#Nothing more than a creature who can’t control himself

[animanytotsllyinsany]

The second you demonize the character, the second you remove the nuance that it needs to be handled with. The second you say the character is a monster, the second you remove the accountability that the subtext held, you destroy the point of the character. No one is 100% good, or 100% evil. Terrible people have done good things. Good people have done something bad in their past. If you say that the character is 100% evil, then you remove the plot point of human nature. Humans cannot be 100% good or evil. Humans change, adapt, they’re irrational. Removing a characters humanity removes their accountability. It removes their ability to show something real. Their ability to spread a message.

[hyunsvngs]

𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 - vampire!changbin x human!reader

wc: 3.2k

cw: vampire!changbin, human!reader, they r in love ur honour, 18+ smut MINORS DNI!!

synopsis: changbin may be a vampire with supernatural strength, but there's nothing he loves more than to let you take control.

a/n: based off of this post and this ask :3 ENJOY.... please heed the smut warnings tho!!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: blowjobs, blood kink, petnames, mommy kink, dom!reader, sub!bin, maybe slight strength kink?, MUZZLE KINK!, dirty talk, riding, unprotected sex, creampie

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

you can’t believe you’ve got a man this delicious. a man so pliant and malleable too despite his otherworldly, supernatural status. changbin would never use his vampiric strength on you, no - he’d much rather lay down on the bed and let you do what you want to him. 

you’d begged him to turn you when you fell in love. to be able to use your strength on him, you said, trying to convince him. he’d only retorted with a quick “i let you do what you want anyway, sugar?” and well… he wasn’t wrong.

he invited you into his home quicker than any man ever had. he sweetened you up, took you on traditional dates where he turned up at your door with a bouquet of blood red roses, and even sweet talked your mother enough that she approved of him and let you stay at his house. she didn’t know he was over a hundred years old with two pointed teeth, obviously, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

the seo estate is magnificent. the gardens are surrounded by an impenetrable stone wall, looking to be as fresh as the day it was built, and changbin has multiple bedrooms to himself. you’d gotten a bit upset - “binnie, doesn’t it get lonely here?” you said, bottom lip quivering, but he’d only slung one muscled arm around you. “i have you now, gorgeous.”

that was another thing about your man - he’s reassuring, and you always feel safe around him. you know that if you prodded at him a little more and begged him hard enough that he would truly change you and turn you into one of his own, if not purely because he cannot see spending his life with anyone else. 

he lays beneath you now, and you’re lost in your own thought with how much love you can have for someone who would be known as a creature of the night. his tummy quivers with an exhale, and you realise your fingernails have been digging into his pecs through the black silk shirt he’s wearing. he shifts beneath you, slacks tight with his erection, and you grin at his reaction.

“you like the pain, binnie?” you muse, digging your fingernails in just a bit harder. changbin whimpers, eyes fluttering shut, and you see his fangs poke out and dig into his plush doll-like bottom lip. not hard enough to draw blood, no, but just enough to the point you know he’s enjoying it. you grind your hips down and his hands fist in the black sheets on his bed. 

the candlelight flickers around you as you adjust yourself, your nightgown spilling off one shoulder and exposing your shoulder to him. when you grind down again, his eyes flutter open, pupils dilated. “i want you to tell me what you want, changbin.”

his eyes flicker to your shoulder, and you giggle when they slowly crawl up to your neck. changbin hums, fingers twitching as if they want to grab you, but he won’t. he’s a good boy. 

“i want-“ he huffs, one of his shorter, human teeth biting at his lip. “i want you. i want to- i want you to ride me, sugar, and will you let me- will you let me drink from you again? god, your blood is the sweetest thing i’ve ever had.”

“mm, maybe,” you respond, but you know you’ll let him. you just need him to beg a little bit more, sweeten you up a bit. “i’ll ride you, binnie. will you let me have your cock in my mouth first?”

“god, really?” changbin groans, eyes flickering in excitement, and you nod. your hand runs down his tummy, past the shirt and to the zipper of his slacks. it bulges out with how hard he is, and you use your fingernail to push it down, the slow noises of the unzipping filling the room.

you’re sure changbin’s going to scream if you don’t hurry up, so you’re quick to lift your hips up and pull his trousers and boxers down muscled thighs together. his cock is hard, unbearably so, slapping against his stomach and leaking against the fabric of his expensive shirt. the head leaks beneath his foreskin steadily. you want it in your mouth, but you have to make him work for it first - you wrap your hand around the base, lifting his cock off of his tummy, and then you’re stripping his cock at a rapid pace. 

“oh! oh, ah- ah,” he’s wincing, and you know it’s dry, but you can’t help but hurt your boy sometimes. tears bloom in his eyes and you can see that it truly must take his superhuman strength to stop his hips from fucking up into your fist, his hands almost tearing his sheets clean off of the bed. “gorgeous, sugar, your mouth- your mouth, please! please, fuck, i-“

changbin cuts himself off with a sharp keen when you flick your fingernail over his nipple, through his shirt. “what do you call me, binnie?”

he must be stupid with it already because he blinks at you, a tear falling down one soft cheek. he stammers a few noises out, your hand still ravaging his cock, and then it hits him. “mommy! ah, mama, mama! mommy, please, please, give binnie your mouth.”

“there you go, good boy,” you coo, hand moving from his chest to his hair. you pet just above his ear, and he leans into your touch, humming happily. you don’t comment when he turns his mouth to your palm, nipping just slightly with his teeth, but you do reward him with a soft smack to his face. “stay still. no biting, bunny.”

he whimpers when you finally begin your descent down his body. you kiss him through his shirt, and then you finally push the material up to his waist to see him in his entirety. you’ve still got a tight grip on him, and he stands prominent in your fist, his leaky tip just barely peeking out. your tongue darts to dip into his piss slit, and he really does rip the sheets a little this time, along with a strangled noise coming from his lungs.

it’s easy to deepthroat changbin’s cock. his girth is so delicious that it stretches your jaw a little, but you’re able to get his length to your throat with no issues whatsoever. you do so, engulfing his cock into your mouth, and when you start bobbing your head he’s done for. he wails with it, little murmurs of your name falling from his lips, and when you let your eyes flicker up to him he’s really crying.

“mama! oh, oh, my- binnie’s cock feels so good, mama, it’s- hnnng, oh!” he’s babbling as if he can’t believe it, as if you haven’t done this a million times, and you move your hand to his sac. his balls are heavy, full and swollen with his pending release, and you massage them with your thumb until he positively can’t control the bucking of his hips. you let him fuck your throat once, twice, and then you slap his balls hard. “sorry! sorry, mommy, binnie’s sorry.”

you let his cock slide out of your mouth, and it lands with a wet slap against the thatch of curly, pitch black hair at his base. “i said to stay still, bunny,” and your voice is hoarse, but he nods, chin quivering.

“‘m sorry,” he mumbles, and you can see how his cock jumps with his nervousness. “will you- will you still let binnie drink? and ride me, and-?”

“and what, baby? cum inside me?” you tilt your head to the side in question, and you swear you see changbin blush. he nods, bottom lip jutting out, and you can’t help your laugh. “we’ll see. be a good boy for me, okay?”

he wasn’t expecting you to move up his body again, but he’s pleasantly surprised when you pull your nightgown up. the white satin remains on your body, just barely held up by the curve of your hips, and you hold his cock upright. you’re soaking wet between your legs, and changbin moans out when you run his length through the folds of your pussy, just barely catching on the swollen bud of your clit.

“binnie,” you say, breathless. “binnie, tell me how much you want it.”

he’s instant with his response. “so bad! so bad, sugar, feel how hard i am? binnie’s that hard just for you, will you let me have it?”

“just for me, mm?” you ask, and he nods. you lift up just a tad, holding the hem of your nightgown up, and then you’re sinking down onto his cock in one go. his girth stretches your hole beyond belief, even with the added thickness. when he bottoms out, your toes curl, his cockhead resting in that one gummy place inside you that he’s taught you to love. “ah, there we go. that’s good, yeah?”

“s-so good, mama,” his voice is choked, and he lets his eyes flutter shut again. “so good. tight pussy, ‘s so good.”

“it’s all yours, baby,” you moan, and he nods frantically. you’re quick to start moving your hips, too horny to keep the facade going, and changbin’s hands move to grab the pillow either side of his head. your ass slaps against the tops of his thighs, wet noises ringing throughout the entirety of the stone-built room - and probably further out in the estate, but you can’t fathom the concept of changbin’s groundskeepers hearing anything. at a particularly well-angled bounce of your hips, his cockhead rams deliciously into your g-spot, and you know you’ve cracked it, continuing your grinds in that exact position. 

“is it good?” changbin asks, breathless, and he finally opens his eyes. his eyes land on your tits, bouncing in your nightgown, and he shuts them again as if he’s been branded with a silver cross. “sugar. i can’t even look at you, i’ll bust.”

you giggle, leaning forward to grip onto him for purchase. your hands land on his pecs again and you whine when your clit grinds against his pubic bone, fast and feverish, and you don’t reprimand him when his hands finally move down to your ass. he’s held back for so long, and you both know that it’s only so long that he can take not being able to touch you.

“ah, that’s so- fuck, binnie,” you moan, teeth digging into your bottom lip. you’re reminded of your previous plans when his fingernails scratch at your ass, his back arched like a cat. “mm, binnie? y’wanna taste mommy?”

in any other situation with any other man that would have completely different connotations, but changbin knows what it means. he shoots up into a seated position, eyes half lidded, and his head darts to the juncture between your neck and your shoulder.

“c-can i, mommy?” he questions, moaning when your hips grind down on him harder. “can i, please?”

“more, binnie,” you respond, and he knows what you mean. his tongue laves over your neck, and then he places a wet, open-mouthed kiss over the column of your throat. that’s where he’s going to bite you, and he’s tenderizing you like something he’s going to eat. you suppose you are.

“mama,” he whines, long and drawn out. “let me taste you. please, god, i’m thirsty, mama. let me, please?”

you sigh with your pleasure, and you finally halt your hips, stopping the boy underneath you from being jostled too much. his hands knead at your asscheeks while you pretend to deliberate.

“alright, honey,” you coo, voice soft. “you can bite.”

changbin’s fangs protrude from his mouth, and then he’s biting you. it’s slow, the way his teeth begin to bury themselves into your skin, and the moan he lets out is high pitched. changbin’s always messy when you let him do this, and despite the fact he starts to drink your blood instantly upon it hitting his tastebuds, it’s already started to drip down your shoulder. 

you pick the right time to start moving your hips again. he’s sighing and moaning as he drinks, and you begin a slow grind on top of him. changbin’s cock positively throbs inside of you, and you clench down approvingly, making him grip you just a bit tighter. 

he drinks and drinks until you’re lightheaded with it. when he pulls away, you’re a little dizzy, but not enough so that you can’t take in the sight of him. his chin and lips are covered in bright red blood, and it’s dripped down to your white nightgown and stained the fabric a dangerous colour. changbin moans in approval when he sees it, and his mouth goes to your nightgown to try and lick the excess up messily. fortunately for you, he licks over the pebbled peak of your nipple, and he’s fixated on it as soon as he catches it. 

the nightgown becomes drenched with not only your blood, but his spit too. he doesn’t let up, swirling his tongue around your nipple through the fabric, and you’re left to run your fingernails through his hair teasingly. he whines against you when you pull his hair back to your neck, before he’s quiet, lapping at the two pin prick holes in your skin soothingly. something about his venom over the wounds feels euphoric, and you can’t help yourself when you push him back down onto his back to ride him hard.

he looks debauched. his eyes blaze a crimson shade with his feed, and your blood is smeared all over the bottom of his face - streaks adorn his sharp chin and his fangs look like they’ve been dipped in it. he licks over his upper lip with a grin, and you can’t help but to smile back before you’re bouncing.

“fuck yeah! yeah, mama, yeah, ride me,” he murmurs, eyes flickering over your body like he can’t believe you exist. you can’t believe he exists, but you know you must look the picture of his wet dreams in your nightgown. the fabric over your breast is so drenched it’s see through, and your blood still drips a little bit from your neck. in the middle of grinding on his chubby cock, you let your thumb collect some of the red liquid on your thumb, and you press it into his mouth.

changbin whines. his hands move to your waist and he sucks your thumb like he would your strap, moaning around it like it’s the best thing he’s ever had past his plushy lips. you fuck the digit in and out in rhythm with your pace on top of him, and his cock leaks inside you so warm you feel it, flooding your gummy walls and leaving you breathless. 

with a strong grind on his cock, changbin’s fangs nip at your thumb, and you have to pull your thumb away for another little love tap on his cheek. his eyes roll back into his head, and you giggle. an idea hits you, and you know you just have to do it.

your hips halt, and you grab changbin’s curls tight, pulling his head back. “i think we better get your muzzle, bunny.”

“no! no, you let me drink, what- why?! why, why?” he wails, but you know he enjoys it. he just likes kicking up a little fuss when you get mean like this, and you ignore him to reach into the bedside table to grab the offending item. it’s only small, covering the bottom half of his face with black leather and miniature metal bars over his mouth, but changbin cums his fucking brains out every time you equip it over his gorgeous face. he’s still babbling when you loop it over his curls, pulling the strap tight and letting your pussy clench down at the sight of him so submissive, so pliant. 

“mm, that’s it. stay there like that, that’s it,” and you lean back, hands gripping his thighs. you’re feeling a little lenient, so you let changbin push your nightgown up with calloused palms and watch the space where his cock enters you over and over. he’s going to cum soon, you realise, and you’re going to have to make the most of the time you have right now. changbin snaps his fangs at you as if he’s a puppy about to bite, and you clench down on him with a sharp keen, pussy gushing down to his pubic hair. 

you reach around yourself with one hand, fingers rubbing messily over your clit, and it makes your pussy tingle deliciously. changbin’s still making strangled noises, legs thrashing behind you, and you can hear him mumbling quietly.

“please, please… let me drink again, sugar? mommy. mama, please, please-”

his hips cant upwards and you jolt. your pin prick wounds on your neck are healed from the after effects of changbin’s vampire venom, but you flick your fingernail over it, causing the wound to start oozing crimson essence again. changbin’s nose scrunches up beneath the muzzle as he inhales, and you wipe your hand over your bloody skin before you’re just barely letting your fingertips slide through the metal bars on his restraints.

“s-smell it, changbinnie,” you coo, chest heaving with a flush as you get closer to your orgasm. your hand speeds up on your clit when he nips softly at your fingers, and when he cants his hips up again he’s flooding you with hot cum. his own chest heaves as he cums, cock throbbing inside of you, and you whine. 

“fuck. fuck, sorry-”

“stay fucking still, bunny,” you groan. “you better not go soft on me. make mama cum, c’mon.”

and he does. he wraps his muscled arms around you, the material of his shirt scratching against your nightgown, and then he’s thrusting into you. it’s awkward, and he’s only half hard, but the show of strength is the only thing you need to push you over the edge. you shake and gush through your orgasm, arms moving to wrap around changbin’s neck, and you feel his chest rumble with a groan as he feels you throb around him. 

when you flop off of him, pussy messy and swollen with your sex, he stretches with a loud groan. you huff in response, and he sniffs. the unspoken communication makes him let out that loud, affectionate laugh that you love.

changbin’s out of breath next to you, limbs akimbo, and you giggle at his soft cock resting against his pubic bone. you pull the straps of his muzzle loose and let it drop onto the pillow, and changbin grins at you.

“the muzzle was such a good idea,” he says, elated, and you let him push himself into your space and lay his head on your chest. your nightgown is still covered in blood and his spit, but he doesn’t care, making little happy noises against you. “i love you, yeobo.”

you can’t help but smile, sated. “i love you too, changbinnie.”

[apocalypse-shuffle]

CREATURE COMMANDOS (DCU - animated)

—

“A Call To Motion” or Going to Carnival w/ The Creatures Commandos (Creature Commandos x Fem!Reader)

| Headcanons

| CHARACTERS: FLAG, BRIDE, PHOSPHOROUS, NINA, G.I. (platonic), WEASEL (platonic).

| SFW, 18+, minors dni, mission, team dynamics, fluff, caribbean setting, dancing, referenced sex (TW: stalking, murder, animal death) - monster!reader & caribbean!reader

| 6k+ words (some of which is a 900+ word mini fic w/ Phosphorus)

RICHARD “RICK” FLAG SR.

Rick should absolutely not be allowing you to do this, but he can’t take his eyes off you anyway.

There’s something mesmerizing about how you move to the music around you, the island’s atmosphere seeming to have rejuvenated you significantly. It’s like you were made of the sun, it seeps into the pretty brown of your skin like a homecoming and the way you bask in its warmth and smile takes his breath away.

Flag is old and more than a little jaded, taking his breath away — let alone getting him to start waxing fucking poetic — wasn’t easy. Why, then, you’re able to do it without so much as trying is something he can’t mentally grasp.

He can’t be too mad when you’re still clearly doing your job, though. Even with you singing loudly to every single song. Flag doesn’t even want to know how you know the newer tracks at all, let alone well enough to not be missing any words and wining your waist in time enough to be hitting every single beat.

And he is watching close enough to tell. He tells himself it’s because you’re too much of a wildcard this mission — on this island — but he’s hardly convincing himself. Feigning ignorance is his best bet anyway, even if he is kind of worried about whether he’ll have to bury your headless body in an unmarked grave because you slipped away using familiar pathways you grew up trekking he had no chance of knowing.

Regardless, even with you being covered enough to hide the monstrous parts of your appearance, very little about the way you’re dancing leaves much for his imagination to do. The way your ass pops, the freedom in your movements, the surety in your performance, it’s all like catnip to him.

Even in tactical gear you’re still working him up. Even though you were one of his goddam charges and he was too old to be acting like his love struck son did with that June Moon chick, too old to be falling for a woman who gave him nothing but shit consistently and who’d tried to claw him to death on their first mission the first time you and him fought together.

You were a lot of other things too, however: the first one to save him from an explosion, the first to earnestly ask for his help despite how begrudging you’d obviously been, someone who let him rant about shit without telling the others, who lit up so fantastically at certain things it made him feel a little lighter himself, the woman outcasted from your place of birth that talked him into (ie: verbally tore him apart) finally going to visit Rick’s grave at his, and you’re accent was like fucking silk. So really, who could blame him if he was falling a little in love?

A lot of people, but he’s choosing to ignore that.

Really, there’s better things he could be watching so closely. G.I. was one, he was always one, and Eric was unpredictable and volatile enough Flag was convinced he needed to be watched even closer than Weasel. Or maybe he could even be paying more attention to the literal mission they were on, but still it was you who’d captured his attention the most.

After he catches himself and realizes he’s been ogling you silently for the better part of five minutes he doesn’t watch you as closely as he genuinely wants to. You’re both not dancing for him and are supposed to be working, he needs to get himself under control.

Rick wants to keep his eyes on you, though, and has definitely been letting himself get dragged along in this game of push and pull that you're playing with him.

Jesus fucking Christ if Waller could see him now…

Because of you making a point to stare him down, raise a brow, and then step into the collective mass of dancing bodies to wukup and jam and sing in a shadowy part of the area — getting even closer to where their primary target was throwing back shots surrounded by a wall of women, and basically daring Rick to stop you if he thought he was big and bad enough — Rick ends up taking his frustration out on everyone else on the team.

You’re taking risks, but he can’t deny that even in between your singing the intel you're giving him is good. Plus, you didn’t want anything major going down in your home island any more than Rick did; more so than he did, even. So all he can do is redirect his frustration at you not following his instruction and potentially putting yourself in danger.

Rick wishes he could feel half of what you’re feeling. That he could enjoy the music shaking his teeth and feel the freedom you clearly do in your movements and in being surrounded, however briefly, by your people even ostracized as you now were as a “creature”.

Instead of that he’s been tasked to lead. He might not have you back under control yet — he’ll get to wrangling you back into working if you don’t do so yourself, but he wants you to enjoy the reprieve for now — but he can nitpick the hell out of everyone’s positions until he’s got a cacophony of people bitching and groaning in his ears and his lips are twitching up into less of a frown as he keeps half an eye on you.

Though nothing gets him as close to smiling as when you finally deem yourself satisfied (or as satisfied as you’re ever going to get as a imprisoned woman who’ll never be able to go anywhere uncovered lest she incite a mob) and slide up to him. You don’t do anything so transparent as laugh or cheer, but you do grin at him — your pretty brown eyes nice and wild — and for a second Rick feels himself grinning back.

THE BRIDE

The Bride is the main recipient of your uncharacteristically excited rambling (or uncharacteristically happy grumbling, depending on your personality), but that soft spot she has for you keeps her drawn in to listening to you talk yourself breathless instead of doing her usual and sleeping through the flight to Waller’s next suicide mission.

After you land and the two of you have been left more or less alone while the others stick closer to and/or bother Flag, you tell her all about your plans to slack off a little this go around. How you’re going to milk as much fun out of the Carnival experience as you can before you’re forced to wheel yourself back in.

When you ask that Bride please just let you have a little fun and not tattle, she scoffs. For one, she’s not a fucking child, she doesn’t tattle. For two, she wasn’t your keeper, so long as you kept out of trouble and didn’t get in her way she didn’t care what you got up to.

Except she’d really really hate to see you popped, actually.

The Bride is a bit flattered that you taught to consider her in your plans and that you wanted to ask her permission. She still thinks you're an absolute fucking idiot to risk yourself over something so small, though, don’t get her wrong. Even if she’s got little to stand on with her judgement there.

