#even when they were alive and treated like trophys

[crustyfloor]

I don't remember if that information is actually canon or not because some are saying it's in an old deleted livestream and some are saying it's not true and I have the memory of a goldfish (help. but I'll go looking around to see).

Ivan hugging the wagyein feels so deep to me. Ivan doesn't think of himself kindly in canon, almost to a self-deprecating extent. When he's shown being close to such a terrifying creature, touching it so casually. Like he understands-- as if he's comforted by it, accepting it. To me, It's like a metaphorical and symbolic way of him embracing his own inner 'monster'.

(Also like, the way you can compare them too? red eyes/pupils, snaggletooth >< teeth, solitary and protective, eerie?....Ivan....)

[screeching-bunny]

Yandere! Townspeople Harem x Lucky Reader

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

A/N: I have no clue what I was on when I wrote this 💀. This is also inspired by a Reddit post I saw long time ago.

🌟 Yandere! Townspeople who are absolutely enamored by you and everything that you do. They treat you as if you are some kind of entity waiting to be put on a golden pedestal and paraded around town. You are essentially the town’s golden boy/girl/person, a mascot if you can even call it that. In their eyes everything that you do is inspiring and encouraged. It also doesn’t help that you were born with this amazing power that causes you to become extremely lucky. No matter the deed, every action was thrust into the spotlight as if it were a gracious gesture for the community's well-being. Take, for instance, if you ever fatally shot someone the townsfolk would erupt in applause, discovering the individual to be a notorious mass murderer and your action saved the town.

🌟 Yandere! Townspeople who can’t help but gush over every miniscule achievement that you got. You got a perfect attendance award? They wouldn’t expect anything less from you. Did you just get a participation trophy? Well they're cheering for you as if you just won the world cup. To say their actions are embarrassing is definitely an understatement. Everytime they cheer for you, you can’t help but die a little bit on the inside.

🌟 Yandere! Townspeople who absolutely cannot fathom the idea of you moving out of their town. They would much rather skin themselves alive and commit arson than to allow you to leave them. Everywhere you go, there will always be some form of eyes on you. There will always be some type of survance of you at any time of the day. Depending on the person, the townspeople's love for you can either be platonic or romantic. Basically half of the town wants to fuck your and the other half sees you as their beloved child or grandchild.

🌟 Yandere! Townspeople who may or may not be human. Like sure they might have the occasional human sacrifices but what town doesn’t!?!? This is totally normal behavior that people exhibit. What’s that? Did you just see a tentacle coming out from that woman over there? Nahhh. You must be imagining that! What a cute and overactive imagination you have there. In all seriousness, it would literally die for you. You're just a cutie patootie to them. Your small teeth are so cute compared to their razor sharp fangs. You know, you could really use that small mouth of yours and suck on their–

🌟 Yandere! Townspeople have a monthly ritual where they gather around to brag about all of the items that they stole from you. Never in your life will you see someone so happy to own a pair of used underwear that didn’t belong to them or some used pair of socks. If you looked up a textbook definition of “down bad” then a picture of the Yandere! Townspeople would be the first images to pop up. In your presence these people act as if they had never touched grass or seen the sun before. They all seem to have some type of mutual agreement that in your presence, they would try to act somewhat normal in order to not scare/scar you too much.

—

From a young age, your luck was apparent. In school, while others struggled with exams, you breezed through them effortlessly, always managing to stumble upon the exact answers needed to excel. Teachers marveled at your natural knack for stumbling upon solutions, even in the most challenging of situations. As you grew older, the extraordinary luck only seemed to amplify. Job interviews turned into job offers within minutes, as if the universe conspired to ensure your success in every endeavor. Colleagues joked that working with you was like having a lucky charm around, as projects that seemed doomed to fail miraculously turned into resounding triumphs whenever you were involved. It might seem great and all BUT DAMN WAS THIS LIFE SO FUCKING BORING!!!! Which is why you decided to spice up your day a little and rob a bank.

“Oh hello [Reader]! Is this going to be the usual procedure?�� The bank teller asks you with a smile on their face as you hold a gun to their face. “You know… the weather is perfectly nice today. It would be a perfect day for a date don’t you think–”

Suddenly a thunderous crash was heard, the police burst through the bank doors, their badges glinting under the harsh fluorescent lights. Guns drawn and voices booming commands, they swept into the lobby, faces masked with determination. Until the police chief sees you and lets out a tired sigh, “Guns down everyone, it’s just [Reader].” A faint sound of disappointed groans can be heard from the crowd of bank patrons from the back. “Why are the police here so soon, I didn’t get enough time to admire their pretty face.” another voice could be heard, “For real, their never this fast in an actual emergency. I mean they only just shot and killed one person, it's really nothing to worry about like who cares–”

—

“You are free to go [Reader], again.” the police officer states as she releases you from your handcuffs. “Turns out the man that you shot ended up being a drug dealer. You really have a special talent for catching criminals don’t you. She states as she gazes at you with loving eyes. “You know I’m free after this shift, you think we can–”

Before she can finish her sentence you walk away with a dejected look on your face. You couldn’t believe how boring a day this turned out to be. Seriously, you wished that something exciting would happen in this town for once you think to yourself. Failing to notice a scene behind you. One that consisted of a bunch of monsters eating the souls of the innocent while on their knees for a statue that seemed to look like you. They all seem to be gripping onto something though– HEY, WAIT A MINUTE ARE THEY HOLDING YOUR UNDERWEAR!?!!?

[the-offside-rule]

Carlos Sainz Jr (Scuderia Ferrari) - Get A Grip

Requested: via wattpad

Prompt: Carlos was a huge red flag during their relationship and then when Y/n glows up after they breakup, he tries to get back with her but she was having none of it because she was seeing another driver on the grid (you can choose)

Warnings: Carlos getting eaten alive (not actually just...metaphorically) AND THID IS A GIVEN BUT THIS IS COMPLETELY FICTIONAL

Monaco 2022. Y/n sat with her boyfriend in a nightclub as his shiny P2 trophy stood proudly on the table, surrounded by bottles and glasses. Y/n smiled uncomfortably as her boyfriend laid his arm around her shoulders and charted happily with his engineers. Yn played with the rings on her fingers, catching the attention of her boyfriend. Well that wasn't true. The engineer he was talking to noticed it and told Carlos. That made it worst. "You okay?" Carlos asked. Y/n nodded. "Is this one of those tricks where you say you are but you aren't?" She nodded again. "Well, whats wrong then?" He asked harshly. "I don't want to be here." She told him. Carlos reached into his pocket and pulled out the card to their room. "I'll be up in an hour. Order yourself food or something." She held her card in her hand, staring at it blankly. "Carlos, I want you to come with me."

"I don't want to leave yet." Carlos replied. "But I came here, not wanting to go out." Y/n said. "I got a podium. Of course I'm going to go out." Carlos scoffed. "You got podiums last season and we stayed in and had dinner. Why can't we do that?" She asked desperately. "Because we're in Monaco-" She cut him off"You got a podium in Monaco last year too!"

"Y/n, get a grip." Y/n felt her heart shattering. "What?" She asked. "Well, Im your boyfriend. I don't know how I am meant to help you with this." Carlos took another swig of his glass and set it down. "You could try and reassure me maybe. Just a thought!" She stood up and left, hearing Carlos call after her, but stopping after a single try.

"I don't know what to do Lily." Y/n sobbed in the bathroom. "I would dump him." Lily said, moving a piece of Y/n's behind her hair. "I- I can't see myself without him." Y/n sniffled. "Look, I couldn't see myself without Alex, sweetie, but if he spoke to me that way I'd find a way to be without him." It seemed so easy for Lily. Y/n physically couldn't think of a life where Carlos wasn't around. "I can't." Lily gave her fellow wag a sympathetic smile and hugged her. "Come on. Let's go. We don't want people seeing you like this."

Y/n and Lily walked through the dancing crowd, making their way to the VIP area where all the drivers stayed. As the security opened the red rope for the ladies to walk through,their eyes set on "What we're you doing with that girl?" Y/n asked, looking at Carlos with eyes full of rage. "She wanted a photo and we got a photo." Carlos said. "You kissed her on the cheek." Carlos groaned. "Wow, a kiss on the cheek. This is what I mean, you always-" She didn't like after that. It was seeing Carlos finally doing what everyone was telling her he does. "I'm done." She mumbled. "What?" Carlos asked. "I- I'm done." Carlos' face dropped. "Y/n-" She turned and walked away, leaving that life behind her. She would never let another man treat her the way he did again.

After the break up was announced, a lot of news came out about Carlos. A lot from girls he supposedly slept with at races Y/n didn't attend. How they all allegedly were invited to races Y/n wouldn't be at, and even some that Y/n was at. Regardless of if she was there or not, he cheated. God knows what would have happened if Y/n hadn't left the bathroom I Monaco. Maybe he would have gone further with that "fan". All she could do right now, was simply move on and build a life without him. And that was exactly what she did.

The 2023 summer break had finished and Carlos had partied more or less every weekend, racking up a body count but not wanting any of the girls to stay. He miled for photos and signed things for fans as he entered the paddock. As he walked on, past the flash mob and fans, another driver caught his attention. He heard the cameras flashing and turned to see Max walking in with a girl. It wasnt the girlfriend he had back at testing, she was different and he could tell by the colour of the hair. He pulled a face but continued walking to the Ferrari hospitality. He watched through the tinted windows to get a closer look. "Who are we stalking?" Charles asked, standing beside his teammate. "Max has a new girlfriend." Carlos muttered. "You're sure it's not the same as testing?" Charles asked. "No, the hair is different. So is the style." Carlos replied. "Hair dye, hired a stylist." Charles chuckled. "No, believe me. She's different! Look!" Carlos and Charles' gaze fell onto the girl holding hands with Max as the both laughed with eachother. Charles looked over to Carlos, waiting to see the moment realisation would settle in. "Is that-" He paused. Y/n.

"Well...she's a different girl." She was. Not only was she not the girl Max brought to testing, but she was barely even the girl Carlos had once dated. She changed immensely. She went back to her natural hair colour, instead of having it dyed and she changed her style. Her whole aura was different. "She is. Do you think Max has something to do with it?" He asked. "Or maybe your breakup." Carlos turned to Charles. "I'll go." Charles mumbled.

As the weeks passed, Carlos got sick of seeing Max winning, because it meant he'd see Y/n kissing him before he went to the podium each and every time, each time met with Carlos rolling his eyes.

In Qatar, Carlos didn't start and so he sat watching the race instead. As he walked through the paddock club, he spotted Y/n sipping a drink at a table with Jos. He didn't know what was happening, but he found himself walking over towards the table and before he could stop himself, he found himself shaking hands with Jos and having small talk as Y/n simply looked at him, Carlos looking back. "I need to go to the garage now, Carlos but it was nice catching up." Jos smiled as he turned to Y/n. "I'll see you there." Jos said to Y/n as she nodded. Jos left, leaving Carlos and Y/n to fill awkward silence. As Carlos stood there, watching the formation lap, he decided to speak.

"You know drivers move quickly." Carlos said to her. He face palmed himself in his mind. Why would he say that?! "Like how quickly you moved on from me?" Carlos clenched his jaw. Even when they weren't together, she drove him crazy. "You'd think you would have learned from the first driver." Y/n nodded. "The driver that has more bodies to his name than podiums? Yes. Of course." She rolled her eyes and went to walk away, but Carlos took hold of her hand. "Stop being like this. You were nothing like this with me, ever." Carlos said sternly. Y/b pulled her hand from his grip. "That was before you cheated. I've changed and you only think you have." He grabbed her again. This time when she looked back to him, the white in his eyes had turned as tears threatened to fall. "Carlos? Whats-"

"I- I can't find your face in these girls I try to be with. I need you. I miss you." Y/n swallowed the lump in her throat as she was faced with Carlos, crying. It was the first time she'd ever seen him crying but she knew exactly what she had to do. "Carlos-" Y/n began, regrettfully caressing his face, a soft smile on her lips. A spark of hope lit up in Carlos' heart. "Get a grip." She whispered, before turning and walking back to the Red Bull garage to watch her boyfriend go onto win his third World championship.

And Carlos watched in envy as Y/n kissed Maxs helmet, just as she once did to his. Get a grip. It was his yurn turn get a grip.

[mellowwillowy]

TW: Physical and Mental Abuse, mentioned killing animals.

Yandere who is always there for you, whether you are at your highest or your lowest, he is always there to support you.

Yandere who has always been a gentleman, never doing anything that brings discomfort to you. He courts you religiously and never goes overbroad in his way, managing to worm himself into your heart.

Yandere who is so happy the moment you agree to bind yourself with him for eternity, his gloved hand slides the wedding ring onto your finger.

Yandere who treats you as usual until you start to see through his facade of a gentleman. Beyond the respected man of a Judge is a man of an inferiority complex.

And that you have always been nothing but a trophy to sate his ego. Someone who can stand on the high road but never at the same height as he does.

Yandere who one day found you snooping his diary, eyes tinted in anger, you lost your consciousness the moment one of his many thick books hit the back of your head unknowingly.

Yandere who enjoys seeing you so dependent on them, unable to even cut your own meal without breaking a sweat and a hiss.

Yandere who loves seeing blood drip out of your patched fingers, fingernails ripped by him out of love.

Yandere who treats you more as a doll and far from a spouse with each day passing.

Marlon had always enjoyed dressing you up in countless coutures. It was subtle at first but the moment you realized how ugly the root of his facade was, he no longer bothered to force you to wear what you might not like.

Contrary to his gloved hands, yours were miserable. You couldn't have a day in which your bandages wouldn't be seeping red.

