#the way I had so many options for the unhealthy relationship one

[adankrivervalleynearyou]

glee textposts 4

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Azure Haze.

Pairing: Yandere!Dottore x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 0.9k.

TW: Unhealthy Relationships, Controlling Behavior, Manipulation, and Psychological Abuse.

[Commissioned piece. Donate to Palestinians in Gaza here.]

You’d never taken Dottore for the marrying type.

Not to imply that he was more of a rouge romantic, either, or dedicated enough to the Tsaritsa and her grand machinations to be married to his work, although he did clearly have a passion for experimentation. As a foot soldier, little more than a glorified errand-runner for the higher-ranking officers, you used to think of him (and the other Harbingers, by association) as almost god-like – gifted by your archon with eternal life and distorted by the weight of his many centuries, made too divine to ever feel tethered to something so intrinsically human. When you’d worked more closely to his side, you’d seen him as more demonic than anything; emotive but malicious by nature, uninterested in those beyond the part they played in the progression of his studies.

You wondered, sometimes, if his treatment of you was all a part of some elaborate, prolonged experiment. You wouldn’t put it beyond him, even if it did seem a little less gory than his usual whims. The heartlessness of it fit, though.

If Dottore could be relied on to be anything, it was cruel.

The ring, itself, is surprisingly unoffensive. You turn it over once, then twice in your hand, running the pad of your index finger over the sleek, silver metal. A pinpoint of sapphire glints up at you from where it’s nestled into the unornamental base, and a part of you is thankful that it’s not something more ostentatious, that he hadn’t committed to his musings on palm-sized diamonds and gold so pure and so polished, the archons would be able to see it from their thrones in Celestia. Another, disparate faction can only be devastated that it would take so little for him to claim you so completely.

“Is it not to your taste, love?” Dottore, your soon-to-be betrothed, asks. He’s positioned himself strategically, in spite of the limited space; on the other side of the exhibition table, allowing you just enough distance to breathe, but remaining between you and the door to the jewelry shop’s only private consultation room, ensuring you wouldn’t be able to run, not without passing him. The jeweler is mysteriously absent, but you can’t be surprised. Dottore has never been especially possessive, but he seems to prefer it when your attention remains undivided. “There are several more options, if you find my preferences lacking.”

Your eyes fall to the neat line of ring boxes on display in front you. Some are more gaudy than others, but they’re all silver, all studded with the same vibrant sapphires. Your gaze catches on one with curved, pointed teeth locking a roughly cut gem into place, then fall back to your lap. “Are you going to pick one out?”

His response comes in the form of a quick shake of his head, a coy smile. “Jewelry tends to get in the way of lab work. I’ll have to find another way to show my affection – a breastpin, perhaps, or a scale replica of your heart mounted on the wall of my office.”

You try to summon the revulsion you once had for his grisly humor, but fail to feel anything at all. At least he only claimed to want a replica, this time. “I won’t have to wear mine, then, will I?”

“You will.” His tone leaves no room for debate, but he continues regardless. “Unless you want me to remove your ring fingers and ensure it remains on a part of you myself, that is.”

You swallow dryly. “Both ring fingers?”

“One can never be too thorough.”

You purse your lips. Your fingers twitch once, then twice before dropping the ring in your hand and taking up another from its bed of velvet. The base on your newest selection is unique – crafted in disparate, thorned bands to make it seem as if it’d been made from braided vines, a pair of softly curling leaves encircling the jewel bed. It’s the gem that holds you, though; a shade lighter than the others when it catches the light, closer to a ruddy aquamarine than pure, never-ending blue. You slide it in front of Dottore before you can think better of it. “This one.”

To his credit, his smile doesn’t waver. “Are you sure? The gem is—”

“I’m sure,” you cut him off, almost breathlessly. “I… I like the color. I think it’s charming.”

He takes another moment to evaluate the ring, and then, to evaluate you – fighting not to shake in your seat. Finally, with an airy sigh, he shakes his head, his grin taking on a softened note. “Of course, love. Whatever makes you happiest.”

Measurements are jotted, the ring taken in for resizing with promises of swift craftsmanship. Days later, one of Dottore’s foot soldiers (and your former colleague) delivers a small, gold-foil wrapped box to you – a note from your dearly betrothed attached. You throw away the note without reading it and tear the box open. On a bed of cerulean velvet sat a silver ring of braided thorns, adorned with a single—

You let out a shallow, shuddering breath, tears already welling in the corners of your eyes.

A silver ring, adorned with a single, glimmering stud of the purest, darkest sapphire you’d ever seen.

[howdoesagrapewrites]

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐰𝐬: 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐟𝐲𝐫𝐞 𝐈𝐈

Taglist: @your-favorite-god

Plot: You, the legitimized bastard of Daemon Targaryen grew up with a very devoted extended family. But after the dance of dragons begins, you know exactly on what side you belong

Cw: incest/targcest, yandere/lovesick behavior, unhealthy relationships, platonic and romantic yanderes, not everyone is romantically involved with reader, yandere! EVERYONE x reader

>Being on top of Vhagar mid-air is probably the most frightened you have been in your life

>As you have been taught, there is only one rider for each dragon, and only one dragon for each rider, there has been no exceptions ever known, and you understand that the kindness of a dragon has limits, Vhagar will not let you ride on her as if you owned her, if you abuse, you will eventually fall

>The most logical conclusion is that Dagahrion is in Dragonstone, dragons always come back to their homes, but that's a good day of travel (time you don't have), and you could be wrong. Even if you got to Dragonstone safe and sound, to bring such a threat to the island, would be a move short of clever

> [Author's note: I have been stuck here for months and I find torturously tedious to write this part, so for the sake of advanving with the fic, I'll just explain that Y/N dismounts Vhagar after almost falling, and ends up finding Dagahrion on a cave]

>Fortunately, Dagahrion was still wearing his saddle and reins, so you climbed up on him like you had hundreds of times, caressing the rough scales and holding to him. You missed him so dearly, you missed your family, Dagahrion, and the people currently on Dragonstone. The blacks* were your family. No one else was

>It was nightime, an as Aemond's wife, everyone was likely looking for you, and Dagahrion's size will attract attention, you were clear of all the dangers, but did not have many options

>Dragonstone was almost a day away, but you decided to go immediately, taking advantage of the fact that Vhagar would take some time to get to the castle, after she almost threw you off of her

>In the air, you felt free again. Not like with Vhagar, where you flew on borrowed time, you were now with the dragon that hatched on your cradle, the one the gods intended for you

>You honestly feel like you fell asleep and woke up on Dragonstone, you are aware your thoughts were torturing you the whole trip, but the things you thought were only memories that weaked your resolve, sentimentalities and compassions that would not be given to you by the same people

>The handlers were surprised to see Dagahrion arriving, especially nearing the hour of the bat

>Your clothes are hardly enough to keep you warm when it was so late, you were so high in the air, and it was so cold

>Once you arrive, Daemon and Rhaenyra are woken up by the servants, Rhaenyra orders for a hot bath to be drawn for you, to prevent the cold for spreading in your body, despite Daemon's urgency to speak to you

>The bath is pleasant but endless, you would rather be going to Rhaenyra and telling her everything, lay your head on her lap, feel cared for. But you feel cared for now, with the hot water surrounding you, knowing she was caring for you by making sure your body was safe, and you actually needed this, you were exhausted and shivering.

>You were wrapped up in towels, padded and soft, the maids dressed you up for bed like when you were a child, and you are so tired you allowed them to

>You want to see Rhaenyra, and lash out at a poor girl when she says it's better you rest, you know you shouldn't, and that she is not Olivya or Celesse, that they are genuinely looking out for you, and this is nothing like how the greens kept you locked in a room and prevented you from seeing anything the didn’t want you to see. So you quickly apologize, not used to letting out anger this way

>You are aware you should rest, but still ask for Rhaenyra, and this time she comes to you. She's quiet and gentle, and doesn't ask anything, just watches you eat for some time before you speak.

>"Aegon had usurped the throne." You say with trepidation, knowing it was shocking news, but you find no point in dancing around the subject.

>Rhaenyra delicately grabs a napkin from your tray and cleans a stray, lonely tear, but she appears overall so calm

>"I have been informed, child. I have been crowned too."

>"And you lost Visenya" you wanted to say, but the corners of her eyes were red, and it is likely she would not want to speak about that

>"I'm sorr-" you begin before being cut off

>"I will not allow you to be, you were held hostage, ans you will stay by my side when we settle this and I am crowned in King's Landing."

>"I will." You promise, your voice fickle, but the promise behind it strong

>"Kings-" you cut yourself off this time, remembering who you are speaking to. "Queens can annul marriages, can they not?"

>Rhaenyra's lips purse in preoccupation. "Yes, they- yes I can" she resolves, reaching for your hand, which still holds some cutlery

>"Can you do mine?" You looked straight into her eyes

>She holds your hand tighter. "To whom?"

>"One-Eye." You reply with disdain

>"Did-" Rhaenyra pauses, looking for the right words, but you interrupt her

>"Is unconsummated."

>"Then I will do it first thing in the morning."

>You give a nod of appreciation, then let the comfortable silence fall in the room for a minute before your stepmother speaks again

>"You brought Blackfyre to us."

>You nod, with pride this time

>"We should keep it, is important." Rhaenyra suggested "After the words I could give it to Jacaerys, he is the prince of Dragonstone now, or give-"

>You squeeze her hand a little tighter, wanting her to stop speaking but not wanting to be so rude as to interrupt her again. She does as you wish

>"If your grace allows it... I want Blackfyre."

>Her violet eyes widen slightly, then she realizes what she was saying, and feels a pang of shame, she is being actively usurped because she is a woman, and she was now not even thinking of the girl who brought the sword to be the one to wield it

>"Do you know how to use it?" Rhaenyra still needed to ask

>"Some basic moves, but I can learn." You said, a little bashful to have made such a request when you are not too dexterous with the weapon

>"Then is yours, Y/N"

>The conversation continued, you tried to tell her as much as you knew, which was not too much, and she listened and even asked for your advice in some things, perhaps she did it just to make you feel heard, but you accepted it and thanked for it

>Your eyelids were growing too heavy for your own good, and your step-mother left you alone

>You slept with relative ease, your feelings being no true match for your physical exhaustion

>The next days, you familiarized yourself with the atmosphere, it was similar to the keep, rushed and tense, but it seemed less dangerous, it didn't keep you on your toes like the capital did

>You trained with the sword, most days you were alone with the master of arms, but other days, Jacaerys joined you. He was a great swordsman, and you knew tou shouldn't compare to him, but you did, you felt inadequate, you felt like you used the threat of war as a distraction to avoid feeling upset, sad and conflicted for what your own family did to you

>Rhaenyra summoned you, she was seating in the council's table, but she was alone with Jace

>she acknowledged your presence, then spoke, apparently continuing a previous thread of conversations

>"It will be short, it is merely diplomatic. But Starks keep their oaths, you will ideally not be met with overbearing resistance, you have to know how to bargain properly."

>Jace nodded, you didn't ask about the context

>"Y/N, you surely heard. Prince Jacaerys will travel to the North, remind the northmen of the oaths they swore. You will be by his side."

>You did not see it, too preoccupied with the task at hand, but Jacaerys' eyes lit up, and it was hard to contain his smile, Rhaenyra glared at him, to not be so obvious

>You parted the next day, as one of the queen's maids braided your hair, you looked at your reflection in the mirror, and felt the determination of loyalty, albeit mixed with a knot in your stomach, the anticipation of uncertainty

>Your father was nowhere to be seen, apparently patrolling the skies

>You said goodbye to Baela, Rhaena and your step-brothers

>Lucerys was nervous, yet excited to be sent on his first mission alone, you gave him a hug and kissed his forehead

>Rhaenyra hugged you before you parted, and a whisper slipped through your lips.

>"Goodbye, mother."

[erinkeifer]

The Informant

[Anakin Skywalker x Padawan!Fem Reader]

Masterlist | Wattpad | AO3

Summary: So, Anakin found out that you informed on him and Padmé at the Temple, leading to the end of his romance? Oh, your mistake. Just wait until he barges into your quarters to settle the score fairly.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI | brutal smut | hate sex | angst | mirror sex | slapping | reader's serious injury during sex (head smashed against the mirror) | blood | PiV unprotected | hair pulling | cursing | degradation | dom!Anakin | sub!Reader | reader is toxic af | no comfort | no aftercare Author note: Yes, I haven't written many warnings before, but I consider this story to be one of my favorites that I've written. I've edited it many times - today I'm sharing it in a completely different form than it was meant to be, and it was supposed to be much darker. However, I don't want any content drama- I'm coming back after a long break and I want peace, so I assure you that every brutal move described in this story is motivated by immense sexual frustration on BOTH sides.

Word Count: 3,5k

Anakin stood behind the corner when you were selling him. He was there, gazing at your face, which seemed to be proud of itself and could barely restrain its foolish grin because you thought you were executing a perfect plan. "General… Unfortunately, they were there again, together… I want the best for Master Skywalker, and I can't help but be concerned that perhaps he puts… THOSE feelings above the gravity of the mission..." you spoke to Kenobi with that artificially emphasized solemnity from beneath which protruded the most insidious idea. Anakin clenched his fists, struggling to listen to your report deliberately designed to undermine him. He didn't know you had seen him with Padme. You didn't know he had seen you when you were informing. For a while, you were entangled in blissful ignorance, but soon everything was about to end in the worst possible way. ................................................................................................................. Weeks had passed since that incident, weeks during which Anakin ceased to be himself towards you - yet he had no intention of telling you why. In the first days, your training sessions became more intense - when you fell, he wouldn't lend you a hand, and when you took a hit too hard, he had no intention of apologizing, and your days didn't end with a smile he used to give you. You were sure that maybe he had worse days, perhaps the Council was giving him a hard time… There was also another option that you considered, and although you couldn't say it out loud - you counted on it the most. Troubles with Padmé.

Your unhealthy desire to take the place of that woman overshadowed your common sense, and you convinced yourself of it day by day, implementing increasingly risky and far-reaching ideas into your life. Your latest one was soon to show its effects- it was about to explode when early this morning, you learned that the senator you despised had left the Order's gates. The relationship between Anakin and Padmé had come to an end, and you were glowing.

On that day, you didn't encounter Anakin in the Temple. Your usual training took place with Kenobi instead, and although the older Jedi tried not to convey any negative emotions that day, you felt a crisis atmosphere in the air. You didn't know the details and were unsure of what exactly was happening. In the morning, you questioned your friendly, usually well-informed guards if they knew where your Master might be, but each person you asked seemed to have the same rehearsed version they were allowed to share. Were the details crucial to you? Probably not, as the only thing that mattered to you was to sense the right moment to implement your next plan. A plan titled: a caring, concerned Padawan who gets what she wants.

As you returned to your quarters in the evening, the corridors seemed darker than usual. With no significant missions left for the day, you had lingered a bit too long in the cantina, and it would be a lie to say that during your time there, you hadn't thought about Anakin. Where he was, what he was doing, what he was feeling… But what did his feelings truly mean to you, when your hands reached for the knife that, though invisible, stabbed Anakin straight in the heart? You didn't know yourself, but ironically, you were certain that the pain that would accompany your achievement would be swept under the rug. At this hour, you passed no one in the corridors- the atmosphere was so chilly that you instinctively quickened your pace to reach your quarters as soon as possible, to freshen up and forget all the tension. The doors, which you always had to unlock first, turned out to be unlocked- you probably forgot to do so the last time you left your place, and knowing your absent-mindedness well, you didn't dwell on it too much, simply closing them behind you and shedding your outerwear without hesitation as you made your way to the bathroom.

Though you felt like you were shining, you weren't shining at all. When you looked at your reflection in the mirror, you focused on the dark circles under your tired eyes, and your hair was a mess. So, you reached for the comb and painstakingly untangled each strand of your hair, helping yourself with your fingers. Finally feeling that your hair was suitable for a neat ponytail, you grabbed the nearest hair tie within your reach and tied your hair back enough so it wouldn't bother you while washing your face. The first splash of water was a relief for your face, but before the water reached the temperature you expected, the clogged sink managed to fill halfway with water. However, this didn't stop you from finally being able to apply your favorite cleansing gel to your face and wash away the dirt from the whole day. Sudden pain. Sudden pain stole your senses as you bent down under the running water. Instinctively, you grabbed onto the porcelain countertop when you choked on the water - not from a single drop, not from a stream accidentally spraying into your nostrils. Your face submerged in the water standing in the sink, and there was a hand on your neck that didn't belong to you.

For a moment, you felt like you were in nightmares, which, although rare, when they did occur, manifested in their most intense form. You thought someone or something was using the Force on you, but the touch squeezing your throat was real. Desperately, you gasped for air as the mysterious hand impulsively pulled your face out of the water, and when your lashes were finally free of water, the answer to all your questions was found in the mirror. "M-master…?" you mumbled with a muffled voice, feeling water rushing into your sinuses. Anakin stood behind you, his face practically devoid of any emotion, which probably scared you the most in this picture. His eyes, with dilated pupils that seemed darker than ever, stared at your reflection in the mirror lifelessly and without a hint of empathy. "What do you want to happen next?" he asked in a cold, hoarse voice. "Master, I think I don't underst…" "I'm asking clearly. What do you want to happen next?" he interrupted, sensing that you were playing dumb by responding this way to his words. "I… I… Really…" you started to stammer, lowering your gaze from his reflection in the mirror, but he was quicker to interrupt you again. You felt the strong grip of his second, mechanical hand on your shoulder as he turned you towards him, so that you leaned back against the sink, and your face, though much lower due to your difference in height, was inches away from his face.

"You know what happened. No one had to tell you. You know she's gone, and you know who's behind it." he continued, his hand that was previously on your throat now gripping your chin. "Master, I really don't…" you began, wincing in pain as his hand tightened almost to the point of bruising on your chin. "You damn well know who… And I damn well know who… All I want is to hear it from you." he added through gritted teeth, and at that moment, you felt a hatred unlike any you had ever felt before - not even when facing the worst, hostile scum on missions.

"I… I…"

"Exactly. You. You. And if something had tempted me earlier… I would have been done with you long ago, but I decided to wait, maybe nothing would happen, and I'd ruin your life…" Skywalker continued with deadly seriousness, and you realized how utterly hopeless your situation was.

"Anakin… I didn't want to! I didn't want it to happen this way! I…" you could have continued shouting, if Anakin's finger hadn't found its way in a silencing gesture over your lips.

