#he wouldn't use his “followers” to spread fear

[seeinghcsts]

THE HUMOR IN HIS EYES FADED , just for a moment , as he cleared his throat and uncomfortably shifted where he sat ; " — maybe uh , maybe that wasn't the right way to word it . " but the amusement came right back at her reasoning , brows lifting , a toothy-wide smile reserved for her — as foreign as it felt now — spreading across his lips as he barked out a laugh . " a giant ?? fuckin' hell — i'm not , , , kody , you're just. . . small . " blinking as she moved towards him , he immediately back pedaled ; " not small as in. . . fuckin' insignificant or anything . you're not insignificant you're just. . . like small . physically . short . " actively lifting a hand to hit himself in the forehead , an action that resulted in the well-deserved throbbing of his ailed temples , thomas sighed ; " i'm gonna shut the fuck up now . "

when thomas opened his eyes again , it was to see her outstretched palm . for a moment , he was tempted to wince ; half-expecting the hand to come zipping through the cabin air to wail across his face . it would have been deserved , and he wouldn't have blamed her , but it didn't mean he wanted it to happen . when the man realized it was an offering for assistance , however , he himself hesitated . listening to her , he nodded , swallowing his own ego to reach up and take her hand — soft and delicate in his grip — before using it in tandem with his other to push up against the wall . then , a snort of humility sounded , followed by the playful roll of his eyes ; " thanks . "

thomas let go of her hand , bringing it to his chest to swipe the singed skin across his front though his skin still buzzed in her touch's wake . his gaze found her , the lump in his throat turning to stone , before looking down at the shirt in her hand and quirking a brow ; " do you , uh , , , " he cleared his throat , making room for the question in his mouth . his voice lowered , scratchy like sandpaper , a tinge of fear glazing his words ; " — do you really think it was him ?? "

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎"Human crutch? Really?" Like he hadn't already treated her like that since probably day one. It took a long time for her to realize that but it wasn't always easy to see the truth. Hindsight was twenty-twenty. "I bet I can find a stick which would be much better to use. Like, no offense or anything, but I don't think I can carry you. You're like a giant." It wasn't that Kody couldn't hold her own but with him leaning on her, clambering over rocks and fallen branches, she didn't like their odds. Pushing herself up onto her feet, Kody grabbed the ragged t-shirt she'd been using to wipe her face off with and moved towards him. "There's tons of broken branches around, we should be able to find one."

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ She hesitated for a second, a lot of the past pushing against her but it was time to put it aside ( at least for now ), before holding her hand out to him. "Come on, I'll even try to protect you from doors if any come flying out of the woods." The odds of that were low but apparently never zero when you were this group.

[the-whispers-of-death]

cult leader stone .

i dont know where this thought came from or even if you can do anything with it. but know that i thought of this.

Anon: *proposes Cult Leader!Stone*

Stone in my head: HUH??

Honestly, I don't think Stone could be charismatic enough to be a cult leader. Unless it's Baker!Stone. Baker!Stone is the most charismatic Stone variant there is, and even then the man is too much of a softie to really be a cult leader.

So I feel like Cult Leader!Stone isn't really a cult leader, like not one who manipulates his followers like most cult leaders do, he just gained a shit ton of people who are hanging onto his every word and they follow him around. He's really confused because he's just a retired Fleet Marine Corpsman (I made him retired in this AU because how else is he supposed to be leading a cult, he can't lead one when he's on deployments), someone that's usually considered to be unapproachable.

I feel like the man would use his newfound power for good. Like:

Follower: What should we do in preparation for the second-coming of Jesus?

Stone, a Catholic who has never really heard a priest talk about the second-coming of Jesus: Take care of yourself and those around you. Drink lots of water and eat nutritiously. And don't force others to join the group.

Another Follower: ...We shouldn't spread the word about your holy word?

Stone: Maybe don't call it my holy word. And yeah, I mean, tell them what I've said, but only if they ask for it. Don't force them into a conversation about us.

Yeah, so like, I think Stone would just see the amount of people who want to buy or build a compound for this "cult" and be like "We should let the homeless sleep and live here for free."

[lowkeyrobin]

JAMES HOOK ; perfect revenge

summary ; after also turning into a weird flamingo hybrid with uliana, hook tries to conjure up a plan for revenge for you. and ulianna

warnings ; language, bullying

disclaimers ; reader is a siren (on land)

requested by ; @stargener

word count ; 902

masterlist

Uliana cackles, using her tentacle to hand you two flamingo feathers.

"That's too many!" Bridget exclaims

Uliana glares at her. "Does it look like I care?"

You swallow your feathers, giggling back at your friends.

"You're just jealous," She rolls her eyes, following your actions. "Of my beauty."

"You'll regret that," Bridget mumbles.

You and Uliana giggle and cackle, you leaning over her shoulder to look in her portable mirror. You smile, tilting your head as you watch your hair glow a bright pink.

Uliana jumps back, coughing up feathers with a worried, scared look. Her hair also glows pink, the color spreading from the fringe to the occipital rather quickly as she frightfully looks around, seeing all eyes were on her and you.

"You look a little.. pink" Hook giggles.

You begin to do the same, looking back at Hook, unable to call for him as you hack up feather upon feather. You fall to your knees, watching feathers magically grow from your skin, a thick coat of them burying into your flesh.

"Someone should help them!"

Your shaky hands are held in front of your face, you watch as your fingers grow into claws. Hook's expression clearly falters, seeing you watch yourself turn into some hybrid monster.

The laughter fills your ears, the smiles and giggles the only thing your brain would process. They stare at you as you sit hopelessly, watching yourself fall to the magical trickery. You'd never felt more weak. As your reputation quickly drips down the drain, you think of how you wouldn't be feared any longer, how you'd end up becoming a victim to your own creation.

"Yeah, someone should help them" Hades mutters, Maleficent smacking him.

Harry looks between the couple and then at you two, watching Morgie try and help Ulianna up from the ground. He's quickly smacked back, landing on his ass as Uliana rises, showcasing her new face job. Her face represented one of a flamingo, beak and all.

Her screams are turned into bird honks as she quickly chases after Bridget and Ella. She chases them away toward a side yard, the AK's following quickly. Hades and Maleficent shrug, following the crowd. Morgie does the same, breaking into a sprint after watching Red and Chloe chase after Uliana.

Hook rushes to you, paralyzed in fear and embarrassment on the concrete. His hands float over your shoulders, not exactly wanting to touch you.

"Go get them" You snarl, wanting your boyfriend to leave you be.

He quickly nods, rushing after his friends, his heeled boots clicking on the pavement.

Your limbs were coated in feathers, your hands now claws, your hair bright pink. With wide eyes, you stumble over to the fountain in the courtyard, hoping and wishing the magical water would rid you of your now hideous appearance.

Water was your home, maybe even just sitting in it would make you feel slightly okay.

You place your feet in the fountain, drenching your boots. You sit down criss-cross, running your head beneath the running water, a shiver running down your spine as the cold liquid hits your feathered skin.

You feel the feathers fall from your limbs, your skin revealed once again, leaving large dark marks on your skin, like strawberry skin but ten times worse. Your claws shrink back down to your normal hands, your hair's new pink glow fading as it rinses away from your scalp.

"Y/n?" James speaks from behind you, having rushed to your aid after Ulianna fell into the magic spring water pool not far away. "Are you alright, darling?"

"No," you quickly answer, eyebrows furrowed out of your internal anger.

He slowly approaches, trying to bring you away from the fountain, to dry you off at least. "My love-"

"Shut up."

You lounge in your dorm with James, trying to push your head anywhere that wasn't back earlier in the day. Your head rests on your pillow as you stare at the ceiling, allowing you to count the stars in the night sky through the skylight above your bed.

You wanted to get back at Bridget, but didn't know how.

She subjected you to humiliation, to embarrassment. She wasn't anything, she had to bribe people with food to be her friend. She was a pathetic excuse of life and a waste of space. She'd grow to be nothing-

"I have an idea," James speaks, turning back to look at you on your bed, having been looking out the window.

You turn your head to look at him. "What?"

He slyly smiles, a mischievous look in his eye. "We embarrass her at Castlecoming. She wouldn't miss it for the life of her, we make her fall to the floor, ugly as an ogre."

You blink. "You sound like you're talking about me," you mumble, rolling your eyes as you turn on the bed, your back facing him.

He sighs, pulling you up from the bed. You stand on your feet, your pajamas resting upon your frame as he laces his hand into yours, his hook carefully resting over your shoulder.

"We'll get her back, my lovely siren royalty." He smiles, his eyes gazing upon your lips before looking back at you in the eye. To say he was in love was an understatement. "You know I'd do anything for you, right?"

You lightly smile, glancing down before looking back up at him. "Yeah"

"Good"

[melloollem]

Trash|| Bruce Wayne × child!reader

Summary: In a city where survival is your main objective, you do whatever it takes, including getting involved in Gotham's criminal world.

Warnings: Common comic book violence, weapons, corruption of minors (minors involved in crimes), reader with no gender specified, comment if you want to be tagged in the continuation.

(Chapter ll, Chapter lll, Chapter lV)

(Dc masterlist)

Prologue

The problem with Gotham was that those who said crime didn't pay would soon start to think it did and those who said it did would find the end too quickly for it to be true. Your problem was that you didn't have time to decide whose side you were on. When the city became a field of war, it was better to have a side, whether it was the side of the innocent or not.

Although you were young, you had seen the city destroy itself and start over many times. At some point, you realized that it wasn't starting over, it was just continuing. Fear gas exploded in the city, chaos spread, a villain was arrested, next month another villain had his own idea for an attack and the city didn't even have a chance to repair the damage from the last attack. It was in one of these circumstances that you lost your family. What did you do without your mother in a city where fear was a constant feeling? Survive and you would follow the law of the weakest.

Petty theft, that's how it always starts, take what you want and run. You weren't the most skilled, but circumstances make the thief and it's not as if you didn't have examples to follow. You lived on the worst side of town, used to seeing robberies almost daily, it was easy, just see where they went wrong and do better. You noticed that most of the thugs who committed robberies in Crime Alley were caught, ironic isn't it? You had also calculated a gap in time when there was no vigilante on duty, it was a few minutes before they spread across the city, the police patrols in Gotham were constant, but they weren't looking for you if you committed petty crimes, there were bigger problems for the city.

In a few months, you had your own map of Gotham, with the information that really mattered: areas prone to robbery, areas that should be avoided, small crooks, big crooks, who ran what, what crime could be committed in each area, which crime was worth the most. If circumstances made the thief, you were in the circumstance most likely to make him successful. And if it had all started with petty theft, soon your preparation would prove that you were capable of more, and it didn't take long for the bandits in the area to notice your potential, now you work as a bandit's henchman, it's not as if you were a big deal, they just considered you skillful enough. You could be useful to them, but if you died in a few weeks' time there would be another one like you, this town was shit.

And if with small robberies, you were out of focus, when a major city bank is robbed with all the vigilantes busy trying to stop it, now everyone knew there was something fishy and you knew it wouldn't be long before the vigilantes were on your tail. You could escape the Gotham police, but Batman? It wasn't about being found, it was about when you would be found. Your first thought was to run away, but did anyone care if you got killed for going against the law? They were clear, you stayed until the end, it was kill or be killed.

Bruce followed your every move, if your plan consisted of staying off the vigilantes' radar, once they saw you, it wasn't hard to find the rest, every crime was in evidence. At first, he thought you were like young Jason, a kid from Gotham who was doing everything he could to survive, but without hurting anyone, and well, you were trying to survive, but if someone had to die in the process, it wouldn't be you.

He thought about approaching you at first, but you didn't look like you were going to give in, you were one of those who were always ready to attack, too scared to look into the dark before firing. If he wanted to approach you, it would have to be slowly, he didn't want you to run away or react. You might have been the one holding a gun, but you were also a child who shuddered at the sound of his shot.

But Batman's plans for you would have to hurry up. In one of the robberies you had planned and were on the front line for, you had been shot in the stomach, and it was now that you would discover that crime doesn't pay. Something peculiar about this situation was that there were no police, it was a vigilante's bullet that had pierced you. Now the Red Hood was carrying your weak body to a Gotham emergency ward, how could he have guessed that the person who shot him was just a child? The second he heard a child scream in reaction to the bullet, he ran for your life.

