#i can't even begin to list the ways he's abusive

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

Counterintuitively, Jason trafficking drugs himself, and the way he treats drug dealers in general is actually one of the core reasons I do believe he has a real moral backbone.

In Lost Days we see him mention that he killed his small arms teacher because the smack he was dealing was poisoned. In Nightwing (2016) Annual #2 Jason is particularly violent towards their enemy because he cut his heroin with other substances, leading to his mother's first overdose. In Under the Red Hood, his most important rule is 'no selling to kids', and he is specifically employing people who do sell drugs to adults.

Playing a bit of Headcanon Jazz here - listening to the notes Jason doesn't play as much as the ones he does - It feels really notable to me that dealing drugs is not enough to get on Jason's shit list. On some level Jason thinks it's okay to deal drugs. Even more importantly: Jason doesn't at all imply that drug users are at fault - nor that they need to have the choice to use taken from them 'for their own good'. Heck, I can't remember any instance of him saying that doing drugs is a bad thing.

He has lived with and cared for someone struggling with an addiction that she died to, which would have made it really easy to take him in a 'no leniency, no tolerance, kill all drug dealers and burn all the crack so no one can smoke it' road. Yet that's the opposite of how he's operating.

And I'm putting all that together to get a Jason who firmly believes in harm reduction and that when it comes to drugs, people have a right to risk; they have a right to choose to use. I don't think it's too much further of a stretch to say that he thinks that those who do use should be supported by infrastructure ensuring that their drugs are uncut and properly dosed and that they should have safe places to use and well funded rehab options if they want to quit.

This whole thing is so important to me because it lies completely outside of his emotional conflict of 'I wasn't avenged'; it's proof that there was more to Jason's talk about running Gotham differently than simply killing people.

Factually, there are a huge number of criminal activities that could be used to improve the lives of vulnerable people.

I firmly believe that no government has the right to detain, imprison, deport, et.c. people fleeing violence and persecution in their country of origin. A criminal organization that genuinely had their best interest in mind who could provide access to new identities, jobs, housing, and paperwork for cheap could save and change hundreds of lives. Sex workers, especially survival sex workers who want to quit and move on to a new job, could benefit enormously from protection from the cops, and from landlords kicking them out, and the ability to get criminal charges purged from their records, and lots of other stuff. People who use street drugs need a lot of the same things, as do people who need access to medication but for whatever reason can't get prescriptions the legal way.

This is all stuff that is already a staple of organized crime - they just do it in ways that are insanely abusive and exploitative.

It makes sense that Jason would look at that and think he could make it work! Honestly I'd love to read a comic about him trying! He could be the pinnacle of Be Gay Do Crime! Sadly though, it's very unlikely we ever will, especially because his term as a drug lord was so incredibly short to begin with. Under the Red Hood, a tiny snippet of Robin (1993) and Green Arrow (2001) #69 - #72 is really all we get, and none of those really got into the politics of his organization either.

Tho, there is a tiny snippet we possibly see in Seeing Red, my favorite Jason run ever, and I will take any excuse to talk about it so here we go lol!

This is a comic in which Batman gets some things wrong about Jason, and might be straight up lying to Green Arrow in places too, so I don't think we can take his word for it when he says Jason is driving up the trade. Especially not when Jason hasn't given a single flying fuck about collecting wealth for himself in basically any other appearance ever.

Is he using drugs as a trading good to some capacity? Yes, that's a minor plot point here, however, I think justice is very present in his reasoning. I think Jason is being selective with which shipments he's keeping - testing each and destroying the stuff that's extra dangerous, making sure that what's getting used is as safe as it can be. Plus, he might be reducing the supply so that drug trade can't expand, while considering complete elimination to be flatly undesirable, since it could force users to go cold turkey, something that can be dangerous, or at least very painful.

Now, obviously this is still headcanon territory, we never really see into Jason's head about this specific topic, but I do feel like it's a reasonable way to fill in that gap!

Anyways, this is why I've never felt like Jason's disagreements with Bruce's methods were purely about his own emotional desires. There's too much else surrounding that which he clearly also cares about.

[leighsartworks216]

Yeah, 'Cause Maybe Then You'd Want Me Just As Much

Sylus x Mephisto!Reader

In the actual Nightplumes memory, Mephisto actually gets along with the dove but um fuck that, we want it to hurt. Also wanna say the "I'm busy right now" line is from the actual game, which inspired this tbh

Title from "Girl Crush" by Little Big Town

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, jealousy, self-esteem issues, self-worth issues, body dysphoria, shapeshifting, biting, fear of water, storms, pet names, crying, possibly ooc

Word Count: 3,699

Main Masterlist

First - Second - Third LADs Masterlists

AO3

Tag List Form

Ugh, doves. They think they're sooo perfect just because they're so round and cute and everyone loves them. Those pathetic little coos. A bird should make real noise, not just those dumb sounds.

So why is Sylus - a man whom you were led to believe had good tastes in avian creatures - giving it so much attention?

You bite his earlobe. His head jerks away on reflex, a soft hiss escaping through his teeth. "Behave," he chides. Doesn't even look at you.

You glare down at the pathetic dove again. Somehow it hurt its wing. And for some godforsaken reason Miss Hunter brought it to Sylus to look after. You know for a fact she has a doctor friend, why not foist it on him until she gets back from her trip? Yeah, Sylus is great with animals, but that's beside the point.

You bite his ear again. He sighs. "Do I have to send you on a mission?" You bristle at the question, feathers standing on end. His brow is furrowed as he gets back to examining the dove's wing. It's not even a bad break; it'll recover in no time.

So why can't he spare a second on you?

You try a different approach. With a more delicate touch, you preen the ends of his hair. He still doesn't glance your way. "I'm busy right now. Go entertain yourself for a bit."

Oh...

You step awkwardly on his shoulder, feeling suddenly too out of place there. Your wing almost clips his head as you take off for your perch. Even here, the wood just feels wrong under your feet. Your feathers are ruffled. They can't seem to relax. A chasm opens in your heart. Synthetic as it may be, you can still feel it. Like a black hole, sucking in all the light.

The dove coos. You can't stay in here. You slip out of an open window and fly off. Where to, you have no idea. Anywhere but here.

"Anywhere" lands you outside the window of a fourth floor hotel room. The light is still on, just a small lamp by the bed, but it's enough to see a familiar figure sitting against the headboard reading a mission brief. You tap on the glass.

Miss Hunter looks up with a start. The surprise quickly turns to a frown. She gets up in a huff and jerks the curtains closed.

You can hear a phone ringing inside a second later.

"Sylus! What have I told you about sending your bird to spy on me?!"

The faint crackle of Sylus's voice answers with a sharp scoff. "I haven't told Mephisto to do anything," he retorts.

"Then why is it outside my window right now, huh?!"

"Why don't you ask?" he teases dryly. "Maybe they missed picking fights with you."

"You-!"

"Goodnight, kitten."

The beep of an ended call. You tap on the glass again, softer this time.

Miss Hunter huffs inside. Moments pass, but the curtains remain drawn shut. You can't tell if the lamp has been turned off; you can't even hear her moving around. Maybe she's decided to take the "out of sight, out of mind" approach. Unsurprising, really. If she isn't ignoring you, she's shouting abuse at you.

A large crack of thunder rumbles through your circuits, stirring the air with electricity. You hadn't even noticed the weather - the clouds are dark, covering every sliver of sky for miles.

You tap on the glass more urgently.

The first droplets of rain begin to fall. Slow, random. And then more and more, all at once in a barrage of water. You press yourself tighter to the window and tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap-

The curtains are thrown open. The window lifts from its sill. Before she can angrily ask why you won't leave her alone, you fly in as quick as you can. Just in the nick of time, it seems, as the rain turns into a proper storm, lightning firing through the sky in a burst of light. You tumble onto the end of the bed, feathers ruffled.

She huffs as she slides the window shut, ready to tease you or yell at you, but another loud boom of thunder makes her flinch and close the curtains quickly, words stolen. "Fine! I guess you can... stay the night," she relents. She rounds the bed to sit back down where she was before. She picks up the tablet with her mission data and holds it up, pointing at you accusingly. "And no telling Sylus about anything you see here, got it?"

You caw back at her. You don't wanna tell Sylus anything right now. It might distract him from his sweet, precious dove...

Knees bent, she sets the tablet on her thighs and starts reading again. Rain hits against the window, picked up by a growing wind that slams it into the hotel building. Another shock of thunder. She curls slightly more into herself.

You preen your feathers. Align them all once more, clean them from the long flight here, soothe your nerves. All the while watching Miss Hunter's reactions to the storm. With every boom of thunder, she's startled from her reading. She does well trying to hide it. You can see the twitch in her eyes, the tension in her shoulders and hands as she holds tighter to the tablet, the way her knees pull in slightly more. It doesn't take a genius to see what's happening. The real question is why she's not doing anything to deal with it. Is it because she's trying to play it cool with you around? Not giving anything away so you'd have less to report back with?

You look around the room. It's nothing special. Certainly nothing as luxurious as the suites Sylus stays in. A suitcase is on the floor by the tv stand. A work bag is set on the desk. The perfect amount of stuff for a week-long work trip, you suppose.

You fly over to the desk, nails ticking against the wood.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

You poke your beak into a few of the pockets on the bag.

"Leave that alone! Don't go through my stuff!"

You wonder for a moment how soundproof these walls are, and just how confused someone listening in would be when she's answered by the caw of a crow.

You finally find what you're looking for in a side pocket and pull it out. It doesn't really fit well in your beak, but you make do. She's just tossed her tablet aside to jump up and bolt over to you, but she stops when you fly back over to the bed.

She blinks at you, confused. "What are you...?" You hop across the cheap bedding and hold out the item to her. She hesitantly accepts your offering, and you drop the earphone case in her hand. Understanding dawns on her. "Oh... thanks."

You walk to the other side of the bed, going around the tablet to roost on top of the untouched pillow. It's kinda hard and lumpy, but at least you're not outside. With that much water, you'd certainly shut down. You have no idea how Sylus would retrieve you if you had, way up here. A bitter part of you wonders if he would.

Miss Hunter watches as you tuck your beak under your wing. You don't really sleep during the night, but you'll manage. She slips the earphones in her ears and plays some music on her phone. The storm outside, the faint pulse of music, and her tapping on the tablet are the only sounds.

She opens the window for you in the morning, when the storm has passed. With one last warning not to follow her or report back to Sylus, she heads out for her mission and you take your time flying back home. She asked about the dove only once during your stay. A bandaid around her finger reminds her not to ask again.

-

"What time did you get back, pretty bird?" Sylus crosses the room from the doorway, fully dressed for the night and reaching out to scratch you under your chin.

You scoot away, further down your perch, glaring at the pretty white thing on his shoulder. He doesn't try to reach you. He lets you step away, hand dropping and eyebrow raised. "Are you going to be this feisty all week?"

You caw indignantly. Of course you are! That should be you perched up on his shoulder! You should be the one preening under his attention! Instead, Miss Hunter brings along a new, cute little thing, pestering him to take care of it "for her", and now it's the only bird around here he cares about.

He tsks. "You don't have to be jealous, sweetie. It's only for a week. As soon as she gets back, you'll never have to see it again."

The dove flies down from his shoulder to the perch. Your perch! You caw obscenities as you take its place on Sylus's shoulder - your rightful place. He winces at how loud you are directly in his ear, wings spread to give you a larger appearance as you speak your mind to the little dove that seems to only stare up blankly at you.

He smoothes a hand down your back. For a moment you forget how angry you are with him, too, for indulging Miss Hunter with this stupid task. For pushing you away in favor of caring for the pretty little dove. For not saying more when she called him about you. For just that moment, the firing synapses of your circuitry tingle pleasantly where his fingers brush over your feathers and seeing the dove on your perch becomes bearable as you stand on his shoulder, your favorite perch of all.

"Easy, pretty bird. It knows this is your territory," he assures. "It's still young, that's all."

And then you remember that none of this would be happening if this damn bird wasn't here.

You caw one last time at the dove, nibble harshly at Sylus's ear, and retreat through the living room door. You follow the familiar twists and turns up into the tallest heights of the base, into an alcove full of your treasures and soft bedding. You don't come up here often anymore, but it feels safe. The one spot of the house that really is just yours; no matter what Sylus says, this is his territory, you're just given more allowances than other people. And thanks to the times in the past when the twins would try to toss things up as a competition, tossing pebbles and jewels and even bullets, you have the privilege of pulling shut a little door, fully isolating yourself in your sanctuary.

Small lights turn on at the flip of a switch that makes a pleasant click. They shine and shimmer against your piles of trinkets. Coins, jewels, jewelry, a shell casing or two - all in their respective piles.

You hop over to your nest: the finest twigs woven together into a bowl shape, with strips of soft fabric lining the inside. Laying in it is like resting in cupped hands. You imagine they're Sylus's hands, clean from ever having held any other bird in his lifetime. His thumbs smoothing down your sides until your feathers are fluffed and eyes are relaxed shut. Pressing soft kisses to your head as he talks to you. You want to be cared for like that. Is the dove getting that same attention?

You get up from your nest. You can't think about it. Can't allow yourself to linger on the thought for any longer than you already have. So you sort through your things. You begin dividing them up into new piles with a different organization system. One by one, everything is shifted over. You're not sure how long it takes. You don't care.

But once you've finished, it feels wrong. Settles uneasily in your gut. Everything is out of place, even though it's all organized. Everything isn't where it should be. You spend even longer sorting it all back.

-

You squeeze your eyes shut. Tighten your hands into fists. Dig your nails into your palm as you will your shape to change. Grit your teeth as metal panels try to shift in unusual ways. Synthetic feathers standing up along your head, neck, back and arms, shuttering with the strain.

You release a breath and everything comes back together; metal in place, feathers laying flat, body un-tensed. You pant softly. Inhale deeply, and try again.

It feels wrong. It's like trying to squeeze into a too-small shirt. It won't happen, and the more you try to force it, the more it hurts, the more uncomfortable you are, and the more the fabric strains at the seams.

You gasp deeply. You're lightheaded. You wobble where you sit on the roof, supporting yourself unsteadily against the snow-laden tiles. It takes a minute to pass. Your skin feels misaligned, like a twisted sock. You try to ignore it; it just means you're a little bit closer to succeeding.