"This way… Funny. Funny, because you did. You wanted it to happen, but according to your delusional script." Anakin spoke, and you preferred to stay silent. You listened and wished the ground would swallow you whole, most of all, terrified by the realization that everything he said was true.

"And you know, delusional scripts of filthy bitches like you rarely come true, don't they?" he continued, holding onto his terrifyingly serious tone.

Overwhelmed by shock, all you could manage was a numb nod of disapproval - you couldn't squeeze out a single word, and Anakin didn't even expect you to. "Let's consider, though… How it would look in your little, stupid head…" he added after a moment, lowering his hand from your chin, leaving your delicate skin reddened from the strong grip. "Assuming I didn't see or hear what you did in the council, and I lived in blissful ignorance… You'd now play the hero and pretend in front of me that you have shreds of humanity left in you and want what's best for me, wouldn't you?"

"But… I didn't say that I…"

"And you didn't have to. Just thinking it was enough, wasn't it?" Anakin folded his arms across his chest as he spoke these words, and you would be inclined to admit that beneath his controlled demeanor, he seemed on the verge of exploding at any moment. You wanted to run away, but you couldn't. You wanted to defend yourself, but you had nothing to defend yourself with. You wanted to speak, but you had no words. "It's nice to ponder like this… 'What if'… But we're here and now, and you still haven't answered my first question..." Anakin continued, and upon hearing the mention of the question, you raised your gaze to look at him. "What do you want to happen next?"

Skywalker left you in complete emptiness, posing the question once again. You felt so depleted that you had no idea what to expect - from him, from yourself, from everything. Your heart rate quickened with each moment of silence, and this time, Anakin seemed genuinely eager for your response. "Oh, don't bother. Especially since I know very well what you want to happen next." Barely had you processed your Master's words in your mind when two strong hands grabbed you at hip level and turned your figure back towards the mirror. You leaned against the porcelain sink with your front while he stood behind you, just inches from your back, his gaze fixed on your figure in the mirror wild and filled with hatred. "Do you know you've hurt me?" he asked after another moment of silence, placing his both large hands on either side of you, enclosing you. "And you know it's going to hurt?" he added shortly after, not giving you time to respond, assuming you knew well what you had done.

"I know." you answered with a trembling voice, not really aware of which of the two questions you subconsciously answered to him. "Good." he replied with a terrifyingly calm voice, then you heard the clinking of the belt from behind, sending shivers down your spine. "Bend over." he growled, and you did as he commanded, trying to sneak glances at him in the mirror opposite. "Give me that." he added after a moment, pointing towards the bandage scissors lying closer within your reach, and you obediently handed them to him. Anakin snatched the scissors from your trembling hand and without further hesitation, swiftly cut your thin jumpsuit at the waistline with one quick motion, without considering whether it would injure your skin. You hissed sharply as you felt the blunt blade irritating your skin, and just a few seconds later, a shallow, bleeding cut on your skin could be seen from the hole.

He had no interest in bothering with the zipper on your jumpsuit when he had a sharp tool at his disposal. The material split precisely at the cut, allowing him to tear it further and rip it around the circumference, so Skywalker didn't wait any longer. He yanked on the exposed fabric, and when he could afford it, he began to pull down the lower part of your torn jumpsuit. "You fuckin' slut…" he muttered when he saw that the part of the material he was pulling down revealed your bare ass without any underwear. You had your head bowed down, but upon hearing his words and being aware of what was happening, you smiled to yourself at the corner of your mouth. Your overly confident, slutty smile quickly vanished from your face as you opened your mouth in shock when Anakin entered you without warning - so quickly and desperately that part of the carelessly pulled-down fabric of your jumpsuit irritated his balls as he tried to bottom out. "Fuck…" he muttered through clenched teeth as you let out a long, dull moan. From his throat emanated a range of sounds that you had never heard before - even before he fully filled you, his breath was heavy and distinctly audible, but it was only now that you could hear the frustration pouring out of his vocal cords. His gaze in the mirror, aiming straight into your eyes, was both humiliating and arousing. You wanted it, and you couldn't hide it. If anyone was to destroy you after the failure of your plans, it was him - Anakin Skywalker. The man who was currently destroying you in the way you had dreamed of. "Anakin!" you yelled, your voice growing increasingly breathless by the second as he began to rhythmically pound into you. "What do you want? Should I go harder??" he grunted, gripping your hips tightly, occasionally tugging down on the shreds of your jumpsuit material that bunched up from his movements in frustration. He initiated it sloppily and desperately - without any preparation, standing behind you in his black robes, his cock protruding from the unbuttoned fly, teasing you with every dangling stride. Hopelessly, you nodded in agreement to his words, slowly allowing yourself to be completely consumed by the sensation he was giving you, but your lack of a clear response only fueled his frustration further. "Stop nodding and speak. I want to hear it." he demanded in a louder tone, his teeth almost constantly clenched. "I want… I want it harder…" you mumbled, unaware that you had just revealed to Anakin what he feared most - pleasure from what he was doing to you. He didn't want pleasure - he wanted a lesson that you would remember for the rest of your life - a lesson that would engrave into your mind that those who live by the sword, die by the sword. "You want it harder, you'll fucking get it harder." he whispered gruffly into your ear just before he began to thrust into you with all his length. With each forceful thrust, his partially exposed lower abdomen collided with the tattered fabric of your jumpsuit top, and with each deep penetration and withdrawal, you screamed in ecstasy. He wanted to see how he filled you inch by inch, so at one point, he hiked up part of his robe and looked down, proud of depriving you of your sanity.

"You fucking wanted this, huh? You fucking wanted this!" he grunted, instinctively quickening his movements, causing your body to arch to the point where the torn seams of your jumpsuit began to give way. When your eyes met again in the mirror, Skywalker couldn't resist and grabbed your tied-up hair with one of his hands that wasn't occupied with your hips. As you felt the intense tug, something inside you snapped – you didn't want to fight Anakin, but instinctively, you raised one of your hands, previously resting on the sink, and without knowing where you were aiming, you struck him in the neck.

"Whoa… woah… What? Don't like that anymore? What were you trying to do? Go on!" he paused his movements for a moment, holding onto the spot where you hit him for a few seconds before slowly continuing, leaving you completely disoriented and unsure how to explain. "Come on, slap me! Slap me!" he continued in a terrifyingly excited tone, and the slower he made his movements, waiting for your reaction, the more he motivated you to fulfill his demand. You swung your open hand towards his face, but from the angle you were in, you couldn't do it with force, and your hand barely touched and grazed his cheek.

"I said slap me, not grab me! Come on, try again, show me what you've go..." he interrupted as you made a second attempt, managing to slap him with an open hand to the face in the manner he expected. Initially, he fell silent in surprise, then let out a psychopathic laugh.

"Was that so hard, bitch?" he muttered through laughter, not giving you a chance to respond, completely disconnecting you from your senses as he began to fuck you with a speed your body couldn't handle. You bounced off him like a lifeless ragdoll as he used you like a fleshlight. Your babbling and moans were pathetic and unintelligible- clearly showcasing to Anakin how empty-headed you were at that moment, and he seemed newly recharged, ready to drain every last bit of energy from you. Both of you screamed, the mirror fogging up from your aggressive breaths, and your hands trembled, struggling to find stability on the porcelain sink. You saw sweat flooding him, his curly locks sticking to his forehead, framing his wild eyes, whose beautiful blue irises were barely noticeable with his dilated pupils. You saw the trace of your small handprint on his cheek, but the more aggressive thrusts you took, the blurrier your vision became.

"An… Anakin… I'm gonna… I'm gonna…" Sudden impact. A sudden impact momentarily cut you off from the world, and you began to see stars. Not from a spectacular orgasm, not from pleasure. His mechanical hand pushed the back of your head towards the mirror as your forehead shattered it into pieces, creating a spiderweb of glass adorned with your fresh blood. Perhaps both of you were shocked at that moment, so Anakin slowed his movements, but he had no intention of stopping, wide-eyed as he saw you disoriented and bloodied in the reflection of the shattered mirror. Seeing yourself, you felt like screaming, but you felt a hybrid of physical pain and the beginnings of an orgasm that robbed you of your voice. While adrenaline surged in Anakin to a dangerous level, he began to tremble. He began to pulse inside you, feeling on the brink of his own orgasm even amidst the awareness that he might have seriously injured you.

"M-master… I think… I think I'm bleeding." he heard your words as if through a fog, hearing only the buzzing in his own head signaling that he was about to climax. Your elbows buckled beneath you as his weight involuntarily pressed down on your body, and Anakin began to gasp chaotically with his head on your shoulder as his movements became erratic, and his warm seed filled you from within. You groaned with him, unsure if it was from pain or from finding yourself on the edge but not even attempting to explain it to yourself. Skywalker froze inside you for a moment, still pulsating, fearing that if he pulled out, his unstable trembling knees would give way under him, so he breathed warm breaths on your neck, unable to utter a word.

As soon as he pulled out, and you lost the support on his silhouette, you slid down, banging your knees against the cabinet under the sink and landed half-sitting on the floor. You saw Anakin tripled, looking up at him with tears-filled eyes as he stood, his hands trembling against the edges of the sink, and gazed at you with a hint of fear in his eyes. But as Padme returned to his mind, fear subsided, and he saw a successful revenge. He saw a conquest that wanted to be conquered, and he achieved it in the most unexpected way - unexpected even for himself.

"Anakin…" you whispered with a broken voice, smudging the blood flowing down your eyebrow with the tip of your finger, and he just watched, at a loss for words.

"It hurts… Can you…"

"I warned you it would hurt." he interrupted with a hoarse, dark voice as he fastened his belt and adjusted his clothes, clearly preparing to leave. Initially, he intended to leave without a word, took a few steps, casting a final glance at the shattered mirror, but paused at the door upon hearing your sobs.

"Grab a towel when you go to the Med Bay. Nobody wants a mess." he uttered in a cold tone without even making eye contact with you, then tossed you one hanging on the nearest hanger.

"Tomorrow morning, you're expected at training. I don't care what condition you're in. Alive or barely alive." he added before disappearing and slamming the door behind him, leaving you alone with your worries. You sat there, wounded and exhausted. Bruised and broken. Your Master - Anakin Skywalker - destroyed you, and you'll thank him for it.

[eamour]

unfavourable concepts.

i've been meaning to address this for some time now. with social media becoming a platform with such a large number of people talking about different concepts in love, work, health and so on, there are concepts which i think need to be discussed, especially as they affect so many of us.

before we start, celest1albeing on twitter inspired me to write this post! make sure to check out their thread on there as well.

disclaimer.

these are concepts that don’t serve me personally. i don’t expect you to stop believing these concepts or make them apply to you and the world if you have no problems with them. if you can resonate and identify with these, that’s perfectly fine.

concepts of love.

information · these are all only examples which i seem to encounter frequently and which seem to be common.

young men cannot commit · men only treat pretty women with respect · all male friends of women just wanna hit · if he wanted to he would · they categorise you into sweet, sexy and pretty · he doesn’t love you if he does this · men always cheat and lie · they all only want one thing · they only like ass or tits · all men are the same · you can't change his type · you aren't his dream girl · men love quiet women · if a man doesn’t pay he isn't the one

you are just an option · once you are married your partner will become less romantic · after 3 months their true colours will show (honeymoon phase) · true love doesn’t exist · after the talking stage you either get into a situationship or go no contact · getting into a relationship is hard ·

women can’t be friends with men · women are complicated · they only want your money and wouldn’t want to date men who earn little · there is always another woman · they always look for someone better · you have to work on your divine feminine energy · you need to get out of your masculine energy · a woman needs to know her place

concepts of work.

money doesn’t grow on trees · it’s hard to get money · you have to work hard in order to afford your lifestyle · only if you do the work you can get a promotion · you could never be a ceo · you need to be privileged and born into richness for this position · this generation is lazy · no one wants to work · they are all going to end up jobless and poor · nowadays we are only evolving backwards

concepts of school.

you need to learn in order to get good grades · you cannot be smart without putting in the effort · teachers always have their favourite students · it's almost impossible to get good grades by teachers who can't stand you

concepts of health.

pasta makes you gain weight · you need to eat xyz and you cannot eat zyx · junk food is unhealthy · you need to workout in order to be fit · you can only lose weight by eating less · good skin requires an expensive skin care routine · t's hard to treat acne · you cannot get rid of scars on your face

self sabotage.

all in all, it all comes down to one thing: but is this what you want to believe in? do these beliefs serve you in any way? can you continue believing in them without worsening life for yourself? see, i am not the one shoving these concepts down your throat and expecting you to tweet "men ain’t shit". it’s all up to you if you want to claim these concepts as your truth or not. but if you keep believing in any undesirable concept that you KNOW does not help you in any way, you are only self sabotaging yourself IF you know that you can change these beliefs of yours.

evaluation.

the reason why i made this post is to emphasise that you can CHOOSE to believe in these concepts or not. you aren't tied to them. you don't depend on them. and you don't need to follow these concepts either.

i know we live in a society where even if you don’t initially believe that men suck or that you will get cheated on one way or another, we are still influenced by the experiences of others and may end up experiencing these things regardless. but you don’t have to!!! just because jessica had a man promise her the world and left her with nothing it doesn’t mean that it’s gonna happen to you as well. you are NOT her, you aren’t — and you don’t have to be — ANY of these people telling you about how awful people are, how sickening it is to date in this decade, etc. you don’t have to believe ANY of these things, in fact, you can change these concepts and the people around you.

in conclusion, you are your own person with your own individual beliefs. however, you have the CHOICE. no one's forcing you to believe any of these concepts, nor do they hold a universal truth to them. they come from the same awareness that can state the exact opposite.

with love, ella.

[honeybubbledivination]

Loyalty of your Future Spouse or Significant Other 💛

(Could be your current situation with someone you plan to marry or a POSSIBLE future person.)

Please use your own discretion and discernment. This is for entertainment purposes only. I do not offer medical or legal advice.

[Obvi, major tw for infidelity. Mentions of narcissistic tendencies/personality, gaslighting. Unhealthy relationship themes.]

Pick an image to determine your reading! Options go from 1-3, left to right!

Pile one:

‘loml’ - Taylor Swift

‘Still’ - Noah Kahan

‘Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus’ - Taylor Swift

Obligatory note for each pile that ‘the hidden truth oracle’ cards are basically quotes. These are things that they are saying, have said, or will say. It can also be the progression of their thoughts leading up to their frame of mind from the beginning of the connection to the end or current standing. Take it as you will!

‘Love Oracle Cards’ by Beach Time Soul: Not Today, Soulmates, Girl Talk, Heartbroken, Boat, Healthy Choices, Keys on a Ring, Love Call, Ascending, The Chaser, Mask, Girl With a Snake, The Dragonfly

‘The Hidden Truth v2’ by All Things Intuitive: I can be myself with you. // I am recovering. // I am in a committed relationship. // Will you ever make things right? // I can’t be with you. // You broke my heart. // We don’t share the same values. // I don’t know why this happened. // I don’t know what comes next.

‘The Love Oracle’ by Simplistic Mystic: Ghosted, Unfinished Business, Wedding, Proposal, Fated Meeting, Travel, Date, Magnetic Attraction, Family, Finances, Divine Intervention, Unexpected, Storm Warning, Between The Lines, Crossroads, Break Up

‘The Hidden Truth Oracle’ by All Things Intuitive: I want you. // I love you. // I want to feel that way again. // I hide behind material things. // So many things remind me of you. // We both know I am not the one for you. // I left you before you could leave me. // You and I were too young. // You were the best thing in my life. // We need to let each other go. // I can’t stop thinking about you.

Welcome Pile One! I have a heavier reading for you. If your intuition lead you here and you’re read to see the truth, strap in. It feels like the person you’re asking about is someone you’re already with. You’ve been with them long enough to talk about marriage and kids and seeing the world together. But, they’re a liar. I’ll just be upfront about it, no point in having more than one person in your life beat around the bush with you. They’re emotionally immature and have in fact cheated on you. They will never admit it because of their ego, but that’s why they ghosted you recently. They’ve had a one night stand with someone and it’s reminded them of a time or situation where they weren’t very honest with you in the past about someone you considered family. They’ll lie about it if you confront them, but the guilt is eating them alive. You may be close with their family or they’re close with yours. This could be a union that everyone seems to support because you may have helped this person heal, or at least act like they are. But, while you’re at home holding up the foundation, they’re out doing God knows what with God knows who. You should’ve trusted your intuition from the start, but that’s okay because divine intervention is more than just having something randomly come into your life or leave it. Divine intervention is when anyone or anything is in your life for a reason, season, or lifetime. No matter if you decide to stick by this person and let them continue to treat you poorly or if you break it off, they’re in your life for a reason. A lesson of heartbreak and realizing your worth. Would you let anyone treat your family or friends like this? If the answer is no, you need to look in the mirror and realize you not only disrespect yourself when you accept less than you are worth. You’re disrespecting your family and loved ones. Past, present, and future. Now, this person will expect you to pick up the pieces time and time again while they keep breaking everything. And they’ll blame all of it on you. If not to your face, then behind your back with whoever they’re messing around with. Love is not about push and pull, it just exists. It’s not meant to be fought for within the dynamic. It just exists. It’s simple. I hope you realize this and dump that loser. God bless you, honey bee. Drop that idiot before they ghost you. If they’re gonna talk crap, give them a reason to.

- Bunny 🍯💛

Pile Two:

Bad Guy Billie Eilish

So Long, London - Taylor Swift

Casual - Chappell Roan

Obligatory note for each pile that ‘the hidden truth oracle’ cards are basically quotes. These are things that they are saying, have said, or will say. It can also be the progression of their thoughts leading up to their frame of mind from the beginning of the connection to the end or current standing. Take it as you will!

‘Love Oracle Cards’ by Beach Time Soul: Love Call, Separation, Palm Tree, The Grim Reaper, Karmic Relationship

‘The Hidden Truth v2’ by All Things Intuitive: I don’t want to let you go. // I hide my feelings. // I still have feelings for you. // I know you don’t feel the same. // I don’t know what comes next. // We don’t share the same values. // You inspire me. // I feel so happy with you. // I saved your texts and messages. // Your intellect arouses me. // I feel the sexual tension. // I’m not financially stable.

‘The Love Oracle’ by Simplistic Mystic: Player, Grass Is Greener, Single, Between The Lines, Healing, Mystery, Regret, Heartbreak

‘The Hidden Truth Oracle’ by All Things Intuitive: You were the best thing in my life. // I can’t stop thinking about you. // I left before you could leave me. // Sometimes I stay awake thinking about you. // I will wait for a sign from you. // I bury myself in work to forget you. // Just being near you is intoxicating. // I remember every detail of that day. // I look for you everywhere. // My life is not as together as it seems. // I want you.