You looked exactly like a street kid, did you have parents? He didn't have time to find out, he wasn't sure if someone would come and stay with you in hospital, so he did. For the next few hours guilt consumed Jason, how could he shoot a child? He was in the waiting room, now in civilian clothes, waiting to hear from you. He hadn't called anyone, but after signs of a disastrous mission in a Gotham warehouse, Jason had a target on his back, so Bruce obviously wanted to know where he was.

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

This is the prologue to a story that will soon be released. I hope you enjoy it and stay tuned to my profile. Every new episode released will be linked in this post, comment if you want to be tagged.

[mr-ys-phantasma]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1554

Finale I - part 2/3 (Agatha X Reader ending):

You did not fear death. At least not anymore.

Agatha was clearly hesitating, You were the one person she could not lose. But she could not give herself up either.

It annoyed her how you were not letting Billy take the fall for all of you. It was that simple, and yes, it was cruel, but this was life.

You would learn to live with it.

Billy looked at you, and he knew you were serious. Yet he could not let you do this. You were the last person to deserve such fate.

And so, he directed his attention on Agatha as he tried hard; a part of him hoping the Road and even this final battle was enough to truly help him connect with her.

He looked at her and eventually managed to connect with her telepathically. He finally managed to bypass any barriers and mental walls she had raised, a result of her magic and training across the centuries.

'Agatha', he called in her mind. The purple witch did an excellent job at hising her surprise, not expecting to hear anyone in her mind; let alone him. 'Is this what happened to Nicky?' He dared to ask.

His question hit Agatha harder than any of Rio's attacks. She knew this was not what happened to their son, and yet, she could not help but feel this... guilt and pain.

Nicky wouldn't want her to sacrifice one more soul to Rio, and he sure wouldn't want you to stay behind or take the fall for everyone.

He always had a soft spot for you.

As Agatha looked at the serious you with the glass shard still in your hands, she made a decision... one, she most likely won't live to regret it.

With silent steps, Agatha started to walk towards her former lover and spread her arms, inviting her into her embrace.

Rio took notice, and yet she did not fight this subconscious need to be in Agatha's arms. She did not expect her lover to hold her face gently and then initiate a kiss; even though she was almost always the one to do so.

Billy stared in surprise, not expecting such a move. All he could do was stare, his mind taking a little longer to realize Agatha's true plan.

You didn't, though, and once you spotted the faint, green veins on Agatha's cheeks; you knew what she was doing.

Your eyes opened wide in surprise, disbelief following after along with fear; as your body and heart processed the intense emotions caused by that kiss...

Or better say, Agatha's reckless and selfless plan.

"No," you exclaimed weakly and stopped putting your magic into healing your wound.

You stared as faint green veins spread across Agatha's cheek, Rio's magic entering her body. Black magic flared in response and started to wrap around the two lovers as Agatha's skin started to turn paler and paler.

Rio understood it too, but she could not stop, her magic already affecting Agatha. She kept the kiss, a single tear trailing down her cheek as she realized what Agatha was doing and how she had chosen to end this all... her noble sacrifice.

Rio couldn't stop, but you could, or so your subconscious thought.

For the second the two lovers parted lips, your scream echoed across the backyard as your white magic went out of control. Forming a bright white wave, it expanded circulalry all around you; tossing Billy back but also Rio.

Agatha had already started to levitate, black magic tendrils sucking her life away but quickly disappeared as the force of your white magic obliterated them.

You sprinted on your feet, running on Agatha's body that was now laying on the grass; skin turning paler as time was almost up.

You knelt and placed her head on your lap, both hands holding her cheeks as your white magic glowed and tried to help save your lover.

"It's no use." Rio said as she recovered from your outburst, looking with a saddened look at the sight in front of her. "She took my power. She will die."

This was not how she wanted Agatha to go, and if Rio could do something about it, she would. But the damage had already been done, and it could not be reversed.

Not by her.

You did not even look at Rio, your eyesight blurry from all the tears you failed to hold back as you kept trying to save Agatha; but your magic only seemed slowing down her death... not stopping it.

"I was created to stop her," your bottom lip trembled as you fought back a sob. "Yet I chose to join her... If this means I can save her and if I fail and die... then Agatha and I can be together."

With one last try, with one last spark of hope within; you bent down and kissed Agatha. Your eyes closed as you focused on the kiss, the familiar sensation of her lips against yours fueling the pain in your heart, but you kept going.

Your magic entered her body through the kiss, its powerful energy quickly meeting Rio's darker one; the two forces fighting but ultimately... yours was slowly purifying the toxic for Agatha magic that your lover had willingly absorbed.

Your hands and your body glowed with magic, it's shine so bright that could be seen from the curious humans neighbours that stood in their yards; having noticed the changing sky but having no clue what was taking place.

Usually, your pure magic would harm Agatha; whose dark magic had formed and stained her body even though Wanda drained her. But now, your magic was busy fighting something else, and while winning; it was weakening.

At last, the white glow started to die as an ethereal wave of white magic was flowing gently around you; a semi transparent dom that kept you and your lover within.

And as that magic was fading away, Billy and Rio could see the result of your actions.

You gently pulled back, feeling drained and exhausted; as if you had been fighting for your life for days, little to no energy left to sustain you.

Yet it was all worth it as you looked at Agatha, her hair now a pure white; a side effect of your power. But the colour had returned to her cheeks, her blue eyes glowing with life.

You could not help but smile weakly as you watched her and she watched you. Her hand moved, fingers caressing your cheek in a sweet way, and you leaned on them.

You tried to stand up slowly to give Agatha space and also join you. Your knees felt weak, and as you tried to take a step back, your body gave up on you.

You stared to fall to the side; too weak to remain standing.

Rio was quick to catch you, gently supiering your body with hers; arms protectively holding you, preventing you from slipping off her embrace.

Agatha weakly managed to slowly push her body up; still trying to recover from almost dying and also the remnants of your magic residing within her.

"Leave her alone, Rio," she said weakly, worrying for your well-being after pulling such a stant.

Rio glanced at Agatha but was more focused on you, your breathing silent and your eyes fighting to stay open.

"You stupid girl, giving your gift away like that," she told you.

You smiled weakly, feeling proud that you did and having no regrets.

"And I will keep doing it until you let us all go," you replied weakly, stubborn as ever.

Rio glanced at the new moon above and then at you before leaving out a heavy sigh.

"You are lucky your soul is not mine to reap, babygirl." she pecked your forehead and helped you remain steady on your legs.

Billy, at the same time, helped Agatha to stand; looking with confusion at Rio.

The green witch kept her arm around your waist, unsure if you could stand on your own yet. She looked at Agatha. "One life, no more cheating death," she then looked at Billy. "No more body jumping. When the time comes, no fighting"

Perhaps this was not what the rules said... but not everything was set in stone. Exceptions could be made, at least partially; little loopholes in the grand plan

Rio did it before, and from the looks of it, she had to do it again. She would never admit it, but deep down, she did not truly mind.

You and Agatha muttered too much to lose you so early, especially when, from the looks of it; relationships might have been mended, at least partially.

Billy and Agatha nodded, not wanting to chase their luck further or risk one of you dying for good this time.

Of course, Billy, being the curious boy he was; had to ask one more thing.

"Rio," he called her, trying not to feel intimidated by her sharp look. "I... " he cleared his throat. "What did you mean with what you said? About not being able to take Y/N's soul?"

Lady Death smirked faintly, her fingers gently caressing your cheek. "She is a blessed child. I can't reap her until it is said," she replied vaguely, leaving Billy more confused than before.

Finale I - part 3/3

[A/N] - Finale 2 part 1 will be published the day after, focusing on a better and smuttier ending for Rio, Reader, and Agatha as a triple pair.

[vashs-turtleneck]

Preen.

Rating: T

Pairing: Vash the Stampede x Reader Summary: Caring for Vash when his wings sprout. CW: angst, fluff, blood, mentions of self-harm, Trimax Vash coded. Word Count: 1.4k A/N: man oh man do I love bird men.

Vash normally stays huddled up in his room on days like this. There's times where he's had to spend nights on end locked inside until his feathers would painstakingly slowly go away. He'd sit on his bed (if he even had a bed at the time) and wait until he was back to normal. He wouldn't leave, he wouldn't eat, most of the time he wouldn't even sleep. He'd just sit there, alone, with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company. When it was all over, he'd be in a nest of dusty sheets, surrounded by smears of blood and ripped feathers, with crimson dripping from his back from where he had agonizingly plucked at himself.

A monster, huddled away from sight.

Inhuman.

He would never dare go outside like this.

But of course, when you came around, following closely at his heel at all times, you never allowed him to hide away from you like that. You once came looking for him after his prolonged silence, and you had found him in a pitiful state – eyes rimmed red, bloody nails clutching at his own flesh like it wasn't meant to be on his bones, and most notably, white feathers sprouting from his face and wings spread out from his shoulder blades. 

He was mortified, embarrassed, scared.

This is it. You're going to see what he really is, and you're going to leave.

He went through all the stages of grief when he saw your eyes widen and your steps come to a halt. He was ready to hear your screams of terror and then never see you again. As much as he wanted to hide, he didn't look away. If you were going to run, he wanted to get one last good look at your beautiful face.

But you didn't leave him that night. You stayed awake with him, talking to him, and you had no flicker of fear or disgust when you looked at him. You didn't get too close, you didn't try to touch him, you didn't stare at him too intently (though he's sure you wanted to), and in the morning when his feathers were gone, you took him out to breakfast like it was any other day. Like nothing changed.

It took a long time to build up into letting you see him like this. Apart from that first night when you refused to leave his side after you saw the scratches on his back and the blood under his nails, he only allowed your gaze for brief moments, like when you insisted on bringing him food, and when you'd come back to scold him for not eating it. 

Eventually, you started sitting with him. You wouldn't speak. You'd simply sit in the same space as him, often in a chair in the corner, sometimes on the floor by the bed as you read a book, doodled in a sketchbook, or took a nap. No touches, no words, but still offering him a presence he's never had before when he's felt the furthest from human.

He was the first one to break the silence when he saw you using one of his shedded feathers as a bookmark of all things. You simply responded, “I like it. It's pretty,” like it was the simplest thing in the world. 

It's safe to say that nowadays, if he isn't there to greet you when you come down for breakfast in the mornings, you'll be knocking on his door within the hour.

Tonight, you're sitting on his bed, his back facing you as he sits with his knees to his chest, hiding the cracks in his face from your gaze. Your fingers gently run through his sprouted wings, picking out bits of lint and grains of sand caught in his feathers with a tenderness you always grant him, even when he's like this, when he doesn't even have the heart to look you in the eyes.

“I'm sorry, mayfly.”

“Hush. Don't be silly.”

His wings shift, slowly unfurling from around himself the longer you touch them for, as if trying to nudge into your hands for more. A part of him feels bad for liking the attention, but he doesn't want you to stop, even though the feeling of anyone touching the plumage along his back still feels so foreign to him.

“So soft,” you hum, and he feels the heat rise to his face, his cheeks dusting pink under the cracks and feathers. Something about you saying that makes his chest feel warm, despite how much he hates the part of himself you're referring to.

“You know,” you start to say, pulling his attention back to you as your gentle fingers pluck the dirt from him. “I'd like it if you stopped hiding from me whenever this happens.”

Vash winces at your words. “I don't… like it when you see me like this.” 

Don't look at me.

Don't leave me.

These wings, these feathers, these marks along his face and body – they all feel like some curse. It's not something you should be seeing, but he can't help wanting you here. It almost feels like he has to keep his wings from reaching towards you, like they have a mind of their own.

“I know, and I'm sorry, but I'm not leaving you alone,” you say back, your hands carefully running along the lengths of his wings, your palms smoothing over the feathers, and the feeling sends an involuntary shiver up his spine. “Is it bad if I like seeing you like this?”

“Heh. I don't see why you would. It's… strange. I would never blame you if you wanted to run away.” And he wouldn't. He knows this, and he knows you know this. He's told you far too many times that you should leave, that you shouldn't be around a monster like him, and sometimes he was much meaner than he ever intended to be with you. It's something he'll regret regardless of how many times he's apologized and how many times you've forgiven him. 

He just… doesn't feel like himself when he's in this state. He wants you far away, but he wants you close. He wants to scream and cry and curl in on himself until he disappears, but he wants to wrap himself around you and keep you with him in a nest of feathers until he forgets the outside world exists. His skin crawls and prickles where his feathers sprout from, and sometimes his flesh feels like it's burning, but he aches for the feeling of your hands running through his plumage. It's gotten so, so much worse since you've been around, and he doesn't know why, but he'll keep that bit to himself. No point in making you feel bad for his alien biology when he himself doesn't understand it all.