"I thought I might find you up here."

You turn away from the voice. From the sound of Sylus's shoes against the roofing. He sits down a few feet away, eyes never giving up their gaze on you. You hate it. For all the time you've known him, his attention on you has never made you uncomfortable or unsettled. Now, you wish he'd just look anywhere else. Go anywhere else.

Secretly, deep down, you're glad he's finally looking at you again.

He tilts his head. Frowns at the strange way your feathers stick up, and the odd shift of the synthetic skin on your back. "The dove is gone," he says.

You nod. "I know."

Quiet.

"Do you want me to apologize?" he asks.

You shrug. "Doesn't matter. It's gone."

"But you're still upset."

You pull your knees to your chest, but you can't pull them up as far as you'd like to. It's like there's too much strain. A rubber band drawn too far out and waiting to snap or break under the tension. You try to ignore it. Play it off. Pretend everything is normal and that this is intentional.

He doesn't buy it for a second. It's the curse of growing up with him. Of being by his side most of your lives. Of course he knows something is wrong.

You listen to the shifting of fabric behind you. Nearly jump at the feeling of cloth placed on your shoulders. His heavy black coat, long and still warm from his body. You don't feel the falling snow. Yet you can't stop yourself from pulling the front closed around you.

His fingers skillfully brush along your feathers, soothing them down with ease. And yet they keep standing back up a moment after, revealing the distress of your thoughts. Before he can say anything, you do.

"Do you wish I was a dove?"

His hand stops, pausing mid pet. He reaches out to turn you toward him. One hand on your knee to face you to him, the other on your shoulder. You wince as he does. And he notices - of course he notices. He's frowning, brow furrowed, as he pulls aside his coat to expose your legs further. You don't meet his eyes, but you feel them.

"Is that what you've been trying to do up here?" he questions, voice tight with concern and gravity. "You can't force yourself into changing-"

"But if I could, would that make you happier?"

You meet his gaze. Imploring, begging him to tell you. Tell you that he's been distant this week because he realized just how much better doves are. Because he realized how much trouble you are, mechanized and synthetic and fake. Because you aren't enough now that you can't be anything more than you are.

His large hands rise to your face, holding your cheeks, keeping your attention on him. He leans forward slightly, foreheads not quite touching. "If you could change again, I would be happy to see you become anything you wanted. Whether that means becoming a dove, or a hawk, or a hummingbird. The shape you take doesn't matter to me, because I fell in love with you. Crow, or dove, or human. Just you."

You search his eyes. Those pretty garnet eyes. Searching for any hint of a lie. But you already know he means it. "You were so dismissive of me..."

He frowns, brow pinched, but he nods. He doesn't deny it. "I know. I'm sorry."

Emotion chokes up in your throat. "You didn't even ask Miss Hunter about me. Or- Or keep that dove from getting up on your shoulder." You hate that you can feel your face crumpling as tears bite your waterline. See the pain in his face as he diligently wipes away the ones that slip free. You hate that you're so emotional over this - over a stupid bird, but- "I don't want to be replaceable. I don't want to be just a pet to you."

"You're not-"

"Then act like it!" His eyes widen, shocked by your outburst. "Just stop pushing me away for Miss Hunter. Stop... stop waving me off and ignoring me. You're all I have, Sylus. I can't- I don't want to be replaced."

A sob tears its way out of you. Sylus can't recall a time he ever saw you crying - before or after the experiments. You were always happy, or curious, or angry. But never had you cried. Synthetic tears wash down your face, and it's his fault. An ache clenches his heart like a closed fist. He did this. He pushed you away, he made you feel unworthy, unimportant. Let a dove take liberties in your territory.

He draws you into his chest, arms wrapping tightly around you. You don't resist, even as he feels your feathers standing on end. They shudder with your cries. He smoothes his palms over them. Brushes them down, scratches the nape of your neck as he gently shushes you. You press your face into his collar. Your fingers curl tightly into his shirt. You hold on. Cling to him like he'll disappear if you loosen up for even a second.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs against your head. He means it. Deeply. "I should have acted differently. You are my closest friend. My beloved. And I ignored you."

He rubs your back overtop his coat, slowly. Feeling along your spine, your shoulder blades. It's still misaligned. Shifted out of place. You're in pain - because of him.

He's careful as he gathers you into his arms. He scoops you up, cradles you against him while doing his best not to hurt you further; he can't bear the thought of making things worse than he already has. Snow crunches beneath his feet as he stands on the tiles. He turns and begins carrying you inside.

"Let's take care of you now, pretty bird."

-

Just like trying to squeeze into a too-tight shirt, the removal can be tricky. Sylus makes it seem easy.

He rotates your legs until they pop back into the ball-joint, never lingering any longer than he has to. You lay on your stomach, quietly sniffling, while he seems to massage your back, slowly easing the metal into place. Each fix releases the strain. Each soft click eases your feathers back into a resting position.

When he's finished, he helps you sit up. Your legs overhang the table, dangling in the air. He doesn't look at you at first. Busies himself with grabbing a cloth. But then he looks you in the eye as he wipes away the watery formula of your tears. His brow is tight. Lips pulled down into a frown. His eyes, filled with remorse. You can almost see the plan formulating: all the auctions he could go to to buy the shiniest, most interesting things you love to cheer you up; of all the jewels in his treasuries, which would you like the most, if he doesn't just give them all to you; where will Miss Hunter be and when to give you the perfect opportunity to play tricks on her.

You don't want any of them right now. After a week of being pushed aside, of being distant, all you want is right here in front of you.

You nudge his hand away. He obeys without hesitation, dropping the cloth to the table and holding it there, restraining himself. He watches, slightly bewildered, as you reach out for him. You wrap your arms around his neck, drawing him down to your height, and hold him there.

He stands still. Doesn't do anything.

You squeeze him around his shoulders and he finally moves. Arms circle your waist, hands resting open against your back. You breathe him in, soak in his warmth. Your feathers finally relax. You finally relax.

"I don't hate you," you whisper beside his ear.

He releases a long breath, shoulders sagging under your arms. He's still tentative, still careful as he brushes his nose against your temple. "How can I make it up to you?"

A thousand diamonds. A million. No amount is too much. Nothing too far for him to reach. He would bake in the sun for a week if you said. Fly across the globe in search of the perfect pebble. Give you a whole new set of feathers, darker than midnight and softer than a kiss. He's prepared to give it all - what lengths will you have him go to absolve himself? What would it take for you to forgive him? How can he fix the damage he caused?

"Stay with me."

"You can ask for anything."

You shake your head. Turn your head to bury your face solidly in his neck. "I just want you again."

'Again' tears his heart to shreds. He scoops you up once more, trading places so he sits on the edge of the table with you in his lap. Your territory. "You'll always have me," he swears. "And I will spend lifetimes making sure you never doubt that ever again."

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @that-lost-one @always-just-red @22carolina08 @lunaizhere @sine-nomine0 @beautifulthingsiadore @lalaluch @nothankyew @terriblesoup @jeleryyy @nezuswritingdesk @anaathxma @ssushi @mina7820 @monophobix @mentaltrouble2201 @mskaylacharite @nerrivm @ichosesparklingtorment @schnittled @animegamerfox @flamedancer13 @rebloggingislove @moonlight-inthe-sea @persepolys @satorubabee @sleepykittycx @perla-drg @17chuuya @slovesyouuu @leiakitty @lemonn015

[werecreature-addicted]

I remember some of your posts about a minotaur who lived with a peasant girl, can I ask for something about that? If it's not a bother of courseDue to the life that the minotaur has had, its instincts never appeared, that is, it never went through a stage of heat due to the stress and abuse to which it was subjected, but now everything is different, it is calmer, more relaxed, and it began to pay attention to a girl, specifically the girl she lives with, and apparently her instincts are beginning to appear, her body asks her to "mate" with her partner, although it is difficult to control herself, plus they are nothing yet and the girl does not know that minotaurs also go through a hot season, and it's not like she was going to ask him that, it would be very strange xd

(imagine that poor cock crying to enter the girl, but he must hide it, even if it is uncomfortable)

Sam master list for previous parts.

under the cut because this is long...for me at least.

Normally when it came to the physically demanding chores around the farm Sam liked to do the heavy lifting, literally. You were stronger than you looked but you still didn't have the monstrous strength that he did, and even besides that, he liked to spoil you. He'd never admit it out loud but he liked the way you sometimes watched him as he repaired the siding of a barn or hammered in a sense post. Something about the way your eyes followed him left a warm feeling in his belly. It's especially nice now that sometimes you kiss him after he's done a good job.

Now though, he just stands and stares as you work, nailing together bits of wood making your own saddle stand out of leftover bits of material. You looked so good, sweaty, and bent over your little bench. Is this how you felt when you watched him work? Sam doesn't even have the vocabulary to describe the strange heat that burns inside of him. He's supposed to be doing other work right now but he can't tear his eyes from you.

He wants to bend you over that saddle stand and- and what? He flinches back from the thought he didn't want to hurt you and he hates that his instincts are pushing him in that direction. But he wouldn't hurt you, his mind argues back. He wouldn't pin you down to hurt win a match or something. He'd be gentle. He'd pleasure you. Sam shudders. Where were these thoughts coming from?

His nostrils flare and even from across the barn, he can smell you and the salt of your sweat makes his cock throb. Sam sits down hard and pulls a nearby milk bucket over the large tent in his pants. He immediately feels stupid and tosses the pail aside, it did more to draw attention to his boner than hide it. He settles for just sitting awkwardly and hoping you don't notice.

How can Sam ever look you in the eye again after this? He supposes he shouldn't feel so guilty about being attracted to you but surely it's perverse to want you this badly when you're not even doing anything. At least if you were naked in bed trying to seduce him he'd have good reason to be this turned on. Sam shudders and replays the mental image of you, naked in bed, looking up at him trying to pull him towards you. Fuck he needed to get on top of you.

Just as that thought crossed his mind you bent over the waist-height wooden stand to grab something from your toolbox jutting your ass out in front of him. In a second Sam is on his feet, walking towards you before he can register what he's even doing, all he knows is that he needs you.

"oh, Sam-" you gasp, jumping a little when you turn to see him right behind you. For someone so big he moved silently. Sam takes a step forward and presses you back against the barn wall. "What's going on honey?" you ask trying to sound calm but you'd be lying if you said you weren't a little nervous about his behavior. Sam had always been so cautious with you, overly gentle and paranoid that he might hurt you by accident. The Sam you knew would never pin you against a wall like this, it was nervewracking but also exciting.

"I uhm I just wanted to be close to you I guess," he mumbled, lowering his snout to your shoulder as if he was smelling you. Sam steps closer and you feel something brush against your thigh at first you think it's his leg but you look down and realize it's his barely restrained cock poking into your thigh.

"Do- are you uhm in heat Sam?" You ask and the monster on top of you freezes.

"do- do minotaurs go into heat?" he asks puzzled.

"I guess I don't know but most monsters do have you really never gone into heat before?" You ask then wince, it made sense that he wouldn't go into heat when he was under such harsh conditions his body wouldn't let him go into such a vulnerable state.

"No," he said, his hips grinding softly against your thigh he groans at the friction and you can't help but shudder too. You might not go into heat but you did want him just as much. "Will you help me?" he asked desperately.

"yes- yeah, I'll help you let me just-" As soon as he has your consent all other thoughts fly out of his head. He pushes his mouth to yours kissing you and effectively shutting you up. This wasn't like any of the other soft and innocent kisses you and Sam had shared in the past this was heated, and needy and caused a warm heat to bloom inside of you. This isn't a kiss for the sake of kissing, this is a kiss that promises much much more to come.

Even desperate like this, Sam still tries to be gentle as he strips your clothes and kneels down so he can hook your legs over his broad, muscular shoulders, your back pressed to the wall of the barn he holds your weight easily.

"I'm going to get you nice and prepped for me, my cock is big and I need you to take every inch, okay?" he asks softly, kissing the soft skin of your inner thigh as his thick fingers ghost over your cunt.

"Hold my horns while you rid my face," Sam instructs. You look down at his horns, one normal and the other broken and jagged. You hesitated, you knew how much that broken horn hurt him and you didn't want to grab it, but before you could put much more thought into it Sam pressed his mouth to your cunt, running his large soft tongue over your folds getting you wet enough to slot his big fingers inside of you. You yelp and settle for holding on to his good horn with one hand and tangling your fingers in his hair with the other.

Sam's cock ached. He needed to be buried inside of you, but he held himself back. He imagined the pained squeak you'd make if he tried to fuck you without any prep and that was almost enough to snap him out of his lusty haze. Almost.

You lose count of how many times you cum as he stretches you out and gets you ready for his dick, eventually though he decides that you're ready for him, or he just gets tired of waiting. Your legs tremble and for a second you worry you're not going to be able to stand on your own but you needn't worry, Sam had no intention of letting you stand. he readjusts his grip so that your legs are over his forearms and he pins you against the wall again his cock nudging your opening, slipping up your pussy as he tries unsuccessfully to push into you. His cock head bumps your clit and you feel a pulse of warm precum ooze out onto your hot skin making you shudder, your thighs tense in his arms, and Sam grunts, spreading your legs a little further as he grinds his cock over your cunt again.

You reach between your two bodies and grasp his cock. You curse silently to yourself feeling the weight and girth of it for the first time. You stroke him a few times before you guide his dick inside of you.

Sam had been so careful to be gentle with you this whole time, but now that he feels your tight heat gripping him in a way he's never felt before he no longer has the restraint. His brain shuts off and he feels more like a beast than he has in years. Sam slams his hips against yours burying his cock to the hilt in one swift motion. You cry out and dig your nails into his biceps, holding on for dear life as he thrusts into you with all the strength of a bull plowing a field. You're pretty sure you hear something crack and for a minute you aren't sure if it's you or the barn wall behind you that's breaking.

Sam groans loudly as he sinks his cock into you over and over again. His hips have a mind of their own as they steadily rock back and forth. He hates to admit it, but every time you cry out in pleasure or in pain it makes his cock throb. He would have thought the sound of you hurting-hurting because of him, would be enough to break his heart instead it makes him whimper and only fuels his desire to fuck you harder and fill you with his cum until you were swollen with it.