As far as you’re concerned there was little point in taking these missions if you weren’t going to maximize your “freedom” from Blackgate while it lasted.

Honestly it had been just your luck that this week’s mission from Waller had sent you to this part of the Caribbean during Carnival at all. Even if it wasn’t where you were from, the island and her festivities would surely be enjoyable regardless.

That your main goal for the majority of the first and second nights was recon and observation was an even better plus. Now you didn’t even need to sneak off.

It doesn’t take long for The Bride to be reminded of why she’s kept away from sandy areas in the last several decades. Sand was a bitch to get out of her stitches.

While you’re doing recon Bride just disinterestedly watches you dance around her and drinks from the almost comically small glass of spiked slushie in her hand, little green paper umbrella and all. She has like seven of these and isn't even near tipsy, and for someone who is trying to get drunk that tendency of her metabolism is really getting irritating.

The fact she lets you near her at all isn’t permission in and of itself to stay by her while you act a fool. Bride tolerates your presence just fine on a regular basis, but that was it. When she sees you vibrating where you stand, softly singing along to familiar songs you haven’t heard in years while bouncing in place to the beat, and then gestures halfheartedly in front of her where people are jamming all while raising a brow at you, though, that’s permission. Hell, it’s practically an invitation.

One that you take her up on very vigorously at that. Nina might be shaking head at the two of you, but you can see her hiding a little giggle when you start playing around while you dance regardless. And if it gets a little scoff out of Bride then that’s just a happy bonus.

You’re not going to act like coming down here to have fun wasn't your main goal. The second you’re out of Flag’s sight you start blowing the mission off. Of course you keep a passing track of your targets, but with the mission only being about observing the assholes you think it’s only fair you get to do something entertaining enough that you don’t die of boredom.

You wukup not because you have to, but because you want to. And you do it near where Bride’s leant against the counter of a pop-up bar because you want to too; want her to notice you, maybe make a move.

After all you guys were in lock up, not a nunnery.

You pull out every trick in the book that still flatters your inhuman body, letting the soca beats flow through you like a woman starved all the while, and if it weren’t for Bride’s occasional grunts in reaction to something you’ve done you’d think it wasn’t having any effect at all.

Internally Bride is a lot more invested in what you're doing than even you can tell, and definitely more than the bloody mission you're on. She just makes a good show of seeming like she isn’t.

The only bearable thing about the heat that saw Bride ditching her jacket in the vehicle Flag drove them in was the salt twinged breeze blowing through the short buildings with their colorfully tiled roofs. The fact that you were showing as much skin as you could get away with due to the heat wasn’t lost on her either.

Bride finds a beauty in you she hasn’t seen in anyone since Victor. A beauty that’s brought back to life some of the bits of her that died with her creator, and brings technicolor back to the bits of her that turned dull and grey as Eric continued his relentless pursuit of her.

She couldn’t deny you your whims or resist your draw if she wanted to.

The way her heart speeds up when you crack a joke about a song’s lyrics or a singer's entrance, and how she has to bite her tongue so she doesn’t laugh too obviously. The full on blush she sports when you start dancing with some drunk man in a way he clearly likes but only look her way as you work your waist in his hold, and how she wants to snap all of his fingers and wrench his hands off of you. All of that lets Bride know she’s in trouble and you’re liable to be caught in a crossfire that's been brewing for over a century.

She’s going to have to push you away soon, but ‘soon’ didn’t have to be tonight.

It’s one of the world’s most dangerous games of chicken, working around Eric Frankenstein’s unwanted possessiveness of The Bride. You’re fully aware he’s watching you and Bride too, you just don’t give a shit. Voyeuristic jackass.

Part of you likes antagonizing him.

Revels in the fact that he can’t kill you as easily as he’d like and the fact that you and the man both know it. That you were barely asking for Bride’s attention and she was willingly offering it when years worth of groveling for her attention yielded nothing for him but a fist to the face.

Every time Victor Frankenstein’s Monster comes into view and Bride clocks him lurking (and trying to set you in particular on fire with his gaze) she scoffs and makes a point of putting her back to him and moving you in the process.

It probably makes Eric blue vex every single time The Bride touches you just enough to nudge you from his view.

Bride is more gentle than she needs to be when she steps in closer to you and uses her knee to nudge you in the hip — she does it so softly, in fact, that you don’t fully comprehend her urging you to the side, it’s so out of character with what you’re used to from her, and just move.

Bride is quite fond of how easily you move at her prompting, reluctant as she is to admit it. Still, after she gets you to move, she backs back up to give you space again.

You mourn the way she towers over you in those scant few seconds. Like how harmless it makes you feel, how wholly encompassed by her presence you are, how much of her undivided attention is on you.

Despite everything Bride likes to watch, and it’s clear you're putting on a show for her even though she can’t indulge either of your desires.

You are most definitely not as on high alert as you should be as you’re jamming and singing along to the live band them, but with Bride specifically at your back you couldn’t find it in you to feel unprotected. Bride was quick on the response, and there’d never been a time when you two were working together that she’d been laid out by a hit for long (especially if there wasn’t magic involved).

Bride notices how forlornly you stare at the women still in their colorful Carnival gear from the earlier parades and snags you a feather that matches the only accent color on your mostly all black uniform.

When you preen at her she grumbles to herself, brushing your thanks off, but you hardly let that stop you and start talking away about the importance of the feathers as you finally slip from the crowd to get back to work. And Bride let’s you.

You might want to fuck around with Eric’s self control, but The Bride knows what will happen and that’s a lot of the reason why she won’t show any obvious interest in you. Quite frankly it’s mostly the fact that you’re a woman that’s letting her have as much contact with you (and Nina) as she has because he hasn’t figured out that was an option Bride would go for, and she’d like to keep it that way.

In the end you all survive. Although, she has picked up a few more worries, most pressing being that you seem to enjoy egging Eric on and that she thinks smug looks quite sexy on you.

Once you’re all back in your cell block and she starts complaining about there still being sand in between her damned stitches she can’t help but grow a bit more smitten with you when you pull her grumpy ass to a bench and get to meticulously ridding her of any remaining granules.

‘Soon’ would have to wait another day more to come.

DR PHOSPHORUS | ALEXANDER SARTORIUS

Phosphorus wants to touch you so badly. He’s not blind, he can see all the ways everyone else is dancing together and he wants to get up underneath you like that, to feel your hips against his; for a second, honestly, he does consider it but he already knows what will happen so he doesn’t give in to the urge.

He’s not in any particular rush to get the shit knocked out of him today, or to honestly fight you.

It’s still decidedly entertaining to think about what he’d be doing if he could touch you though, if he could plant his hands on your hips without your flesh boiling beneath his touch cause he’s too excited to temper himself— and a little entertaining to think about what would happen if he touches you in reality, but really he can’t be blamed for mere curiosity. It couldn’t be helped.

Phosphorus likes you too much to actually want to hurt you anyway, just obviously not enough to stay away from you or stop managing to share close quarters with you (yes, even when you’re asleep).

He used to be far more considerate about things like that, he knows. Everything is just too distorted now, the man he was too purposefully forgotten to drag back up.

If he can’t touch you (even when his temperature control is stable) he figures he should at least be able to watch you as much as possible. The good thing about not having visible eyes, too, was that he could keep his gaze on you all the time and no one could call him out on it.

Phosphorus loves whenever you feel his gaze on you and turn your pretty head to glance around. Loves the little twitch of unease you give when you can’t quite figure out that he’s watching you out of the corner of his eyes, and just generally being able to catalog all your reactions and micro expressions to what’s going on around you guys without you noticing.

So you can imagine how much Phosphorus takes in his visual fill when you start bouncing in place while you guys are on lookout together; keeping the perimeter secure around your group of targets, making sure no one was unaccounted for, and the like.

You always operate particularly gingerly around him (so long as the mutation that made you into a monster didn’t make you impervious to long exposure to radiation) — an effect on you Phosphorous doesn’t fail to revel in; it makes him smile a lot when you tense around him, though you obviously can’t tell — and so he completely forgets about bothering to pretend he cares about the mission you’re on when you start tapping your finger on the handle of your weapon or tapping your hand on the side of your thigh.

If the tapping took him by surprise, then the way you start bouncing on the balls of your feet in time with the beat pounding around you makes him choke on nothing. You notice, and boy does he like the way it makes you startle, but the great thing about getting turned into the absolute freak of nature that he is now is that not having expressions for people to read makes them more likely to dismiss what his opinions on little things like being caught doing something mildly embarrassing might be.

You go back to ignoring him easier than most would assume and get lost back in your head when a song you clearly recognize starts playing and you start singing along. Automatically Phosphorus pays more attention to the punchy beats and slick lyrics, but it’s not his kind of music and there’s too much about the dialect he doesn’t understand so he dismisses it quickly as a ‘you thing’ and just raises his brow, smirking as he listens to you.

Even strapped securely in gear and covered in fur or scales or whatever your body’s still killer and a sight to behold when you finally start to move your hips. And when your ass starts to circle he isn’t ashamed to say he doesn’t look away.

Although your movements are subtle he’s enraptured anyway.

Everything about the way you’ve acted since you got to the Caribbean has been telling and after such a show Phosphorus kind of wants to know more. If only because it’s you and because he is bored.

It’s…rare for him to find himself legitimately interested in anybody anymore. Let alone the way he desires you, the way he wants to keep you. A lot of him doesn’t really want to succumb to that seeming howling need — the need to find connection in you, to touch, to possess. The parts of him he’d thought completely eradicated after his “incident” weren’t giving him much of a choice in the matter, though.

—

When he leans back into the wall behind him and its peeling colorful paint, he crosses his arms, gives up any pretense of caring about his mission parameters, and stares at your ass.

Wining your waist. That’s what you're doing if the punchy instructions to the song currently blasting through the night air are to be believed, and he likes it.

Phosphorus starts bouncing one of his legs some with the beat, too. In tandem with your sway and bounce.

He clears his throat.

“So, what’s all this for anyway?”

“…what…?”

At first when you turn to him it’s rather absent, you’re still noticeably trying to keep an ear out for the live bands and bask in the lively chatter surrounding you both from below. Once you clock his leant position and the angle of his head your mood shifts entirely, however.

You stand up taller, glaring, and Phosphorus shivers at all that undivided attention of yours trying to pin him in place.

It wouldn’t work. Far more intimidating people have tried to ‘put him in his place’ or have attempted even dumber shit like trying to ‘appeal to his humanity or humility’ before and it’s yet to work out for any of them.

Wouldn’t work with you either, didn’t matter how much he couldn’t get enough of those dark eyes staring directly at him. Part of him wants to pluck those pretty brown cognacs out to wear around a chain. He won’t, but your eyes were their own type of diamonds he desperately wanted to preserve in a collection.

“…Were you just staring at my ass?”

Phosphorus gasps, jerks himself upright.

He makes a show of acting like he’s about to refute you, like he could never. Like, he’s about to go ‘that’s presumptive’ and give you shit about not considering the fact that he’s visually a glow in the dark skeleton. Walking, talking, and killing, sure, but still with no discernible features.

He puts his hand over his heart for a second and everything.

Really, though, he’s just giving you a performance so you keep glaring at him.

“Spit it out already,” you snap.

The walking radiation bomb laughs. He does wave his act off still, leaning forward just to watch you jerk away in response to heat he’s only mostly keeping at bay— you could technically touch him right now if you wanted, but Phosphorus isn’t holding his breath.

“Alright alright,” he says, laughing lowly to himself as he stuffs his hands in his pockets so he can shrug. “I was totally watching, you have a nice ass. I’ll stop if you want me to, though.”

There’s a herculean effort that goes into you not knocking him down two stories, he can see it in your body language.

“You’re stopping,” you demand.

He shrugs, “Fair enough.”

Phosphorus would absolutely be in mourning over it though.

When you close in on him, Phosphorus lets his back flatten against the wall where he wouldn’t in any other situation. He wants to see what you’ll do. To know how far he can push you.

He smiles. You clearly don’t notice. He doesn’t mind.

You bare your teeth— they’re sharp and he suddenly wants to feel them breaking his irradiated skin, “What do you want, Doctor?”

Doctor. Jesus Christ, he’d moan if he didn’t know that’d really make you throw him off the roof.

Phosphorus didn’t have much of an attachment to his old professional standing, and for good fucking reason, but something about how your voice wraps around such a respectful moniker in reference to him always makes him a little lightheaded.

Head tilting, he holds a finger up to point back to the expanse of writhing bodies beyond the roof.

“Well I did ask earlier.”

The fact that you don’t buss him upside the head is more a testament to your own patience — and no doubt your ability to bid your time — and less so Phos’s powers, especially since he’s not even using them.

You do spend the rest of the time explaining Carnival to him, but he’s not really listening. Not to your words.

He gets the vibe that you’re aware of his actual disinterest for your answers considering your monotone delivery. The whole time it’s like you’re being forced to give a middle school presentation with a gun to your head and Phosphorus doesn’t even mind because what he’s focused on is the tones of your voice, the restless shift of your body when a song comes on you’d clearly like to be paying more attention to, how you force him pettily to focus on the actual content of your words as you explain emancipation and why everything is so goddamned brightly colored.

The fact that he’s stealing your attention makes him deliciously frustrated. Phosphorus stands there for most of the night and learns more than he cares to while basically preening under your gaze the entire time. Hell, he nearly melts into a puddle when his eyes wander (his head tilting in response) to one of your targets leaving the perimeter and you grasp him by the jaw tight enough to ache. Forcing his attention back your way like you need his eyes on you just as badly as he does yours.

He wants to touch you. Wants to massage the plush of your ass, and rub you to completion until he gets tears to spring in your eyes and he aches for more. Wishes for certain nerves back for the first time in forever just so he can shove himself down your throat and come undone without burning his way through.

Subsequently, however, he’ll have to settle for your passive aggressive lecturing and relishing in the blood splatter from the way you pop the head of you two’s wayward target.

He kind of loves it.

Pain at picking back up that emotion relative to someone else again be damned.

NINA MAZURSKY | MERMAID

Even despite the fact that you’re still working, Nina keeps feeling the need to remind you to stay on task or else you could meet your impending doom from the bomb implanted in your neck.

It’s a real bummer, you tell her to live a little.

Despite her words, though, Nina both loves the more water based mission and loves listening to you talk about the place you grew up in. She hangs onto your every word and every anecdote you make about how free everything felt back when you were home and about how much you miss the smell of the sea. Nina gets missing the water, it might not be life and death for you but she still understands being homesick (and the bone deep longing for certain environments).

If there’s anyone on the team you’re roping into dancing with you, it’s Nina. She definitely expresses her concern about disappearing from the outskirts of the crowd where Flag can’t see you and into an alleyway of sorts, but you suck your teeth and toss out that there’s trackers literally implanted in your bodies as you drag her away.

She bitches the whole time but never once resists your lax hold or walks back to her post once you let her hand go.

The sea creature only occasionally bumps into anyone or is bumped into herself, and apologizes excessively all while looking at you bouncing effortlessly between people and turning back to smile at her every once in a while.

The two of you get stares, there’s no avoiding it when you resemble creatures out of a horror novel, but most everyone is far too intoxicated to dwindle on your appearances as you find someplace less crowded and with a bit more privacy.

When you finally convince Nina to dance with you — after urging her to relax with soft looks as you project your voice over the music to talk her through it and hold out your hands for her to grab — she starts off slowly, cringing at herself as she tries to find the rhythm.

It’s hard when she’s watching your hips to do it, trying to copy how you move your waist without being reduced to a stammering mess. She gulps and blushes through it, her steps stuttering as she slowly catches on to your movements and starts engaging her waist in a circular motion to wine, her eyes wide.

It’s a thing of beauty watching Nina let herself go loose. It takes what feels like forever, but once she starts shyly copying your movements — less a wine, more a sway of her hips side to side — Nina glances up to you with a wide smile, lashes fluttering as she looks for your approval, and for a moment you feel faint.

The both of you have a great time, though. Giggling and dancing and playing around over the sounds of music and people. And with Bride keeping a lookout for you, you don’t have to worry about people stumbling on your or Flag cutting your two person party short.

Only one person causes any actual problem for you both that night, actually. The culprit: some woman who thought you were eyeing her dude as they were walking past you and Nina, too drunk to realize that your tree wasn’t one she wanted to bark up.

When she turns to call you out, yelps as her eyes widen in fear and then snaps out a startled call of “freak” you’re already rolling your eyes. Once her man starts trying to start some shit too, puffing up his chest and staring at you and Nina like you’re evil you figure you’re going to end the night pissed off too. It’s not you who shuts them down, though; no, it’s Nina who tentatively pulls you behind her and then starts clumsily chewing the couple out for being stupid presumptive assholes.

Eventually you end up having to knock them out, Nina letting out a squeak of surprise as they both crash to the ground. While Nina angry is really doing it for you and you’re flattered that she’s come to your defense, if they got any louder you’d get people’s attention and that was the last thing either of you needed.

Nina’s gloved fists are balled tightly once the couple is no longer an issue and you run your hands over them until she relaxes. She apologizes profusely, flushing, but you wave her off and make her flush worse when you compliment her on her mean streak.

After having watched Nina promptly pepper they raas you’d swear your pupils had turned into hearts if you didn’t know any better. It’s like Bride can see them anyway when she snorts and rolls her eyes at you two when ayo finally emerge from the alley to get back to work.

By the end of the mission Nina’s relaxed again, has acquired plenty of beaded necklaces that she’s bunched along her arms and desperately wants to try conch after watching it be prepared for fritters through a food truck's back window. The fried food itself wasn’t necessarily what she was interested in, though you did seem to enjoy the basket you snatched. Nina more so wants to get in the sea to taste them more sashimi style (but without the rice).

Nina also has to admit that she absolutely loves the availability of sea water right off of the house that was rented for the team to recuperate in.

When you sneak out to the beach just beyond your home base you’re in a bathing suit that makes Nina stutter and fully prepared to relax in the sand with a towel until the sun comes up.

Still, you relegate an hour or so to getting into the water with Nina. Marveling some at just how sure and competent she was in the ocean.

In the cover of night you guys can just exist without having to worry about people getting in your way. Can just freely be the ‘monstrous’ creatures you now are for this short amount of time.

Eventually everyone else trickles out of the house with similar ideas of enjoying the beach, even Flag, but Nina doesn’t mind. She just stays lurking in the water, her gums itching for blood in a way she can actually satisfy for once.

There’s no judgement in your eyes when she attacks a fish, your eyes just glitter and you move easily to share some sugar apple you plucked from a tree on your way back to base with her, wiping off the trail of blood coming from her mouth.

She lets you feed her the sweet creamy fruit, looking you in the eyes without the bowl as a barrier for once as her heart pounds a mile a minute in her chest. This is one of the better days of her life, and she tells you as much.

When you smile at her you're more captivating than the stars. When you tell her you're glad and that you agree, especially because she’s here with you, while running the pad of your finger over one of the fins atop her head she shivers and aches for a press of your lips to hers that’s way softer than a bite.

G.I. ROBOT

“Friend Y/n, is visibly excited; is it because there are a lot of Nazis where we’re going?” “—No! No, definitely not. There’s no Nazis there, G.”

Or, at least, not any you knew of (anything was possible and people came from everywhere). Certainly not enough people that were gonna be in the J’ouvert and Carnival crowds to justify letting G.I. get too excited about it.

G.I. doesn’t understand your excitement but he’s not going to begrudge you it or anything either.

In fact, I think G.I. would ask you questions about everything (so long as he saw you as a friend and not just as a handler of some sort).

You’re eager to answer him, eyes bright while you talk as you look him in the face. When he scans you and all signs point to you being happy G.I. feels a small sense of satisfaction at having helped.

When a group of people shove past you to get to the nighttime Carnival activities, you grunt as you’re checked and have to bite back the urge to yell at them and draw attention to G.I. and you. Instead you settle for glaring at them and cussing them out stink under your breath. Your irritation obviously doesn’t go unnoticed by G.I. — even if he wasn’t personally bothered by the shoves — and he offers to get rid of them for you if it will make you feel better. He shifts his hand into his usual embedded gun and all.

It’s such an insane thing to offer, but so true to the robot, that you snort and are knocked out of your angry ranting entirely. You redirect him after that, reaching up to fix the hood of his hoodie where it was pushed back and concealing his head back in its shadows.

G.I.’s eyes still glow red in the shroud of darkness and you tell him it looks sick as fuck before ayo go back to monitoring the parimeter as the rest of the team calls out updates about where the targets are.

After that you start back up telling him about the islands. You miss being home, miss the food, miss feeling the wind blow through your tight curls and dressing up in your feathers and jewels to ramp up and down while wukkin’ up your waist with no abandon. Hell, even now you can’t participate in Carnival and you fucking hate that.

G.I. doesn’t like how upset you are even if he can’t quite articulate how to help. Eventually he settles on asking why you can’t just dance while you’re with him since the music is loud enough to hear from your positions.

Reluctantly, you agree. Once you start dancing as you walk with him you’re far less grumpy though, laughing to yourself as you explain your moves to him while he silently studies you.

When you take one of his hands in yours while you’re patrolling in order to bounce his hand off your own to the beat, he only stares at you. He doesn’t object though and takes to inquiring about some of the more confusing (to him) lyrics in the songs and even starts humming along to the music with you as you dance around him.

He’s got the spirit.