“I would never run away from you. Hell, half the time I'm struggling to keep up with you,” and his breath hitches when he suddenly feels your arms wrap around his midsection, your head resting against the bed of feathers on his back.

“I think you're beautiful, Vash. With and without wings.”

‘Beautiful.’

What a strange way of describing him.

“You like them…” he mutters quietly, more to himself than to you, like he's trying to wrap his head around what that could possibly mean. He doesn't even notice the way his feathers fluff up and bury your face in his down.

“I do, but I'm more fond of who they're attached to.”

You care, inhuman and all.

He was ready to never see you again after that first night, but you're still here, and you're preening him of all things. You've stitched his wounds, comforted him during his nightmares, held him when he's cried, but this? This is a level of intimacy he's not familiar with. It's vulnerable and selfless and loving and… so much more than he deserves, but you’re doing it for him. He has no way of repaying all the ways you've healed him. His wounds are still there, and they're far too deep to ever hope for the scars to completely fade, but your presence alone is a soothing balm he doesn't think he could ever live without again.

One day, maybe he'll look you in the eyes when you take care of him like this. Maybe he'll turn around and let you card your fingers through the feathers on his cheeks. Maybe after that, maybe when you're taking a nap, he'll hold you close in his arms like he wants to and envelop you in feathers, and he'll show you, despite how much he wishes they weren't there, how warm his wings can be.

divider source.

[diorcities]

you enter your room, after taking a shower. you put the lock on the door, feeling the wind blow from the open window, hitting your body with a cold breeze. you hug yourself before going to close it, to proceed and dress up in your pajamas, freezing in place when you remember something; the window was closed when you went to take a shower.

the ringing sound of your phone makes a spasm attack you. “hello?” you pick it up, heading to the closet. “i wouldn't open the closet if i were you.” the voice makes your blood go cold. your fingers almost touching the doorknob, before contracting them into a fist, which you bring to your chest. “w-what?”.

“what's your favorite scary movie?” the line goes silent, as you battle for finding your voice. feet receding towards the exit of the room. “don't you dare, doll.” you froze, feeling the fear steals your breath. but... doll. that word. you're more than sure you heard that before.

your feet return to the closet, “you’ll regret this.” your hands reach out to the doorknob right before the door wide open, and a shadow emerges from the darkness. he charges against you, hands covered in black gloves, grabbing yours and pinning you on the wall. his grip is firm, yet painless, as his body presses into you, he gets closer to your face. you sigh in relief and annoyance when he starts making sounds of kisses under the creepy mask before you brush him off. he finds it funny. “c'mon, it was a joke.” he follows you around the room. you dodge him on your way to the closet, finally dressing up. “not funny,” you say.

he huffs behind your back.

“don't get mad about it.”

“you scared me for a moment,” confess, facing him. he looks down at you, removing the mask. hair wild and messy before he brush it off, showing his angular features contract in repent. “shit, sorry, i was stupid. i apologize.” you study him, finally giving up. when he see your face smoothing out, he reaches out to you. hands finding your waist. “why are you dressed like that, anyway?”

“isn't it obvious?,” he asks, forcing you to move with him backward, until your back bumps into the wall. “you like ghostface.” looking up at him, you find the small golden halo that outlines his figure, and also creating shadows on his face. “i do,” you concede. “mmm… what can we do about it?” he asks, pensive. he smiles when he finds the answer, “all yours.”

you press your hands on his chest, pushing him towards the bed. “look at you, so pretty, soaking wet,” he says, holding his body in his elbows, at the time his face approaches to you, kissing you passionately. after a long kiss, your hands go to the towel, breaking the kiss to toss it away. he groans in despair, drawing you back to him, kissing you more eagerly. you feel him remove his hands for less than a second. your now naked body being touched everywhere by his bare hands. groping your thighs, breast, and waist.

you grind against him, making him laugh under his breath, a cocky smile joining when he hisses. with a quick move, he pushes you against the bed, hovering over you and attacking your mouth in fiery kisses. teeth biting lips and warm tongue invading your mouth in the intense kiss that form a rock in your stomach, every time. his hands massage your breast, pinching your hard nipples. “oh, god,” you moan when his lips leave your mouth and start spreading kisses all the way down to your core. legs already spread open.

your hands go to his hair when he expels hot air in your pussy. tongue already starting to work on you. licking and glancing at your face. hearing your pretty moans filling the room. murmuring into your sweetness how good you taste. how wet you are for him. “so pretty, moaning like that. don't stop, okay,” he says. every lash of his tongue and every flick driving you to the epitome of ecstasy. he left you shivering watching you pass your high, still between your legs. licking your arousal.

you let out a whimper when he grabs your ankles and draws you closer to him, using his body strength to flip you over. lifting your hips in the position he wants. “now be nice and take me, yeah?,” he says, introducing his length in your pussy. your hands turn into fits, adjusting to his thick cock. your mouth being part open in a frozen moan, as he starts pounding into you in short, hard thrusts. cock burying deeper every time, making you a mess of babbling and choppy sounds. eyes shut as he mercilessly fucks you.

you're pressed into the mattress due to his hands holding you down, furious and fierce thrusts, fucking your pussy, senseless. the unbearable feeling spreading through your nerves, blurring your mind. senses fuzzy and brain clouded by the sound of his hips impacting against yours. you quiver under his mighty touch, as your stress releases in tears, feeling his cock hitting your spot, over and over again.

“i'm s-so close.” your back arch, pressing your chest into the mattress and lifting your butt, grinding against him. “feels good?” he wants to know, his cock hitting a new angle. “f-fuck��� yes,” you cry, holding the sheets. “you better not cum until i tell you to,” he orders, holding your waist, and tattooing his fingers on your skin because of how hard he's grabbing you. “you're taking me so good, doll.” his voice full of lust groaning and swearing at your pussy tightening him up so well. “fuck!” you whimper. his movements cease to be so precise and become fast and sloppy thrusts. “i'm gonna cum,” he says in a whine. “be a good girl and take my cum, huh?,” he asks, “would you be able to take it?.”

“p-please, yes!.” your pussy tightens to his words. 

he pounds into you a few times more, slapping your ass the moment you release around his cock. wrapping his dick in your pulsing walls, feeling him painting your insides with his cum. he uses your clenching and throbbing pussy for a few more thrusts, milking his cock. hands spreading your legs to see his arousal leaking from your cunt.

he hears you mumbling under your breath, approaching you. body still suffering from the aftermath of your orgasm. “what did you say, doll?.”

“now with the mask on.”

[nanamiscocksleeve]

Kinktober request

23 (Degradation) with GN!R making a bet that they can beat Gojo in some spar, and that if they lose then Gojo can do whatever he wants with them.

Gojo accepts, wins, then degrades R while roughly throatfucking R with his huge cock.

Hello again! Since blowjob was another kink on the list, this was written with only the first part in mind.

Warnings: rough sex, derogatory name-calling

Degradation

--------

You should have known better before making this bet. Now you're suffering at the hands of Gojo who had no problem in turning into a fucking sadist now that he had free rein. The vibrator was snugly placed on a sensitive pleasure spot and you were writhing from its effects.

"Thought you were stronger than me huh you pathetic little whiner?" Satoru smirks down at your lowered position, on your knees at his feet. "I think you need to be taught a lesson so that you never make that assumption again."

He roughly grabs your hair and jerks your chin up. "Look at me. I want to watch how desperate you get as you get closer to orgasm."

You let out a pathetic whine like an injured dog as the vibrator brings you to a peak and you fall off the edge gasping, waves of pleasure wracking your body. Impressively, you manage to keep looking into Satoru's eyes while you climax despite how embarrassed it makes you feel. Your arousal fluids drip onto the floor from your spasming body. When the last dregs of pleasure wash away you look at him with imploring eyes hoping he'll remove the vibrator.

"Did I give you permission to cum?" Satoru asks in a dangerously low voice and you feel a thrill of fear and arousal spread through you. He clicks the vibrator off with the press of a button then strikes your ass, making you cry out. A red impression of his hand is visible on your round cheek.

"You're such a dumb whore, unable to follow simple instructions. And you've made such a mess on the floor." He gazes at the small puddle that had formed from your climax, then flips you over onto your back.

"And now you're a cum mop, and you're going to clean up the mess you made." He drags your body across the fluid, and you feel your back slicken as you pass over it. Once he's satisfied, Satoru leaves on the floor covered in your own juices and starts the vibrator again. You shriek at the high intensity, body being pushed into overstimulation.

You knew you wouldn't last long and tears form in your eyes. "Master...please..."

"Please what you useless slut?"

"Please let me cum..." You struggle against the toy trying not to cum before he gave you permission.

"Oh, the dumb little cunt knows how to ask for permission! Very good!" Satoru claps sarcastically and your body tenses, quivering from the effort of holding in your orgasm.

"Fine, go ahead and cum. It's the only thing you're good for anyway," Satoru taunts, and you take a breath before letting out a shuddering cry you orgasm again, your whole body feeling like it's one oversensitized ball of nerves.

You sigh in relief as the toy is turned off again, but gulp as Satoru's shoes come in line of your vision.

"We're not done yet. We're going to keep going until all of your holes are thoroughly used to ensure my pleasure and satisfaction."

[cloudybarnes]

Private Encounters

Pairing: Cardan Greenbriar x reader

Summary: you were tired of Cardan constantly attacking you and your friends. one day, though, Cardan asks to speak with you privately, and no good things could come from the prince of elfhame wanting to speak with you with no one else around

Word Count: 2.4k

Masterlist

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"Hurry up, you guys! We're gonna be late again!" Taryn whisper-shouted as you and Jude trailed behind her towards the courtyard.

Usually, you two went alone on your adventures, but Taryn decided she wanted to be spontaneous, too, and wanted to join along. Unfortunately, she didn't seem to have that much fun, and urged you back to class almost as soon as you got there.

"Who cares if we're late?" Jude rolled her eyes. "It's not like anyone would really care."

"Just because they don't like us, doesn't mean I want to draw their attention. Who knows what they'll do." Taryn shifted the picnic basket of food between her hands, nervously. She was always the most cautious of you three; always fearing what they would say or do to you guys.

You scoffed, "Taryn, let's be real. Even if we were there on time and minded our own business, Cardan and his little fanclub would still find some reason to bother us."

Jude chuckled, "he's so insufferable. What I wouldn't do to wipe that idiotic grin off his face."

You laughed, "I'm right there with you. It's like his greatest pleasure is being annoying."

"I don't know." Taryn slows her speed walk to match pace with Jude and I. "I feel like Cardan mostly has it out for you, now, (Y/N)."

You rolled my eyes.

"Oh yeah," Jude agreed. "Ever since we became friends, he's like diverted the hatred for us onto you."

You laughed, "Wow, thanks guys. Who knew being your friend would make a prince despise me."

Jude laughed too. "I don't think it was all our fault. You're human, so he would have hated you anyway."

"That's so reassuring, thanks for that."

Jude smirked, "anytime."

When we finally emerged onto the courtyard where class was taking place, most everyone ignored you, save for the professor.

"Ah," he said, "nice of you three to join us. Please find a seat so we can continue on with our lessons of astronomy."

Taryn bowed her head to keep from looking at anyone. You noticed Jude did not bow her head, but she would not look at the other students.

You, however, must be an idiot to not follow along with them, because your gaze falls straight to Cardan, who is staring back at you with much ferocity.

As the even bigger idiot you are, you do not avert your gaze, but simply glare back at him. To that, and small, devilish grin grows on his face. It almost seems like an invite of this little game you play. He hates you and your friends, goes out of his way to torment you three, and for that, you refuse to back down. Sometimes, you think he likes that you fight him so much.

"(Y/N)," Taryn calls, quietly as to avoid too much attention. She waves you over. Only then do you realize you've been staring at Cardan so long that Jude and Taryn have already set up the blanket and started spreading out the food.

Your cheeks heat as you walk the few feet to where they are sitting. You can hear Cardan snicker as you walk past him and Nicasia.

"What were you thinking!" Taryn scolds as you finally sit down on the blanket. Your professor continues with his lecture, but you don't even bother to pay attention to him.

You shrug, "I'm not really sure. I just can't stand him so much it makes me crazy."

Jude laughs at that. "I'm so glad we're friends, (Y/N). I think I'd go crazy if I didn't have someone else to share my hatred for Cardan with."

You giggle, "well it's a good thing I'm here, then, huh?"

"I don't think anyone is happy you're here."