Why did you even bother reading through his diary? Should you have feigned ignorance and led a peaceful life with the gentleman your husband was, you wouldn't have to bear the shame he would make you shoulder as he helped you bathe.

Oh, where had the man you once loved gone to? The man who was always there when you were at your lowest, blissfully unaware of the fact that he was the cause of your downfall, and the man who slowly guided you up into a modified throne for you.

Oh, what had happened to all those times? Ignorance is truly bliss and you regretted how your eyes and heart pried way too deep into him.

Your husband had always been referred to as a once-in-a-millennium prodigy yet his diary stated otherwise, filled with scribblings of how he still lacks a lot in comparison to someone.

You picked up on his facade from the time you started to live with him under the same roof. The way he would rub circles on his gloved fingers when he was troubled to the way he had tendencies to kill doves whenever he failed in doing something.

Would he kill you like the dead doves he had buried in the garden?

You couldn't help but bury yourself with countless thoughts of how he would dispose of you for being able to see through his secret.

But the day you would end up buried six feet underground never came.

You were alive but never unscratched. A high-collared garment that hid the bruises around your neck, ankles that were sore from the rope that dug into the skin every time you walked any faster, and gloved hands that tried their best to use the dining utensils properly while maintaining your expression, trying not to wring it with pain and tears.

Alas, you mistook his way of loving someone as a way of torturing someone until one of his many 'siblings' visited. Marlon was away when one of them walked up to you, the woman shared almost a complete resemblance to him.

"I heard that Marlon really cherishes you as his spouse and it seems to be true." Despite how stoic her face was, with no hatred nor mockery in her tone and words, her words left you thinking. You eyed the family crest that was embroidered on her shirt collar, XL.

Just how exactly does his 'family' love someone to the point even his 'Sister' acknowledge this as something normal? Perhaps you were the one who never tried to understand it?

--

Bonus: WIP Comic

[genericpuff]

Hello, brazilian anon here! So I have been following criticisms of LO for a while now, and Psyche and Eros caught my attention in special, because their relationship is legit a racist trope commonly applied to indigenous people: Woman of color is put in a arranged marriage or pressured into marrying a guy from her village/tribe but "falls in love" with a white dude who "saves" her from her abusive and "uncivilized" family. Think of Disney's Pocahontas. This trope is commonly used to dehumanize non-european/anglo-saxon cultures and portray them as barbaric, and is rooted in colonialism and its direct heir, imperialism, as a means for colonizers to justify and sugarcoat raping and forcing women of color to marry them. So not a good look for Rachel.

OH YEAH IT IS

(you just opened Pandora's Box by mentioning Pocahontas around me LMAO)

It's even more egregious when you consider how Rachel changed the original myth from Psyche undergoing trials on her own to her ... being turned into a nymph servant for Aphrodite. Like huh. Is that really your final draft, Rachel? Have you thought this through?

I made a very spicy post about this like a year and a half ago and honestly I think it's still worth talking about because it's incredibly telling that Psyche had her entire story uprooted and replaced with a version where she's transformed into a non-POC character to disguise herself as a servant to a woman who's already racist towards nymphs. It's got that issue of "take the black character and transform them into an animal/other being that isn't black so that we don't have to have a black character onscreen for more than 10 minutes."

And yeah, you can tell how much Rachel is absentmindedly taking from Disney without challenging what those stories were portraying or asking deeper questions to get to the heart of their messaging. Pocahontas is rightfully panned for being a very white-washed version of a story that was written in the blood shed by Native Americans at the hands of colonizers. "Pocahontas" herself, even, was not some independent native woman who fell in love with the "one good white guy" on the boat, she was a teenage girl, whose life was spared but made worse when she was forced to travel overseas to be used as a prop to justify their continued actions in murdering and colonizing the "savages" overseas; she was then forced into marriage and had to carry the children of her captors, all while being treated as an exotic spectacle by the people around her who would undoubtedly kill her at the first sign of disobedience.

Her name was Matoaka. Her life and story is not something that should be romanticized. It's a tragedy and much of what instigated it is still alive and well today. She only lived to be 21.

I don't know if Rachel intentionally referenced or ripped off Pocahontas in Lore Olympus the same way she clearly has with Hercules and Beauty and the Beast. But it's incredibly telling in how she treats the racial divide between nymphs and gods and how she's twisted the Eros x Psyche myth into what it is that even if she did watch Pocahontas, she probably never realized how problematic it is at its core in the way that it's told.

In the original myth, Psyche is a woman who's meant to represent the fickleness of vanity - the loneliness it can make one feel to be admired and not truly loved, and the destruction that can be brought about in jealousy - and her pursuit in finding genuine love in Eros, a journey she travels alone, thematically with the rest of the story.

In Lore Olympus, she's an illiterate woman of color whose only purpose is to be Eros' wife, robbed of all agency so that she can be a trophy for him to earn, a test for him to pass. It's boring and really icky when you really peel back the layers of it with Psyche's character design in mind. Even when she finally does get more agency in her task to bring down Apollo - or at the very least, keep an eye on him - it's still at the behest of Zeus who gives her immortality not as a reward for overcoming the trials she set out to pass, but so she can be his errand boy. So once again she's not capable of doing anything motivated by her own best interests (especially when she already knows how dangerous Apollo is, why is she the one who has to follow this guy around?)

So yeah, no, not a good look at all LMAO

[hanafubukki]

Hello I'm here to deliver angst :3

Imagine an alternate universe where Yuu is king Henrik's kid

They've been secretly dating knight of dawn for a while and even fantasized about eloping

When the war starts they get locked away in a tower like a prisoner for their safety, only knight of dawn and Henrik were allowed to enter

When the humans lose the war Henrik accepts defeat and offers his child as a war trophy to the general in exchange for being kept alive in prison

Yuu and knight of dawn are devastated by this but Yuu goes through with it for the sake of making the lives of the people that used to be part of their now conquered kingdom

Time passes by and Lilia is now in a poly relationship with knight and Yuu. Yuu had given birth to silver not too long ago

Yuu was collecting some berries while their husbands were home with silver. Just before they enter their cottage a group of Henrik loyalists attack them

Lilia and Dawn try to get to them but just before they could Yuu gets hit with a spell that transports them to the future

Cue the plot of twisted wonderland

Lilia and Dawn deeply cherish silver as he's the only remaining part of Yuu they have. They tried Searching, interrogating but no matter what they did no one uttered a peep about what spell Yuu was hit with and no amount of tracking spells could find them

Malleus was the first person to recognise Yuu as they were a parent he loved but wasn't allowed to be with publicly due to the senate push back

Hello Anonie 🌷🌺🌸

You know Anonie when I received this ask, I laughed because I was like “I won’t make Malleus and Lilia angst to cope I won’t make angst to cope.”

And then I received this ask as if it’s a sign and just ended up laughing. 😂

OT3 angst it is, except I’m feeling a bit rebellious and I want a happy ending so I’m going to give it to them to the best I can. 😌👏🙏

But also imagine being Henrik’s kid? Silver had a breakdown? Imagine your father being the one to cause so much grief and death? Yikes. 😮‍💨

Your father just gives you up for his own head argh. You can’t do anything because you’re royalty and you don’t want your people to suffer.

You willingly go to the fae side as a royal captive, leaving behind you lover and your people.

You expected to be treated terribly, but you’re not? You still get fae that looks down on you of course. But the fae royal treat you cordially enough. You even get your own guard, a well known one in fact, General Vanrouge.

He’s a surly one and one that makes sure to keep an eye on you for any suspicious actives…but he doesn’t treat you bad.

In fact, he’s rather nice to you in his own way. It’s kind of charming. Similar and yet different than your Knight of Dawn.

Eventually a sort of tie is formed between humans and fae per Levan’s and your cooperation.

And you suddenly find yourself…in a relationship with both Dawn and Lilia. Meleanor finds it hilarious and this is used as a way to ease relations between races. Let’s call it an arranged marriage of sorts 😂

You (royalty), Dawn (well known Knight), and Lilia (the General) would make for a great image of peace, wouldn’t you say?

You’re enjoying life. A beautiful baby, wonderful husbands, and funny in laws and their cute dragon kid.

Everything was fine, until it wasn’t.

You get attacked by loyalists. They asked you to be the figure head of the rebellion group and cut ties with the fae. Of course you didn’t, in the end you got hit with a mysterious spell.

You disappeared right in front of Dawn and Lilia’s eyes. No matter what they did, they couldn’t find you.

And this is where I’m going to twist your scenario Anonie. A plan is made. This is yet to be a world of peace. It will take awhile. So Dawn, Silver, and Malleus is put to sleep. Until peace is brought. So history won’t repeat itself as it did with you.

Lilia is awake, he’s takes the mantle of helping relations between countries with Levan. An ambassador of you will.

The first one to wake is Malleus like in canon.

Then you have Silver.

A couple years after, it’s Dawn.

Years pass, and most of them end up at NRC. Dawn is a sword instructor at RSA but also part of NRC as well. Easier way to spend time with family this way.

Then comes the day of Grim’s mayhem but the difference? Diasomnia was evacuated from the mirror chamber. They had to make sure Malleus and co were protected. They weren’t going to make the same mistakes.

So how do you meet Malleus and the others?

Well of course like in canon, Malleus realizes someone now lives at Ramshackle dorm.

You noticed glowing lights and they look and feel familiar. You run outside and is shocked to see Meleanor…no, it’s not her but Malleus. He’s all grown up.

Malleus recognized you right away. You both have an emotional reunion.

You were reunited with one of your boys again. 🥹💞

Soon after, another emotional reunion takes place with the rest.

———

Extra:

*Some time in the future*

You’re reading a history book for Trein’s class but half of what’s written…didn’t happen that way?

“This didn’t happen.”

Lilia, nonchalantly, “Don’t mind it. We had to change some things on how the war took place and ended.”

You couldn’t be happier, “Good, I hope that asshole of a father of mine died in misery and shame.”

———

[rewrittenwrongs]

It’s the first of October in my timezone, which means it’s time to post my first Whumptober fill! I chose the prompt Panic Attack.

Heavily inspired by the lovely @brucewaynehater101’s Wingless Wing AU

Read on Ao3 (registered users only) | Whumptober masterpost | part 1 | part 2 coming soon

TW: past wing removal, mentions of anti-hybrid sentiments, mentions of trafficking/selling body parts, panic attack, accidental self harm (biting lip until it bleeds to ground himself), and a very very non detailed instance of vomiting

Dragons were the rarest hybrids out there.

They were some of the most well known, too. Everyone’s heard of dragon hybrids. They’re like the role models of the hybrid world, the knights and princesses children look up to, or the monsters under your bed if you’re not a hybrid. Usually, they’re treated much the same as true dragons: fictional. Mythical. Imaginary.

Now, if you were especially interested in them, or studied genetics or hybrid physiology, you’d know they were real. You’d know they often had huge wingspans comparable to the largest of seabird hybrids, and airborne agility almost on par with hummingbirds. You’d know they were rumoured to command the wind itself when they flew. You’d know their scales were tough and beautiful and practically immune to fire. You’d know lead was one of the only things capable of burning them while they lived. You’d know full blooded dragon hybrids could have long, magnificent tails and dramatic horns, claws instead of fingers or toes, slitted pupils that could see in the dark and scales tougher than wood.

You’d also know that, while they did exist once, they were hunted for their wings and scales and horns. They haven’t been officially pronounced extinct but neither has any other long-gone hybrid species. Anyone with passing knowledge of them knew they weren’t around anymore, outside the odd museum exhibit or old photo. Any rumour of still living dragon hybrids today was just that: a rumour. Though, the general populace—just the hybrids, really—loved to spread stories of them going into hiding. Using magic to cloak themselves until the day they could walk safely among humans.

Jason knows a lot about dragon hybrids. Much more than your average hybrid, and probably more than even a hybrid physiologist. He had a hyperfixation on them for a time, even before that pair of dragon wings started being passed around Gotham’s underworld.

He knows all the myths and folklore about dragon hybrids being born with an affinity for magic, about them using their skills to hide themselves from poachers and traffickers, building enchanted necklaces or broaches that disguised them as regular humans. He’s heard the legends of them being born of fire itself, being immune to temperatures that would render metal liquid, even being able to summon or control it. About burning their dead ones to return them to the ashes and embers they were once created from, as heat only blackened their scales after death. He’s heard the tales of dragons being kidnapped as children for their wings, because of a very special property of theirs: even after their wings were cut off they stayed magically connected to the hybrid, and grew along with them. It was much easier to kidnap and mutilate children than it was adults, and then they could use the hybrids as slaves, since they had to stay alive anyway for the wings to grow.

A lot of the myths—folklore, children’s tales, nursery rhymes—were about a dragon losing their wings and getting them back. A common theme among legends was the tie between wings and hybrid: a tie that, if the wings weren’t skinned or carved away for trophies, allowed the hybrid to reconnect them.

Jason tried not to get his hopes up, but he had to admit, once he finally tracked down those wings the other crime lords kept playing hot potato with… it would be nice if he could track down their owner and return them. Even if all there was to be done was bury or burn the things and give the hybrid a proper funeral.

Now, with the childhood hyperfixation and the elusive pair of trafficked wings that have been evading him for as long as he’s been Red Hood, he has a lot of respect for dragon hybrids. Combine that with all the hybrid trafficking rings he’s taken down, both as Red Hood and as Robin, you can see why he’s pissed about Tim’s new gliders.

Ever since Damian became Robin, since Tim swapped suits and changed title, he’d altered his glider to look like dragon wings. Dragon. Wings.