You guys are dragged away before you can sneak off to the food trucks and food stands by the time the first leg of the team’s recon wraps up. To your utter mortification you can feel your lip quiver in your disappointment and keep to yourself more than usual the entire way back to home base, G.I. sitting beside you in the van.

It isn’t until you guys are parked outside the house you’re renting and you two are left in the van last that G.I. shifts and holds his hand out. In it sits a little cup of pastry and jammed fruit. And, yeah, the tart he’d snatched for you just came from his hand but you giggle and eat it anyway, moving to hug him from the side before you do.

G.I. can’t smile, but he does actively lean into your embrace and you take that as expression enough.

WEASEL

Because of the flight risk you present since the Commandos’ next mission is on the island you were born on during one of the busiest tourist days of the year, you’re stuck on Weasel Duty.

Even relegated to the van with him as you are, you’re still close enough (the target was using all the cuhruckle of Carnival as cover) to the festivities that you can hear the music clearly.

Weasel is fairly pleasant company all things considered, but you still throw a fit about being left with him and toss little glares at him every time a group of excited people pass close to the vehicle you're holed up in. It feels like salt being rubbed into a wound.

You want to kill something. Preferably Flag. Then you’d go for Waller.

All that frustration eventually coalesces into the burn of unshed tears in your eyes as you plop down on the floor with gritted teeth and push the heels of your palms into your eyes.

You were not going to cry right now. What the fuck?

Weasel rouses from where he’s squeezed himself into the corner furthest from you, making a small inquiring noise that you ignore.

He whines over your sniffling though, and shuffles over to you with his body still low to the floor while you’re too busy trying to beat your emotions back to notice.

He pokes at your hand with a clawed finger and you startle so badly you knock the back of your head into the metal wall.

Instead of running away his head tilts and his eyes squint in what you interpret as (possibly) sympathy.

Weasel sniffs. You sneer at him. He’s not scared enough to back off and only chitters in response.

It’s…weird. Weasel doesn’t smell or anything, but he is still effectively a naked human man covered in fur and you can’t stop yourself from squinting wet eyes at him as he lowers himself and curls up next to your leg on the van floor.

Weasel’s claws stay retracted the entire time despite your dubious looks. He just looks up at you with those ridiculously large eyes, his tongue lolled out of his mouth as he pants due to the heat.

There were laws against leaving dogs in hot cars, weren’t there?

All it takes is him nudging you with his nose and making another little noise to have you reaching down to scratch over his head. It makes his leg twitch like a dogs and it’s as endearing as it is fucked up.

It’s calming though and the soft content sounds he makes are nice. Allows you to be able to enjoy what little of your home you can bask in right then, the music mingling with the natural ambiance around you.

You definitely crack the windows though, it was too hot for that fuck.

In thanks (after everyone’s finished for the night) you sneak out with him to feed him goat. Live goat, obviously. Though you leave it at just the one for the stable owner’s sake.

The crack of bones and squelch of blood is tolerable mostly because you snapped the animal's neck before tossing it to him (otherwise the bleats would’ve given you away). The way Weasel peeks up at you from over the dead body, lower half of his face covered in blood, is even kind of cute. You’ll admit it, he wasn’t too bad.

Weasel does try offering you some meat off the things’ carcass but, face screwed up, you decline his offer with a short laugh.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!! I want to write more stuff with The Bride, she’s so cool and there’s so many interesting character beats to delve into with her. I knew I’d love her.

I cannot fucking stand Frank Grillo, but Flag’s characterization is pretty fun to work with. I think Flag might just stay dead too, because in the comics “Frankenstein” (ie: Eric) is the leader of the team at times, but idk because we know Flag Sr. is supposed to appear in other shows and movies.

Also, listen, I don’t even like Dr. Phosphorus like that but playing around with his personality like this got away from me and I just started writing. Phos’s personality is taken from the episodes that have since come out, but with the last two episodes not out yet I am inferring certain aspects of his personality with only the scarce information from the 1x06 promo. Like, I think I wrote myself into liking him because then I was retroactively forced to reconsider him more closely and actually pay attention to his character.

The title of this is from the song “Movement” by Hozier; a decision I made after writing this and noticing how well the song fit, which is why this isn’t a lyric prompt type thing.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

[websterss]

TRUST ME (1) — COLE WALTER

SUMMARY: All he wanted to do was help you overcome your fear of riding a horse by yourself, he would have never gone through with it, if he knew the outcome.

WARNING(S): some fluff, pure angst

WORD COUNT: 4,138

PAIRING: Cole Walter x fem!Reader

A/N: I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed!

MASTERLIST

A strange tension lingered between you and Cole after you moved in a few months ago. You had gotten along with the other boys and Parker just fine, but as soon as you came along, it was as though Cole wanted nothing to do with you, or perhaps didn’t know what to do with you around, You had no clue what this tension was based off on, but it had made every encounter awkward. It didn’t help he was always trying to be a flirt too.

Standing near the entrance of the horse stables inside the barn, you watched as Cole fed and took general care of Custard. 

"You wanna ride?" Cole then asked in a nonchalant tone, gaze flickering over to you with a light smirk before turning back to the horse.

“Me? Oh uh…no. Not by myself. I’ve only ridden on the back with someone back home. But I’m too scared to take the reins. Plus I think that horses are the only animals that don’t like me very much.”

Cole laughed at the notion of horses not liking you. He merely hummed in response, stroking Custard once more while he seemed eager to be fed. 

This was the first time you hadn’t felt the awkwardness fill a space with Cole and you couldn't quite explain why it felt comfortable. 

He then turned his gaze to you for a moment, before speaking up once more. “Who’ve you ridden with before?”

“My cousins from my mom's side of the family. They have their ranches so I’ve been lucky enough to say that I’ve been on a horse. Though I can’t say the same about being in full control of one.”

"Wanna try?" He asked gesturing to the horse. The edge to the question sounded a bit teasing.

“Oh no, I couldn’t!” You laugh putting your hands out. “I more than likely will fall off out of pure panic.”

"Afraid he'll buck?" He said, the edge in his tone playful again. "It's not too hard– I promise." He then turned to you, with a slight smirk on his face. "Hope it’s not me that you're not scared of, are you?" He asked.

“You? No…Custard, maybe.” You glance up at the beautiful creature

"He's one of our nice horses. Never nipped at a person in his whole life. Can't say he’s never not bucked off anyone but…You'll be fine." He said with a smirk. "That…and aside from a couple of scratches from his hooves when you try to get on, but trust me you'll be 100% fine. How about it? Come on- I dare you."

“Dare me. How comforting.” You wince as you try to take his reins but he moves causing you to back up. 

“Woah!” Cole says. “Seems like Custard here got agitated by your approach.” Cole himself took a step back with a slight grimace in your direction. “Looks like he really doesn't like you." He breathed out a laugh, turning his back towards you once more. At the same time, you couldn't help but see a tinge of disappointment in his eyes upon failing to coax you to try mounting the horse.

“It’s fine Cole. We can do this some other time, yeah? It’s getting late anyway. Besides, Custard doesn’t seem to enjoy being in my presence so much right now.” You gave a slight grimace.

Cole took a breath in and out but didn’t turn to face you, instead took to stroking Custard before sighing quietly. "We'll see about that," He said with faint certainty as he took ahold of the reins in one hand. "You stay right there." He then turned to Custard, who seemed to calm down a little bit as Cole moved beside him, stroking his mane.

“What are you doing?”

"Getting him more used to you." He said with confidence, moving around the horse with a soft hand. "Don’t worry, he’ll forget you even reached for his reins while scared in the next couple of minutes– he'll start loving you. I promise." He then turned back to you with another teasing smirk.

“I don’t know about that...” You chuckled nervously as he walked him over to where you stood. You made a noise as Custard was only an arm's length away.

"Trust me." He said confidently as he held the reins tight. With your reluctance though, Custard only became more agitated with each step he took closer towards you. He whinnied slightly and stomped his hoof. Cole still had his eyes on you, however– seeing your nervous expression.

“Cole I’m only making things worse-“ You shook your head as Custard stomped his hoof again.

"Trust me..." He repeated as he continued to walk up Custard towards you whilst remaining cautious in his movements.

By this point, Custard's ears were pinned backward, and was quite vocal in his disliking of you  All of a sudden, the horse turned to face you as his nostrils flared. Your heart sank as he started thrashing his head wildly. 

“Cole…” You held your hands out in front of you. Your eyes widened as he dragged his hoof like he was getting reading to charge at you.

Cole's eyebrows furrowed as he gripped the reins tighter, staring at you as Custard tried to take a step forward– almost charging at you.

"Quit backing up. That is the worst thing you can do right now–” He said, his tone stern. 

Custard then proceeded to take another step forward, but this time Cole was ready as he blocked the horse's legs– keeping him in place.

“Don’t move, just stay calm.” You froze like a statue, waiting on Cole for his word. 

He then let out a breath of relief as Custard stopped huffing towards you. He stared at you for a moment. “You okay over there?" He asked, looking at you with genuine concern now. Custard on the other hand seemed to be calming down by the minute, turning to face Cole as he continued to pet him.

“Okay? Yeah, I’m great…other than the fact your horse just tried to charge me!”

Cole's gaze became a bit sharp at the sarcasm. He rolled his eyes. "He didn't– He didn’t charge at you. I’d never let that happen. Now, if you can stop being all sarcastic– that would be great." He said in a rather blunt manner, as he then moved to face you. At this point, Custard had calmed down and was just watching you with curious eyes.

You looked down at your shoes. Feeling stupid for being scared. Maybe you read the creature's body language wrong, then again how would you know? You knew nothing about them. You hadn’t meant to make Custard agitated.

"Look at him..." He said firmly, as Custard seemed to be waiting for you to just give him a chance. "See? He’s doing nothing wrong. He just got scared by your approach, that's all." He then sighed heavily in your direction. "You wanna know how I got him to love me?” 

You shifted your gaze onto him. “H-How?” 

“By giving him the time of day."

“Really?” You eased up.

"Yes really. I was like you. I was scared of him in the beginning. Now he’s my favorite one out of all our horses."

He moved towards you with Custard, reaching out for your hand to bring you closer to the horse. Custard immediately got a little more agitated as he stared at you.

"Look– He won't bite. I promise. He's just scared, like you. Just stroke his mane for a bit." He said, his voice firm and reassuring. Custard continued watching you suspiciously.

“Okay.” You nodded.

He then let your hand go and stood to the side to observe you and Custard. You hadn’t even realized he walked away leaving you two alone. Custard was still looking at you with a curious stare, though that all seemed to melt away upon you finally stroking his mane. The horse then seemed to relax and started lowering his head, seeming almost grateful for the pets.

You breathe out a laugh. Then turn around to look at Cole finding him standing at a further distance from you two. He watched your eyes grow slightly. Shaking his head. “You’re okay! You’re doing good, just breathe.”

You continued to slowly stroke Custard's mane, as he seemed more comfortable with you now.

Slowly, he started to take a few steps in your direction, as you were finally able to reach out and stroke his side. He even seemed to enjoy it. As you moved closer, you could see that Custard was quite a fluffy friendly creature. 

Cole continued to stand to the side, slightly amused by your initial fear as Custard continued to relax under your touch. He found himself not being able to avoid smiling but didn't want to distract you from this moment.

Custard continued to enjoy the attention with his large brown eyes locked onto you, as he lowered his head further.

Cole stared at you in mild amazement. He did not expect you to get this far with Custard considering his attempts to get you to mount the horse. Though it was pretty obvious he was impressed. After a couple of more strokes, Custard let out a happy whinny. He kept staring at you once you stopped, almost as if waiting for you to continue.

"I told you…He's quite nice once you give him a chance." Cole said, stepping closer with a slight smirk.

“You’re not so bad after all…” You muttered softly to the horse. You stroked his hair. A smile adorning your lips. 

The horse now started shifting his head, as he leaned into your hand– wanting more. Cole had walked up to you by now, giving Custard a quick stroke as he happily let out a whinny.

"There. See?" He asked, seemingly pleased with this development.

“Yeah, yeah.” You rolled your eyes playfully.

He let out a low hum and leaned back, watching Custard for a second before staring at you again.

"Want to try riding him now?" He smirked.

“Oh um…” You look back to the horse. Then back to Cole. “You know what…yeah, I would actually.” You offer a small smile.

He nodded and walked towards Custard- holding the reigns of the horse once more.

"Just stay there. I'll get him ready." He moved Custard beside you and started fiddling with the saddle and whatnot. Custard kept watching you with curious eyes and then turned to Cole when he called his name.

You nodded back with a smile. Watching as he moved around the stables with ease.

After a few minutes, Cole had finished setting up the saddle. He then turned to you as Custard looked at you once more.

"You ready?" He asked and you would have noticed that the smirk finally left him as he took off his hat and handed it to you. He wanted to make sure you'd be comfortable riding the horse.

Custard still kept staring at you, though his eyes were no longer suspicious— and seemed happy to see Cole's attention now turned to help you get on him.

“Yeah…” You nodded. “So do I just hold onto here?” You pointed to a spot on the saddle. He nodded and came closer to you.

"Just hold this handle here, and put one foot inside this stirrup. I'll do the rest." He said as he came right up to you and helped you up on Custard, pushing against your bottom to lift you up. He pulled on the saddle straps, and stirrups, making sure you were comfortable and safe. Once you got comfortable, he stepped back and smiled at you again.

"You ready now?" He asked again, though his voice was no longer teasing. It was reassuring.

“Yeah.” He then grabbed the reins and led Custard out the barn doors and toward the training area as he watched you out of the side of his eyes. Custard, of course, seemed quite happy to have you on his back as you went out.

By now, you felt much more comfortable on Custard's back as you held his reins tightly in your hands. He continued to walk around freely, watching Cole every so often.

"You ready to speed up? Or should we take it slow?" He asked you, his eyes still locked onto you as you rode along the fence.

“Speed up?” Your eyes widened. “We just started Cole.” He hummed thoughtfully, as Custard seemed to be getting a little bored from walking at a pace so slow.

"We can take it faster than this for sure. I'll be beside you– nothing will happen." He then looked at you with a reassuring expression and gave Custard a bit of a nudge. "Just take it easy with the reins, alright? All you have to do is hold them tight."

“Okay…okay. I can do this.”

"That's the spirit, you got this!" The horse then trotted forward a little bit faster now, as Cole watched you.

Custard breathed out, as if sighing and testing and judging your experience as a rider, digging his hoofs into the dirt, as though he was trying to indulge how you would react to him now picking up the pace.

“Cole. He’s going faster!” You exclaim. 

He looked at you with an amused expression as Custard started trotting faster and faster. "Just hold on to the reins! It's fine." He said, his voice now being firm and certain.

Custard then suddenly picked up even more pace, going much faster as if challenging you to keep up and take control. You held tight to the reins but in the blink of a second. Panic flooded your mind.

You looked back in Cole's direction, who was still following you with a calm expression before he suddenly spoke up again- trying to guide you towards keeping up with Custard.

"Slow his pace. Just grip the reins tightly and look straightforward. Then, pull the reins back in your direction to make him slow down." He explained as Custard was going even faster.

It was too much to comprehend. Everything was happening so fast that you ended up pulling at his reins instead of gripping them.

Custard seemed to get agitated by this, almost like he could sense your fear. The horse's hooves seemed to be tapping against the ground quicker and quicker now as if you were not quite fast enough to control him. You could do nothing but hold on for dear life as Custard tried to go against the pull of his reins as fast as he could.

“What are you guys doing out this late?” You both turned towards the new voice that started approaching from the house. It had been Alex. Upon the distraction, your grip had loosened on the reins and Custard took this as his chance to throw you off him. You gasped as you fell backwards, your heart sank. Then nothing. Your head colliding with the ground hard first, your shoulder, then your body colliding down next, rendering you unconscious.

“Cole!” Alex yelled running towards you. Having seen you get thrown off. 

Cole was instantly startled by this whole scenario, feeling a sudden panic as he whipped his head around to the thump his ears caught. He looked to Custard who was whinnying away, dread hitting him not seeing you on his back, his face falling as soon as he saw your body on the ground. He held his breath. 

“Y-Y/n.” He called out. Upon realizing you were unresponsive his panic seemed to melt into worry and terror. He was at your side in the blink of an eye, running and falling on his knees hard against the dirt. He knelt pressing his ear against your nose, you were still breathing. 

"A-Alex go get Mom and Dad!" Cole yelled immediately, as he tried to shake you awake, patting against your face to try and get a response from you. When he cradled your head, dread hit him when he pulled his hand away, drops of red staining his fingertips. His breathing hitched. Alex stared wide-eyed, trying to gather his head at the scene before him. When he made no move to go, Cole yelled again, his voice cracking. “Alex! G-Go get Mom and Dad! Go get Mom and Dad now! Go—” He didn't seem to hear a thing as he shook you frantically to try and wake you up. “Y/n– I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please, oh god please!” He pleaded, his vision getting blurry from the tears. 

“H-Holy shit!” Alex tripped over his feet as he turned back around and ran for the house. Yell as loud as he could to alert his family. “Mom! Dad! Dad!” Cole heard Alex hear in the distance. 

You remained unconscious as Cole patted against your cheek. His dad and mom ran over after having been awoken by hearing their son scream bloody murder. He watched as Cole tugged you into his arms rocking you back and forth. They had only ever seen him in such a state after his football career was over.

His dad, upon approaching, looked at Cole in complete and utter horror as they both looked at your unconscious body and the horse now trotting next to you both. “She won’t wake up. S-She won’t wake up!” Cole shook his head. 

"What the hell happened?" George asked, looking from Cole to the horse and back to you once more. Cole started to talk, but he still seemed much more focused on you than he was talking to his dad.

"Custard threw her off, Dad. It was bad. She hit head first." Alex hurt in. 

“Oh my god!” Katherine knelt before Cole. Squeezing his shoulder as she took note of the red on his hands. 

“What have I told you boys about riding at night? The horses are supposed to be in their stalls. No riding after dark, that’s our rules, Cole you know this– You two were supposed to be sleeping!” His dad sighed running a hand down his face. “Okay, we gotta go. Alex, go get my keys now.” 

“I know. I know Dad– She just wanted to ride him okay? Who was I to say no to her?” He laughed but it hadn’t reached his eyes. “I thought I could get her used to Custard…” He looked down at you in his arms. Gently caressing your cheek with the back of his hands. “This is all my fault…”

“Let’s worry about whose fault it was after we get her to the hospital, sound good? Can you pick her up?” Cole nodded in response, looking up at his dad with a solemn gaze, before looking back down at you.

Custard was being stopped by Alex, taking hold of his reins. Looking between his parents and you in Cole’s arms. Cole kept stroking your cheek, begging whoever would hear his silent plea to be able to see your eyes again.

"It was supposed to be harmless and simple..." He said quietly. "Not sure what went wrong...I don't think I've ever seen Custard do that before..."

“Sweetie…” Cole looked up at his mom. “We gotta move quick with this okay, before any more serious issues come up. Let’s go get her help.” Cole held a slight frown as he agreed, he inhaled deeply before sliding his arms underneath your back and legs. With a grunt, he slowly stood up. His mom placed your dangling arm against your chest, brushing back hairs that swept your face. 

He looked down at you thinking how you looked so peaceful as you were unconscious. Yet, something told him that you were probably having quite the nightmare right about now. He felt bad that his attempt at trying to help you overcome your horse-riding phobia had ended up like this. Though, to be honest, he hated the way it ended up like this. You weren’t supposed to get hurt. 

Cole looked up at his mother, before looking at you with what seemed to be a guilty look. 

“Come on Cole.” She ushered him forward towards the truck his dad drove up to the front of the house. She turned towards the rest of the party now all waiting at the steps of the porch. She opened up the back door for Cole to let you two in. Danny mostly. “You’re in charge until we get back. Make sure Alex puts Custard away alright.” He nodded, not arguing. 

“Is she gonna die?” Lee asked. Solemn written all over his face. 

“Let’s not think like that right now okay? I’ll call when we have more information.” Katherine sighed and shut the door behind Cole where he sat in the back with you. 

Cole looked up at his dad through the mirror and then down at you. “Please be okay,” Cole whispered to you. Katherine and George looked at one another solemnly as they listened to their son. “I won’t forgive myself if something happens to you…” 

It had been a long and agitated night for Cole. His dad had to keep him from bouncing his leg up and down multiple times and gave up eventually knowing he wouldn’t stop. 

It was only when the doctor called their name that his world had stopped. He had turned from the doctor and his parents, gripping his hair before he turned and began punching the wall adjacent to him. He had broken down in tears as his dad wrapped his arms around him from behind. George sank to the ground with Cole as he tried to take in the news of the state you’d be in after the serious head injury you sustained. 

Your skull had fractured upon impact with the ground. There was a slight crack which explained the blood he found on his hand. The doctor went through the types of treatments they’d get started on you but it was when he announced that he wanted to keep you in an induced coma to let you heal properly that made him see red. For how long though…he didn’t want to know. 

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry. I'm sorry, bug. I’m sorry..” He wept in his dad's arms. His eyes closed as he rested his head against his dad's shoulder. Katherine placed a hand over his mouth trying to compose herself, not wanting to see her baby in such a state. 

“If you have any further questions let me know. That’s all for now I’m afraid. I’m sorry son.” The doctor gave Cole a sheepish grin before he nodded to Katherine and George, walking off with that being said. 

“Cole–“ George began, but Cole shook his head, pushing himself away from his dad. 

“How long am I grounded for?” He clenched his jaw. 