Looking up from where you're sitting, you see Nicasia and Cardan looming down over you. Seems like the lesson is over as everyone else has abandoned the courtyard.

"Oh, Nicasia, always a pleasure." You rolled your eyes as you stood up. Behind you, you hear the shuffling of Jude standing and pulling Taryn up with here. "To what do we owe you coming over here and bothering us for?"

She smirked, "I have no reason for being near you filthy mortals other than to make sure you stay in your place. You don't belong here. You're frail, and worthless, and someone needs to remind you of that."

You mocked her with a laugh, "is that really all you've got?"

Taryn let out a quiet gasp.

Nicasia narrowed her eyes. "What did you say?"

You shrugged. "All I'm saying is you give the same excuse every time you come over here. 'I'm putting you in your place', 'make sure you know what a worthless mortal you are'. Blah, blah, blah. It's very redundant, Nicasia, and quite truthfully, it's just tiresome." You said condescendingly.

The fire is her eyes was hot. Her fists balled at her side as she glared at you.

Now, it's not like you were looking for trouble, or that you wanted anything bad to happen to you or your friends. You just could not stand the way she and Cardan always came over to you and caused problems.

The slap was expected. Your cheek burned as Nicasia's hand left your face. Taryn couldn't hold back the very audible gasp that left her lips. Looking back to your friends, Taryn looked utterly frightened, and Jude looked angrier than you'd ever seen her.

Right as Nicasia was about to slap you again, Cardan interrupted her.

"Nicasia," Cardan warned as he lifted his hand, "that is quite enough."

You scoffed. "Oh, and since when are you ever the peace maker?"

Cardan smirked, "Since Nicasia decided she was going to slap you. I quite like your face the way it is."

All heads turned to Cardan as he said that. Nicasia looked hurt, Taryn looked almost as confused as you felt, and Jude just looked disgusted.

You narrowed my eyes at Cardan, despite your confusion. "What games are you playing at, Greenbriar?"

His eyebrows shot up in delightful surprise. A cheeky smirk playing on his lips. "I have no games, (Y/L/N)." He spat out your last name like it disgusted but also intrigued him.

He looked between Nicasia, Jude and Taryn. "You, leave us. I have a few words for (Y/N)."

Jude and Taryn looked at each other, confused and contemplating if they should leave or not. You stood your ground though.

"I'll be fine, guys. I'll just meet you back at Madoc's, okay?" You tried to reassure them, though you weren't exactly sure what you were getting yourself into. All you knew was that you didn't want Cardan to know he frightened you.

Jude nodded her head. "We won't be far. And Cardan," she turned to him, "if you so much as touch one hair on her head, I will-"

"Oh relax, would you, Jude? Always resolving your issues with murder." Cardan rolled his eyes. "Leave us. Now."

Jude glared at Cardan before turning to you and giving you a reassuring look. Just as quickly, she turned away and pulled Taryn off with her.

"And you," Cardan said as he turned to Nicasia. "I believe I ordered you away, as well."

Nicasia looked shocked. "Me? Why would I need to be sent away? Whatever punishment you have for the way she spoke to me, I want-"

"Leave, Nicasia. I won't ask you again."

Stunned, Nicasia's mouth hung open just slightly as she looked between you and Cardan. With a 'hmph', Nicasia turned on her heel and strutted away, leaving behind just Cardan and you.

The two of you stood there in silence. You gazed up at him, trying to decipher why he could possibly want to speak with you alone. Maybe he wants to kill you. Maybe he's grown tired of this cat and mouse game you have going on.

"What do you want, Cardan?"

He smirked, and took a daring step closer to you. "I just wanted to talk with you. You're... interesting. I find you intriguing to say the least."

You raised my brow in confusion. "You find me intriguing? Now I know you're toying with me. What do you really want, Cardan?"

He scoffed. "Is it that hard for you to admit that I might find you interesting?"

"How interesting could I possibly be? I'm mortal, remember? Can't believe you would forget, not after you and your friends made it your entire personalities to constantly remind me of my mortality and how worthless you believe me to be."

Cardan's smirk only grew. "You are quite right. You're mortal. Mortals by nature are fragile, slow, susceptible to our tricks, and yet you seem to be quite the opposite."

Your eyebrows shot up, completely shocked by this sort-of compliment you just received from the Prince of Elfhame.

Cardan continued before you could even get a word out. "I dislike mortals quite a bit. I think they are weak. They have little skill that is worth anything, and they are often succumbed to the nature of our people. You, however, are quite different, (Y/N)."

He took a tender step closer to you. Your breath was caught in your throat. Cardan had never shown any type of interest in you. You thought he'd never actually shown anything other than disgust towards you, but maybe you were wrong.

Maybe all of those teasing smirks and cruel comments were him testing you, trying to figure out just how far he could push you.

"You've stood up to me. You've been given every chance to back down. I've seen how far you are willing to go to defend yourself and those little friends of yours. I find it admirable in a way."

You force out a laugh. "You find it admirable? Everything you consider so 'strong' and 'admirable' about me is what I've had to do to survive this place. You've done nothing but make living here just that much harder than it already is for mortals."

You strode closer to Cardan, persistence on your face. His eyes widened slightly, but the daring smirk never faltered from his lips.

Just as you two were chest to chest, you spoke, "answer now, Cardan, what is it you really wanted to tell me?"

"I've already told you, (Y/N). I think you're admirable. I think you're intriguing. I think there is something about you that keeps drawing me in. Something so pulling, it's frustrating how much I think of you."

No words left your mouth. How could they when your jaw laid open the way it was.

Cardan chuckled. "Now, another reason I wanted you here. I must ask: I know you mortals can lie, something we folk can not do, but how are you so good at pretending?"

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly. "Pretending?"

Cardan's smirk only grew, "pretending you aren't in love with me, that is."

The world had stopped. It felt like your entire world had shattered. This was quite possibly the last thing you thought Cardan would get you alone for.

Anyone with eyes could see that Cardan Greenbriar was gorgeous. All of his kind were gorgeous, but he had exceptional beauty. Beside that, you couldn't find one characteristic about him that you had liked. Sure, maybe he stopped Nicasia from hurting you further than she would have. And by the way Jude recalled his cruelty before they met you, it seemed to have subsided quite a bit since you met him. That still doesn't change the fact that he is cruel, and has been for a long time.

"Cat got your tongue?"

You shook your head clear from your thoughts. "No. Just confused how you could possibly think I would be in love with you."

"You want to know how I know you're in love with me, despite what you might believe?" Cardan grinned and closed the already small space between you two. "Because I know how insufferable you find me. I know how I get under your skin, how you lay awake thinking of how much you hate me. I know this because I feel the same towards you, and despite my feelings of irritation with you, I still find myself completely infatuated by you."

"You are?" You questioned, voice so quiet you might barely have heard it, but Cardan sure did.

He grinned. "Oh, yes. I have been infatuated with you from the moment I laid eyes on you. I wasn't lying earlier when I told Nicasia I'd like her to leave your face the way it is. I think you are pretty for a mortal. You give off this glow and iridescence. You are unlike any other mortal I've come across. The way you've kept me up at night, the way I am excited to see you just to have our little spat had me confused for the longest time. Eventually, I just couldn't take it anymore and I’ve decided to act on it."

You couldn't take it anymore. Everything Cardan said resonated so deeply with you. Somehow he knew exactly how you felt. The way you hated him, the way you were angry with yourself when you thought of him so often, everything he said he felt is exactly what you were going through as well.

You decided, if Cardan was going to act on his confusing feelings, you would act on yours as well.

Already chest to chest, you reached up and gripped Cardan hair, tight enough to hurt, and kissed him with all of the pent up anger and hatred for him you had.

If Cardan was surprised, he didn't seem it. He gripped onto your waist and kissed you back with so much ferocity it made your knees weak.

It was hot, and it was unlike any kiss you've ever had before. Kissing Cardan was unleashing something so deep inside of you. All of your confused feelings for him wrapped up all into a long-awaited kiss.

Gasping for air, you and Cardan separated, though not fully. While you were no longer kissing, you had yet to pull your fingers from the tangles of his hair, and he had no plans of letting go of his hold on your waist.

"I still hate you," you said breathlessly.

Cardan smiled, he actually smiled and replied, "I think I hate you more."

[dreadsuitsamus]

Will | Vegeta x Reader |

author's note: this is for the always lovely @miss-taura! i hope you're starting to feel better, or that you start getting better quickly!! rest and hydrate 🩷

pairing: vegeta x fem!reader

warnings: saiyan!reader, illness, mentions of death, mentions of frieza doing frieza things

Anxiety clings to Vegeta's stomach as he marches to your room on the Frieza station— you weren't at dinner tonight. It's unlike you, unlike any Saiyan warrior, and worry nags the Prince to his bones.

Of the Saiyans left, you're certainly his favorite. The bar is low, with your competition being Nappa and the Radish-boy, but you're still quite the cut above them. And your lack of presence is irritating, rude, and above all worth a princely tantrum.

Pounding on your door, his patience is too worn thin to properly wait for an answer. You haven't responded with the half second between his harsh knocks, so obviously he's got every single right to invite himself in. It's dark but his scouter clearly marks your exact position in your bed, and he hears your soft groan as the light from the hall floods in.

"What the hell, 'Geets?" Congestion plagues your sinuses, and a fever leaves you with harsh shivers as you glare at Vegeta with blurry eyes.

Vegeta scoffs and narrows his eyes as he steps further in, kicking the door shut behind him. "More like what the hell is up with you. You skipped dinner."

You cough into your shirt, flopping down pathetically onto your pillow. "I'm not hungry."

"A Saiyan is always hungry." Vegeta's arms cross over his broad chest as he tilts his head— he's not sure if he's ever seen you sick, or anybody else on this ship, for that matter.

A cold trickle of fear suddenly drips down his spine; Frieza certainly would find no use in nursing any of his army back to health, and absolutely wouldn't tolerate a particular bug spreading amongst the force.

He can't lose you like this.

Too tired to argue with him, you wave a hand in Vegeta's general direction. "Leave me be, 'Geets."

Vegeta nearly growls— you're far too uncaring. Do you have a death wish? He storms out of the room and you're far too ill to wonder what's gotten into him before another terrible coughing fit assaults you again.

Your consciousness fades in and out, though the next time you come to for longer than mere seconds, it's at Vegeta's shaking of your shoulder. His touch isn't particularly gentle, the rare occurrence never really is, but you can feel his effort of holding back. "Mmm…?"

"Sit up and eat, and take this too." A platter from the dining hall sits on the nightstand beside your bed, and a small caplet is flicked your way.

"Where did you find medicine?" Throat scratchy and burning at even breathing, a soft cough follows your question.

"It matters not. Just use it."

So he broke an international law somewhere, got it.

Your legs rub together unconsciously, begging the resulting friction for warmth. A Saiyan rarely feels so chilled, but it's as if you're iced to your very bones. Vegeta's jaw ticks and he doesn't put much thought into the why before he's stripped off a glove and pressed the back of his rarely-revealed hand against your forehead. His memories of his mother are frighteningly fading, but that is one of the few that holds strong and he can clearly remember of his late mother. He was young and felt awful for perhaps the first time in his life, and her gentle hand measuring his fever did wonders as a cure compared to all the bedrest and tonics.

Your watery eyes meet with Vegeta's as he moves to touch each cheek, his knuckles dragging along your skin and bumping over your nose. Eyes guarded, he turns his head and pulls back his palm. "You're running a fever. Eat now, and take the medicine. You're to be cured by tomorrow, understand?"

This motherfucker is giving my illness orders!

Opting for a dumb nod, your attention focuses on what he's brought you. Nothing too capable of potentially upsetting your stomach, it's easy to devour even with your fatigue crawling back by the second and the shivering from your fever slowly icing you more and more. You can hardly even notice Vegeta's too-quiet demeanor as he stares a hole into the carpeted floor, though to not see such a stoic side of the rather bratty, barbarous man that typically wears a smile of evil would be impossible.

"Done." Voice hardly capable of more than a whisper now, you set the plate aside and, large pill laid out on your tongue, finish off the first of the gallons of water he's thoughtfully provided you.

"Rest." His order is swift and gruff as he turns to leave, but your voice, quiet and unsure, calls for him to linger just a bit longer.

"T-Thank you, V-Vegeta." The tremors of your body are harsh enough to make your teeth audibly clash together, and the thin blanket wrapped around you couldn't possibly be enough to dispel this fever.