Now, it’s been almost five months since Tim came back and handed over all the info about Bruce’s whereabouts and proved he was alive, about four since they actually got Bruce back. There’s still some tension between everyone, but things have settled down a lot. But. Quite a bit of the tension could be blamed on those damn. Gliders.

Jason was actually glad when he saw them get set on fire a few nights ago; huge holes burning into the material and making Tim abandon it before the engine caught fire too. He tried a little to convince Tim to swap back to a design more feather-like but he was adamant. Jason could understand wanting to imitate the others, it must be tough being one of the only non-hybrids in the family, but WHY did he have to imitate dragon hybrids of all things? Because they’re cool? It’s insensitive and in bad taste!

That said, Jason had been biting his tongue about the issue. But tonight, when he swung by the cave, he came across Tim in the workshop, tinkering around and probably trying to improve his newest glider model. It’s the first time Jason’s seen the prototype. He can’t keep quiet anymore.

“You’re seriously sticking with dragon wings?”

Tim didn’t look up, didn’t turn to face him. “Yes. I’ve told you, I’m not changing my mind.”

Right. Jason’s definition of ‘biting his tongue’ was a little different than most’s. “You do know they’re real hybrids, right?”

“Yes, you’ve infodumped to me about them before.” He kept serenely fitting the scale-patterned material in place, connecting panels and hiding wire mesh and metal supports. “It’s no more cultural appropriation than my previous gliders were.”

Jason bristled. Tim has had some form of glider since he first debuted as Robin, and they were all styled after bird wings, designed to look like feathers. Like the Robins before him. Not the most feared, segregated, hunted, and literally extinct hybrid species in existence!

Jason had to take several deep breaths to stop himself from shooting the things then and there. Tim had already put together most of the emergency engine, the jetpack or ‘batpack’ as it was jokingly called: shooting it would just cause a huge explosion and an even huger mess. Not to mention Tim was in the way, he didn’t want to resort to physical injury just yet. “Clearly you weren’t listening when I told you about how often they were trafficked and poached for their wings.”

Tim huffed, still refusing to even turn his head. “I heard you. I just don’t see a problem with this.”

“So you don’t have a problem with the severed pair of dragon wing currently being traded through Gotham’s underworld?”

Tim froze.

There’s the reaction he’s been looking for. A bit of Jason’s vindictive glee seeped into his voice. “You didn’t know? There have been rumours about them since I was putting heads in duffel bags. Even the Joker knows about them. The hybrid is almost certainly dead by now. And still, their wings are being toted from warehouse to warehouse, crate to crate, one hand to someone else’s. It’s only a matter of time before someone keeps them for good and turns them into a pair of cloaks and an interesting taxidermy.”

“What do they look like?”

Jason blinked. Then his rage swelled so fiercely he could barely see or breathe. He wanted to know what they looked like!? WHY!? So he could take notes? Make his glider more realistic? WHAT THE FUCK.

Jason very nearly exploded about it, but then he caught sight of something that made him pause for a split second: Tim’s hands, curled into fists against his work, shaking slightly. Then as he paused he caught sight of something else: the slope of his shoulders, hunched, defensive, quivering. He was leaning forward like his knees would collapse any second.

Jason hesitated. Well, maybe... maybe if he answered he would learn why Tim reacted like that, or at least learn enough to infer. If it was so he could make his glider more realistic he could just shoot him.

He’s only seen them once, for a few seconds, but they were beautiful—and heartbreaking—enough he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forget them. “They’re red. Crimson. Big, but built like they’re kind of small. Curved, streamline, built for speed and agility. They’re almost iridescent, the right lighting makes them shine gold.”

Tim shuddered, violently, then collapsed, vomiting onto the stone floor.

“Woah—Tim—“ Jason darted forward, dropping into a kneel beside Tim with a flair of his wings. He reached for his shoulders automatically but Tim jerked away like he’d stabbed him, letting out a choked exclamation. Jason pulled back and let his wings settle over him instead, shielding but not touching. “Tim?”

He hesitated as Tim scrambled to his feet, shoulders hunched and arms jerky like his back was on fire. His breathing was loud and uneven and there was a tear on his cheek. His eyes were red and wild, darting around like he was searching desperately for an escape, like he didn’t know where he was. Jason got back up on his knees in preparation for following. He kept a wing hovering over Tim’s back. “Tim? What—“

Tim stumbled into an uneven run, arms more jerking than swinging, footfalls uneven like he was accounting for weight that wasn’t there. Jason hoped he was putting things together wrong.

Jason followed a few steps behind as Tim ran for the exit, and caught him when he stumbled and collapsed in the doorway. He was muttering over and over, “Please don’t please stop please stop stop stop,” between horrible, gut deep sobs. He fought against Jason for a moment but stopped quickly, leaning as far away as he could get, but not putting up a physical fight. He was hyperventilating.

Jason kept his hold secure, thinking back to the last—and until now, only—time he’d seen Tim having a panic attack: the sight of his hands in his hair and on his shoulders and blood running through his fingers and down his chin. Right now his arms were mostly pinned at his sides, hands struggling to curl around Jason’s arms, still protected by his jacket and armour. Jason kept his grip away from his shoulders and upper back in case his hunch was right. He curled one wing around Tim’s front, gently, just enough to brush against his face and legs. “Hey, hey hey, it’s okay, no one’s hurting you.”

Tim whined and tossed his head, fingers scrabbling against Jason’s forearms. Tears dripped from his chin. Blood was beading on his lip.

Jason bit off a swear. He’d forgotten he was still wearing his mask, the voice modulator always bothered Tim when he was already on edge. He adjusted his grip so he had one arm around Tim’s waist, still pinning an arm, and one wing caving him in, and used his spare hand to remove his metal mask.

Tim’s struggle renewed when he sensed apparent weakness, shoving and kicking, but he was off balance and uncoordinated and all he achieved was making Jason’s wing curl tighter around him. The sensation seemed to throw him off. Confusion bled into the features that weren’t twisted with pain and fear.

“Tim, can you try to breathe for me?” Jason said. He placed his mask on the ground and used his other wing to slide it away quietly.

Tim sobbed, chest heaving, shoulders quivering. “Stop. It hurts.”

Jason’s heart ached. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Tim’s entire frame jerked with the force of his next sob. Tears splashed to the ground like little shards of shattering glass. They were joined by a droplet of blood.

Jason made a cooing noise low in his throat, humming in a way that never came quite as naturally as it did before his death. He tried to imitate Dick’s comforting calls. Tim pressed his face into the feathers of Jason’s wing, hands like iron bands around his arm.

Jason repeated the noise, tentatively reaching out and stroking a hand through his hair. It got longer while he was searching for Bruce, and he hasn’t cut it yet.

Tim stayed tense as a taut wire, but didn’t curl into or away from the feeling. Jason couldn’t tell if his breathing was getting faster or slower. “It hurts,” he sobbed, “it hurts it hurts it hurts make it stop, please make it stop.”

Jason scrambled for what to do. He kept stroking through Tim’s hair. Maybe—his mother used to…

Jason cleared his throat and quietly began to sing.

His voice has never been quite as smooth and full as it was before his death. It’s not rough or unpleasant, necessarily, but he became unnervingly aware of the difference as he began singing the same song Catherine sang when he was too scared to sleep. There was a faint shakiness, a fragility that caused pain if he tried to yell, not to mention he couldn’t hit half the notes. He kept it quiet, low, a poor rendition of a dead woman’s lullaby.

Tim kept muttering, kept begging and sobbing, but the faintest hints of awareness were gradually starting to fill his eyes.

His arms squeezed Jason’s forearm around his middle.

His feet shifted against the ground like he was searching for purchase.

He pressed his head, lightly, into Jason’s feathers with a whine.

A shudder wracked through him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” His voice was slurred and uneven.

Finally, he stopped speaking to a threat that wasn’t there.

With another violent shiver, he began looking around a little. Staring at the wrist of Jason’s wing. At the arm pinning him in place, then at the body he was half slumped onto.

Tim whined loudly, longingly, so eerily similar to calls for safety-protection-flock that it made Jason’s hindbrain go crazy. Tim began shifting against his brother’s hold, in a different way than before. Jason kept an arm and wing around him but let him move, a little wary. Tim twisted around until he and Jason were front to front, at which point he collapsed onto him with a low mournful sound, head beneath his chin and arms curling loosely around him.

Jason wrapped both arms tighter around him, keeping them on his lower back, and shifted them both until Jason was lying on his back with Tim half on top of him, tented beneath his wings. He kept singing the entire time, now on his third rendition of the lullaby. Tim had stopped mumbling. He hadn’t stopped shaking or crying. His breaths were better but still shaky and erratic.

Jason continued carding through his hair. He seemed to like that. And the singing, Jason kept that up too, even though his throat was beginning to tickle.

After a few minutes he noticed the tears had stopped and his breath had evened out. Tim was asleep. Jason didn’t blame him, panic attacks were exhausting. He carried him through the elevator and up the stairs to his room, set Tim in his bed and himself in a beanbag, despite all his instincts screaming about flock and physical contact and protection and perceived abandonment. He distracted himself with Tim’s copy of The Little Prince. In the original French, nice.

Tim awoke seventy minutes later. Not that Jason was counting. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, sporting an impressive bedhead. He licked his lips. His eyes landed on Jason and shifted rapidly from confusion to understanding to fear. He curled the blanket into his fist.

“You have some explaining to do.”

Tim huffed as if he thought this really was all blown out of proportion. As if. “Not here. My Nest.”

Ah, the Nest, Tim’s seperate base of operations and regular hang-out spot for Young Justice, not to be confused with the nest, an elevated platform of ropes and mattresses and blankets inside the Batcave. Not confusing at all.

Jason actually felt proud for a split second upon realising he was welcome in Tim’s safe space, an honour none of the other bats held, before remembering no, actually, this wasn’t trust this was fear. Fear caused by him, however accidental.

“Let’s go, then.”

[oceanlipgloss]

ONLINE FRIENDS

LEVIATHAN.

+ warnings: angst, strong language.

+ my mc is the heroine, so the pronouns are feminine.

It is said that existing in the same world as someone you cherish is better than nothing at all. He had read that many times. Many times. More than he can count. Despite the different timezones, the great distances, the knowledge that the two of you live in the same galaxy—separated by tangible barriers just—is enough. But even then it’s hard. It’s so, so hard.

They the two them are like online friends. Overwhelmingly close, fun together, yet never truly knowing each other that well.

What if the only thing that kept them apart was not metrics, but who he himself was?

Too shy, too awkward. So clumsy, so useless.

Fickle.

Was he fickle?

Yeah, the heart can be a fickle little fucker, but was his heart like that too?

He’s always been told that he’s loyal to his passions, that he loves his interests so passionately. That had always been true, always been his conviction, until she came along and it began to feel wrong.

Sometimes—no, on most days—he couldn’t quite focus solely on her. The real, living, breathing woman with a beating heart. He bundled himself up in fiction. He wrapped his heart up with the virtual stuff and let the phantom medicines treat his deep-rooted anomalies, or at least waited for them to.  

He liked those worlds. In them, he could be worth something. He could be number one, yank all the great ranks. He could conquer the good things and be a celebrated one: a holder of grand specimens of accomplishments, an owner of the rarest of premium trophies.

In the planet beyond the intangible bars—with their pixellised models and complex codes—though, he was...no one. And sometimes, even his soul in that binary place was mangled by those who are better, even if they had not spent as much time—if at all, really—brandishing their skills like knives. Simply because they were born with talent that glowed in a surreal magnitude of magnetic stars in their cells.

He liked certain challenges, of course, but there are times when it gets...too much.

To him, it seemed that almost everyone else excelled at something, no matter how apparently useless, and there is always that one candidate or contestant that crushes all others with the golden weight of their shiny gifts.

Yeah.

He didn’t like himself.

What was there to like?

He couldn’t even love right, like his love for everything special in his measly life was a wheel of hot pizza that he had to cut up into pieces time and again. And when he bit into it, he always scalded his tied tongue.

More often than not, he loathed the real world. In it, millions of normal creatures normally go about their normal lives, while he remains a lot like the oldest model of the oldest Macintosh computer models: freezing, lagging, malfunctioning.

Mismatched.

He never had the right words, never mind the perfectly right skills.

At least characters have pre-programmed reactions. They do predictable things. Real people are nothing like that. Characters don’t hurt him. They just don’t. They’re not meant to, you know? It is not part of their program until it is—so even if and when they do, he knows it is only because they were coded to.

Yet, he’s expected to unlock the door, go out and deal with actual people, handle the scummy things they do like it’s nothing, then at the end of the day go back to his room. Everyday.

He hated these disgusting times.

When you’re like that—lost and unprepared for the basics of your century—even those closest to you can feel most unreachable, like distant friends online.

+notes: yes, hello, bonjour, I am regretfully indeed still alive. And in celebration of this fleeting but grand surprise visit of mine, I have prepared a Michelin-star humble feast, so why don't you help yourselves to the first piece I've written in over 2 months and eat this mouldy writing that has been aging in my WIPs for so very long? I invite you to indulge in a main course of braised angst, seasoned with an ounce of identity crisis projection. In all seriousness, though, the fic may have been an old WIP, but I literally just scooped it out of the pan finished it. It's still fresh. Very fresh. *logs back out*

+ MASTERLIST

+ AO3 POST

©𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨

[nat-1-whump]

❄️ Magical cold/comfort

Fantasy hurt/comfort ideas no. 6

Deep in the woods, Whumpee gets injured and passes out. Caretaker carries them as they stumble through the snow, desperately looking for anyone who can help. Eventually they find a lone cabin with someone who is very surprised to have visitors. Whumpee wakes up wrapped in a blanket in front of a warm fire, their injuries treated with some sweet-smelling home remedies. Their head rests in Caretaker's lap as Caretaker gently strokes their hair. Whumpee dozes off again, listening to Caretaker explain their situation to the odd stranger who has taken them in.