“That’s not– Hey let’s worry about it another time, not right now.” George rested a hand on his shoulder. “You’re in a lot of pain right now–“ 

“Pain?” Cole scoffed. “You think I’m in pain right now…” He smirked, flexing his jaw. “No seriously Dad, how long am I grounded for huh? A week? Two weeks? A month? Till Y/n wakes back up? If she even wakes up?” He exclaimed.

“Cole, sweetie–“ Katherine went to console him but flinched when he stuck his finger out not wanting to be touched right now. 

“How long, Dad?” He looked through his lashes at him.. 

“I’m not doing this with you right now son.” George clenched his jaw. 

“Why not huh? I can see it in your eyes already. Your disappointment in me. Come on, we both know how much of a screw-up I am in this family. Tonight only proved it further. So how long Dad?” 

“How long? You want to be grounded so damn much then fine…You’re grounded till the next school year starts. Happy?” George let his hands slap to his sides. 

“George!” 

“Super...” Cole smirked then walked back out of the hospital. 

“Cole! Cole! Where are you going?” Katherine called out to him. 

“Anywhere but here.” He threw a peace sign out over his shoulders. 

Katherine turned to her husbands in shock. “Till the rest of the semester?” 

George closed his eyes, regret hitting him instantly. “I know…I’ll talk to him later.”

“Yeah…then you’ll unground him 'cause that is not what he needs right now. Okay– he is very vulnerable right now. You know how he feels about Y/n and this will only affect him more if we don’t stand by his side. Cole needs us more than ever right now. We���re all that girl has. We promised Triny…” Katherine looked defeated. “Please let her get through this…please get her through this.” She placed a hand against her collarbones. Muttering to herself and praying for a miracle. George pulled her into his chest, pressing soothing kisses against her temple as they stood in the hall. 

[fangdokja]

What happens when a hero's love turns into an obsession that even he can't control?

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured: A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Isekai! Knight x Fem. Reader

♡ Headcanons. #1

♡ Word Count. 1,538

1. When the Hero Fell

Once, he was the embodiment of virtue—a knight who fought for justice, his sword unwavering, his heart untainted. He was a savior to the helpless, a beacon of hope in a fractured world. Every choice he made was righteous, every step forward part of a grand design.

Then you entered his life.

You shattered everything.

He remembers the first time he met you. The moment you outmaneuvered him, reducing his pride to ash and mocking his every belief. You didn’t just defeat him; you desecrated the very ideals he lived for. The court whispered of his humiliation—the knight bested by someone who shouldn’t have mattered. But what gnawed at him most wasn’t the loss—it was you.

The fire in your eyes. The way your lips curled into a triumphant cold smile as you disappeared.

That moment rewrote the fabric of his soul. What was once a man of honor became a creature consumed by obsession. The image of you haunted him—your laughter, your defiance, the scent of your hair as you passed by him, unafraid.

He calls it love. He whispers it to himself like a prayer. It’s not his fault. It can’t be his fault. You made him this way. You forced him to fall, to betray the principles he had once vowed to protect. And now, no matter the cost, you belong to him.

Forever.

2. Shackling You—Literally

You are clever, and he knows it. He’s seen your brilliance firsthand, and he refuses to underestimate you again. There will be no second chances.

The chains are his masterpiece. Forged by his own hands, they are as unyielding as his obsession. They scrape your skin raw when you struggle, the jagged edges deliberately designed to punish defiance. Shackles bind your wrists and ankles, their oppressive weight a constant reminder of his control. With every step you take, the chains chime like a dirge, mourning your freedom.

When your resistance grows too fierce, he takes additional measures. A collar—cold steel etched with his sigil—wraps tightly around your neck. The sight of it fills him with pride, a symbol of his dominion over you.

“This is for your safety,” he murmurs, his tone almost tender as he fastens it in place. His thumb traces the edge, lingering just enough to make you shudder. “I couldn’t bear it if you tried to leave me again. Don’t make me regret trusting you, little mouse.”

3. Shattering Defiance

Your spirit is maddening. Beautiful. Unyielding. He both loathes and craves it. He speaks of taming you, like you’re some feral creature in need of discipline. But his methods go beyond demands. His punishments are precise, designed to erode your will piece by piece.

Defiance is met with starvation, your body trembling in the icy dark of his dungeons. He watches you through the bars, his gaze unwavering, his presence suffocating. He waits. He always waits. Until you break.

When your resistance falters, when your strength dwindles to nothing, he rewards you with twisted affection. His gloved hands cup your face, his touch almost reverent as he whispers, “Good girl.”

The words are poison, sweeter than any comfort you’ve ever known. They seep into your heart, leaving you hollow. His satisfaction is chilling, his smile sharper than any blade.

In these moments, his gentleness feels more brutal than his punishments. He cradles you like something precious, pressing kisses to your forehead as he promises to protect you—to keep you safe. Yet his love is laced with threats, promises of pain if you defy him again.

“Why fight me?” he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. “It’s so much easier when you listen.”

4. Love and Control

He knows your body like a sacred text. Every bruise, every scar, every trembling breath is a testament to his ownership. His hands trace your skin with cruel precision, cataloging every mark he’s left. You’re his masterpiece, your body a canvas painted with his obsession.

“Look at this,” he says one night, his voice low and full of pride. His fingers brush over a fresh bruise on your collarbone. “Proof that you’re mine. No one else gets to touch you. Ever.”

Yet for all his cruelty, his reverence for you borders on reverence. In the quiet hours of the night, his touch softens. He holds you as though you’re something holy, his lips brushing against your temple as he murmurs words that make your skin crawl.

“You’re perfect,” he breathes, his voice thick with devotion. “Don’t you see? You were made for me.”

5. Breaking Your Mind

Owning your body is not enough. He craves your mind, your heart, your very essence. His words are weapons, slicing through your resolve with surgical precision. He twists reality until the world beyond him feels like a distant memory.

“Do you even remember what your life was like before me?” he asks, his tone soft but insidious. “Do you think anyone misses you? No, little one. They’ve forgotten you. You’re nothing to them. But to me? You’re everything.”

When you beg for freedom, for release, he only laughs. The sound is cold, devoid of mercy.

“Freedom?” he echoes, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement. “Is that what you think you had before? You don’t know what’s good for you. But don’t worry—I do.”

And as the walls close in, as his words warp the edges of your reality, you realize there is no escape. Not from him. Not from the monster your defiance created.

6. False Kindness

He’s learned your patterns—when you’re at your weakest, when the fire in your eyes begins to dim. That’s when he strikes hardest.

His mercy is a noose disguised as kindness, a lifeline thrown only to choke you tighter. A scrap of bread. A sip of water.

“You’ve been good lately,” he murmurs, tilting your chin upward with two fingers. “My little mouse deserves to be taken care of.”

The food is laced, of course—a slow poison to keep you docile, thoughts sluggish, your body soft and pliable in his grasp. He hums in satisfaction when you eat it, hands brushing your hair as though you’re something fragile and precious.

Sometimes, he gives you an illusion—a taste of hope.

“Run,” he says one day, stepping back, arms crossed over his broad chest. His expression is unreadable, dark eyes boring into you. “Go on. Escape me.”

You hesitate—you know it’s a trap—but desperation propels your feet. You barely make it a handful of steps before his hand closes around your wrist like a steel cuff, yanking you back so hard you hit his chest. The breath whooshes from your lungs as his grip tightens—unrelenting, bruising.

“Pathetic,” he sneers, his mouth at your ear. “Did you really think you could leave me? You’re mine.”

Other times, the game changes. He gives you space—a larger chamber, full of darkened corners and false exits.

“Let’s play a game,” he says, voice silk-smooth, too calm to be safe. “You run, and I’ll chase you. If you make it out… maybe I’ll let you go.”

He lets you believe it’s real—just long enough for panic to sharpen your senses—before he finds you. His voice calls out in the dark, always a step behind.

And when he catches you… his laughter echoes, deep and guttural, vibrating against your skin.

“You almost made it that time,” he mocks, dragging you back into his arms. “Almost.”

7. Ritual Devotion

To him, you are divine—a holy relic, a deity incarnate, sent to save a monster like him. The depth of his obsession borders on fanaticism. He prays to you in silence, his lips moving as he carves sigils and symbols into the stone walls—your name etched into the world around him.

You wake sometimes to find him kneeling at the edge of your bed, a blade in one hand, his other smeared with his own blood.

“You saved me,” he whispers, eyes shining with feverish conviction. “Without you, I’m nothing. You’re my light in the darkness.”

The sincerity is what terrifies you most.

8. A Bond Sealed in Blood

When his paranoia peaks, when even chains and threats aren’t enough to reassure him, he tells you of the ritual. A final act to bind you to him—body and soul—forever.

“We’ll be one,” he breathes, eyes gleaming with unhinged anticipation. “You’ll mark me, and I’ll mark you. No one will ever come between us again.”

The tools are laid out with care—knives, needles, branding irons—their edges glinting cruelly in the low light. He gives you no choice. You scream as pain blossoms—searing, shattering—and when it’s over, you feel forever marred. His mark—his claim—etched into your very skin.

He holds you after, cradling you like you’re fragile, pressing reverent kisses to your temple as your body trembles.

“There now,” he whispers, his voice heavy with dark satisfaction. “It’s done. You’re mine now… and I’m yours. Forever.”

His love isn’t love. It’s madness—a cage of steel and shadows, a prison he has carved into your very being. You are his masterpiece—his to cherish, to break, and to rebuild—again and again.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Sukuna coming for Megumi's sister at Shibuya but Yuji fights back pt. 4

Part l: here Part ll: here Part lll: here

Pairing: Sukuna x fem!reader; Yuji x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,6k

Synopsis: Sukuna enjoys every second with you by his side. But when Yuji slowly but surely begins to fight back, Sukuna has to act quickly. A sweet innocent kiss before he has to go, before Yuji Itadori gains back his body...

Warnings: this broke me into a million tiny pieces, listened to david kushner's daylight while writing this do not recommend , so much hurt and angst, slight comfort in the end if you're a sucker for my boy Yuji, still enough spice for all Sukuna lovers out there, read at own risk

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @wifenanami

Your eyes are widen in pure horror, letting Sukuna drag you behind him without resistance. You feel so numb, completely shattered from the inside. All the things you saw today, all the things that he did.

Sukuna.

You stare at the back of his head while he hums in satisfaction, casually stepping over corpses, blood and debris. That man, that one man army who holds your hand with the fingers of the boy you love more than anything else. Silent tears escape your eyes. None of this should have happened, Sukuna should have never been able to take control of Yuji.

But oh he did. And it seems like nothing is able to stop him.

“Huh, why are you crying now? I thought you enjoyed the show. Just wait until we arrive where I take you.”

Get a hold of yourself, don’t show him your weakness. But damn, you are so fucking exhausted from all the disaster you’ve witnessed today. No, you can’t take it anymore.

“Let go of me”, you hiss through gritted teeth, ripping your arm away from him just in time before he’s able to touch you again.

“Why so mad? Aren’t you at least a little thankful that I saved your puny life countless times, that I spared your little friends?” he questions, eyes staring at you so intensely that you want to break down in front of him.

“I would rather die than being your puppet”, you bite back.

“Just like your brother?”

His words. His cursed words make no sense in your head, wide eyes staring at him emotionless. What the hell is he talking about? What has all of this to do with your brother?

“Maybe you should turn around, (y/n).”

All colour drains from your face, it feels as if the ground underneath your feet gets pulled away. You want to puke, eyes laying on your beloved brother.

His numb body leaned against a wall.

A wall that’s covered in blood.

Just like him.

“Megumi.”

You don’t know how you do it. Like in trance, your feet carry you towards his body, knees collapsing onto the wet ground next to him.

“Megumi!” you cry out, your desperate voice echoing through the buildings around.

Fuck. This is so much blood. His head, his limbs, his chest. You swallow hard, urgently trying to stop yourself from puking all over him. Pictures flood your mind. Pictures of him giving you a clap on the back of your head, him holding you in his arms when you woke up from a nightmare, him helping you out with your homework. Your lip trembles, whole body shaking in nothing but thick fear.

“You can’t die here, you simply can’t”, you breathe out.

“He won’t. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that.”

Sukuna positions himself in front of you.

What?

You hold your breath, eyes scanning that enormous creature standing in front of Sukuna and you. What the hell is that? Is it responsible for Megumi’s injuries?

“If this thing dies, your brother will live. What do you think, (y/n)? Sounds fair?”

“Just do it, Sukuna”, you bark at him.

“Only if you kiss me.”

You can’t believe your ears, shivers running down your spine so violently that it’s hard to keep your composure.

“Are you fucking serious? My brother is on the brink of death and all you care about is…a kiss?”

That voice of yours, it sounds so dangerous that Sukuna can’t help but smirk. The worn out look on your lovely face, the tears of despair glistening in your doe eyes. Oh, this is absolutely perfect, this is just what he wanted. You went from being a sweet innocent girl to a complete mess, even using language despite you never did that. How cute, how pathetic. Sukuna will break you along with that other brat, that’s for sure.

“You should know by now that there’s no service without anything in return. I have plenty of time, think about your priorities, sweet (y/n)-“

“Is all of this just a game to you?” you yell into his face.

With a swift motion you are back on your feet, standing up against him in a way you never did before. Your furious eyes lock with his, time seems to stand still.

“Partially, yes”, he remarks dryly, hand wrapping itself around your waist before you are even able to react.

“But you’re the price.”

You snort, shaking your head in disbelief. This can’t be real, it has to be a cruel joke. His red eyes are fixated on you, almost swallowing you whole. Does he really want you to…kiss him? God, you hate the way your desperate heart screams in agony, how your head wants to tell you that those are in fact Yuji’s lips.

No. The man standing in front of you is far away from being Yuji.

“Time’s ticking, lovely (y/n).”

For a brief moment, you close your eyes. Maybe, just maybe you can pretend that it’s him for a split second. Yuji would understand, right? Yuji, who always brought your favourite candy with him. Yuji, who always stayed with you in bed until you fell asleep. Yuji, who promised you to love you till the very end. He would get that you have to do this in order to save Megumi, he would maybe even encourage you.

Fuck it.

You let your lips sink against his, feeling how he draws you even closer to his body. Oh, how bittersweet this kiss feels, how much you missed the softness of Yuji’s lips pressed against yours. But the harshness in which he digs his fingers into your tender flesh, how he deepens the kiss without hesitation tells you that this isn’t the boy you love.

“Enough”, you press out before ripping away.

Tame your pounding heart and sharp breathing, focus on your mission. This isn’t about what feels good or bad, this is about saving your brother’s goddamn life.

“Your body betrays you, my dear”, he purrs, aiming to cup your cheek with his hand.

You yank away from him, dumping down next to your brother again.

“Do what you’ve promised, Sukuna”, you hiss.

“Wait.”

You want to scream into his face, want to slap him as hard as you can. But before you’re even able to raise your voice, a sharp pain runs through your guts and turns your world upside down. What? How?

Slowly, your eyes look down at your body. A piercing hole in your stomach, a hole that Sukuna himself must have inflicted on you within the split of a second.

“Just to make sure you’re not running away until I’m back, you know?”

And with that, he’s gone. Leaving you with a gaping hole in your body, breaking down next to your unconscious brother.

What made you stupid enough to think that Sukuna wouldn’t kill you, that you hold any value to him? How reckless it was to even think about this. But even worse, you made a contract with the king of curses himself. Suits you right, pooling in your very own blood, head resting on your brother’s chest.

He’s still breathing, heart beating barely against his ribs. Good. Maybe Sukuna will at least keep up with his words. Maybe…You let your breath out, pain radiating through your whole body.

Maybe Megumi and Yuji will get out of this mess.

You stare at your blood-covered hand, pressing against your stomach in a poor attempt to stop the bleeding. Did he hit something important? You can’t tell, maybe you’d be dead if that’s the chase.

Why are you just laying here, then? Why are you resting your head when countless people around you lose their lives? It is your job to get up on your trembling feet, to lift yourself out of your blood, to stay strong. If not for yourself, then for your brother and Yuji. They deserve it that you at least try, that you go after Sukuna.

“I’ve got this from here on, ‘Gumi.”

Everything hurts, every little step you take feels like a knife piercing through your tight muscles. But you just keep going, hissing through the pain, eyes focused towards the chaos that lays itself out in front of you.

Keep going, push forwards, just a little more, just a little closer.

“Don’t. Give. Up”, you mutter to yourself, holding your stomach as you limp forward.

“You here?”

His vibrant voice sends shivers down your spine, the instinct to run away almost taking over.

“You’ve made a promise, Sukuna”, you press out, eyes darting around the destroyed area in order to catch a glimpse of him.

“Are you not trusting me, dear (y/n)? I’m already on my way to bring Megumi Fushiguro to your people. That woman wearing the white coat, she uses the reversed technique, right?”

Your heart drops to the floor, just the thought of him visiting Shoko…

“Stay. Away. From. Her.”

You turn around so fast that your head begins to spin, already shaky legs giving in.

“Careful, watch your step.”

The bloodlust written on his face, the way his red eyes are widen in nothing but amusement while holding you in his arms. This man…he really is the king of curses, no one to mess with. How reckless to think you could tame him.

“I thought you’d keep up longer, maybe long enough for him to see you. Well, this will be an exciting race against time. Give me a second.”

He places you on the floor, leaving you in the ruins of what once was Shibuya city. One person. Only this one person was all it takes for these buildings to go down, the sheer power of Ryomen Sukuna was enough to tear everything down to the ground.

Your eyes grow heavier and heavier. You’re so damn tired. Tired of trying to save the world, tired of losing countless lives in front of your own eyes, tired of being so useless.

Tired of this hopeless battle. Who is going to save you without Gojo, without Megumi, without Yuji? You stretch your heavy hand out to the sky, the only light being the moon that shines upon you.

“Lovely”, you hush to yourself, thinking about the countless nights you stared up in the sky with Yuji by your side.

Oh, how much you wished it wouldn’t end like this, how hard you fought for a better ending. But as it seems, not every love story deserves a happy one. Some seem to be cursed to infinity.

“Are you dead yet?”

“Maybe wish I was”, you remark so huffed that Sukuna almost doesn’t get it.

“You made it, (y/n). Your brother is receiving medical care at this very moment, I killed that monster and that other fucker for you and oh, that special curse is gone as well. Aren’t you happy? You kept me going, I kept my promise.”

He kneels down next to you, eyes roaming around your blood-soaked uniform. Never did he expect it would bug him this much to let you go again.

“What a waste to let you run into his open arms again. But don’t cry too much, we’ll meet again very soon.”

His hand caresses your cheek gently, smiling at you one last time before standing up and stretching himself.

“Hey brat, be sure so savor this.”

Your veiled gaze drifts to his hands. Hands that slowly begin to tremble, hands that form into fists. Is it really possible, could it really be?

“Yuji?”

He falls to the ground next to you. Sobs, cries, screams escaping his trembling lips.

“Die!”

He digs his nails into the ground so harshly that blood spills.

“Only me!”

“Yuji…”

“How could you take her from me?”

Your body screams at you to rest your eyes, begs you to stop moving. But despite every fiber of your being fights against it, you crawl closer to him, bloody hand coming to rest on his.

“Yuji…”

 And then his eyes dart towards your puny figure.

His lovely brown eyes. The eyes of the boy you love, the eyes that laughed at you countless times before. Filled with tears, filled to the brim with pure horror when the memories of Sukuna slowly start to flood his mind. In his memory, the last thing he witnessed was you getting stabbed in your guts by Sukuna, barely alive body resting against Megumi’s chest.

But this is you. This is…

You.

“(y/n).”

You can’t stop the swell of tears that overflows your heavy orbs, a silent scream of relief leaving your lips. He’s back. The love of your life is back.

For brief moments, for very few seconds, you thought he might never return, that Sukuna took over his body. But those eyes, those oh so gorgeous eyes that look at you with so much grief and agony chiselled into them, they belong exclusively to him.

“Thank god. Thank god you’re still here. I thought I lost you.”

His bloody hands lift your upper body off the ground, pressing you against his chest like the greatest treasure he ever found, keeping you safe and sound while all you can do is cry your whole heart out against the warmth of his body.

“I’m so sorry”, you breathe out.

“I’m so sorry for betraying you, I’m sorry making a contract with him, I’m sorry for kiss-“

“You can’t imagine how proud I am. You did so well, (y/n). I’m so glad you are alive.”

He presses a kiss against your forehead. Just like he does every morning before you wake up, like he does every time you go to sleep. But this time it’s different. From all the kisses you shared until this fateful day, this is the one you longed for the most.

“Let’s get you to Shoko…You need to get fixed…”

Yuji lifts your body off the ground, holding your aching frame securely against his own while walking down the streets of Shibuya with horror in his eyes.

“Stay with me, don’t go out there again. Please, I can’t afford to lose you again, I can’t live with this thought.”

“That’s not possible, (y/n). I have to go. I have to fight. Otherwise, I’ll just be a murderer. But you did enough, you acted so selfless and brave today. I couldn’t be more grateful for having such a wonderful girl by my side.”

“Yuji…”, you breathe out, tears swelling up your eyes all over.

He stops in his tracks, watery eyes staring down at you. Those eyes that saw everything Sukuna did, the countless lives he took tonight, the things he did to you with his very own hands. No, before earning the privilege to let himself fall into your arms, he has to end this fight. Without thinking twice, he presses his lips against yours longingly. You feel as good as ever, sending shivers down his spine by the way you moan so innocently against his mouth. God, how much he loves you. And how much he hates himself for letting Sukuna take advantage of you.

