest trends to pass around them. She had become your dearest friend, one he couldn’t find a valid reason to hide you from. Though he never would admit while his heart was still beating, despite your shared animosity, you were still his favorite accessory.

The Reaping ceremonies for the next annual Hunger Games would begin soon, which became a sensitive topic between you and Coriolanus. It was no secret to you who Lucy Gray Baird had been, who she had been to him. What the hunger games meant to him. You resented her. Not for the place she held near his heart, but for managing to escape him before he had caged her.

The fire of your arguments was always sparked by her name, the tinder and fuel having already been prepared by the years of building resentment. Almost always in his office, your hands would shove him back as he rapidly approached you after you provoked him with harsh and unforgiving words, only fanning the flame of hatred he felt towards you. Then he would corner you, your back against the wall as one hand found your neck and the other found your hair, his fingernails digging at your scalp. His minty breath falling out of his mouth in heavy gasps as he fought the urge to kill you right there. You made him feel as though he was an animal from the districts, dirty and foaming at the mouth. And he hated that.

“You know I would never harm you.” He’d always reassure you when his grip on your throat finally loosened, his eyes taking in the way you would suck in air he had prevented from reaching your lungs. Coriolanus considered what little he allowed you, even the air you breathed, a favor. He thought himself generous, benevolent even. He wasn’t of course, and you were always quick to point that out.

Today's argument was only different in setting, within the walls of your shared bedroom rather than his office. You had shoved him, predictable, and turned to storm away, wanting to find a guest room to sleep in instead. But before you could reach the door, his hand had yanked you by your hair back towards him before nearly throwing you on the bed. When you sat up to scramble away, he shoved you back down by your shoulders and crawled on top of you, effectively pinning you to the mattress, an echo of your frequent taunts. It was rare that you two would actually be in such a position, as neither of you particularly craved intimacy with one-another, yet the way one hand slid up your negligee and gripped the curve of your thigh conveyed a much different message tonight.

“I just wish you’d shut up for once, you know that?” He growled. Coriolanus Snow was an aggressive lover. He put all his weight on his forearm strung across your chest to keep you pinned down as his fingers left their place on your thigh and slid up to the junction of your legs, cupping your heat rather aggressively before shoving them aside and sliding his fingers over your folds to find the sensitive and rather neglected bundle of nerves. You could hardly hide the shudder that overcame you as you responded.

“Fuck you!” You spat at him, writhing under his touch. Your head fell back on the luxurious sheets and you bit back a moan as he swirled his fingers in a circular motion over your clit, stirring the lust you had repressed to life. How he loved to see your eyes rolling back into your skull as you fought surrendering to his ministrations. The edges of his mouth lifted in a smug little smirk when your arousal became more evident, making your cunt slick and pliable.

Oh, how he adored to see his poor, neglected wife fall victim to her own human nature. It made him want to consume you whole, like you were a treat he got all to himself. Coriolanus’s mouth fell to your collarbone and his teeth scraped over the thin skin as he slipped his middle finger inside your sopping hole, earning an earnest mewl from your normally argumentative lips. He bit down rather hard at the junction of your neck and shoulder as he slowly, teasingly pumped his finger in and out. This would be easier than he thought.

He tilted his head back up to take in the sight of your demeanor flickering to something more vulnerable, before taking your mouth with his. He kissed you like you provided the air he needed to breathe, and you couldn’t help but reciprocate. You’d be a fool to say you didn’t still crave him after the years of strained marriage. His teeth clashed with yours as you both attempted to deepen the kiss. When he pushed another finger inside of you, hooking them and speeding up, your mouth fell open with a shaky moan, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth.

When your mother described to you what sex was like, she explained it like an intimate dance, where two souls would merge with love and passion. But it was never like that between the two of you. It was always a battle, aggressive and antagonistic as one of you sought to take something from the other. For Coriolanus, it was a display of his authority and control. His fingers quickened in pace and your hips bucked up into his hand, searching for more friction that would aid in your release. And he was benevolent wasn’t he? Who would he be to deny such a rare and primal pleasure? His fingers continued their attack on the spongy roof of your walls, pushing you closer and closer until your hand tore at the skin of his back with the intensity of your orgasm. Still seeing stars, he pulled his lips from yours and hovered them over your ear, his cheek brushing against yours, damp with tears.

“See how easy everything can be when you just stop resisting me at every turn?” You opened your mouth to respond, to bite back when the arm that pinned you down quickly shifted so his hand could cup over your mouth. He loved shutting you up. His silent voice hissed in your ear with a lingering promise. “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.”

So focused on his words and hot breath on your ear, you almost didn’t notice when he pulled his fingers from inside you to tug down your panties, discarding them somewhere behind him before fumbling with the breeches he slept in, the cold air of the room hitting his stiff cock. He brought that same hand up before him, spitting in it and spreading the wetness of his saliva over his hardened length. Barely giving you a second to process all that was happening, he pressed himself inside of you, his eyes squeezing shut and his brow furrowing as your tight, wet heat engulfed him entirely.

Having not been intimate with him in so long, it was like he was splitting you open, and you cried out with pleasure into his hand, your own lashes pressing together as you took his total length. Coriolanus didn’t remain still for long, and his hips soon began setting a bruising pace, his balls slapping against your ass as he fought the urge to moan himself, not wanting to appear any less in control than he was. Your muffled gasps spurred him on, practically driving him mad as he pummeled into you. The volume difference when he removed his hand from your mouth and forearm from your chest was quite noticeable, and his fingers wove into your hair once more, holding your head back against the bed as he swallowed your moans with his mouth.

The stinging pain of your nails in the skin of his back when they flung around him was dulled by the sheer thrill he felt taking you like this. The hand that coaxed your orgasm out of you found its way to your thigh again, pushing it up over your torso to rest on your shoulder, allowing him to thrust deeper inside of you as his fingers dug into the hot and tender skin. You nearly screamed into his mouth from the change in sensation as his hips came flush with yours over and over again. For a brief moment, he pulled away from the kiss to bite and suck at the skin of your neck, letting you sing out unmuted by his hand, as he imagined his songbird would so many years ago.

Coriolanus hated you. He hated almost everything about you. He resented you the way you resented him, but he was still addicted to you. Addicted to the control you allowed him as he fucked you stupid, to the way your pitful moans were brought about by him, to the dumb fucking look on your face as your body managed to make his hips stutter and falter as he came inside you with a low moan. He didn’t care about pulling out. You were his wife, a state figurehead, it was part of the job description to give birth to his children. Maybe getting you pregnant would even do him the favor of shutting you up. He didn’t bother helping you clean up as you readjusted your nightgown, instead opting to wipe the sweat from his brow and tuck himself back in the satin pants he intended on sleeping in.

Coriolanus Snow was not capable of real love. All those close enough to him were well-aware of that fact, including you. But when he crawled into the bed and pulled you, still breathless and trembling, up next to him, when he tucked your head into his chest in a possessive manner, your hands pressed against his heated chest, when he fell asleep holding you like you’d run away too, you momentarily convinced yourself he might have been able to love.

[hiraethwrote]

NEVER GOT YOUR NAME

✧ pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader ✧ summary: based of this drabble — you're ex is borderline harassing you. he just will not leave you alone, and in a desperate attempt to get him off your back, you tell a little white lie. in panic, you grab the first stranger to walk by and introduce him as your date ✧ cw: fluff, light profanity, one little comment about previous sexual relationship, arguing, word vomit ngl (i'm describing too much sorry) pining, reader is smaller than satoru, mild use of petnames, no use of y/n ✧ word count: 3.5k

He was a menace. A true and genuine menace, who seemed to have some sort of natural ability in finding you, no matter where you were.

Maybe getting a restraining order was the next step — there was no way he managed to just randomly run into at the rate that he was, whether that was in the grocery store, the gas station or just on the street. No, he had to be stalking you, right? The universe wouldn’t be so cruel to give this guy, your god awful ex, the privilege of fulfilling his desires of bumping into you.

Yet, here you stood in front of him again.

His eyebrows pinched together, an innocent little smirk tilting his mouth crooked, feeding you the same lines he always did.

“Great seeing you again,” like you hadn’t ran into him not even three days ago. “You look fantastic, as always. How’ve you been, sweets?” Urgh, one of the many nicknames he had named you — your stomach turning at the sound of it. You were scared you might actually hurl.

“Stop calling me that,” you demanded, keeping your voice low. He always managed to bring your anger right to the surface, to which you had to use all your energy not to blow up in his face. It had already happened once, about two months after you broke up with him. You had raised your voice at him and lashed out, causing some random bystander to interfere — who had then proceed to take his side. Unbelievable, as if he wasn’t the one who had taken you for granted for the entirety of your relationship.

“Sorry, old habits die hard, you know.” So full of shit. You’d been broken up for months, there shouldn’t have been any problem dropping the pet names. He only did it as a tactic to try and manipulate you into his arms again. And to think you willingly used to sleep with this guy. “Since we’re both here, why don’t we grab lunch together?”

“Oh, please,” you breathed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“It’ll be good for us, sweets-“ don’t punch him, don’t punch him, don’t punch him. “Maybe we can talk some things-“

“I’m actually here on a date!”

Finally he shut up, only for his face to twist into an expression of pure disgust. It was clear the idea had never even crossed his mind — and you would have been able to enjoy his agony had it not been for the fact that it was a complete and utter lie, thrown out in a moment of desperation.

What were you to do when your ex decided to wait around for your date to arrive, and he never showed? You could already picture his face — the patronising pity he would pay you, while you’d be able to read his satisfaction behind his eyes, as he would use it against you for months to come.

You had only bought yourself some time and you needed to think fast.

“Who? I mean, do I know them? Have you met them before?” He stuttered out questions of bewilderment as your limbs were growing ever more frantic at your side.

And then the bell above the entrance of the cafe chimed a sweet tune, eyes snapping towards the sound. “Ah, there he is!” Your arms acted on their own accord, hands grabbing onto the bicep of the person who had been so unfortunate to walk in right as you were spiralling.

Swallowing the worst of your anxiety, you dared turn your head towards the random person, hoping to god he wasn’t ugly (because that would just be yet another thing your ex would badger you about).

Due to his height, you had to angle your head more than expected to meet his piercing eyes that were ogling you with complete confusion — but you only had time to take in his appearance for a slit second before you shot him a pleading look, betting everything on the off chance that he would be able to read the situation — but also finding it in himself to play along to your little performance.

Your fingers squeezed lightly at his arm, bringing him back to reality. Then it only took him a second to make up his mind, the white haired stranger wiping off his confusion and confidently throwing his muscular arm across your shoulders. Once he turned to face your ex, he had painted his features with the smuggest grin one could imagine, revealing a charming dimple.

He tilted forward slightly, which only brought more attention to how much taller he was than your ex, and shot his hand out between them. “Satoru, pleasure to meet you.” His tone matched his expression, not a single speckle of insecurity to pick up on anywhere. Your ex stared at his hand with disdain before begrudgingly accepting the gesture and introducing himself in return. “Hm, don’t think she’s mentioned you.”

Your lips parted in surprise, not expecting this Satoru to take his role so seriously — and then put on an award winning show right off the bat, nonetheless. Was it finally your turn to be blessed by the universe with some good karma in the shape of the most perfect stranger to deal with the situation?