Hey, Pile Two! Now, this pile felt like you’re not actually with this person currently. Maybe you had a fling with them or dated once upon a time and you’ve been thinking about them. Maybe people thought you’d end up together, but you never really did on official terms. You’ve been thinking about them a little bit lately, I wouldn’t say too much. Just here and there. And they’ve been thinking about you, too! But, this person is not your FS or SO. They’re a karmic relationship meant to test you to see if you’ll grow from what feels comfortable to what is really meant for you. What’s meant for you is being left as a surprise for now. This person doesn’t love you like you love them. They have an infatuation with you because you’re so kind and sweet to them. They like everything about you, but I wouldn’t say that they have feelings for you. They feel like you should be theirs, but they don’t want to actually lay claim by dating or marrying you. Not when they could have sex with whoever they want while they’re single. I don’t think they’d cheat on you if you abandoned your healing journey and where to reach out to them, but I think they’d do everything in their power to make you despise them, so they could validate cheating on you. This person is not loyal to you. They’re loyal to their ego and their sex drive. Find yourself and know that being single is a blessing itself. Stay strong, honey bee! Love and light!

- Bunny 💛🍯

Pile Three:

I Miss the Misery - Halestorm

Kiss U Right Now - DUCKWRTH

Missing Limbs - Sleep Token

Obligatory note for each pile that ‘the hidden truth oracle’ cards are basically quotes. These are things that they are saying, have said, or will say. It can also be the progression of their thoughts leading up to their frame of mind from the beginning of the connection to the end or current standing. Take it as you will!

‘Love Oracle Cards’ by Beach Time Soul: Soulmates, Love, Lightning, Seduction, Abundance, Engagement, Passion, The Dragonfly, Boat

‘The Hidden Truth v2’ by All Things Intuitive: I don’t know what comes next. // I would do it all again. // Your intellect arouses me. //I compare others to you. // I can’t get enough of you.

‘The Love Oracle’ by Simplistic Mystic: Liquid Courage, Truth, New Love, Proposal, Magnetic Attraction, Date, Soulmate, Legal Matters, Intuition, Crossroads, Unfinished Business, Healing, Regret, Heartbreak

‘The Hidden Truth Oracle’ by All Things Intuitive: I love you unconditionally. // I feel you even though we are apart. // I want to tell you how I feel.

Hey, Pile Three! Finally! A light hearted one! The other two piles are in a heavier energy and having to decide to heal or to go back to what’s comfortable. You could be a healed and clean slate version of pile one or two! Good job healing, baby bee! This person I’m seeing for you loves you. But, you need to make sure you’re all healed from those past situations because the person or people from the past will try to come back and sabotage your happiness. So, stick to your guns and stay with the person that makes you feel safe and doesn’t make you nervous or scared. Choose stability, honey bee! This one was definitely shorter, but you’re on the right track! Keeping healing and stay on the right track! Good love and luck!

- Bunny 💛🍯

Bunny’s Note: Thank you for buzzing by, busy bees! This reading was a doozy, but I think it’ll help a lot of you move on and be more realistic about stuff. Just make sure you’re doing what’s best for YOU. No one else matters. You are the center of your own universe. Heal your world before worrying about anyone else. If you’d like to book a private reading about more concerning this reading or anything else, pm me! I don’t do readings about medical or legal stuff!

[bananaactivity]

JAY AND BEN REDSIGNNN

The Boyssss

I’m working on a Benjay tragic romance fic and I had to design them right quick.

I like themmmm I’m gonna do Mal and Evie next then I’ll have the core four finished. They are 21 and 22 respectively. Ben’s always the youngest in my eyes.

I’m not getting rid of the beard idc. I’m adding more scars to Jay next time I draw him because why does Chad have more scars then an isle gang member, and know that half of them are because of Harry.

They have one specific nickname for the other,

Jays is Jay Jay, and Ben is Dumbas- I mean Benji

Here’s some context for there tragic relationship:

Mal and Evie get together after the Sea VK Battle on Harry Hooks boats instead of Ben and Mal. Thus the core four minus Jay are nervous that Ben will retaliate to this by kicking them out of Auradon Uni and off Auradon as a whole. Ben meanwhile has been raised in such a way that he is absolutely terrified of being alone. Jay has just just had to grapple with the fact that he had feelings for Harry beyond a really intriguing rivalry and he can't act on that because of Harry and Umas relationship that was already a steady under current and bloomed even more during the VKs 1st year tenure at Auradon Uni. As well as dealing with all his friends slowly separating in college which is typical. So Ben and Jay are both dealing with feelings of abandonment and stress, neither of them want to think about that pain and would do anything to mask it. Jay is much better equipped to handle this enough to at least seem functional to his friends, but he's teetering on the edge. Jay ended up being the first person to speak with Ben ,who was an absolute wreck, after he stayed holed up in his very fancy prince dorm for many weeks. They already had good chemistry with one another prior and Ben comes onto Jay. It feels good to both, and it's doing what they want in regards to ignoring the bigger deeper issues at play. It's also a secret because obviously a heavily charged and unhealthy relationship like that would be heavily discouraged. Warning, this is not gonna end with a healthy relationship. Some feelings are real like they don't want to actively use and hurt each other, but the emotions at play and the rough start to the relationship DO NOT lay solid ground to foster a good long lasting relationship.

I’m also going to add one fic I wrote from Ben’s Perspective beware it’s not done:

Being a Prince was a tough job. There was so much pressure on him to be a great future king. One major aspect of that was his future spouse; his mother was always bothering him relentlessly on the topic as he grew up. “ Benjamin, Darling you must choose a good spouse, it is imperative to the people's perception of you.” his mother would often say. The constant narrative of “dont be alone” was always pressed on him so hard in fact that he couldn't bare the thought of being alone. It got so bad that that he went with the first present options of someone to court. It was stressful when he and Audrey were courting, the constant trailing during dates stressed him out as well as the media coverage analyzing their every move. Aubrey herself seemed more concerned with the respect that comes with being a queen. Nobody really liked her very much, but she was pretty and she was sweet during those first years. Unfortunately that all faded as the years went by and he felt there was no way out. He couldn't be alone. Then came Mal, she was beautiful and sweet. But she was hopelessly in love with her best friend and her best friend felt the same. It almost became this rush to him to wed her before she could leave and yet he felt so bad about it. He didn't want to be alone. But he pushed it and was alone anyway. The big ass walls in his dorm felt like a cage. What was he to do but sit in his room and cry. And he was alone, which he didn't want to be. Then Jay showed up. Jay handsome, good at Tourney, an excellent swords-man and his closest friend. Looking into his concerned brown eyes, he remembered leaping into his arms. There wasn't much conversation to be had as he was a bawling mess. All he could remember from that night was staring into those eyes for as long as he could and making a move that even he didn't expect. He kissed his best friend. And it felt good, really good. The best part of this situation was that the amazing feelings completely washed over the awful ones that led him to that very moment.Until Jay moved away, he was expressing concerns about the sudden atmosphere; yet he was into it. He had kissed him back and moved his face to kiss him again once they got over that little hurdle. The time spent felt… really nice. It was more intense than anything that had happened before for him. But maybe that was because he had thrown himself so totally into the sensations at play so that no semblance of sadness could worm their way back into his heart.

It was such a drug that they both implored to keep it up. He defended this continuous indulgence with the belief that it was allowing him to show his face on campus.Spending time suffocating in his fancy prince class: “ Kinging 101: The study of Class Disparity” waiting for the pleasant feeling of rough calloused hands pushing him into the corridor just near the lecture room. Every time he felt those hands he breathed a sigh of relief.

If you want to read more check out the pinned post on my blog which has 18 pages of my Descendants AU.

[battlemaiden13]

I have two new story ideas. You’d think I’d try to finish one of the ones I already have or hey start one of the many ideas I’ve already shared (like house of yandere) but no… just more story ideas… anyway here they are (the second one is definitely more thought out):

Story 1)

Victorian Au, Yandere Skeletons/ Reader (or Oc I don’t care) 

Each of the skeletons are different ranks of the nobility system in the middle of a war of territory between the 8 (?) of them but it’s a cold war. Only occasionally do battles actually break out. 

You, a poor beggar, who dresses like a small boy to avoid unwanted attention, stole from the wrong rich looking duke and ended up in the middle of all this chaos. 

You get kidnapped, hunted, enslaved, escape and have to see multiple horrors as each of the twisted skeletons in this cold war. They each discover that you have a special magical talent that would help them win the war so they are all after you. 

Along the way they slowly start to care for the small boy they think you are then bam, gender reveal and they are all fucked! 

It would be a darker story. Lots of gore and horror and unhealthy relationships but sometimes you just want a story where the male love interest would burn the world for you. 

Story 2)

Actor Au, Underswap Papyrus/Reader (or Oc) 

The different monsters are idols and actors on screen, playing out the events of undertale and the different au’s as if they were a connected multiseries as well as branching out into different genres. 

Orange was your favorite actor. Always type cast in different romantic shows and movies as the lead or second male love interest. The characters he portrayed were always similar. The aloof kind hearted monster who seemed lazy but would always go to the end of the world for the one he loved. You found the whole thing romantic and Orange’s screen characters were always your type! He seemed to be the exact same way in real life judging by the interviews so you were ecstatic when you were hired as his producer which came completely out of left field because you were new to the field. 

It didn’t take long to figure out why Orange had to hire a new producer instead of someone well known. He had burnt through all the well known ones because in real life and in person Orange was a total dick!

He was lazy and apathetic and mean! Everything he did seemed to be done in an attempt to annoy you! But like hell you were going to quit. This is what you wanted, no matter what hell he was going to but you through you were going to show him you could do this!

The fun thing about this story is that after Orange’s love story is told you could do the other skeletons. Edge and the director, Sans and his ghost writer, Blue and his choreographer, Red and the stunt double, Money and his co-star, Mutt and the reporter! There is so many options ahhhh! 

[erisawrites]

Who's This?

Pairing: Joker x f!reader

Content Warning: Toxic/Unhealthy relationships; Violent tendencies; Controlling behaviour; sorta wanted this to be yandere, but nothing indicates it so...

Disclaimer: In no way is this a glamorization of abuse/toxicity in relationships, but merely a writing experiment

Word count: 770

M A S T E R L I S T

“Baby.”

Endearments were supposed to be whispered with gentleness and affection, the sweetness of the voice highlighting the love for another.

His voice held nothing, but highlighted everything about her.

“Hajun…”,she was the only one who was allowed to converse on a first name basis, everyone else, including his brothers, were to refer to something else. Unless they wanted to be referred to a hospital.

Almost every time her lips uttered his name did a sea of praises and appreciations follow suite, always being the star-struck, imaginative lover she so desperately desired to be. A dream, a wish, an intense need to love and to be loved.

Why did she anticipate shooting stars in hopes for such a nightmare?

Nothing was out of ordinary for the common eye, but for the woman to be dressed in breezy, short clothes during the blazing heat, alongside loitering near the door was anything but ordinary for the man.

After the surge of fear began receding, Adrenalin kicked in her muscle instincts, an rolling off an excuse immediately, “We ran out of milk, I was just go‐”

“Who's this?”

Her brows furrowed, first in confusion of his diverted interests, second over what this interest was? Never was there a scenario where she suggested going alone without plentiful interrogations, let alone being even allowed to in the first place.

“Sorry?”,she twisted her lips, unsure what his words or his muted facial expression meant. Nothing could be gauged from Joker, ever. No matter how hard or for how long you gaze at him. His countenance betrayed nothing of the inner working of his mind, not a shred of the cunning web that successfully tapers her in its binds.

“Was there something you wanted to…”

As her voice trailed off, her fears tripped in, intensifying with every second Joker lifted a phone. An old, beaten up model which couldn't survive five seconds without a charger, now blaring for its life as it unveiled its contents guilty. Her contents.

Her messages. With-

“Y/N”

Just a single note higher was all it took to activate her flight-or-fight response, ultimately settling upon the freeze option as she cowardly stood still, avoiding his gaze in foolish hopes of avoiding his temper.

“That's mine….”,she gulped, suddenly noticing how frayed the carpets wool had become, the number of glasses being reduced to a few, the strange placements of portraits and paintings along the wall. Almost as if they were hiding something, “I was just talking to someone.”

“To whom.”,his answer spat out like venom, sharp and searing from all the suspicion, mistrust and fury. There was no love in voice. And she doubts if there ever was any.

“It's just a friend.”,she sighed, voice trembling from the exhaustion of tip toeing on eggshells. She cleared her mind from all paranoia lest she were to collapse from the terror clamping down the atmosphere.

Instead that same terror filled her eyes. And every fiber within her.

One second ago, she was skimming the messages scattered on the screen. Next second later, an ear splitting crash jolted her sideways as the phone crashed against the doorknob, its screen instantly fading to black. A smattered mobile and crooked handle dropped onto the frayed carpet. For the fourth time this year.

“Ha-Hajun.”,she murmured, too apprehensive to even breathe. She has seen many things break, many objects splinter, a by product of her clumsiness, no doubt.

Yet, witnessing just a small, no, a minute fraction of his ire pelted onto something personal to the woman rooted her feet onto the spot, despite every nerve in her body begging her to run away. But no, she was too scared to even do that. Too scared to breathe, too scared to chat, too scared to pick groceries, too scared to do anything.

Though her anxiety deafened her ears to her surroundings, they conveniently picked up his shuffling footsteps, accompanied by his growing, grotesque shadow. He was a man of great height undoubtedly, but his darkness surpassed even greater heights.

The jingle of keys was her first grounding back to reality,“I already bought milk this morning.” The man pocketed them in his joggers, its tinker muffled, but loud enough to remind her of the one ticket to freedom she lost.

Her head dropped to the floor, perhaps the burden of curating herself to his needs was straining her muscles. Her gaze lingered over the splintered mess decorating the drab carpets, trying to remember who exactly she was messaging.

Yet comically enough, when her eyes landed upon her reflection on the cracked glass, she didn't even remember who she was.

[prettyoatmeal]

pls pls pls pls pls

i need more FWB simon 😭😭

We're Just Friends (FWB!Simon x GN!Reader)

A/N: You need it anon, you got it!! I need to write more hurt/comfort because damn I loved writing this. Post anon is referring to.

GENRE: Hurt/Comfort

Synopsis: You and Simon have established a friends-with-benefits relationship. But the boundaries set in place keep getting overstepped. Your brain his confused, Simon's heartstrings are getting pulled back and fourth, and it isn't exactly your fault. Simon's in denial, and that barrier slowly starts to break.

Word Count: 770

Masterlist here!

***************

"You seemed awfully touchy with others tonight."

"Simon-"

"I don't like the way they were looking at you."

"Are you jealous?"

He grumbled against your skin, feeling his lips pressing small kisses along the crook of your neck through the fabric of his mask. Pushing you further into the countertop in front of you, his grip on your hips was becoming more possessive by the second.

No matter how many times you would tell him, it seemed like it didn't really matter. You two weren't a couple, you're allowed to do your own thing, even if you weren't really trying to. He had a bit of a habit of becoming too touchy or affectionate to your liking in regards to your arrangement, and now it was especially showing through after a little get-together at his flat.

"Relax, they weren't looking at me in any way. And I'm allowed to explore my options."

"I know.. jus' like you to myself sometimes. That's all."

This was becoming too confusing. For yourself, and for him. You'll push him away, remind him your situation isn't longterm, that you're doing this for him and that if someone comes along then you're allowed to pull out. But you couldn't help but think that maybe there was something more that he wasn't telling you. No matter how many times he'll deny it, it was getting a little obvious.

Too obvious.

The way you unintentionally tugged on his heartstrings over and over again, the effect you had placed on him was getting too much to ignore.

Pulling the infuriating fabric of his mask down and breathing in your scent with a long sigh, it was clear he wasn't going to let you go. Not yet at least. Placing the small porcelain dishes into the sink which you had been holding, you turned the tap on to start cleaning them. May as well make yourself useful if you weren't going to move, the clean smell of his dish washing liquid filling your senses.

But as his face nuzzled further into your soft skin, he couldn't get enough of you, his hands gripping at the flesh of your hips, squeezing your waist and pulling you as flush against him as he could. He didn't like the dish washing liquid drowning you out. He was becoming needy, mumbling a few words which only become muffled against you.

But you already got the feeling you knew what he said.

"Don't-" You warned. But he didn't want to listen, cutting you off.

"Please, lovie," he lifted his face from your neck just enough so you could hear him, "please stay. Just one night, just tonight."

He sounded upset almost, his pleading voice lingering with something more than just neediness.

Normally this would've gone no where, but something was telling you to stay. And you weren't sure if it was yourself, or the forces of nature. You knew that accepting will only play with his heart further. You were cruel for promising him you'll stay. But how could you say no to him sounding so sickeningly desperate.

This was getting unhealthy.

"Fine," you answered him reluctantly, "but just this once."

You were pulled away from the sink, and in a matter of minutes, the make-out session had ensued on his bed. A bed that smelled so comfortingly of him. You expected the usual -sloppy kisses followed by your guts getting rearranged by the behemoth of a man on top of you. But that wasn't his plan.

His lips moved slowly against yours, kissing you in the dimmed lights of his bedroom as if he loved you, and left your heart and head confused.

"Need you," he whispered against your plump lips, "I need you like.. like this." laying next to you, his arms wrapped around you with his head pressing against your chest, "please."

All you did sigh and hold him close. It felt wrong. You hoped this wouldn't also become a habit, burying himself closer to your warmth.

"This wasn't part of our agreement."

Silence. His arms around you tightened.

"You're playing with my head."

Silence again.. but this time it was followed by a muffled grumble into the fabric of the Nirvana shirt he gave you for pyjamas, which was considerably oversized on you. Throughout his protests, you could make out a small whine of 'I'm sorry'.

And with a sigh, you reach over to his bedside table to turn the lamp off, cradling his head closer to you as you placed a small kiss on the top of his head.

"Goodnight, Simon. Sweet dreams."