“I’ll make it all up to you, I swear. Rest for now, (y/n). Look after Megumi. I will return as soon as I can.”

You cling onto him for dear life, weak arms refusing to let the love of your life go all over again. You just got him back, out of the tight grip of Sukuna’s powers.

“Promise me something”, you urge.

“(y/n), Yuji, is that you?” you hear Megumi’s voice shout from afar.

“Anything, love”, Yuji replies.

“Come back to me. Promise that you’ll come back to me.”

Another long kiss on your forehead before he lets you down gently, holding you tight against his chest.

“I will never let you go again, (y/n). I promise”, he whispers against your ear.

[nuumbie]

KARMA’S A DOG.

Prompt: You’re a prized worker at the IPC Marketing Department. You spend your days waiting for that flash of black.

Trigger Warning: Reader is mentally ill and a little shit head. Curse Words. General Violent Terms and Reader Gets Ragdolled. Boothill is NOT into you!!! He actually hates you! Guilt! Etc, etc… it’s just all hurt no comfort.

Author’s Note: Written to celebrate his trailer. Save a horse. Ride a cowboy. Contains spoilers regarding his character story.

He’s resting peacefully. This should still count as sleep. You pose the question in your head if you replace the pieces of something, how far until the thing is something else entirely. But he’s still alive. You find relish in that. There’s something in him that still lives.

He still has his head. Maybe, that’s all he has left of his old self. You wonder how the surgery must have gone. Of course you’ve met people who’ve changed themselves so drastically with robotics that you couldn’t recognize them after the surgeries. It’s a rebirth in ways. When you change so dramatically that you’re a different person by the end. His body’s 90% metal. 10% flesh. So, wouldn’t it be the cybernetics that win?

Despite everything. You don’t think so. Perhaps, that’s all that he needs. I think therefore I am. There’s no doubt he’s alive. Not to you, anyway. He’s brimming with human life. He’s more alive than you. Not in the same way where the question poses in your mind with other beings or creatures that change themselves so drastically. Boothill is obstinately simple.

You like that. He’s simple. The Hunt and those that follow it is straight forward. A single path. A single road. You like that you don’t have to read his intentions. You know what he wants and why.

Boothill. Galaxy Ranger. IPC Hunter. The Man who just tried to sneak into your office and put a bullet through your head like he has with many of your employees, those who’ve worked directly under you no less. You know. Most criminals don’t get this far. Not far at all past Pier Point. Oswaldo will have a riot.

If he knew he would. You’re not going to tell him.

Boothill is special.

The cowboy opens his eyes. Your personal grim reaper.

“I see you’re awake.” You smile in a loving way. If you can even manage that. People who can control their expressions make it seem so easy. Laying across his chest. You’ve opened up his core to play with his inner circuits. He must not like that though considering there’s a burning hatred in his eyes which threatens to scorch you. You glance up towards his face and sigh and ignoring the lingering, simmering, resentment. His body is heating up beneath your touch. So, maybe it resonates with his feelings, you wonder if his body steams. “We need to stop meeting like this. You’re going to make me think you’re obsessed with me.”

It’s the opposite way around. You know that. But the very idea that it isn’t causes him to lunge at you. The cowboy turns into nothing more than a blur, all the wires connected to the body collecting samples that took at least a good thirty minutes pulled from him. Some ripped from the walls, and in instants he’s on you.

“You dang—“ his hands make its way to your shoulders, you’re flipped without hesitation. his hands grasping you down, he lays on top of you. breath heavy. robots don’t breathe, though, so you try to think of another word as he catches himself and tries to make it so he’s the one on top. “— you again!?”

“I’ve been meaning to get my hands on you… you oughta’… you ANGEL!” He screeches. Music to your ears as he shakes you more like you’re more ragdoll than person. “AEONS, it’s so freaking annoying! You absolute delight! How did I lose to…”

“Thank you so much for the compliment.” You smile back. Probably the only one getting anything out of this arrangement. Pinned against the floor hand pressed tightly against your waist so you can’t struggle. He should’ve pressed it against your mouth. But it isn’t like you’re going to scream. You’re certain. Lots of women would love to be in this position you’re currently in. But it’s you. And this is far from some sweet, pure, little romantic story. You’re not delusional. You act like you are purely because it annoys him. It’s good for him to build up his rage, his discontentment because it keeps him on his toes. “I was just looking over your upgrades since the last time you invaded Pier Point. As for asking how I beat you~…”

“The electronic upgrade was not the best idea.” You smile. “If we can control your language… your body isn’t hard especially for a renowned genius like me. Have to talk to your doctor about that. You’re lucky I’m the one that found you. Where’s my thanks? If it was anyone else. They’d have torn you asunder.”

“Aeons of COURSE you Market-Phonies have something to annoy the DANGNATION out of me.” he grinds his teeth, looking around for his pistol. making a point about how dead he wants you. you can feel his grip loosen and tighten. he’s likely processing which one would get you to be quieter. “Where’d you put it? My gun. I’ve decided. I’m killing you now. Puttin’ ya out of your misery, sweet-face! You think this is rough? Think of a 9mm lead in your skull will be?”

“Cabinet.” You put on your best smile. “Is it for me?”

“Of course for you. Love you.” You didn’t take away his ability to say hate. So, he must have said something worse like an insult. You just know it’s bad because he says it in a way that’s so vitriolic it almost hurts. “You knew this was coming. I’m not going to miss my shot again. You should’ve killed me when you had the chance.”

You did know it was coming. You wished he would get the one person above you first so you could witness your boss with his brains blown out, the outcries that an Emanator of Qlipoth killed. You could have gotten wine with Diamond and laughed about it and died happy knowing the world was washed clean forever of Oswaldo Schneider.

But you can’t be so lucky. You’ll have to wish him luck. If he actually manages to kill you that is. With how things are going? You’re not making it hard.

He grabs you by the neck so you can’t struggle away to call help. The iron hands encased over your neck like a shackle isn’t a bad feeling. You almost quote as such so he might grab you a little tighter. Sadly, it seems his finger is directly over your windpipe— making talking an impossibility. He really doesn’t want you to run. Not like you would. Dragging you as he goes towards the cabinet. He presses you against the wall one-handed.

Using his other hand to peruse through your belongings. Even if you struggled. You doubt you could make a dent against the material. You’ve always been more of a pen instead of a sword guy.

It seems he’s smarter than you thought. Since, he checks the bullets in the gun. Rather show-offishly, too. He clicks the trigger against your head and nothing comes out. He counts them out, too. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.

You already knew that none of the shots would ring. But here’s a certain heart-pounding feeling even if you know it’s empty. He clutches the gun even tighter till it threatens to break between his metal appendages.

Obviously, you’ve cleaned them out. He glares at you. Of course you’re the one at fault. Of course you were smart enough to know the first thing he’d do when he woke up was try to kill you. Of course you wanted to see the look on his face when he got his gun back when he realized it was empty. “Don’t you have spares? You eat them, don’t you? Just shit them out.” You smile. It’s hard to talk with his hand on your throat.

The floor hits you. Hard.

Or maybe you hit the floor.

Either way. It hurts. Your head spins. But, you collect yourself. Maybe. Dizzy people often can’t tell they’re dizzy. “You going to kill me right? You don’t need a gun to do that. To make it painful. To get your little revenge.” You’re sputtering. Aeons. It be embarrassing if you didn’t say that. If you’re slurring. Though who are you to ask for a clean death? Innocent have died in uglier ways.

“I don’t get you.” Boothil’s boot presses against your chest and juts against your lungs— “make up your mind you wanna die or not? You’re seriously flip-flopping.”

You smile back at him from the floor. “I’d rather my employees not go down with me when you’ve got to escape. Jeremy just got a promotion. You won’t die here… will you space cowboy? So, you’ll have to make your way out.”

“Might as well limit the casualties.”

“You took everything from me.” Robots don’t stumble over their words. Robots are more precise. Everything about him is human. The way he’s so sentimental, emotional at your lap, while you can do nothing but watch. “What right do you have? You have way more blood on your hands than I do.”

“You’re not wrong.” you repeat, quietly. “It’s karma. It’s justice. I’m so happy you exist. So people like me get that just-dessert.”

“I could never ever dream of it. I could never do it with my own hands.” You smile remembering where you work. Your boss. The things you never had the confidence or strength to do yourself. “So I’m glad that you did. Thank you.”

He looks down at you.

He steps back.

You already know.

Too self-aware for your own good.

Maybe you should have shut up. You already know you’ve messed it all up. The way he looks at you is a look of disgust.

“Everyone here’s so fluffed up.” he grimaces. rubbing his shoe against the floor like he’s snuffing a cigarette out. so lowly. “Anyone the IPC touches get’s gosh-dang ruined.”

You know why he did. You ruined his life. You did. So, it was only fair he did the same in return—

Reaching out— before you realize it. “Hey, wait.”

“You’re not dragging me down with you! I want you to pay I’m not letting you off easy. When we meet again. I’ll have changed this place forever. And you’ll be forced to live with yourself…!”

He doesn’t even look back at you. You wish he did.

He lets you go and he runs out the door. You hear the sounds of loud screams. Shooting guns. It turns into a blur after a few seconds. They’re going to fail to apprehend him. You hope.

On the messy floor. Your lab a wreak. You’re sure. They’ll come here. They’ll question you.

And your life will continue as always.

You’ll lie. Jade can tell. But she won’t tell on you. You hope Oswaldo doesn’t notice. He’s the tricker. If he knew. He’d laugh.

“Fuck you, too.”

You put your hands over your eyes and you just ignore everything until someone comes and gets you. You’d use the word save. But, that’s what he was meant to do.

You’ll meet him again. You can wait. It’s all you ever do.

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

Two Hearts, One Home (3)

part two

series masterlist

main masterlist

summary: ben copes with the thought of losing you and just wants to hear your heartbeat

pairing: soldier boy x female supe!reader

rating: R for language, mature themes (?)

word count: 4.2k

warnings: pregnancy, labor, language, vought torturing supe’s | mentions of/alludes to - sex, birth control, infertility issues, miscarriage, loss of a child, and trouble breastfeeding.

timeline: set about twenty minutes after part two

author’s note: part three! this is the happy ever after version, so this will be the final part. however i may be writing a prequel series. <3 (definitely titled sweet creature keeping with the title theme)

gif source

“Sir, I need you to get out of the room!” A nurse yelled, trying to push Ben out of the Supe-ER.

“B-Ben don’t leave me here!” you exclaimed between pained gasps.

“I can’t fucking leave her!” Ben shouted.

“Hey, hey, hey, just let the doctors do their job,” Butcher pulled Ben back and out of the room. “Just breathe, she’s tough as nails, she’s gonna be okay.”

“I- I can’t lose her, Butcher.” Ben shook his head. He ran a hand down his face and wiped the tears from his cheeks. “I can’t…fuck!”

In his fit of rage he punched the wall next to him, his fist going straight through it and peeking out into the other room. Suddenly everyone in the waiting room and the front office were staring at him.

“Weak wall,” Butcher muttered to a nurse who was now examining the hole.

“We get Supe’s in here all the time, that’s the fifth hole this week,” she laughed a little. “Just calm him down before he punches a person.”

“Will do.” Butcher smirked before turning back to Ben. “Let’s take a seat, yeah?”

“No, i-if I stand here I can still h-hear her h-heartbeat,” Ben said, tears streaming down his face. Butcher nodded a little.

“I’ll bring a chair over here for ya then.”

It was Ben’s turn to nod. “Thank you,” he said.

Butcher, true to his word, brought a couple chairs over to where Ben was standing so they could sit down but Ben could still listen to your heart. Ben put his face in his hands and his elbows on his spread knees. Butcher didn’t really know what to do, he’d never seen Ben this upset. Scared, even.

“About two years ago,” Butcher started, “Y/n and I were chasing this asshole who just stole this little girl’s backpack right in front of us. He jumped into his car and started driving off. But Y/n, being an absolute badass, flung herself onto the car, then managed to get in front of it. She stopped it with her bare hands, Ben. Lifted it off the fuckin’ ground. Or how about that time she saved half a dozen construction workers when that scaffolding started to give out so she held the damn thing together so they could all get out? She is the strongest woman on the fucking planet, you know she is.”

“But if that baby is stronger,” Ben said quietly, lifting his head to look at Butcher, “it might just tear her apart. I mean, this is my baby and her baby; it’s gonna be stronger than both of us. It might just kill her, Butcher.”

“What’s the worst thing Vought put her through?” Butcher asked. “I mean, what was something they did that almost killed her?”

“Nothing almost killed her. They stitched a bomb into her chest and it blew to bits inside her. Hurt like hell, but it didn’t come close to killing her.”

“This baby ain’t gonna kill her, Ben. She’s been through way worse than this and she’s still alive and well.”

Ben took a deep, long breath, trying to calm himself down. “Thank you, Butcher,” he mumbled.

“Of course, mate.”

**

“Mr. Barnes?” The nurse who had pushed Ben out of the room was now standing a few feet from where he sat. “Y/n’s okay, you can see her now.”

“Oh thank fucking god,” Ben exclaimed before hurrying to you. “You’re okay! You’re really- fuck!” He smiled when he saw you.

“Come meet your son,” you said, smiling.

“I was so worried about you,” Ben whispered before kissing you. “I- I thought I lost you!” He kissed you a couple more times, putting his hands on your face, before pulling away to look at the baby in your arms.

“He’s so little!” Ben gasped as you handed him the baby. “Look at you! So, so tiny! And you’ve got Y/n’s eyes!”

“Any thoughts on the name?”

“William?” Ben asked you.

“Really?” You smiled even wider, Ben nodded. “William it is!”

“Hello, William Barnes,” he said, once again looking at baby Will. He then looked back at you; your eyes heavy with sleep and a smile still on your lips. “How’re you feeling? Are you…okay?”

“I am now,” you replied, reaching out to take his hand.

**

“Everyone meet William Barnes,” you told the group (Butcher, Hughie, Annie, Frenchie, and Kimiko) when they walked in.

“William?” Butcher smiled widely. A real, genuine smile, which was rare for him.

“Yep, named him after William Shatner! We love Star Trek,” Ben replied. You slapped his arm.

“He’s kidding,” you laughed. “We named him after the man who saved Ben in Russia, then freed me from a Vought lab a couple days later.”

“Sounds like a stand up guy.” Butcher was still smiling.

“Wanna hold the baby?” Ben asked.

“Oh hell yeah!” he exclaimed.

**

“Now’s the hard part, right?” you said to Ben when the three of you entered the apartment; Ben holding a sleeping Will in his arms. “Now we’ve got this tiny little human to take care of.”

“Now’s the fun part, though, too.” Ben shrugged a little. “Now we get to watch the little guy grow up. We watch him start to crawl, take his first steps, hear his first words, hear his laugh when we make silly faces, all the joys of being parents!”

“And we get to watch him drink formula because I’m toxic and could kill him,” you scoffed a little, Ben’s smile slowly fading. “Sorry,” you shook your head, “I’m just tired. Could you watch Will so I can sleep?”

“It’s okay, I’ve got it,” he said, smiling softly again. “C’mere.” He pulled you into a tight, one armed hug and you wrapped your arms around him. “I love you so much, honey. You go sleep for as long as you want, I’ll take care of Will.”

“I love you, Ben,” you whispered as you pulled away. “So much!” you added, yawning widely as you walked into the bedroom.

**

You slept for almost fourteen hours before you stirred awake. You still didn’t feel fully rested, which was strange, but you chalked it up to the fact you’d stayed up for over 36 hours before you crashed.

You heard Ben singing very quietly to Will in the living room as an attempt to get him to stop crying.

As you listened closely you noticed he wasn’t singing a classic nursery rhyme. You quietly went to the bedroom door so you could hear better.

“Hush little baby don’t you cry,” he sang very, very quietly. “Everything’s gonna be alright. Stiffen that upper lip up, little baby, I told ya, Daddy’s here to hold ya through the night.”

“Are you singing Eminem to our newborn baby?” you asked, walking into the living room.

“Uh huh,” he mumbled. “Why? Should I not be singing Eminem?”

“Does it work?”

“Oh yeah, he’s out like a light!” Ben smirked. “Why aren’t you sleeping? You feeling okay?”

“I’ve been asleep since we got home yesterday morning,” you laughed a little.

“Are you still tired?”

“Weirdly yeah, but I’m sure it’s nothing.” You shook your head a little. “Mind if I go back to sleep? Or do you want a turn?”

“Go ahead, I’ve got this,” he said. You turned to walk back but he stopped you. “Wait,” he mumbled before you turned back. He bent down and kissed you, wrapping a now free arm around your waist. “I love you.”

“I love you.” You smiled back.

**

“Fucking hell!” you exclaimed loudly, throwing the breast pump across the room. Ben hurried over from the kitchen, a worried expression on his face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“The stupid pump isn’t fucking working! Or I dunno, maybe my boobs are fucking broken!”

“Hey, hey of course your boobs aren’t broken!” he replied as he took a seat next to you, not really knowing what to say. “I’m sure it’s just the pump, can I help you figure out how to work it?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you sniffled. “It’s all getting dumped down the drain anyway. What kind of fucking mother am I!?”

“Just because you have V in your system doesn’t mean you’re a bad mother?”

“Ben, how are you not more scared about all this?” You looked at him with tears in your eyes. “We’ve got a living, breathing, baby Supe in that room and you’re acting like this isn’t a horrifying situation! One wrong move and we’ll have the next Homelander! How are you so fucking calm!?”

“I’m freaking out too,” he whispered. “Every time you leave the room I let myself kinda go into panic mode because I don’t want to show you how scared I really am.” He took in a shaky, shallow breath.

“Ben!” you mumbled and took his hand in yours.

“I mean, you’re right! If we fuck this up, that kid could bring the whole world crumbling down!” He laughed humorously, putting his free hand on his face to hide the tears as he began sobbing a little. “I’m so scared I’ll be just like my dad, Y/n. I know I have it in me to be exactly like him. I drink more than he did, I’ve killed a countless number of people, I’m a fucking monster! When it comes down to it I am not someone who should be raising a fucking human being!”

“Ben, please don’t call yourself that,” you replied, a sob escaping your lips as well. “You’re nothing like your dad, you aren’t- you definitely are not a monster! You are a good person now! And now is what matters.”

**

“I don’t know, she just went to sleep last night and I couldn’t wake her up.” Ben’s deep voice slowly woke you up.

“Ma’am, can you hear me?” the stranger sitting next to you asked. You nodded. “That’s great, do you know where you are?”

“B-Ben?” you mumbled, knowing he’d hear you from the other side of the bedroom where he was talking to the other paramedic.

“Yeah, I’m here sweetheart,” he replied and hurried to you.

“Ben what happened?” you asked. “Who are these people? Wh-Why are they in our home?”

“Y/n, you weren’t responding when I tried to wake you and I got scared so I called Butcher. Hughie sent someone over to check on you,” Ben explained.

“Is the baby okay?” you asked.

“Yeah, Butcher’s got him in the kitchen right now. How’re you feeling?”

“I feel fine?” You shrugged. “A little confused about the random men in our bedroom but other than that I feel okay.”

“I think we better go,” the paramedic next to you said and stood up. “We’ll get her blood sample back to the lab - all kept confidential - and let you know if we can find out what happened.”

“Thanks,” Ben told him as the men left the room.

“Ben seriously, what the hell?” you asked, laughing a little. “I sleep in a little and you call Butcher? You get a doctor to take a blood sample?”

“Sweetheart, it’s nearly four in the afternoon. I first tried to wake you up at noon and you wouldn’t budge.” He looked terrified and your gaze softened.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” you whispered.

“I’m just glad you’re awake now. You are not falling back asleep any time soon!” he exclaimed.

“So… Butcher’s alone with the baby?”

“Yeah, I better go check on them.” Ben kissed you. “Get outta bed so you don’t fall back asleep, okay?”

“I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

**

“So the blood tests came back…” Hughie told you and Ben through the phone. “Y/n, there’s no Compound V in your system. There’s no trace the blood ever had Compound V.”

“Wait, what?” You furrowed your brows. “I don’t understand, the blood was switched out? Where’s my blood then?”

“No, it’s yours—it’s just no longer Supe blood,” Hughie replied.

“Holy fucking shit,” Ben mumbled.

“Yeah… as far as anyone can tell, Y/n is the first reverse-Supe ever. With your permission they want to use it to make a sort of Anti-V.”

“Wait so I’m cured?” you asked, shaking your head a little. “No offense Hughie but I don’t believe you. Like, at all. Not for a second.” There was an awkward pause. “Sorry, that came off really rude. Thank you for everything but there has to be some mistake. Do whatever the fuck you want with the blood, but I gotta say there’s no way it’s mine.”

“I will get back to you guys after I have more information, okay?” Hughie said before you all said goodbye and hung up.

** twelve years later **

“C’mon kid I said get mad!” Ben exclaimed. He was teaching Will to throw a good punch but the kid wasn’t taking it very seriously.

“Mom said we should always try our best not to let anger fuel us,” he replied.

“And usually she’s right, but in this case you’re hitting a punching bag so it’s okay.”

“Alright, but if mom gets upset it’s your fault!” Will laughed. He threw a nearly perfect punch to the center of the hanging equipment.

“Wow! Good job, kiddo!”

“Is it true you used to be able to break these with one punch?” he asked.

“Who told you that?” Ben furrowed his brows.