Turning to take a quick glance at your ex, you had to press your lips together to choke back the cackle that threatened to escape. His expression was priceless, Satoru’s innocent little comment rolling of his tongue so effortlessly, causing a slight twitch in your ex’s eye.

“Well, I’m her-“ then he cleared his throat, struggling to finish his sentence. You weren’t surprised his title died in his throat, having never really accepted the fact that the relationship with over.

“He’s my ex,” you said, finding some courage to casually place your hand on Satoru’s chest, hoping and begging you weren’t making him uncomfortable by crossing a line.

“Aaah, your ex,” this Satoru trialed off with an awkward raise of the eyebrows before he turned to look at you again. That’s when you finally got to take a proper look at his breathtaking eyes, the whole ocean trapped in his irises. But you couldn’t let yourself fall completely mesmerised — you shook off the affect his piercing eyes seemed to have. “Sorry I’m running a little late. I stopped by the bookstore down the street to see if they had that book you recommended on our first date.” Then he served you what seemed like a genuine smile.

Stop, not the time to admire the handsome stranger!

You bashfully tilted your head forward while the sweetest chuckle traveled past your lips, also having to sell the performance. “How sweet of you to remember.”

“Of course!” He smoothly removed his arm from your shoulder to slide it along your back, moving it in comforting circles — but he never let it travel too far.

Your ex had his glare glued to Satoru’s gesture, unable to look away no matter how badly he wanted to.

“Never got around to that one,” your ex said with an awkward, forced laugh in an attempt to shift the attention back to him. He probably thought he was being charming (he always thought he was), but his little comment only gave you another reminder to why you had broken up with him — he never cared about your interests, as he couldn’t be bothered to pick up your favourite book, no matter how many times you had asked him if he could at least give it a try.

“Huh, how unfortunate.” Again, your ex couldn’t conceal the little reaction Satoru caused in his face by his incredibly taunting tone.

He cleared his throat again, and you could see how he was grasping at straws trying to redeem himself. “So, what do you have planned?” It wasn’t too obvious, but you could tell — you could tell he asked as a challenge, certain your “date” wouldn’t be able to suffice an answer that would leave him satisfied.

You opened your mouth to answer, but only managed to take a breath before Satoru had already started his lengthy explanation. “Well, first I’m taking her out for lunch, obviously,” he mused, taking a quick glance around your surroundings. “And I didn’t want to ruin the surprise, but I got us entrance tickets for the botanical garden uptown. She told me she’s been wanting to go for months.” Then he turned to look at you.

He said it with such a genuine smile painting the corner of his lips, both of you letting the eye contact linger for a second. For once you were thankful for your ex, because if it wasn’t for him drawing Satoru’s alluring eyes away, you were scared you might just have found yourself swooning a little.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” your ex chuckled in response with a nonchalant eye roll, “she might have mentioned it once or twice.”

“Hm,” Satoru huffed, sucking in his cheeks and eyeing him up and down

Pathetic was really the only word that Satoru would use to best describe the individual in front of him. He just seemed so puny, reeking of insecurity, only amplified by how he had so easily went along with the lie of a botanical garden — something Satoru had just pulled from the top of his head.

A huge, nervous lump traveled down his throat as Satoru held his gaze hostage, his dominant behaviour easily smothering any sprinkle of confidence your ex might have possessed at one point — all by just being there. And it was just so satisfying that it was finally your turn to watch your no-good ex being the one who was tormented for once.

“Well-“ his voice cracked the slightest, Satoru pursing his lips in amusement at the little slip, “I have to get going now. I’ll see you around,” stumbling over his words as his face shyly grew redder. Then he just turned on his heel and left, leaving no time for you to even say goodbye.

Satoru instantly felt your body relax at his side with a deep exhale, the hand that had shyly rested on his chest with modesty falling the second the door was shut — and once you took a step in front of him, he became hyper aware of how close to him you had been the entire time. With the sudden absence of your body next to his, he realised how perfectly you had just seemed to fit next to him. Nearly as if you had been made simply to be by his side.

And stood in front of him, he finally got the chance to take a look at you. A proper look at you, and damn, you were beautiful. Your eyes were kind, which amazed him considering the unpleasant encounter that had just taken place.

The chuckle you’d faked along with his act was still resting on your lips, but now it definitely seemed more real — warm.

“Thank you so much!” You gushed, “I am so sorry I just dragged you into that! I was panicking.”

Satoru watched intently as you spoke, unable to peer his eyes off you. His attention held on to every syllable, entirely captivated by your person, eyes roaming your face to take in every little detail there was to observe.

“Shit,” you suddenly interrupted yourself, taking a glance at your watch.

“I never caught-“

“I really wish I could stay and treat you for lunch, as thanks,” you cut him off, seemingly not even acknowledging how he had tried to speak, rummaging through your bag frantically before pulling out your wallet, “but because of him I’m running late. So, here, take this,” you chuckled lightly while stuffing his hands full of cash. “I really appreciate what you did!” Satoru was barely able to decode what you were saying as it all came tumbling out in one breath.

Continuing to spew a string of thank you’s, you quickly backed out of the cafe, his eyes following you as you jogged lightly down the street and out of sight.

Satoru was left utterly baffled, simply ogling the vacated spot you had occupied seconds ago.

Of all the times Satoru would end up tongue tied, this was the worst possible moment — he was cursing himself relentlessly for not being quick enough to demand a name, and now you were just gone, some random person he’d been lucky enough to cross paths with for a moment.

He knew he should just get on with his day — use the money you had gifted him and buy himself that sweet treat he wanted and forget about you. But he couldn’t — he wouldn't.

Had you just decided to walk into a random cafe you had just so happened to walk past that particular day?

Satoru certainly thought so. Because when he couldn’t rid you from his mind, he had gone back to that very same cafe, childlike optimism filling his body while he lingered the area, waiting for your figure to show.

It never did.

His patience quickly ran out, growing more restless every day that passed where he didn’t see you stroll down the street to return to the cafe to grab the lunch you never got to have.

He couldn’t let it rest in the hands of the universe any longer. After days of casually stalking the area, he decided to strut through the entrance of the building to simply ask.

“And how can I help you today, sir?” The sweet girl behind the counter mused, the perfect customer service smile greeting him as he leaned his entire weight in the edge of the counter.

“Hi there, remember me?”

He saw her shoulders rise slightly as she took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I don’t,” yet another polite smile.

“I was in here about three weeks ago. Was with this really pretty girl-“

“Sir,” she gently interrupted him, still the same smile on her face, “we see hundred of faces every day. We have no way of remembering them all.”

His head fell back dramatically, huffing in disappointment as his fingers flexed against the marble top. “Thanks, anyway,” he mumbled quietly, shuffling over to a secluded table in the corner, sulking in his lonesome while his eyes were locked on the door, still filled with a light glimmer of hope that you would show.

It became routine — sitting in the same corner in the back, ordering the same thing while he waited for three hours everyday before he eventually had to leave, with a heavy heart, to attend to his duties.

And if the nice barista didn’t recognise him before, she definitely did now, walking over to his table and serving him his plate with a sympathetic smile. “No show today either?” The most theatrical sigh would leave his lips every time she asked the question, sad puppy dog eyes on display as he shook his head. “Sorry, buddy.”

“It’s getting a little sad, don’t you think?” Her coworker would comment once she rejoined her behind the counter, both of them keeping an eye on him with pinched eyebrows.

“I don’t know,” she breathed, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s a little romantic.”

Then they would share a look, some judgement passing between their eyes before they burst into innocent laughter, wondering how long they would get to witness his yearning before he eventually gave up his dreams of finding you again.

For days, Satoru’s head would snap towards the door every time the tiny bell rang, witnessing all sorts of people come to enjoy a little treat but not a single one of them fit your description.

Maybe this was just too hopeless? Tokyo was the most populated city in the world — bumping into the same person twice was like finding a needle in a high stack. Scratch that, it was like finding a rice grain in the great Sahara desert. But he kept praying, hoping the universe would bless him with his desire.

It was a perfectly okay day.

The temperature was nice — higher than expected for a mid-fall day — but the weather wasn’t much to brag about. For the past week it had been raining. Not pouring, but a light, constant drizzle that tapped quietly against the cafe window as Satoru stared mindlessly out at the scenery of concrete buildings and trees changing colour.

There was only a single string of hope that kept him sitting in that chair day after day, but it was destined to break soon. His head didn’t even turn towards the door anymore when that little bell rang with the familiar chime. He simply rested his chin in the palm of his hand, giving all the responsibility back to the universe.

The familiar barista came to his table, picking up the plate littered with only crumps and not one, but two, empty coffee mugs (that had been more sugar than coffee).

“Same time tomorrow?” She asked sweetly, wiping the table clean while balancing the dishes in her other hand.

He instantly wiped away his disappointment, plastering on the most convincing smile he could muster as he turned to face her. “I don’t think so.” She stared wide eyed at him, mouth parted into a shy ‘o’, a little disappointed to see him finally give up, having started to root for him a long time ago. “You’ve had exceptional service,” he beamed from ear to ear as he got up from his chair, her eyes never leaving him as he stood to tower over her.

He gave her one last tight lipped smile as he passed her. “Goodbye,” she stuttered quietly, keeping her pitying gaze on him as he headed for the exit.

The bell rang one last time, and Satoru was a little relieved he wouldn’t have to hear the obnoxiously high-pitching ding again — his relief short lasted as he crashed into a figure smaller than himself the second he was about to exit.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t watching- well, if it isn’t my knight in shining armour!”

What were the chances?

After all those days — waiting, staring, stuffing his face with sweets — and to think he was just about to give up. Maybe the universe had finally decided to take pity on him, wanting to reward his patience.

You looked as breathtaking as the day you had desperately latched onto his arm — maybe even better. You seemed lighter almost, as if someone had lifted off pounds from your shoulders. Same kind eyes, but a sense of peace glossing over them instead of frustration.

“It’s you,” it fell from his lips involuntary.

“In the flesh,” you chuckled. The sweet, vibrating sound faded into a clear of the throat when Satoru only continued to ogle you without a word. “Oh, sorry, you were leaving-“ you stuttered, stepping aside to let him pass. You were left confused when he didn’t walk past you, but rather kept his glare on you.

“I never got your name.”

“Sorry?” You asked, his voice too quiet to pick up on.

The same smug grin you’d seen on his face so many weeks ago greeted you, swallowing the nervous lump in your throat. “I never got your name,” more assertive now that he had increased his volume.

“Oh,” you said shyly, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. Eyeing his attractive smile, you let your name roll off your tongue before mirroring his expression of happiness.

If it was even possible, his smile stretched even further across his face, the dimples you’d noticed last time appearing on each side of his face. “Nice to finally meet you. Properly this time.”

His natural charm just steamed off him in abundance, something you had only appreciated in glimpses in your stressed haze. “You too,” you smiled.

“I haven’t seen you here since that day.”