***************

<33 happy November 21st! <3

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

So hear me out, the first time Donna is close enough to reader while they sleep right? Well. Reader may have forgot to mention that they randomly stop breathing for a few seconds sometimes(it’s called sleep something that starts with an A) idk I think it’s kinda funny when I do that but yk. That or reader who had horrible depth perception and walks into things all the time so has bruises everywhere and forgets where exactly they come from

Yesss!!! Well, I chose the apnea option if you don't mind :))) Thank you for your request, I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))

Sleeping problems

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, reader has sleep apnea, protective Donna

Word count: 2,686

Summary: You live with Donna now, but maybe you forgot about telling her something...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes, Donna requests are open!! My other account problems are solved, but I've decided to stay here definetely :))) I'm gonna make a master list and rules soon. I love you all!! :))))

“Are you comfortable?” Donna asked, covering you with the sheets. Her hands trembled, revealing a more than obvious nervousness.

It wasn't like other times at the beginning of your relationship. This time you could say that her nerves were more than justified. After months of insisting, insisting and insisting, you finally decided to take the final step: abandon your old house in the village and live with her.

Donna was your first long-term relationship, and you had doubts too. If something went wrong, you didn't know what the consequences could be. She was still one of the lords of the place and if you hurt her, you would suffer her wrath, and probably Mother Miranda's as well.

But that absurd fear of discrepancies or disagreements disappeared as soon as you started to really get to know her. Donna would never hurt you, or at least it’s what your almost unhealthy heart made you think.

Donna Beneviento had many flaws…. Some of them were natural, others were caused by years and years of terrible loneliness. To get used to her fear of losing you or her completely unjustified jealousy didn't take you too long, although it's true that this obsession with possessing you was the hardest thing to adjust to. She was that way, and you could never change it.

“Yes, yes... I'm fine, Donna,” you replied amused, snuggling up next to her in bed. “Come on, calm down.”

“Okay, okay,” she sighed, freeing her black hair from the messy bun she always tied it in. “Forgive me, (Y/N), I'm just nervous.”

“Don't apologize,” you said, laughing, grabbing her hand tenderly making that tremor disappear. “By the way… What should we do now?” You asked, lowering your tone and purring very close to her ear.

“What do you want to do?” She asked back, avoiding one of your unexpected kisses.

“I don't know... You and me... A bed...” You said murmuring, running a finger along her waist.

She pulled away from you and shook her head, a tender smile on her face.

“No, tesoro... Not tonight,” she said in a soft voice, suppressing the shiver that your touch made her feel.

“Why?” You asked, disappointed.

“Tonight is a very special moment, I don't want to ruin it.”

“Ruin it? Hey…” You said, pretending to be offended.

“No, I'm not saying that because I don't like it, (Y/N)... I just... I just want our first night together to be special...”

“Oh, well, okay,” you said reluctantly, lying down again and forgetting the desire that had already begun to form inside you. “So?  We are going to just sleep?”

“Aren't you excited to sleep with me?” She asked, letting out her demons, the shadows that made her doubt your feelings.

“What? Of course, of course, darling,” you said, scared by her heavy breathing. It wasn't easy to deal with her problems. Sometimes you forgot how sensitive she could be.

“You don’t love me?” She asked, her eye shining, with an expression of genuine terror. Time to act.

“Well, of course I love you, Donna... Come on, relax, breathe, breathe with me,” you said, grabbing her hands, sitting on the bed and keeping your gaze on hers. “That's it… take a breath…”

She obeyed your instructions and finally relaxed.

“I'm sorry, (Y/N). I wish I didn't have these… Flaws,” she said, snuggling next to you under the covers.

“Don’t worry. We all have flaws,” you replied, caressing her body and kissing the palm of her hand.

“Not you,” she said with a hoarse voice.

“Oh, of course I have…”

Donna looked at you curiously, reaching out with her hand to turn off the light on the table and make darkness fall over your embraced bodies.

“Go to sleep, princess... The truth is that I'm very excited to wake up next to you,” you said softly, planting a soft and tender kiss on her cheek.

“Really?” She asked, excited again.

“Really…”

Moving the stuff you had in your house to the Beneviento estate was an exhausting work. You didn't really know why you were interested in doing anything different than sleeping. Tiredness made your eyelids close immediately and, with the heat of her body pressed against yours, you fell into a deep sleep.

Even though you weren't used to that bed (at least to sleeping on it), nothing could stop you from dreaming peacefully like every night.

“Mmm,” you murmured when the light on the table made you squeeze your eyes tightly.

“(Y/N)... You're awake,” Donna whispered, looking at you, sitting on the bed and running a hand over your cheek. You smiled when you felt her caresses and yawned lazily.

“Yes, now I am...” you murmured with your voice hoarse from sleep. “What time is it?”

“8 o'clock,” she responded, studying your gaze in a strange way.

“Oh my God, I’ve slept so well...” you said, sitting up and stretching comically.

“I don't think so, idiot... You...” Angie's squeaky voice made your ears tremble.

“Angie, shut up,” Donna said sharply, making her doll flee the room in terror.

“What is she talking about?” You asked, still with problems to open your eyes.

“Nothing, it doesn't matter,” Donna said, perhaps a bit abruptly. “Have you really rested well?”

“Of course, why do you ask?” You wanted to know, taking a sip of the glass of water on your table.

“Oh, it's nothing,” Donna responded, with that look that betrayed a filthy lie.

“Did you sleep well?” You asked, giving your girlfriend a quick kiss on the lips. She stood still for a moment, until she smiled softly and nodded.

“With you by my side, tesoro, I have rested better than ever," she whispered into your lips, kissing you again before getting up. There was something strange in her gaze, but you ignored it. “You want breakfast?”

“Of course, of course. I'm quite hungry,” you said happily, as she got out of bed.

That was the first day of many others. Living with her was the best decision of your life, without a doubt. Your relationship only got better and better. Although, it is true that strange things happened every night. Sometimes you had the feeling that you were waking up, or rather, that you were being woken up, by gently moving your body. You didn't give it the slightest importance.

One afternoon, as was customary, you rested on her chest while you took a hot bath. With the cold outside, it was an unimaginable pleasure.

Donna yawned loudly, making you turn your head in amusement.

“Are you sleepy?” You asked with a slightly mocking tone. The water moved when you wanted to turn around and face her.

“No, I... Well, maybe a bit,” she responded, cupping your face in her hands. “Come, I like to caress you.”

The doll maker turned you around again, making your head rest on her bare chest again, under the pleasant temperature of the hot water.

“It's 5 in the afternoon,”  you continued mocking.

“Oh, is it?” She asked, relaxing her breathing, gently grabbing your waist.

“Yes, that's what the clock says,” you said, amused.

Although everything was going perfectly well, Donna was weirder than usual.

“Oh, of course, the clock tells the time...” she said in a tired, almost delirious tone. You frowned and made another attempt to turn around, frustrated by her hands pressing you against her chest.

“Donna, honey… Are you okay?” You asked, joining your hands with his under the water.

“Yes, yes...” she sighed. You shrugged.

“Okay, then... Do you feel like taking a walk? I heard there is a meteor shower tonight,” you said, making her arm pass through your chest, surrounding it affectionately.

“Mm,” she murmured, taking advantage of the position of her arm to continue caressing you, slower and slower.

“I always liked to see how the stars fall from the sky... When I was little I always asked myself what would happen if they touched the ground...”

“Mm”

“I imagined that they would fall like diamonds, shining in the darkness of the night, and that I could take one home. How silly, don't you think?”

That time, not even a soft murmur left her lips. You moved, surprised. You always liked to talk too much and Donna always listened to you with her full attention.

You turned slowly, removing her now motionless arm from your body.

Donna had her head resting on the bathtub, breathing deeply with her eye closed. You couldn't believe what you saw.

“Donna,” you said, amused. “Hey, Donna!” You screamed louder, splashing some water on her face.

“Mm? What?” she asked, shaking her head confused, making a face of disgust at the water you threw in her face. “Dove siamo?”

“What? You’re asking me where are we? Donna, honey, we're home... In the bathtub...” You said in disbelief, watching as she looked erratically to the sides, blinking repeatedly. “You have fallen asleep.”

“Have I?” She asked, sighing, sitting up. “Oh, well…”

“It's not the first time in several days that I see you falling asleep around the house, are you sure you're okay?” You asked, brushing the hair from her face. She nodded, once again giving away the lie.

“Oh, I... Well... Yes, I'm fine, just... You know, the heat of the steam... Being here with you... I've relaxed too much, I'm so sorry.”

“Don’t worry...” you said with a suspicious look, kissing his wounded cheek carefully.

As the days passed, her sudden naps became more and more frequent. You knew something was wrong with her, but she didn't want to tell you. You began to believe that it had something to do with you, and that it had a lot, a lot to do with a small detail about you that you had never told her about.

“Angie, where is Donna?” You asked, closing the book you were reading. The doll shrugged. You looked at the clock on the wall and frowned. “It's almost lunch time, normally at this time she is already cooking.”

“Hey, stupid (Y/N), you think my Donna is your slave?” The doll protested, climbing onto the couch next to you.

You rolled your eyes.

“No, Angie. If she let me cook I wouldn't be asking.”

“That's because your food is garbage, garbage!” The doll screeched irritatingly.

“It's funny that a porcelain doll without stomach or sense of taste tells me that,” you said mockingly, crossing your arms. “Anyway, I'm going to look for her, I'm sure she hasn't noticed the time.

After avoiding the throwing of objects that Angie usually protested with, you took the elevator down. It was quite common for time to fly by for her when she worked on her dolls.

“Donna? It's me, are you there?” You asked softly, knocking on the workshop the doors. “Donna?”

There was no response, which made you a bit nervous. You decided to leave education aside and open the door yourself. The sight before you was funny and strange at the same time.

Sure enough, Donna was there, sitting in one of the chairs. But she wasn’t focused like she usually was. No, this time her head was resting on the table, making soft sounds, suspiciously similar to the ones she made when she fell asleep.

“I don’t believe what I see,” you said, holding back your laughter, slowly approaching the woman. “Hey, Donna,” you said, moving her back slowly, caressing it so as not to startle her.

“(Y/N)?” The woman in black growled, raising her head from the table. On her cheek, she had stuck a color palette, which had smeared paint all over her face. Your desire to laugh only increased.

“Were you putting on makeup?” You joked, under her disoriented gaze.

“What? No, no... I was... I was painting a doll and...” She said in a hoarse voice, running her hands over her stained face. “Oh, not again…”

“You fell asleep again, huh?” You said, crossing your arms. “Look what you've made to your face. Come, let me help you.”

“Yes, yes I... Oh...” She murmured confusedly, letting you help her to stand up.

The two of you walked to the sink in the next room and carefully cleaned the paint stains from her face.

You ran the water over her face, removing most of the paint.

“Sit down, my love,” you said lovingly, grabbing a towel that was near the sink. She simply nodded, embarrassed.

While you passed the towel over her face, definitively cleaning it, you decided that it was time to talk about those naps.

“Donna,” you whispered, sighing and bending down, putting your hands on her shoulders so she could look at your face. “I’m worried about you.”

“About me? Why? I'm fine,” she said, pathetically looking away from her.

“You lie terribly,” you said, amused. “I've been living with you for two weeks and... I don't know, Donna, something's wrong with you, you're constantly exhausted.”

“I don't…”

“Come on, tell me what's happening. Look at you... It seems like you haven't slept in days,” you said, delicately lifting her chin. “You don’t sleep?”

She didn't respond. She simply shook her head slowly.

“Don’t you? Wow, am I moving too much?” You asked, sitting in a chair next to her.

Donna shook her head again.

“Okay...” You said to yourself, thoughtful.

“You... Sometimes you... No, you stop breathing,” Donna said, with trembling hands, as if the mere fact of saying something like that disturbed her. “Every night I hug you and… Suddenly, your chest stops moving, I can't hear your breathing. You always do it again but... I'm, I'm really afraid that one day...”

“Oh, that was it!” You said, with a tone perhaps too high. “Don't worry about that, Donna. It's normal, it's happened to me since I was little.”

“Don't worry? I'm saying that you stop breathing, (Y/N),” she said with a serious, stern tone.

“Yes, I know,” you whispered, amused, relieved to finally know the problem. “It's something that happens to many people. It's called sleep apnea.”

“I've never read anything about that,” Donna said, feeling ashamed of her ignorance.

“Well, it's nothing you have to worry about. Sometimes I stop breathing for a few seconds while I'm sleeping, but I always do it again. The doctor said there was nothing to worry about.”

“Why hadn't you told me before?” She asked, offended by what she believed was a lack of trust.

“Because I don't consider it something important...” You sighed, smiling in relief. “Wait, wait,” you said, frowning, when some revelations crossed your mind. “Haven't you slept all these nights?”

She shook her head, looking down again.

“I stay awake to watch you. If, if something happens to you while I'm sleeping I... I don't know what would happen to me.”

You couldn't help but burst into loud laughter.

“Does it seem funny to you?” She asked offended.

“No, no... It just, it just seems very cute to me, Donna... So that's why you fall asleep anywhere, because you're awake at night... Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“This is serious, (Y/N),” the woman scolded you, her gaze cold.

“No, no... You shouldn't worry so much, really... Do you trust me?”

“I do”

“Then forget about it, okay? Stop watching me at night. Nothing will happen to me, I promise. Not sleeping is very dangerous for your health.”

“Losing you would be even worse,” she stated sadly, looking for your hand to squeeze it tightly with hers.

“You're not gonna lose me”

After those sincere words, you leaned to kiss her tenderly, to say with a kiss how much you loved her, how much you were happy about the enormous love she felt for you.

“Now, honey, go to bed, get the rest you need. I'll make the food, even if Angie says it's garbage.”

“Oh, come on, she doesn't mean it,” Donna said, amused, getting up from the chair with your help.

“Shh, shut up and go to sleep, my beautiful Donna... I love you so much...” You sighed, not being able to avoid kissing her again.

“Me too, (Y/N), me too...”

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Insecure.

Written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Toxic!Wanderer x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 5.0k.

TW: Modern AU, AFAB!Reader, Non///Con, Public Sex, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Wildly Unhealthy Relationships, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Intimidation, and Self-Oriented Victim Blaming From Reader. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. No Seriously Dude Those Doves Are So Dead.

[Part One]

“This is boring.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s too hot to be outside. And this place reeks.”

“You’re wearing long sleeves in the middle of summer, and it’s a college campus. I don’t know what you expected.”

“You look hot.”

You let out a disgruntled groan, leaning back in your seat and bringing a hand up to your temple. Kunikuzushi seemed to drink in your agitation, crossing his arms, the corners of his lips pulling up into a smug grin. “How did you even know I was here?”

His answer was immediate, non-verbal. He held up his phone, the screen blatantly and proudlydisplaying a simple grid-map and, of course, a little blue dot settled into the grey backdrop. You felt something start to ache in the back of your skull. “You’re tracking my phone?”

“Yeah, right, your phone.”

You started to buckle into yourself, but stopped yourself. You were in public – tucked into the smallest corner of your campus’ most out-of-the-way common area, sure, but still in public. There was a group of students gathered around one of the bigger tables less than ten feet away, and another couple just behind them. You used to fight with Kunikuzushi so often. You’d never resorted to public screaming matches, but you’d never had to think twice before storming out of bars and cafes, never thought twice about blocking his number or throwing away his flowers or telling anyone who’d listen that you were absolutely, definitely, totally going to break up with him for good, this time. Now, you couldn’t find it into yourself to be so brash. You couldn’t stand the idea of being seen with him, let alone calling more attention to yourself. It felt like you were one slip-up, one arm draped around your waist, one ring of bruises wrapped around your neck before someone saw through you, guessed what kind of person Kunikuzushi was and confronted you about why you’d stay with someone like that. You were afraid of him, sure, but you were more afraid of what would happen if people realized just how scared you really ought to be.

Not that you wanted to be with him. You wanted to move across the country, to burn your clothes and cut your hair, to change your name and pretend he’d never so much as lookedat you, but your options were limited. He’d taken care of your internship the day you’d moved in with him, and he bought you out of your lease within the same week. The few friends you still had after Kunikuzushi sunk his teeth into your social life were pushed to a distance, and the thought of running back to the same people who’d told you to stay as far from Kunikuzushi as you could get was enough to make you feel dizzy and exhausted, light-headed and glued to the floor all at once.

Even that, the idea that you could go to someone for help, was delusional. He barely let you go to class, and even that was a tedious connection, a privilege that could be revoked with a phone call and a new deadbolt on the door to his apartment. He didn’t like it when you had things to think about that didn’t revolve around him, and while keeping him happy was in the best interest of your safety, dropping out wasn’t an option. You could find another place to live. You could find another internship. But, if flunked out, if you failed too many classes, you’d lose your scholarship. If you lost your scholarship, you wouldn’t be able to graduate. If you didn’t graduate…

You had to graduate. You had to.

You weren’t sure you’d ever be able to get away from Kunikuzushi, if you didn’t.

You heard a scoff, felt the table shake as Kunikuzushi drove his heel into one of its legs. “Y’know, it’s rude to ignore people. ‘specially after I came all this way just to spend time with you.”

You must’ve zoned out. You hadn’t meant to, you never wanted to give Kunikuzushi an excuse to shorten your leash even further, but it’d been happening more and more. On your best days, you could keep yourself grounded, stay in your own body long enough to make it seem like you were managing what has left of your life. On your worst days… well, you didn’t remember much of your worst days. You usually couldn’t bring yourself to get out of bed. Kunikuzushi loved your worst days. “Sorry,” you mumbled, more out of reflex than any genuine remorse. “Why are you here, anyway?”

“Like I said, I wanted to spend time with you.” He shrugged, still grinning. “You should drop out.”

Just like that, your heart dropped into your stomach. If you hadn’t been in public, if you weren’t so disconnected from what went on in your own mind, you might’ve cried.

Instead, you bowed your head. Your voice was quieter than you wanted it to be, but it was a small miracle you could force yourself to speak at all. “I… don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Since when do you think for yourself?” He wasn’t fazed. The question was accompanied by a slow, breathy laugh, a flash of teeth as he leaned forward, propping his head on his fist. “I mean, c’mon, it’s not like you’d actually use a degree. I’m already taking care of you.” He dropped lower, taking on a raspy lilt. “All you’ve gotta worry about is keeping me company and taking my—”

You cut him off with an indignant huff, already recoiling. You moved to stand, to get away from him, but felt a pair of hands cover your eyes before you could. There was a familiar laugh, the feeling of curly hair bruising against your cheek, and then a melodic voice playing just beside your ear. “Guess who.”

For the first time that day, you couldn’t help but smile. “I know it’s you, Ajax. You’re the only person lame enough for this.”