Breaking the fever will allow the medicine to work, and a little sigh pulls from his lips. You certainly always manage to break down a barrier he places, and usually it's fully unintentional and unknowing. But he cannot lose the last woman in his life, the last of the Saiyan race, and that's what has him stripping to his underwear and climbing into bed with you.

"'Geets…"

"Speak not a word further. Rest." He grumbles and unravels your wrapped form, inserting himself under the blanket with you. The heat radiating from him nearly makes your head spin as you grab the Prince's body despite how unbecoming this all is. The touch of his body isn't exactly foreign, though it certainly is in the manner of comfort rather than the training you've always known.

Vegeta's hold is tight. It's his duty as your Prince to keep you alive, though the warming of his cheeks when he gets a glimpse of your sleeping face suggests to himself it may not be as noble as he wishes.

[dimonds456]

Billford and Abuse: An Analysis

Honestly, as someone who ships both Billford and Fiddauthor, the thing I like about the toxic yaoi ship is the fact that it IS toxic. Like, the jokes are great, but its depiction of abuse is so, like... genuine. Without getting personal, I've been in a really fucking bad toxic (platonic) relationship before, and Billford deadass helped me come to terms with it.

Cuz here's the thing: most fictional abusive relationships just start with the abuse itself. It shows the victim and the perpetrator at the height (or almost at the height) of the abuse, and we see as either one of them is destroyed by it or the victim becomes free. But Billford actually shows the WHOLE timeline.

Something that bothers me about a lot of fictional abuse reps is the fact that you cannot sympathize with the victim aside from "aw that's horrible :(". Cuz it just starts AT the abuse. We don't see how they got there or what's causing the victim to stay. We just know they need to escape.

But with Billford, we see EVERYTHING. How it started out as something Ford genuinely loved, seeing Bill as a friend and someone he could trust, how it made him feel better because he was actually making progress on his research and he wasn't lonely anymore.

To Ford during those early days, Bill was the highlight of his time in Gravity Falls. We can follow his train of thought exactly to where he let Bill possess him with basically no strings attached (pun intended).

That's what makes it all the more devastating. Bill isolated Ford from everyone. He sabotaged his friendship with Fiddleford by planting that seed of doubt in the engineer and pulling Ford further and further into his plans. Then the thing with the portal happened and Ford had NOWHERE to go. Plus, Bill kept trying to get Ford to stop thinking about Stan, to move on and let him rot. So he kept planting seeds of doubt in his own brother as well, causing Ford to further and further slip away.

Then Ford confronts Bill. And the monster is unleashed.

Once Bill realizes he's lost control of Ford's devotion and the illusion has shattered, Bill just LEANS into it. In order to take control back, he started tormenting Ford and just being horrible to him, to try and make him fall in line. Love and fear ARE right next to each other in the brain, after all. And there's NOTHING Ford can do but just fall further and further into paranoia.

Bill demonstrates many real-world abusive/manipulative tactics on Ford, the big one being isolation, since that allows the rest of the everything to even happen, but the way he turns Ford against LITERALLY EVERYONE using paranoia is really true to real life.

Now obviously your toxic boyfriend cannot possess random strangers irl. But you know what he CAN do? Start spreading rumors behind your back. Stalk you. Harass you. Make you feel unsafe everywhere except home (which isn't safe either, but it's better than the outside world). He can spend your money or break your things. Slash your tires. In Ford's case, LITERALLY abusing his body. There's the sticky notes, the threats, the roof incident, all of it just piling one atop the other.

I cannot imagine how fucking terrified Ford must have been to finally send that postcard to Stanley. He was at a point where he assumed Stan would hate him, or at the very least wouldn't respond so why even bother, and he'd just gotten the "steal your eyes" threat. He was out of options, and was absolutely sure he was putting Stan in danger by getting him involved (another irl abuse thing that happens).

He was scared to reach out for help because 1) he didn't want others getting hurt (like Fidds had), 2) he was ashamed he'd let this happen, and 3) he, on some level, felt like he deserved this.

Justified? To a paranoid, scared, abused, irrational brain: Absolutely. In reality? Never. But HE'D built that portal. HE'D allowed Bill to possess his body basically freely. HE'D basically helped start the apocalypse. And that shame would have lead to SO much self-hatred and despair.

His reaching out to Stan was his last resort, his only way out. THAT'S what intrigues me about the ship so much.

I do not want them to make up and get back together. They're horrible for each other. But I do enjoy exploring the dynamic of it, fully seeing the cycle and how it happens, and seeing a whole new side to Ford that we only caught a glimpse of in the show and Journal 3. Plus Bill but his side is more comedic and sad to me I do not take him seriously FSDGHJ

The jokes are great and I love it here, but if I ever write a fic or draw art for these two it's going to be toxic as hell man. And not in the fun way fgsjd

[brummiereader]

Hi everyone I'm back with another series! This is going to be a Dark!Tommy series, that some readers may find triggering, so I really wanted to give you all a warning beforehand. Overtime the following potential triggers will become more apparent...manipulative behaviour, psychological mind games, toxic relationship, controlling behaviour, violence, and psychological abuse.

Killing Me Softly (PART ONE/ DARK!TOMMY)

Summary: Reader is arranged to marry the notorious gangster of Small Heath Tommy Shelby. Going into the marriage with an open heart she soon realises he is not the man she once knew. How long will she be able to endure his cruel games?

Warnings: Angst, fluff, violence, language, psychological mind games, manipulative behaviour, Dark!Tommy (This is a dark series, please read the warnings before continuing)

Writers note: Inspired by this ominous version of the song "Killing me Softly" by Aretha Franklin. Just to note, we follow off from the intro later on in the series.

"Y/N Ohh Y/N...come on love, I'm not gonna hurt you" He said taunting you, as you heard him open each door along the dimly lit hallway on the second floor of your home Arrow House. His heavy foot steps walked slowly along the wooden floorboards as he checked each room looking, searching...for you.

Hiding under the bottom shelf of a small closet room, you made yourself as small as you could possibly get. Shaking, tears streaming down your face you brought your knees up to your chest clutching yourself, hoping and praying he wouldn't find you.

"Come out come out wherever you are, I'll count to ten you can't be far.

Under the bed, behind a door, was that a creak I heard on the floor?

I'll shout and call out your name, but you'll keep quiet, it's part of the game.

Come out come out wherever you are, I'll count to ten you can't be far...Ohh Y/N..."

Snapping your head up, you listened to the nursery rhyme as it echoed loudly through the corridor. Once an innocent song you used to sing as a child whilst playing hide-and-seek, now a menacing taunt filled with unspoken threats. All of a sudden his cruel singing came to a stop. Hearing the creaking floorboards just outside the door, your eyes widened in terror.

" You know I'll win...i always did" you heard him say in a deep menacing voice as you covered your mouth trying to silence your heavy breathing. You watched intently as his dark shadow moved underneath the door, with your whole body trembling, you bit down on your bottom lip, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to escape. Putting your hand to your chest you breathed a silent sigh of relief as you heard his intimidating footsteps move on.

"I don't like to be teased sweetheart!" he said loudly, annoyed, as he slammed a door shut in frustration. Jolting at the sudden noise your foot slid against the floor hitting the wall in front you. Shit. Silence filled the house, the noise of his footsteps absent from your ears. Taking your hand away from your mouth, you reached out to bring your knee back into your chest, only to gasp in fear as you heard one single creak of the floorboards just outside the closet door.

"Peekaboo..." he said tilting his head as he opened the door, a sinister smile spread across his face, a bloodied knife in his hand.

"Come on now, darling" he said as he dragged you kicking and screaming out the small dark room by your night dress.

" Tommy please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, wait...wait!"

One Month Before...

An arranged marriage. If anyone would have told you this is what you had agreed to this time last year, you would have laughed in their face at their preposterous suggestion. But yet here you was, two weeks away from marrying your childhood friends brother, Tommy Shelby. You had spent most of your early life at the Shelby's house, you being close friends with Ada, you would see Tommy almost every day. Maybe that's why you had agreed to the proposition so willingly, you knew Tommy, you grew up with him, a small affection grew over the years for him, and you trusted him, or at least...you thought you did. It was a cascade of events over many years that had led up to the day when Tommy's Aunt, Polly Gray, proposed the arrangement. Your father dying in combat was the start of everything that eventually went wrong, then when your mother moved you both to London to escape the constant reminders of your late father, her health started to deteriorate. The grief of losing him had taken a tremendous toll on your mother's body, unable to work anymore, and with only a war widows pension, you had to take on extra hours working in a press factory as your mother stayed home, you were barely getting by. Now you found yourselves back in Small Heath, back home, back in search for easier times. Hearing of your mother's ill health and your struggle to find employment, Polly Gray a friend of the family, re-entered you lives, offering you help when no one else would.

The proposition Polly made at first, was not one of marriage, but one of employment, you was to work in the Shelby Company Limited offices as a secretary, but when Tommy caught wind of his Aunt's plans and the knowledge of your return to Small Heath, with no need of another secretary he proposed a different arrangement, one of marriage. A wife in return for the financial support of your mother and the help she so desperately needed, that was the offer Polly came to you with that late spring day, the day your whole life changed.

Arranged marriages were not unheard of in the 1920s, and Tommy being a man who had so little time to find a wife, found himself needing one. He didn't particularly want one, but he needed one if he was ever going to rub shoulders with the people he wanted to do business with. With a wife by his side, he would be able to portray himself as a stable family man, an image he needed to paint to finally be taken seriously by the circle of people he wanted to be acquainted with, or at least, that's what he told everyone. You had very little family left, most of them having died in the war or from illness, your mother was the only immediate family you had. With no other options, your mother's health worsening, and no money to pay for the doctors she so badly needed, you had willingly agreed to the arrangement without much hesitation. An almost transactional agreement, but one you entered into with an open mind and heart, naively thinking that this arrangement would eventually turn into a loving marriage... how wrong you would be.

"I'm ready" you said as you straightened out your white summer dress.

" You look beautiful darling" your mother replied as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

" I'm sorry I can't come with you" your mother said as she handed you your small black purse.

"It's ok, you're not feeling well, get some rest ok?" You said as you kissed her cheek. Saying goodbye you opened the front door and walked out onto the busy streets of Small Heath. It was summer and surprisingly a beautiful day in the small Birmingham town. The sun breaking through the thick smoke of the factory chimneys, beamed down on your skin as you walked the ten minute journey to Watery Lane. Your thoughts turning in your head, you started to doubt your decision. What if he doesn't like me ? What if this doesn't work out? Does he even remember me? It was so long ago, you couldn't even remember what he looked like. Walking across to the next street you was now on Watery Lane. Standing in front of the door you straightened out your posture as you painted on a smile, before you could even knock, the door flew open.

"Are you Tommy's wife?" A small boy with a peaked cap and muddy knees said, as he opened the door.

"Not yet she's not" Polly said moving the boy out the way as she ushered you in, planting a kiss to your cheek.

" Polly" you said hugging her, smiling as she welcomed you into the house.

" Come sit down dear" she said as she pulled out a chair for you at the round table in the middle of the room.

" Hello you" you heard a voice say from behind you.

"Ada!" You said turning around, as she bent down to give you a hug.

" Look at you!" she said smiling to you, as she brushed your hair away from your shoulder " You're a beauty Y/N, Polly isn't she just beautiful?" She said turning to her Aunt.

" That she is, Tommy's one lucky man" she replied smiling to you with a wink. Sitting down in front of you, she poured you each a glass of whiskey.

" Bit of Dutch courage" she said handing you the glass, which your gratefully took, downing it in one go.

" Steady on!" Ada giggled covering her mouth, "You're not marrying the Devil himself" she laughed once again.

" Nervous?" Polly asked, as she looked at your anxious face, reaching out for your hand.

" A little...Polly what if this doesn't wor..." you said only to be interrupted by the small boy from before.

"Tommy's here!" He shouted as he ran through the kitchen knocking over one of the wooden chairs.

" Finn out!" Polly demanded, pointing to the stairs as he stomped up them, his arms folded, a grumpy thrown forming on his face.

" Ello ello" Arthur announced as he entered the room, John not far behind him.

"There she is" he said reaching out to hug you. " You've grown" he said motioning up and down your body with his hand, his eyes stopping at your chest as he cleared his throat.

" Move over you old perv" John said with a big smile, his arms stretched out to hug you.

"John" you said, hugging him tightly. Being closer in age, you and John had always gotten along, he was like a brother to you, often the first to come to you if you ever needed help. Turning his head around, John moved out the way as Tommy walked into the room. Taking his peaked cap off, his eyes immediately scanned the room, looking for you.