“Well, that’s because I haven’t been here since then,” you chucked nervously, glancing towards the register when you felt some interrogating eyes on you — both of the girls behind the counter wringing their heads away from you and Satoru. “My ex has had a tendency to linger in areas we ‘bump’ into each other,” you raise your fingers to gesture the quotation marks, “but I actually think meeting you might have scared him off for good. Haven’t seen him since, so thank you again.”

“Truly my pleasure,” he straightened his posture, his height growing even more impressive. He spoke your name, and despite not really knowing you, he said it with a tenderness your ex always lacked. “I was wondering,” he took a step closer, his eyes flittering between yours, “I owe you a trip to a botanical garden, don’t you think?”

Your breath instantly hitched in your throat, heat spreading modestly across your face.

Of course the handsome stranger who had come to your rescue in a moment of genuine despair had crossed your mind from time to time since then — you had just come to terms with the fact you would never be as lucky to cross paths with the polite stranger again. And the part of you that had been plagued with embarrassment was okay with that.

But the excitement in his eyes as he waited for you to answer slowly erased the uncomfortable feeling.

“Sure, I’d like that.”

tags (taglist form) @sad-darksoul ﾉ @05-simply-06-simping ﾉ @geniejunn ﾉ @alixris ﾉ @shadava

@gdamnackerman ﾉ @sunfl0werlevi ﾉ @gojonegs ﾉ @m0nsterzl0ve

@cupidxml ﾉ @lashaemorow ﾉ @cirquedelooney ﾉ @itsinherited

@elenor222 ﾉ @mima0127 ﾉ @lem-hhn ﾉ @mechanicalmari

a/n it's finally here and i think i'm happy with it... not entirely sure. think i've seen myself blind on this fic. however, thank you so much for the reception on the little drabble that took me literally ten minutes to write, hope this lives up to your expectations <3 likes, comments and reblogs is much appreciated

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[myballsitchaurghouchie]

I like to think that while serving TOWW the Lamb can never actually sleep, 1) because they get nightmares of their previous life, death, the creatures they kill, etc whenever they do (MAYBE caused by TOWW), and 2) because they feel obligated to dedicate every single thing they do to TOWW, and sleeping would only be a waste of time that could be used for more useful things (tending to the cult and crusading).

Another thing is the Lamb using very manipulative behavior/tactics to convince people to be in their cult and remain; basically be more like actual cult leaders. Prohibiting others to cook, making followers feel valued at random/when they show doubt in their faith, being passive agressive to potential dissenters, implying they are safe only in the cult which is in the middle of nowhere, isolation yara yara. Fun stuff thumbs up emoji

More art, EYE STRAIN CW

[sauteedapple]

COME GET YOUR BABY

Let me tell you there's only one thing better than pining, and that's balls to the wall upfront confessions baby!

The jjk characters finding out you're going on a date!

Part 1 Including: Gojo, Nanami, Yaga, Yuki, Shoko, Kashimo, Ijichi & Kusakabe Part 2 Including: Geto, Toji, Choso, Ino, Higuruma, Sukuna, Uraume, Shiu & Utahime

CW: fluff, jealousy, not-so-subtle manipulation tactics, mild sexual references, profanity.

A/N: can be read alongside 'where, oh, where is my four-leaf clover?' but also can be read as a stand alone. eat up! ヽ(*⌒▽⌒*)ﾉ

MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

© All rights reserved to @sauteedapple on tumblr.com. ANY(INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO)DISTRIBUTIONS, TRANSLATIONS AND PLAGIARISMS OF @sauteedapple's WORKS BY OTHER PARTIES ARE PROHIBITED.

[luvyeni]

( reaction ) how yandere enha keeps you under control ! ୨୧ 一 엔하이픈 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ what enhypen does to keep you stuck inside ヾ

yandere!엔하이픈・ fem!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ horror ‎, angst ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ ‎ wc ・ ‎n/a ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

request. what personal measures do u think each member of enhypen takes to keep you with them? like for example having cameras 24/7 to watch you or like having pre planned traps rdy for u when u try to escape? yandere pls🙏

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 thank you for requesting i hope you like it <3

﹙ 𐙚 : jungwon﹚ .ᐟ

cameras all around the house; no area is uncovered. he can see you at all times , when you wake up , when you're sleeping , even when you're showering. he checks those cameras all the time , and if he isn't home , he locks the door to the bedroom , there's a bathroom , a mini fridge and a tv programmed with spywear he can control. you don't need anything else , and you have no business going outside anyway

﹙ 𐙚 : heeseung﹚ .ᐟ

knows he can't just leave you tied up— besides where is the fun in that? so he installed an alarm that is triggered by the front door opening. the alarm is so loud it can be heard from down the hall of your apartment together, and enough to spook you back into the apartment which immediately makes the alarm shuts off. it also sends a message to his phone , so he knows you tried to leave , so you can't lie to him.

﹙ 𐙚 : jay﹚ .ᐟ

those pretty diamond earrings he bought you? yeah there's trackers inside each of them — trackers that goes off the moment you try and leave the front door , he watches you in between his meetings , he even knows where you are inside the house he's not stupid , he knows if you take them off too , don't think he's stupid , that's exactly why he bought you a pretty gold bracelet that you can never take off , which also contains a tracker… so it's safe to say he'll never not know where you are.

﹙ 𐙚 : jake﹚ .ᐟ

jake is delusional , he has everything; cameras, alarm systems — you even wear a bracelet that has a tracker inside. even with all that he still chooses to work from home to keep an eye on you , he just doesn't believe all that would work so if you do try and get out of the apartment he'll stop you and work on his try where he basically manipulates you stay.

﹙ 𐙚 : sunghoon﹚ .ᐟ

sunghoon doesn't need any tactics or alarms to keep you by his side; you love your family right? your friends are doing good right? he knows that and that's how he keeps you. you want to leave? go ahead and he'll kill someone close to you. would he ever do it? kill someone you hold so close to you? he doesn't know , you always come back before he can even get to the best part — trust he's waiting for you to break the rules far enough for him to try , your best friend has been getting on his nerves.

﹙ 𐙚 : sunoo﹚ .ᐟ

sunoo trusts you, he loves you and he knows you'd never leave him — that security alarm is only there just in case. he knows you get frustrated and want to take really long walks and he doesn't trust the people outside , they'll hurt you so he needs this alarm to keep you safe , even if the alarm is in your bedroom , and is only on when he's not home , or if he's about to take a nap or if you've run away a few days prior.

﹙ 𐙚 : ni-ki﹚ .ᐟ

much like sunghoon; ni-ki doesn't use cameras or alarms. he thinks there stupid even, if you can't control your girlfriend do you even deserve to have one? at first in the early stages of your relationship he'd use a rope to die you up. but as your relationship grew and he became more and more dangerous, you soon were too afraid to leave , all he had to do was give you that look , the that he's not above hitting you look and you're obeying him , he'd never hit you , but he's thrown enough things to scare you into thinking he would.

©LUVYENI

[love-toxin]

would yandere Charles Xavier...baby trap his beloved?

OH......YEAH!!!! <3

(cws: DDDNE, fem!reader, crazy fucked up n-con, babytrapping, drunk sex, drugging, pregnancy talk, jealousy, dirty talk, super manipulative yandere charles)

I'm thinking Days of Future Past Charles again....the yearning. The loving glimpses of the life with you he let slip through his fingers. Every day that he's without you is painful, but when he finds you again, he's complete.

There's no way he can let that happen again. Ever. You belong to him. You're part of him. He's become so disillusioned by your reappearance in his life that he can't focus on anything but you. If you let him, all he would do is make love to you every day, kiss you, hold you in his arms, sweep your feet out from under you and carry you wherever you wanted to go. Even when you plead with him to stop taking the drugs, he's just so hooked on the feeling of being there for you that he wants his legs more than his powers. Plus, the sex is incredible when his mind isn't filled with thoughts and worries, and he can move around as freely as he wants. And part of it is perhaps willful ignorance--there's a quiet part of him that doesn't want to hear any negative thoughts in your head. He wants to live in the blissful delusion that you're just as obsessed with him as he is with you, that you want all the same things he does.

And one of those is, well...home. Charles is tired of the people he loves cycling in and out--he's sick of losing people and watching everything he cares about slip away slowly. He has a place to call home, but nothing to fill it with that's distinctly his. It's been a shelter for so long, for Raven, for the X Men, for his students, but he craves something more. Family.

But you can give him that. It would be a blessing, wouldn't it? On good days he watches the way you move, how your eyes light up with your laughter, the sun setting a glow over your skin. It's crude, but he can't help it; you would look so good pregnant. You'd get a cute waddle in your walk, a bump, and you'd have to rely on him so much more to help you when you're far along. He could put a ring on your finger and try for your first the very same night--nobody has to know you haven't had the wedding yet, and who would even care?

When you start having sex regularly, on the daily now that Charles has his muse back, it's obvious he's being risky. Coaxing you into letting him slip the rubber off, so sincere as he promises you he'll pull out...but each time he gets close, so close, that you have to keep your wits about you just to make sure you cry for him to slow down before he lets it get out of hand. The twitching and pulsing and throbbing inside you is so good, but you know Charles is acting strange about doing it unprotected. You gain a sense that he's hiding something but you want to trust your beloved, so you neglect to insist on using condoms again.

That's your own mistake. Charles tries to convince you to let him cum in you, at least once, but he gets more insistent around the time you should be ovulating. It's even harder for you to resist him at that time, but you manage to hold your ground--until he resorts to truly dirty tactics, and gets the two of you drunk while you've got the mansion all to yourselves. As usual, he's handsy right off the bat, kissing you while his belt buckle digs into your soft thigh. He just barely manages to guide you upstairs while he stumbles himself, laughing and cackling along with you as you lean on each other and teeter about the corridor like the drunken fools you are.

As it turns out, Charles is a pretty good actor. And as badly as he feels about it initially, mixing that powder into your drink really did make it easier for him to get his way--you're already fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, and when you trip and fall back against the floor as you stumble into his bedroom, all you can do is giggle dazedly with your eyes closed like you're floating on cloud nine. As he crawls on top of you to help you up (with no intention of actually doing so) he's deft in hiking up your skirt, and though in your drunken state you're conscious enough to tease about him not being as wasted as he seemed, your addled mind has no idea just how true that turns out to be.

When his buckle finally comes loose and he's slowly sliding it in, it's paradise. Your body is willing and your mind is void of common sense; you're barely staying awake as he takes you right there on the floor, skirt pooled around your hips as Charles mutters praises under his breath. "Right there, so tight--such a good mother, you'll make such a good mother, darling-" He can't stop, he might just be addicted to your drugged pussy from that moment on. It's foul, it's disgusting, it's wrong, but when he hitches his hips right up against yours and sucks in a deep breath, knowing you can't say no to what he's about to do, he feels more at peace than he has in years. His shoes squeak against the hardwood as he struggles to pin you down, your limbs twitching and flailing erroneously while he's working on making you a sweet little baby to take care of in the future. Charles eventually resorts to holding your head down with his palm, your cheek pressed to the floor that vibrates with the strength of his thrusts into your pliant body.

"You need this," he mutters under his breath, fighting the guilt settling in his chest at your growing whimpers for mercy. "Last time you ever fucking leave me, whore."