Whumpee accidentally covers themself in frost while trying to practice some cold-related spell. Caretaker steps outside to find Whumpee on the ground, practically frozen solid. Caretaker is quick to bring them inside and seat them near the fire, bundle them up in layers of blankets, and make them something warm to eat. When Whumpee takes the meal with shivering hands, Caretaker presses them on why they were trying to practice that by themself. Whumpee's face turns red as they admit they were worried they weren't strong enough to protect Caretaker from Whumper.

Huddling for warmth combined with nonhuman parts, like wings, tails, long pointy ears, etc. Nonhuman Caretaker uses their wings to wrap Whumpee up like a blanket, hugging them tight as they wait for the snow storm to pass. Caretaker tries to thaw Nonhuman Whumpee's long ears by rubbing them with their hands or putting socks over them. Nonhuman Whumpee and Nonhuman Caretaker twist their tails together, rub their wings together, etc to try to warm up. This can vary a lot depending on what species Whumpee and Caretaker are.

Whumpee with fire magic thinks they'll be just fine venturing into the cold, but as they use more and more magic they start to exhaust their power. By the time they get home, their power is depleted and they're freezing cold. Or maybe they don't even make it home, passing out outside where Caretaker finds them and brings them inside. They groggily wake up in front of the fireplace, leaning against Caretaker on the couch. As soon as they're lucid enough, Caretaker scolds them and makes them promise not to be so careless.

Caretaker with ice magic or cold resistance underestimates how dangerous the cold can be to Whumpee. While outside foraging for potion ingredients or doing some quest in the snow, Caretaker assumes Whumpee is right behind them. But when they turn around, Whumpee isn't there. Caretaker frantically goes back along the trail, and finds Whumpee collapsed on the ground, a layer of frost already forming over them. Whatever they were doing would have to wait. For now, they had to find some way to warm Whumpee up.

Whumper freezes Whumpee in an ice crystal as a decoration or trophy. They use magic to keep Whumpee alive and conscious, even as they're completely frozen solid. When Caretaker finally gets Whumpee out of Whumper's lair and breaks them out of the ice, they want nothing more than to get revenge on Whumper. Still, that will have to wait until Whumpee's doing better. For now, Caretaker settles for warming Whumpee up with cuddles by the fireplace, squeezing them tight and promising them that Whumper will never hurt them again.

Caretaker is just chilling (no pun intended) in their house when a portal opens up. Their rival Whumpee collapses through it. Caretaker just barely catches them before they fall face-first on the floor. Whumpee is badly injured, soaked to the bone and shivering uncontrollably. Caretaker is just a little bit tempted to throw their rival back into the portal and close it behind them. Still, they reluctantly decide to warm Whumpee up and wait to do that until after they've recovered somewhat. Caretaker really wants Whumpee to tell them what happened. After all, as much as they dislike Whumpee, not even they would put them in this condition.

Possibly a continuation of the last prompt, rivals Caretaker and Whumpee bickering as Caretaker tries to warm Whumpee up. As they try to get the ice off with fire or a blow-dryer, Caretaker calls Whumpee an idiot. Whumpee's face turns redder, and they snap at Caretaker to shut up and get them another blanket. Caretaker makes Whumpee some hot tea to help thaw them out, but Whumpee refuses to drink it because it's too hot. Both of them want to cuddle, but neither wants to be the one to suggest it.

[theheirofthesharingan]

Random question, but let's say that Itachi lived right? Like all the way to Boruto, do you think Itachi would probably be that one, almost, father figure to Sarada in a way? Considering since Sasuke has always been away from the two of them (Sakura and Sarada) if Itachi decided to stay in Konoha instead of traveling with Sasuke? Also I wonder how Itachi would react to Sasuke being with Sakura as well, I wonder, what do you think?

Interesting question.

To answer this, we need to consider some major factors that were crucial in shaping their lives.

If itachi lived, he should have the development he did during the war i.e. realizing treating Sasuke like a baby was a bad choice he made all along.

Sasuke doesn't know Itachi is alive. Why would he leave the village in the first place if Itachi was alive?

Itachi doesn't know where Sasuke is. Why else would Itachi stay in the village if he could be with his brother?

Konoha has somehow cleared his name and acknowledged its own crimes against the clan.

Still, I'm going to answer this question with the ideas that are independent of each other and don't need each other to exist (if that makes sense?)

I think Itachi would be a terrible father figure to Sarada. He didn't grow up to lead a normal life full of love and comfort. He was a Shinobi who was trained to kill. That's what he did all his life and he never had the time to be anything other than that. He loved Sasuke a lot, but his expression was thoroughly violent, although under extreme duress, and in a slightly easier life he'd have served better. He doesn't know how to be a normal person. He doesn't understand how to be something that's not a Shinobi and a killer. He was conditioned since his childhood to live a certain way and the change in the lifestyle would not change anything for him. I personally don't see him being able to guide Sarada or be a positive/healthy influence in her life. He can't give anything to her, or anyone, for that matter.

He's way, way too damaged as a person. Even if you include therapy sessions those won't erase his past and what he feels about himself. He can't offer anything in a bonding that isn't with Sasuke. He'd still feel some affection towards Sarada. He has no reason to not like her, but he can't be a parent figure to her. I mean, isn't that the whole reason Sasuke, too, isn't a 'good father' to Sarada? He too is damaged beyond repair.

Some anti-SS content under the cut. No slander or bashing of the characters, but my opinion on why Itachi might not approve of Sakura as his brother's life partner. I'll tag the post accordingly. Please don't read if you're a fan of the pairing.

He will not be overly thrilled about Sakura being in Sasuke's life. Sasuke didn't love Sakura and Sakura never loved Sasuke. She was obsessed with an image of his she found alluring and his absence in her life fed that longing further, making her feel she loved him. He was a trophy for her she was to win in the contest of her rivalry against Ino.

In other words, she had no genuine feelings for Sasuke.

Sasuke, too, never felt any affiliation towards her. Yes, there were some moments he cared about her deeply, but he's genuinely kind and caring towards people. If he loved her he'd be more open about his feelings.

When Itachi met Team 7 in the Kazekage Rescue Arc, he paid no attention to Sakura. His attention was solely on Naruto and was happy to see Naruto had grown so much from the last time they met. There was a reason he entrusted Sasuke with Naruto. And he wouldn't be too pleased to know that Sakura once tried to kill his brother for whom he bore the worst pains and sins in his heart.

That alone would infuriate him. However, it wouldn't matter to him if Sasuke really loved Sakura, because I don't think the Itachi that bid farewell to Sasuke in the war would claim any stakes on him. If Sasuke loved Sakura he would be okay with it, but not trust her. Itachi's brain works in different ways. xD

Itachi would also understand there's a reason his brother doesn't want to be with his family. And his lack of affection towards them would tell him everything. He decided things for Sasuke when he saw him as a child in the past, but won't make the same mistakes again.

I think he'd like Sarada, but won't be extremely fond of Sakura. Though I don't see him being good with kids at all.

[yanderes-galore]

YES YES YES I HAVE BEEN WAITING SO LONG FOR DARK SOULS (I didn't realize it was a last minute addition to that one period) 

Could you do general romantic HC's for Pontiff Sulyvahn? He's *such* an irredeemable bastard, and is genuinely the only souls character (Aside from Elden Ring's Mohg, but they're completely separate universes, and maybe an exception for Adrich) that's actually just pure evil. No gray morality or anything. If you don't mind, could you also do a small tidbit on how he'd treat a Crossbreed!Darling? Thanks again, I love your work so much

I tried my best to research and not call upon Dark Souls Anon for this so I hope I did good. Sorry it's short, I wasn't sure what to add :(

Yandere! Pontiff Sulyvahn with Crossbreed! Darling

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Imprisonment, Isolation, "Courting" (It's not), Ownership, Dehumanizing behavior, Forced relationship.

Based on what my research has told me, Sulyvahn would be nearly impossible to flee from.

Through charisma, sorcery, and exploitative behavior... Sulyvahn managed to conquer an entire holy city and more.

Once he did so, he created monstrosities through magic and made many of his loyal pets.

Not only that, but he created a magical barrier around Irithyll, one to prevent anyone from leaving or entering unless they were given a certain doll.

I imagine you'd be a crossbreed related to Gwyndolin and Yorshka.

One that has draconic features like other crossbreeds shown (I do believe this is what you meant?)

Sulyvahn would imprison you as his form of courting.

Based on who he is and what he's done in lore, you're yet another pet.

Except, you are no experiment or made a monster by a special ring.

Sulyvahn wants to keep you as you are, weak and at his mercy.

Sulyvahn loves power.

He has twin blades and ridiculously powerful spells at his disposal.

By the time you meet him, he doesn't speak much.

He doesn't have to... his presence exudes an intimidating amount of power.

You're no doubt kept with him at the cathedral, surrounded by holy images and readings... yet held hostage by such an unholy and tainted being.

Can you even call Sulyvahn a man?

He's far from it... He's a monster...

A monster who keeps you as a little pet, under the guise of courting you.

No, every touch he gives is far from loving.

You're a trophy of his conquest, especially as a crossbreed.

His touches are rough, yanking you against his chest when not busy ruling.

Like a doll in the hands of a reckless child.

The very few words he says come out as mocking, all taunts about your siblings.

How's it feel, draconic offspring?

How's it feel to know your brother is being devoured alive?

How's it feel to know your sister is being locked up all alone without you?

If anything, aren't you the luckiest of them?

You get to be with your new ruler.

Through marriage, you'll be his cute little pet.

The time of your family has ended.

It ended long ago.

Sulyvahn uses the fate of your family to taunt you into submission.

He enjoys seeing you shrink away.

You can't go anywhere and you know it.

You'd need the Pontiff's permission...

He'd never do that.

No, to Sulyvahn you belong beside him.

You're his to adore, his to coo at while he mocks you.

His cute little crossbreed to toy with.

Bringing a God to their knees, it's the ultimate power play to him.

You're adorable to him....

It's euphoric to see your fear when you see all the people that used to roam the city become monsters due to that dreaded false flame.

While everyone suffers, Sulyvahn insists on holding you close.

He claims as his spouse... his partner... he'll give you anything but freedom.

He has the power to demand.

Anything he wants, he gets.

He's already caused worse fates than just bloodshed.

If he wants to spoil you for your good behavior, he'll find a way.

Your life may not be the same as your siblings... but it's your own personal hell...

Especially since you're forced to play spouse to the monster who exploited this mess.

You're forced to be the imprisoned cross breed stuck in a cathedral...

Stuck as the pretty spouse for the Pontiff tyrant... the very same one who's holding your siblings captive to earn the obedience of you and the entire city.

[ghxulsnskxlls]

tell me.

a/n : i cannot stop thinking about this prompt/premise...grrr, had to create a new tumblr acc for it

tw : nsfw, mdni, dead doves do not eat, f!reader, afab, interrogation, dubious consent, dom!alejandro, porn WITH plot

prem : you had been alej's closest subordinate in los vaqueros, second only to rudy. more than a year ago, all alejandro remembered was that you disappeared from the base one day, and rudy gathered enough intel to prove that you had turned sides to work with valeria's cartel instead.

valeria's been dead for months now, and you were finally captured to be put through interrogation instead of getting thrown into the nearest maximum security prison. alejandro's determined to find out the real reason why you deserted the base and he'll stop at nothing to coax (*groans* *rolls eyes*) the answer out of you. 8.8k words for a single fic omg wtf

You always knew he was going to catch up to you sooner or later, so it had been foolish of you to start to feel a little safe, becoming lax in watching your back when it had only been eight months since you were on the run from Los Vaqueros, and Valeria now dead.

You had settled in your temporary refuge after spending two months being on the run, a charming house in a small village near the foot of the forest hills. Away from the bustling Las Almas, now flourishing even as it slowly rebuilt itself after El Sin Nombre's death, and Los Vaqueros picking off the men of the cartel one by one like they were trophy hunting.

You were washing your fruits in the sink when you heard your front door being opened. You turned around and froze in place to see that your unwelcomed guests were Alejandro and Rudy, your past commanding officers when you were still a Vaquera, before you deserted and joined Valeria's cartel.

They were holding their rifles, and your hands were empty, still wet from washing the papayas. They weren't raising their firearms however, and you knew it was their last bit of mercy for you.

"You either don't resist, or we shoot your Achille's heels and drag you by your hair. We advise you to choose the former option, niña." Alejandro warned heatedly.

You clenched your jaw, and proceeded to kneel on the floor with your hands behind your head.

••••••••

They treated you like how they treated Valeria. Shoved into a container unit with nothing but a chair and table under the dingy lights. You rested your hands on your thighs, and touching the fabric of your skirt made you realise how out of place you looked at the moment.

You wore a brown maxi skirt, and a simple white blouse with short sleeves, looking like any other civilian, sitting in the middle of an interrogation unit located at a military base, looking so out of place in a place where you had once considered your second home. You realised how wrong it was that you're being detained here and not thrown to the nearest maximum security jail. Hell, Alejandro had probably received a shoot on sight order on your head.

With you being held captive in this cell, you knew he was going behind the authorities' backs for this. They're not even aware he had retrieved you from your hideout, that you were still alive and breathing.