There was a hum before he let you go, bracing himself on the back of your chair and leaning over you. He was dressed like he always was – which was to say, like it was the middle of winter, his coat long enough to reach his ankles and thick enough to make you shudder with sympathy pains, your agony unaided by the scarf wrapped loosely around his neck. Maybe you shoulddrop out, or transfer, at least. Between him and Kunikuzushi, you were starting to think there was something in the air that made people want to get heatstroke. “Hey, I’m just trying to surprise my favorite study-buddy. You looked like you could use a little cheering up.” He glanced toward Kunikuzushi, then flashed you a knowing grin. “I know this guy tends to bring down the mood.”

Kunikuzushi sunk into his seat, his smugness immediately overshadowed by agitation. “Oh, you know each other?”

“We’re coworkers,” Kunikuzushi answered, glaring daggers toward Ajax.

“Wait, you have a job?”

He didn’t indulge you with a response, only scoffing and throwing his head to the side. Ajax took up the mantle. “Honestly, I’m more surprised to see him hanging out with someone outside of work. Always struck me as the ‘lone wolf’ type, if you know what I mean. If I knew you two were friends, I would’ve made more of an effort to drag him to our—"

As he spoke, his hand came to rest on your shoulder, but he’d barely touched you when Kunikuzushi pushed himself to his feet, already snarling. “Keep your fucking hands to yourself.” Reflexively, Ajax pulled back, holding his hands up defensively, and with a ragged breath and a half-hearted effort to calm himself down, Kunikuzushi went on. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to touch someone’s fiancé, idiot?”

This time, Ajax’s laugh was slightly more strained, his posture slightly more stiff. “Yeah, uh, right. My bad, dude.” He moved to ruffle your hair (his most common send-off, no matter how often you groaned and complained that you’d look like a mess for the rest of the day), but stopped himself quickly – rubbing the back of his neck. “I… didn’t realize you were engaged.” Despite his stiffness, he managed to offer you a small smile. “See you in class?”

“Save me a seat.” And then, letting your eyes fall to your feet, “Sorry about him, he’s…”

“Territorial, I get it. I’d be a little jealous too, if I managed to get a ring on your finger.”

He winked, and before you could roll your eyes, he’d turned on his heel and disappeared around the nearest corner, melting into the throng of milling students. Once he was gone, you turned back to Kunikuzushi, still seething. That was one of the worst things about being with Kunikuzushi. It wasn’t enough to make your life miserable, he had to make sure you didn’t have anything left to live for. “Why would you tell him we’re engaged?”

“I’ll get you a ring.” You opened your mouth, but he was talking before you had a chance to cut in. “This is why you shouldn’t bother with this shit. All you’re going to do is waste your time and get hit on by desperate losers trying to get their dicks wet.”

“As opposed to staying home with you, where I can get hit on by one desperate loser trying to get his dick wet.” You shook your head, but shut your mouth and stood up before he could pull you into a real argument. Throwing your bag over your shoulder, you turned away from him, starting in the direction of your lecture hall. “I have to get to class. We can talk about this later.”

Before he could protest, you made your way out of the common area. There was a beat of silence, a brief moment of respite. Then, you heard his footsteps pick-up behind you, settling into pace with your own. You glanced over your shoulder and, predictably, found Kunikuzushi walking behind you. “What do you want now?”

“You’re going to class,” he said, a smug grin already tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’m coming with you.”

You frowned. “It’s a general credit. You’ll be bored out of your mind.”

“I don’t care.” He took your hand in his, squeezing gently when you tried to pull away. Immediately, you stopped resisting, hyper-aware of the way his blunt nails scraped against your skin, of how intensely his eyes burnt into yours. “Is it a crime to want to spend as much as time as I can with my fiancé?”

You shuddered involuntarily. You couldn’t tell if jealously staking his claim to you during a minute-long conversation with your classmate and his coworker was genuinely his idea of a proposal, or if he just took joy in the way you flinched every time he threw that word around. Either way, you didn’t like it.

“Fine, whatever.” You shrugged open the door to one of the more rustic buildings on campus, dragging Kunikuzushi along with you. “Just don’t cause a scene, okay? I’m really not in the mood.”

He only smiled, letting his head lull to the side. You forced yourself to tear your eyes away from him, focusing on the crowded hallway in front of you instead. Your class was in one of the larger lecture halls on campus – stadium style, oppressively beige, the rows of desks curved around the raised stage at the front of the room. It was already mostly full, too, thanks to how long Kunikuzushi had held you up. You made a brief effort to find Ajax before deciding you didn’t want anyone you knew by name to see you latched onto your moody boyfriend and moved toward one of the middle rows, but he stopped you, digging his heels into the floor. “Sit in the front.” You sent him a look that said ‘what the fuck do you want now?’, and he grinned. “What? I’m trying to do you a favor.”

“You can do me a favor by letting me get through this with minimal psychic damage.” You dragged him to the back of the hall and slid into a relatively empty row, trying to stay as far away from the other students as you could. In spite of his stubbornness, his preference to control everything down to how often you blinked, he didn’t fight it, just slipping into the seat next to you, leaning back and watching on as you pulled out a half-mangled notebook and a couple pens. You knew you wouldn’t be able to focus, much less take notes with Kunikuzushi hovering over your shoulder, but you wanted to at least pretend you didn’t care about him and his leering for the next two hours. It wasn’t like he’d leave you alone once you got back into the confines of his stifling, barren apartment, so you had to take advantage of what little peace you’d be able to get, today.

By the time your class started, he was fully reclined, his arms crossed and his expression slack in boredom. The rows hadn’t been crammed as closely together as possible, he might’ve propped his feet on the desktop, shut his eyes, done everything he could to show just how disinterested he was in the lecture he’d demanded to sit through.

By the ten-minute mark, he’d pulled his chair next to yours, watching over your shoulder as you jotted down what little of the professor’s lecture you could hear over the sound of your race heart. You didn’t like it when Kunikuzushi got so close to you, anymore. It was hard to remember why you ever had.

Twenty minutes in, you felt his hand ghost over your leg, his fingertips grazing past your thigh. You tried to brush it off, to ignore him, but his hand settled onto your knee and you snapped up to glare at him. “What are you—”

He shushed you, leaning against your side. “Keep your voice down. We’re in class, remember?”

You frowned, but relented, turning your attention back to the front of the classroom. You resigned yourself to pointedly ignoring him, jotting down incoherent notes and attempting to drown out Kunikuzushi’s looming presence with the professor’s droning lecture. You’d almost blocked him out by the time he started moving, again, kneading the plush of your thigh gently, his dull nails burrowing into your skin just a little too deeply to ignore. Determined, you didn’t react, but that didn’t faze him. His hand only crept higher, catching the hem of your shorts and toying with the thin fabric, forcing you to acknowledge just how little you’d done to fend him off. If you’d known he was going to visit you on campus, you would’ve worn jeans, or made more of an effort to avoid him. If you’d known he was going follow you into class just to harass you, you would never have gotten up in the first place.

You jumped as his fingers slipped under the fabric, fanning out against your skin. With an airy sigh, you leaned back, already swatting away his hand. You spoke under your breath, trying to hide the way your voice shook. “Fine. If you’re going to be a brat about it, we can go home.”

“And ruin your attendance?” His tone was pleading, muted but dripping with something thick and saccharine. “I can’t let you do that, baby, not when your grades are so importantto you.”

You tried to get up, but he drew back, throwing an arm over your shoulders and pulling you back into your seat. “I tried to take you home, but no, you decided that sitting in a dusty room with that fucking redhead was more important to you than me.” He hauled you closer, holding his mouth next to your ear. “If you decide to go home now and waste more of my time, I promise, you’ll be in for something much worse than anything I can do to you here.”

For the second time that day, you froze, suddenly unable to move. Kunikuzushi took your silence as submission, kissing your cheek before his hand fell back to your thigh.

This time, he was kind enough (or cruel enough) not to play coy, not to try to hide what he was going to do. He squeezed your thigh with enough force to bruise before delving into the space between your legs – his middle finger tracing over the seam that ran over the length of your cunt, only pausing to rub circles into your clit through the material. You really, really should’ve worn something else, something thicker, something that would’ve put you at a distance from his invasive touch. You would’ve given anything not to feel that slow, painful friction, not to recognize the aching curl of arousal starting to form in the pit of your stomach. Kunikuzushi was an asshole – a possessive, controlling asshole – but he knew you. He knew your weak points. He’d held you down and exploited them until you knew that as well as he did.

With two fingers, he pressed into your clit, and you jolted into yourself. Reflexivity, you tried to clench your thighs shut, but Kunikuzushi caught you by the knee and spread your legs farther, making more room for him to work between them. “Play nice.” He was whispering, but you wished he wouldn’t talk at all. You wished he’d keep his mouth shut and let you suffer in silence. “You don’t want to make this into a show, do you?”

You didn’t. God, you didn’t. You couldn’t imagine anything worse than getting caught, than having someone notice and scream and draw attention to what Kunikuzushi was doing to you. In the best case scenario, he’d stop and you’d have plausible deniability, pretend that you believed you could say your overly affectionate boyfriend was just being touchy and someone would buy it. In the worst case scenario, in the most likely scenario, he wouldn’t, and you didn’t know how you be able to live with yourself if someone saw you like this. Would you have to appear in front of the dean to apologize that your boyfriend had fingered you in front of a captive audience? Would there be paperwork? Would any of the blame fall on Kunikuzushi, or would you be the one held responsible for what he couldn’t stop doing to you?

You shook your head frantically, clenching your eyes shut and balling your hands into fists. Kunikuzushi clicked his tongue, cooing in mock-disappointment. “That’s just mean, baby. First you don’t want to admit we’re in love, now you don’t even want to be seen with me. Next, you’ll want to forget I exist altogether.” He flicked his wrist, and you dug your teeth into the inside of your cheek. “And you remember how well it went for you last time you tried to ditch me, right?”

It was a labored effort, jerky and jolting, but you forced yourself to inhale, to straighten your back, to curl your hands around the corner of the desktop and make a passing effort to ground yourself, but Kunikuzushi wouldn’t let you have your peace for very long. You let out a small sigh as he pulled back, but your relief was short-lived – ripped away from you the moment his fingers found your waistband, slipping into your shorts before you could so much as delusionally hope he'd show you mercy. There was a breathy laugh, two fingers pressed into your clit. “Christ, you’re soaked,” he muttered, his delight audible. “I still can’t believe I turned you into such a fucking slut.”

You tried to shrink into yourself, to cross your arms over the desktop and hide your face, but Kunikuzushi caught you, keeping you upright and leaving you to bury your face in his shoulder. The desk would’ve been more soothing. He was moving too quickly, his arm shifting uncomfortably against your chest as he rubbed tight circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves, as he fell lower – his ring and middle fingers dipping into your drenched pussy in quick, shallow thrusts that only seemed to make you more aware of the slick starting to drip down the inside of your thighs. Your professor was still talking, but the lecture was incomprehensible, drowned out by the wet squelching of Kunikuzushi’s digits thrusting into you, somehow barely audible and skull-crushing deafening all at once. No one else could hear it. It just wasn’t an option; it wasn’t a possibility. You couldn’t let yourself start to think about what would happen if someone else heard it.  

He was merciless, grinding the heel of his palm into your clit as his slender fingers pumped into you. He didn’t pause, didn’t experiment, just held himself to the same monotonous, uniform thrusts, punishing you with a brutal pleasure you just couldn’t seem to escape. His fingertips scraped against something soft and needy inside of you and reflexively, your hands shot to his arm, your nails burrowing into his sleeves and biting into his skin. If he felt it, he didn’t seem hurt. Kunikuzushi only laughed, resting his head against yours and falling into a brutal, unfaltering tempo.

Distantly, you heard paper sliding against wood, pages turning, then a low whistle. “Why didn’t you tell me you could draw?” If you’d been able to think, you might’ve been angry. If you’d been able to do anything, you might’ve pulled your notebook away from him and made sure he couldn’t taint any part of you he hadn’t already ruined, but you couldn’t so much as imagine opening your eyes, much less trying to get away from him, again. “It’s cute. If you’re good, I’ll get you a real sketchbook – better than this cheap shit.”

It shouldn’t have felt as patronizing as it was. It shouldn’t have stung, just to know he was looking at something you’d never thought to keep away from him. It shouldn’t have hurt any more than anything he was already doing to you, and yet, you shrunk into yourself, something in your chest withering and dying off as he continued to flip through your notebook, to split you open on his fingers. A third digit was added, his touch now deep enough for you to feel the chill of his rings against your entrance. There was a pang of tension, a slight pain to accompany the stretch, but the buzzing in the back of your mind, the knot pulling tighter and tighter as he pulled his way deeper into you. You curled around him, something hot and piercing rising up from your core, creeping into your veins until—

Until Kunikuzushi pulled away without warning, only pausing momentarily to drag his hand over your thigh and smear your own slick across your skin. If you hadn’t known him so well, if you hadn’t been with him so long, relief might’ve softened your confusion, but you weren’t naïve enough to think that he’d suddenly found a pocket of kindness in his cold, stony heart. He didn’t try to tease you, either, to string you along and make you think that he’d let you go with an anti-climax and a few probing comments. He was cruel, but he didn’t like to waste his time. He didn’t have to pretend he didn’t want to play with his favorite toy.

With a small smile and a darkglint in his eye, he took your notebook and achinglyslowly, slid it off of the desk and watched passively as it toppled to the floor. Seconds after it landed, he sighed, shaking his head before pressing a fleeting kiss into the corner of your mouth. “You’re so clumsy, babe. I just don’t know what you’d do without me.”

Realization dawned on you like blood rising into the back of your throat. You hugged his arm closer to your chest, hoping beyond hope that he’d see your distress and for once, hold himself back from taking what he wanted. “Kuni, please don’t do—”

“Save it.” He didn’t even hesitate, tearing his arm out of your vice-grip without so much as a trace of strain. “You can thank me when we get home.”

You didn’t get another chance to protest before he dipped down, slipping out of his seat and below the desk. You spared a glance in either direction. You were in an aisle seat. Your row was mostly empty, and you could only hope that the people sitting behind you couldn’t see Kunikuzushi between your legs, his mouth already pressed into the inside of your thigh. Without someone to hold onto, you were left to cross your arms over your chest and try to school your own expression, to look like you hadn’t just had your orgasm torn away from you, like your ex-turned-overly-attached boyfriend wasn’t on his knees with his face buried between your legs. It was a small comfort, knowing he couldn’t do anything worse than this, not unless he wanted to bend you over the teacher’s desk and fuck you with an audience.

It was terrifying, knowing he couldn’t possibly do anything worse than this.

Your breath hitched as you felt his fingers curl underneath your shorts, dragging the flimsy material down your legs and letting it pool around your ankles. You were wearing an oversized shirt, and your jacket was long enough to obscure everything above your mid-thigh, but you still shuddered, still had to fight the temptation to snap your thighs shut as soon as you felt the cool air against your slick cunt. Kunikuzushi was quick to block that out, too. You felt the flat of his tongue lap over your entrance, a soundless moan reverberating against your pussy and up the length of your spine. This time, when you bit down on the inside of your cheek, you didn’t stop until you tasted blood.

Now, now, he decided to draw out your agony. You could feel his searing breath against your pussy as he chewed bruises into your thighs, painting love bites across your vulnerable skin that you could only hope wouldn’t be visible when you were finally able to shamble out of this lecture hall as a mangled, fucked-out wreck. When your legs twitched, his hands found their way to your ankles, pinning your feet to the ground as he latched onto your clit, dragging his tongue in loose, careless patterns as he sucked gently – giving you enough stimulation to leave you irritated and antsy but still withholding any anything real, anything satisfying. If you’d been in his bed, or on his kitchen counter, or laid across the backseat of the car he barely knew how to drive, you could’ve hidden your face in his sheets or clawed at his shoulders or screamed bloody murderer while he sucked and licked himself into a pussy-drunk stupor. You were never overly vocal – you couldn’t be, when you knew Kunikuzushi would take and abuse anything you said under the influence of his harsh affection– but now, you couldn’t afford to so much as tear-up, to rake your fingers through his hair, to whimper as his tongue thrust into you, just as awful as his fingers and twice as hot. You made the mistake of glancing towards him, of letting him catch your eye as a wide, arrogant smirk spread across his parted lips, a dark flush now painted across his pale cheeks. You looked away as quickly as you could, but it didn’t matter. His hands came up to your knees as he dragged your legs apart, giving himself more space to work between them. That had to be the worst thing about Kunikuzushi. No matter what you did, no matter how little you gave him, he’d always find a way to get off on it, to convince himself it was just your little way of retuning his fucked-up love.

Desperate for something to latch onto, you crossed your arms over the desktop and clawed at the polished wood. The bridge of Kunikuzushi’s nose ground against your clit and you buckled into yourself, burying your face in your arms and forgetting for just a fraction of a second to care whether or not you’d ever be able to show your face in public again. It took long, agonizing seconds to find the strength to raise your head, to frantically glance around the lecture hall for something, anything that would help you block out what he was doing to your body. Rather than a saving grace, you found a head of bright, ginger hair a few rows in front of you, the chair next to its owner vacant. Ajax, already staring over his shoulder, his piercing eyes wide and his expression blank with horror. As your gaze met his, as Kunikuzushi let out another throaty moan, the pressure mounted, that string of tension in your core snapping before you could attempt to hold yourself together. With your teeth grit and tears streaming down your cheeks, you came undone on Kunikuzushi’s tongue, a breathless whine forcing its way out of your throat as you collapsed back into your arms, completely limp.

Kunikuzushi nursed you through it, taking long moments to untangle himself from you, to press another kiss against your thigh, to pull your shorts back into place. You didn’t care. You were numb, your body humming with an awful sort of static, only interrupted by the weight of Kunikuzushi’s hand against the small of your back as he hauled himself back into his seat, pulling his sleeve across his mouth. Your notebook was still at your feet, splayed open and abandoned. You couldn’t seem to bring yourself to pick it up.

There was a kiss to your shoulder, then the top of your head. “Is it time to get out of here?”

You forced yourself to nod. You felt his arms wrap around you, one stringing under your knees and the other bracing against your back, keeping you pressed into his chest as he side-stepped back into the aisle and started for the door. A few students turned their heads, a couple stopping to ask if you were alright, but Kunikuzushi ignored them. Whatever. It wasn’t like you’d ever see any of these people again.

Kunikuzushi was taking you home, and as far as he seemed concerned, you’d never be leaving again.