Mmh. Well, maybe he's a little drunk after all. The anger at your disappearance still simmers near the surface, and that betrayal isn't one so easily forgiven. You should be trained out of it so you never make that mistake again. Perhaps becoming a doting mom will fix that defect in you, just as he hopes it fixes the deranged, vile forces inside of him that would have him lure you into something as debased as this. With every plap of his hips growing sticky with your slick, Charles can sense those urges screaming out for him to make you his.

In a haze, he orders you to shut up, to stop that incessant whining and try to enjoy what he's giving you. When you try wiggling your hips away, feebly attempting to escape the pleasure growing harder to resist, he yanks you back on his length and bruises your tits in his rough hands as recompense. If he wasn't intent on impregnating you, he would flip you over and show you how mean he can really get--but he has a job to do first, and he won't let you out from under him until you can't walk without spilling his seed. Even if Erik never laid a hand on you during these long years apart, you still chose another man to scamper off with, and that will never happen again....not if you're all swollen with his baby.

"I-I'll swallow it, Ch-Charlie-" You slur, trailing off into mindless blabber as he bends your knees back to your chest. So cute. You think you can talk yourself out of it, but he's already there--already bursting at the seams with the promise of new life, already biting down on your neck like a hound as the heat overwhelms him and fills you with ropes of thick, virile cum. So potent your body already eases to welcome him in, and your walls tighten and clench when he pulls out, like you don't want to spill even a drop.

You're so fucking drunk, you can't even keep your head up. You look a right sloppy mess, laying there with your skirt pulled up and cum pooling underneath your hips, as if you're some used sex doll that's been kicked under the bed after serving your purpose. But Charles would never think of you that way, and he wants you to know that; Erik may have stolen you away and poisoned your mind against him, but he clearly abandoned you too once he'd taken everything he wanted from you. Yes, he may have taken advantage of you now in a sickening way, but it was for a good reason, wasn't it?

Yes, it was for all the right reasons. Charles has to tell himself that to stave off the guilt that follows, the tension in your shoulders when next he touches you and the fear of him that may never go away. Soon, you'll see that his efforts have borne fruit. And when you tear up and collapse in a panic at the result of the test in your hands, Charles, your Charlie, will be right there to soothe you with promises that everything will be alright.

[prentissluvr]

but daddy i love him — sam winchester

cw : gn!empath!reader, light angst, fluff, some canon typical violence, demons, mentions of weapons, emotional manipulation/some emotional abuse in reader's past/presence, dean's kinda mean for a bit, kissing, food/drink mentions, poor editing, 11.3K words. listen to but daddy i love him by taylor swift. requested !

summary : you were raised sheltered from the world, but once you meet sam, you come to understand what freedom means. ౨ৎ . . . [ empath : has the ability to read and manipulate anyone's emotions. not the psychology kind lol ]

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

you’re not a demon, though you’re certainly no angel. in all technically, you suppose that you’re closer to a demon since they used to be human. not that you’d want to be put in the same box as any single demon, but you know that they feel some emotions. angels, you’re told, do not. to you, that’s quite a strange concept. someday, you’d like to meet one to see if it’s true.

and though you are not a demon, you’ve learned very well how to be like one, or at the very least how to feel like one. this is only helpful because your uncle, the demon who raised you (who is not your real uncle, nor related to you at all) wants you to be just like him. that implies being entirely uncaring and mostly unfeeling, with the exceptions for feelings being guiltless, hatred, annoyance, generally anything negative and parallel with aggression, and pleasure in the face of enacting pain or evil things upon somebody else.

having been surrounded by exactly that for as long as you can remember, you have no trouble pretending to be that way. in actuality, you find it totally impossible to embody it in truth. you, opposite to demons, are especially in tune with all aspects of your humanity. this does include the bad, but you’ve spent your life clinging to and longing for the good. plus, you don’t particularly enjoy experiencing the constant negativity that rolls off of most demons and right onto you. although your powers are geared towards other humans and you can’t read or manipulate demons’ emotions as easily, you learned to use your powers on them before anything else.

today, you accompany a crossroads demon, as per usual. your uncle has you trying a new tactic to aid in soul-collection. unfortunately for you, it's been working well and you have to pretend more often than not that your powers are failing you when they’re working just fine. you feel like a door-to-door salesman for guaranteed painful death and torture until one’s humanity is ripped away, all under the guise of pretty or petty dreams come true.

your accompanying demon, russell, is one of your least favorites. you don’t really like any of them, but unfortunately, russell is one of your uncle’s most trusted. you think it’s stupid, because you’re able to tell that he’s a coward and most likely not as trust-worthy as your uncle thinks. personally, you just find him annoying.

russell approaches the next house, knocking on the door as you lag behind. the man at the last house sold his soul in exchange to look ten years younger. not everyone exchanges their lives for such stupid reasons, but when they do, it makes you feel extra disgusted by the work you have to participate in. but for the sake of fooling your uncle, you pretend to enjoy it. someday, you might get away… you just don’t know what you’d do or how you’d survive.

the owner of the house opens the door, and the second she sees you and russell, dressed in suits and smiling all fake, her annoyance and skepticism immediately become apparent to you. your first order of business is to push that away and replace it with openness, curiosity, and a little bit of desire to get her to listen to you. since you “failed” at the first three houses and were successful at the last one, russell expects you to make this one work as well. it takes a bit of concentration to keep everything subtle and slow so that she doesn’t notice anything too strange.

when she greets you, she smiles a little and you know that you were successful. you let russell do all the talking as you continually feed the woman more desire and assuredness. little by little, you tug at her hesitation, pulling it away as russell gives her his pitch.

“anything you could ever dream of for the small price of your soul!” he lies about how small of a price it is and you mask your abundant discomfort. the more and better you do for your uncle, the more he lets you off of your figurative leash. the woman, mrs. hadley, as she introduced herself, is on the verge of saying yes. you’re seated in the living room as she goes on about how her one wish is for her young son to be treated well at school. you debate sabotaging the deal to save her, when the door bangs open and two men burst into the house, both sporting various weapons.

mrs. hadley screams and your concentration snaps. immediately, her fear and confusion wash over you, along with everything else that the two men and russell are feeling. suddenly quite overwhelmed, you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment before remembering you’re under threat. russell curses loudly, and when you snap your eyes open, he’s halfway across the room as he sprints full speed for the back door.

“sam!” shouts one of the men, nodding towards you and the frightened mrs. hadley as he takes off after russell. the other man, now dubbed sam, points his knife at you and begins rehearsing a latin exorcism.

“i’m not a demon, i swear,” you say, slowly standing and putting your hands up in surrender. his eyebrows furrow in confusion. you also sense his urgency and protectiveness, but you don’t sense as much aggression in him as you’d expected. the rush of that which you’d felt before must have been from the other man.

“then what are you?” he asks, voice gruff as he slowly approaches, trying to carefully manuever in between you and mrs. hadely.

“i’m human,” you answer, honest but withholding the full truth. “i promise,” you plead, trying to gauge his reaction without actually manipulating his feelings. when sam reaches mrs. hadley, he holds his arm in front of her protectively. there’s still fear and utter confusion rolling off of her.

“wh–what the hell is going on?” she asks, voice panicked.

“it’s alright,” sam reassures, trying to be as gentle as possible. “you just can’t make that deal. it’ll get you killed.”

“what? killed, i– but it seemed– it seemed fine?” you can feel doubt creep into mrs. hadley as well as she questions why she trusted you and russell so much without any real reason.

“trust me, whatever they promised you, it’s not worth it,” sam emphasizes. mrs. hadely goes to speak again, but sam returns his attention back to you. “what are you doing with a demon?”

“i… they have me trapped,” you say in a half-lie.

he clenches his jaw, but most of his distrust subsides because he feels more concerned for mrs. hadley than you. he tucks his knife somewhere accessible, and turns to the woman to comfort her. he tries to explain without too much detail that she should never sell her soul to anyone, but that it’s best if she tries to forget this all. but it’s clear to both you and him that she’s just panicking more and more. you easily read the way that sam wants to help her and it makes you want to do the same.

you mean to just send mrs. hadley a touch of calm and comfort, just so sam can get through to her. but you yourself are panicked and overwhelmed, never having been in such an out-of-control situation, and your strong desire to help her comes out unfiltered and unhindered by your usual careful control when you deal with humans. suddenly, mrs. hadley is grinning from joy, even laughing a little. for a moment, this seems fine to you. you fixed her fear, didn’t you?

but sam turns even more confused and worried. this, in turn, confuses you and breaks your concentration, and she falls back into an even stronger fear as she realizes starkly that she’s been experiencing emotions that aren’t her own.

she bursts into tears. “what– what was that?” she cries. you feel quite overwhelmed by her strong emotions.

you frown deeply. “i– i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to– i mean, i was just trying to help. i didn’t want want you to feel so afraid. i can help, though, i promise. i just– i was distracted and humans can be so sensitive.” you begin to approach with your hands still in the air, but you halt when her fear spikes even more and sam’s hesitance returns in full. they don’t want you near. you consider manipulating both of their emotions, just to get them to allow you closer, but you think better of it at the last second. they might grow even more wary if they notice the change in their own feelings.

“did you do that?” sam asks.

you deflate in guilt. “i’m sorry,” you say again, filling your voice with sincerity, “i didn’t mean to scare you,” you look at mrs. hadley, then proceed carefully, “but i can help, just a little, i won’t do anything crazy– i– i can’t do anything crazy, i promise. and i can make sure that no one ever bothers you again. you don’t have to let me close if you don’t want me to, but i really can help. just to… to calm things down a little and– and leave a little room for you to process. or, of course, i can just go and you’ll never see me or that guy again.” you look between sam and mrs. hadley, trying to calm yourself so you can get a proper read on both of their emotions without overloading yourself with all the information. mrs. hadley is just about as confused and scared as before, but you think that sam’s reassuring presence is helping her. you’re not so sure that your words have done anything to help. sam himself is still hesitant, but as some of his wariness slips away, you think he might be willing to hear you out or at least let you go unscathed.

“oh, you’re not going anywhere,” comes a gruff voice from behind you, along with the kiss of cold metal on the back of your neck. it’s a gun, you presume. you slowly lift your hands back up, having forgotten about the other man’s presence when he disappeared to take care of russell. you turn your attention to his feelings instead of the other two in case you need to use your powers to try and save yourself. he’s got aggression, calm anger, and a whole lot of protectiveness practically spilling out of him. he thinks you’re dangerous. he’s not necessarily wrong, but you really aren’t a danger to them, not unless you have to be.

“i’m telling the truth, i swear. please, just– just let me go.” you keep your voice steady, but pleading, trying not to let on just how scared you are but also appeal to their sympathy. you’re in danger, something that you’re completely unused to despite the way you grew up all around it.

“and let you get back to those demon bitches? not a chance. what even are you?” the man’s voice is unforgiving as he digs the gunpoint further into your skin, pressing for answers. you wince.

“dean, wait,” sam interrupts, “i don’t think they’re trying to hurt anyone,” he says, trying to reason before dean gets any more violent.

“sam, they’re clearly working with demons. i think that qualifies as trying to hurt people. we don’t even know if they’re human,” dean counters.

you’re about to speak again in your own defense when a familiar voice fills your ears.