Unfortunately, you were also aware why exactly did he throw you into this interrogation cell in the first place. Frankly, you have no valuable intel to give to him anymore since Valeria's already dead, and her men dropping like flies because of Los Vaqueros hunting them down like it was trophy hunting season. Her cartel was grinded into dust—Alejandro threw you here to gather something more personal than that, and he wanted to hear the truth from your own mouth.

You didn't want to tell him anything. You were too ashamed of the truth.

The door being slammed shut broke you out of your thoughts, and you see Alejandro entering the room. Your heart thundered against the confines of your chest when he snapped his head in your direction, making you meet his glare.

He was furious, that was obvious, in the way the corners of his mouth was threatening to dip low and turn into a nasty snarl. You held his stare despite the fear pulling your guts into knots, because you knew him well, of who he was and how he acted.

"Thought you could escape us? You should've known better. Even Valeria died by my hands in the end." His voice boomed and echoed in the container unit.

"It still took you eight months to find me, Coronel." Your voice stayed even, defying him from the get go.

"Doesn't matter if it took eight months or eight fucking years—it would still end the same; with you detained in this unit, answering to me." He raised his voice slightly, a vein making itself known at the side of his head.

You didn't even flinch, your palms stayed flat on your thighs.

"You're going behind people's back keeping me detained here. You're supposed to hand me over—" You were cut off when he slammed his fists on the table, making you close your eyes at the sound.

"You have the gall to be talking about how I shouldn't be going behind people's backs? You, the person who went behind my back to desert this base and go work for a drug lord?" He roared, slamming one fist on the table by the end of his sentence.

You opened your mouth to retaliate, but since he knew all you were going to do was defy him and his every word, he didn't give you the opportunity to speak this time.

"And you don't have the right to tell me how to do my job. I don't want to hear it from a deserter like you."

Your eyes flickered to the surface of the table, clamped your mouth shut and clenched your jaw. Your fear was still there, but know what other emotion would accompany fear? Anger. Hearing Alejandro interrupt you to berate you was getting on your nerves, even though his points were valid and justified.

The Colonel made his way to your right side, passing by the table. He bent down, placing his hands on his knees as he searched your eyes. When you refused to meet his gaze, his hand went to your jaw, gripping on it with the warning that he wouldn't hesitate to dig his fingers into the flesh of your cheeks if you kept avoiding his eyes.

He let out a grunt when you met his eyes, finally, but didn't let go of your jaw.

"You know why you're here. You know what I want to know."

"Unfortunately for you, Colonel, I'd rather be thrown into a prison cell straight away than tell you." You bit out, and you held back a wince when his grip tightened.

"Do you think I give a fuck whether you'd be willing to tell me or not? You're not leaving this unit until you tell me what I want—"

"You're already going against orders having me detained here. Even Valeria was handed over to a prison."

"After she told me what I wanted to know."

"Because Valeria had relevant intel that your mission needed. You're holding me here for a personal grudge—"

"And I'm not denying that." He hissed, his gloved fingers sinking into the flesh of your cheeks.

He pulled on your face, until you could feel his breath fanning against your face.

"Do you honestly believe I would let you go just like that? After you betrayed me? After you betrayed Rudy and your brothers?"

You finally gathered the strength to place your hands on his shoulders and pushed him off of you. As Alejandro stumbled back, you soothed your jaw. You can still feel his fingers digging in your cheeks.

"You're going too far, colonel."

Alejandro quickly recovered and took hold of your collar, dragging you up and slamming your back against the metal walls of the container unit. A loud 'BANG' produced from it. Your hands went to his hand that was now gripping on your collar, panicking slightly that his knuckles were pressed against your throat to keep you pinned to the wall.

"Then tell me. What I want to know." His low voice a stark contrast compared to the resounding 'BANG' produced earlier.

"You can go fuck yourself." You gasped out, struggling to wheeze out a laugh just to infuriate him. Only then did you realise your toes were barely touching the floor.

He flared his nose and let go of your throat, watching as you sink down to your knees and holding on your throat as you choked on air, learning to breath properly again. In a spark of anger, just pure anger scratching through the thick oily surface of your fear, your eyes snapped up to look at him staring down at you. At his mercy, kneeling before him, cornered by him—

And then your anger was then accompanied by a feeling—a sensation, that you didn't wholeheartedly welcome into your mind and being.

He observed you, staring up at him with glossy eyes kneeling before him, your cheeks flushed due to the blood rushing back to your head since your airways weren't blocked anymore, the blouse you wore not that high cut enough; he could see your cleavage from above, your chest rapidly going up and down—

You exasperate him, truly.

"You are going. Too far." You struggled to talk. Even so, your hoarse voice uttering words of defiance at him in a self righteous attitude, deflecting from your own wrongdoings by calling out on his abuse of power made him lose his goddamn head. His rationality breaking through the glass window panes and out of it.

You infuriate him so much.

His hand slid down to grip on your arm and pulled you up to your feet, then it moved forth to grab on your shoulders and dragged you, pushing you and slamming your back against the cold surface of the table. He slotted himself between your legs, making it difficult for you to kick at him. It didn't help that his hand was on your throat again, giving it a warning squeeze, but you didn't care and your hands gripped on his wrist in an attempt to pry his fingers away.

You really hated just how big his build is now compared to yours, when in the past you used to fantasise about it all the time. How he would tower over you, and completely hide your body from other's view just by standing in front of you.

"What the fuck, Alejandro!" You snarled, and despite how useless it was, you still tried to kick him.

His cold fury turned into something more sinister at your words, and your heart skipped several beats when he let out a low laugh, and how it fanned against your face with how close he was to you.

"So you do remember my name. Thought you only remembered my ranking, kept calling me coronel since the beginning." He taunted, and it made you gulp.

You made it a point to avoid using his name. In the distant past, when you were still his second favourite subordinate, you had called him Alej. You only allowed yourself to call him 'Alej' and Sergeant Major Parra 'Rudy' when it was just you three nursing coffee at the pantry late at night. They would scold you together, talking about how unhealthy your sleeping habits were, and how the caffeine addiction didn't help. You were still young and budding, and you needed sufficient sleep.

You would roll your eyes and tell them to stop fussing over you like a child since you've always performed well regardless, and Rudy would huff at you that no man would approach you with the eyebags you'd have. Alej would bark out a laugh, telling Rudy your eyebags weren't the biggest issue regarding your appearance and appeal, and you'd hold yourself back from stomping on his foot under the table because he was still your CO—

You could feel gloved fingers digging into your cheeks, holding your jaw in a tight grip, and it snapped you out of the nostalgia that had momentarily hazed your mind for a second. You blinked, only to see Alejandro with his eyes narrowed on you.

"You have the gall to daydream at a time like this?" His voice rasped in bated fury, and you frowned, cursing at yourself for your slip-up.

You scolded yourself for treading into fond memories when it was probably meaningless by now. Alejandro hated you, and Rudy probably shared the sentiment too. Your heart ached in pain at the fact, but you tried to will it away. The memories, the heartaches—all of it didn't matter anymore.

You still deserted the base, you betrayed them anyway, and for someone who had already broken Alejandro's trust in the first place.

"What are you going to do if I refuse to tell you, Colonel?" You spoke evenly, a sudden sober attitude surfacing even with the current position he had placed you in—a little compromising, and breaking so many rules already just because of the fact he's standing between your legs.

However, Alejandro's anger didn't dissipate at the sudden change of your attitude, nor was he taken back by it—instead, he got angrier, for even suggesting that you were going to leave this cell without telling him what he wanted to know so desperately.

He pulled away from you, but he merely pulled his upper body away, he still stood between your legs. You cautiously sat up, letting your elbows prop you up against the table. You watched as he bit on the tip of gloves and took it off of his hands, leaving it bare, and then taking off the other one.

"Bold of you to assume I wouldn't use every interrogation method in the book to beat the answers out of you."

He rested his skin nude hands on your lower thighs, and it made you gasp in mortification.

You were shocked the first time he pinned you on the table and slotted himself between your legs to get a leverage against you fighting back, but you were finally reminded you had been wearing a maxi skirt when he did it. Because of him standing in between your legs as you were pinned on the table, your skirt had rode up your legs and up to your upper thighs.

Your legs were exposed, and his palm was warm against the sensitive skin of your thigh. When you snapped out of your shock, you tried to get off the table but he was quicker. He lowered his upper half on you again and placed an arm across your throat, pushing his face close to yours. You cried out at being encased against the table again.

"You've gone mad! This is wrong, and you know it. This is absolutely insane behaviour!" You hissed, hands going to his clothed shoulders that weren't covered with a bulletproof chest plate, sunk your nails in and dragged it down his shoulders.

You reminded him of a feral cat.

He let out a deep breath at your scratches, willing himself to withstand the sting. He was sure you managed to tear open his skin, probably shallow—but you probably made him bled regardless.

"Wrong? You wanna talk about wrongs? How about when you wronged me—when you deserted Los Vaqueros, when you went to work for a drug lord that painted your hometown's streets with blood." He sneered, sliding his palm higher up your thighs from under your skirt.

You let out an undignified cry when he did that, and it was bordering on a moan too—because, goddamn it, you always harboured an attraction for this man, but this wasn't the time. He raised your thigh and pressed his hips to yours. When you squirmed, he held your hips still with the hand whose arm was pressed against your throat earlier, letting you breathe properly again.

"I lost sleep wondering why—just why did you leave like that, why did you betray us? You left without a word!" He growled, and since it was Alejandro speaking, it really did sound like a growl.

Your hands went to his shoulders again, hissing at all of the stimulation you were feeling at the moment. His hips pressed against yours, his clothes rubbing against your inner thighs, one hand under your thigh, and the other holding your hip still under him.

"You crazy bastard, I thought you were a righteous soldier." Your hoarse voice bit out. One of your hands was tucked into a fist, slamming against his chest pathetically.

And the more sinister side of his anger appeared again at you calling him out on his power trip. He let out another low baritone laugh, and that surge of heart-stopping fear took grip of your being again just hearing it.

"I'm righteous to the people who deserve it—and you, niña? You're worse than Valeria herself, for betraying Los Vaqueros and Las Almas to go work for her. You deserve nothing good." His hand that was holding your hip still went to brush his finger pads on your cheeks, grinning at your expression.

That struck the fear of god in you, incredibly. You just clamped your mouth shut, but you continued to squirm and struggle beneath him. He grunted, annoyed at you pounding your fists against him, so he went to pin your wrists above your head. Because of that, all you could do was try your best to push his hips away, but you stopped when he let out a deep groan. You realised right away why he groaned, and your stomach fluttered and dropped to feel something growing against your hips, throbbing.

Fuck me, you cursed at yourself, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb—fucking dumbfuck. Of course his dick would get hard after being literally grinded on.

You let out a mortified gasp when he pushed his own hips against yours this time. In retaliation, you pressed your legs around his lower torso. Not to encourage him—but to encage him tightly enough so he couldn't move so easily...however, it backfired, though. He huffed out a breath of laughter when you did that, and smoothly maneuvered his hand so only one was required to keep wrists pinned above you, and the other slid down your body to grip on the flesh of your thigh that was currently encasing him tightly against you. The squeeze making you gasp again.

"Seems like you're asking for nothing good from me. Do you enjoy this? Being manhandled without care? I always knew you kinda had a crush on me, but this is just embarrassing. It's either a kink, or you just enjoy letting the men you're attracted to do whatever they please." He taunted from above you, and you feel your face heating up at the taunt.

"Stop it, you're being cruel." You wanted to slap yourself at how petulant you sounded, but his smirk dropped.

"You were cruel to me first. Your betrayal drove me insane, ripped my heart out—I'm like this because of you."

You stared back at him in anguish, in fury, and he could even see guilt slipping through your cracks. He was being sincere, but now he's taking notes of what's disarming you little by little. Because of how quickly the mood shifted, he ground his hips into yours more roughly this time. If you were whining at how cruel he was being, then he took it upon himself to live up to your expectations and show you just how cruel he can really be.

When you felt him grinding his covered hard-on against your thin panties so harshly, you faltered, dropping your face to the side. With your head turned to the side, exposing your neck to him, Alejandro couldn't hold back from dipping his face in to take a bite of your skin, sucking on the spot, nibbling on it. His dick throbbed along with the pulses he could feel against his tongue, could feel just how fast your heartbeats were.

You felt a little overwhelmed, a little overstimulated. Even in all that haze of pleasure you had been trying so hard to reject, you felt like crying. You weren't allowed his touches back then because he was your superior—but even now that you had long abandoned your post as his subordinate, this was still wrong because of your current dynamics; you, a criminal, and him, an authority figure.

Fuck, who knew something so wrong could feel so right?

So you surrender.

Your legs loosened around his waist to let him move more freely now, you let yourself go pliant under him. Alejandro, however, was a little taken back when he felt it. He let go of the spot he had been suckling on to pull his face away from your neck and study you, but your cheek was still pressed against the table, your eyes were screwed shut, and you were nibbling and biting down on your lower lip to not let any shameful sounds escape.

Based on his observations, his mind jumped into the wrong conclusion; you were trying to mentally detach yourself from the situation. You weren't facing him, not fighting back anymore—he thought of it as you dissociating. At that assumption, he felt his mind snap. You dare to run away from him again? It was as if his rationality was a bomb, and the bomb squad had cut off the wrong wire.

So it was set off, exploding, consuming everything.

He let go of your wrists to grip on your jaw, turning your face to him so he could pull you into a kiss. It was so rough and sudden, his lips were already pressing against yours, you let out a squeak. You squeaking against his lips was the leverage he needed to slip his tongue in, and just like that, the kiss turned into something more carnal and overbearing—like he was now trying to devour you whole. He ignored the way your nails sunk into his shoulders again—in fact, he welcomed it, he wanted you to leave your mark on him.