“These kids at school said that Soldier Boy used to be super strong but then he got old and sick. You said you used to be Soldier Boy, right?”

“I- I was Soldier Boy, yes. But I didn’t get sick, Will, I- I gave up the super strength so I could have a family with you and your mom.”

“You gave up super powers!? Look, dad, I love you but that was really dumb!” Will laughed.

“Mom gave up her super powers too! You don’t call her dumb!” Ben scoffed.

“Mom had super powers too!?”

“Shit- Uh shoot, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that yet. Mom and I were gonna tell you on your birthday tomorrow, we had a big thing planned and everything!”

“If I don’t tell mom I know and I act all surprised when she tells me, can I get that Lego set I asked for but you said was too expensive?”

“Uh… yes,” Ben said, knowing the Lego set was already wrapped and hidden in the closet ready for Will to open tomorrow morning. “Don’t tell your mom you know, and tomorrow you’ll get the Lego set.”

**

“What’d you do?” you asked Ben that night, after tucking your son in for bed. “Will just said, and I quote, ‘mom I think it’s really cool you don’t have superpowers’.”

“I… may have accidentally let it slip.” He clenched his teeth apologetically, you scoffed, disappointed. “I’m sorry! He was asking me about Soldier Boy and it just kinda came out!”

“How much did you tell him?”

“Just that you used to have powers, that’s it!”

“So, the plan still stands then? We… tell him everything tomorrow?”

“Yeah, he’s old enough to know the truth, I think. If he hates us for how we handled it then that’s just gonna be worse if we wait to tell him.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you muttered, still disappointed Ben spilled the beans.

“I’m sorry!” Ben pouted a little.

“No, don’t do the face!”

“What face?”

“That face you do that makes me agree with whatever you say!”

“Does that mean you forgive me?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled.

“Thank you,” he replied, smiling and holding out his hand for you to take. He pulled you into him and kissed you, smiling against your mouth when you kissed him back. “I love you.”

“I love you, Ben,” you mumbled against his mouth, going in for another kiss.

“I know I say this every time Will has a birthday, but thank you, Y/n. Thank you for giving me all this.”

“Thank you, too.”

**

You were all sitting at the dinner table, it was the afternoon and Will had already opened all of his presents. (Including the Lego set he thought he was bribed with.)

“Alright, Will, your mom and I have something pretty big we want to tell you. Now, it might change how you see us as parents, so um, if you don’t want us to tell you, that’s okay,” Ben said.

“Oh do tell!” He faked an interested look.

You smiled, laughing a little when he put his cheek in his hand to listen.

“Kid, she knows I slipped up yesterday, it’s alright,” Ben said, Will letting out a breath of relief.

“Oh thank god, I have so many questions!” he squealed with joy, calming your nerves a little.

“Go ahead, ask away,” you said.

“One, what were your powers? Two, how did you get your powers? Three, does this mean I have powers too? And four, who was stronger, you or dad?”

“I had super strength, and I could kinda-sorta fly. It was just really big jumps technically, but in a big city it looked like flying,” you told him.

“Wow, that's awesome!” Will mumbled, smiling widely.

“We both got our powers from a super serum that was given to us. Your mom when she was a baby, and me when I was in my twenties,” Ben said.

“And I was definitely stronger than your dad,” you added. “I kicked his ass a couple times.”

“She definitely did,” Ben sighed, smiling.

There was a bit of a pause.

“So… do I have powers too?” Will asked.

“You used to,” Ben told him.

“Will, when I was pregnant with you I somehow lost my powers. Some scientists used my blood to make what they called the ‘Anti-V’ which was a cure for the people who were injected with the serum. You see, a lot of these people, including myself, didn’t choose to take the serum, our parents chose for us. They gave it to us as babies and it ruined a lot of lives.”

“I don’t understand, why don’t I have powers?” Will asked.

“We gave you the Anti-V when you were two-years-old,” you told him. His shoulders fell in disappointment.

“Why? I would’ve loved to be a superhero!” he scoffed.

“It was a tough choice, Will, but it was the right one,” Ben assured him. “Vought, the company that made the serum, they would’ve hurt us, hurt you. But, when you’re older, you can take the serum if you want to.”

“But,” you started, “we want you to really think about it because being a Superhero is nothing like the movies, Will. It’s nothing like Captain America or Spider-Man or Batman. There are so many sides to it, and there are enough bad sides to it that nearly eighty percent of the people who were given the serum ended up taking the Anti-V.”

“And that’s not counting all the kids like you who were given it because of their parents,” Ben added.

“Actually, Batman doesn’t have powers,” Will muttered, beginning to smile a little. “But Captain America is definitely similar to Dad.” He giggled, causing you and Ben to smile.

“So… you’re okay?” Ben asked.

He shrugged. “I’m not like, mad if that’s what you’re asking.”

You and Ben let out breaths of relief, smiling wider.

“Will, we love you so much.” You reached across the table to take one hand and Ben took his other. “So, so much. When you turn eighteen, you can have a chance to take the serum and get your powers back if you want, but not a day sooner. Okay?”

He nodded. “Thank you for telling me all this. Can I tell you something now?” You and Ben both nodded. “I don’t think I want to watch Marvel movies anymore. Feels kinda weird now.”

** another six years later **

“Y/n!” Ben shouted from downstairs, effectively waking you up. He ran up and into the bedroom. “He’s gone.”

You sat up, “What?”

“Will! He’s gone! He must’ve gone to get the serum!”

“No! Oh, god no!” you exclaimed, hurrying out of bed and putting on your clothes from the night before. “Ben! This is really bad!”

“I know!” he exclaimed back. “He must’ve left the second he turned eighteen! Fuck!”

“Alright, let’s just breathe,” you pulled his hands away from his face, “he wouldn’t take it without telling us. He’s been very open about his feelings toward Vought and Compound-V the last few months and he would not just run off and take the serum.”

“You’re right,” he nodded, “but if he has, you remember what that means for us, right?”

“We’ll have to take the serum too.” You smiled sadly.

“Exactly, we can’t let him go through it alone! He’ll need other Supe’s that love and care about him.”

You wrapped your arms around his torso and he wrapped his around your shoulders.

“We can do this, Ben. We’ve been good parents for eighteen fuckin’ years and we’ve raised an incredible young man. He will make the right decision, I know it.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” Ben nodded. “He’s not taking Compound-V.”

**

“Mom, Dad, I got the Compound-V!” Will called out, walking into the house.

“Uh, oh,” Ben mumbled, looking up at you from where he sat at the table.

“We’re in the kitchen, hun!” you called back.

He walked into the kitchen, carrying a small black container.

“I went to the bank today,” Will said, putting the black box on the table.

“Uh huh?” You furrowed your brows, putting a hand on Ben’s shoulder. He reached and held your hand, filled with worry.

“I took the serum,” Will said.

“No,” you whispered, eyes widening.

“Fuck,” Ben mumbled, bringing his hands to his face. “Will, why?”

“Will, we- we love you and we’ll support you in this decision, just-” you took in a shaky breath, trying to stay calm, “did you get your powers yet?’

“What? Oh! No, I didn’t take take the serum,” Will said. “I meant that I took it from the safety deposit box. It’s right here.” He opened the container on the table to reveal the three syringes of Compound-V.

Ben visibly tensed, so you put both hands on his shoulders.

“So… have you, um, have you decided what you wanna do with it?” you asked, mentally praying to anyone who’d listen he wouldn’t take the serum.

“I wanna throw it away. I don’t wanna be a Supe,” Will told you.

“Really?” Ben asked, Will nodded with a slight smile.

“I mean,” Will shrugged, “being a Superhero would be awesome hypothetically. But there’s no such thing. I’d be super, sure, but I’d never be a hero, that part’s always fake. Also, after everything Vought’s done, especially to you guys, I don’t want their serum coursing through my veins. So, I am dumping these vials down the drain…” He took the three vials and held out two of them. “Wanna help?”

Ben let out a relieved laugh as he stood up. He wrapped Will up in a bone-crushing hug.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he exclaimed before pulling away and placing a kiss on Will’s forehead. He took one of the vials before they both looked at you.

“Mom?” Will asked, noticing the tears in your eyes.

“I’m so proud of you!” you choked out. You hurried over to hug him as well as take one of the vials. “I love you so much, Will, thank you so much for not taking the serum.” Ben put his arms around the two of you, resting his head on yours.

After a few blissful moments wrapped up in the group hug the three of you pulled away.

“We should probably dump these into the dirt, right?” Ben asked.

You shrugged, “Once it hits the air it’s useless. So, drain or dirt, I don’t think it matters.”

“Ooh, how about down the toilet?” Will suggested. “More poetic that way!”

“I like how you think, kiddo,” Ben said.

The three of you went to the bathroom and held the syringes over the toilet, needle side down.

“Three,” you all said together, “two,” you all put your thumbs on the ends, ready to push the Compound-V out of the vials and out of your lives forever. “One.”

As the blue liquid hit the toilet water, you smiled. It was over, you and your family were really free.

“Shall I do the honors?” Will asked, his hand hovering over the flush lever.

“Go ahead,” Ben said, putting his left hand on your hip, his right holding a now empty syringe. Will flushed the toilet and you all watched as the poison disappeared and was replaced with clean toilet water.

**

“The empty syringes have been properly disposed of,” Ben told you before plopping down on the couch beside you.

“I’m so glad he didn’t take the serum,” you breathed. “We were this close to losing everything-”

“Thank you,” Ben cut you off, you furrowed your brows a little. “It’s Will’s birthday, it’s the day that I always remember to thank you for giving me all this.” You smiled. “So, thank you, Y/n.”

“You’re more than welcome, Ben,” you replied before he kissed you. “And thank you, too.”

[thevelaryons]

I’ve always found it interesting that of the lowborn/bastard women in the DotD, Marilda is the only one who doesn’t get slandered and insulted in the Westerosi history books.

Speaking specifically about the women who were rumored to have had affairs with noblemen, the women (Sara Snow/Alys Rivers/Nettles) in particular get derogatory descriptions for various reasons. The men they are linked to all either die or are unable to do anything about the rumors (Sara: her rumored lover Jace dies and her brother Cregan is far away in the North when those rumors become a thing in the South years later/Alys: her rumored lover Aemond dies and her son is obviously too young to do anything about the insults people are saying about his mother/Nettles: her rumored lover Daemon dies). Regardless of whether any of the rumors were true or not, it's still the women in the relationships who were described in a negative manner. Even men like Aemond or Daemon don't get as slandered, despite their more controversial actions.

Sara may or may not have existed (the fact that her existence alone is doubted speaks for itself) but in the history books she is described as an "unwashed" bastard. Even the fact she was a virgin at the time of her affair with Jace is called into question. Alys gets descriptors like "slattern" and "cow". She is reviled as a seductress and witch who would sacrifice her own children. Nettles gets insulted as well, both by characters around her and the maesters/septons recording the histories. Beyond the classism, there is also a racial angle to the insults with her skin colour always being at the forefront when she gets called "dirty" and "creature". It’s unfortunate but Westerosi society is unfair to women, especially those of a lower social class, and so they do often have to rely on the men in their lives, whether that’s a male lover/husband, their father, brother(s) or son(s) as a source of protection. Characters like Sara/Alys/Nettles don't get that protection.

Then you get to Marilda's descriptions in the book, and it's completely clean. Not a single insult is uttered against her despite her supposed involvement with two different Velaryon men. Whether her affair was with Corlys or Laenor, it occurred at the time when they were married men. Laenor is dead by the time when he's claimed to be the father of Marilda's sons. But Corlys is alive and well. Not to mention, he's a very well respected figure in Westerosi society. That being said, I can’t see Corlys doing any major PR control here since he does not have the means to do so.

Alyn, however, could ensure his mother did not get negative remarks. He's the one said to have fostered close ties to the Citadel and a positive relationship with the Faith. On more than one occasion, he was anointed by the High Septon himself, which is something that's typically reserved for the King or his Kingsguard. So I think Alyn might’ve used that influence to his favor.

While Alyn does seem like the type who doesn’t care much about what others think of him, he clearly respects his mother so I doubt he would want her to have a bad reputation. Even concerning the rumors of Alyn's potential affairs, the maesters are somewhat dismissive about them and call the rumors "unreliable". They don't give much credence to what third parties are saying on such matters. As for Alyn's mother, she is spoken of with nothing but respect and even flattery at times.

History is truly written by the victors.

[hayanwulf]

Stephen turns into a vampire after a fight with them and locks himself up in the Sanctum until Wong has to call in Loki to help him find a counter spell. Loki offers his blood when he learns Stephen is suffering.

Feed. Kill. Blood.

The thoughts clawed at his mind, digging their ugly sharp edges deep into his subconscious as he fought for control over his own body. His throat felt parched, his fangs itched with the desire to bite into succulent, living flesh and suck it dry. But all he could bite into was the pillow of his bed.

They were supposed to have found a solution two days ago. Yet here he was, starved and shivering by himself in the confines of his room, because he couldn’t bear the thought of having to hurt someone, or even take the precious, life-saving blood from a bank.

He had locked himself up in here for three days now — three entire days of eating nothing — and his control was slipping now, escaping his fingers like water as he struggled to keep an iron grip around it.

He had caught the scent of blood once, once this morning when Wong had come to check in on him, and he had immediately thrown himself at the other sorcerer with the reflex and speed of a vampire, nearly mauling his friend in a mindless frenzy. Thank the Vishanti the Cloak had swooped in, an equal match to his reflexes, allowing Wong just enough time to react and incapacitate his friend, Stephen’s feral mind too tactless to employ the strength of the Mystic Arts against his prey.

If the Cloak hadn’t been there to stop him, and he had attacked his friend..

The thought made his gut twist with disgust.

He was a danger to every living creature.

Piercing his fangs into the tasteless cotton of his pillow, Stephen screwed his eyes shut, wishing the sickening lust would go away, would stop tormenting his mind and body with an urge to hurt another human, to kill.

Stephen would rather hurt himself than ever allow himself to hurt another.

The door of his room suddenly creaked. Stephen’s eyes snapped open, his head whirling around with lightning speed as nostrils flared to swallow the sweet, divine smell of blood, his mind going haywire with the need to suppress his predatory instincts, to yell at Wong to go—

Except, it wasn’t Wong who stood at the doorframe.

It was Loki.

A growl vibrated at the back of Stephen’s throat, anger bubbling beneath his skin that Wong had involved Loki in this.

Green eyes swept over his form scrutinizingly, betraying no emotion.

“Leave,” Stephen snapped, control entirely frayed at its edges, hanging by thin silk threads as he summoned every last bit of willpower within him to not pounce at the Asgardian standing mere yards from him. “Now. And lock the door.”

Loki gave him a deadpan expression, taking one step forward so he was on this side of the door, and used his other leg to slam the door shut behind him.

The world paused.

Stephen quickly fumbled to sit upright on the bed, tugging the Cloak closer, requesting his relic to wrap all around him, constrain him as tightly as they could. And they did, responding to their Chosen’s request. “I told you to leave,” Stephen growled.

Loki simply smiled, sauntering closer to his bed as though he was strolling around in his own house. “And I ignored you.”

Frustration stirred within him, battling against the onslaught of heinous predatory thoughts. “Loki, this isn’t the time—”

“You are starving,” Loki stated matter-of-factly.

Blood ran cold in his veins as he realized why Loki was here. He slowly shook his head. “I’m not feeding from you.”

“So you’d rather torment yourself than take blood from someone willingly offering it?”

Stephen shook his head more fervently. “No, you don’t understand. I can’t control this. I won’t know how to stop, won’t know if I’m hurting you—”

In a quick series of movements, Loki climbed a leg up the bed, coming dangerously close to Stephen. His presence assaulted Stephen’s sharp senses, and he was able to smell the blood rushing just beneath that pale skin, could hear his heartbeat, how it was slightly slower than a human’s heart rate, could tell all the differences in his scent that easily gave away that he was not human. It called to Stephen, urged him to give himself to the abhorrent instincts clawing at his mind.

And then, to Stephen’s horror, with one caress of a cool hand over the fabric, Loki convinced the Cloak to let go.

His only restraint gone, Stephen fell a slave to his own instincts as he leapt towards Loki, fingernails growing into impossibly sharp beast claws in a fraction of a second, aiming straight for that throat with inhuman strength backing his assault—

Equally strong arms stopped his assault with lightning reflexes, and his back was pushed down on the bed as the Asgardian straddled him, restraining his arms with his own, intense green eyes glaring down at him. Stephen growled and struggled, trying to overpower the man who had him pinned down, but it was nothing compared to the godly strength restraining him.

“Do not dare think that I am a helpless prey to you, incapable of stopping you should I want to. I am a god, and neither the lack of a little blood nor a vampire’s strength and inebriating venom are enough to defeat me.”

Stephen stopped struggling, some clarity breaking into his frenzied mind as he registered Loki’s words, realized their exact situation, the way he was effortlessly pinned under the Asgardian. Understanding dawned on him, realizing exactly what Loki was doing here.

He was showing Stephen, rather than telling.

Loki’s grip on his arms eased a little as he continued, “You may feed from me because I am allowing you to feed from me, not because I am allowing you to hurt me. If it truly came to that, I am more than capable of stopping you from hurting me. So let go.”

With that, Loki lifted his iron grip from Stephen’s arms.

Stephen hoped the gratitude was visible in his eyes in the last moments of his lucidity and control.

And then he let go.

Fingers that had grown into claws assaulted the god towering over him, pinning him down on the bed with terrifying ease as Loki submitted. His thirsty eyes zeroed in on the pulsating vein on Loki’s neck, and he dove down, sharp long fangs piercing the cool skin until the sickeningly sweet taste of copper assaulted his senses, immediately soothing some of the feral part inside of him, but his hunger roared louder, wanting to be quenched.

Stephen hated the way it satisfied his mind and body, loathed the way he delighted in the taste of blood in his tongue. He knew he would hate himself later, for having left twin puncture marks on Loki’s neck, for having taken from the Asgardian.

But for now, he reveled in this feeling akin to one’s thirst being quenched after hours of not having drunk water.

Loki, for his part, simply wrapped his slender hands around Stephen’s form, displaying no signs of fight as he whispered a quiet reassurance into Stephen’s ear.

“That’s it. Take what you need.”

[joonieskinks]

incomprehensible - kth

succubus!reader x taehyung | s & a | 1.2k

warnings: unprotected smexy times, some restraining, low-key a dom!reader, angsty love

“Just one more time for me, baby. I know you can do it.. Please, Taehyung? For me?” You say in this almost condescending, baby-like tone. Your hand was over his throat, your legs stretched over him, holding his hips in place beneath you. Taehyung was writhing in his bed, panting and moaning into his dark bedroom.

“You sound so good when you moan, won’t you do it for me?” You play with him, his achingly hard length slipping in between your soaking wet folds. His hips proceeded to buck up against yours every time his length almost slipped inside you. But every time he got close, you pushed him back down and Taehyung would try to escape from beneath you. He knew he couldn't, you knew he couldn't. Not with you holding him down. You were in control. But he so desperately wanted to hold you down and fuck you until he finally had his fill of you. 

“Please, let me cum…” Taehyung moaned out, eyes falling shut in frustration, he couldn't stop himself from trying to writhe around and touch your body. You felt too good on top of him, he just needed to be inside you, just for a little while and then he could finish like you so clearly wanted him to. You got off on this just as much as he did.

“I can’t take anymore…” He trailed off, pulling on his hands restrained to the bedpost by a glowing golden lace.

“You need to finish that badly, Taehyungie?” You tilt your head as you gaze down at him. You loved the effect you had on him, specifically him. Well, only him in reality. You hadn’t been with anyone else. Although of course going to men and sleeping with them in the night to feed off their life force is technically your sole purpose as a succubus, you just weren’t experienced yet. Not like the others. Taehyung was your first, and only after these first few months. You had learned what you were made for growing up, but a lot of what you performed on him in his sleep came naturally. You couldn’t tell if it was because of who you were by nature or if it was because of who you were with him.

The thought sends shivers down your spine every time you think of it - succubi are meant to steal through sexual means, sustain themselves and be the greediest, lustiest creature you could think of… Not sentimental and caring. Considerate. Loving. In love. In love?

You shake the thoughts from your mind, taking Taehyung inside you without a second thought. His arms yank at his restraints, desperate to touch you now more than ever. He groans and bucks his hips into you hard, desperate to fill you up to the brim. You watch his muscles flex, his body full of sweat. You bite your lip at the sight, all of this over you? You’re absolutely flattered. Not to mention, he fills you up so deliciously, nothing excites you quite like him inside you. You’re loving this just as much as he is. You feel complete.

“I want to make you feel good.” You murmur out, moving yourself up and down his length. You’ve tortured him since the first minute he fell asleep last night, and now it's nearly morning. You don’t want him to lose sleep over you, you want him well, but you can’t resist him when he’s practically begging you to come to him in the night. He keeps the door open, slightly ajar, he falls asleep whispering your name and he makes sure to keep his room completely dark for you to creep into. He knows you will come to him in these ways, and so how could you ever resist?

Still, you find yourself worrying. Why’re you worrying? He’s just your plaything…

Isn’t that all?

“Baby, please”, Taehyung moans, his wrists becoming red as he strains, he’s so desperate to be free, to put his hands on you. And at the sight of his pain, you instinctively released him from his binds.

Immediately his hands are all over you, your waist, your breasts, your hips, your legs. He’s on you all at once, and he can’t get enough. You’ve never let him have so much freedom before, always making him bend to your will, but at the sight of him in pain, you succumb and set him free.