The mental image of you bloated with his seed proves to be too much for him and with one more deep stroke he cums deep inside of you, his legs shake with the relief of finally breeding you. He pulls you away from the wall and crashes backward into a hay bail laying down to catch his breath while keeping you impaled on his cock.

It feels right to have you on his chest and be surrounded by the earthy comforting smell of hay and dirt. You shift a little and his hands fly up to your hips pushing you back down.

"Stay... please," he almost begs softly.

"I'm not going anywhere, Sam, I just want to get off your dick," you promise, trying to shift again. then he looks at you with the saddest most pleading look you've ever seen. his big brown cow eyes sparkling at you.

"Please don't, I want to be inside of you so you can feel me get hard again before I fuck you," he mumbles pleadingly. how could you say no to that face?

[im-so-normal-iswear]

Had an idea of yandere sonic or tails x reader who can't read or mabye cant read good enough, mabye they get a love letter mailed and he tells you something entirely different to hid it from you, and youd have a level of dependancy you know?

I dunno sorta kinda new to requests and tumblr as a whole just a thought

A/n: sorry for taking long on this

Yandere Sonic/tails x Reader who can't read

Sonic:

Sonic is quick to notice that reading isn't your strong suit. It doesn’t bother him at first. You stumble over words, sometimes avoiding tasks that involve reading altogether, and it sparks his protective instincts.

At first, he helps you in small ways, reading menus, helping you write notes, and guiding you through anything that requires comprehension.

Slowly, Sonic realizes how much power he holds in this situation. You trust him greatly, relying on him to guide you through tasks and information. But he would never abuse that trust and use it for his advantage... Right?

When you receive a letter in the mail, Sonic is the first to find it. Opening it up and skimming through it. Upon realizing its a love letter, he immediately is not having it.

When you ask about the letter, Sonic laughs it off, holding it up like it’s nothing.

"Oh, this? It’s just junk mail. Something about a... uh, local discount or something. Don’t worry about it, I'll just toss it for you."

From that point on he is always trying to help you out, reading things for you, to be more helpful. Emails, messages, etc. You're slowly starting to rely on him more and more.

If and when you start talking about wanting to improve your reading, Sonic subtly discourages it.

"Hey, why bother? You’ve got me for that stuff. Besides, we’ve got more fun things to do than stare at boring books, right?"

If you push the issue, he’ll sabotage your efforts. He might hide the materials you need to practice or distract you with sudden outings.

"Come on, let’s take a run! Reading can wait."

If someone else tries to get close to you, he’ll intercept their messages and replace them with his own fabrications. He’s so casual about it too, you might never even question it.

He genuinely believes that keeping you in the dark is the best way to keep you safe, and to keep you his.

Tails:

Tails immediately notices how you cabt read. He pities it, and immediately goes out of his way to start heloing you out by reading things for you, planning on teaching yiu to read after a while.

At first, his help seems innocent. He patiently explains things, reads signs aloud, and even offers to help you with learning to read better himself. You find his kindness endearing, and at this point he is genuinely trying to help you.

When the love letter arrives, Tails spots it before you do. His sharp eyes catch the handwriting, and his heart sinks as he realizes someone is trying to steal your attention.

Tails doesn’t just hide the letter he carefully reads it, analyzing the handwriting and tone to learn more about this potential suitor. Then, he burns the letter in his workshop, making sure no trace of it remains.

"Oh, you got something in the mail? It was just one of those generic ads. Nothing important." His voice is calm, his face perfectly composed.

Tails begins to take over more aspects of your life, presenting it as acts of kindness. He offers to organize your schedule, manage your bills, and even write your grocery lists.

If you ever feel embarrassed about your struggles, Tails is quick to reassure you.

"Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to do everything on your own. That’s why you have me."

He becomes your shadow, always there to help, because thats what friends do, no?

After sone time of becoming more attached tobyiu, he stops offering to help with your reading. Infact, like Sonic, Tails actually starts to discourages your attempts to improve your reading skills.

"Learning takes time, and you’re already so busy. Dont worry, I'll just handle it for now, okay?"

He goes a step further by subtly undermining your confidence. If you misread something, he’ll correct you in a way that feels condescending.

"Oh, that’s not what it says, like at all... Here, let me fix it for you."

Tails uses his engineering skills to keep tabs on you. He installs hidden cameras and microphones in your home, ensuring he knows exactly who you’re talking to and what you’re doing.

If someone else tries to connect with you, Tails will intercept their messages, deleting or altering them before they reach you.

"Looks like your friend canceled on you again. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you company."

[p3sephone]

No escape (Dark! Natasha Romanoff x reader x dark! Steve Rogers)

Summary: Natasha and Steve found a common interest, and that is you. But then you say things like you want to break up, and then escape. So, of course they take you back, and then make sure you understand the hardest way you can't really leave them.

Warnings: past non-con, physical and psychological abuse, manipulation, Natasha is a warning herself, kidnapping, drugging, future non-con implied, dark thought on reader. This is a dark story with dark themes, so minors are NOT ALLOWED, only +18. I don't own these characters.

Note: okay so, I kinda have a little thought about turning this into a serie or at least make part 2. What do you think? Anyway, any comment, like or reblog is truly appreciated. <3 Requests are open!

She didn't know what was going through her mind. It was something crazy what she had just done, and yet Natasha continued to drive towards her desolate destination while your helpless and drugged body was in the back of the seats. She had to admit, she had always been determined and rigid in her decisions, but even she wavered sometimes. Especially when it came to you. But you were so stubborn, what was she supposed to do?

You had left her. You had left her and Steve. She still remembered the conversation from days ago.

"I want to break up."

They were extremely simple words, but coming out of your mouth they were truly surreal. Natasha focused directly on you with an expressionless look, while Steve was already getting more nervous as he started to walk towards you. Natasha had always been the one who talked less than Steve: she was the one more inclined to inflict punishments and make you cry, Steve agreed with her but only when necessary.

If it were up to Natasha, you would have been locked up in that New York apartment at all hours and without the possibility of leaving. She remembered how your relationship was at the beginning: you, Steve and her. It had been born spontaneously, or rather, well, Natasha had perhaps manipulated more than a few things to ensure that the three of you ended up together and that Steve would give her more support when it came to having a firm hand on you.

If only she had had her way, those stupid words would never have come out of your mouth. Steve immediately asked the reasons and Natasha made a face of contempt at you. No, she was not willing to get into that conversation, because there was nothing to discuss: you would not have moved from there, far from them. She had to remind you that, even before Steve, Natasha had seen you for the first time. You were hers. Then the blond noticed you and Natasha didn't mind sharing with him, also because she knew she needed help in the early days because she knew we would get to this point without the right discipline.

"I don't feel good in this relationship anymore, I want… I want the life I had before." Natasha understood how uncertain you were when talking and did what she knew how to do best: manipulate you. She had manipulated you in every way, listing every single thing they had done for you, how well they treated you not only during your daily routine, but also during the nights you spent alone before.

That day she remembered that made you cry a lot, from humiliation. You felt humiliated deep down and somehow you knew that Natasha and Steve were wrong, but your body didn't have the strength to pull back from the long session of suffocating cuddles they forced you to after that argument.

Natasha remembered all of that vividly. Yet, her manipulation, her ways, even her kindness and mercy towards you hadn’t been enough to keep you confined in that apartment. Somehow that adorable head of yours had managed to find a way to escape from them. Steve was the first to discover it, and he felt mostly concern, followed by sadness and anger. Natasha knew Steve: he was a good guy, but if you pressed the right spots he became exactly like her. And Natasha didn’t need the Steve who was kind and adorable to you, she needed the other Steve, the same one you had dealt with one night when you had decided to reject them both in bed and insulted them. You had suffered some bruises and a bad headache, but Natasha remembered how well you had behaved in the days that followed.

Natasha’s mind suddenly cleared. She had done the right thing, she had followed you to that bar and drugged your soft drink, she had finally dragged you away without your dumb friends noticing anything. Oh, she would fix them later, but first she needed to teach you a lesson. She sneered wickedly. She just had to press that button. So, she called Steve. The infamous captain didn't take long to answer, looking all worried.

"Steve, I got her back. I'm taking her to our plan b, that place you know about." Natasha didn't even give him time to speak and continued in a stiff, angry voice. "Do you know where she was? She wasn't in danger. She was with her friends, in a bar and dressed in a shabby way. She had a man on her and she was completely ready for his attentions, you have no idea how she was dancing. She dressed like we always forbade her to, she drank and accepted a bag of… I don't know, but I took her out of there. I did the right thing, didn't I, Steve?"

Natasha didn't need an answer. She had actually lied: you weren't doing any of that, you were just talking to your friends and when a man approached you you politely rejected him like the beautiful little girl you are.

But Natasha had to make you understand that there were consequences if you ran away from them, and Steve would never guarantee those consequences unless she said the things he hated the most.

Natasha thought you were cute in those short, skimpy dresses, it just made her want to rip them off, Steve preferred a more conservative part. Natasha hated it when anyone else paid attention to you, Steve did the same. Natasha liked you when you were drunk because you couldn't remember what she did to you during that time, Steve… well, he might be lying but he actually liked you too, even if with more guilt.

"I'm coming." Steve didn't give Natasha time to say anything else, he had already hung up. The red-haired woman looked at your poor, still helpless and unaware figure in the mirror. You had no idea what was waiting for you but Natasha did, and she was going to savor every second of it. You'll never leave her again, she'll make sure of it.

[creatie123]

CHOI SU-BONG/THANOS X PREGNANT!PREADER PART 2

Part 1 Part 2 part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6.1 Part 6.1

tw: mentions of suicide, abusive tendencies, strong language, light manipulation, emotional whiplash, drug use

“Green light!’ the doll calls out.

We all start walking forward. When the doll calls out red light the man, 456, shouts out for everyone to freeze. I can't help but flinch every time. We have made it to about half way when a girl starts screaming. She laughs and says something, then there is a loud bang. 456, starts yelling orders. For people to not move. I'm confused until a lady screams and people start running. There are many loud bangs as the voice on the intercom reads out a list of players that are eliminated. 

456 finally gets everyone's attention telling them to get in single file lines with taller people in the front. I hide behind a tall girl. She was the girl who I was behind in the stairwell. The intercom repeats the rules before the doll calls out ‘green light’ again. 

We have almost made it to the finish when my stomach starts cramping and I lean over to grip the girl's shirt groaning in pain. 

“Hey are you ok?” she asks.

“Yes yes. Just.. just a stomach ache.” If people know I'm pregnant they may think I'm weak.

When we cross the finish line I look back out over the crowd and see the amount of blood sprayed over the field. I double over and spill my guts.

“Celina.” I hear his voice.

I freeze and go to walk away but a hand on my upper arm spins me around.

“What the hell are you doing here?” su-bong asks me.

His pupils are huge and I give him a disapproving look. I shrug his hand off my arm and turn to walk away, getting mixed with him is not something I want to do right now. Once again I find myself being forced to look at him. 120 grabs me and pulls me behind her. Glaring down at him. He scowls up at her before turning to walk away.

She turns too look at me with concern. “Friend of yours?”

I place my hand on my stomach. “Uhm..”

Her eyes widened “oh.. Oh!”

“Shhh. Please I cant have people thinking i'm not a good teammate.” she nods.

When we are all taken back to the main room I feel fatigue set in and I immediately go to lay in my bed thankfully I don't have blood on me like most players so I don't need to take my jacket off yet, not like I want to. The scars that litter my arms I know would cause unwanted attention. 

“Uhm… 121?” I hear a soft voice behind me.

“Hm? Oh 222, hi.” I say

Behind her are an elderly woman and a younger boy. 120. Is also with them.

“Can I help you guys?”

“We were wondering if you would want to team up with us?” she asks.

My eyes widen and I feel unnecessary tears well in my eyes. I nod my head

The sliding suddenly opens and the man with the square mask starts talking. A lady begins begging for him to let her go. Before I know it we are in the process of taking a vote for who wants to stay and leave. We started with 456, I watched su-bong skip up to the button and press the o, our eyes met for a second before I turned away. When my number is called I slowly walk up to the button my hands trembling. The internal debate of getting out alive but the mountain of debt I have. I hope to survive and get out with the money. Suddenly I felt a kick in my belly. I gasp and lean over the button. Guilt racks my heart as I forgot I am not deciding for only myself anymore. A tear escapes my eye, as I hit the x, the room shining red for just a second. I hear a mix of sighs of relief and disappointment. I receive my patch and go to stand beside 222 and the elderly lady. Even without looking I can feel his eyes on me. When the voting is done I feel tears escape my eyes when I see that we will be staying for another game. I walk back to my bed in defeat. When I got there su-bong was already sitting there with his friend.

“So I wasn’t just high. You really are her babe.” he says getting up.

I back away from him falling onto someone else's bed.

“What are you doing here babe?”

“Don't call me that su- thanos.” he would always get annoyed if I called him su-bong in public.

“Don’t be like that, I have missed you girl.” he says grabbing my wrist and pulling me down so I am sitting in his lap.

Panic as his arms wrap around my stomach and his body stills. At that exact moment my child has chosen now would be a good time to be active. And I can feel him kick my stomach. Right. Against. His. hand. 

“What the fuck. Are you-” I shoot up out of his hold and bolt off to the bathroom.

Slamming the door open I kneel in front of the toilet and empty my guts. Tears burn my eyes at the burning feeling in the back of my throat and the aching in my chest. The door to the bathroom slams open and I hear su-bong calling out my name. He sounds beyond furious. I sit huddled on the toilet clutching my stomach. I remember all to late that the door is not locket as its slams open omitting a crashing sound when it hits the wall.

“Are you.” it wasn't a question at this point.

I simply nod, I try but the tear will not stop.

“Is it mine.” again it was not a question.

I nod. Before I can blink he is kneeling in front of me staring at my stomach. He reaches out slowly being met with a little kick in return. His face is full of hurt confusion and anger.

“How far along are you.”

“24 weeks.” I whisper, dropping my head.

“How long have you known.”

“I found out at 14 weeks.” 

“And you left me at 10.”

“Su-bong I-” I am cut off with him slamming his fist into the wall. I flinch and shrink into the toilet seat.