"Y/N" he said walking towards you, giving you a small kiss to the cheek, his hand resting on your hip. Now a young woman, Tommy was taken aback by your beauty.

"Tommy" you said nervously as your breath hitched in your throat. The boy you remembered was gone, instead a grown man stood before you, a face aged by war, a presence that demanded respect, he walked into the room with authority and power, and you couldn't help but look away from his intimidating statue. Smiling to you, trying to ease the tension, Tommy gently placed his hand on your back, gesturing for you to sit down as he sat down in the empty chair beside you. With everyone now around the table you talked about your time in London, everything but the impending wedding, that was until Arthur brought it up.

" You'll be a Shelby in a few weeks" he said winking to you, as he took a sip of whiskey.

" Think you can handle our Tom, Y/N?" John interjected, chuckling.

" Yeh, I think I can handle him " you said laughing, trying to make light of the situation as you turned to see Tommy eyeing you from head to toe, his mouth slightly open as his eyes then landed on yours.

"Good luck to you Y/N, Tommy's not the easiest to get along with, are you Tom?" John chuckled as he put his elbows on the table, leaning in closer to you.

"Shut up John" Tommy said, clearly bothered by his teasing. Shifting in your seat, you looked down nervously at your hands.

"Tom's just a bit hot headed sometimes Y/N" Arthur said as he poured himself another whiskey ." Anyway, things will go just fine for you two, Tom here, used to have a little crush on..."

"Right, you all done, hm?" Tommy said interrupting, looking at each of his brothers, his brows raised in annoyance, as both of them put their hands up in defence, unable to hold back their laughs.

" Come on, let's leave them to it" Polly said as she ushered everyone out the small kitchen. With just you and Tommy now alone, a small silence filled the room as he lit a cigarette.

" What are siblings for if they don't give you a hard time" you said smiling to him, breaking the silence.

"You're not gonna give me a hard time are you?" He said turning to you, mischief playing in his eyes.

" No. No..." you said slightly flustered.

"But you think you can handle me, eh?

" I didn't mean it like that" you said turning to him, his eyes catching yours as you started to regret your choice of words.

" I know" he nodded chuckling " I'm only teasing Y/N" he said clearing his throat.

"I need to know for sure though, I need to hear you say it, do you want this?" He said shifting closer to you, his eyes never moving from yours.

" I want this Tommy" you said as confidently as you could. "Do you?"

" I wouldn't have suggested it if I didn't" he said staring at you, his eyes piercing into you. "Look, i know it's not the typical start to a marriage, but we know eachother, we can trust eachother, right?" he said as he reached for your hand, his thumb caressing you in reassurance.

" We can trust eachother" you nodded, comforted by his gentle touch " You know, coming here today, i didn't think you would remember me" you said as you traced your finger around the rim of your empty glass.

" Oh I remember you. You were here all the time, running around playing hide-and-seek. And if I remember correctly, you were never very good at it" he said a smile on his lips as his eyes darted between yours and your fingers grazing along the glass.

"Well, you never did count to ten" you joked as a laugh escaped Tommy's mouth.

"I wasn't very patient" he admitted, taking a drag of his cigarette his eyes glistening, as a cocky grin formed on his face

" God, we must have annoyed Polly so much sometimes"

" We were just kids" he said shrugging his shoulders, as he poured you both another glass of whiskey.

" Not anymore" you replied, as he handed you your drink, his fingers brushing over yours.

" No, not anymore" he echoed quietly, taking a sip of his whiskey, as he looked over your body in the corner of his eye, clenching his jaw.

" I got you something" he said clearing his throat. Reaching into his suit pocket, Tommy pulled out a small box with a red ribbon neatly fastened around it. Putting it on the table he slowly pushed it towards you.

" Tommy you didn't have to do that"

" It's a wedding gift, I want you to wear it on the day" He said stubbing his cigarette out, as he watched your slender fingers gently untie the ribbon.

" Oh my god...Tommy" you said smiling as you took out a small diamond encrusted bracelet. "It's beautiful" you said as you turned the bracelet around, only to furrow your brows as you looked at his and your initials engraved with a date on the back.

"Tommy I think the Jeweler made a mistake, the date's wrong?

"It's not wrong Y/N, I'm bringing the wedding forward, to next Saturday" Tommy said as he opened his cigarette holder, pulling out another.

" What...forward?" You questioned confused by the unexpected change of plans.

" You don't have a problem with that, do you?" He questioned as he exhaled a cloud of smoke up to the ceiling, rubbing the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger.

" No, it's just...everything's been planned for two weeks time, why did you change the dates?"

" I don't want to wait Y/N" he said, tapping the ash from the cigarette into the glass tray as he turned to face you, his brows raised in surprise at your questions. " You sure you want to marry me, eh? He said cocking an eyebrow, a smirk on his lips.

"I do Tommy, it's just.." you said, still confused by the the sudden urgency. "..next week it is then" you replied, giving in, not knowing what else to say. Smiling to you, Tommy sat forward taking your hand as he clasped the bracelet around your small wrist.

"You like it then?" He asked his eyes looking up at you through his thick lashes.

"I love it" you said reaching your arms out, wrapping them around him. Hugging you back, Tommy's hand moved up to the back of your neck, his cheek pressing into your hair as he breathed in your perfume.

" You'll never want for anything Y/N, I'll make sure of that" he said as he let go. " And your mother, she will be looked after" he confirmed, as you looked up, meeting his eyes.

" Thank you, Tommy" you said as you placed your hand into his, his other hand reaching up, softly stroking your cheek with his thumb.

" We'll make it work, yeh?" he nodded to you.

" We will" you said shyly as you looked down at the bracelet on your wrist.

" Good. My brothers are right though, I can be a difficult man at times, stubborn set in my ways. But I'll look after you" he said as you nodded to him, his thumb still on your cheek as his fore finger grazed down cupping your chin "And in return I'll have a good, obedient wife" he added, eyes narrowing, his forehead raised, his grip subtly tightening as he waited for your reaction. Your eyes darted away nervously only to quickly come back to his intense glare.

"I'll be a good wife Tommy" you said, a small unsure laugh leaving your lips at his odd choice of words.

" Good" he said letting go of your cheek, his face finally relaxing, as he leaned back into his chair.

" You know Y/N, I think this might just work out for us"

NEXT PART

Tag list: @litteltourtius @aesthetic0cherryblossom

[tokoyamisstuff]

Fragments Pt. 2/3

Homelander / GN! Reader

Ch. 2: Lab Rat

Summary: Unfortunately Homelander's powers reawake earlier than his memory of how to control them.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of HL's past, PTSD, DID, cussing, blood, unhealthy relationship dynamics, death of animals

A/N: as a little treat for you guys, this chapter got extra long (: tbh I still haven't watched the show, let me live

The following weeks passed by rather quick and uneventful - albeit it wouldn't calm down your nerves at all.

You had been on high alert for a while, fearing the worst case scenario: That whoever did this to John would come and finish the job. It did not happen in the end, so the enemy either believes him to be dead already, or was certain the lethal environment would do the rest.

What worried you right now however was the fact that nobody seemed to be searching for your acquaintance.

Locals would come to deliver supplies occasionally, and at some point you handed them a USB with a photo and the little data you knew about John. Hopefully the old - and only - shared computer in the townshall had a good enough internet connection to spread the missing person report for as many people as possible to see.

John had been joking a lot recently, about how he might've been a terrible person and people would be glad that he disappeared - but you knew deep down, he feared there might actually be some truth in his words.

One thing was sure: He could be irritating to a point where one wants to punch his pretty face in - and he's not even aware of that fact.

Over time, you noticed a lot of subtle hints to his former personality: Like his almost neurotic need for praise and attention. It seemed like he didn't even know how to simply exist by himself - for example, sometimes you came home from an expedition, and he just sat at the same spot you've left him, awaiting you almost a little too excited.

To his defense, it was hard to avoid each other in a single-room apartment. And since you had brought only the most essential things for your survival, there wasn't really that much to do either way.

Most of the day he'd follow you around, insisting that he wanted to be useful despite his condition. He was touchy - not in an indecent way, but rather starved for closeness. Always accidentally brushing his hand against yours, leaning his chin atop of your head or hugging you if he was feeling particulary happy about something.

And while hesistant at the beginning, the more you tolerated it the more he dared.

Also, his almost nonexistent empathy and lack of emotional maturity in general was infuriating. You really felt like talking to a giant toddler sometimes -but as odd as it sounds, he reacted to your scolding and listened to instructions surprisingly well.

And oh, he sure loves the sound of his own voice. His opinions unnerved you to no end, yet the way he was talking about certain topics sounded awfully like he was just repeating things someone else had drilled him to believe, without ever understanding or even caring enough to verify.

You really wondered what kind of life John had led before all of this.

Curiosity kills the cat, or so they say.

A doctor had already arrived at your remote location two days after the initial snowstorm had settled. He had complimented you for properly caring for the wounds despite your limited knowledge and ressources, and John gladly joined him in enskying you.

Since then, there wasn't much more to do than continuing treatment until his wounds would heal - which they did surprisingly fast, much to your mutual relief.

The drug John inhaled had eliminated a great portion of the Compound V in his system, but not completely. And as you could now observe first hand, the residue was able to multiply again.

That could only mean the rest of his powers would slowly but steadily return as well, right?

"NO! It burns, it burns please STOP!"

John's desolate scream made you bolt up from your sleep, instantly rushing to his side. He was experiencing nightmares very frequently, and after the past couple of tries to wake him up, you knew better than to touch him.

"John..." you whisper to not startle him, hesistantly approaching the man cowering on his bed. "It's not real. You're dreaming, you're safe. Nothing can hurt you! Follow my voice. Please, wake up..."

He was sobbing frantically, heartbrakingly even. A perfect image of misery, hugging himself in a desperate attempt to erase that awfully vivid sensation of being burned alive.

Whatever had happened to him, the suffering was imprinted so deep inside of his soul that he was forced to relive it even after alledgedly losing all memories.

You repeat the affirmating words like a mantra, tears involuntarily creeping to the rim of your eyes as well. Eventually his breaths would even out and he was able to come down to reality again, recognizing you through wettened lashes.

Shame washed over him, now feeling as if he'd drown rather than burning. He was pathetic, even without this creepy psycho shit already - a nuisance to you who had given him nothing but kindness.

"I'm sorry." His eyes darted around the room - anywhere but your face - but he was certain that you were shooting him that damn pitying look again "Didn't mean to wake you..."

John's voice was hoarse from screaming, his coughing prompting you to hand him the water on the nightstand. "No problem, really. Don't worry about it."

"You're being too naive" he mumbled, his hand lingering on yours for a bit longer than necessary as you handed him the glass. "Nursing a stranger to health...I mean, I could as well be lying about my anmnesia."

"And there I was thinking you had a way with words" you snorted, defendingly crossing your arms in front of your chest. "No offense, but you don't seem like the bright type. Besides: If you wanted to do something awful to me, you had all the time in the world and no witnesses, so..."

Eager to prove your trust, out of a whim you hopped next to him, the springs of the mattress creaking under the additional weight. Until now, despite his protest, you chose to sleep on a very uncomfortable sofa, offering him the bed since he was still not fully restored.

"You're incorrigible..." he sighed, a little taken aback by the sudden invasion of personal space, mentally adding "...but an amazing person."

"I'm not even sure if I want to remember" he tells himself rather than you, mumbling into the pillow. Whenever he tried there was a mental block, some kind of tug in his heart that felt like regaining it would cost him greatly. "Those dreams...I'm terrified to find out what they truly mean."

"Your past only defines you if you let it." Wow, that sounded way less corny in your head. "Whatever happens, you won't get rid of me that easily, I promise."

"Sounds more like a threat" he smirks, daring to shuffle a little closer.

After a while of comfortable silence between the two of you, John was the first one to look away from the ceiling, staring at you instead. He was still shaking, unable to decipher whether the lump in his throat was caused by his night terror or something else.

"...I mean you could stay here." John's voice was barely audible, as if to test your reaction first. "Better than that goddamn brick of a sofa."

You glared at him, eyes shooting daggers. "Next time we're in the field, you get a snowball right into that handsome face." He snickered at your attempt to be strict, his smugness returning already. "Oh, so you think I'm handsome, huh?"

Gosh, that man was obnoxious - and yet, even though you'd rather die than to admit, he made you jittery beyond belief. "That doesn't give you the right to do or say whatever you want, you know?"