“it’s always you boys, isn’t it? i should have known that the winchesters would crash my little soul-collecting party,” your uncle drawls.

“crowley,” sam growls, and you’re suddenly flooded with his anger.

your uncle completely ignores sam in favor of dean. “i kindly ask that you let my sweet pet go, squirrel.”

dean turns around, pulling you with him. “so they’re with you?” dean asks, voice accusatory.

“they are. and if you don’t hand them over, i will knock you out cold without a second thought. your choice, of course, darling,” crowley quips. you’re highly confused. the three clearly know each other, but your uncle has never mentioned anyone like the “winchesters” before. dean grows even more suspicious of you, sam confused and worried, and you know very well that crowley is only barely covering up his total anger. he’s anything but pleased to have found you in this situation.

“tell me why, and i’ll hand them over,” dean bargians, not realizing just how much he’s pissing crowley off. your uncle doesn’t even wait to answer before sending dean flying across the room and grabbing your wrist.

“let’s go,” he grumbles, tugging you along with him. you glance back at sam, who moves forward, trying to stop crowley until he too gets flung into the wall.

“uncle!” you shout in protest. “wait, i need to–”

“absolutely not,” he shouts back, “what the hell were you thinking? how’d you mess up a simple deal so horribly?”

“i’m sorry,” you apologize, suddenly remembering yourself. he’ll only grow more angry if you continue to protest.

“damn those winchesters,” he grumbles to himself. as he drags you home, he continually complains about them, cursing that you got mixed up with them and pounding into your head that you should never, ever get involved with the winchesters.

⟢⟢⟢

honeybee cafe is just about the only solace that you have. it’s away from your uncle and the other demons, the place you always come when you’re allowed out without supervision. on top of that, it’s small and quiet, and you never visit during crowded hours. technically, you’re required by crowley to stay somewhere with other people so you can practice your powers on them. you picked this cafe for it’s cozy, quiet atmosphere, and the general lack of patrons from one to three pm. that way, you’re never overwhelmed by too many emotions. it’s usually just you, another regular or two, and the few workers. maybe it’s a little odd, but you feel secretly close with the people whose emotions you tune into over and over again. and you certainly don’t manipulate their emotions as crowley likely wishes you would.

you always sit in the corner furthest from the door, facing the rest of the small shop so that you can keep an eye on anyone who comes in or chooses to stay inside. sitting with your favorite beverage and a book you picked up from the library beforehand, you relish the comfort and warmth of the sunlight coming in from the window behind you. your room at home has no windows, and that just about kills you. you love windows.

only the soft tinkle of the bell on the cafe door interrupts the focus you lend to the book in front of you, and you look up on instinct. your breath catches in your throat as you immediately recognize the man who walks in. he doesn’t notice you, but you watch him as he orders a coffee. as he waits off to the side, you turn slightly, and you’re too late to cast your eyes down before he catches your gaze. his face lights up in recognition and surprise. he takes a step towards you before he’s interrupted by the barista’s call of his name. quickly, he takes the cup from their hand and thanks them before turning back to you. you weren’t planning on speaking to him, not after your strange first encounter and crowley’s warnings against him, but you feel an odd sort of relief when it becomes clear that he wants to approach you, to talk to you. he had left an impression on you when you’d met. he’d just seemed so… good.

his eyes flicker around the cafe as he comes closer, likely looking for signs of demons.

“i’m alone,” you assure him, smiling carefully as he gets close enough. he nods, slowly sitting across from you when you nod at the seat. “though i have to be back by evening or someone will come looking for me,” you explain, mouth forming a small frown as you think about it. he’s confused and concerned as he looks at you, and it feels sort of nice to guess that he’s maybe worried about you.

he seems unsure of what to say, so he just jumps right into it. “i never caught your name. i’m sam winchester, though i’m sure you got that before. can i ask… are you an empath? i did some research since we last met.” he gives you a tense sort of smile, not because he’s nervous, but just because this second meeting feels very awkward.

you nod and give him your name before anything else. “and yes, i am an empath,” you confirm, unsure if you should explain further or not. he seems to understand well enough.

he’s a bit more hesitant the next time he speaks. “and can you explain your… situation? you said you were trapped, and crowley seemed very possessive of you… but i thought i heard you call him uncle? whatever it is, i can help you get away from him, my brother and i have dealt with crowley too many times to count.”

his immediate offer to help and instinct to suggest you just leave crowley are both sort of overwhelming to you, but a part of you likes his words.

“oh. i– well, it’s complicated. crowley, he’s– he’s sort of my only family.” sam’s eyebrows raise a little in questioning. “we’re not actually related, or anything, but he raised me. he’s– well, he’s taught me everything i know and… i can’t– i can’t really leave. besides, he’s really not all that bad,” you try to excuse, suddenly feeling oddly defensive in a way that you can’t really explain. “and i get days to myself like this, i– i have my freedom, i just… before, i didn’t want you to think i was trying to hurt people, or that i like to, but uncl– crowley doesn’t really know… that i don’t like the things that he… that he asks me to do for him.”

suddenly, this wave of sad understanding rolls over you from sam, and you’re not sure why. his face doesn’t change much as he listens, but to you it seems like he thinks you’ve said something so sad.

“but it’s alright,” you quickly try to amend, “he thinks i’m weaker than i really am. that way he doesn’t suspect when most demon deals i’m a part of fail. i have to… i have to get some to work so that he thinks i’m trying, but i promise i try to hurt the least amount of people possible. and.. and he still lets me have my days out when the deals fall through. i botched two yesterday, but i’m still here, aren’t i?” you attempt at sounding lighthearted, but sam’s sadness doesn’t go away much. instead, you just feel compassion blooming from him as well.

“i understand,” he says kindly, “i didn’t think you were trying to hurt people. i believe you.” he’s completely sincere and you realize that that’s not something you’re too used to from almost anybody you talk to.

“thank you,” you sigh in relief, smiling and trying to show him that you’re sincere too. “your brother? dean?” sam nods. “he didn’t believe me,” you state.

sam cringes a little. “he can be like that. he–” he purses his lips, looking for the right words, “he doesn’t trust very easily. he’s very suspicious of people he doesn’t know.”

“i don’t think he really thought i was a person,” you say, starkly honest in a way that surprises sam for a moment. you don’t quite understand what his surprise was for, but he quickly shoves it away before you can ask about it.

“he’s– he’s working on that. i’m sorry he made you feel that way,” sam says, truly feeling apologetic.

“well, i didn’t feel that way. just him. i know that i’m a person,” you smile, trying to reassure him and wishing he didn’t feel sorry.

sam smiles back a little. “right,” he nods, “well, i’m still sorry he thought that way about you. he’ll come around.”

“thank you, sam. but you don’t have to feel sorry, it’s not your fault he felt that way,” you assure, completely sincere and trying to work out why sam would feel sorry about something he didn’t cause, nor that he agrees with. he’s already proved himself to be kind and believing enough.

“sure,” he agrees, trying to figure out the right way to explain what he means as he begins to understand how truly sheltered from normal human interaction you’ve been. “but i know how it feels to have someone doubt how human you are and that it’s not a good feeling. so i’m just sorry and empathetic that you had to experience that.”

you nod in understanding. “ah, well, that’s kind of you… you’re right. it wasn’t the most pleasant thing to feel, but i understand that dean was feeling sort of afraid and definitely mistrustful. you didn’t really find me in the most trustworthy position. but if i meet him again, i hope you’re right that he’ll come around. i really am just a person, but i get that i’m, you know, not one hundred percent normal. really, empathy’s a very human thing, mine’s just… exaggerated, i guess.” you look at him, head cocked to the side in confusion. “but you, sam? why would someone doubt how human you are? you feel things just like a human.”

sam gives you a half smile. there’s a tinge of bitterness when he answers, but the way he talks and feels makes it seem as though time as softened most anger or sadness. yet, it also feels as though he’s never really talked about this much.

“i used to have psychic powers. i’d have visions, these premonitions before people died.” he explains it as something so casual, and he’s trying to feel that way about it, but he really seems to care. “in a way, i was barely different from you. of course, i’m still not. we’re both people.”

“really?” you ask, curious, “i didn’t know other people had that sort of thing. and your powers? they’re gone now?”

“it seems like it. i haven’t had a vision in a long time,” he answers.

“you seem relieved by that,” you note. sam picks up on the tinge of sad disappointment in your voice.

“i am,” he answers honestly, “but not because it’s bad to have those sort of powers. i just didn’t really enjoy getting visions of people dying violently.” he gives you a tight-lipped smile to show you he’s okay being lighthearted about it all.

you relax. “right, of course. that must have been hard,” you give him a small, kind smile, “i can feel that it was hard. i’m glad you don’t have to go through that anymore.” you’re all sincerity, and sam smiles right back.

“can i ask what it’s like for you? to have these powers?” he asks, careful and kind. he wonders if you get headaches or terribly tired of feeling other people’s emotions all the time, but he doesn’t want to make you talk about it if you’d rather not.

you’re slightly taken aback by the question, and not because you don’t want to talk about it. you just never really have at all before. you realize the simultaneous oddness and loveliness of this conversation. not once have you spoken about your powers with another human before, much less one who has some understanding about them.

“well… i guess i’ve never really thought about it much. just because i’ve never known anything else. i honestly don’t remember much from when i was young, but crowley’s been teaching me how to use them for as long as i remember. it’s both better and worse with practice, i guess. and the way i learned was kind of odd.” you pause, unsure if sam wants to really hear about it all. but he gives you an encouraging nod and you feel genuine interest coming from him, so you continue.

“i started learning with demons, but they feel a whole lot less than humans do. and i can’t feel or manipulate their emotions as easily or strongly since my powers are geared towards humans. but since that’s how i learned, it’s decently easy now, though it technically takes more effort than it does for humans. now i’m practicing on people, and it’s sort of too easy. it takes much more control because i’m used to exerting more power on demons. and humans feel things much more strongly, and are much more sensitive to change. i’ve gotten much better, but if i’m distracted or overwhelmed, my control slips. that’s what happened with mrs. hadley.” suddenly, you remember her. “is she okay?” i made things worse for her, didn’t i? you think.