I yell out as his fist tangles in my hair and yanks my head back to look at him. His jaw is tense and his pupils are shot.

“How did you find out.”

“I-I.”

“Dont fucking stutter when you talking to me bitch.” he spits yanking my hair again.

My scalp burns with the abuse. “I found out when I was at the hospital!” I cry.

“Why the fuck where you at the hospital, celina.”

“Su-” a sharp tug on my hair corrects me. “Thanos, please stop hurting me.” I sob.  

“Baby you know I hate repeating myself.”

“I wanted to die!” I sob.

His motions freeze. I think I could hear his breathing stop for a moment.

“You. you tried?” I nod the best I could with his grip on my hair.

Before I know it I am being pulled into my ex’s arm. He cradles my head to his chest and I bury my face in his chest letting out all my frustration and sadness and anger. And god damn it i missed him. I missed my su-bong.

“Can I see?” I hear him whisper.

Sniffling, I pull back and look at him, “see?”

He looks at my stomach.

“My arms are… gross.”

He just cocks his head at me like a stupid fucking puppy not understanding why its getting scolded. This is why I hate it when he is on drugs. He gets so bipolar.

“I want to see,” he says placing his hand on my stomach again.

I sigh. With trembling hands I unzip my hoodie and let it slide down my area. My short sleeve shirt is just slightly too tight against my growing bump. Despite wanting to see my belly his eyes immediately lock onto my arms and his face contorts into an emotion I have never seen on his face. I wrap my arms around myself. 

“Before I came here.” he pauses, placing his hands on my shoulders and running them down to take my hands. “The recruiter found me on a bridge. I was gonna jump. There was my debt and then the drugs and before I knew it you were gone and I didn’t know where you were. I missed you so much baby.” 

I’m the one to pull him into me this time “su-bong-”