He’s touching you softly where you need it and gripping you exactly where you desire it. Taehyung feels like he’s made for you. You moan as he touches you, the thought of him being solely for you makes your face soften with content, and your core clench around him.

“I’ve wanted this for so long, I’m not gonna last much longer,” he strains. Taehyung is absolutely drenched in sweat, you’re squeezing him so perfectly and riding his length. Bouncing on top of him as he watches you in awe above him, he can do nothing but take it and hold you so close. You’ve never felt so wanted, so adored and so loved. Surely, he must love you. Surely. The thought of being so wrapped up in your lover's embrace, you stutter in your stride as you think about him: his love, his presence, his companionship. It’s sending you over the edge as you watch his face contort in pleasure.

“Tae, I’m cumming,” You manage to let out before the giant, white wave crashes over you. You squeeze around him deliciously, moaning his name and your mouth falls open. He comes undone at the glorious sight of you before him.

“Shit, shit- I’m cumming too,”. He holds you close, his arms locked around you and releases himself inside you. Taeyhung buries his face in between your breasts, gasping for air, his arms forbidding you from moving. You can feel him start to get soft inside you, and you find it strangely intimate. You find yourself letting your fingers delve through his hair, telling him he’s done such a good job for you. That he’s so handsome, he made you feel so good…

You let them glide down to the back of his neck, his back, his shoulders and up to his face. He looks up at you, beyond blissed out and exhausted, yet you still find him absolutely irresistible.

“Don’t leave yet, sleep with me and stay-”

“I love you.”

A silence follows.

You nearly gasp at your realization.

A succubus can’t love!

You’re made for lust and lust alone. This is how you survive, this is imbedded in your nature. This is how you were raised. You were taught that your first prey should be devoured, not played with! And most certainly not fallen in love with. Were succubi even capable of love?

What is wrong with you?

Taehyung isn’t phased in the slightest however, instead a small smile appearing on his lips.

“Well, I love you too,” His hands travel to your chin to cup your face and kiss you but you can’t.

You can’t, or he’s lost forever.

His soul, his life force, gone with one kiss from you. Despite it being the feeling you desire the most.

You push him backwards, stepping off him and off his bed. He’s left naked, grasping for you as you slip further away from him into the dark corners of his room.

“Wait- don’t go, please!-”

“I need to, Taehyung” You look up at him with tears, taking one last look before you disappear. For good. You know this is wrong, nothing pains you more than to leave him, but the last thing you wish to do is cause further pain, and you’re scared. So scared of what you are capable of feeling for him.

The wet drops fall down your face as you hope one day he will understand. He has to, right?

“No-, Y/N, don’t leave me here, please! You always stay, we can fix this! I promise, baby.” Taehyung pleads, coming towards you slowly with a hand outstretched so he can try to convince you. His eyes soften and fill with tears, searching yours for any kind of indication of weakness in your stance.

“I’m so sorry, my love.” You cry out,

And then you disappear into the night’s shadows.

Taehyung is left alone in the morning, tears streaking down his cheeks and aching for your presence once more.

“Don’t go, please. I’m in love with you.”

//

part two

[sapphicseasapphire]

Cryptid AU: Heart Potion Effectiveness

I’ve decided to start making little informational posts about some aspects of my au! Some general thoughts I’ve had or answering questions! For this one, I was thinking about biology and physiology and how potions would affect each Link given their differing levels of Hylian-ness. And so! In no particular order:

Twilight (shapeshifter) : Heart potions heal him very well, similarly to how it works in canon. Depending on the injury, he’ll need multiple doses, which must not be taken immediately after each other or else they could cause poisoning. It is recommended that he take one every half hour and rest in between. Note that the dosage he is able to consume will change depending on the shape he takes: a small animal like a bird or squirrel would be able to handle far less while a larger animal such as Wolfie would be able to handle more at a time. Wounds that he receives while in a different shape will always transfer over to the next one when he shifts.

Four (I honestly have know idea what to call them yet) : Heart potions also work very well for them! Not much to say here, it’s mostly the same as Twilight. Although I’ll point out that if an individual color gets injured while they’re split, the injury will remain on the body when they reform. Communication between colors is vital. (Good thing they’re good at that. Haha)

Legend (Mer) : Heart potions have a muted effect on Legend unless he’s actively in his Mer form and soaking in salt water. While he’s in his ‘Hylian’ form, he’s not using his true body, so it doesn’t heal in the same way his Mer body would. Being an entirely aquatic species, he functions better in sea water in every circumstance, and that includes healing. Since he’s not always in a position where he can soak, he relies on Hyrule’s magic for the most part. Or deals with sub par healing.

Wind (Aquili) : Wind, being another sea creature, reacts to heart potions very similarly to Legend. Although because Aquili are amphibious rather than fully aquatic, he’s a lot less dependent on water as part of the healing process. If he sustains a particularly bad wound, soaking him before giving him a potion would be beneficial. But in most cases, he responds well to heart potions. And while it’s true that he heals better while in his Aquili form, changing between Aquili and ‘Hylian’ is no issue for him.

Hyrule (Fairy) : THIS KID IS DRINKING HEART POTIONS LIKE HIS LIFE DEPENDS ON IT. Because, in a way, it does. Hyrule, while he’s a very powerful fairy and has a lot of magic at his disposal, cannot use that magic on himself. He can heal everyone else all he wants, but can’t heal himself. And so, he relies solely on heart potions to get through particularly dangerous battles or accidents. I will note that it is rare for him to get hurt badly enough to necessitate this kind of intervention. He has excellent control of his spells and his glamour. Unless he’s magically exhausted (which he never is, right? Right?), he can defend himself better than anyone. Part of his is because of his extreme caution to never EVER bleed, and partly because of his ability to turn two inches tall and be fully capable of using powerful spells.

Wild (Forest Spirit) : Heart potions are entirely ineffective for Wild, as they are made with parts of monsters. Monsters are made of evil and darkness and Wild is made of Light, so they’re treated like poison to his body. Wild is kind of sort of immortal in that he does not age, but he can definitely be killed. (I treat him kind of like a Skykid for anyone who knows Sky: Children of the Light. When he looses all of his Light, he dies. And he looses this Light to things like Malice and Gloom and attacks from monsters, since they are entities of evil and hatred). In order for Wild to heal, he needs to be strengthened by things that come from the earth. This why he cooks often and eats often.

Warriors (Sword Spirit) : Heart potions do absolutely nothing for him. He cannot drink them. He’s a sword. If he runs out of energy, he can retreat into his sword until he’s back to normal: that’s generally how injuries with him are going to look. His spirit form can only take so many hits before he has to rest. Unless his physical sword got damaged, which would be NOT GOOD. However, they do have a very capable smith in their ranks so I’m sure Wars will be fine. Haha.

Sky (Avian) : Heart potions only heal Sky half way, and in many cases, can be detrimental to his mental health. Since his is the combination between Link and Aepon, heart potions alone heal him unevenly and force a separation between his two parts. As Link is more healed than Aepon, the others might notice a change in his behavior. And due to the general inefficiency in healing physical wounds, the others will opt for different healing methods for Sky; sub par healing is not worth the turmoil that it puts him through. For best healing results, mushroom spores from Skyloft (Loftwing medicine) will be mixed into heart potions and given to Sky. But since those mushroom spores can only be found in the sky and are rarely available, Sky relies on Hyrule for the major wounds and tends to himself for the smaller ones.

Time (God) : Heart potions for Time are a MASSIVE energy boost. This can be very, very dangerous as it can cause him to loose himself, and he won’t come down from it for a long while. No one likes a rampaging God. That being said, he is a God, if Time needs a potion, they have bigger issues.

Also Time is actually legitimately immortal. With no danger of death, there’s no need for potions. I will explain the logistics of his immortality in another post I promise haha!

Original Character Sheets!

[multi-fandom-of-madness]

Steam

Pairings: Rain X Dewdrop

Type: Angst w/ comfort

Summary: Dewdrop feels helpless. He has a new element, a new pack, and a new frontman. Everything has changed, and he can’t cope alone. Thankfully, Rain is there to help.

Warnings: PTSD/implications of PTSD, panic attack, mental break down, physical self harm, blood, self-hatred, non-sexual nudity, implications of suicidal thoughts

Word Count: 2,155

Notes: Read here on ao3. Please read the warnings for this one. There are a lot of descriptions of blood and self-harm, along with the implication of suicidal thoughts. Please make sure that you are taking care of yourselves and reach out to someone you trust if you have to <3

~

Everyone could smell the angry, smoke-filled scent radiating from Dewdrop’s bunk. They could hear the muffled sobs. His privacy curtain was drawn shut, but they could see his tail sticking out, pointed downward. He didn’t even have the energy to lift it into his bunk. No one wanted to ask what was wrong. They hardly even knew Dewdrop yet. 

The only ghouls who had been with Dewdrop when he got in his head like this were Aether and Mountain. Cirrus, Cumulus, Rain, and Swiss were all new…too uncertain of how to help. Aether and Mountain made their attempts to calm Dewdrop down, but they both were sent away, their tails hanging in defeat.

He stayed in his bunk until it was time to get ready for that night’s show, and even then, he remained isolated from the rest. He got ready, then found an unused room to hide in until it was time to hit the stage.

He kept to himself for the most part, unless someone else prompted an interaction. Even then, he didn’t enjoy them. He snarled at Aether on multiple occasions whenever he felt the quintessence ghoul was too close for too long. Hissing at both Copia and Rain if they got too close.

Even at bows, he tried to push himself to the end, closest to the exit. Begrudgingly, he was sandwiched between Aether and Swiss. He couldn’t help the low, rumbling growl that resided in the back of his throat until he was let go.

As soon as he could, he practically bolted offstage. He changed as quickly as he could, only having a few moments of privacy until the others came in. He pushed through the small crowd and out to the bus, curling back up in his bunk.

Everyone else piled onto the bus, being met with the stench of Dew’s anger and hurt, and even though they hadn’t been here long, they knew better than to continue to test him. They made it to the hotel, and he only stayed around long enough to grab his key before running to his room, claiming the bed closest to the window, and letting his glamour drop.

He was finally alone, knowing the others were going out to a bar tonight. He had a few hours until whoever he was rooming with would be back.

He was fueled by hatred toward himself and his packmates (both past and present). He didn’t want the new ghouls. He wanted his ghouls back. The ones who knew him inside and out as if he were a part of them. Sure, he had Aether and Mountain, but he didn’t have the others, and it wasn’t the same.

He didn’t even have himself to rely on. He wasn’t himself anymore. He was forced into being something completely new. Water to fire. He hated himself for being so naive as to think the Clergy would treat him with any form of respect. He was a fool to think that they would treat him like something other than an animal. But that’s all he was to them: a creature to control on their own whim.

He didn’t want to be touring without the comfort and security of his old pack. Yet here he was, sobbing into a hotel pillow, utterly alone.

He could just cry it out, and not have to listen to anyone pity him. They didn’t know what he was going through, and they wouldn’t. They weren’t forced to change. He was a lost cause.

He writhed on the bed, screaming at nothing as he threw pillows and blankets. He clawed at his clothes. He felt claustrophobic. He could feel the walls closing in, and he wished for nothing more than to fade away and disappear into the bedsheets, never to be seen again.

He smelled a familiar petrichoral scent wafting into the room before the door opened. He shoved his fist in his mouth, hoping to muffle the pained sounds that were leaving his mouth. His fangs, tearing at the skin on his knuckles. He wanted to scream at Rain to get out, but didn’t trust his voice.

He was shaking and sobbing in silence. The water ghoul didn’t even come near him, but Dewdrop could tell that he wanted to. He could smell the longing on him. It made Dewdrop’s heart shatter more.

 “Dew?” Rain called out after setting his bag down. Dewdrop heard his voice as if Rain were floating in the puff of smoke that clouded his mind.

“G-go away,” he whispered. He tried not to let his voice crack, but he couldn’t help it. His voice came out cracked. He sounded fragile…broken…pathetic.

Rain was conflicted. He wanted to listen to Dewdrop and just let him be, but there was something inside him telling him not to. He walked over to where Dewdrop was laying and sat on the edge of the bed.

“I said go away,” he sobbed, trying to appear tough. His legs were drawn up to his chest, and his tail was wrapped around him protectively.

He didn’t want Rain to see him like this. Hurting, naked, vulnerable. He was supposed to be strong and wise, but he felt nothing more than weak.

His body was burning hot as Rain put a cool, gentle hand on his shoulder. Dewdrop flinched, but Rain persisted. “Hey…can you look at me?”

Dewdrop shook his head. He hated Rain and the way he was so damn gentle. He took Dewdrop’s spot, and even though he was summoned after Dewdrop’s change, a part of him felt the need to blame him.

Dew clawed at his skin, desperate to get away from the heat coursing through him. He could smell the tangy metallic liquid pouring from where he dug into his flesh.

Rain immediately pulled Dew’s hands away from his body. 

Dewdrop thrashed about, screaming at the top of his lungs. “GET OFF!! DON’T TOUCH ME!!” He shouted, trying to get out of Rain’s grasp. Rain wrapped his arms around him, holding him tight against his chest, and after a few more seconds of fighting, Dewdrop just…collapses.

He grabbed onto Rain’s shirt, blood and tears staining the gray cotton, which now had holes from it where Dew’s claws managed to attack. Rain held him tight, trying to shush him and whisper comforting words in his ears, dropping his glamour to let Dewdrop feel the comfort radiating from someone similar to him rather than a foreign body.

Dew buried his face into Rain’s neck. Every word Rain spoke was muffled as Dewdrop sobbed.

Rain kept his arms around Dewdrop, bringing one to comb through Dewdrop’s hair, undoing the braid that Dewdrop didn’t have the energy to take out, untangling the knots.

“Breathe for me, Dewdrop…nice and slow…breathe with me if it helps,” Rain whispered, slowing his breathing until Dewdrop could follow the pattern.

The wailing stopped after a few minutes. Tears still fell and whimpers were still heard, yet he couldn’t find the strength in him to scream anymore.

“There…I’m here, Dew…you’re safe.”

Dewdrop shook his head. “N-no,” he managed to stammer out.

Rain’s hand stutters in Dew’s hair, but doesn’t stop. He understands to a point. He understands that Dewdrop still hasn’t left the idea that he’s still a part of his old pack. He hasn’t had the time to process. He doesn’t feel safe with Rain. It’s not how he would feel if Rain were someone else.

Rain puts his cheek against Dew’s head and wraps his tail around Dewdrop’s burning naked body, giving Dew as many points of contact as he needs. “Okay, that’s okay…I know…I’m sorry,” Rain mumbles against his hair.

They sit in almost complete silence. The lack of noise only being interrupted by Dewdrop’s shaky breath and whimpers. It feels like hours before Rain speaks up.

“I’m going to carry you to the shower…is that okay?” He asks gently.

Dewdrop nods, fearing the idea that his voice will be too raw to get any words out.

Without saying anything further, Rain lifts Dewdrop out of the bed, carrying him over to the brightly lit bathroom. He sits Dewdrop on the counter for only a few minutes to turn on the shower and grab Dewdrop clothes.

He comes back to see Dewdrop digging his claws into his chest as if he were trying to scratch his own heart out. Rain drops the clothes and runs toward him.

“No, no, no, please don’t do that.” Rain gently grabs his hand and holds them away from Dew’s body. “Dew, honey, please don’t hurt yourself.”

“B-burns,” Dew croaks out. “I can’t- I can’t do this.”

Rain watches a single tear flow down Dewdrop’s cheek as he says that. “Can’t do what? You can tell me.”

“I-I thought that I could…I could be fire, but…I’m not.”

Rain’s heart shatters. He doesn’t know what to say. The thing that made Dewdrop who he is…was changed by force. The thing that Dewdrop knew would keep him safe now turned against him. “I’m…I’m so sorry, Dewdrop. I wish I could help…I don’t know how, and I am so sorry.”

Dewdrop doesn’t respond. He hangs his head and stares at his crimson stained claws in Rain’s gentle hands.

“I’m going to get you into the shower, okay? We can wash some of this blood and sweat off of you. Get you more comfortable.”

“O-okay…”

Rain steps into the shower, still fully clothed, holding the frail fire ghoul against him as the water turns red below them. Dewdrop doesn’t look at him, just stares down at the bloody water pooling at his feet and sinking down the drain. Rain frowns, then grabs one of the washcloths to wipe away some of the blood that’s already dried.

“I’m going to wash your hair, alright?”

Dew nods again, and Rain grabs the hotel provided shampoo. He would have gone out and grabbed Dew’s personal shampoo, but he doesn’t trust that Dew won’t hurt himself again.

He won’t admit it, but Dewdrop is mostly grateful that Rain isn’t leaving him alone. There’s a part of him trying to scream at him to push Rain out and claw his face off. He pushes it down as he feels Rain’s hands massaging the cool shampoo into his hair.

His breathing is shaky, but finally becoming steady. Rain is the only thing keeping him upright…keeping him alive…keeping him safe.

“Thank you,” he whispers. It’s barely heard over the water rushing over them, but Rain hears it.

“You don’t need to. I’m here for you. I know…I know I’m not part of your old pack, but I’m here for you.”

Dewdrop hangs his head, feeling guilty for making Rain seem like an outcast. Throughout all of his own pain and his misery, he’s made everyone feel unwelcome.

Rain rinses his hair out, and he can see the gears turning in his brain.  Once all of the suds are washed out, he turns Dew around to look at him. “Don’t listen to your head. It isn’t telling you the truth right now. I am here. I’m not going anywhere unless you absolutely want me to.”

“I know…I just…I feel so helpless right now,” he admits.

“Then lean on me. I can be your support system if you need one,” Rain assures, pulling Dewdrop into a hug, letting the water wash over them.

Once the water runs mostly clear, Rain pulls Dewdrop out of the shower, drying him off and bandaging the scrapes and gashes carved into Dewdrop’s skin. He goes to grab Dewdrop’s clothes next, but Dew pulls him back. “No…”

“No clothes?” Dewdrop nods his head. “Okay,” Rain sighs as he thinks. “What about boxers?”

“...okay.”

Rain grabs a pair of boxers for Dewdrop and a pair for himself. He holds them for Dew to step in, and Dew puts his hands on Rain’s shoulders to steady himself. Rain pulls them up so that Dewdrop is somewhat covered, then changes out of his own soaked clothes and into his own pair of boxers.

“Let’s get you to bed, okay?” Dew nods again, giving Rain the okay to carry him to bed. He set’s Dewdrop down on his bed, and pulls the covers over him while Rain strips the other bed. He isn’t sure how he’ll end up explaining to Copia or the hotel staff how the blood ended up on the comforter, but he’ll come up with something later.

He crawls into bed with Dewdrop, and Dew immediately pulls him closer. He’s still shaking, but his scent has changed, and his body temperature is fading back to normal.

He falls asleep like that, wrapped up in Rain’s cool embrace.

This new scent is one Rain hasn’t experienced close up before. It’s like cinnamon and a campfire on a warm night. He presses a small kiss to Dew’s forehead and squeezes Dew a little tighter when he finally recognizes the scent. Finally recognizing that Dewdrop feels safe.

[leohtttbriar]

fairly fascinating the way that odo and kira both have explicit moments where they can’t accept the contradictions of each others’ faiths—both as equally founded and perpetuated, in my opinion, in materiality. but where odo is newly experiencing something he has been denied (truly kindred community), kira has for the prior five years been in a constant state of wrestling with the competing needs of her faith, her position, her planet, her history, her government, starfleet, the former oppressors of her people, all while being consistently cast as somewhat naive for the things she adheres to within her religion.

why would the merging of thought/form, idea/sensation exclude the sharing of information? and whether information is exchanged or not, the fact sort of remains, as kira points out, very little is outside the sphere of the political. and she understands possibly better than anyone “manipulation,” not because she’s especially good at resisting it, but because like the space station she parked outside the wormhole, she’s sort of in the middle of it all.

but in this scene: there’s kira, who constantly yearns for control, and odo, who yearns to give himself over, and this small struggle between them reflective of many other small struggles they’ve had in their friendship (regarding the contradictions of faith or the propriety of sacrifice), a battle that kira ultimately loses as odo can’t release himself from the valid call of self-actualization.

to write creatures who are not precisely individuals, altogether all together, more-knowing and more uniquely-knowing than the other creatures in the story is, at its core, to write about paternalistic structures; that is, where one kind of being can look down on the rest and determine for them. it’s the sort of sci-fi premise that asks the reader what they might look down upon in the same way. so this moment and this argument and this odo-plot reminds me of the scene where kira advocated for the destruction of a proto-universe to guarantee their own universe’s survival and odo responded to her saying “they’re ants!” with “they’re not.” maybe it’s that the characters have shifted or maybe the writing is just inconsistent in the way the writing in tv series tends to be over the years, but maybe kira and odo are still saying the same thing: where odo says “this is the law. we cannot argue with it or be clever about it” kira says “i don’t want my people die. i don’t want to die.” because death is also political. and, for kira, oppressive—dividing one from another and one’s choices, and individuating in a way that merges one too much with everything, leaving one with nothing. maybe even a process, to her, that is very like giving oneself over to “the great link.”

[hand-written-dreams]

CRIMSON SHADE

Chapter 09

In the Eye of the Storm

I call her trouble

She knows exactly what she's doing to me

- ( The song of the chapter is " Trouble" by Camylio)

The rain pounds against the windshield, the rhythmic sound blending with the low hum of the engine as he grips the steering wheel tighter. His eyes remain fixed on the road, but his mind is far from focused on the drive. Instead, it’s tangled in thoughts of her.