He could imagine your nails scratching down his naked back, with your ankles crossed behind him, and a thin sheen of sweat covering both of your bodies as he fucked into you mercilessly, the pace unrelenting and your choked voice begging him for mercy. His pants couldn't feel any tighter than now.

He grinded against you again, his clothed bulge was harsh against the thin fabric of your panties, and you sobbed into his mouth at the grinding. His hand that wasn't gripping on your jaw was gripping on your hips under your blouse, skin to skin, his fingers dipped under the hem of your skirt that was now pooled all around your waist, leaving the entirety of your legs exposed.

Your legs were around his waist once more, ankles crossing each other to make him slow down a little, encasing him tightly against you. He was content to feel your legs around him again. He released you from that filthy kiss once he could tell you were going lightheaded at the lack of oxygen, and pulled away to see your eyes blown out and glossy, lips swollen and parted slightly as you panted, your soft chest heaving up and down against his. You were a sight to behold.

Inside his mind, Alejandro made a snarky comment on how Rudy would've laid his life down to see this exact sight, it made him scoff—he could let Rudy and you go at each other some other time.

Right now, you were under his mercy.

His hand left your jaw to hold the back of your head, entangling with your hair that was now longer than he remembered, now two inches into reaching your mid back. Back then, you always kept it neatly cropped just right above your shoulders, and always kept it tied into a low ponytail around the base. Now when he looked at you, he couldn't see a soldier anymore, when that has always been his main deterrent from just ravaging you back then.

You wearing your uniform with the gloves on, your bulletproof chest armour around your upper torso, and small gloved hands holding an assault rifle—that was always what held him back from just bending you over his office desk and fuck into you. Because despite being your superior officer, you were equals on the battlefield—but now, with your untied hair longer than ever and forming a broken halo behind your head, the white blouse and the skirt, your body pinned on the table under him, he's fantasising about you being a nice little housewife in a house under his name.

Bent over the sink, skirt pushed up to your waist, grunts and moans filling the kitchen.

God, you were so fucking annoying—he could never get that fantasy out of his head now, and he would surely get a boner every time it would get replayed behind his eyes. He closed his fist with your hair entangled between his fingers, pulling at your scalp, it made you wince softly at the stinging pain. He almost cooed.

"Muñeca, if you tell me why you left, I'll be nicer. Do you still want to be stubborn and defy me more than you already did?" He plastered on a deceptively kind smile, the hand that was gripping on your waist was squeezing the ample flesh, like he was squeezing on a stress ball.

Your eyes were beginning to water since the longer you stayed silent, he would slowly pull on to your hair more and more until your head was tilted back. He searched your eyes, and he could see that yes, you were still going to be stubborn.

His smile dropped, eyes shifting to something animalistic, and now you couldn't find the Alejandro you could recognise anymore. Something grew at the base of your belly at the fear, when you could recognise his face but not who he was anymore.

"Coronel—"

"Then so be it. That was your first chance by the way, out of three."

Swiftly, he let go of your hair and ripped your blouse open. You let out a choked cry, tried to cover your chest with your own hands but as always, he was quicker, stronger—he went on to pin your wrists above your head again, with one hand only like before.

"I can't—I don't know who you are anymore." You whispered in a petrified manner, searching for a man you once knew so well in a distant past in his eyes.

But beloved Alej who was your strict but caring Colonel from back then was nowhere to be found. All that's left at the moment was an entity made of vengeance, carnal desires, and ice cold fury placed inside his husk. Black voids containing a violent snowstorm inside stared back at your teary eyes mockingly.

"What? Did you honestly think I would treat you like I used to?" He chuckled, his free hand gliding up your thighs from under your skirt, teasing the hem of your panties on your hip.

"You're nothing more than a traitor. You deserve to be treated like one, you deserve nothing good."

He glanced down at your bra—simple white thing, the only laces in sight were the ones stitched at the edges of your bra. It made you look innocent, reminding him of the age gap between you two. You were currently 25, and he was 38—oh, yes, that big age gap. It was what made him feel so disgusted with himself when he realised he was attracted to you back then. Made him feel lecherous.

Him always referring to you as niña just served as another reminder as to why he shouldn't drag you by your waist and kiss you senseless. All he would ever allow himself is to pat you on the head or shoulders, or ruffle your hair, or rest his elbow on the top of your head to tease you. The farthest he could go was patting your cheeks, and that was only one time, since you were crying over Rodriguez's death.

Now, you were acting like a brat after letting him down big time—he supposed a bout of disciplining could shape you back into line again.

He tore his eyes away from your chest to your face, staring into your eyes. Your lower lips were trembling, your eyes swelled with tears—and the carnal beast inside him that was so starved for answers and vengeance wheezed out a cackle.

He shushed you, cooed at you like you were a child.

"I haven't done anything yet, and you're already crying? I'll give you something to cry about soon."

He pulled you into another devouring kiss that was hellbent to consume all your rational mind. You hitched a breath against his lips when you felt his hand leave your hips to go under the top of your cups, tugging your bra down. Your spine shivered when you felt the air hit the naked skin of your whole chest, but then you felt his warm skin on your right nipple, and your mind slipped, accidentally bit down on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood.

Your mind was racing when you tasted the metallic tang, and he pulled away from you right after. He smirked at the sting, licking away the tear and the blood seeping out of it. You wanted to say it wasn't on purpose, but judging from his smug expression, he could tell it was without you saying it.

His fingers moved to pinch on your nipple, tugging on it, and you felt your face flush. Biting down on your lip and pushing your chin down, you held back from letting your sounds escape you, the shameful moans you let be trapped in your throat. Alejandro wasn't so fond of that. In retaliation, he replaced his fingers with his mouth, biting down, and was satisfied that managed to pull out a squeak out of you.

He moved to leave his mark and hickeys all over your chest, with you still fruitlessly squirming under him. So he let go of your wrists, knowing you weren't capable of pushing him off you, and traced that hand up your thigh again.

You placed your hands on his shoulders again, digging your nails in like before, and you jolted when you felt the pad of his thumb press against your clothed clit harshly, your hips buckling up at the sudden stimulation. It also made you let out a moan, and you snaked your arms around his back. Your left hand rested on the back of his head, tugging on his hair to ground yourself, and your right arm was around his shoulders.

You breathed out his name, and he was content with himself at the sound of his name leaving your lips. He lifted his thumb and instead went to tease your slit, cruelly, no trace of gentleness as he rubbed against your cunt mercilessly. Fully intent to ruin your panties with your own slick. When your panties were now completely soaked, he pushed your panties aside and pushed a finger in. You felt how you choked on your own breath at the intrusion, and he sighed feeling your tight insides wrap around his pointer finger, pushed in up to his knuckle. His fingers were long compared to yours, bigger, and just one of his fingers was about to push you over the edge.

"Alej..." You gasped out.

He pulled out a little, then plunged back in with another finger in, making you feel so full just with his digits. Right away, he fucked his fingers into you at a merciless pace, not letting you take a breath in between—all he wanted was to push you to the edge. Your head was thrown back again, mouth open wide. Your reluctant moans were a sweet song in his ears.

Just when you were just about to reach your climax, he pulled out completely, making you release a sob as your tears streaked down your face.

He brushed away the hair that stuck to your face, pushing it up past your forehead, then patting your wet cheek patronisingly. He sighed at your expression, so disoriented, so lost, so anguished—how he wanted you to be after he just robbed you of your climax.

He pushed his two fingers that had been inside you just moments before—still drenched in your slick—past your lips, not bothering to verbally command you to suck on them because he knew you were a smart girl, but whether you were obedient or not was another thing.

To his delight, you sucked on them like he wanted you to. He let out a chuckle at the stray tears leaking out your glassy eyes.

"What's wrong? Sad that I didn't let you cum? Or angry that I managed to make you feel so good when you don't want to?"

All you could let out was a sob, making him snort. He didn't think he could make you speechless with just his fingers, but he can't say he wasn't proud of himself for it. A big huff of ego stroking his enraged flames of lust and vendetta.

"Second chance, niña, second chance. Tell me what I want to know." He whispered, once he saw the haze behind your eyes cleared a bit. He yanked his fingers out of your mouth with a 'pop'.

You thinned your lips at his demands, and looked to the side, but his hand was quick to grip on your jaw. He focused your face close to his, and you watched how his snarl made its way back to his face.

"Now—I'm starting to think you're being difficult just because you can. Fucking brat."

He dove in for another filthy kiss. He bent his right leg and placed the knee on the table, then gripped your hips to press your cunt against his clothed thigh. The action made you squeal into the kiss, and you let out smothered, broken sobs when he moved your hips up and down his thigh. It was devastating when you felt him flex his muscles, hardening up as he forced you to grind against it just to push you over the edge. Your hands were holding on to his forearms like they were your lifeline, and again, your nails sunk in.

He'd adore the marks you'd leave on him, be it on his shoulders or back or on his arms.

He let go of the kiss with his teeth letting go of your bottom lip last. Watched as you clamped your eyes shut at the pleasure, but no longer biting down on your lips to block out the moans. Oh, your moans. Your moans, your sighs and whimpers—he wanted to consume all of it. A sight for sore eyes and a sweet tune for his ears, to see your red and swollen lips chanting his name in reverie.

"You want to cum, don't you? Come on, I know you want to. Do it—cum on my pants. Ruin them, I dare you." He taunted with a smirk.

It was shameful on your behalf that him degrading you so cruelly managed to make you cum so easily, creating a sticky wet patch on his pants like he had dared you to.

And it made him laugh. You couldn't even come down from your high yet and he's already humiliated you again. You're too hazy to even block out the sting behind your eyes when you hear him laugh, so you just let yourself cry for the nth time since you've been shoved into this interrogation cell. He held your cheek, a malignant smile painted across his face.

"You acted all uppity before, but look at you now. I didn't even have to fuck you to make you cum, and you're crying again. Ah, Valeria chose the wrong Vaquera. Maybe that's why she died so easily, because she had someone as pathetic as you among the cartel's ranks. You're making me pity a dead woman."

How can he be so cruel?

Did your betrayal caused this? Did you make him this heartless? Was this your fault?

Your bottom lip trembled at the questions that were going around your head, just because of how callous he was to you. You could take an angry Alejandro, screaming his head off and cussing at you like a madman—but him being so cold and so apathetic tore you up. Your already brittle heart stuttered when he rubbed his thumb on your cheek so tenderly, but you could see it in his eyes that he held nothing but hatred for you at the moment.

Somehow, even though your tears were blurring your sight, you could see that his once warm brown pupils had turned black.

"This is your third chance—your final chance to tell me what made you turn your back on us. Or else, I'm fucking you so hard, you'll be begging me to stop." His whispery, tender tone didn't match his words at all.

Alejandro has never been the guy to beat around the bush or sugarcoat anything. He was straightforward with his feelings, always. If he was happy, he'd boast about it, and if he was angry, he'd erupt into a yelling fury. Some would call it being simple, but Alejandro always felt that there should be sincerity in everything he would do— whether it would be in carrying out his duties, or interacting with the beloved citizens of Las Almas. Whether he was interrogating cartel scum, or helping an old lady carrying her groceries.

He was either warm or white hot, as if he was a human personification of ember—but now at this very moment, he was cold. So cold it gave you frostbite.

God, what have you done?

But you despairing over this couldn't outweigh your determination. No, it wasn't enough to make you crack, but the fact broke your heart.

He was driving himself insane for your answers and you were allowing it to continue.

"I can't. I can't, Alejandro, I'm sorry."

His eyes darkened completely, and you prepared yourself for his next command. For his next punishment. For pain and pleasure to intertwine so tightly you couldn't tell the difference between them anymore. Your fear and excitement now crossing each other's borders when you see just how mad he became at your refusal to give him what he truly wanted out of you.

But his next words just made you freeze.

"Get down. Bend over the table."

Anything but that. You couldn't let him see your back. You have to stop now. Once he would see what was on your back, there'd be no turning back—he would understand that you didn't go to Valeria willingly. He'd see the materialisation of your mistakes.

The scars that Valeria had carved onto your back, and the branding of her cartel's logo.

You knew freezing up would test his already paper thin patience, but you weren't in your head like before—you were panicking, hyper focused and cornered. When Alejandro's hand went to grab you, you were quick to hold up your arm to prevent him from manhandling you. You could sense his cold fury was beginning to warm up at your bold display of defiance.

Good.

"You really think you could fight against me?" He snarled like a beast, but your current fear wasn't because of him. You were scared of him uncovering what you were desperately trying to hide.

When he went in to grab you again, you actually fought him hard. You were actually putting up a real fight now.

"Stop it. Stop it. Let me go, you bastard. Let me go!" You screeched, and you managed to get off the table this time to avoid him.

You pulled your bra up as you backed yourself to a wall. Now you were really a cornered animal inside your cage. Your eyes were open wide, hyper aware of his every movement.

"I already gave you three chances—THREE! Out of mercy. You knew there would be consequences if you refused to tell me what I wanted to hear, so you don't get to run away from them anymore." He roared and stalked toward you.

You moved to run away to the corner of the cell, but he took hold of you when you were mid stride. He hugged you from behind, holding your arms and keeping them stuck around your torso as he carried you, didn't let go of you even as you swung your legs wildly. He walked to the table again, and placed you as he had ordered you to— bent down on the table.

"Stay still. Stay fucking still, or else I'm taking drastic measure." He threatened, pressing something against your back.

Even if you were desperate not to let him see what you were trying to hide, your self-preservation kicked in once you felt that cool metal pressed against your clothed back. If you move too suddenly, the knife will cut through your blouse and skin—and it'd just be another scar.