The door to the bathroom slams open, cutting off what I was about to say. We both whip around to look at who just entered.

~~~

hi everyone I am happy that I got to post this chapter so soon, I am sorry about the second cliffhanger in a row, I cant say anything other than I hope you think them as much as do. Let me know what you think! or if you want me to take a brake from this story and focus on a specific request, my requests are always open!

till next time

-Creatie

[heartz4levi]

AH WAITER MORE DEWEY PLEASE..!! 🫶🏼

vitamins, that d, i'm good i'm healthy !

☆ thinking abt dewey nsfw headcannons . .

☆ dewey (alnst) ,, gn reader . . dom!dewey ,, sub!reader ,, BIIIG dick dewey ,, dewey is nasty.. NASTY i tell u... ,, manhandling ,, semi—public sex ,, dewey is shameless and oh my god i desire him so carnally no way he isn't real ,, my fingers r so cold that they feel like they're nearly paralyzed so i didn't get to write all that much </3.

first off, dewey's dick is big. it's fat and he has to make you cum multiple times on his fingers and his tongue to ensure that you're properly stretched out before lubing you up and preparing you to take him in. even then it's a tight fit..

it'll feel like your hole is being split into bits and pieces at first, but when you finally adjust and he finds a suitable place, you'll be on cloud nine. his cock doesn't leave a single crevice of your insides untouched, tip kissing that particularly sensitive spot of yours so effortlessly that he doesn't even have to search for it.

unlike some, dewey doesn't make love, dewey fucks. everything he does to you is too nasty, too lewd to consider it as him making love to you. if you were to ask, he would try to be more gentle, try and set a slower pace, but all of his self restraint crumbles the second he feels you clenching down on his dick. yeah.. no, he can't hold back.

speaking about the nasty and lewd things dewey does to you, here's a small list of the aforementioned 'things'. only if you're into that sort of stuff and give him permission to do it, though.

spits in your mouth — he'll tell you to open your mouth and, with a shit–eating grin, will let a fat glob of his saliva fall down onto your tongue before instructing you to swallow. if you ask him to spit in your mouth instead of him initiating it, he'll get bricked up on the spot.

puts you in a headlock — he has muscles and he likes to show them off. whenever he has you on all fours, dewey likes to tower over your frame and wrap one meaty arm around your neck, keeping you in place while he fucks you dumb on his cock. the way you look at him when he does that, eyes glazed over and half–lidded.. it's enough to make him cum on the spot, honestly.

manhandles you — again, he has muscles and he likes to show them off. if you ask to ride him, he'll agree, but before you can even begin to move your hips he's already physically bouncing you up and down on his cock. whenever the sensation of his dick abusing your poor insides becomes too much and you try to crawl away, he immediately pulls you back by the hips.

will fuck you in semi–public places — dewey is not afraid to pull you into a secluded spot and take you right then and there. if you're hanging out with him and a few of his friends from the rebellion, dewey will whisk you away in the middle of a conversation without giving any explanations. he'll find a relatively safe hiding spot, press you up against the wall or trap you on the floor and make you see stars.

by the way, he will come back afterwards acting as if nothing happened. dewey will seem and look completely unaffected, meanwhile you look like a disheveled mess — hair ruffled up, legs wobbly, both lips swollen and barely able to form any coherent sentences. if anyone is bold enough to ask, however, dewey will shamelessly admit to what he has done to you.

'what he has done to you' always meaning he wrecked your shit with the help of the big dick everyone knows he is in possession of.

[angelic-dew]

Can I get yandere alphabet list with tanjiro?? Thank you babes <3

# yandere alphabet list !

✧༉‧₊˚୨ 🕸 ୧・author's note :: sorry for the delay, my posting schedule isn't the most consistent! I got this list from @dear-yandere to use as reference.

✧༉‧₊˚୨ 🔪 ୧・pairing :: Tanjiro K. x g/n reader — {you/your pronouns}

✧༉‧₊˚୨ ⛓ ୧・trigger warnings :: yandere. isolation. kidnapping. unhealthy obsessions. delusions. some ooc. mentions of drugs. mental abuse. manipulation. gaslighting. stalking. grammatical errors. ⁞⁞ LETTERS A—P

⚝. Just a reminder I don't tolerate nor do I encourage the following topics in reality; I like keeping it strictly to fiction.

[A]ffection :: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Tanjiro is an interesting individual when he becomes lovesick. His undying love for you only burns pure passion and lust into the deepest depths of his heart for you; so it's no surprise he tries to show you his affection in every way he humanly can. I see his main love languages being words of affirmation and quality time, of course, some others slip in as well, just not as much such as gift-giving and acts of service. So he's willing to go to many lengths for you, he always strives to give you his utter best and nothing less.

[B]lood :: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Not much in particular, he would never hurt innocent civilians and villagers regardless of how much jealousy tries to tempt him into acting in such a manner. He would rather try to isolate you from that person(s) completely rather than kill them off, though, he does get sudden urges to act upon those deeds. Now, if it's a demon, then it's fair game. The brutality would really show in his actions if it were a demon, like a fire luminously burning in his chest as he fights it courageously, just for you.

[C]ruelty :: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

No, he would never dream of showing what's truly stored beneath the surface of his kind smile. Even though you got abducted by him, he would still treat you with the same vehement amount of endearment; if not, maybe a bit more since you have no one to go to besides him if there's any such issue. He likes this feeling of being depended on. Kamado would definitely make you dependent on him but also restrict some of your access to certain parts in your place of capture by keeping a heavy chain tightly secured to your ankle.

[D]arling :: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Of course, he would, not intentionally though; he really doesn't mean to act upon it in these such ways but his self-control slips at certain times when rage begins to consume him entirely. I see him always wanting to be around you, therefore, that can translate to taking you on various missions with him with or without your permission. He lives and breathes you, it's no surprise he'd also tend to drug you from time to time with sleeping medication so you can barely remember a thing when you end up in a foreign location.

[E]xposed :: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Before your 'disappearance', I would assume he would be very subtle with his emotions towards you; of course, he would be a little too friendly towards you but what's the harm in that? You two are just best friends, nothing more or nothing less, sharing a close bond together is all that it is. Now, when his true colours are revealed, he'd be much more open with you concerning his feelings, reminding you every night that you're with him that you're his only true love, whispering words of compassion, professing his love for you repeatedly in hopes you'd see him in the same way he sees you. Very vulnerable indeed.

[F]ight :: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

He is not pleased in the slightest. Tanjiro loves you, why can't you just see that he means all well to you. His one and only radiant angel sent from above; he doesn't harm you even though he is edged to do so, his violent tendencies are getting worse and worse. He simply sees you being unhappy with the situation, he only attempts to console and softly mutter words of how much you mean to him. It's only for your own good after all, he's doing this for you, can't you see that? Hopefully one day you'll realize that your actions of lashing out are futile.

[G]ame :: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

This situation is far from comical to Tanjiro. There is no such entertainment in having his darling try to leave him when he desperately needs them more than ever. So, attempts to escape do enrage him to an extent but he could never actually get upset with you. Not all can bare with these types of experiences, so he doesn't blame you. All he has to do is up the ante in barriers and security in your place of capture. And maybe do the same for you.

[H]ell :: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Hmm, if I had to pick, it would be the few times he deprived you of food and water as a form of punishment. Strengthening your restraints and such as well, causing nasty bruises to form along your wrists. That and the time he locks you up for long durations in pitch darkness as another form of punishment. But this treatment type only comes when you seriously cross the line.

[I]deals :: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

He planned everything out already! He wants an estate and to be married and four kids and a pet chicken named Kota! But in all seriousness, he sees himself falling for you further in the future and you doing the same to him. He sees you walking down the aisle looking utterly extravagant! That's the main thing he dreams of each night. To make it official with you. To tie you with him until death do you both part.

[J]ealousy :: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Not really, but he can't control it when he does get this strong feeling. He usually tries to be passive-aggressive with his jealousy, uttering snarky remarks under his breath but never anything too direct. He usually sulks in his jealousy until he reminds himself that you truly belong to him and him only! It's pretty useless wasting emotions on those who aren't worth it.

[K]isses :: How do they act around or with their darling?

Fairly.. normal in public spaces. I mean, it is Tanjiro after all, he acts cheerful and sweet, comforting when he needs to. He acts like his usual self, however, there is a distinct possessive nature which lurks deep within him that comes out of hiding ever so often. He is keen on having your attention all to himself, and will become highly frustrated if someone were to even hold you in a conversation.

[L]ove letters :: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Easy. I think that Kamado would definitely be a strong believer that all relationships last longer when they are friends or good acquaintances before pursuing an actual relationship; ergo, he would attempt to befriend you before dropping some hints on the matter.

[M]ask :: Are their true colours drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Not entirely, Tanjiro is Tanjiro, he will always be what he is, a good person deep down that wants nothing more than to help others in need, but you, you bring out something he could have never imagined himself being like - How hostile he could truly get around others when they've done nothing wrong, a sense of urgency always takes over him when he's with you, and he'd be very clingy, you must pay attention to him! and him only.

[N]aughty :: How would they punish their darling?

As I stated previously in [H]ell, I would say he isn't one for many punishments. The most he'll do (when you're finally abducted of course), is tighten your restraints to the point you feel like you're losing circulation to that area. The cold steel tightens around your wrists, almost making your hand feel completely numb; now that would be the worst. The second type of punishment is depriving you of food and water for at least a day or two, while you're stuck in the darkness, with only his voice to alleviate your whines and needs.

[O]ppression :: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

The most Kamado would do is restrict you from having much freedom; when he 'punishes' you, he cracks away at your basic needs: nutrients, food and water. So I would say that's bad by itself but your social interaction will also be limited, as expected. The only one you could ever truly see besides him is Nezuko, and even then, she has issues with her speech.

[P]atience :: How patient are they with their darling?

Extremely patient, it's kind of scary at times, he rarely ever snaps - and if he does it's not something noticeable. The only thing that would change is that his always soft smile would shift into more of a neutral frown accompanied by a blank stare. Another thing about Tanjiro is that he's incredibly understanding, which makes him more tolerable than other yanderes, in turn, he can see why you will not enjoy these circumstances. So take all the time you need to adjust.

© angelic-dew, please don't translate or reclaim without permission <3

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

okay so first off. what does being "full on adults" have to do with disliking a character? like?? are we not allowed to dislike or criticize fiction once we cross the age of eighteen?

secondly, i love how they imply that we hate catra because of some sexist reason, but then lists mostly women among the characters who were immediately forgiven and faced no criticism from the viewers. so maybe it's not people "hating on complex female characters" maybe we just dislike poorly written ones.

and who said people don't hold hordak, scorpia, entrapta, etc accountable for their actions? we do, it's just that catra played a more important role in the story as the main villain and adora's love interest so obviously she's under more scrutiny.

we also see her commit more heinous crimes on screen, unlike scorpia and lonnie who were just following orders and hordak whose crimes were all lipservice. it's a lot easier to like a character who only committed heinous crimes off-screen. again, not justifying hordak's behavior, i just think the writers failed to make him an actual threat.

also i don't know how the nimona comics were but in the movie, ballister and ambrosius did have a relatively healthier relationship than catra and adora. mainly because ambrosius never hurt ballister on purpose and he genuinely felt guilty for his actions. even when he turned on nimona, he did it to protect ballister. he wasn't just using all forms of abuse on his boyfriend just for the fun of it, and excusing it by saying that he had a shitty childhood.

"(...) in terms of Catra, we saw the beginning of her redemption arc but she still worked towards it. She still took time to reflect, give genuine apologies to the Best Friends Squad, and turn around for the better."

i'm sorry? when did she apologize to the best friends squad? because i only remember her giving a half-assed apology to adora. glimmer and bow never got an apology from catra. glimmer especially deserved an apology because catra's actions led to her mother's death. also, i've already talked about how catra didn't actually change for the better and kept repeating her toxic habits, so i trust i don't have to say it again.

i do agree that in azula's case, the hate was more undeserved, mainly because none of her actions were justified by the narrative. and like op said, azula didn't have someone to offer her proper guidance.

(although i have to remind you, ursa never called azula a monster. she disapproved of azula's behavior but the monster part was just how azula perceived it. but i guess you know more about these shows than me, right?)

and that's where catra's actions can't be justified because she got multiple ways out, people in her life were constantly giving her chances, and she still chose to do evil. catra had all the resources she needed to become a better person, she was given opportunity after opportunity from the very first episode, and she still chose to participate in the war and chose to abuse and hurt people.

[aliusfrater]

hello, can you please share more thoughts and elaborate on dean viewing sam as an extension of himself? and how does that reflect on the way he treats him?

yes! personally, this is the basis of the dean-sam dynamic — in the same way dean's lack of personhood is intrinsic to and stems from the john-dean(-sam) dynamic — that i think is realised only when dean begins the adoption of the role of patriarch in season two when the whole responsibility of sam's life is passed on from john onto dean in 2.01 through the inheritance of 'save him or kill him'. i think it stems from:

the dichotomy of monstrosity and dean's view of sam's monstrosity as a personal failing. — Sammy as 'the innocent' 'us' to be protected.

dean's self-perpetuated parentification that manifests within his view of himself as sam's ultimate protector his inability to live without sam.

dean as both an authoritative figure regarding 1) the dichotomy of monstrosity and sam's existence within it, and 2) consequence as well as the foundation of sam's personhood and reality as it relates to hunting and their relationship, which is his life.

which exist simultaneously and lead to while also stemming from each other. i think it's also essential to recognise that the sam that is an extension of dean is the idea of sam as Sammy, the role of dean's little brother and a role that sam fundamentally struggles to fit within based on the differences of their experiences within the john-dean-sam dynamic and how that manifests within their individual values.

regarding how it affects the way dean treats sam: i think dean's actions are a symptom of every root causation listed above, as well as the ways in which their roles both within the john-dean-sam and dean-sam dynamic are perpetuated within every structure that surrounds these relationships: the dichotomy of monstrosity, the cycle of abuse, the cycle of grief, of revenge and even an allegorical patriarchal structure. quite foundationally, i think dean begins to assume the position of a patriarch from the moment of john's death but specifically, the passing sam's life onto dean with the job of 'saving sam or (if he cannot), killing him' (re: sam's probable monstrosity), which is an extension of dean's childhood parentification. dean's view of sam as an extension of himself manifests within both the winchester familial role that dean holds as well as dean's self-perpetuation of this role, which also perpetuates the structures that revolve around the dean-sam dynamic and the conditions of sam's own (non)role¹.

the thing is that it's such an expansive idea that spans their entire relationship (past season one, anyway) and fundamentally changes sam's character post-cage (after which dean's presence is entirely unconditional to sam's reality and sam begins to adopt a lot of similar views of structure synonymity with his and dean's relationship that mostly dean had previously held). it's in every resurrection dean attempts or undertakes, it's in every lie and secret dean keeps to himself on sam's behalf (2.22, s3 when dean learns but doesn't tell sam that ruby can't help save dean, 6.12, 7.03, gadreel, 15.16), it's even fundamental to the way most basic way in which dean hunts—protect the innocent, protect Sammy, even at the expense of the will of the victim (a la ghoul!adam 4.19 or even claire 12.16). it's even in dean's tendency towards physical domestic violence that tends to turn up in a lot of instances during which sam behaves beyond the dynamic of his and dean's relationship; this idea does extend beyond the physical though. for example:

despite reoccurring explicit examples sam's monstrosity in season two, dean is able to stretch an aspect of the dichotomy of monstrosity to fit sam within the 'us' of 'us vs them/hunter vs monster/innocent vs intruder'. he remains Sammy, dean's little brother that dean continually 'defies' john's dying wish in favour of and this invariable aspect of sam's identity is compartmentalised as being separate from Sammy. this is even repeated in season three, and sam's straying from his non-role, from the script of Sammy And Dean, is considered indicative of a monstrosity dean is reluctant to admit. in season four, sam's straying from his non-role with indications of monstrosity is met with dean's reluctance to stretch the dichotomy of monstrosity to fit him within the role of the innocent; sam, the monstrous, begins encroaching upon Sammy, the little brother to be protected. this is the monster killing show, sam's monstrosity is worthy of death should dean decide so, hence, 4.21.

5.16, in which sam's desire for an existence beyond the synonymity of the dynamics of their family with hunting, sam's desire for normalcy, his difference in familial values and, by proxy, his attempt at existing outside of his non-role as an extension of dean (in which sam is dean's Sammy) is perceived as sam's abandonment of dean by dean and is then conflated with sam's relationship with ruby and sam's season four attempt at independence from his and dean's relationship which is then encapsulated within dean's disposing of the amulet, a symbol of their childhood relationship dynamic, an action that is representative of dean's authoritative position and dean's ability to redefine the boundaries of sam's role and dean's ability redefine sam's inclusion within the family. the same is true for the real voicemail dean intends to leave for sam in 4.22.