"Didn't deny it" he winked, yet raised his hands in defense. "C'mon, I'm not trying something shady. It's just- forget it."

"...talking about incorrigible" you uttered, after looking at him dumbfounded until you finally understood. "If you feel more comfortable this way, then sure."

John nodded mutely, cracking an embarrassed smile that you couldn't help but mirror. You slid under the covers with him, the dimmed lights only worsening this awkward situation.

"Y/N?" You hqd almost dozed off already when you heard his voice again, yet it was too dark to decipher his features. "Mhh?"

"...thank you. For everything, really."

Asides from his healing factor, his heightened senses were the next thing that had returned - and they made him notice things you probably weren't even aware of yourself.

Just like right now.

That mixture of pheromones in your scent, together with an increased heartrate whenever you were close...it was unlike anything he had ever perceived, even without knowing his history he was sure of that fact.

Was this chemical reaction equal to what people called love?

And yet you never acted on those desires, for it would be terribly wrong in every way. The man next to you was in a vulnerable state no one should take advantage of. Not to mention that you didn't really know this person. He could as well be having a partner or family somewhere, and you had no intention to become a homewrecker.

So you continued reminding yourself about his negative aspects, tried to convince yourself that anyone would be feeling like this after being isolated together for so long.

Shit, can't he just hurry up and remember?

Much to your shock, you wake up entangled in both the blanket and John's embrace the next morning. He had an arm and leg wrapped around you, effectively trapping you in his hold.

Instead of freaking out or kicking him off the bed, you decide to simply close your eyes again and enjoy this blissful state. His breathing was warm against your skin, and he also seemed very peaceful in his sleep in huge contrast to usually.

After a few more minutes, his soft snores disappeared. John was confused, never having felt this well-rested in forever.

"Ah shi- I'm sorry-" before he could retract his arm, you held onto it and snuggled even closer against his chest. "Who said you could stop?"

"Oh...oh." he grinned cheekily, jawning as his head nuzzled against your neck. "Well, good morning then."

"You sure this is a good idea?" Turning to look at him, you get some messy strands of hair out of his face. "Coming with me today, I mean."

Up until now, you had avoided taking him to your laboratory, even though the two buildings were connected via a tunnel. Usually he only helped you carry stuff, do the household horribly wrong or assist you collect specimen in the wild.

But for someone who was having nightmares about a strange laboratory to come with you..."just stay here, watch a movie or something. I won't take long."

"Ugh, you don't even have any supe movies that could help me remember" he grimaced, "just some boring woke stuff."

There's no telling what this man thinks sometimes. "You just don't have any taste. Supe movies are brainless cash-cows."

"Nerd" he purrs, leading your hand to his head again, looking at you pleadint to continue massaging his scalp. Ugh, how can someone this unnerving be so great at making you do whatever he wants? "It might not be the best idea, but maybe confrontation will help me make sense out of it."

What's the worse that could happen? You've seen him having a mental breakdown several times now, and you handle it well. "...okay. Just don't complain if I make you work overtime."

"Sure thing, boss."

A quick breakfast and several discussions later, you unlock the door that led to your laboratory. Observing his reaction, you saw how his mannerism had shifted unnaturally even for his standards.

"Why are they caged in here?" You stiffened at his question, at the accusation in his tone. "What, don't tell me Mr. Conversative suddenly became an animal's rights advocate?"

No answer, instead he stared you down even more sombre. "It's not like they're locked in here forever. Climate change makes it harder for them to find food, so I take their measurements for comparison. Some I feed a while longer, and when they're strong enough they're released. I swear!"

"S-Sorry, I- fuck..." He couldn't even put his finger on why this enraged him so much, trying to tear the trapped polar fox away from his field of view.

"Hey..." you wanted to put a hand on his shoulder, but he flinched away from you. "Maybe you should go back, alright?"

Fuck it, you were right, that was a stupid idea - he'll never hear the end of it. John's head was spinning and he felt sick, thinking that maybe he should sit down...

...but when he opened his squinted eyes again, a sheer coincidence would turn out fatal: The heavy steel door, an emergency exit, it was red - looking awfully alike.

"You tricked me" he gritted, logical thinking overshadowed by flashbacks. "Huh?"

"You put me in The Bad Room again!" John's eyes were wild, furious even as he violently shook your smaller frame. "How could you?!"

He then pushed you away, sending you flying and proceeding to run in circles like a coyote in a trap.

"John..." The impact made you dizzy, any yet you tried to stay conscious with all might. "The door's open, you can leave anytime." You made the grave mistake of grabbing his wrist, wanting him to stop in his tracks or at least distract him...

...but he slammed his fist right next to your head, making a huge dent in the wall. "Don't fucking touch me, or I'll fucking kill you!"

It all happened so fast, you couldn't even tell why it went downhill from there - but when you saw his eyes gleaming red, you made a run for it.

Having listened to your gut and fleeing outside, the next thing you knew you were standing in front of a completely destroyed building.

John fell to his knees in between the rubble, covered it blood and viscera of the animals you had formerly kept inside. You inhaled sharply as his eyes found you, fighting against the urge to screech - and yet, he could hear your heart practically hammering against your chest, made out the scent of adrenaline even through the dust and smoke.

John knew that scene all too well, vivid images flashing in front of his inner eye: People running away from him, terrified...and his hands covered in blood, just like right now.

You were afraid of him - and you had every right to be. He was a dangerous freak! No wonder they've kept him locked away somewhere before.

"John!"

Your voice made him snap out of it, screaming your lungs out calling for him. Without second thought you ran straight at him, wrapping your arms around his neck despite your instinct to stay away. "Shit, John, I was worried! Are you hurt?!"

"W-what kind of question is that?!" he sobbed, tears streaming down his face that froze as soon as they dropped to the ground. "Are you dull or just insane, coming back after what you just saw?!"

"But you're the victim here!" He looked at you like a kicked puppy - if the situation wasn't so severe it would certainly be adorable. "I-I'm just glad you're alright."

You sank to the ground too, simply cradling his head against your chest. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry..."

"Hey, plea- can't breathe-" The fleeting image of his past, the lifeless body of a woman dropping to his feet flashes before his inner eye, making him finally release you from his suffocating hug.

"Come" you beckon, trying to pull him from the ground but he was too exhausted - mentally at least. He might not be affected by temperature anymore, but it was minus 50 degrees out here. "Let's go home."

Gladly your flat didn't get caught in the impact of John's breakdown, and you managed to seal the broken airlock that had connected the two buildings.

Damn, this laboratory had eaten up all of your savings - and now the whole progress was simply gone. So it was only naturally that after the first shock subsided, it was you who started crying your eyes out. Not in front of him, though - as understandable as your frustration was, he was going through something way worse right now.

The bottom line was: Both your lives were now in ruins, and he was responsible.

This whole day, John wouldn't utter a single word. Instead he shunned himself from you, staying god knows where. As you were looking out of the window before sunset, you saw him just standing there, staring at the horizon. He might not be harmed by the cold, but you were sure he was still able to freeze.

Did all of this at least make him remember something? Maybe that was exactly the problem.

"You can't ignore us forever."

John clenched his fists, looking over to the house and spotting you in the window. You shouldn't be worried for him of all people - hell, you shouldn't be near him at all!

"Heya champ, talk to me."

The voices he was hearing all evening were clearly imaginary. He was probably losing his mind...or he was insane all along, who knows?

All he knew was that he didn't want the answer.

"Oh c'mon, you're even worse than the usual guy!" His reflection on the lake was talking to him in his own voice, finally snapping. "Another sniveling pussy, obsessed with affection. Fucking pathetic."

"What the fuck do you want from me?!" he spat back at himself, or rather a part of him. "Don't you get it? I am you, but stronger - better! I've got us through The Bad Room back then, and I can help you again. You're still fighting to remember...just stop resisting and you can finally become who you're truly meant to be."

There were other, more different versions of his voice, all mixing up in his mind. Some were cussing you out, others mocking himself or drowning in self-pitying...

...and worse ones made him even more afraid of what his twisted mind would be capable of...

"Really?! You care for that bitch? God, what a fucking disappointment. Believe me, she's not the first one that'll abandon you. Eventually, you'll always ruin everything. Just like back then, when you-"

"Silence! Leave me alone!" John was slamming against his own head when you rushed outside, initially wanting to drape a blanket over his shoulders. It took you forever pleading with him to at least talk things through...

...but when he reluctantly aggreed to come inside, the voices made it clear that this wouldn't be the last he had heard of them.

"I will leave" he informed you of his decision, clutching the mug of coffee you had just handed him. Those words made your heart clench, but you always knew it was inevitable. "Why so sudden? And how?"

"Apparently I can fly. Fast." Shit, what powers doesn't he have? That's unusual, even for a supe. "So you got your memories back?"

"Nope" he pops his lips matter-of-factly, looking anywhere but your eyes. "But I think we got enough proof that I'm unstable and should be, I don't know, in an institution or something." You purse your mouth, anxiety raising in the pit of your stomach. "John..."

"Oh don't 'John' me, Y/N! I'm a fucking monster!" That was the first time he had ever raised his voice at you, slamming on the table which he instantly regretted as he saw your doe eyes widen. "S-Sorry, but...I feel like I've been lonely all my life, and for a good reason. What if I use my powers unintentionally, the next time I got a nightmare? What if I hurt you? Shit, Y/N, I could never forgive myself if that happened..."

You choked on a sob, bottom lip trembling as you simultaneously tried to find the right words without crying. "Stop talking about yourself like that. I refuse to belive you'd be able to hurt me."

"But you don't know me! Not really. Hell, I don't even know myself-"

"Oh yes I do!" you cut him off harshly, cupping both sides of his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. "You're many things, but you are not a monster. You are a kind and funny and wonderful man, and you brightened every single one of my days here ever since you stumbled into my life!"

"Y/N-" he wanted to object, but you wouldn't let him. "No matter what happened that you turned out this way, you didn't deserve any of it. If you leave, you need to promise me to never give up on yourself. You deserve to be happy, okay?"

John leaned into your touch, tears long since broken free. "Why do you care so much about someone that caused you nothing but trouble?"

"Because I'm in love with you, damn it!" you blurted out without thinking first. "Does this finally go through your thick skull, or do I need to be even more obvious?!"

That sentence alone was enough for the dam to break.

John kissed you with an urgency that was frightening, as if he needed it more than air. He had pulled you onto his lap, hands demandingly roaming your body, unwilling to ever let go. "Again" he breathed out when your lips parted, "Say it again."

"I think I'm in love with you, John." Oh, he already knew he was addicted. Another kiss, quicker and more playfull this time, smiling against your lips. "One more time."

"I love you, you blockhead!" you declared proudly, feeling like a huge weight had been lifted off your chest. And you were not the only one relieved to finally be able to act upon all those pent up emotions.

"Gosh, you have no idea how long I wanted to do this" John admitted almost a little bashful, covering your face in pecks. "I never thought you'd feel the same."

You tasted his tears on your lips, and he wiped yours away with his thumb, looking at you with so much adoration in his eyes, it made you wax in his hands. "I may have planned confess after your memories return, but now..." you pause, rubbing the back of your head as remorse hit you like a train. "I guess we'll have to figure it out as we go."

Yeah, there's truly no going back now. May as well enjoy it while it's lasting.

Another handful of weeks passed since your relationship blossomed, and you secretly hoped his past would never catch up on him again.

Since you had no way of finishing your research without the trashed equipment, it was about time to temporarily give up on this dream.

The two of you already made plans for the futue, had prepared to leave all this behind move back to build a life somewhere. He on the other hand was determined to do whatever it takes to repay and give you the chance to continue your studies...

...that was until shortly before your departure, when you had another unexpected visitor.

John stayed in bed as it was still early morning, admiring you from afar. He did not understand a single word you were exchanging with one of the locals in their native tongue, just hoping no matter what it was about, you would quickly come back into his arms.

A wide, infatuated smile stretched across his face as you briefly locked eyes, staring at him in awe. "What's the matter?" he inquired, noticing how dramatically you slammed the door shut.

"They've- hey!" you couldn't help but laugh as the carefree man pulled you back under the covers with him. "Continue, sweetheart."

"They've brought news from the village." Turning to face him, you indulged in one last kiss, selfishly fearing this would be the last tender moment you shared - way too soon. "People who claim to know who you are."

"Really?!" John softly clutched the sides of your shoulders, shivering ever so slightly. "Wha- who?!"

"A company, I think. Weird. What was the name...Vought?"