"Alejandro, please. Please."

Your pleas didn't really faze him. Instead of being concerned, he was just curious.

"You were being so good earlier—why do you have to act up now? You were taking your punishments so obediently, surely, you could handle this one." The hand that wasn't pressing the blunt edge of the knife against you slithered to your front side, sliding up your naked torso and slipping underneath your bra, rubbing on your nipples.

Then it went south to your cunt, rubbing circles on your clit, making your hips buck involuntarily. He smirked at your involuntary actions, and the smirk widened into a grin when you whined as he slipped a finger between your slick wet folds, then two, feeling your inner walls pulsing around his digits. He bent down till his chest was pressed against your back, and placed his head between your neck and shoulders as he whispered in your ears.

"You still want this, don't you? Tell me, why did you run away earlier? Hm? Maybe then I would know what can make you stay." You squirmed as he bit on your earlobe.

This was your wildest, filthiest, darkest fantasy coming to life. The cold metal pressed against your back contrasting the warm fingers that was lazily pumping in and out of your cunt, and the warm breath blown into your ear as he whispered so closely to it. Oh, yeah, you definitely need some psychosexual therapy for your kinks and fetishes, but right now, you were grasping at your rational mind by the straws, trying to remind yourself you could not let Alejandro see your naked back at all.

"I don't want to be bent over. Please. It'd be too—too humiliating."

He laughed again, and the fear that struck into you just from hearing it went straight to your ovaries too. You wanted to curse at your lust addled mind, but everything seemed to be turning you on when you're getting finger fucked by the man who's been haunting your dreams for years. He put away the knife, slipping it under the straps around his thigh, then unbuckled his belt. The sound of metal clanking made you squirm, putting in some miniscule effort to pull your cunt away from his fingers.

"Ah, but you deserve that, no? You humiliated us first, made us out for fools when we suddenly see you again after weeks, fighting on El Sin Nombre's side. Just be grateful there's no audience watching us—because that'd be true humiliation. Don't you think so too?" He spoke a little too harshly by the end to sound like a mean taunt, his anger for you never once had left his body even while you're bent over for him.

You wanted to plead more, but he literally fucked the words out of your mind when he plunged his cock in, bottoming out inside your cunt in one thrust. It made you moan so deeply, you couldn't even register it was your own voice making such noise. His breathing stuttered when he could feel you sporadically squeezing him, while you were turning into an unintelligible mess, your walls fluttering around him.

"Fuck, you're tight." He spoke through gritted teeth, his fingers around your hips clamped down in a bruising grip.

Your mind had flown right out the window by then, his words making you clench around him. He hissed at your walls collapsing around him.

"You're trying to smother me, niña. Fuck, stop that. It's difficult to even fucking move." He grunted by the end, pressing his forehead against your shoulder blade.

"Alej... it's too much. I feel too full." You groaned, and it made him groan at your words, your voice, the subtle whine you held back by the end of the sentence.

"Take it." He flared his nose, pulling out completely and bottoming out in one thrust again, pounding you against the table and making the table move.

He set a relentless pace right away, making him lose his mind just how tight you were each time he thrusted in. Something sparked inside his head, and he had to ask just how long did you go without sex? Because you felt too good, even if it was a little uncomfortable for him to maintain a fast pace. He wanted to chalk it up to you being tense, but you looked pliant and soft under him.

When he pulled up your arms so he could hold it behind you as a handle of some sort, he noticed how lax you really were. Snidely, inside his head, he mocked you for actually feeling pleased despite the fight you put up earlier—but on the other side of his mind, he became more curious. Just how long has it been since you last got fucked?

"Feels like I'm fucking a virgin. How long has it been since a man fucked you like this." With the way his thrust was particularly harsh at the word 'fucked', you moaned at it and tried to process his words.

When you stayed silent, he rolled his eyes to the side and slithered a hand to the front of your throat, giving it a squeeze.

"I asked you a question. I expect an answer no matter how fucked out you are." He snarled, delivering a harsh slap on your ass, "Now answer my question."

Your bottom lip trembled, gathering your words and hoped that it didn't come out too unintelligible, even as Alejandro continued with his merciless pace that had you gasping and panting, "I—I've never fucked anyone while I was un—OH—under—under Valeria."

And Alejandro was enthralled. That would make it a year and a half? It had been a year and a half since you fucked anyone?

"Why?"

"B-Because—GOD, ALE! Because I wasn't interested. They wanted me but—but I didn't want them."

Alejandro chuckled hearing your answer and tilted his head back, sensing his climax getting closer. The hand on your throat slithered back down to your bundle of nerves, pressing on it harshly to push you over the edge. That sudden burst of pleasure made you jump, and you whined as your hand went to his, trying to pry it away from rubbing rough circles on your clit.

"Too much. I'd cum again, and I d-don't know if I can handle that." You sobbed, digging your nails into the flesh of his palm, but he didn't budge. In fact, he somehow began thrusting into you even rougher and faster, making you gasp.

"Then do it. Cum with me, suck me dry. Your pussy's already so fucking tight anyway—you need the release, niña." He nipped the tip of your ear, before soothing it with his tongue.

And that had been the trick. Your ears have always been sensitive.

You came with a cry, making his one free hand glide to your chest and squeeze one of your breasts as you came around him. He hissed, cumming just after you did, and his rough fast circles on your clit became slow and gentle, wanting to let you ride your orgasm out in waves.

He dropped his head in the crook between your neck and shoulder, licking away your sweat and nipping at your skin as he emptied his balls inside you. As he pulled out and wore his pants properly again, he was fascinated to see his cum spilling out of your cunt, dripping to the floor below. After he fastened his belt, he plunged a finger in, making you squirm over the table, and ignored your whines as he fucked his cum back into you.

He had been to fixated in keeping his cum inside you, that it took him a minute to notice your white blouse had gone transparent after being soaked in your sweat. You were too fucked out to even notice that your worst case scenario was being played out as Alejandro stopped finger fucking you to focus on the myriad of scars painted across your whole back.

Horrific scars. Discolored. The darker, more reddish discoloration is a stark contrast to your usual skin tone. Alejandro's mind was slowly ridding itself of the post orgasm haze as he focused on them.

You let out a cry when he pulled up your blouse, finally realising why he had stopped thrusting his fingers into you and had gone quiet, no more taunts reaching your ears. Because he had been stunned into silence.

You flipped yourself until the table's edge dug into your back and your face was finally facing his again.

"What was that?" He uttered, voice sounding like a whisper.

You shook your head, hugging yourself, your own arms wrapped around you. He took a step closer, and quickly attempted to turn you around again but you fought against him. Pushed him off of you, and he finally noticed just how desperate you looked.

"What the fuck were those?"

"None of your business, Coronel."

"Bullshit. I know you didn't get them from when you were still under me."

"So what?"

Alejandro's vein on his forehead made its appearance again at your indignation.

"They looked like WHIPPING SCARS! WHERE DID THOSE COME FROM, Y/N?"

You flinched back at his yell, and your hands went to bundle itself above your chest. You tried to calm yourself down, but you're so horrified and ashamed that Alejandro got to see them, because they reminded you of the worst memories you had serving under Valeria. Your tears rolled down your face and you tucked your chin under, shame making your whole body numb.

"Please..." You begged pathetically, and Alejandro knew what you were actually begging for was his questions to stop.

Because all this time, you didn't tell him what he wanted to know out of shame. Just pure shame and guilt.

You didn't turn to Valeria willingly.

Alejandro walked closer, ignored you flinching back at his close proximity, and gripped both of your shoulders as he bent down to your shorter height to stare directly into your eyes. You closed your eyes shut, and started to shake your head as you struggled to escape his grip, but he didn't relent.

"...why were you whipped, y/n?"

"No, Alejandro, please—please don't make me admit it."

"You owe me answers. You owe me. You owe Rudy, you owe Rodriguez—you owe all of us the truth, y/n. The fucking truth. I need to hear you say it with your own mouth because I know you'd never lie to my face." He spoke in a grounded tone of voice, strict and even, but softened as he continued, "It wouldn't erase what you did, but it's the least you could do. You know this, you know you do. So, please, just tell me the truth."

You opened your eyes again to look at him, and how come he never noticed just how devastated you really were?

"Each whipping was for every Vaquero I didn't kill every time we exchanged gunfire...Valeria knew how skilled I am with a sniper, so she knew it had been a deliberate choice on my part to not shoot each and every one of you dead on the spot." You sniffled, and you see Alejandro's strict expression falling at the implication, his grip on your shoulders going slightly loose.

You never wanted to join Valeria in the first place. You never stopped considering Vaqueros your brothers. Out of shame, you covered your face as you felt your eyes hurting at the onslaught of tears coming out.

"...now you probably figured out I didn't join the cartel willingly." You sobbed into your palm.

Alejandro's hold on your shoulders tightened again, and you knew what he wanted to know next.

What dirt did Valeria threaten you with?

"I messed up, Alejandro. I didn't leave because I wanted to, but I had to. I had to do it. To protect them—"

"Protect who?"

"...there had been a sicario following my every movement while I was on break, and they had followed me to my family home. Valeria had uncovered who my family was, where they lived—I either joined the cartel or let my flesh and blood die—"

It's worse than he imagined. His blood ran cold when he heard your next words.

"—but I couldn't make me deserting Los Vaqueros be for nothing. I had to do something, so I leaked some info from time to time to sabotage her business...and Valeria found out."

Alejandro let go of your shoulders completely when your eyes became so haunted, and he could see the wretched memories reflected against it.

"...no. No, y/n, don't tell me...no...Valeria didn't..."

Your hands went to his chest, pulling on the fabric of his clothes. Your face crumbled, looking utterly devastated as you tilted your head up to look at him more clearly.

"She made me the last surviving member of my family in one night."

[icedragonlizard]

Susie and Francisca friendship headcanons

This is one of the things I mentioned in my yesterday post going over major headcanon changes I've made, as I now headcanon Francisca being the mage sister that Susie is closest to.

Allow me to elaborate my new take on the dynamic for these two!

How these two first became friends is... uh, gonna be honest, it's actually a little bit humorous as to how they first became friends.

Because here's the thing: Susie initially wasn't interested in befriending the mage sisters. After HiAD, she became jealous of the fact that the mage sisters still have an alive father while she doesn't. Francisca was the one that she actually felt the MOST jealousy towards, because she was ALSO afraid that the icy blue mage was going to steal "cute woman" spotlight away from her.

For those reasons, it seemed inevitable that there was going to be some serious beef between these two.

But something happens that diffuses the bomb of potential strife. At one point, Francisca quite literally comes up to Susie and says "Ohhh.... you're so pretty and cute! ^^" and then Susie just MELTS as she's shocked and flattered. It doesn't even stop there, as Francisca then talks about how she always saw her as a beautiful and cute woman.

Susie, having a sense of pride, always considered herself to be cute. To suddenly be called so cute by another woman that she was afraid was gonna steal cuteness spotlight away from her... that elicited a massive emotional reaction out of her. She MELTED. She then thanked Francisca so much for the compliments.

That's what marked the beginning of their friendship. It was then shortly followed by Susie befriending the other two mage sisters afterwards, but Francisca stays as the one she's by far the closest to.

They've bonded over a few things: daddy issues, that they're able to share "cute and beautiful woman" spotlight together, and also over the fact that they're both also really unhinged and twisted despite being so cutesy. Even though Hyness is still alive, Francisca (and Flamberge) still has many hang-ups with him, meaning that she still ultimately has daddy issues. This is something she talked to Susie about as she was sympathetic to the former secretary's horrific backstory.

The other two mage sisters have a tendency to lightheartedly "bully" Susie sometimes despite also being friends with her. Flamberge has a tendency to tease her a lot, and Zan Partizanne often calls her embarrassing nicknames. In fact, Susie and Zan even have a "friendly, but a little rough" rivalry going on where they commonly butt heads and even make each other frustrated, although it's basically became their thing.

Flamberge and Zan aren't the first friends Susie made that like to clown on her a lot. Magolor and Marx were already doing it before them. Hahahaha. For some reason, Susie just has many friends that like to tease her. She's bold enough to deliberately clown on them right back, though. She's grown used to doing it.

Francisca, on the other hand, treats Susie more sweetly than the other two mages do, allowing Susie to have a nicer and more laidback time with Francisca than she does with the other two mages. Francisca joins Taranza in being a friend for Susie that she has a nicer dynamic with. Another person she can just totally relax with.

It's funny because Francisca is, in fact, NOT the nicest mage sister overall despite her outward demeanor... the REAL nicest mage overall is Flamberge as she's ONLY truly angry when you mess with her family and is rather compassionate otherwise, while Francisca is deep down an actually psychotic bitch that can and has made trophies out of people. But in terms of which mage sister is the nicest TO SUSIE, it's Francisca. She has a soft spot for Susie as she just thinks Susie is really cute and pretty, so she's sincerely nice to her.

And because of that, Susie is sincerely nice to Francisca back despite being pretty cold herself. One could say that these two cold bitches are not so cold to each other.

They do some fun things together. They do cute things AND do really unhinged things together. Just like Susie, Francisca also really likes ice cream and is a fan of cute things, so expect that to be in their dynamic.

They've collaborated in some freaky inventions of both the technological and frosty sorts, as Susie's been helping Francisca become more an inventor. In fact... Francisca even starts making silly weird Furby toys on her own because Susie got her into doing it.

It's also worth mentioning that Susie likes the winter. There have been times where Francisca has taken her to a heavily snow-covered planet and then they both just make snow angels.