most recently (as in based on when i got this ask), i made explicit reference to sam as an extension of dean in commentary about sam and dean's gadreel arc in the first half of season nine and fundamentally the issue there stems all the way from and throughout season eight in which dean is grappling for control for the entirety of their relationship especially when it comes to the prospect of sam existing outside of it. there's the purgatory conflict and then there are the trials in which dean already decides for them both as well as their relationship the way in which the trials are to go in 8.14 without sam's input. he backtracks to the ideal of sam existing outside of his and dean's relationship into an idea in which sam does but on his terms and this perpetuates throughout sam's undergoing on the trails. dean struggles to grasp for control over sam's worsening health and makes it for up through basically helicoptering his decisions and every day life and there's a major aspect in which that childhood dynamic comes out and he attempts to infantilise sam to enact his care for him. he tries to take care of him, he pilots and hovers, he demands to read things for sam, he demands to decide things for sam/on sam's behalf, and he tries to cancel out a lot of different agencies that sam tries to enact while his health worsens (case in point: the case they work with charlie). there's even a point where sam brings up the hovering and infantilising gaslighting, and asks him to stop and dean lasts about three episodes (8.15 -> 8.18). this continues into gadreel's possession of sam during which he quite literally acknowledges sam's autonomy and backtracks into tricking sam into the possession because dean cannot live without sam. this is sam as an extension of dean.

also like. narratively Third characters very often view sam as an extension of dean as well: gordon, bobby, castiel, lisa, benny, gadreel, chuck, jack, etc. my favourite examples: gordon's usage of the name sammy and gordon as fodder for acknowledging sam's monstrosity as it disrupts the winchester hunting dichotomy of monstrosity, sam and ruby's relationship as a whole, the soul fisting scene in which cas takes consent about sam's body from dean, bobby treating sam's psychosis as something that's affecting dean's emotional state rather than an experience sam is having, and instances of sam speaking to chuck while chuck responds to dean, even speaking about sam in the third person in sam's presence.

fundamentally, i view supernatural as a show to be an ultimate, extended exploration of this original john-dean-sam dynamic, reflected and refracted throughout the plot and i think of this idea of sam being viewed as an extension of dean (and tbh. john because john handed sam over to dean) by dean, the narrative, sam himself, and from the audience, as being Intrinsic to the way the story works. so much of sam's conflict revolves around his loss of autonomy because sam's non-role in their original familial dynamic involves that fundamental loss of autonomy—mary, azazel, john, and dean have all held authority regarding sam's autonomy and it reflects itself in everything else.

there's another aspect to this—dean as patriarch, sam as an extension of dean, and dean's parentification—that cannot exist without dean's emulation of john + the ideal of dean's genre and genre emulating (or attempted emulation) heroism that reflects into the way dean treats sam or even the way the narrative itself represents dean's ideal of sam and dean's perspective of their relationship. anyway, the point is that sam gets to a point where he starts believing it too (case in point: his 13.20 monologue).

¹a role that is so defined by sam's inability to fit within it, a role defined by the fact that sam's character exists to examine the structure(s) it exist(s) within, that it stops being a role and becomes a non-role.

[arceus-insanity]

With the Series Ending

I decided to do this solely based on canon, except for F which are so bad that they transcend the rule. I also put this in the lens of do I enjoy watching them, or do they infuriate me. Most of the ones in G are there because I can't tell who they are from the picture, or are so minor I don't get why they were on the list to begin with

Hawks was the hardest to place because as I've mentioned before I love villain fanon Hawks, and hate Canon for all the missed potential and the guy being shit.

Before the last arc, Deku would have been in C, and I felt most criticisms of him were undeserved. I still feel a lot of them are dumb, however, he's canonically a hypocritical, suck-up to labels, abuse apologist, idiot, etc. As much as it feels like character assassination it's canon, same with Shoji. I also just don't care to read fanfiction of him, and feel he takes a lot of roles where other characters would make more sense. If I'm not already following someone I'm not going to read fanfiction with him in it

Most of E I hate as much if not more than F but the fandom either doesn't write about, or treat them like the pieces of crap they are, looking at Mineta of course.

Fun fact Edgeshot is in E for bringing Bakugo back, and causing me both meta and dramatic issues for me. What the fuck was the point of killing Bakugo to immediately bring him back. How the fuck did Edgeshot know he could do this? How the fuck did he know how to do this? Why the fuck is he doing this for some random teenager he has never interacted with before, in the middle of a war? And now why the fuck does this fucker get to live, no one gave a single fuck about Edgeshot but he gets to live!

Centipeder would have been in E if not for the fact I know what my ringtone for him would be, Red Flags by Tom Cardy

Uraraka owes her rank in B for her arc with Toga, otherwise, she would have been in D. For the plot forgoing her original motivations so they could turn her into a generic love interest. Toga tried talking crushes with her 'twice' everything else regarding that shit, which started before they ever met, is on her

I actually love Endeavor fanfics as most of them either a treat his abuse for what it is, or b I view them as an own on canon Endeavor and his incredible laziness and selfishness. But Twitter exists and they flock to him and his bullshit so to F with him.

Speaking of Fs, Bakugo is a whiney spoiled rotten brat with a silver spoon shoved into his mouth since birth. I hope he never breeds. Damn near every shit thing that has happened to him, was either brought on by himself, literally applied to everyone, he literally doesn't care, and even with the two exceptions I'd give this, the Sludge guy, and being chained up at the sports fest (he should have been disqualified), do not justify his shit

Congrats to Dark Shadow and Tokoyami for being the only hero (student) to make it past B

Needless to say I love villains, Dabi is by far my favourite, followed by Himiko, they are way more engaging and convincing than the heroes. And by convincing I mean it actually feels like they are going to put in effort to make their goals happen, not just wish really hard. I truly wish we could have seen how Shigaraki's goals shifted during his reign over the PLF. We had already seen how he wanted the League to be happy and an exception to his goal of destruction

[cottagecore-raccoon]

what are you hoping to see in the final 90? 🙏❤️

Ooooo okay so in addition to my little list I made back when I thought season three was about to get cancelled:

At least one tender kiss between Aziraphale and Crowley that Aziraphale initiates

They clearly need a tender kiss once they're on the same page that can be compared to their first. I'd love to see Aziraphale initiate this one, but I'll take anything

Nuanced Heaven/Hell

I really want to see Heaven and Hell continue to be depicted in a nuanced way of what happens in totalitarian regimes, rather than trying to make some Big Bad Enemy (which could be easy with, say, the Metatron). Everyone is clearly suffering under these power structures and acting in ways they think are necessary to survive (even if that is continuing abuse) We've seen that Gabriel, at his core, has kind tendencies and I would argue is protective over the other angels to an extent. These good qualities are clearly overshadowed by his cruelty in maintaining Heaven's power structures (and frankly by his willingness to just up and leave without making any real changes/helping others). I would like to see continuations of this theme with other angels and demons, especially since a huge theme of the show is how we are both products of our environment and neither good/evil but fundamentally complex

Aziraphale connecting with other angels

I'd love to see Aziraphale given the chance to actually get some of the minor angels on humanity's side during his time in Heaven! He's made this giant sacrifice to go back, which needs to mean something! On top of that, we see that the angels are treated horribly/encouraged not to question, and I want to see Aziraphale's soft skills and gentleness shown as the strength that they are as he plays the role for the angels that Crowley played for him

To that note: Aziraphale's time in Heaven must be necessary/crucial to the eventual overthrowing of Heaven's power structures

This is redundant to previous points I've made, but above all I need to see Aziraphale's decision to return to Heaven framed as a noble sacrifice/attempt to fix a broken system rather than evidence of his naivety I'm not saying it was the perfect decision: goodness knows these two can't communicate for anything. But, as others have said before, there is a reason why Beelzebub and Gabriel are able to leave everything behind and Crowley and Aziraphale can't. At the end of the day, Gabriel and Beelzebub only care about one another in any real way. They are selfish beings who never connected with humanity nor feel a responsibility to fix a broken system. They can just leave without any source of guilt Regardless of what Crowley may try to have us believe, he and Aziraphale both love the earth and humanity. They have a responsibility to protect it: something that he understood at the beginning of season one and I don't think every truly gave up on. Just that he would rather prioritize Aziraphale's safety over everyone else's (because aren't we all guilty of prioritizing those we love over a faceless group?) In addition to this love of the earth/humanity, Aziraphale also feels a responsibility to what Heaven should be. Despite how unkind he said it, Aziraphale is right that Heaven claims to have more of a responsibility to do good than Hell does. Aziraphale believes that Heaven should be a benevolent force helping humanity and other angels. (It reminds me of working for a nonprofit and realizing that you're not living up to the mission statement and are just being worked to the bone for some nebulous reason.) One way or another, Aziraphale believes that if there's any chance to change Heaven (the source of his abuse), than he has to try. And isn't that what we'd all like to believe about ourselves? That if given the chance to change an unjust system, that we would try? He and Crowley may disagree on how to accomplish that, but I believe Aziraphale's cause is a noble one It's because of this that I would absolutely hate to see this all chalked up as Aziraphale being easily manipulated. How could one silly angel think he was going to change a whole abusive power structure? That he should have just run off with Crowley and protected himself when he had the chance. I ask you: what sort of moral is that? In 2025, what sort of message is that sending?

Give Aziraphale and Crowley a chance to properly communicate in some capacity, rather than just an apology (especially if the show wants to peg the responsibility all on one)

Just let them have this, please. And perhaps a hug afterwards

Let Crowley have connections outside of Aziraphale

Crowley deserves real friends and a community outside of Aziraphale! Let him have people who care about him, because up until now we haven't gotten the chance to see him connect with the community even though we see hints from flashbacks that he has in the past. We know he loves humans, so let us see it! And please bring back Warlock specifically, since goodness knows Crowley and Aziraphale both loved that boy and I hate to see him thrown out and never mentioned again. They practically raised him!

[hedwigoprah]

Dragon Age 100 | Prompt List

Ya'll, I can't do anything casually. But I decided that anytime I don't write dedicated fiction that I would write for one of these prompts. I was just gonna do like, 100 words, so naturally I wrote 669 (lol 69)

Prompt 1 with minimal editing under the cut

Beginning

"Fine. You win" Veryl knocked her queen over on the board, signaling her acceptance of defeat and seeking a quick end to the match. The smug, cheating bastard across from her ignore the hand she extended in sportsmanship and stood, leaning across the table into her space. "I know what I want as my prize," he hissed into her ear. Veryl leaned back into her chair, eyeing the mans full face and admittedly good looks. Perhaps if it had been another time or another place… or even if it had been the other night when she felt worse about herself. Tonight was just, not his night. With no desire to toy with his posturing or even indulge in whatever foreplay he was trying to instigate, she rose from her chair, forcing him back across the table. "Maker, get some mint." She pushed past him when he tried to stand in front of her, lobbing the insult to put him off the idea of the state of undress she was sure he pictured her in. "Sore winners aren't my type." He caught her arm as she passed, pulling her into his chest, separating her from the rest of the pub. "I'm sure I can figure out what you like." "Oh?" Veryl returned the coy tone the man was so desperately seeking from her. When a fleeting look of surprise and then pleasure darken his features, she continued, "That doesn't seem like your area of expertise. Thanks, but no thanks." Somehow, the pleasure he derived from this interaction seemed heightened as he tightened the hand on her arm, "I wasn't asking." There was a clanking and loading sound that came from behind his back and he was suddenly pressed forward further into her, caught in surprise. "I think you'll find the lady more than capable of deciding what a question is and what it isn't." The gravely voice interrupted her captor's advance, making him turn his head to survey what was now accosting him. Veryl wasted no time in using the distraction to get a handle on the man in front of her, relishing the way it felt to literally grip his balls in her free hand. When his startled face swung back around to assess the sudden pressure that had all of the color draining from his complexion, she gave him a slow smirk. "It's been fun, enjoy the floor." With a quick increase in strength and a downward yank on the free swinging vulnerability, the man was down in seconds howling into the floorboards. He was cupping his abused extremities and rolling about as Veryl poured the rest of the vodka from her glass over her hand to sanitize and add insult to injury to her less that formidable opponent. Unfortunately, it didn't make the fleshy feeling of ballsack on her hand go away, but it was a start. "I figured you had it handle." With a sigh and shake of his head, the dwarf collapsed his crossbow as he assessed her, a smirk that quickly evolved into a grin overtaking his specific features. "Varric Tethras," He extended his free hand to her in greeting. Veryl raised an eyebrow, eyeing his hand skeptically before finally deciding to accept it and introduce herself in kind. In order to do so, she planted a boot solidly on the back of the man the writhed below her, collapsing him to the ground further. Her next step crushed his fingers where they splayed out on the wood. This set the human version of a howler spirit to bellowing again. Veryl cast him an annoyed look before realizing where she was standing and removing her foot, "Gracious, people are talking here." She toed the purplish looking hand out of the way as the man curled into himself and started weeping. Veryl shrugged, and turned back to the man in front of her, who merely looked amused by her antics. She met his out-stretched hand with a clap from her own. "Veryl Ingellvar, Mourn-" She caught herself on the casually automatic introduction as she dropped his hand and placed her hands on her hips. "Actually, it's just Veryl."

[cillianmurphysdimples]

A female Y/N / Cillian fanfic (Part Ninety)

Absolutely not based on anything real at all, all totally fictional, fanciful and all total bollocks.

Warnings for sexual references and language. Adult themes. Not suitable for under 18s.

We Got Issues

Part Ninety: Cillian and Y/N arrive at the hospital to visit Clíodhna after meeting with Garda Collins. Cillian's temper is flared, and it only flares further when the doorway is manned by journalists. He isn't careful with his tongue, and Y/N's patience takes a knock. But Clíodhna's tiny development brings a better feeling for both of them. [Angst/High Anxiety - vague references to child sexual abuse]

@cherrycilly @aesthetic0cherryblossom @meister95 @vivianleighwishesshewasme @watermeezer @strangeions @lavender-haze-01 @meadowshelby @borntodiemp3

Cillian pulls the car to a halt in the first parking space he finds at the hospital, dragging up the handbrake without pushing in the button. You hate the noise, but you say nothing. You turn to look at him as he sits still, staring towards the doors. “What?” You ask, watching him move his head awkwardly and begin to frown. “...don't say it…” you mumble, looking out towards the main entrance. Sure enough, there stands Martin Ellis and another man you're sure you've seen before. “Cillian…” you turn your face to him. “Please.”

“What? Don't beat the shite out of him for what he did to you at the weekend? Don't…tell him his fucking days are numbered? Don't tell him there's not a thing he can say to my family that they don't already know? I'm a scumbag and I told them, he can't hold that over me now.” Cillian says, gritting his teeth.

“He still has power and you know it. We wouldn't have been in there with Jim if he didn't.” You say as calmly as you can. “Head down, walk in, say nothing.” You insist. “Let's get to Clíodhna. She's what matters here.”

“Power?” Cillian glares at you. “Fucking power?”

“Yes. He knows information, and obviously has ways and means of getting to people. How do we know the people he can get to aren't the boys and Yvonne, or your brother and sisters, or your fucking parents?” You list, and watch his face firm up. “You go over there and knock him out, he'll retaliate. And you'll be back down the fucking station but with cuffs on.” You snap at him.

“My kids.” Cillian raises his eyebrows. “You understand that, right? My children are in the middle of this, Y/N.”

“One of them is mine, too.” You remind him. “And I want to go and hold her, and feed her, and keep her safe. And we can't do that if you start a brawl, or start shouting the odds and end up fucking arrested!” you reach for the door handle. “Have a bloody cigarette and wise yourself up, Cillian!” You realise you're perhaps being harsh, but you want him to know that taking this action won't help. If he starts a fight, then Martin has won. You open the door and step out, slamming it behind you. The air is warm, despite a few clouds, and you place your sunglasses on to avoid a constant squint. It takes a moment or two before Cillian gets out of the car. His face is like thunder. He immediately lights a cigarette and you move around the bonnet of the car to join him around at the driver's side door. Smoke funnels from his nose as he sighs heavily - he'll have to wait before holding Clíodhna now, at least twenty minutes, but you know he'll sit impatiently and wait.

“I wanna kill him.” His accent singsongs in a strong Cork brogue and you nod your head in understanding. “I'll take his fucking head off is he even mentions her name, like.”

“I know you want to, but you can't.” You shake your head and lay your left hand gently against his chest. “Love, calm down. Clíodhna doesn't need this, you don't need this. Don't bring your thudding heartbeat in there to her, okay? Smoke that disgusting thing, well grab coffee on the walk through, and once the time is up you can hold her until we need to leave.”

He surprises you with a gentle smirk, “Not the whole time.” He raises an eyebrow. “Sure my nipples are useless.”

You roll your eyes, smiling at his attempt to soothe his own anger. “Most of the time, then.” You turn, forcing yourself to show amusement. With the cigarette clamped between his fingers, he sighs and wraps his arms around the neck. You settle your hands onto his slim hips immediately. “I know this is horrible, Cill, but you've got to keep it together.”

“He approached you, Y/N!” Cillian drops his arms back down. His face is firmer again. “That's not fucking on, that's fucking intimidation. He tried to get near her.” He thrusts his hand towards the hospital. “Why do I have to fucking behave?”