“she’ll be alright,” sam says. “she was shaken up, but she was doing much better when i left. don’t worry too much about her.”

you almost want to ask again, if she’ll really be okay, but it seems that sam will most likely give you the same answer he just did. “okay,” you relent. then you realize you did more explaining about how your powers work than what it’s like for you. “to really answer your question; it’s my norm, and i’m not sure what it would be like without them. but sometimes i think it might be nice if i didn’t have them. i would’t have to help the demons, and it can be… overwhelming. i’m used to the demons; their emotions are easier to tune out. but with people? well, they just feel a lot. of course, i’m used to my own feelings, but to feel that, plus everything else around me, especially when someone could be feeling so much all at once is just… it can be a lot. i’m learning how to tune it out, but honestly, i’m still figuring it all out.”

sam thinks you look a little embarrassed when you finish, and he certainly doesn’t want you to feel that way. “that makes sense,” he reassures, “i barely had any control over my own powers. i can’t imagine how difficult it is to be in control of something so complicated and fickle as emotions. most people can barely deal with their own emotions. being able to feel everyone else’s too can’t be easy at all.

you nod in simple agreement. “it isn’t. but i’m also glad for it. sometimes, unc– crowley has me use it for his, you know, demon things, and i don’t like that. but i think my powers are part of the reason why i’m able to hate it. i’m so connected to humanity, the good and bad in everything that people feel, that no matter how i grew up, i’ll always have empathy in its rawest form. and though i don’t get too many chances, and i mess it up sometimes, i can help others when i’m away from the demons. last week, there was this girl in here,” you smile lightly at the memory as you begin to recount it to sam, “she was smiling and nice to everyone, but i could feel how just sad she was. i paid for her drink and told her she looked pretty, and the way that it made her feel… i didn’t even have to use my powers. she was just so grateful and happy that she teared up. and i barely did anything at all. that’s what keeps me going,” you say, completely honest, “knowing that i can help and that it’s my choice when i do it.” you feel like some huge weight has been lifted from your chest. you’ve never said this all aloud, and certainly not for someone else to hear. but something about sam and his sincerity and goodness makes you feel comfortable enough to say almost anything at all.

sam looks at you with a sort of admiration and total understanding, and that alone is almost enough to overwhelm you. it seems like, in all your experience in feeling, sam is showing you more, all by himself and without even trying. to be understood, so fully in so little time, is not something you’d ever felt for yourself before.

“i know what you mean,” he says, and you absolutely believe him. you want to know him, more than you’ve ever wanted to know anybody. you want to know all about what he feels and why and what he likes and how he knows what you mean without being able to read your feelings like you can his. and you know that he feels just about the same way you do. he wants to know you just as much as you want to know him.

and so you talk and talk and talk until you realize that the sun is dipping low in the sky because you begin telling him how much you love windows. then it’s a sort of frenzy; you’re worried you’ll be caught and try to leave right away, but sam catches your wrist, his calloused hand so gentle on your skin. he asks for your number, but you don’t have a phone, so you tell him to come back at the same time next week if he can. then you rush out and he watches you go.

the next week, sam appears in the cafe doorway at 1:24 pm, and he looks all soft when you smile at him wide. before you have to go again that day, he hands you a cheap phone with both his and dean’s contact already in place. he tells you it’ll make things easier because he might not be able to make it again next week. he doesn’t know when he’ll be on a hunt or not. then he tells you not to call dean unless it's a true emergency; dean still isn’t sure about you.

when you go, you forget to ask him how to use it. so, when he texts you on thursday to tell that he’s on a hunt, and might not make it to your meeting spot on sunday, you’re very unsure what you’re supposed to say. figuring out how to use the phone itself isn’t difficult, but you’re unaware that your simple response of “that’s okay.” is a bit bare-boned and dry in response to his kindly worded message. over time, you get used to how sam talks over text and learn how to emulate it.

and when sam calls you for the first time, you’re completely taken aback. you’d seen people talking over phone calls many times, but you’d never actually done it yourself. you accidentally hang up on him four rings in, but he calls you back a moment later. your surprise is delighted when you hear his voice through the speaker. then you discover it’s just like a demon call without all the blood involved. you also discover that, while you can pick up on emotions from his voice, you can’t really use your powers at all through the phone.

he regretfully interrupts your long spiel about the different pastries you’ve tried from honeybee cafe, telling you he has to go. you ask why, confused that you can’t just keep talking since you’re now able to through the phone. you love talking to him, and you think he enjoys it too. then he tells you that he was just calling to see if you could meet a different day this week, like he asked at the beginning of the call, and that dean expects him to be doing research for a case right now. you ask why he didn’t just text like normal, why he’d call if he didn’t want to keep talking.

“i do want to keep talking,” he reassures, “it’s just that i don’t have the time right now, but i thought calling might be a little easier than texting this time around. but i can call you again later tonight?”

“okay,” you respond, happy enough with that solution. after that, you call him any time you have something to say. he laughs to himself, completely endeared when you call him to tell him that you saw a very cute cat, then hang up seconds later before he can even respond.

eventually, you come to learn that he can’t actually pick up most of the time, but he tries to as much as possible, and that calling is nicer when you both have the time to actually sit down and talk. as you get to know sam, you learn many, many things along with all the questions he answers about himself. 

most amazingly, you learn what it feels like to fall in love with someone fast, and what its like for them to fall right in love with you too. whatever connection that you and sam felt the first few times meeting each other very easily and naturally turns into love. there’s this tug between the two of you, pulling you closer to each other every time you meet. his hand brushes over yours and you smile at him brightly, and you constantly think about each other when you’re apart.

sam tries to take things slow, feeling a little bit like he’s taking advantage of you and your sheltered past. but you know what you want, what you feel, and what he feels too. he wants you just as much as you want him, and you see no reason not to give each other just that.

and it’s so glorious, because you don’t have to read his emotions to know that he loves you back. he makes it so abundantly clear with the way that he acts around you, the way that he looks at you, and the way that he kisses you. you’ve learned that you’d do just about anything for him. you’ve learned how to feel this wild joy that you didn’t know how to feel before.

and it’s true that you’ve learned other, less pleasant things. you hate aiding demon deals even more than you thought. you’ve begun to think that, maybe, almost everything crowley’s raised you to view as the facts of the world, aren’t nearly as true as you thought. you’ve learned that maybe you don’t really owe him so much for raising you or teaching you to use your powers, and you’ve thought the scary thought that he might’ve done it all just to use you. you’ve learned that you should be able to do anything you’d like without having to fear the king of hell’s wrath. that you want to, probably should, get away from crowley, and that feeling like you don’t have a choice isn’t healthy or good for you at all. you’ve learned that you’re still too scared, but you’d rather be with sam, and that every day you spend with him, you become braver.

you’ve also found out that loving in secret can be hard, and that you want to see sam all the time, not just the times when both of you can sneak away. apparently, dean’s still having trouble “coming around” to the idea of you. he doesn’t know that sam’s yours and you’re his. he’s worried that you’re manipulating sam in caring about you, but sam’s reassured you that his love for you is the realest thing that he feels. you couldn’t be more grateful for the fact that he trusts you so much. 

he trusts you so much that every weekend possible, he meets you in the cafe or the nearest motel and you spend hours just talking or laying in comfortable silence together.

he always books the room with the best view from the window and opens the curtains before you get there so that the sunlight bathes the room in warmth and light. today, the late afternoon light is especially pretty, tinted orange and casting a bright hue over yours and sam’s skin as you lounge in the bed together.

his arm is wrapped around your shoulders, both of you propped against the wall with several pillows. you hold his other hand, playing with his fingers and relishing in the feeling of his pretty nose against your cheekbone. because he can’t resist you, he likes to keep his face as close to yours as possible so that it’s very easy to kiss you. his lips will brush against your cheek constantly, and other times he lifts his hand from your upper arm to gently nudge your face closer to his so that he can seal his lips over yours.

you’ve already talked about lots of things today; the best toppings on salad, sam’s most recent case, the symbolism of rhododendron flowers in the book you finished three days ago, and surely more. but the last hour has been quiet, filled with more rustling of blankets, soft sighs, and occasional whispers more than anything else. you’re content, and sam is too, for the most part. often, you try not to be reading sam’s emotions, but spending so much time with him and being so close to him has put you almost irrevocably in tune with his feelings, and you can feel that something’s nagging at him. it’s both good and making him nervous at the same time, but you don’t say a word. you wait for him, until he’s ready to say whatever it is.

it’s when he presses another kiss to your temple that he speaks, voice a more steady volume rather than a whisper this time. “honey?” he says like a question, signaling to you that he’s got something to say, maybe something important that he wants to ask.

“yes, love?” you respond, trying to sound receptive to whatever it is he wants to talk about.

“i, uh, i asked dean if he’d try and meet you, and i managed to convince him. he– he doesn’t know that we’re together, love, but i told him i ran into you again. i think… i think he probably suspects that there’s more to it than that, but he hasn’t said anything about it and i’m taking that as a good sign. would you be okay trying to meet up with him?” he asks, careful and tentative. you can tell that he’s scared to interrupt the balance of things, but that he really wants this. you know how much he hates hiding this all from dean.

“of course,” you assure him quickly. you want the same as him. you don’t want to have to stay furtive and distant from sam so much. but you also have a question. “are we… going to pretend? you know, not to be together?”

sam’s face falls a little at that thought, and at the hint of sadness in your voice when you ask. “i don’t want to,” he starts.

“but you’re nervous,” you gently interrupt.

“a little,” he admits, giving you a small smile, “but i was going to say that it’s up to you. dean could… i don’t know, freak out and i don’t want you to have to worry about that if you don’t want to.” you nod at his words, feeling a bit embarrassed at your interruption. while you try not to let your ability to discern his feelings dictate exactly how you interact with him, you’re still learning that sometimes what someone feels doesn’t always let you predict what they want to say. and of course, he’s sincere about his concern for you, as always.

“well,” you consider his words seriously, “maybe we don’t have to tell him out right, but if he asks? we don’t have to lie?”

“of course, honey,” he nods, “i’d never lie about being with you if he asked directly,” he promises, sealing it with a chaste kiss to your lips. if there’s one thing you know, it’s that sam is proud of loving you, and one of his least favorite things it’s having to hide it. he wants dean to know, he just doesn’t want him to say something scathing to you or try to keep him away from you.

“okay,” you smile. you understand his hatred for hiding it and his nervousness well. you’d be more nervous than he is now about crowley discovering what you’re doing and who you’re meeting with when you’re out on your own. “but you don’t have to worry, sammy. we’ll try to keep him from asking unless he’s reacting well. if he’s still too suspicious, i’ll know and make sure we won’t act in a way that will make him ask. we have time,” you assure.

now sam feels conflicted, because he’s both relieved by your reassurance and sorry you’d have to hide that he’s yours and you’re his. then he’s suddenly hit by this desire to hide anything at all. he doesn’t want to hide from dean or let the way that dean feels get in the way of him seeing and loving you whenever he wants. he wants to show dean just how good you are and how good you are for him.

“thank you,” he says sweetly, “but i don’t want to keep hiding it from him, not for any longer. you’re too important to me for that.”

you want to melt right into him. “you’re important to me too, sam. really, really important. we’ll do this on your time, yeah? whatever you want.”

“yeah,” he smiles, “and we’ll do other things on your time, and others on ours,” he says assuredly. 

you give him a nod as he reminds you that he’s by your side as you build up the courage to get away from crowley. sam has always been cautious about the topic, never saying too much until it was you who brought it up. the first time you told him you’d been thinking about escaping crowley, about realizing you don’t owe him your service or that he doesn’t treat you well, you had felt this surge of pride rush off of sam and onto you. outwardly, he was gentle and quietly encouraging, and he’s been just that since. he reminds you that you should do things at your own pace, but he’s there to do everything he can to help you. the more time you spend with him, the readier you are to stay with him, and just him. unlearning the things that you’ve had beaten into your head for as long as you can remember is nowhere near easy, but it’s undeniably better with sam by your side.

and less than a week later, you’re nervous and wishing for that exact comfort as you wait for him and dean to meet you in the cafe. you sip on your usual order, glad for its familiarity. after ten long minutes, your head shoots up at the sound of the door’s little bell ringing, signaling the arrival of sam and dean. dean walks in first, eyes scanning the small coffee shop until he sees you. you try not to look too nervous as you stand and send him an amicable smile.

you glance at san as he comes up from behind dean, giving you a reassuring smile. the sight of him relaxes you a bit, though you’re so in tune with his emotions by now that his own nervousness immediately washes over you. as dean approaches you try to get a read on his emotions as well. he’s less hostile than you expected, moreso careful, defensive, and begrudging. there’s also a hint of willingness along with it all, and you cling to that. there’s even some trust thrown into the mix, though you assume that it’s reserved only for sam.