Why her?

Why can't this girl stay the fuck out of his life?

And now she is living rent-free in his fucking head as well. Nonstop.

The wipers swipe furiously, clearing the glass for just a moment before the downpour obscures it again, just like his thoughts of her. No matter how many times he tries to push her out of his mind, she keeps coming back, unsettling him in ways he can’t control.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

He isn’t supposed to feel anything.

Not toward her.

He has built walls around himself for a reason and has mastered the art of indifference. Nobody knows what he had to do to stand in a place where he looked at her and felt nothing.

But there she is.

Back again in his life with a bang.

The girl is a chaos. Whenever she is in his life, she brings nothing but carnage.

Khushi Sen Gupta.

The bane of his existence.

She will be the ruin of him, he can feel it in his bones.

Just like she ruined him 18 years ago.

But this time, she's back to ruin him in a different way. And he’s not sure which one is more dangerous, the little girl who shattered his world then and turned his life upside down or the woman standing before him with fire in her eyes now.

Her fiery Hazel eyes flash through his mind.

Fuck!

He bangs his hand on the steering wheel hard, triggering several sensors all at once.

Anger doesn't suit him. He has meticulously controlled it all these years, sealing the cracks, ensuring that no emotion slips through, not anger, not fear, not pain..... not anything.

Yet, she's already found a way of slipping through the cracks, getting under his skin. She is like a splinter lodged deep inside.

Irritating, persistent.

And impossible to ignore.

One moment, he convinces himself she doesn’t matter, that she is just another complication he can manage. And yet, in the next breath, his mind will drift to her. Those defiant eyes, how the green around her iris seems to flare up like it's caught on fire, whenever she seethes with rage. The way her skin flushes, the way her voice quivers with anger or softens in the next moment. And then, there are her lips and the way she bites them.

Damn it. The girl is fucking haunting. She has been in his mind like a spell since the night she held a knife to his back.

He met plenty of beautiful women in his life, women with perfect bodies, perfect hair, perfect skin. Supermodels, movie stars.....yet they all seem to fade away when it comes to her.

What is it that made him so fixated on her?

It isn’t like she is new to him. He's seen her before, knew what she looked like. So what has changed?

He shouldn't pretend like he doesn't know what has changed. He knows, damn it.

Then, again. Why her?

He should not fucking care. She should be just another casualty, another collateral damage. He presses harder on the gas, the car slicing through the rain-soaked streets.

It’s not possible that he can’t throw away the thought of a certain girl from his head. Arnav Singh Raizada can't be affected by anyone, especially not by her.

It is infuriating, maddening, to be so consumed by someone he wants nothing to do with. The rain falls harder, and he drives faster as if somehow, speeding through the storm will drown out the storm within him. But it doesn’t. He knows it never will.

But one thing he is sure of -- Khushi Sen Gupta is the most dangerous creature he has ever encountered. A chaos wrapped in a red saree, dancing in the rain, and she’s back again to wreak havoc once again. A storm he thought he'd survived, only to find it returning fiercer, more dangerous than ever.

And this time, she might destroy him for good.

Fuck!

He storms into his office, his secret office, where he conducts his other interests. Water drips from his soaked clothes. His hair is a chaotic mess from running his fingers through it.

He shrugs off his drenched blazer, tossing it onto the leather couch, not bothering to glance at the door as it clicks shut behind him.

Sheetal is already inside, sitting on his desk, waiting for him. She raises her eyebrow at his appearance but quickly masks it with a sultry smile. “Rough day?” she purrs, leaning back slightly, her eyes roaming over his dishevelled figure.

He barely acknowledges her as he sits down behind the desk, rubbing his temple. But before he can settle into his chair, she moves swiftly, sliding off the desk and onto his lap in one fluid motion.

"Arnav, you’re soaked," she says as she places a hand on his chest, fingers trailing the wet fabric of his shirt.

"So am I." Her lips curl into a smile.

For a moment, he doesn’t react, his gaze distant, staring past her as if she isn’t even there as he loosens his tie. Then, slowly, his eyes lock onto hers.

"Is Mr. Rathore's dick not keeping you satisfied? If you need another one up your ass, I can arrange that. But don't play this kind of stunt on me." His voice drops down an octave. "Now. Get. Off. Me."

She pouts, sliding off his lap and settling into the chair across from him, "You are no fun."

"Why are you here?" His tone cuts through her playful act.

She bites her lip, flashing him a coy smile, the same tactics she always uses when she wants something. It might work on Mr.Rathore, but not on him.

"Umm...Listen, it's been four years. I want out. How long do I have to keep playing this part?"

"You get me what I want and you are free to go."

"Didn't I get you enough intel already? Didn't I tell you about the deal? ......and the thing with the Serpent wouldn't have been possible if it wasn't for me?"

"It's not time yet."

"I don't fucking care!!!" Her voice shakes as she clutches her head.

What the....! Why's she so dramatic today? She wants drama, he can be equally dramatic. Also today is not a good day . Not for him.

"Don't you just look pretty with all your body parts intact, Sheetal? Or what's his name again, Aarav, right?" He says turning his laptop on. Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see the trembling of her hands. Her eyes widen at the mention of this name. "Do you have a short-term memory? Do I need to remind you all of these... every two months? About what will happen if you don't do what I say?"

"You know that old hag loves me. I can ruin your life in a second if I just open my mouth."

He chuckles, barely glancing up from his screen, "It's funny that you think you can use this against me." He just shakes his head, typing away a pending email to one of his business partners. "By the way, I thought you already opened your mouth for him."

"You...."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk...." his voice sounds icy. "Think twice before cursing the man who holds your son's life in his hand."

Her eyes gloss over as she looks away. "I haven't seen my son properly in last four years....because you have him captive...."

"I don't have him captive. You know it very well. If you want an increase in the visiting hours. You can just say so...Stop these theatrics."

"Death would be much better than this. Why don't you just kill me?" she whispers looking out of the window.

Now, she is taking it too far. Exactly when she knows he won't kill her.

"That's, my dear, would be a waste. And, why would I do that? You've been so good to me. Besides, it'd be a shame to lose such a pretty face."

She has wasted enough of his time. She needs to go. He has other matters to take care of. "And, just so we're clear, If ..You...Ever..Open Your mouth for anything other than his dick. I won't kill you..umm..no....I will just kill your son. And...I will let you live. "

Her face pales as horror spreads across her features.

He smirks, "I am kidding,..... sort of."

"You are a monster."

"Tell me something I don't know," he sighs. "We had an agreement, Sheetal, didn't we? As long as you keep your end of the deal, I'll keep mine. So why are we here tonight, threatening each other?"

She just sits there pensively looking outside the window. "Go home before I change my mind." His tone is final.

The click of her heels fades as she leaves, the sound grating on his nerves. He leans back in his chair, eyes narrowing.

Sheetal has been testing his patience far too often lately. He doesn’t have the habit of repeating himself, and her constant mood swings are starting to wear him thin.

He taps his fingers against the desk, considering. Is it time to get rid of her?  Not yet. No, he needs her for just a little while longer. Mr. Rathore is no fool, removing her too soon would raise suspicions and he can't afford that right now. Timing is everything.

A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. Soon. Just a little longer, and she’ll be discarded like the pawn she always was.

He first met Sheetal at one of their fashion shows, amidst the glitz and glamour of the Fashion Line Group. A supermodel with legs that seemed to stretch on forever, a sultry smile that could weaken even the most resolute of men. She glided through the room like she owned it, a confidence so sharp that it cut through any sense of modesty. She drew attention effortlessly like a magnet, the kind of woman who didn’t have to try to be noticed.

Even Mr. Rathore, known for his stoic indifference, couldn't take his eyes off her despite his age. So much so that he started pursuing her and they started seeing each other secretly.

With her natural charm, that smooth, flirtatious voice, and a manipulation technique so precise it was almost art, Sheetal knew how to make a man fall for her. She knew how to get what she wanted, and she always made sure she did. She had an insatiable desire for luxury, money, comfort and a strong will to do whatever required to achieve that.

Arnav had seen through her from the start. To others, she was a vision, a desirable conquest. To him, she was a weapon, one he could wield as he saw fit.

So, he offered her a deal, ten million a year, for her to do whatever he said, and to his delight, she accepted. But there was one condition, he had to ensure her son’s safety. So, Arnav had Aarav moved to a safe house, somewhere she could only visit with proper planning.

And that’s when the real game began. The key lay in knowing how to place her in the right spot. With meticulous planning, he positioned her in Mr. Jha’s orbit to see if he was taken by her beauty like others or not. Mr. Jha was, to put it more accurately, absolutely taken by her. So, Arnav ensures she’s close enough to Mr.Jha to gain his trust, to become indispensable.

She played her part perfectly, whispering into Mr.Jha's ear about how she could work for him by warming Mr.Rathore's bed. Mr.Jha liked that idea very much, didn't he?

After that, she kept throwing her web at Mr.Rathore and he got tangled in it more and more. And soon they started living together. That part was surprisingly easy. Guess, he was lonely after the death of Akash's mother. Then again, since when had he been so faithful to his marriage?

Mr. Jha thought she was working for him, spying on Mr. Rathore from within and feeding him valuable information directly from the eagle’s den. What Mr.Jha didn’t know was that the one pulling the strings all along was someone else altogether.

Sheetal wasn’t anyone’s puppet but his.

Every move she made, every bit of intel she whispered into Mr. Jha’s ear was orchestrated by him. It was all part of the plan. His plan.

He wonders what’s gotten into her lately. He can tell she’s been enjoying the attention from these powerful men, relishing the control, the taste of power that came with having them in the palm of her hand. But recently for few weeks, her behavior is off... unpredictable. She's also got him in a very bad time. He needs to talk to her and figure out what's really going on.

Honestly, Sheetal has been very useful to him. Extracting words from Mr. Rathore is no simple task. The man is a fucking vault, tightly shut. Yet, somehow, she's managed to coax the secret out of him. It just took four long years.

Recently, they had a breakthrough, and she just got him the greatest intel of all. The deal Mr.Rathore made with the other families, the leverage he holds over them. The leverage he holds over him to an extent.

It's a brilliant deal, he has to admit. Ruthless, calculated, and perfectly executed, exactly the kind of move he would have made. That’s what he got from Mr.Rathore. No sentiment, no weakness. Just power plays and leverage. It’s a game where only the heartless survive and Mr.Rathore understands that well.

But one thing very peculiar yet commendable about these cold-blooded gangsters is that they might kill your offsprings, but they do love their offsprings to the death. After all, family comes before everything else.

Huh! Anyway.

Armed with those intels, plans were perfectly executed. Mission was accomplished. But a little complication with her fiery hazel eyes and sassy words entered his life. And she didn't enter empty-handed, she entered with knives.

Plans had to be scrapped and remodelled. Old chess pieces had to be removed and replaced with new ones.

It was time to get rid of Mr.Rathore's childhood friend slash bodyguard, Mohan Rajjani and set someone from Arnav’s arsenal in Rajjani’s place.

About A Week Ago

He asked Rajjani to meet him in the cafeteria of Rathore Industries. It's a place devoid of CCTV, perfect for the occasion. They’re supposed to go over the security details for Mr. Rathore's upcoming visit to Russia. They were trying to do business with the Russian mob, the Bratva, for some time.

In the secluded corner, Arnav sat on the couch with his back against the wall, two steaming cups of coffee in front of him.

One for him, one for Rajjani.

Mr. Rajjani loved coffee.

Double espresso, extra shot, no sugar with full cream milk--hot, not streamed.

Rajjani finally arrived, a solid presence and a no-nonsense attitude that had served him well over the years. Even in his older years, there’s an unmistakable fierceness in him. He made his way over, his expression a mix of curiosity and caution. Arnav gestured for him to take a seat.

“Mr.Raizada,” he greets, his tone friendly yet wary.

Arnav slide the coffee cup across the table. His eyes narrowed as he appraised the older man seated rigidly across from him.

"The coffee's for you."

"Oh, thanks."

Nodding his head, Rajjani took a careful sip from the cup.

Arnav’s eyes fixed on his own cup as he slowly tore the sachet of sugar. He picked up a spoon from the saucer in front of him and started to stir his coffee, leisurely, taking his time. His voice was dangerously calm as he asked, "Is the coffee up to your liking, Mr. Rajjani?"

"Surprisingly yes, the canteen boy finally learned."

Arnav simply nodded and leaned back, placing one ankle over his knee. He continued drinking his coffee while scrolling through his phone. He stayed silent, just sipping his coffee and watching Rajjani from the corner of his eyes. That was always his go-to move. People underestimated how powerful silence could be, especially when they couldn’t stand the weight of it. Humans had a tendency to fill the gaps, and he knew how to use that against them. It was psychological torture, a game he’d mastered over the years.

The silence was thick between them. When it became unbearable Rajjani shifted, casting a glance at Arnav.

"Why don't we talk in front of Mr. Rathore? He is alone in his office."

"I just want to talk to you alone."

Rajjani hesitated for a moment and Arnav could see the wheels turning in his mind. Years in this business had sharpened Rajjani's instincts for trouble, a survival skill he had mastered. Just as he began to rise from his seat, Arnav decided to interrupt.

"I didn’t give you permission to leave, Mr. Rajjani." Arnav said as he looked up.

Rajjani's eyes hardened as his suspicion was confirmed. "I don’t take orders from anyone except Mr. Rathore."

Arnav pursed his lips, measuring Rajjani with his eyes."You will....from me."

Rajjani scoffed, "Do you think I give a damn, boy? I grew up with your father. I don’t fear you."

Arnav paused, lowering his cup to the table. "Yet."

He looked at Rajjani’s coffee cup. It was empty.

Indicating Rajjani’s cup with his eyebrows, he continued, "You know the coffee you just enjoyed so much? It's poisoned. An extremely rare blend of toxin, very hard to acquire and very expensive,... but I collected it especially for occasions like this."

Rajjani’s smirk faded as his face paled, his fingers twitching involuntarily towards the cup.

"But that's beside the point," Arnav added with a casual wave of his hand. "Just one drop or two... and I’d give you about five....umm, no..maybe ten minutes at best.....Soon you will start to sweat and your heart will begin to race...and then it’ll feel like it’s about to burst....Unless, of course, you get the antidote, which just so happens to be in my pocket."

The color drained from Rajjani’s face.

"What is that? Am I smelling fear?" Arnav’s smile widened, as he crossed his arms, his head tilting to the side. "I just fucking love the smell of fear.... Don't you?"

Rajjani tugged on his collar, sweat beading on his forehead.

"You don't have a lot of time, Mr.Rajjani . I suggest you start to cooperate." Arnav said looking at his watch.

Rajjani exhaled sharply, "What do you want?"

"You know, this is why I like you. You really know how to value others' time." Arnav drawled out casually. "Now tell me about the girls."

"What girls? I don’t know anything about any girls!" Rajjani stammered.

"You know, Mr. Rajjani, I don’t like people who lie to my face." Arnav stated as he leaned forward. "Mr. Rathore has a safe house in Lucknow for all the girls, doesn’t he?"

Rajjani’s silence was answer enough.

"So you know about the girls, huh? What I want to know is..., " Arnav picked up a napkin and offered it to Rajjani. "..... about the one growing in the shade of the serpent. Who is she?"

Rajjani hesitated, before finally speaking, his voice wavered. "She’s the real deal, I see." Rajjani gulped then continued, "The raven. She’s the daughter of the raven...... you know all too well about the raven, don’t you Arnav?"

Arnav could feel his face hardened, but he kept his emotions in check. "He wasn’t married. Mistress?"

Rajjani smirked weakly, trying to regain some composure. "More of a lover. He was the lover boy of the group. Loved that girl probably most of his life. But couldn’t marry her because of your father. Such a great friend he was."

Arnav clenched his jaw, "What happened to the mother?"

Rajjani’s gaze dropped to the floor. "She died. I don’t know how. After her death, he brought the girl to your house."

Yes, he knew all about how the girl was brought to their house. Need no reminder of that.

Rajjani's breath came in short, panicked gasps. "I’ve told you everything I know. Now give me the antidote."

"There’s no antidote."

The old man’s face contorted in shock and rage. "You lied! You have no ethics."

Arnav smirked, "I never said I have."

"Mr. Rathore will know about this."

Arnav unlocked his phone, typing a message to his manager, his tone is almost conversational. "You’re dying of a heart attack, Mr. Rajjani. No one will find a trace of the poison in your body in the next fifteen minutes."

"Mr. Rathore will suspect something." A weak voice rasped out.

Arnav’s smile widened, "Really? Do you honestly think Mr. Rathore will suspect me?"

The silence that followed was suffocating. Rajjani’s eyes filled with despair as his body betrayed him. He leaned forward, clutching his chest, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. With the last of his strength, he spat out, "You will rot in hell, Arnav."

Arnav straightened and stood up, "See you there in a couple of years," he said, buttoning his coat. "Make it ready for me, and be prepared to kneel at my feet."

His tone dropped to a deadly whisper as he turned to leave, leaving Rajjani's lifeless body slumped on the table. "I was born to rule, Mr. Rajjani. I will die to rule as well."

His phone pings, bringing him back to the moment. His eyes flicker to the screen.

"ALERT: Unauthorized Access Detected!"

What the hell!!

TheSwallow?!?

"Oh, little bird," he muttered under his breath, "What have you done?"

A dangerous glint flickers in his eyes as he feels the thrill running down his body.

The beauty of a trump card is that it’s played when no one expects it. It’s not about power, it’s about timing.

And this little bird.

She is his.

Author's Note: Hey everyone! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.

I got a bit lost in Arnav's POV this time. His mind is a can of worms I was hesitant to open! This chapter is pivotal, filled with crucial hints, and now I’m scared, all you brilliant readers might figure it out too soon. Let me know your thoughts and theories in the comments!

Lots of love!!!

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@arshifiesta @featheredclover @phuljari @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @chutkiandchotte @msbhagirathi @herelivesahobbit @titaliya @shiyaravi

[demisexual-dryad]

I’ve had,,, an idea,,, like a beautiful, beautiful idea for a fantasy creature Au for ace attorney.

I’ve had oread* miles edgeworth and fire spirit phoenix wright FUCKING INVADING MY BRAIN. Here’s some of my brain rot. And the reference pose I used just in case someone was looking for it (thank you og pose posters of the art world you are gifts of gods I swear it, I used number three but I altered the shit out of it AND THOSE HANDS TURNED OUT SO DAMN NICE) and I have ideas for who is what if yall wanna hear me out. (Please say you do I’m begging I wanna theory dump so bad)

So some tidbits. Yes Phoenix has little fire wings and he can (kind of anyway, it’s more like floating) fly. It is important to note; he’s not a true Phoenix, just an elemental being made of fire. He can change his form (he’s literally an essence of fire itself contained in an elemental core.) They flare when he gets happy, excited, jealous, worried, or angry. They tend to recede or die out when he’s sardonic or in any other depressive mood. He also flutters them a little when he’s really stoked or happy.

He can control how hot his external flames burn, same with his wing size (when he thinks about it).

If his internal flame goes out he dies. If it dims due to illness or lowered body temp, he does get really sick (like a flame getting weaker- yes he was really not ok after the bridge incident, and the taser gave him fever chills for two days after because it was too close to his heart. Glass had to be removed from his stomach after Dahlia because he can’t fucking digest glass and it melted into a huge wad in his stomach causing a large blockage. The poison dahlia used had a side effect of lowering body temp, so Phoenix still got sick from being stupid.)

Also. This motherfucker has to eat. A LOT he literally has to consume a fuel source (food, coal, wood, anything that can burn) so he doesn’t yknow. Stop burning.

He does glow! From the inside out! Lantern boi.

Miles is an Oread. Oreads are Greek rock, valley, mountain, and grotto spirits.

He’s made of limestone. Looks intimidating, but crumbles apart easy.

Yes. He does grow garnet crystals out of his horns.

He can mold and shape rocks at will, which is useful because when he pushes himself too hard or is stressed he can’t hide it. His body parts just start crumbling off. (Dw, they snap back into place like nothing happened but it’s definitely unsettling. Think: “Your arm’s off!” “It’s but a fleshwound.”)

I gave him a tail and more animal like legs to be more of a representation of animals that live in his life source area (there’s a sacred grotto he’s bound to, same one as his father, he visits to check in every once in awhile.)

Because his life essence is linked to the grotto, he can only get sick or die if his source area is sick or dying/destroyed- or if his heart is damaged or destroyed (it’s like a little physical link to their source area, can’t function without it.)

Earthquakes are still big scary. They’re extremely painful, like if all your growing pains hit at once. Miles experienced his first one when trapped in that elevator, which freaked him out so bad on top of the fighting that… well, we know how it ended. Even though he doesn’t need to breathe (made of rock) he still had a panic attack from stress and went unconscious from it. Not fun.

Also!! If he blushes too hard, he can melt!! His ear!! It’s melty!!

Big teefs for eatin rock. He does have to consume extra mineral rocks or he can be a little brittle.

He can shift into a more “human” form without a tail and with regular legs, but it’s not as comfortable as his standard form. Bratworth definitely spent more time than he should’ve trying to look more human to fit in with the Von Karmas.

He wiggles his lil ears when he’s content or happy. Because that’s cute and it makes me happy.

I’ve been thinking up theories for like most of the cast. Vote in the poll if you wanna hear more!