“Because he's careful. He's doing just enough to hurt us, but not enough to…get caught.” You sigh. “If you rise to it, you'll be in trouble, not him. Jim said…”

“Jim also fucking said him getting money out of us is extortion. So he's not so fucking innocent here, or so fucking careful. Jesus, it's like you're not even getting the gravity of this, Y/N!” Cillian raises his voice. He tosses his half smoked cigarette down. “Like, do you not get it? He wanted to get near the baby, our baby, and there's no reason to not think he couldn't be thinking the same about Malachy and Aran. Or is it because they're not your kids that you're not getting that?”

You take a deep breath, “That isn't fair. Of course I get it. I love the boys.”

“So why are you not fucking outraged? Why are you not fixed to go over there and hit that cunt a slap across the face? Why is that not fucking in you, Y/N?” Cillian shakes his head, his face contorting angrily. “I mean, fucking hell.” He scrubs his hands across his face. “He tried to get into her!” His voice rises again and you're sure they can hear you - Martin and his cohorts at the door. He groans as he drops his hands down. “You know what fucking perverted people are like, Y/N - better than anyone.”

“Stop it.” You swallow hard.

“So be fucking angry! What if he'd got into her?” Cillian's eyes widened dramatically. “He's a sack of shit, what if he'd fucking touched her!”

“Stop it!” You shout back. “Stop it! Don't even fucking suggest. Angry or not, Cillian, that's a fucking dick move!” You heave breaths in and out of your nose, staring back at him angrily. You know this is too public, you know this'll get out, but your insides twist and vibrate at his words. “Prick!” You shove your hand against the front of his shoulder and begin walking away, towards the hospital doors.

“Y/N!” He calls to you, and you can hear the fall of his feet as he jogs behind you. You keep walking, storming towards the hospital doors, and you can already see that Martin is well aware that you're here. He's looking, watching you walk towards him, whilst the man standing beside him has a camera raised. “Oi, stop…” Cillian jogs to your right side and walks at your pace. “Too far, I know.” He says, looking ahead. He's keeping his voice quieter now. But you know the damage is done. “Y/N I'm sorry, I'm just…”

“Yeah, you're angry Cillian, I know. I am too. And I'm scared. And I'm thrust back into thoughts I haven't allowed myself for years. And I'm trying to support you and that's what you throw out? Why aren't I angrier? Why aren't I scared he'd ….hurt her? That's disgusting.” You say, teeth gritted.

“I'm sorry.” He insists, and he wraps his left arm around your back as you reach the doors.

“There they are now,” Martin says, grinning immediately. “Mammy and Daddy.” Cillian shoves his tongue hard into the inside of his cheek and you know it is taking all his will not to throw a verbal assault. “Are we not getting on there? Wee bit of a domestic, is it?” He chuckles, and he sounds like he smokes forty a day as his chest rattles. “Give the wee girl our love now, won't you, Cillian?” He says as you step through the door, and you know his eyes are on your backs. You bristle as he forces a thick Cork accent, “Come on Murphy, boy! Give us something.”

Cillian's fingers tighten around your side and it's uncomfortable and sore. You can feel the tension in his arm muscle as it vibrated across your back. You walk along the corridor, just knowing you need to make it around the corner to be out of Martin's line of sight. “Fucking piece of shit…” Cillian grumbles, his jaw tight and flexed.

“Just walk.” You tell him, looking ahead to the bend in the corridor. “Do not fucking react.” As soon as you round the corner, Cillian seems to collapse in on himself. He drops his arm from around you and pushes his back against the wall, bending at the waist with his palms against his knee. “Are you alright?” You frown, reaching out to the back of his head, worried he's about to fall to the floor. “Cillian?” You bend awkwardly at the knees, balancing on your toes, and peer up into his face. He's pale, angry, and your fear that he'll pass out only rises. “Jesus, Cillian…” you place your hands over his, still against his knees, “talk to me?”

He takes a deep breath and locks eyes with you. “I can't…” he sighs, almost breathless. “He's a fucking animal.”

You reach your left hand up to his cheek. “And thank God every day you're not.” You say. “You're scaring me, Cill.”

“I'm scaring my-fucking-self.” He purses his lips.

“Are you gonna faint?” You ask, frowning.

He smirks, breathes out heavily, and shakes his head. “No.” He says, half rolling his eyes. He slowly straightens, and you stand up as he does. “I'm sorry.” He says, still not sounding right. He pushes his back off the wall and opens out his arms, dragging you in against his chest. He wraps his arms around your back tightly. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm just… I'm so fucking scared.” he mumbles his words against the side of your face.

You tighten your arms around his back and squeeze him. “I know you are.” You feel the push of his ribcage against you as he takes a very deep breath before letting go of you. You reach down for his hand. “Come on, Clíodhna's waiting for her Daddy.” He squeezes your hand.

In Clíodhna's little room, she's sleeping silently in her cot. The nurses had provided a feed during your time at the station and you know she'll be hungry soon. Cillian stands at the side of her cot, staring down at her with his hand resting over her abdomen. He has his head tilted slightly as he drinks in the sight of her, a soft and loving smile over his full lips. His eyes flick all over her face and you watch him intently. She calms him, soothes him, and you don't know if it's healthy - him needing her - but you can't help but feel glad that something does calm him. You can't help but love that he loves her so much. You watch her little face tick through various uncontrolled expressions as she moves her tiny head, opening her mouth widely in an O shape, her little eyelids fluttering slightly. She makes a sound, a soft sniffle, and then - to both yours and Cillian's amazement - let's out a shrill, newborn cry.

Cillian immediately looks up at you and you wonder if your expression is the same - wonderment and love, and a sort of pain like you need to fix whatever ails her immediately. It's astonishing, the sound of her cry, and you wonder if she has cried like this in your absence.

“Fuck…” you look at Cillian, and your heart feels painful at the noise. It's beautiful to hear her voice, but it's painful to hear her cry. Paradoxical, maddening, and all encompassing. “...Jesus, Cillian, listen to her.”

He smiles a little before looking back at her and he carefully lifts her tiny wrapped body from the mattress, bringing her up onto his left shoulder. “Ah, leanbh…” he sighs, turning towards you. His body begins to rock a little, soothing his little girl. “...have you found your fecking voice?” He says and you see the glisten of tears in his blue eyes. His right hand cups under her bum, over the swaddle blanket, and his left palm covers almost all of her back as he sways her gently. “Ah now,” he coos softly, “Take it easy. Take it easy, leanbh. Hey? What're you giving out about, hey? What're you giving out about?” You want to take her from him - your body is screaming to comfort her, your brain charged with electricity at the high pitched sound of her cry. But watching him with her is a salve, a tonic, and the conflict is heady. “Are ya hungry? You want Mammy?” he says gently, still swaying his body, still rocking her gently. “Jays, them's some lungs, leanbh. Hey? Some set of lungs on you, girl.” he looks at you with a smile, his eyes still glossy. “Sit down, I'll hand her over. She's half starved.” He jokes.

You drop down into the first seat, your body still on alert at the sound of her cry, and only as you gaze down do you realise that you're leaking breast milk. “My God…” you brush your hand against the dampening patches on your t-shirt.

“Don't be wasting it..’ he says gently as he approaches, somehow teasing and still making you feel at ease. Your body does things you'd never expected it to do, and your mind is consumed by the sound of her cry, and somehow everything outside seems further and further away. You hold out your arms as he lowers her down and immediately shush and coo at her as you position her and yourself to feed. He takes the seat beside you, and when you look up from your daughter he is staring at you. “...you're doing amazing.” He says, quietly and husky. “I'm sorry for what I said.”

You flatten your lips into a thin line and nod your head slowly, consumed by the feelings of Clíodhna as she feeds, and then smile at him a little. “I know.”

He leans forwards, over the arm of the seat, and touches his hand to the top of Clíodhna's head. Her tiny smattering of dark hair disappears under his entire palm. “So are you.” He says, “And we're gonna fix all this.” He promises her.

You keep your eyes on his face, too close to yours, taking in every freckle and grey steak in his hair. God, you hope so.

.

[carolmunson]

a thousand times a day | rockstar!eddie

fall frenzy req by @saltystormyx: 'I'd like to request a mini-fic with your rockstar!eddie au character. I'll leave it totally open to whatever you want to write.'

fall frenzy set list

back in action with a couple we haven't hung out with in a while! it was nice to get to revisit these two in some way. i had a different story for them to start -- something dirty and slutty -- but i just couldn't get into it. i needed something cozy for them. perhaps now that the seal is broken we can venture into some more slutty stuff between these two at some point. welcome to an early thanksgiving with the munsons before they were married.

tw: 18+, mostly very fluffy, some references to drug abuse, some references to using/addiction/getting clean. otherwise, two hotties in love. reader isn't referred to as 'stella' in this fic but the last name 'rink' is used a couple times to refer to reader and her family.

November, 1992

"I just, ugh honey I feel so awful to cancel on them." You blow your nose into a tissue but also direclty into the phone, making Eddie pull the receiver away from his ear for a second. You called in hysterics from a shoot in New York that you have to do pick up shots in Georgia and the earliest flight back they can manage is on Thanksgiving; leaving your plans to go back upstate to celebrate with your family in the dust. The flights had been paid for, even Wayne was making the trip to Syracuse to celebrate with you and yours. It was finally going to feel normal now that Eddie was three months clean and things had settled down some. He wasn't touring and they were only in the early stages of writing a new album and even then, the band spent most of their nights in the home studio instead of going into the city. Every now and again he'd come upstairs to grab more Pellegrino's out of the fridge and give you kisses on the cheek while you went over potential scripts.

Depsite having moved back at the beginning of November and back to falling asleep tied up with each other, you hadn't put your ring back on yet. It sat resting on your jewelry stand in your dressing room, as shiny and perfect as ever. Your bare ring finger sat as a reminder to him that he's not there yet; that he still has so much to prove -- but he meant what he said. You were gonna be his wife one day.

"Baby, it's okay. They're gonna understand," he assures softly, "It's not like you're doing it on purpose; they know you can't just not go." "It's just s-so stupid. An-an-and it's the first -- fuck, Ed it's the first one without Dad and I just feel so bad for my mom having to look at two empty seats and I don't know, babe. Like, I just feel like I'm r-ruining everything," you choke on your words, fully blubbering into the phone, make up smearing down your cheeks onto the hotel pillows you're leaning against. "You're not ruining anything sweetheart," his voice soft but firm, "You want me to get on a flight to you? I'll go right now."

"N-no it's okay," you sniffle, "I'm meeting up with Simone and getting dinner and we're gonna red-eye back home so we can get ready for Atlanta."

"Oh, so I get to see you tomorrow morning?" he grins, feeling selfish almost at how much he loves hearing your time away from him is cut so short.

"Yeah," you sniffle again, his heart pangs, "Probably really early."

"I'll have breakfast ready for you, okay? What do you want?"

"Um," you shrug to no one, "I don't know. Waffles." "Okay," he smiles, "Waffles it is."

The call home was less sweet; your mom understood but you could hear the dull ache in her voice. The subtle sadness mom's have in their register that they try to mask with an airy laugh -- years of feigning their own disappointement from life barely lived. She knows you're busy and she understands, she tells you a million times. You hear it but you don't feel it; you know she'd rather you blow it all off to come home again and see your family.

You'd rather blow it all off to see your family. Eddie had only seen your childhood home once -- quaint in size, snickered when he saw that you grew up with two guest rooms. He knew you grew up with it made, but you never made it so clear. You had walked through the trailer park to visit his old stomping grounds like you knew was growing up poor was like. Maybe you were a good actress after all.

He had waffles ready when you got in at five in the morning, who knows when he woke up to start. The Belgian Waffle maker you got sent as a wrap gift two years ago was finally out of the plastic, box still on the kitchen floor. Batter dripped down the sides and next to it a serving plate of a small mountain of waffles.

The pink stains on his fingers give a hint to who sliced all the strawberries and other fruit. Separated and glistening in the crystal bowls you really only take out for special oocasions.

Three cans of whipped cream sat at the end of the counter, one already opened with a small peak puffing out. 'Ya gotta try the product first, it's the whipped cream tax'

He's so silly. You missed his silly.

You're not home for very long, a couple days before you start packing for Georgia and you spend it all in his arms. Meals together, sitting on his lap in the studio while he tries out new melodies, you even spent one night curled up in the living room to watch a pay per view fight of Harrington's. Their friendship was finally starting to heal up after Eddie's last relapse.

He pouts when you get ready to leave, shrugging your coat on after you put the cordless phone down to confirm your car. You pout back at him.

"Don't give me that face, you're making me feel worse," you frown.

"M'just gonna miss you," he says quietly, "It's lonely here when you're not around."

"I know," you nod up at him. You don't mean for the comment to sting, but it does a little. It's not like he didn't want to be there with you this past year.

He leans down to kiss you, both hands reaching up to cup your cheeks.

"Don't be sad," he mumbles, nuzzling his nose against yours, "We'll have a nice Thanksgiving together when you get back, just us." "What about Wayne?" you ask, heart panging at the though of his Uncle eating alone. "Don't worry about it, sweet thing," he lets his lips linger against yours again for just a moment, "Wayne'll be okay."

The flight had never been more turbulent. Atlanta had never felt more cold.

You hear the phone ring and ring for the second time only to get the tin-like sound of your mothers voice again, 'Thanks for calling the Rink's! We aren't able to come to the phone right now; but please leave your name and number and we'll call you back. If you're trying to reach Stella Rink, please contact her publicist at Starmade PR Corp.'

"Hi, it's me -- again," you say into the receiver, "I'm sure you guys are busy cooking or have the game on but um, I just wanted to say happy Thanksgiving guys...God, come on, I know you're there. Just pick up!"

Your voice wavers, "I'm sorry I couldn't make it I just --" "NOW BOARDING FIRST CLASS - FLIGHT 7995 TO LOS ANGELES."

You feel a slight pull on your arm from Simone, sighing while you hang up the pay phone to make it to check in.

"They hate me," you mumble. "They don't hate you, Rink," she assures, hand soothingly skating up and down your back, "They know what your life is like." The flight is long and you sleep during most of it, the sad pit in your chest spreading through heavy in your body. You couldn't wait to just be home and eat take out on the couch with your man; have him whisper sweet nothings of reassurance while you pout in the glow of the TV.

Rain pours in California, which is not common but of course happening on the day you feel so awful. You hope that they at least called the house; that Eddie had messages to relay to you; anything so that the guilt didn't eat you alive.

You make it home faster than usual; everyone home with their families leaves less people on the road. You tip the driver triple the fare after he helps bring your bags to the door -- holiday cheer already flowing in your veins.

To your surprise, Eddie opens the door as you go to unlock it, his smile evident on his face. He's dressed cozily, black on black Corroded Coffin sweat shirt and matching pants, socks scrunch down on his ankles -- tattoos covered outside from what peek out at the wrists.

"Happy Thanksgiving, baby," he grins. He takes your bags, putting them to the side in the lobby while you kick your shoes off at the door. He pulls you in to a tight hug to his chest and even through the laundry detergent you can smell the food from all the way out here. Aromatics, butter, garlic, rolls, turkey -- it smells like comfort, it smells like home.

"Did you cook?" you ask with hopeful surprise, "You made like, a whole thing?"

"I did the dinner rolls and I bought all the food; but I'm kind of shit at that home cooking stuff so I called in some reinforcements," his laugh is grizzly with smoked cigarette gruffness.

"Come on," he ushers you forward, taking your hand while you walk through the entry way and down the hall towards the kitchen. His hand is warm and worn, still slightly clammy while the nervous teenager in him still stumbles over dealing with you. Being with you. Loving you.

The kitchen is busy, people bustling and moving and at first you think he must've just hired a team but then a flash of your mom's red Thanksgiving apron catches your eye. Your neice's giggle rings through the echoey walls. Your sister Luna sits at the breakfast nook with your nephew to keep him out of the way, helping him with a coloring book from deep in your stash downstairs.

"Wait, what?" you ask outloud. Your mom looks up, a smile in her eyes when she sees you. "Happy Thanksgiving, honey!" she smiles big, both of your sisters getting up and following her while they flock to you, a group hug of Rinks in the entry way of the kitchen. You heart swells in your chest while you feel them surround you, smell the familiar fragrance of your mom's perfume; your sister's shampoo. It had been so long, too long.

"What're you guys doing here?" you ask, tears welling up in your eyes while the emotion takes you over. You try to sniffle back the tingle in your nose while a cry comes on. "Well, Ed called us when you left for Atlanta and asked if we wanted to all come here," your mom answers, "He got all our flights and everything."

You look over your mom's head to see Eddie leaning up against the fridge, wiping his own tear away off his cheek to see you so happy.

"You were so sad, angel," he shrugs, "I didn't want your holiday to feel so lonely. So y'know -- I got everyone here for you instead. Can't have my baby sad on Thanksgiving."

Your lower lip wobbles when you look at him, his soft gaze while your sister's go back to their previous tasks, "Let me help you bring your bags up."

When he says help he means he takes them all in one trip, you take note that all the guest rooms have been set up. Your family already unpacked and lived in like they've been here a day or two. By the looks of their suitcases they'll be here through the weekend. Your heart swells again. "Where's Wayne?" you ask quietly while you make it into your room. He pops your bags by the entry way of the dressing room to unpack for you later, coming up close to you to press a kiss to your cheek. "He's out back smoking the Turkey and listening to Alice's Restaurant on a loop," he chuckles, "He just drinks beer and hangs out -- definitely has a little crush on your mom though."

"Oh my god," you giggle back, "Well she's very pretty, I get it." "He's got a real soft spot for your neice and nephew," he nods, running a hand over the top of your head, "He's gonna be such a great grandpa."

"I bet he is," you bite your lip for a moment, thinking about a future where that's true. Where you have rockstar Eddie Munson's babies. You wish you could report all of this to the papers instead of whatever shit they put in the tabloid rags about him. HANDSOME ROCKSTAR FIANCE SAVES THANKSGIVING FOR AMERICA'S SWEETHEART!

People would read that, right? You'd read that.