These two giggle cutely together A LOT. For various reasons. Sometimes they're just giggling over something adorable, but other times they're giggling while plotting some very frightening hijinks to cause. It can be... scary to see these two women giggle together sometimes.

Francisca calls Susie "Ms. Susie".

All in all, these two are buddies. While Taranza is the one that claims the title of Susie's best friend, Francisca might be in 3rd or even 2nd place for her (she contends with Magolor for 2nd place, who Susie highly enjoys the tech expertise of despite her cain instinct relationship with him). On the other hand, Susie is one of Francisca's closest non-cult friends alongside Marx.

----

That's practically all I have to say here! Back then, I used to headcanon Zan Partizanne to be the mage sister that Susie is closest to, but I've changed that now. As time went on, I've grown more and more partial to the idea of Susie and Francisca being buddies. In fact, I'd say Zan is the mage that Susie is the most DISTANT from in my headcanons now, as Zan can sometimes be insufferable in Susie's mind with all the embarrassing nicknames.

LMAO, what a contrast from what I had before. Doesn't say a ton though because they're still friends, just a bit more contentious now.

Shoutout to people who do Fransusie. My favorite Susie ship is still Taransusie, but Fransusie is easily close second for me now.

[no-gram]

ACT1 No Longer Human

There are two creatures in the box yard.

Humans and aliens who cannot imitate humans.

They must live humbly as shadows and losers, accepting their own misery and badness, and be thankful that they are not being looked down upon by humans. They are weak bodies that even cotton can hurt.

I think it is strange that there are aliens on earth. I even think aliens deserve to be eliminated.

However, as a human being, I have to protect stupid creatures.

But why are there aliens in this box garden?

Didn't the alien's parents think it was strange? There is a saying that the right person is in the right place.

Forcing them to imitate human beings is not very nice, but it's ridiculous.

To be alive is a terrible thing. Chains are tangled everywhere, and if you move an inch, blood spurts out.

And yet they go to the trouble of tying themselves up. Why don't they just go back to their own planet?

I felt the same way about you.

I wondered why you are here, if you can't imitate humans.

The encounter was simple. You are an alien, and yet here you are.

That's disgusting. I thought, “You can't even imitate a human being.

But you were worth it.

Just having you next to me made people see me as a good person. You were a trophy.

I thought so.

But one thing has gone wrong.

Maybe you and the humans thought I was an all-powerful god.

Humans would have thought I could take care of the aliens, and you forgot to thank me.

Next, something went wrong again.

You gradually took on human form. And you forgot your position.

Come to think of it, you couldn't imitate humans, yet you were very particular.

In fact, you couldn't hide your obsession because you couldn't imitate humans, could you?

You are a poor alien.

”I have an idea.”

You are an alien, so what are you doing here?

The humans in this box yard used to look at you with pity. Now they are treating you like a god?

You were surrounded by humans, smiling with a grin and a creepy look on your face.

Once I tried to correct the first difference.

”You are arrogant, are you happy to take advantage of me?”

”I'm sorry.”

I wasn't sure if you felt bad, but okay. That's just the way it was.

You are good, you have talent.

It's not fair, you are not human, so you are recognized by many people just because you can draw a little.

But it would be strange if you weren't recognized.

That's how beautiful you were as you painted in the sting of the setting sun.

I can't stand your arrogance any longer, you'll see. You cannot live without me. You'll regret it, I'm sure.

The world will not forgive.

“It's not the world. “It's not the world, it's you who won't forgive me.”

If you do that, the world will punish you.

“It's not the world. It's you, isn't it?

The world will bury you now.

“It's not the world. You're the one who buried xxx.

”You are arrogant, are you happy to take advantage of me?”

”I'm sorry.”

“Aliens.”

We may think we are the best of friends, but we don't understand each other, we may see each other in the wrong light, we may think we are best friends, and when the other person dies, we may cry and read condolences.

No, I don't even recognize the other person's voice anymore.

I have lived a lifetime of shame. I have no idea what human life is like for me now.

Human, disqualified. I am no longer fully human.

No, no, it was aliens.

My phone ran out of charge.

[aubaee]

Always

Original Story: Between Us by hanmi-xo

Pairing: C.SC x Astrid Roscent (OC)

Scenario: Seungcheol’s girlfriend encounters her ex-boyfriend Jeonghan during their date.

warnings: slight angst, seungcheol tries to comfort oc, mentions of abuse in past relationship (emotional, neglect, physical- only twice), oc has anxiety & trauma, mention of infidelity in past relationship, mentions of love bombing s/o, pet names (love, princess), mentions of gaslight & manipulation

a/n: this is one of the scenarios i had in mind with this couple, tho it consists past history of the two. feedback is very much appreciated! <3 honestly, not my proudest works huhu

This is a work of fiction! Pls separate this from irl Jeonghan. We all know how respectful he is, so pls NO HATE towards any SVT members!

Seungcheol is pissed. Towards their short encounter with his ex-best friend, who was also his girlfriend's ex-boyfriend.

"Don't delight yourself. That's never going to happen," Seungcheol grits his teeth, holding Astrid's hand tighter in his grasp as they walk past a smirking Jeonghan.

Seungcheol knew what Jeonghan was implying. He knew the games he played. What he’s capable of- and Jeonghan wanted to ruin them both, keeping them on edge- to anger them. He wanted to destroy their relationship ever since Seungcheol cut ties with him.

Joshua, Jeonghan's model best friend, announced the news of Astrid and Seungcheol's new relationship. Officially becoming a couple four years after Jeonghan dumped Astrid on the street, literally.

Jeonghan knew it was bound to happen sooner or later, considering he knew how Seungcheol felt all those years together as friends. Soon as Seungcheol told him about the girl he had feelings for, Jeonghan was quick to steal Astrid from him.

Jeonghan kept a facade to entertain Astrid during their relationship, only wanting to keep her for 'appearance purposes', treating her as a trophy to show off. During events with his group of friends, he would leave her unattended while he socialized. Other times he would be out late at night drinking and flirting with women.

Jeonghan never truly loved her as a person.

He didn't even know her likes and dislikes or what she was allergic to since he never paid any attention to her. On the other hand, Astrid knew everything about Jeonghan since she wanted his attention, despite being in a relationship with him it always felt like she wasn't enough.

Not even his past relationships lasted long since he jumped from relationship to relationship. Giving the same excuse of how his past girlfriends were crazy which led to him "breaking things off".

So when Jeonghan received an offer abroad for his modeling career, he didn't hesitate for a second to accept it. He ended the relationship quickly with Astrid, disregarding her feelings and leaving her on the street as he drove off.

***

Back then, Astrid thought she was the happiest and luckiest girl alive to be with Jeonghan. But that happiness didn’t last long behind closed doors.

Everything went well into the relationship for the first couple months- or so she thought, realizing that Jeonghan wasn’t exactly the person she knew.

From an outside person’s point of view, they looked like the perfect it couple but from Astrid’s viewpoint it was far from that.

In any way possible, Jeonghan would gaslight her self-esteem, and manipulate her from social interactions, especially from her finances. There was never a day when he’d compliment her. Even if he did, that only occurred as an act to the public within their peers. Often times by the end of the day, Jeonghan would surprise Astrid with expensive gifts and shower her with affection, such as cuddling and kissing. And Astrid thought that was normal in the relationship despite all the emotional abuse he gave her.

She didn’t know any better than to be a supportive and loving girlfriend. She was too kindhearted. She thought ‘If I obey his wishes, then he will treat me better. I’ll be a good girlfriend.’

But there were countless nights where she’d barely get any sleep at all and if she was lucky enough- she would cry herself to sleep.

She gave everything to Jeonghan, her first love.

The last few months into their relationship, witnesses from their peers had spoken up about Jeonghan’s infidelity. There were times where Astrid witnessed Jeonghan flirting openly with other ladies from their school. She’d confront him about it, question him about his actions and Jeonghan would reply with “Why are you concerned about what I’m doing? I’m just talking to them. We’re just friends.” With every confrontation, Jeonghan would deflect the argument by degrading her.

“God, you’re acting just like my crazy ex- Can we not talk about it?”

“Why haven’t you been working out? Don’t you know you’re getting bigger? You should be more like her-“

“What will you do without me? No one will look your way if you’re like that.”

Within the last month of their relationship, it grew worse. He would constantly be out with girls at night while she cried herself to sleep, fully aware of his actions. Jeonghan continued to discourage her and began to physically abuse her.

Astrid was tired; mentally, physically, and emotionally drained. She lost hope in their relationship, questioning if she should leave but she hesitated.

More than anything she was scared, alone, and believed every lie Jeonghan spouted. His abuse stopped after two occurrences, which led to their separation and Seungcheol saved her by the dead end of the night.

That same night Jeonghan left Astrid on the street, she was contemplating who to contact considering her phone was low on battery. She quickly contacted the first person who appeared up on her screen and sent her current location. Within seconds before her phone died, the said person replied, ‘Wait for me. I’ll go to you.’

She didn’t doubt Seungcheol for a second. He drove to her location and found her sitting on the benches, her face stained with tear marks, swollen eyes and red nose. He quickly got out of his car and ran to her, engulfing her into a hug. He caressed her hair as she couldn’t hide her emotions from him, breaking into a sobbing mess as she held onto him tightly, “It’s okay. Shh, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

***

“Don’t worry, love,” Seungcheol glanced down at Astrid, slowing down his pace once they were at a good distance away from Jeonghan. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything at all. He won’t go anywhere near you.” He rubs her hand with his thumb still holding onto her, soothing her from the anxiety building up inside.

Tears began to form in her eyes, threatening to fall as she gave her boyfriend a small smile. “I know..” She knew deep down, Jeonghan still had an effect on her.

The trauma was still evidently there but she was slowly healing with the help of Seungcheol. He was patient with Astrid. He gave her every reassurance when she was at her lowest. Respected her space when she needed it.

He would pamper her with affection, and shower her with words of encouragement to get through the day. Seungcheol gave her love and security. She felt safe in his arms. The epitome of ‘if comfort was a person.’

Seungcheol's heart sank witnessing his partner break into tears. He faced her, cupping her face into his hands, and lightly squished her cheeks, "Trust me. I'm right here- always, Ash." He lowered his head to kiss her on the forehead. He would do anything for his partner to smile, preventing her from harm and never wanting to see Astrid cry.

Astrid smiles at his kiss. She rests her head on his chest and wraps her arms around his waist, pulling him close to a hug. In return Seungcheol wraps his arms around her, his chin resting on top of her head, gently playing with the ends of her hair whilst rubbing her back. They stayed in that position until Astrid calmed down from her anxiety.

With a deep breath, Astrid blinked away her tears and looks up at Seungcheol, “I’m good now, Cheol.”

He looks down with his brows knitted together, concern in his eyes, “Are you sure? Do you still want to continue on with our date? We can go back to my place and I can order us take out instead.”

As much as Seungcheol loved going on dates with Astrid during their free availability, her well-being mattered more than anything.

“Are you sure? You already made reservations at the restaurant though. It’d be a waste to not go,” Astrid pouted, unlocking herself from the hug.

“I want you to feel comfortable despite anything. We can always reschedule it,” he nods, pulling out his phone from the back pocket of his jeans with one hand and the other interlocking with hers as he plants a kiss onto her knuckles, “So, what do you say? It’s your call, Princess.”

☆ please like & reblog ☆

[kharmii]

DONALD TRUMP ELECTION HYSTERIA!!!!!1!11!!

We sure did. Remember shortly after Trump was elected in 2016, we had one of the largest mass shootings in history. Some nutjob Stephen Paddock shot up a country music concert in Las Vegas Nevada killing 60 and wounding 413. They claimed he wasn't affiliated with any ideology but you just know.... Country music does lean conservative.

My personal life was a lot quieter and more stress free during four years of Biden, even if the wider world was going to shit. When Trump was in for four years, the whackos at work constantly buzzed around like angry bees. The tension was in the air. Every so often, one of them would blurt out the latest media outrage and get the others going. They were angry all the time for no reason.

I feel like this is a message aimed at me personally. No, having Trump in will not affect the lives of you inconsequential people on Tumblr, unless you pay taxes and support a family. Trump is the champion of normal people. Normies took a stand this election and said they care more about having a safe sane good economy than your intersectionality politics. Anyway, yes, I will stay alive.

I will live. I will practice situational awareness around the whackos at work. I will watch out for that crazy bitch ex-cheerleader with eyes pointing out in different directions who tried to ruin my life. I can't see her, but her work area is near mine, so I'll treat her like the scorpion under the rock that I can't see but I know it's there.

-Like seriously people. Are your memories that short? Four years of Biden was super quiet, but when Trump was in, we constantly had mass shootings, looting, rioting, businesses and cities burning, traffic being blocked. The useful idiot cause heads were being put to good use causing nonstop chaos, all because a cop in any given place would put some criminal down in the act of committing a crime. No, George Floyd's life didn't matter. All lives matter in the eyes of God, but in the eyes of society, if you choose to be a useless criminal, then your life isn't worth a dick of a dog. Getting shot by the police is doing the tax payer a favor.

Left wing tolerance. If I'm following you, it's for the art. I generally don't gaf about your political leanings, unless I'm stealing some friend-of-a-friend reblog to take the piss.

HAHAHAHAHAHAA!!!!!! Competent at what? She was the DEI hire trophy wife nothing personality. Hopefully now she lost, we don't ever have to see her face or hear her annoying voice ever again. Soon, we will forget she ever existed outside of the random cock warmer joke.

Holy shit......this will not age well.

No, people on the right do not want to ban books. We just want the books about incest and anal rape out of the middle schools you degenerate chucklefucks. Again, Donald Trump is the champion of normal people.