“hi,” sam says kindly as he and dean take the seats across from you. you sit along with them.

“hi, sam,” you answer, reciprocating his friendly smile. “hi, dean,” you then say, turning your head to look him in the eye.

“hi,” he echoes, voice gruff. he settles his elbows onto the table top, trying to look casual and at ease, like he’s the one in control of the situation. “let’s, uh, skip the pleasantries. sammy here tells me that we should be protecting you from crowley. i don’t trust you and i’m not convinced you even need protection at all, given that you were helping him with his little demon deals. i’m also not convinced that you’re not using your freaky powers to make him trust you.”

“dean,” sam hisses. you feel a spike of anger from him when dean uses the word ‘freaky.’

“it’s okay,” you say, smiling a little at sam. you honestly appreciate dean’s frankness. “i understand that. i know we didn’t meet in ideal circumstances. i might not trust me either if i were you. and i’m honestly not sure exactly how i can convince you to, but i’d be grateful if you’d let me give it a shot.” dean looks completely skeptical. “without my powers, of course,” you rush to assure him.

“and i’ll know that how? you can literally change the way that i feel. it’s not really a good look for you,” he points out, earning a glare from sam that he completely ignores.

“you’re not entirely wrong,” you acknowledge, “but that’s a lot easier said than done. first of all, the effects of my powers are only temporary. i can only use my powers on you when i’m around you and focused enough. aside from that, you’d most likely be able to tell if i did use them.” dean raises his eyebrows in suspicion, so you go one to explain further. “you’re aware of what i can do, and you’re rightfully wary about it. that means you’ll most likely pick up on even minute changes in your emotions that i make. when you’re aware like that, you can overpower me. my abilities are strong, but frankly, authentic human emotions are stronger. long story short, i can’t do much at all to you. and while sam’s less wary than you to begin with, he’s still aware enough that the same applies to him. either of you would know and be able to overpower my hold on your emotions if i tried anything. the most i can do is get a read on what you’re actually feeling.”

dean still looks skeptical, but you sense a bit of his unease being to slowly slip away. “how do i know you’re telling the truth?” he demands.

without a word, you send just a small wave of trust and comfort through him. for a moment, he relaxes, but just as quickly, his scowl deepens and his own distrust replaces your influence. your affect on his emotions is easily pushed away.

“that’s what it would feel like if i were trying to get you to trust me with my powers. that was about as subtle as i can be with emotional manipulation, and you still noticed. all i can do is tell you that you’re still skeptical, but a little less than when you walked in here. and i can hope that means that you’d be willing to hear me out. i really, honestly could use the help.” you add as much sincerity to your voice as you can, relying on almost all logic to convince him.

dean scowls even more when you mention his feelings and read them accurately, but he does seem to realize that you read a whole lot more than what you actually said aloud. he also can’t say that he thinks you’re lying. it was easy for him to pick up on your influence. almost immediately. “fine,” he grumbles. “no promises, though.”

you nod, relaxing a bit despite his words being less than kind. “that’s fine,” you accept. “thank you.” you glance at sam, suddenly feeling unsure. he gives you a sweet nod and smile and you take a deep breath before forging on. “i don’t know how much sam told you about my… situation. but… for a long time i just didn’t really know i had any other option than to stay with and help crowley. and you don’t have to believe me, but, for the record, i really don’t enjoy helping him. but i think that he’d freak out if i left. and maybe send an army of demons after me, which i do realize would be highly inconvenient for you…,” you trail off, feeling more and more nervous. you take a deep breath to recollect yourself and give your full explanation as to why dean should be compelled to help you. 

“but crowley’s also bound to find out that i’m holding my powers back and purposely sabotaging his demon deals. and let’s just say that nobody wants that. he wants my powers and i don’t know what lengths he’ll go to to get them. so… if you help me, you’ll be keeping my powers out of the hands of the king of hell, which means slowing down his demon deals and making sure i’m not doing whatever evil demon-y things you think that i might.”

you can see dean contemplating, sense his feelings shifting. he intertwines his fingers and looks at sam with a raised eyebrow. sam nods, his expression completely serious. dean turns back to you.

“alright,” he says, “this is nowhere near the worst deal we’ve ever made. we’ll take you with us, keep crowley and his demons at a distance, and you can get out of our hair and onto your own life once things settle down. sound good?” he asks the question like he’s already made the final decision.

“thank you,” you sigh, shoulders sagging in relief. it’s not perfect since he still doesn’t know that you’re totally in love with sam and he’s totally in love with you, but it’s a better start than just about anything else. then it suddenly hits you that you’ll really be walking away from crowley, and that scares you. sam manages to catch your gaze. he looks at you with a hint of concern, but also relief as well. you can see him asking with his eyes, should we tell him? it’s you that gives him an encouraging nod this time. if you want, you’re saying.

he gives you a smile, and you know it means that he’s going to tell dean, right here, right now. you’re about to smile right back, but your gaze catches on movement behind him. your face drops, and you feel the blood drain from it. you don’t catch sam’s worried look that he gives you before he twists in his seat to see what you’re looking at. everyone reacts just a little too late, and crowley slides into the seat beside you.

“well, hello boys! darling,” he looks at you pointedly before turning back to the brothers. “not quite the trio i expected to find today! or ever, considering the fact that i expressly ordered you to stay away from the winchesters, isn’t that right, darling?” he doesn’t even look at you, but you cringe away from him slightly. a wave of protectiveness rolls off of sam as he clenches his jaw, resisting the urge to pull you right away from crowley.

you avoid crowley’s question entirely. “what are you doing here, crowley?”

“crowley? what happened to uncle? you’re breaking my heart, darling,” he drawls, faking a dramatic offense. “just because it’s one of your free days doesn’t mean i can’t visit you, does it? especially not when i get a report that the winchesters are headed inside your favorite cafe. as your caretaker, i was very alarmed. these two are quite dangerous, you should know.”

sam looks at you carefully, wanting to speak up for you, but not wanting to say what’s yours to say or decide what’s yours to decide.

“i’m leaving with them,” you say to crowley, blunt and too scared to force out any words that aren’t simple. “i don’t want to keep helping you collect souls.” pride and relief wash over sam. it feels good to sense.

but crowley’s anger is the opposite. he’s red-hot mad. “after everything i’ve done for you, you’re going to try and leave with the bloody winchesters?”

“i never asked you to do anything for me. it’s not like any of it was ‘for me’ anyway. it was all for your own gain. sam’s done more for me than you ever did.” you let that last sentence slip out without trying, but you find yourself too angry to be in complete control of the things you say. angry, and afraid.

both dean’s and crowley’s eyebrows shoot up. “sounds like you’ve been spending time with dear sam now, have you?”

you swallow, biting the inside of your cheek before speaking. “i– i have. and i’ve learned much more important things from him than i have ever did from you. so you can just give this up and make things easy. i’m not going back with you.”

“i raised you,” crowley growls. “do you know how much i hate children? but i still raised you, taught you to use your powers and made you stronger than you ever would’ve been without me. what the hell could this giant twat have done for you that’s better and more important than that? and don’t dare say something horrible like love. have you never considered the power that you’d have by my side? clearly you learned nothing of loyalty! you’re completely thankless and a complete dimwit if you thought i was going to just let you go. i’m taking you back, whether you like it or not, and you’ll stay in your room until i’m positive you won’t set foot near dearest dean or your stupid, freakishly tall boyfriend. is that understood?”

“no,” you choke out, reaching for sam’s hand across the table. crowley looks like he’s about to explode. dean quickly puts his hand out to interrupt.

“we’re getting stares,” he says, “we can take this outside.”

“no,” sam counters, standing and pulling you up with him, guiding you to stand by his side. “we’re gonna go. and you’re not following, crowley, unless you want my demon blade shoved up your ass.”

“do i look like i care about stares?” crowley seethes, standing and grabbing your other wrist. you yank at his hold to no avail, and sam moves to break his hold as on you he continues to speak. “i will toss both of you winchesters and everyone else in this godforsaken place across the room until you’re all knocked out cold, if that’s what it takes.”

“let me go,” you insist, voice almost a snarl, right as sam tells him to get his hands off of you.

crowley ignores you, even as you struggle against his iron grip. “you first, moose,” he says through gritted teeth.

the second that dean steps closer to the three of you to intervene, crowley flicks his free hand and sends dean crashing into the farthest wall. a few disjointed screams ring through the cafe and spikes of fear wash over you from all the innocent civilians. sam’s anger grows by tenfold and all of it has you squeezing your eyes shut for a moment. you know that crowley wasn’t bluffing when he threatened everyone in the cafe, so you untangle your hand from sam’s and stretch your arm out in front of him before he can lunge at crowley.

“it’s okay, sam,” you say, voice surprisingly calm. you stop struggling and sam looks at you with such desperation and pleading that you almost want to let him fight. but you don’t want him or anyone else hurt. “i’ll be okay. and i’ll be back.”

“no, don’t do this,” sam starts. crowley doesn’t wait for you to answer as he begins dragging you away. you stumble more than once, looking over your shoulder to see sam start after you. “you don’t have to do this.”

“don’t, sam,” you beg. “it’s okay, i promise.” your voice raises to a shout to make sure he can hear you as crowley pulls you through the door and away from sam.

⟢⟢⟢

you know without a doubt that sam’s looking for you. that he’s pouring every minute into finding you, that he’s probably skipping meals and losing sleep because of it. but you also know that you won’t be easy to find. either way, you’re getting out. out of this godforsaken room with no windows and drab walls and out of this life, away from this fear. and you’re going to do it yourself.

it’s not easy, per se, but it’s not difficult either. just tedious and time consuming. it’s fortunate for you that crowley’s narcissism can blind him to certain things, like the fact that you’re much more adept at using your powers than he thinks you are, or that the demon guarding your door, hazel, hates him for giving her such a boring job. he doesn’t even think that you’re capable of manipulating his emotions, given his extra power as king of hell, and that’s exactly why it works when you do.

your escape plan is simple, though not foolproof. but it seems to be working so far. each time that crowley checks on you, you boost all of the hatred and annoyance in both your guard and him. this makes crowley snap at your guard constantly, berating her and blaming her for things she didn’t do. in turn, this makes her hate crowley even more, to the point that her rage no longer needs to be manufactured. hazel hates him more than enough on her own.

even more subtly, you’ve done your best to appeal to her, mostly by complaining about crowley through your shut door and lessening her annoyance as you speak. at first, she’d tell you to shut up, but now, she listens if you don’t talk for too long, sometimes even complaining back. 

but today, when she began complaining about crowley to you, unprompted, you decided you’d throw all of your effort into escaping. she’s particularly spiteful, all on her own, and all day, you boost that feeling, complaining along with her and building up the sense of comradery she’s starting to feel with you.

crowley stops by, and you can feel her anger acutely. you do as you’ve done every day, making him annoyed so he says something scathing. with the strength of her hatred, you’re impressed that she doesn’t say something back, something that would likely get her killed by his hands.

instead, she waits until he’s gone, and begins to mutter to herself how she’d love to cut that haughty smirk from his face. you lean against the door, making noise so she knows you’re there.

after a few moments, you speak. “you could just leave,” you suggest casually. she scoffs, trying to sound annoyed at you. truly, you can tell just how much she’d like to do exactly that.