[klausysworld]

Heyy I love your work I was wondering if you could do a klaus one we’re the reader is a bit chubby and all of a sudden she started wearing long sleeve and oversized stuff and nobody rlly noticed until they had a party or smth and she wears a dress and when they see here there all rlly shocked cause they didn’t notice how she a lot or weight in like a span of 2-4 weeks and she hasn’t eaten for like 2 days before the party

This one-shot will contain triggering content around eating disorders including both anorexia and bulimia. Please don’t read this is you feel it may upset you or harm you mental health. I’ve had personal issues around this area and know it can be hard. Don’t hesitate to reach out 🤍

Too much or Not enough?

Y/n had struggled with weight as a child, and as a teenager. As a result she had a difficult relationship with food and clothes.

She was naturally a little curvier, but what some people saw as gorgeous another saw as an opportunity to poke fun. And so she grew up hating herself and those around her who would highlight her insecurities.

As she grew out of adolescence and into adulthood she lost a little weight. She went to the gym excessively and ate barely anything. It was unhealthy but in her eyes it was her best option.

She still had her curves but they were complimented more than they were judged but even when people said ‘good’ things about her body, she just saw it at mocking. She would have kept losing the weight but she ended up passing out at the gym and having the paramedics called. They told her she needed to keep a balanced diet and take care of herself and as much as she didn’t want to, the fear of being that embarrassed again haunted her.

So she ate some what regularly for a while but ended up with two fingers down her throat to get it all back out.

She would have carried on that way if it weren’t for the Mikaelsons.

She had ended up being wrapped into the supernatural world and suddenly there were so many other problems in her life that food was almost forgotten.

Between a temperamental pregnant Hayley, overly dramatic Rebekah, pissed off Elijah, furious Marcel, war raging Klaus, power-hungry witches, territorial werewolves and bloodthirsty vampires, Y/n didn’t have much time to focus on herself. Especially not after Hope was born.

The stress seemed to make her hungrier, she would go days without any food and then eating as much as she could to ‘keep herself going’.

She didn’t really realise she had put her weight back on, she assumed running around after everyone would have been enough exercise.

And when Klaus had shown interest in her, when he had kissed her and laid her heart out on his sleeve well she assumed she must have looked good. Someone like him wouldn’t go for who she used to be, right?

And so she gained a small amount of confidence until the supernatural communities began to calm down and it seemed people were more attentive.

Y/n was able to go out more, whether it was with Hayley, Rebekah, Davina or just by herself. And that’s how it circled back.

One or two comments on her figure from men made her wear baggier clothes. An awkward moment with Hayley and Rebekah when the girls went shopping and Rebekah unintentionally made a quip on y/n’s size. Apparently a dress that looked good on Hayley wouldn’t be nice on ‘someone like Y/n’. She had brushed it off and told Rebekah it was fine when the blonde began apologising but inside it was anything but fine.

Even if she hadn’t had any malicious intent or meant it in any offence, it tore up old wounds and brought back something much deeper rooted.

And then when things started to kick off again and Klaus payed y/n less and less attention or affection, she assumed it was because she was no longer attractive to him. Had she gained that much?

So she did what she knew would work.

She forced herself to the gym as often as she could for as long as she could. Drank as much water that was available to her and ate the bare minimum to keep her conscious. Throw up anyway meal that she did happen to consume and have a packet of gum handy incase she got too hungry.

It was even easier to do once Hope was around more, Y/n was often asked to look after the baby while the rest of them took on the new foes and unexpected family members.

When Klaus, Elijah and Marcel had announced there would be a party to celebrate the defeat of a common enemy, Y/n began to worry. The last time she had to dress of for one of those things she was much bigger than she had thought. Looking back on pictures of that evening persuaded her to gag and cough up to the point where she was only throwing up water and blood form how she had torn her throat inside.

Even Hope could sense the change in Y/n’s behaviour when she looked after her. But nobody else did, everyone was too busy to realise.

Klaus had barely looked at her let alone touched her to realise that she had done down 2 clothing sizes and yet was wearing t-shirts triple the size they would need to be. None of the girls payed enough attention to see the bags under Y/n’s eyes or to notice her absence each morning when she would struggle on a treadmill for hours on end. Only Hope, someone who wasn’t even a year old, would give Y/n the hug she so desperately needed.

———————————————————————

It was the day do the party, Y/n stared aimlessly at the dress she had chosen the week before. If she were honest she planned on not going at all, nobody would notice anyway. But then Rebekah came in all bubbly demanding that she know what colours people were wearing she they didn’t clash in photos.

Photos.

Y/n learned to despise them. “The camera adds 10 pounds” she was told by her mother when she was young and it was something she reminded herself every time a flash went off.

So she needed to make sure she looked okay.

She scrubbed her skin raw in the shower, shaved every last hair from her legs before moisturising them and the rest of her body. She avoided any full body length mirrors and focused on her face, covering every flaw possible. Her hair was pulled to be half up half down, leaving pieces to frame her face and still give her enough volume.

She managed to get the dress on that was now a little loose on her, which she should have been worried about but she couldn’t help but feel relieved. The zip went up effortlessly but even so, she didn’t want to step outside of that door. So she stayed on the edge of her bed, her nails licking at the material of her dress as she hoped the night would pass by without her.

She had no such luck when Hayley came knocking on the door

“Y/n? Are you okay? The party started a while ago” she called through the wall and Y/n pinched her own skin desperately

“I don’t think I’m gonna come down…I’ll just keep an eye on Hope” she replied

“Hope’s dressed up and downstairs with Klaus at the moment, you don’t need to watch her, come have fun!” She told her brightly and Y/n could feel herself getting hotter as the nerves poured in

“Parties aren’t really my scene” she responded softly “maybe next time okay?” She tried again but Hayley was getting persistent

“Oh come on, there’s music, drinks, food. Have you eaten yet? Come on we’ll go get something” she encouraged but that only made it worse. Y/n had made sure not to eat anything the last 2 days so that there was zero chance of any bloating and she wasn’t about to ruin that.

“I ate earlier” she lied and Hayley sighed

“Try make an appearance? If not for me then for Rebekah or Klaus” she asked and Y/n could have scoffed. As if either of them had cared less that she was there.

Well so she assumed.

Unfortunately for her she was proven wrong again when the door hand was twisted and pulled, a frustrated groan coming from the other side of the door when they realised it was locked

“Y/n?” Klaus questioned “come out” he ordered and she had the sudden urged to suffocate herself with a pillow.

“I’m going to sleep” she mumbled, though she was still dolled up and sat against the headboard but it wasn’t like he could see her.

“We can fix that, open the door and I’ll grab you a dress” he told her and she pinched the bridge of her nose

“I already have a dress” she muttered in defeat, Klaus wouldn’t walk away as easily as Hayley.

“Perfect. Put it on.” He grumbled “Rebekah needs you in the photo” he added and she nodded, of course they needed to keep their image up.

“I don’t want to be in the photo anyway” she murmured and he groaned

“Just do it” he complained and she reluctantly stood up.

She plodded her way to look in the mirror and yet despite the makeup on her face, she just looked tired. It didn’t matter anymore though, she looked bad in pictures either way, may as-well know it this time.

Just as Klaus was reader to break the handle off the door, it was clicked open and Y/n was looking up at him through glassy eyes.

Klaus’s expression dropped almost instantly when he looked at her. The dress was loose around her body in all areas, her arms thinner than usual making him frown and reach a hand out to grab ahold of her wrist. His eyes locked on hers and his lips parted in shock.

She assumed he was thinking she looked awful, was the dress too small again? Was she too big? She could feel her face heating and her eyes filling with tears. Her breathing grew more laboured and her hands began to ping at the fabric around her to make it seem baggier.

Klaus quickly pulled her into his room so nobody could look up the stairs and see them. He stroked her hair gently as he wrapped his arms around her in an attempt to stop any tears from falling.

“Sweetheart” he whispered quietly, guilt beginning to rise in him. People didn’t loose this much weight this fast. He knew he had been distant the last month but that was to keep her safe not to make her sick, was she I’ll and not told anybody? Or was this something much more?

He feared for the last one as he rubbed her back soothingly while small sniffs lift her and panicked apologies flooded form her lips.

“Why are you sorry my love?” He murmured gently.

“I just wanted to be pretty” she uttered and his heart ached for her. “I tried really hard” she whispered “it wasn’t enough”

“Y/n…” he murmured as his arms held her a little tighter “you’re always pretty, you’re beautiful and bright” he told her “don’t change anything about yourself for anyone else ever”

“I did it for me too” she mumbled and he nodded hesitantly

“Yeah but…this isn’t the way” he whispered and she sniffed

“It’s the only way that works” she argued

“Love, what have you been eating?” He asks and she frowns

“Why does that matter?”

“Because there’s a difference between eating healthily and not eating enough” he told her and she began to grow more upset at his tone

“I eat too much” she utters and he sighs, he placed both hands on her shoulders and looks down at her

“Nobody thinks that” he whispered, his eyes locked on hers as though it would make her listen better. “Not eating at all is as bad as eating too much, we can find a good balance” he persuaded

“I’ve tried balanced diets, it doesn’t work” she shakes her head frustrated

“I’ll find you a better one” he decided and she lets out a laugh

“Why because I suddenly matter enough? If you only just realised that I’ve lost the weight when we live in the same home then Im clearly not worth-“

“Stop” he whispered, a crack in his tone “do not do this to me and do not do this to yourself” he let out a breath “I wouldn’t ever want this to happen to you, I care about you. I was just leaving you out of all the darkness and the pain, you weren’t supposed to bring it to yourself” he snapped. His eyes were hard though he didn’t mean to appear so angry as tears freely flowed down Y/n’s face and a sob let her lips.

At the sound of her cries, Klaus’s bedroom door was opened rather suddenly. A concerned Elijah stepped inside, his eyes falling to Y/n and his brows furrowing as he noticed his brother trying to apologise. Then he noticed the differences from the last few times he had seen her and he picked up on what was happening pretty quickly.

He closed the door behind him and came forward, coaxing Y/n out of Klaus’s arms and into his own.

“Would you like a smoothie my dear? We’ve stocked the kitchen with fruits recently” Elijah murmured softly, his chin on top her head as he glanced to an upset Niklaus. Y/n frowned in confusion at the offer and at the calming affect Elijah seemed to have over everyone. He wasn’t really the hugging type but it was nice to experience one. She didn’t reply but he kept talking “how about I go and get you a smoothie while Niklaus helps you out of this dress? I’m sure you can wear one of his shirts for bed hm?” He lifted her chin up to look down at her. She blinked at him unsure as he tried to convince her further “I’ll bring Hope up as well?” He offered and she nodded slowly.

Elijah gave a look to Klaus and both brothers began to move. Elijah rushed off downstairs and Klaus grabbed one of his henleys. Y/n kept her eyes on the ground as Klaus’s fingers gently undid the dress

“I’m sorry my love” he whispered as he let the material drop down to the floor making goosebumps arise across her skin. His lips pressed to her shoulder softly before the warmth of his top was pulled over her head and her arms were pulled into the sleeves. His arms slid round her waist gently and his nose buried into her hair.

She kept quiet, eyes down as he unclipped her curls and let it all fall loosely around her face. Soft kisses planted their way up her face as Elijah returned with a smoothie and a straw.

Both brothers guided her to sit up on Klaus’s bed before sitting either side of her. Gently she was pulled into Klaus’s lap and the straw was brought to her lips

“The cup is only half full, the rest of it is in the fridge for tomorrow if you should want more” Elijah tells her with a reassuring smile

Klaus brushed his hands along her sides gently as she reluctantly drank what she was given. Both brothers continued to speak of random topics to keep the attention off of her as she took small sips as slowly leant back against Klaus’s chest.

15 minutes later Hayley came by and dropped Hope off, both she and Elijah left, leaving Klaus, Y/n and Hope to snuggle up together with the silent promise that at least Klaus and Elijah and most likely the rest of the Mikaelsons would be helping Y/n find a happier,healthier state of mind and body.

(I hope this was what was wanted, I didn’t go too deep into the topic and still wanted it to have a relatively happier/promising ending. If a darker message or ending was wanted then I would be okay with trying to write something similar for anyone out there. I understand the struggles with eating disorders and also with self harm and just mental health in general so feel free to message or request, anything at all :))

[featherandferns]

hurricanes (fic)

jj maybank x fem!reader | angst central

content warning: mentions of drinking and drug use; mentions of sex; arguments and fights; unhealthy relationship

word count: 7k.

blurb: for so many of your memories, bad and good, it feels as if hurricanes are at the forefront. One night, during the midst of a storm, JJ comes to your house, seemingly to bring you one last memory of him.

You hate hurricanes.

They’re unruly and unpredictable; thrashing and destroying anything in their path. Chaos incarnated.

From inside your house, the windows rattle from a vicious blow of wind. Sighing, you leave the comfort of your bedroom to go to the kitchen. There’s no chance you’re getting to sleep anyway. Better brew a pot of coffee and maybe get some homework done throughout the night. As you stand over the machine, waiting for it to brew, you look out the window. It’s dark. Rain is splattered across the glass, droplets chasing after one another in an undisclosed race. You manage to make out your reflection. Bags under your eyes. Clothes hanging sadly on your body. Only recently had you managed to start eating well again, putting on weight and getting through more than one meal a day. So, knowing the effort that you’ve been making, you manage a smile.

The t-shirt you’re wearing is one of your favourites. It holds memories: the fit of laugher that had you in tears one night at a bonfire; the day you got your first A on an exam; a date with JJ. Your finger comes to tease at the collar, fingering the fabric, your smile growing from the memories. It felt nice to finally reminisce about your ex-boyfriend without wanting to crumble. Without the thought feeling like someone was twisting the knife that had yet to be eased out of your chest.

The coffee machine stops buzzing. You look down, coming back to yourself, and pour yourself a cup of coffee from the glass mug. Moving to sit on the sitting room sofa, reaching for the remote, you decide to try and distract yourself with a show. Your parents aren’t home and brother’s at college, granting an empty, quiet house. As you flick through the options on Netflix, you hesitate on one. Narcos. JJ loved that series. Had you watch some of the episodes with him – explaining the characters’ motives and filling in the plot-points from whatever you’d missed. A part of you deliberates watching it and letting yourself slip into some fantasy that JJ is sat by your side on the sofa, his hand comfortably on your knee, eyes glued to the screen. But you don’t. There’re new shows to watch, so why go back on the old? Settling on some Netflix-own drama, you sigh and have a sip of your coffee.

“No way, John B actually thinks he’s found the Royal Merchant,” you snort.

JJ shrugs. “That’s what he says.”

“Where?”

“At the bottom of the ocean,” JJ replies.

“No doy, idiot. I mean where abouts at the bottom of the ocean?” You chuckle, rolling your eyes.

“Oh! Somewhere off the continental drift,” JJ tells you.

He’s opened a bottle of beer for you and is passing it over. The two of you are lounging on your dad’s fishing boat, taking advantage of the nice weather.

“Bullshit,” you say, taking a swig.

“I’m telling you; he’s found it. The stuff in that motel room safe was fucking insane. The cops just pocketing the cash, too?”

“Cops are dirty: shock horror,” you sarcastically return.

JJ laughs with a nod. Then, smiling at you, he says, "well, all I know is when we find the Merchant-”

“-If-”

“When!” he corrects loudly, making you laugh. Then he’s shuffling up so he’s sat right next to you, hooking an arm comfortably around your waist. “When we find it, I’m using my share of gold to spoil my girl rotten.”

“Oh?” You prompt, raising a brow at him with a grin. He nods down at you.

“Mhm. I’m talking fancy dinners and expensive jewellery and that perfume you always check out whenever we’re at the mall but never buy.”

“It’s overpriced,” you brush off, rolling your eyes.

“It’d smell perfect on you,” JJ affirms. Makes your cheeks go warm.

Nudging him with your elbow, the bone digging softly into the flesh of his abs, you say, “well, I guess I could get on board with that then.”

“Just you wait until we find it,” JJ promises, raising his bottle in a silent toast.

Rolling your eyes lovingly at his ways, you lift yours to clink the neck of your bottle against his. JJ leans down to capture your lips in a kiss, sweet and summer-filled, with the lingering taste of beer. You gladly kiss him back, sinking into the familiar feel of your boyfriend. This is going to be the best summer yet.

About ten minutes into the second episode, you think you hear a knock at the door. No; it’ll be a branch having blown away in the breeze. Sighing, you go back to the show, coffee nearly finished and luke-warm. Then, it comes again. Two short raps. Pausing the show, you turn and frown at the door. You can see it from the sofa. There’s a pause, maybe a minute, and then three knocks. You get up and make your way to the door, deliberating who in the hell could be coming to your house in the middle of a hurricane at (you glance to the clock on the hallway as you go) ten to midnight?

As you undo the latch on the door and twist the key to unlock it, you feel your gut twist. It’s as if it knows something you don’t. Then, pulling the door open, wincing against the cold and the wind and the rain from outside as it fights its way in, you come face to face with JJ. The sight of him makes you colder than the weather ever could.

“JJ?”

“Can I come in?”

“Wh—”

Your voice trials off, throat running dry, and you glance back into the house for some reason, as if the coat-stand might have the answers. Looking back to him, brain muddled, you see how he’s leaning against the wall of the entryway. How he’s holding his flask in his hand, the lid unscrewed, and you close your eyes with a sigh.

The rational part of you screams to close the door on him. Do the right thing, the hard thing, and turn him away as if you have barely acknowledged him being there. But it’s not that simple. Nothing is, the moment any sort of feeling has been involved, and you find yourself looking into his red-rimmed eyes. You’re not sure if he’s high or he’s been crying.

“Please,” he says, voice quiet as if defeated. “I just wanna talk.”

He’s dripping from head to toe, drenched from the rain. Hair sticking to his forehead, leaking water down the back of his neck. Hands shaking from the cold and the booze. Wordlessly, you open the door fully and step to the side, making space for him to walk in. After he catches on and enters, you catch a whiff of his cologne. Musky yet fresh; so wonderfully him. It makes one of the scabbed cuts on your heart crack open. Closing the door, fighting to keep in the warmth, you sigh and face JJ. He’s standing there awkwardly, unsure of where you want him to go. He’s barely able to keep his balance right, fumbling from leaning his weight on one leg to the other.

You gesture to the kitchen. “Go sit down. I’m gonna grab you a towel.”

JJ nods and does as you say, heading into the kitchen. You try not to spiral in your thoughts as you go to the boiler closet, fishing out a fresh bath towel. There’s only one thought that you can’t seem to silence. What is he doing here?