"Was it a good surprise?" he asks, "It wasn't too much to spring on you I was nervous th--" "This is perfect," you nod, "It's so perfect, honey. You're perfect." "You're perfect," he counters, arms wrapping tight around you to give you a tight squeeze, "Why don't you get yourself together and I'll meet you downstairs. I gotta set things up in the dining room, things'll be ready to plate soon."

"Okay," you nod, pulling your airport best off over your head while you watch him disappear back into the house.

Dinner was one to remember. You hadn't felt the true familial magic of the holiday since you were a kid and suddenly it had flown back with a veangance.

In true Rink fashion, the after dinner digestif of Irish Coffee followed you all down to the inhome theater to watch Miracle on 34th street; the little ones and Eddie nursing hot cocoa with way too many marshmallows pouring over the tops of the mugs. "I don't have to have one," you assured him, squeezing him arm gently while you looked at the cup in front of you. "Don't worry about me," his voice calm and confident, knowing he was only going to make it half way through the movie before falling asleep anyway. Most of your family did except you and Wayne who was surprised to find out he was making his way to California instead of upstate New York.

"Couldn't find my good winter boots so it turned out for the best, I guess."

Your sleepy family finally roused, your older sister getting the kids set up in their own room downstairs before she made her way up to her room. Luna and your mom following suit upstairs, Wayne following soon after.

You and Eddie clean up the small theater and head to the kitchen to assess the damage of what needs to be done. Eddie gave house keeping the weekend off to spend with their families; so for the first time in a while dishes like this were all on the two of you.

Thank god for dishwashers and a good Bing Crosby Christmas record -- you're able to clean up the kitchen in no time; stealing kisses in between songs, getting lost in a dance or two.

When you get upstairs to your room you're both exhausted; but not so tired that your eye don't linger when he starts to undress. You know you don't have the energy for the night cap he'd like but it's nice to watch him; the dip of his waist, the way his shoulder blades move under his skin on his back. "Still hungry, Rink?" he winks; heat flames your cheeks.

"No, no, I'm just -- y'know," you shrug innocently, "You look good, baby."

"Thank you," he hums while he changes into a pair of boxers for bed. You make your way into your dressing room and slip into a little night gown for the hell of it, silk and lace so he has something nice to wake up to -- something to show how grateful you are for putting this together.

When you crawl into bed next to him in the still of the night, one arm wraps around you instinctively. Heaviness dips into your eyes at the touch, it's always so hard to sleep without him there. Your hand smooths over his chest when he feels it; the drag of metal across his skin. His hand comes up to take yours and his thumb reaches up to search for it; breath catching in his chest when he can confirm it.

You put your ring back on.

"Really?" he whispers into the dark, "Yeah?"

"Yeah Munson," you nod into the crook of his neck, "Gonna be your wife one day."

[sebstanaddict]

Rewrite The Stars

Sebastian Stan x Reader Story

Summary: Reader is a woman trapped in a loveless and abusive marriage, struggling to keep herself together for the sake of her daughter, when she meets Sebastian. Despite his Hollywood star status, he unexpectedly shows her the love and care she's been missing and her world begins to shift.

Reader thought she could forget Sebastian and move on with her life, but one day her husband crossed a boundary she never thought he would ever cross, crushing her physically and mentally that she ended up needing Sebastian even more..

A/N : This story deals with topics of domestic abuse and SA, as well as infidelity (of course I don't support infidelity in any way but in this story I have a very good reason to include it). So if you feel you can be triggered by these topics, it's best to not read it. The topics are heavy and aimed at 18+ readers so if you're under 18, I advise you not to read it.

Warning : depiction of physical abuse, SA and some non vulgar sexual references

Chapter : 5/15 (May add more)

Chapter List >

Word Count : 3k

---

Chapter 5

Y/n stood by the kitchen counter the next night, her heart felt heavy after what happened with Sebastian the night before. But no matter how painful it was, she knew it was the right thing to do. She could never continue the relationship. Having an affair was against her moral compass even if it was with someone like Sebastian. Even if it was because she was in a broken marriage. A vow was still a vow and she promised to herself to never break it again.

She was drying a dish when she heard the front door slam. Her heart leapt into her throat, knowing what that sound meant. He was home, and judging by the force of the door, it hadn't been a good business trip.

She wiped her hands on a towel and moved toward the hallway, her pulse quickening with every step. As her husband rounded the corner, his face was already twisted with anger. His suit was wrinkled, his tie undone, and his eyes red from drinking.

"Where's dinner?" he barked, his voice harsh and slurred.

"I'll heat it up for you," Y/n replied quickly, trying to keep her tone calm and soothing. She turned to the stove, praying that this would be one of those nights where his anger would pass without escalation.

But before she could even reach the stove, she felt his hand grab her arm, yanking her back. "What the hell is your problem, huh? You think you can just ignore me when I walk in the door?"

"I'm not.." she started, but the words were cut off by the sudden sharp sting across her cheek as his hand struck her.

She stumbled back, her hand instinctively flying to her face, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away, refusing to let him see them. She'd learned a long time ago that showing weakness only made it worse.

"I had a shit trip, and you can't even be a decent wife," he spat, his face inches from hers, the smell of alcohol on his breath making her stomach churn. He grabbed her wrist, squeezing hard, his eyes wild with frustration. "You're worthless."

Y/n closed her eyes, trying to block out his words, trying to remember that she was more than this. She had to be more than this. But as he released her wrist and shoved her toward the counter, her resolve crumbled.

For a moment, it seemed like he might leave her alone. He muttered under his breath, pacing the small kitchen as if he didn't know what to do with his rage. But then he stopped, his anger melting into something else, something more dangerous.

He turned back to her, his expression softening, and Y/n's stomach twisted in fear. "I'm sorry," he murmured, stepping closer, his hand cupping her cheek, the same cheek he had just struck. "I shouldn't have hit you. Let me make it up to you."

Y/n recoiled instinctively, shaking her head. "No... I can't."

His eyes darkened again. "Don't tell me 'no,' Y/n. I'm your husband."

Before she could protest further, he pushed her against the counter, his lips crashing down on hers in a rough, possessive kiss. She tried to push him away, tried to escape, but his grip tightened. Her heart pounded in her chest as she struggled against him, but he overpowered her, forcing her down.

It wasn't long before he took what he wanted, right there on the kitchen floor, ignoring her tears and her whispered pleas for him to stop. And when it was over, he rolled off her as if nothing had happened, falling into a drunken sleep almost immediately, leaving Y/n lying there in the dark, broken and hollow.

Hours passed before she could move, her body trembling as she sat up, clutching her ripped clothes to her chest. The kitchen was silent except for her husband's snores, but inside, her mind was screaming. She couldn't keep doing this. She couldn't keep pretending that everything was fine.

With shaky hands, she stood up and went to her bedroom, she reached for her phone on the nightstand. Her fingers hovered over the screen, her mind racing with all the reasons she shouldn't. She shouldn't drag Sebastian into this. He didn't deserve to be burdened with her mess.

But the need to talk to him, to see him, overpowered her logic. She typed out a simple message before she could stop herself:

"I need to see you."

The reply came almost instantly.

"When and where?"

Y/n stared at the screen, her heart hammering in her chest. She knew this was wrong. She knew what she was doing, what they were doing, was dangerous, but right now, she didn't care. She needed him. She needed someone who saw her, who cared for her, and didn't see her as a punching bag or a possession.

"Tomorrow. The usual place."

—

The next day Y/n sat at the secluded café on the outskirts of town, their usual place, her hands wrapped tightly around her coffee cup. She hadn't slept at all, her mind racing with what she was about to do.

When Sebastian walked in, her heart fluttered in her chest. He spotted her immediately and made his way over, concern etched across his face. He sat down across from her, his eyes searching hers. "What happened?" he asked, his voice soft but tense.

Y/n looked away, unable to meet his gaze as her fingers trembled around her cup. "He... he hit me again," she whispered. "And then..."

Sebastian's jaw clenched, his hand tightening into a fist on the table. "What did he do?" he asked, his voice low, but there was an edge to it that sent a shiver down her spine.

Y/n swallowed hard, her throat tight as the words tumbled out. "He forced himself on me. He didn't care that I said no."

Sebastian's eyes darkened with fury, his hand reaching across the table to cover hers. "Y/n, you don't deserve this. You don't have to put up with this."

Tears welled in her eyes as she shook her head. "I don't know what to do. I'm trapped, Sebastian. I'm stuck with him because of my daughter. Because of my family. I can't leave. They'd never forgive me."

Sebastian's grip on her hand tightened. "I'll help you. You don't have to do this alone."

"I can't," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I can't ask you to fix my life. It's too complicated. And I can't divorce him... My family would never forgive me. They think I'm the perfect wife, the perfect mother. They think he's also the perfect husband and father. They don't know what's really going on."

"They should. Have you ever told them or anyone about how he has been treating you?" He asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

"I.. I haven't.. just you. I don't want to burden my family or his. This should be something I deal with myself." She replied, sighing deeply.

"But that's not right! They should know so they can help. You should tell them." He pleaded.

"They won't believe me. In their eyes my husband is perfect. He has his way with words when he wants to. Even if I tell them they wouldn't believe me." She replied, her voice shook.

Sebastian's eyes softened, his anger fading into something gentler. "Y/n, I.. I care about you. But if you can't leave him... then I'm here, no matter what. I'll be with you through this. But you have to promise me to think about leaving him one day. I can't bear seeing you like this."

Y/n's heart ached at his words, torn between the love she felt for him and the guilt that gnawed at her for allowing this relationship to continue. She knew it was wrong. She knew she was betraying her vows, but she also knew she couldn't survive without Sebastian. He was the only light in her dark, suffocating world.

"I don't know what to do, I can't.. I can't promise anything" she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sebastian leaned closer, his eyes full of emotion. "Then don't think about it right now. Don't worry about tomorrow or next week. Just focus on today. On us."

She nodded, her chest tightening with the weight of her decision. She couldn't ask for a divorce, couldn't destroy her daughter's life or face the disappointment of her family. But she also couldn't let go of Sebastian. He was her sanity, her lifeline.

And even if it was wrong, she needed him more than she could ever admit.

"Okay," she whispered, her hand tightening around his. "We'll take it one day at a time."

"One day at a time.." Sebastian said, squeezing her hand back, giving her the warmth and comfort she needed.

Yes, maybe they could somehow make it work. She thought. And with that thought in mind she decided to allow him into her life again, no matter how wrong it was.

—

They continued to text everyday and see each other whenever they could, as if nothing had happened. Despite getting closer each week as they shared more about each other, they kept their relationship strictly as friends. Sebastian even asked her to start calling him Seb, like he asked his other close friends. But one night something shifted yet again at Cafe Solace where Sebastian decided to come and watch her sing that night.

The soft, intimate glow of the cafe's dim lights cast a golden hue across the room, wrapping everything in a sense of warmth and secrecy. The hum of quiet conversations filled the background, but the space between Y/n and Sebastian was charged with something entirely different, something unspoken yet undeniable. She stood on the small stage, the familiar microphone in her hand, the band playing softly behind her, but tonight, the song wasn't for the audience. It was for him.

She had chosen a song that bared her soul, "Say You Won't Let Go", a confession disguised in melody and verse. The words echoed the feelings she had been holding back for too long, the ones she had been too afraid to say out loud. Tonight, however, she could no longer keep them hidden.

As she began to sing, her eyes found Sebastian's in the crowd, and from that moment, she couldn't look away. Every word, every note she sang was for him. Her heart ached with the weight of everything she hadn't told him, everything she had been too scared to admit, even to herself. But in the safety of this song, she could let it all out.

"I met you in the dark, you lit me up You made me feel as though I was enough"

Her voice trembled slightly as the lyrics confessed what her heart had been screaming for months. She had told him the darkest parts of her life, the horrors of her husband's abuse, even the night he had forced himself on her. She had expected Sebastian to look at her differently afterward, to distance himself. But instead, he stayed, offering comfort, understanding, and something she had been too afraid to hope for - love.

And now, as she sang, she could feel his gaze never leaving hers, filled with the same longing that had consumed them both for so long. His eyes were soft, full of emotion, but there was also a quiet intensity, a shared understanding between them.

"I'm so in love with you And I hope you know Darling, your love is more than worth its weight in gold We've come so far, my dear Look how we've grown And I wanna stay with you until we're grey and old Just say you won't let go Just say you won't let go"

The final notes lingered in the air, her voice fading into the stillness of the room. But the connection between them only grew stronger. She could feel it pulling them closer, like a tether neither of them could break.

The applause that followed was distant, almost muffled, as if the world around them didn't exist. Her heart pounded as she stepped off the stage, her eyes still locked on his. And when he stood, crossing the room toward her, she knew what was coming.

"I'll walk you home," he said softly, his voice low, as if speaking any louder would break the fragile tension between them.

This time, she didn't hesitate. There was no fear, no doubt holding her back. Her husband was out of town again, and for once, she wasn't afraid of what would happen next. She nodded, unable to trust her voice, and together, they stepped out into the cool night air.

They walked in silence, the soft breeze brushing past them, the city alive around them, yet they were in their own world. She didn't have to say anything; neither did he. The decision had already been made.

When they reached her apartment, she stopped at the door, her hand trembling slightly as she fumbled with the key. She could feel Sebastian's presence behind her, steady and reassuring. And when the door finally opened, she turned to him, her heart racing.

"Do you want to come in?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes searched hers for a moment, and then he nodded. "If you want me to."

She stepped aside, letting him in, and the door closed quietly behind them. The apartment was quiet, her daughter staying with a neighbor for the night. There was no fear of interruption, no reason to hold back.

They stood there in the dimly lit living room, the weight of what was about to happen hanging between them. Y/n felt her breath catch as Sebastian stepped closer, his hands reaching up to gently brush a strand of hair from her face. His touch was soft, almost reverent, as if he was afraid she might break.

But she wasn't fragile anymore. Not with him. Not tonight.

"Y/n..." His voice was hoarse, filled with so much emotion it nearly broke her heart. "Are you sure about this?"

She didn't answer with words. Instead, she stepped forward, closing the distance between them, her hands trembling as they reached for him. And then, in one shared breath, they came together.

The kiss was gentle at first, hesitant, as if both of them were still afraid of what they were doing. But the moment their lips touched, something inside her broke free. The kiss deepened, and suddenly, all the tension, all the longing they had been holding back, spilled out.

It felt wrong and right all at once - a chaotic mix of guilt and desire that threatened to overwhelm her. But being in his arms felt like home. It felt like everything she had been missing for so long, everything she had been too afraid to want.

His hands were warm against her skin as he pulled her closer, his touch sending a shiver down her spine. She could feel the heat of his body pressed against hers, the way his heart raced just as fast as her own. But in the back of her mind, there was a nagging voice, a reminder of the life she still had, the vows she had made, even if they had been broken long ago.

"Seb..." she breathed against his lips, trying to pull away, but her body betrayed her. She didn't want to stop. Not now. Not when she finally felt alive again.

He paused, his forehead resting against hers as they both struggled to catch their breath. "We don't have to," he whispered, his voice thick with restraint. "We don't have to do this if you're not ready."

But she was ready. She had never been more ready for anything in her life. And yet, the guilt twisted inside her, making her hesitate. Her mind was at war with her heart, and she didn't know how to make them agree.

"I want this," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I want you. But..."

She couldn't finish the sentence. The words caught in her throat, too heavy to speak. But Sebastian understood. He always did.

He kissed her again, slower this time, softer, as if trying to tell her without words that he understood her struggle. And when he pulled away, his eyes were filled with the same longing, the same desire she felt. But there was something else too, something gentler, more patient.

"I love you," he whispered, the words slipping out like a confession he had been holding onto for far too long.

Her heart skipped a beat at the sound of it, and for a moment, she wanted to say it back. She wanted to tell him that she loved him too, that he was the only thing keeping her sane, the only person who made her feel like she could breathe again.

But the words wouldn't come.

Not until she looked into his eyes and saw the raw vulnerability, the hope lingering there. Her heart swelled, and the dam that had been holding back everything inside her broke.

"I love you too," she whispered, her voice barely audible, but it was enough.

The look in Sebastian's eyes changed in an instant, a flicker of relief, of overwhelming emotion, flashing through them before he pulled her into another kiss. This time, there was no hesitation, no fear. Only love.

They stumbled back, their lips never parting, as they moved toward her bedroom, where the door closed softly behind them. The night stretched before them, and as they finally came together, it felt like the culmination of everything they had both been too scared to admit for far too long.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Y/n knew this was a line she shouldn't cross. She was married, no matter how broken that marriage was. But with Sebastian, she felt something she hadn't felt in a long time, hope, desire, and the faint glimmer of happiness.

As their clothes fell away, and they gave in to the passion that had been building between them for months, Y/n knew that everything would be different after tonight. What they were doing was wrong, but for the first time in a long time, it felt like something was right.

For the first time in years, Y/n felt free. And in Sebastian's arms, she knew she had found home.

Chapter 6 >