“and risk getting hunted down by his minions? not a chance,” she growls.

“i hate him just as much as you do,” you remind her strategically. “if he’s not in charge, you wouldn’t have to worry about his minions, right? whether it’s now or later, i’m getting out and i’m making him pay. he doesn’t know that i have the power to turn every single one of  his demons against him. he thinks i’m weak, but i can topple his kingdom, and i will.” you infuse your words with venom and conviction, just how any demon would like. then you fill her with conviction too, making her believe your words easily. “all i need is to get out of this goddamn room.” to you, her silence is loud, but her feelings are louder. hazel grapples with her hatred and her fear and her utter spite. 

“i know you have the key,” you remind her. crowley would never bother to be the one to unlock it each time you need food. “we can both disappear, right now. crowley will get what he has coming for him, i’ll make sure of that.” you send her a wave of boldness and reassurance, confidence that this would be a good decision. it’s easy to feel when you tip her over the edge. a split second later, you hear the door unlock and come face to face with her determined expression.

“this isn’t a favor to you. it’s for me,” she says, voice low and harsh. “i’ll be waiting to see what you do to him.”

easily, you act just how you know she’d want, eyes and voice ruthless like how you learned to be growing up trying to convince crowley you were like him. “trust me. i’ll rip his kingdom apart brick by brick,” you snarl. she nods, and you brush past her, feet light and quiet as you make it out of the building without incident.

once outside, you break into a run, unable to stay calm enough to walk. clutching the small bag of belongings you took, you make for the road. it’s a bit of a ways away, but you reach the highway, panting and desperately looking out for a car that’ll pick you up and take you to the next town over. all you need is to get on the train and head for kansas. you have the way to sam’s bunker memorized.

too afraid not to keep moving, you walk along the side of the road, listening intently for any car or truck. the area is quiet, frustratingly slow, and the few cars that pass you by choose to ignore the thumb that you stick up in the air.

it’s practically torture, walking and walking and waiting. waiting for something to go wrong, for crowley and his demons to find you within mere hours of your escape. your anxiety builds as your hunger and thirst do, and you want to sit down in the grass when you pass an exit sign signaling another five miles to the town with the train station.

but you don’t think you can stop, even with your parched throat, heavy feet, and anxious heart. it’s a strange feeling; elation mixed with nerves so strong you think you could throw up.

you perk up at the sound of a rumbling car engine, but deflate in disappointment before it even comes into sight from around the corner. it’s headed in the wrong direction, straight back towards the place you want to get away from. for a moment, you wonder if you should try and hitch a ride anyway, in case they can drop you off in a different town with a train station. then the car comes into sight, its sleek black body reflecting back the mild sun of the afternoon. you gasp, an impossible hope entering your body.

it had taken you a moment to recognize it; sam’s never driven the impala to see you before, but he’s shown you pictures of his brother’s beloved car. praying it could really be him, you wave your arms in the air, heart beating wildly.

the car slows and breaks a little ways away from you, and before it even comes to a full stop, the passenger side door swings open, and sam comes running out. he looks nowhere but you as he runs across the wide road.

“sam,” you gasp, voice barely loud enough for him to hear. you match his pace, running to meet him. he practically crashes into you, enveloping you in his arms and sighing out your name. you hug him back just as tightly, pressing your face into his neck.

“i’m so sorry,” he breathes out, “crowley was hard to find and–”

“shut up, sam,” you grinned against his skin, the affection clear in your voice. “don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault. it was my choice and i knew i’d be able to find a way out. and i knew even better that you’d look for me.”

he barely parts from you, just so he can gently place his hands on the sides of your face and really look at you. “you’re amazing. i–” he stops himself from saying sorry again. “i know that wasn’t easy for you, none of it. but you did it. you did it, all by yourself. i’m so proud of you.” 

your heart lurches at his words. they feel too good to hear, too sweet, too full of relief. tears spring into your eyes as you really realize just how difficult it all was, as you’re hit with exhaustion from the walk and the fear and the uncertainty of it all.

“thank you, sam,” you whisper. it’s true that you did it all for yourself, but it may never have happened without him. “you helped me. so much, sam. and i missed you a lot, and– and–” you decide that if you keep talking, you’ll cry. so instead of that, instead of trying to come up with something to bring justice to the way that you feel, you kiss him. you remember that sam knows how you feel because that’s how he feels too. and though you can’t quite show him that in the way you experience his own feelings, you can show him by kissing him, and kissing him hard.

he melts into you, his hands impossibly soft, yet steady and so sure on your face. he kisses you back with the same ferver, right there on the side of an empty highway with his brother likely watching. he doesn’t care, not about any of it.

when you finally part, breathless, dean clears his throat loudly, and you grin at sam a little bashfully. he grins back. you peek around his shoulder to see dean leaning against the car’s hood, trying and failing to hide his smile.

“while i hate to break up the lovefest, i’m not sure how long we’ve got until crowley sends that army of demons you mentioned. let’s hit the road, kids,” he calls out to the two of you. 

in the car, it seems clear that dean’s attitude towards you has improved significantly since your last meeting. maybe it was seeing the way crowley treated you, watching you give yourself up in defense of sam and the others in the cafe, or seeing sam this past week and a half and coming to understand how much he really cares about you. whatever it is, you completely welcome the hesitant sort of affection that begins to permeate dean’s wariness of you.

then, there’s sam, sitting all content in the passenger's side and unable to stay still. he keeps turning to look at you, as if he has to be sure that you’re really there, sitting pretty in the backseat of the impala like he’s imagined a million times before. the only thing keeping him from sitting next to you is the fact that he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands and lips off of you, and that would be a bit too much with dean in the car. so instead, he smiles at you all soft and listens intently when you explain how you got out. he tries not to talk too much to avoid bothering dean, but you can tell that dean doesn’t mind one bit hearing the happy tone in sam’s voice as he talks to you.

and for you, to be flying down the highway and looking at your sam, your revelry, your wild joy, you finally understand what freedom really feels like. what it feels like when it’s yours.

[tacticalprincess]

cw: angst, emotional manipulation, dry humping until completion

being the poor little hostage könig is in charge of looking after… he feels annoyed and helpless, listening to you sob for hours. he’s sympathetic; he can see how cohabitating with someone of his caliber might be distressing after what you’ve gone through. even after years of experience he still isn’t quite sure how to deal with this part of his job— the emotion and human interaction part. he avoids making direct eye contact with you and speaks to you as little as possible, figuring you just need space to process. little does he know that everything he does, down to the way his eyes shift uncomfortably in his hood, makes you feel even worse, self conscious and isolated, just like you’d felt when you were kidnapped. you longed to be close to the man that saved you from the situation you thought you wouldn’t make it out alive from, and the rejection you felt from him was only making the crave worse. you’d do anything to get his attention…

he returns back to your guys’ temporary hideaway to find you in the same spot he left you, curled up in the corner of the bed. his heart hurts at the image you make. he stands awkwardly in the middle of the room holding a paper bag. "i brought food and… more tissues."

you break down at the sound of his voice, the first voice that hasn’t evoked a deep sense of dread and fear into you in weeks. you can’t see through the fog of tears in your eyes, but you hear the sound of heavy footsteps inching toward you, the crinkling of the bag being set on the creaky wooden table. a large, tentative hand is placed on your shoulder, and you can’t help but lean into the touch you’ve been craving.

“don’t… don’t leave again.” you plead brokenly.

“okay…” könig sounds startled. “what do i…?”

“can you just sit with me? hold me?”

he hasn’t held anyone the way he holds you since before he can remember. it’s hesitant and stiff at first, you leaning up against his broad chest, his strong arms wrapped gingerly around you. he softens up the longer you sit there, your face buried in his neck as your crying turns into sniffling, and eventually his warm embrace feels indistinguishable from that of someone you’ve known forever— a lover, even. he just makes you feel so safe and protected. it’s not your fault that your confused, touch-starved brain reads the situation as something that it’s not.

könig’s supposed to be the clear headed one. he should stop you when you start crawling further on top of him, he shouldn’t let you sit yourself in his lap. it’s inappropriate and he knows it, only a sick man would take advantage of a young girl in such a vulnerable state. but it’s not like he isn’t also in dire need of physical affection. if he just sits back and lets you take what you need from him to be comfortable, he isn’t doing anything wrong. right?

“i’ve been so scared, so lonely.” you reason with him as your hands feel around his broad biceps through his tactical gear. the more you discover about him, the more your admiration for him grows. your breathing has turned heavy, the warmth of könig’s body paired with the feeling of having a man so close to you for reasons that aren’t to hurt you, has your cunt aching between your thighs. you’re so screwed up. “i never thanked you for saving me.”

“it’s my job.” you can hear that he’s effected too, his accent thick and deep and strained underneath his mask. you bite your lip at the sound, your little hips growing a mind of their own as they start to rut against his crotch. the sensation of your sweet heat rubbing snugly against his is enough to lower any inhibitions könig has left. fuck, he hasn’t felt anything like it in so long. “we shouldn’t–”

“it’s your job to take care of me.” hot tears start to well up in your eyes at the mere thought of stopping. you lock your arms together behind könig’s head, clamping your thighs tighter around him so he has no choice but to let you continue. “please, i need this, sir. i know you want it too.”

he could easily fight you back if he wanted to. he’s much bigger, much stronger… but he doesn’t. his hands find your hips, and you make eye contact for the first time since he rescued you, only now his eyelids are heavy with desire. he’s just as desperate as you. you got what you wanted, his full attention on you. he uses his strength to guide your movements until what youre doing can’t be described as anything else but riding his clothed erection, the friction against your sensitive clit all too much for you too quickly.

you grind against him to the point of overstimulation, too fucked-out to decide wether you want to pull him closer or push him away. he ends up deciding for you, though, hugging you until you’re pressed chest to chest, succumbing to desire. you can feel the way his bigger body dwarfs yours as you use each other to get off. tears stain your soft, flushed cheeks as you cum, pushed over the edge by the sounds of his low pants and grunts, his pulsing cock underneath you. warm with the knowledge that you made him feel as good as you. you thanked him properly.

“i’m here, engelchen. ride it out.”

the feeling of you convulsing on his dick is enough to milk könig’s orgasm out of him soon after, dirtying his pants with hot, thick cum. he strokes your head and whispers soothing words in your ear, and it’s not until you’re fast asleep on his lap that the gravity of what he’d done settles in, shame washing over him in waves…