Unable to look at him due to your fear of losing him to his former life, you didn't notice his obvious distress, the way his eyes darkened at that cursed name. "They say you're some kind of superhero, just as I thought."

"No wonder with your kind of power, honestly" you continued at his lack of reaction, distracting yourself with a thoughtless banter. "So what, should I call you 'Homelander' from now on?"

Suddenly you felt a sharp pain in your back, way before the sound of something clashing could reach your ears. You couldn't even fathom what had happened until you grasped the situation: John had you slammed against the wall, his hand firmly wrapped around your throat.

"You fucking normie bitch..." He applied some pressure to your trachea, enough to be uncomfortable but not cutting off your air supply...yet. "Shit! How much time did I waste here?!"

You helplessly kicked with your legs, clawed at his relentless grip on your trachea, but to no avail. "Wha- John-" you stammered but his tone was callous, a manic smile stretching across his face. "Just said it yourself - that's Homelander for you."

A cracking sound filled the room as he moved his head from left to right, taking in your plain appearance for the first time after the fog in his brain had dissolved.

"I should crush you like the insect you are to me!" His stare was so unlike you had ever seen him before - the usually composed man full of spite and disgust. Regaining all of those terrible memories sure was agonizing, so right now he felt nothing but pure rage.

You were completely at his mercy, yet you were still so trusting, confused at max - and sympathetic. "Do you think I need your damn pity? I am the peak of evolution, a god, and you are...nothing."

Of course he could do it easily, snap your neck like a toothpick. You were aware, and it honestly felt like he was doing it already, the lack of oxygen making you see stars...

...and yet you stopped resisting, your palm instead wandering up to his cheek, using up the last ounce of strenght to say his name.

"Jo-ohn, plea...se..."

Even though his grip would not falter, his face fell at the genuine affection dripping from your voice. He seemed bewildered, desperate even, a multitude of emotions playing on his face - before his lips ultimatively crashed over yours.

In spite of all logic you reciprocated the kiss, wrapping your arms around him like you had done so many times before. But it didn't feel as familiar, as safe and right as before.

There was nothing either of you could say or do now that the illusion you both had created was scattered.

Homelander shook his head, trying to ground himself. He was done playing pretend, he decided internally, letting you down exceptionally gentle. As he headed for the exit, he turned to look at you one last time.

"You're not even worth killing."

[mars-ipan]

ok priest au kinda . got a lot more attention than i expected. so here's a little ref so i can generally keep their designs organized in the future lmao

some design notes:

NAGITO:

this guy is pale as FUCK. almost scarily pale.

the little tufts of hair that fall to the sides of his face... reminiscent of goat ears

while the vestments are simple in color (almost entirely black (actually a very dark green)), they make up for it with interesting shapes and flowing pieces of fabric-- use these to create visual intrigue

the sash rests just above his hips, and ends about 2/3rds of the way down his thighs

his cross sits directly in front of his sternum

the sleeves of his priest outfit come all the way down to his wrists, and the bottom of his robe rests right over his toes

with the exception of his ahoges, komaeda's general silhouette is completely symmetrical. symmetry is holy!

komaeda is someone who appears non-threatening, but still has a frighteningly intimidating aura about him. he will make you want to listen to him, not necessarily out of fear, but out of the respect he seems to passively command. you wouldn't want to disappoint everyone's favorite priest, would you? he's so soft-spoken and kind, "an angel on earth," people call him! you'd hate to see him frown. keep this in mind with posing and facial expression. he is calm, welcoming, and subtly powerful.

i will always give komaeda a halo of some kind. its design may deviate depending on what an individual illustration may demand, but in most drawings it will consist of two concentric circles with lines radiating out from its center. these lines will follow the angle/tilt of komaeda's head- if he tilts his head to the side, the halo "tilts" with him. most of the time, 7 lines will be visible in his halo. 7 is a holy number!

he's taller than in canon partially because i've always headcanoned komaeda as taller, just with a slouch (although priest!maeda has perfect posture) and partially because i like the physical power it gives him over hinata.

komaeda's proportions are thin and spindly-- he's almost frail under the robes. when in doubt, make him Longer.

while not visible in the image. komaeda's shoes are essentially just dress shoes, albiet a little rounder in the toes. i just google "priest shoes" and draw the most modern looking result lmao

HAJIME:

almost always going to be blushing pretty heavily due to shame and Horny-- he blushes with his entire face. it starts in his cheeks, then spreads up his nose and into his forehead and ears. after that, it will go down his neck

hinata has more outfit variation due to just. being Regular Townsfolk. however his standard fit is a wool-lined flannel over a dark t-shirt, with a standard pair of jeans and sneakers. i just let him keep his canon sneakers bc sure whatever :] this au takes place in Tha Midwest so he for sure has heavier clothes for winter and may forgo the wearing the flannel in the summer. he has several colors of flannels, but the one he wears most often is orange with red and yellow stripes (fire!)

hinata's flannels are cuffed-- he flips his sleeves inside out until the wool lining is at the outer edge. he got this habit doing work with his hands-- long sleeves are good protection and cuffing them keeps them out of the way.

that's right i decided farmboy hinata was the best route for this au. this also means he's pretty buff! he grew up doing manual labor. i'm not Very Good at drawing people with a lot of muscle (even under fat) but the only way to learn is thru practice right

unlike komaeda, hinata has a very reserved and nervous demeanor. this is a guy whose every thought is steeped in a deep self-hatred. keep that in mind with his poses and expressions-- he will often try to take up as little space as possible, or flinch away from people. his brow is often furrowed and he is often frowning. despite being physically strong, hinata is emotionally weak, so he carries himself much more tensely than the average person would expect. those who talk to him all seem to like him, but he visibly doesn't like himself. since he's new in town, maybe town gossip will spread about what may have caused him to move here. after all, he seems to have some sort of secret...

hinata's proportions are broad and stocky-- years' worth of farmwork will do that to ya. when in doubt, make him Wider.

both of hinata's eyes are an olive sort of green. i considered making them fully brown but i wanted to connect his colors to komaeda's a little more so they stayed green

[rockingtheorange]

Why is Nick such an asshole to Taylor and the film? He already toldAmazon he will nto be doing the sequel.

I don't like answering this type of questions so I'll make it as complete as I can, so people can get a life outside their own expectations. (I'm not defending Nick, I'm stating facts.)

First of all, let's not spread false rumors. Nick has not dropped the project. (I'm baffled on how this rumor could start in the first place)

Nick signed a contract for the sequel, he has responsibilities towards it, and consequences if he doesn't follow it. Regardless, it's not us who decide the terms. If he ever decides to leave the project, he'll make a choice and ponder the consequences.

"He could do more". Well, he also could do less. He's an actor and does his job however he feels like. (Do y'all care about every single aspect of your own jobs or studies? Bet you have priorities, right?)

In pop culture, there's this conception of the artist "owes his fans". While I'm inclined to love fanservice of all kind because it makes us, fans, feel appreciated, no one forces us to be a fan, meanwhile the artists are forced to do fanservice as long as they want or their contracts stipulates that.

Now let me go onto the specific part of Nicholas' life and personality.

Let's remind ourselves that we can be the biggest fans and yet know nothing about our favorite celebrities. They show us what they want us to know, it's our choice to decide what we want to follow, hear or understand.

As far as we know Nick, he's always been a quiet reserved person, who suffers from anxiety, doesn't like big social events and hardly uses social media (especially in the recent years)

He's somewhat a fearful person who decides to step outside his comfort zone. We can know that from his song Comfort.

Nick has talked about how one of his "great fears is being misunderstood." You can read about it in the article RWRB related from BritishGQ in which he compares his fear with Henry's experience.

Nick has been showing multiple times in multiple occasions how he loved Henry and loved playing him. He wouldn't have said "yes" to a sequel if he didn't want to. (I'd also say it's a big deal since Nick has always only played in project that didn't get a sequel, and he consciously decided to agree to it.)

In Nick's career, we can see how diverse and interesting his characters must be. He's drawn to peculiar characters and when he finds one, he puts everything he has to offer into it. This leads him to focus on other characters that aren't the same static one from a year or two ago. (He moves on to the next project, and I don't see anything bad about it.)

Working a lot means schedule conflicts and Nick has always had this problem. If he doesn't work on something new, he rests while doing his little hobbies. (Does he need to attend every social event if he doesn't want to? Do y'all ever rest? And if you don't, can other rest instead?)

I added my personal opinion in parenthesis so it doesn't get confused with the facts. Nick is a human with personal interests, ranked scale of values and personal life.

If you don't want to be a fan, don't be. If you want to be a hater, talk it to the wall instead of harming or annoy others. If you have expectations over other people, learn to manage what you can't control. If you think you're in control of someone else, you're not.

Now, excuse me I'll go back to watch RWRB with Henry played by Nicholas Galitzine, the actor who took his fragile character and held him in his hand, and protected him.

[takami-takami]

Would You Still.

kinktober day 5: sensory deprivation.

includes— hawks x reader. minors dni.

warnings— gn!reader. suggestive.

keigo loses his wings. he can't help but think.

It's been three months since Keigo lost his wings. You both are finally starting to settle into the routine of things. 

It took quite a bit of time for the hero to adjust to being a man, a human being— in order to understand, in this circumstance, it would be helpful to consider being human as synonymous with being small.

Keigo never learned what it meant to truly be small, to not occupy the entirety of the space within a room and boldly carry the weight of responsibility that comes with it. 

Even the color of his wings was large. They were born cursed to be painted a sovereign shade of red, carrying with it a saturation that elicited eyes from prey and predator alike. 

Among beasts, there might be two reasons why a creature would carry such a bold and extravagant phenotype, and neither of them are by choice: to attract the attention of others or to instill fear in those same creatures; that is, to ward them away. 

Was it the color of his wings that enticed the vultures of the commission to swoop down from their encircling above, plucking their fresh pickings from the gutter and thrusting it into a life of hero galas and assassination missions and spotlight?

Perhaps he shouldn't complain. It gave him a platform for his goals, after all, and the ends do begrudgingly justify the means.

Did his wings grow too big too fast? Maybe that's why his mother left. What are your wings even good for, she said.

Or perhaps it was he who abandoned her.

No. Even as a child, Keigo was never afforded the luxury of being small. 

He used to step carefully, mindful of the clumsy expanse of a wingspan spread sixfold in glorious feet; but now, there is space for him in narrow paths uncrossed. His resilience, it seems, is rooted deeper than the feathers that used to sprout from his back. 

He's taken up knife work in the recent months. You lay among the sheets, watching him sit at the edge of the bed. The muscles of his back flex when he flicks and twirls the steel of his butterfly knife, spinning with a speed you know better than to attempt to follow. 

"Do you ever miss them?"

Keigo's ears perk when he hears you speak behind him. 

He puts the weapon down.

You've asked him this question before. Keigo doesn't mind answering again if it's you.

"Sometimes," he says, still turned away. "But not in a way that really matters."

You crawl towards him, the mattress creaking below. The cotton of his shirt rubs against the flesh of his back when you pull it over his shoulders. He lets you.

Those shoulders don't carry the weight of the world's jagged stones like they used to. He doesn't have to cut holes in his shirts anymore.

When you plant your lips down the now-bare column of his spine, across his shoulder blades and back up to repeat the push and pull, the feeling is alien to him— like a flash of light that blinds the eye before its pupils have the chance to constrict.

To not be able to anticipate exactly where and when someone— you will be able to touch him… 

Keigo is just happy it's you.

"Do you ever miss them," he asks. 

Am I still useful, he means.

There's a tremble in his voice when he speaks. Your palms freeze where they splay against the constellations of scars that litter his back. If you could see his eyes, you'd find them transfixed and blinking at the glass window that hangs like a painting in your bedroom, illustrating the jump from here to the ground twenty-seven stories below.

But contrary to what one might expect, you wouldn't find insecurity. Just curiosity.

After a moment, chewing the question in each cheek, you answer with the truth.

"No. I don't miss them at all."

At that, the sheets ruffle softly as Keigo turns to meet you, laying you down on the bed like you're glass and slotting himself against your lips. The knife thuds as it falls against the fibers of your carpet, forgotten still.

His lips are soft now, no longer chapped by high altitudes and whipping winds. He can feel your smile begin to form against his, can feel the quirk of your lips at each corner when you toss your arms over his shoulders.

He made you smile. His heart soars up high.

His fingertips crawling beneath your clothes is to say, "thank you."

His eyes shutting with the kiss, muting his last method of hypervigilance, is to say, "I love you."