A part of you still feels as though you can hear the wind of the storm beating against the thin walls of the police tent. The sirens and the chatter and the panic. The chaos of trying to help John B and Sarah escape, and the never-ending torture of waiting for any news. That they escaped. That they were caught. That they were even alive.

That was a week ago now.

JJ’s not answering his phone. You haven’t been sleeping well. Your nights are nothing but restless, nightmares plaguing you about all the ‘what ifs’ and the guilt of waving them off in the boat, practically sending them off to their grave. It’s a lot for a seventeen-year-old to burden. Your parents tried their best to help you. They brought you breakfast the first morning that you stayed back at your house (they’d let you crash at the Chateau with the others for a couple of days at first, understanding that all your friends needed one another at that time), and never forced you to come down for dinner. Wallowing felt about the best you could do. You just wished it wasn’t so lonely.

Sighing, ending the call that never stopped ringing, you glance over to your trainers. Since coming back from the Chateau, you haven’t left your house once. Hell, you’d barely left your bed. Then you’re staring at your phone again. At the string of missed calls and ignored texts from JJ. You knew him well and knew how easily he could slip when things changed for the worse. John B was like a brother to JJ. Their bond was so close that it sometimes challenged your own and JJ’s, though never in a malicious way.

Getting up, you put on your trainers and lace them up. You had to check that JJ’s okay.

The air feels fresh on your skin, like a plant gulping down water after days in a drought. You bask in the rays of sun that push through the cloudy overhead. Walking to JJ’s was familiar and quick. Soon enough, you’re trudging up his front lawn and walking around to his window. He’d always told you to come in via there. You never knew where his dad was and what state he might be in, but the odds were low on his being passed out in JJ’s room. The windows always unlocked and you force it up and open with a grunt. Then, you’re climbing on JJ’s desk and glancing around his room. He’s not in there.

What is in there is countless empty beer cans and bottles. The useless ends of joints and cigarettes. It smells musty and sad, like nobody had cracked a window in days. You sigh and kick some stuff out of the way (used clothing and trash) so you can reach his bedroom door. Gently easing it open, you glance into the hallway and through to the sitting room. On the coffee table, you can make out the toes of JJ’s boots. Taking your chances that his dad isn’t home, you walk down the hall to the sitting room.

JJ’s passed out on the sofa. His head is leant back, mouth parted in silent snores, and in his hand is an empty beer bottle. The sitting room is just as bad as his bedroom, maybe even worse. It stinks of weed and alcohol and mould. Everything about all of it terrifies you. You didn’t think he’d sunk this low, so fast. Why hadn’t he reached out to you?

He gets an email and his phone pings, making you glance to it. It’s on the coffee table. There on the home screen are the several missed call notifications and ignored texts from you. If it were any other situation, you’d label yourself as psycho. But you knew something was wrong. Could feel it in your gut.

“JJ,” you say. Clearing your throat, louder, you repeat, “JJ.”

He doesn’t stir.

You reach out a hand to shake his boot.

“JJ, wake up.”

Nothing.

Sighing, you walk around so you’re stood at his side and lean down to shake his shoulders gently, hoping to ease him awake.

“Wake up, JJ.”

He jolts awake with a gasp, eyes flying open. His hands come to your forearms in a tight grip, reflexively, and you try to pull away. The moment he registers it’s you, he let’s go. He mumbles your name, voice still thick with sleep.

“What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to check on you.”

JJ frowns. He rubs at his face and pushes some of his uncombed hair back. His breath smells like stale liquor; it half makes you want to cringe.

“Why?”

“Because I’m worried about you. And, I guess I was right,” you say, looking to the pandemonium of the room.

JJ gets to his feet and shakes his head. He’s walking towards the kitchen and you follow.

“You didn’t need to, alright? I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, JJ,” you tell him.

He pulls open the fridge. His back is to you. The shirt he wears looks creased and well-worn, as if he hadn’t taken it off for days. It reminds you of everything that happened and just how raw the wounds must be for JJ. How much deeper they are, too. 

“Look, I know this is hard for you,” you tell him gently.

JJ grabs a beer and closes the fridge. Cracking open the can, he turns and rests his back against it, taking a swig. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not ‘fine’, JJ,” you say.

JJ shrugs and has another gulp.

“Why didn’t you talk to me?” you ask. Gesturing to him, you add, “you look like you haven’t slept in days, JJ.”

“What’re you gonna do? Sing me to sleep?” he snorts. He’s drunk.

“That’s not the point, JayJ. My parents would’ve let you stay over. I don’t like the thought of you here by yourself.”

“I’m not something that needs fixing, alright? I can take care of myself,” JJ tells you, his voice becoming tighter.

“I’m not saying you need fixing—”

“Are you sure? Cause it sounds like you’re pitying me pretty bad right now,” JJ cuts in. His eyes are narrowed at you as if accusing you of some conspiracy.

Trying to remind yourself of the abundance of emotions he must be feeling right now, alongside the fact that he’s drunk and possibly high, you do your best to keep your calm.

“Of course I’m pitying you, JJ. In the way that a girlfriend would pity her boyfriend who’s dealing with some fucking awful loss,” you tell him.

“He’s not dead, alright? Don’t talk about him like he is,” JJ bitterly mumbles, looking down at his boots.

“We don’t know that, JJ—”

“Well, you don’t know that he is dead, alright? So stop talking about it like you want it to be true!” he explodes. He stalks towards you, angry. “Do you want him to be dead, huh? So you have a little project to work on? So you can come visit your scum of a boyfriend and do your charity work, to make yourself feel better. To distract you from your own shitty insecurities?”

“Why are you saying this, JJ?” you whisper, taken aback. He’s never spoken to you like this. Ever. Not even when the two of you argue. In truth, you don’t argue. Merely bicker, with it all resolved within the day. Nothing malicious and intentional, with words sharpened to cut. The way he’s looking at you right now – as he stands over you, shoulders rigid as if preparing for a scrap – is terrifyingly unfamiliar.

“I don’t want you here, okay? I didn’t ask for you to come here.”

“You want me to leave then?”

“Yeah, I do, actually.”

“You do?”

“Yes. That’s what I fucking said,” JJ seethes. You find yourself pushing back, getting in his face just as much.

“Fine. Drink yourself fucking blind for all I care,” you spit back.

It’s only been a week, and already a chip has been chiselled into the sculpture that was your relationship. The first crack in the mausoleum.

JJ’s sat at the round kitchen table, shivering like an orphan, and you have to keep yourself from instinctively wrapping the towel around his shoulders. Instead, you place it in front of him. He’s put the flask away, it seems.

“Thanks,” JJ mumbles, taking it.

As he rubs his hair dry, you head to the coffee machine. He needs to sober up and you’d found that coffee always worked for him. Hell, you could do with another cup too, perhaps just to keep your hands busy.

“It’s crazy out there,” JJ eventually says, hesitant to start a conversation. You close your eyes at the sound of his voice. “Brian’s throwing a tantrum.”

You’re half-tuned in, mostly lost in the droning of the coffee machine as it brews. You look down at your hands to find that you’ve been messing with the skin around your nails. It was a nervous habit you had, and one that hadn’t shone through in a couple of months. Not since you and JJ had ended things.

The coffee is done all too soon. Pouring two mugs worth, you brace yourself as if preparing for a slap as you turn to face JJ at the table. His hair is now damp, no longer dripping down his face. Wet clothes are still stuck to his skin, outlining the perfection of his body, and you have to force your eyes away. It’s hard to think that only two months ago you would be blessed enough to be able to run your hands under his shirt, along the smooth, salt-scrubbed skin of his stomach. What once brought you pleasure in thought now only brought pain.

Taking the seat opposite him, you slide his mug over and take a shaking sip of your own. Your eyes are down, focused on the table-top, tracing the scratch marks in the wood, but you somehow know JJ’s watching you. Can feel his eyes following you.

“Thanks for letting me in.”

“You said you wanted to talk,” you reply.

JJ nods: you catch it in your peripheral. “I do.”

“What’s there to talk about?”

“Us,” JJ says. You close your eyes. You were worried he’d say that.

“There’s nothing for us to talk about, JJ. There isn’t an ‘us’, anymore, okay?” you sigh. JJ’s already shaking his head.

“There is. You know there is,” he returns in a pleading tone. “Things can go back to how they were again.”

“What?” you almost whisper, brows furrowing in confusion.

“John B and Sarah are back now and…And everything can go back to how it was,” JJ tells you, almost hopeful.

You shake your head, lips pressed in a deep frown. Your fingers press against the hot porcelain of the mug.

“JJ. That’s not how this works.”

“I know things got messed up. That it’s my fault that they did, alright? That everything got messed up after John B…”

Died.

Your eyes dart up to meet his. There’re fresh tears gathering in the waterline. It’s weird seeing JJ cry so openly. He only did it once or twice in your relationship, in front of you. He never seemed willing to let you see that side of him, as if it might make him weak. You notice how his hand twitches away from the mug, as if he might reach out for yours, but something in him decides not to. Instead, the two of you keep your distance; a formal width of space, sat on either side of the table, not daring to cross into the others’.

“We can go back to how we were,” JJ privately says.

Your purse your lips, eyes slipping shut a moment to gather your thoughts. Perhaps this is how Eve felt, when the serpent tried to tempt her with the fruit. Here sits the only guy you’ve ever loved, extending an invitation back into the past, of a time when you were happy, and breathing didn’t hurt, and the thought of romance wasn’t something you shunned. But you can’t go back to the past. Time is forever moving forward, continuous and unchanging, and the sooner you make peace with that, the sooner it can start to heal your wounds.

You never spoke about that first fight. Never acknowledged it, really. JJ just showed up at your house, a couple days later, seemingly sober, and you both decided to move forward. You brushed it under the rug as a slip-up. That he needed to reel out of control a little in order to let himself recover, like the way the earth needs a good thunderstorm during summer to replenish the plants. I mean, how were you to know that it was the beginning of the end?

It was the day after you'd made the memorial at the chateau. Yourself and JJ had slept over at the house, after making love on the pull-out. The moment his hands were on your body, it felt like a silent apology for the fight, and you'd let yourself forget all about it. Waking up tangled in his hold, legs a knotted mess and arm tingling with pins-and-needles from his weight, you can't help but smile. It was the nearest thing to normalcy you'd felt in a long time, since Sarah and John B went missing at sea.

"Morning," you mumble sleepily the moment you feel JJ stir. He presses a kiss to your forehead. His skin smells of dry sweat.

"Hey," JJ rasps.

"You want breakfast?"

"What's on the menu?"

You can hear the smirk in his voice, the teasing grin to his words, and it makes you chuckle tiredly. This was the JJ you missed. As one of his hands moves to grope at your ass, you're laughing, gently pushing him off you.

"Perv," you mutter as you get up. Steal his t-shirt from the floor and pull it on.

You trudge to the kitchen, shoving your messed up hair out of your face, and open the cupboards to search for something good. There's no point looking in the fridge; majority of the things in there will be spoiled. This is the first time any of you have been back at the chateau since a couple of days after the incident.

Grabbing a can of soup, you decide it's better than nothing (though far from a classic breakfast). The drawers and counters are a mess. You sigh as you search for a can opener, coming up empty.

"You got your pocket knife with you?" you ask JJ.

He's lounging on the pull-out, scrolling through his phone. The only thing keeping him decent is the blanket that's half-arsedly flung over his waist. You missed seeing him like this, and the sight has you smiling.

"Should be in the left pocket of my shorts," he mumbles in reply, absentmindedly.

You wander over and drop to a squat, digging through his cargo shorts. Nothing, nothing...Your fingers feel something plastic and tactile. Frowning, you pull it out. It's a small plastic baggy containing a white powder. You're not stupid. It's either coke or ketamine. Your frown seems to deepen. Standing up, you hold it up.

"What's this?"

JJ looks up. Spots the bag. Takes in your expression. "Nothing."

"JJ," you say, tone nothing short of serious.

He sighs and rubs at his face, as if finding an excuse to avoid eye contact. "Look, it's fine, alright? I just need a little pick me up, now and then."

"This isn't a pick-me-up, JJ," you say. You know you sound angry, but why shouldn't you be? JJ having an addictive personality was no secret to anyone. His drinking was bad enough. Adding drugs like cocaine to the mix, and your worry trebled.

“What? Are you telling me what I can and can’t do now?” JJ asks. His voice borders on a scoff.

“This is dangerous, JJ.”

“I’m scared straight, hun. Thanks,” he mutters. Leaning forward, he snatches the baggy from you.

“I don’t like the thought of you taking that stuff, JayJ. It’s a slippery slope,” you slowly reply, trying to level your temper.

JJ sighs impatiently, rolling his eyes. It doesn’t help calm the storm brewing inside of you.

“Why’d you always have to ruin everything, huh?”

“Excuse me?”

“Things were finally starting to go back to normal and you have to fucking fixate on another thing. I swear to God, I never do anything right by you. I mean, I’d just gotten over you losing your shit at me the other day—”

“Gotten over it? I’m sorry, let me just check I’m hearing this right?” you interrupt, shifting your weight. “You got over the fact that your girlfriend had to track you down in person to check you were okay, to find you drunk and passed out? Then you yell at me for coming and tell me to leave, several times. And you remember me being the villain in all of that?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. You didn’t do some fucking FBI work to find me; I was in my own Goddamn house.”

“Not the point, JJ,” you loudly counter.

JJ rolls his eyes at you and moves to stand, pulling on a pair of boxers. “You’re such a bitch sometimes, you know that?”

You stare at him. Did you just hear him right? Before you can ask or even respond, JJ’s walking out onto the porch as if you’re not in the midst of an argument.

You watch as he grabs a leftover vape that’s laying on the window ledge. There still seems to be some power left in it. He takes a couple of hits. You simply stare after him. It seems useless to follow. Useless to keep chipping away at this fight that you’re bound to lose. So, instead, you turn back to the kitchen and let the distance between the two of you gape. Another argument unresolved.

Opening your eyes again, meeting his that shimmer blue in the low light of your kitchen, you can’t bring yourself to do anything but frown, your expression the image of sympathy. 'We can go back to how we were.'

“We can’t, JJ,” you whisper.

“Who says we can’t?”

“I say we can’t,” you reply.

“You don’t understand,” JJ tells you, as if ignoring your words entirely. You’re shaking your head, staring down into your coffee, but it doesn’t seem to deter him from continuing. “I can’t picture my life without you in it. These past couple months have felt like there’s a lack there or something. Like something’s missing. And something is missing. You are. You’ve always been there for me, even before we were together. I don’t…I don’t know how I’m supposed to go on with my life without you in it.”

You’re crying now. Silent tears fall down your face. Muffled pain.

The touch of his hand on yours feels electric, but not in a good way. Not in the way it used to. It’s like the shock that it thrills inside of you, which once was excitement, is now merely pain. You half want to jolt your hand back, but that would be too dramatic. Too much.

“Please. Please,” JJ’s begging, crying too. “I just need you in my life.”

“I don’t understand how,” you tell him, voice wet. You meet his gaze again. It feels almost too painful to maintain it for too long. “I can’t be your friend again, JJ. And I definitely can’t be your girlfriend again. So how am I meant to be in your life?”

“You just can! You just have to be there! You have to be there for me!”

Your lip quivers.

He gathers himself, exhaling slowly. “You just…Have to.”

Have to. Like there wasn’t any other way. Like his planet doesn’t spin without you and his universe is empty of planets and stars. Like his world is void of life and you’re the water that can make his plants bloom again. But it doesn’t bring you joy like it would’ve months ago, to hear him say that. It’s too much, too late. Antique coins lose their value.

“I mean…Don’t you miss me?”

Your vision focuses on his tear-streaked face again. Hair still damp. Cheeks pink and nose red.

“Of course I miss you,” you whisper, half-insulted that he’d even ask that. Can’t he see how much this is tearing you apart? “I miss all of it.”

“You don’t have to though,” JJ says. “We can go back to how it was.”

You finally look back down to see his hand still atop of yours. Touch gentle and kind. He used to be kind to you, all the time. Never would raise his voice at you and would never make you cry. But after John B and Sarah vanished, their deaths presumed, it was like something in him snapped. It’s easier to destroy a sandcastle than to build it, and JJ seemed hellbent on destroying whatever bond the two of you had - the love the both of you shared - rather than trying to protect it.

Your relationship with JJ was delipidating. Like a temple built on an eroding cliff, what was once beautiful and serene is now crumbling away, brick by brick. Pope and Kiara and even a stranger in the Goddamn street can see how dysfunctional it is. What was once affection and care is now venom and pain. And yet, underneath all the animosity, there’s still a love that keeps the two of you in place, fighting for things to stay together. After every blowout, one of you ends up in tears and the other is ironically the only person who can comfort them. Then comes the kisses and the apologies and the make-up sex, and the promises to not fight again, and to do better, and to fix what you have. But it’s all a fiction. The next fight comes and it’s uglier still.

JJ seems almost unrecognisable to you most days. The drinking and the drugs and the recklessness is hideous. Brings a pain to your heart that can only be rivalled by the one that comes when you fight. Pope and Kiara don’t see it as much as you do. It’s like he tapers it down for them, only giving them a glimpse. But you’ve always had the honour of seeing every part of JJ, including this. When you beg for him to stop drinking, to try and get himself under control, he goes on the defence. JJ’s words shoot to kill when he’s mad. And it’s like the venom in his words brings out an ugly side of you, too. Infects you with his anger until you're lashing out. When you’re in blind fury, you don’t care what you say, so long as it’s painful. Words that you’d never think come flying out of your mouth. Things you’d never mean are said with nothing short of conviction. About him. About his dad. About him being like his dad. About John B too, sometimes. About it being JJ’s fault. But he doesn’t hold back either. About you. About you and your parents. About you and your exes. About you and John B too, sometimes. It’s ugly and painful and evil.

But it was always words. Sticks and stones, right? You can sooth any cut from a slander with an apology said through soft kisses and softer caresses. Overlay the memory of an insult with sweet-nothings and moans of affirmation. Only words. So, when the next inevitable fight comes with the two of you at his house, after JJ does something particularly stupid at a kegger after flirting with a girl right in front of you to make you jealous, all because you’d said something the other night, you prepare for the hurl of abuse.

“I was just fucking talking to her!” JJ shouts.

You scoff and roll your eyes. “You were practically drooling all over her.”

“Drooling!?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re fucking delusional, you know that?” he chuckles darkly.

“I’m delusional?”

“Yeah, you are.”

“Are you seriously calling your own girlfriend crazy, right now? Do you know how Goddamn sexist that is?” you snap.

JJ shakes his head and does that all-too-familiar walk to his kitchen. You follow as per. It’s like the two of you follow a script when you fight. Insult, jab, insult, jab, drink, jab, insult, cry, silence, drink, comfort, kiss, sex, apologies, promises, sleep. It’s tiresome and it’s pathetic but you don’t want to leave it, because if you do, then you have to face the alternative. You have to face having nothing. No arguments and no JJ. Somehow, arguing with JJ is better than not having him to talk to at all.

But with every fight comes the fading hope that this rough patch will pass, and you’ll be out of the woods, stronger than before.

“Don’t walk away from me, JJ!”

“Stop screaming at me like a psycho bitch!” he shouts back, slamming the fridge door shut. Beer bottle now in hand.

“Don’t call me a bitch, you asshole!” you scream. "Don't you dare drink that!"

JJ laughs at you. "God, it is adorable how you think I give a shit about anything you say to me."

"Oh, I'm so sorry that I actually give a shit about your health! Clearly you don't, snorting any fucking thing you can get your hands-on like some deadbeat junkie."

JJ isn't replying. Won't fight back. Drinking from his bottle like he can't even hear you. Makes you angrier. Say something, do something.

"Guess you're just living up to the family-traits though, huh? Like father like Goddamn son. No wonder your mom left you."

It takes you a moment to realise what made you stop shouting. What made your breath get caught halfway in your throat, heart thumping loudly in your ears. Then, your eyes are slowly drifting down to the floor, to the side of your feet.

Shards of the broken bottle are scattered on the floor. Beer drips down the wall, spills onto the floorboards, pools around the pieces of glass. The sound of shattering was so loud when it hit the wall. No wonder; it happened right by your ear. It was practically inches from your face.

The shock subsides enough to let tears come. You let out a shuddering breath as the reality hits that it could’ve hit you in the face. That could’ve been your face.

When your eyes come to focus again, moving to glance up into JJ’s, he looks just as shocked as you. Just as horrified.

“Baby…”

He starts towards you.

You hold up a hand, prompting him to stop, and take a wobbly step backwards.

“Don’t,” you rasp. You sound terrified. Half don't recognise your own voice.

That could’ve been your face.

“Baby, I didn’t mean to,” JJ whispers, his voice breaking. “I didn’t…I don’t know why I did that. I…”

Your eyes lower to the ground as your hand gradually falls limp by your side. You look to the glass and beer on the floor. How ironically poetic.

“What are we doing, JJ?”

“I don’t…I don’t know,” he hopelessly replies.

You shake your head. Eyes still fixated on the broken bottle. “I don’t…I don’t think this is love anymore, JJ.”

“Don’t say that,” JJ says.

“It can’t be,” you continue, ignorant to his pleas. JJ comes towards you once more and you shake your head, turning away from him before he can make a grab for your hands. “I can’t keep doing this.”

“I know,” he says.

His arms wrap around your waist. He hugs you against him, nestles his face in your hair, presses some kisses against your scalp. There’s the inconsistent drip of his tears.

“I’m sorry,” he’s mumbling into your hair. “I’m sorry. I won’t do that again. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to, okay? I’m so sorry, baby.”

But it’s too late, isn’t it?

Before it was words and that was torturous enough. It was painful when he’d say things to you that he knew would hurt, sure, but you’ve never been afraid of him before. But this, now…You can’t go back. You can’t ever go back from that. It’s with a terrifying thought and a fresh wave of tears that you come to the realisation that you’re scared of JJ. You’re scared of the only person who you’re supposed to find comfort and love in. How does that even happen to someone?

“I know you are,” you eventually say in reply to all his apologies.

JJ pauses, settling on pressing more kisses to your head, squeezing his arms around you tighter, closer, as if trying to stop you from slipping away. But a vase covered in cracks can’t hold water in. You push his arms off you and break yourself free from his hold.

“But I can’t do this anymore.”

He mumbles your name. When you don’t turn, heading to grab your jacket from the sofa, he says it again, loud and desperate. You know he’s crying. He’s sobbing. So are you.

“Please, please don't leave me.”

It hurts. It all just fucking hurts. You head for the door. Shake off his hand as it clasps around your wrist.

“Please, baby. We can make this right, okay? We can fix it. I can fix this. Just don't leave me.”

It’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do, walking out his door. In fact, you think a part of your soul dies a little as you do. Left haunting his house is the ghost of your past self that you’ll spend forever trying to find again.

You carefully inch your hand out of his touch and get up, walking to the sink, mug in hand. JJ’s sighing. You catch in the reflection of the window as he hangs his head, palms covering his face. Pouring the leftover coffee down the drain, you try and gather your thoughts and feelings. They all conclude into one.

“I think you should leave now, JJ,” you weakly announce.

Your eyes glance at the window's reflection in time to catch his head lift. Then, you’re looking back down into the sink. Remnants of coffee sit stagnant in the basin. More tears fall.

“What?”

“I really think you need to leave,” you repeat.

“Baby,” JJ says, getting up. He’s walking over to you and your heart sinks.

“Don’t call me that, JJ,” you tell him. But there’s no conviction in your tone. How can there be, when all you are is a crying, fragile mess.

“Baby, please,” he repeats, ignoring you once more. His arms are wrapping around your waist, hugging you against him. It's painful deja vu. You shake your hand and put down the coffee mug, moving to try and push his arms off you. It feels claustrophobic.

“Stop calling me that,” you whimper.

This all hurts so much. The knife is twisting and turning and driving deeper and deeper.

“I don’t want you to call me that anymore.”

“I don’t understand,” JJ says. “If we both miss each other then why can’t we just go back to how it was? I can make it up to you. I can be better, this time. I can get clean. I'll be sober for you. I'll do anything.”

Finally, you managed to break free from his hold. You turn around, placing an arm on his chest to maintain some distance. His hands are still open, as if waiting to catch you.

“That’s not that point, JJ,” you tell him.

“Then what is the point? Why is this so easy for you? I mean, did you ever love me at all? Why aren’t you as torn up about all of this like I am? Did you ever care?”

His tone is turning sour, just the way it used to during your fights. It all comes screaming back to you. The desperation and the battles and the pure exhaustion of trying to hold onto a handful of sand, that only will inevitably slip through your fingers. But it makes the emotions catch fire. Searing hot pain.

“Of course I did!” you burst, eyes wet and voice fire. JJ takes a small step back, startled. “Of course I loved you and of course I miss you! I miss all of it, okay? I miss the way we were and the way you used to look at me. I miss you when I go to sleep and I miss you when I wake up. But I can’t have you in my life anymore, JJ. All the shit that happened between us leaves a sour taste in my mouth, and I can’t erase the past like it didn’t happen. Even if we did move forward, the past is always going to be there. There’s no way to get rid of that!”

JJ’s sobbing, looking away from you. You realise that you’re crying too. Hard and heavy and can barely catch your breath.

“I mean, God, JJ. Do you know how selfish it is for you to be here right now?”

His head darts back to face you. Emotions a mess, you feel your forlorn expression morph into a demented smile. Through a tearful, self-deprecating laugh, you manage out:

“I was barely just holding it together. Barely just surviving, and then you come here and say all these things to me and have this assumption that what you want is what’s right. But it isn’t, for either of us.”

“But we could just—"

“No! We can’t be together again, JJ!”

Letting out a shuddering breath, you hear your words almost echo around the room. JJ’s staring at you. Both of you are heartbroken. What a pitiful, pathetic mess it has all become.

“We can’t, okay?” you repeat, voice softer. Anger gone.

JJ purses his lips and looks down at the floor. You watch as he nods, closing his eyes as he does, as if he’s admitted something to himself.

“Okay,” he whispers. Sniffs harshly. Wipes at his face. You do the same. “Okay.”

This isn’t how you want it to end. You don’t want him to walk out the door with this as his last memory of you. You can’t keep letting the season end on a bad episode. So, slowly, you reach out a hand to grab for one of his. His arms are hanging by his side, defeated. At the touch of your fingers, his instinctively wrap around yours, and he raises his head to look at you.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him. The tears have now subsided, for the most part.

He gives a quivering smile. Bitter-sweet and painful. “Me too.”

He squeezes your hand in his. Now, there’s almost nothing. No zip of excitement or sooth of comfort, and no jolt of pain. Just…JJ.

“I don’t want you to hate me for—”

“I could never hate you,” you say, cutting him off. Smiling yourself, the expression a mirror-reflection of his, you nod. “There’s gonna be a part of me that’s always gonna love you, JayJ. You were my first everything, and that doesn’t go away. Ever. I’ll always be rooting for you and I’m always gonna care for you. But…I have to do it from a distance now, okay? It’s the only way either of us can move on with our lives.”

JJ swallows your words like one might swallow medicine. Unpleasant at the time but affirms a healthy future.

"I know," he nods. "I'm always gonna love you too."

You find yourself wrapping your arms around his neck. Holding him in a hug, tight and secure. His arms coil around your waist and he squeezes you back. The two of you know this will probably be the last time you ever embrace. Ever get to hold him, and him hold you. Neither of you wants to waste it, but neither of you wants to drag it out, in fear that they may never let go. As you pull away, JJ presses a brief, fleeting kiss to your cheek.

Standing in front of one another, once more, you remember the hurricane. The windows are rattling in their frames, rain battering down on them. It’s intense out there.

“You want me to stay?” JJ wonders softly.

You frown.

“I mean-” He gesture to the hurricane-induced storm outside. “I know how you hate them.”

You smile, eyes flitting down. Shaking your head, you sigh. “I need to face them on my own now, I think.”

JJ chuckles soberly. Nodding in understanding, he takes a step or two back. His hands slip into his pockets.

“Then…I guess I should leave.”

“Are you gonna be okay walking home?” you ask. You meant what you said: you’ll always care for him.

JJ nods, smiling brighter still. There’s still the shadow of pain that haunts the expression though.

“Yeah. You know me, I live on the edge.”

With his wink to accompany his sardonic words, you give a soggy laugh. JJ grants you a small wave and another smile. Your favourite smile. Your favourite person. Then, he’s turning around and walking himself to the front door. You hear the gust of wind battle into the house as he opens it, and the hearty slam as he forces it closed.

Standing stoic in the kitchen as if stupefied, you stare after him.

It’s done.

No more new memories. Only the old, to have and to hold, to care for and to cherish. Right now, they’re painful and visceral, but give it time, and they’ll be digestible. You can comb through them and smile and reminisce. Beneath almost every emotion is a tinge of happiness, be it grief or anger. Heartbreak will simply be the same.

Walking back to the living room, you cuddle up under a blanket on the sofa and snuggle against the cushions. Flicking the television back on, you sigh, sit, and continue watching your new show.

From inside the chateau, the windows rattle from a vicious blow of wind.

“What are you doing?” JJ snorts. His voice sounds like it’s come from the doorway.

You look up from the spot you’ve claimed on the floor, cocooned in a blanket. Your cheeks are wet from tears and JJ’s face becomes void of humour, instead morphing into concern.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” he worries, quickly coming over to you.

“It’s dumb,” you sniffle.

JJ shakes his head as he lowers to his knees, wrapping you into his arms. “It's not dumb.”

“You don’t know what it is yet.”

“Well, even if it is dumb, I won’t love you any less. Just might judge you a little, is all.”

You gently batt at his stomach at his stupid joke, making him chuckle.

“What is it?” he asks again, shifting so he can look you in the eyes.

Your rolling your eyes at your ways when you answer. “I hate hurricanes. I guess I have a fear of them or whatever you wanna call it.”

“A fear?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, wiping your wet face.

JJ nods, humming in understanding. He glances around the room a moment and you find yourself inching closer to him for shelter. A flash of lightning shoots a dart of light in the room and you can’t withhold your pathetic, childlike whimper, closing your eyes. Then comes the doomsday thunder. It’s a short pause between the two; means it’s getting closer.

“Here,” JJ says, getting to his feet. He holds out a hand for you and helps you up. “I got an idea.”

“You do?” You say.

You tug the blanket around your shoulders like a shawl. JJ starts moving the sofas and furniture into a weird arrangement. You simply stand back and watch.

“My mamma used to do this for me,” JJ says through a grunt. “Whenever I was scared.”

“JJ Maybank? Scared?” You jest.

He rolls his eyes as he perfects the formation of the armchair, smiling. “Yeah, yeah. Hard to believe, I know.”

“What were you scared of?”

“The dark. And the monsters in my dad’s closet,” JJ replies. He’s now grabbing any blanket he can find.

“The monsters?” you repeat, humour clear in your voice.

“Hey, I didn’t make fun of your current fear of hurricanes, did I?” JJ warns, pointing at you.

You nod and hold your hands up in surrender. That’s fair. “So, what did your mamma used to do then?”

“She’d make me blanket forts,” he says. “To hide from the monsters and the dark.”

“A blanket fort?” you check, smiling.

He’s dragging a blanket over the sofas to make a shelter. You catch on and start to gather some of the throw pillows and couch cushions to make it cosy on the floor, whilst JJ finishes on the structure.

“Yeah. It’s like one of my favourite memories I have of her. She’d make them real cosy and then we’d watch a movie, and I’d be safe.”

When it’s all finished, JJ turns to you and grins. Gesturing proudly to his creation – bumpy as it is – you grin, giggling a little. “Ta da!”

“A Maybank tradition,” you say.

He climbs into the fort and settles on the cushions. The light from the lamp casts through the blanket to give the faintest glow. Holding out his hand, you take it with a laugh and move to sit beside him. He shifts you so you can lay with your head resting on his chest. His arm loops around your waist and you place a hand on his side. It’s quiet in here. The rainfall is barely audible and the thunder is muffled. It feels like its own world, safe from anything else. Safe with JJ.

He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“So, what’d ya think?”

“I think this might be the most romantic thing you’ve ever done, Maybank,” you reply, looking up at him.

JJ grins. “Just wait ‘til we get that gold. The blanket forts are gonna be insane.”

You laugh and shake your head. JJ falls into an extravagant daydream of the forts he’ll build for you: with drawbridges and dragons and all sorts of ridiculous crap, that you know he’s only spewing because it’ll get a laugh out of you. Settling against his chest, feeling the rumble of his voice and shaking of his laughs through his t-shirt, you smile. What a sweetly clandestine memory to share.   

[sarucane]

Why did Ed headbutt Stede?

This one is fairly straightforward in the show but also fun to rant about so here goes!

I think the short version of this answer is "because Ed had no other way to communicate FUCK OFF at that moment." Ed can't talk, doesn't seem able to move, and is very unclear on exactly what's going on and what he's doing (even a while later he has a deeply revealing conversation with a confused rabbit--he's definitely not all there in this moment). Still, Stede's wrong when he suggests it was an accident: Ed owns the action later when he yells "I'm glad it hurt, that's the point of head butts!"

That being said, it's worth taking in the context for a sec, because Ed does love Stede and there is a theoretical potential for this to go to a very dark place. Balancing the violence of the pirate world with portraying healthy relationships is quite a challenge for these writers, as it'd be easy to tip over from healthy to very unhealthy.

In the same episode, Mary gets stabbed in the back quite deeply (it's knocking on bones) and it barely bleeds, let alone hurts once it's out. Ed and Stede have both been run through with swords but since "the important bits" didn't get hit, they needed no recovery time. Hell, Ed got shot in the arm and hit in the face with a cannonball in S2E2 and he's fine by halfway through E3. A headbutt is nothing on this show, it's like a kid elbowing another kid on the bus.

Ed head butts Stede because he's angry and in emotional pain, he's a pirate and pirates (not to mention many humans) express emotions through violence, and Ed can't break a chair or smash something--so the headbutt is the only available option.

And in terms of walking that line between health and unhealthy/violent relationship: the headbutt not only does not take place while Ed and Stede are in a relationship, it is itself a way of Ed saying "WE ARE NOT IN A RELATIONSHIP 'CAUSE YOU DUMPED ME FUCK OFF." When Ed is in possession of his faculties, he is still using violence to externalize emotions, but Stede is emphatically not a target of that violence.

Ed doesn't even look at Stede from the moment the anger starts rising, and he turns his back on Stede and moves to another part of the room entirely to smash shit. Not the most mature response, but consistent with Ed's character and history while also pointedly sidestepping that dangerous territory.

And Ed's anger fueling the headbutt is completely justified.

Stede and Ed are often in different emotional places within their relationship, but they're rarely as far apart as at the beginning of episode 3. Stede is acting (in fairness understandably given the near death thing) absolutely no differently than he would if they were, at that moment, in a romantic relationship (which fits with his whole "I didn't dump him, we're on a break" schtick). But Stede quite brutally broke Ed's heart, triggering a crisis that led to Ed being so convinced he's "not loveable" that he despaired of living at all.

Stede says "I thought I lost you," and the only appropriate response to that is "YOU DID," and that needs to be made clear to Stede, because there's a difference between "being on different pages in a relationship" and "being on different pages about a relationship existing." Ed is hurt, badly, and Stede's total lack of acknowledgement of that is absolutely infuriating. Like Ed says, hurt is the point of head butts: Ed was hurting and Stede wasn't, and that distance in experiences demanded a response, so Ed seized on the only one available to him.

[ben-talks-art]

Trapped and Dreaming Freedom

So I've been reading these two webtoons lately about female leads stuck in very toxic and unhealthy relationships (while being aware of it), and I'm loving every second of it!

If you know me, you know I just love a badass cool female lead and I also love seeing characters stuck in very difficult situations and watching how they use their brains and/or skills to get out of it, and both comics excel at these aspects!

First series is "Trapped", a comic about this taxi driver who got tangled by accident with a vampire who develops an obsession with both her and her blood after she manages to outsmart him a couple of times, something that hasn't happened to him in years.

It feels very "Tom and Jerry" with both characters trying to get the upper hand on their relationship, and you would think it would be super one-sided but vampires actually have quite a bit of annoying rules on how they work that severely limit their freedom and our female lead exploits as many of them as she can to make him eat sh*t! It's just glorious!

"Dreaming Freedom" is... somehow less dark, and at the same time way darker of a series.

It's not as violent or gory but it deals with more realistic problems that hit closer to home for some like school bullying, abandonment, harassment, family abuse, and so on.

The premise is that our female lead teams up with a guy that has the power to use dreams to affect people in the real world, and they use this ability to get revenge on all the girl's classmates that harassed her, but the more our female lead does that, more the male lead gets obsessed with her and we later find out that he has some serious anger issues making him extremely dangerous.

Our lead basically goes from "I can use him to get payback!" to "Oh my God, I'm the only thing that's keeping this dude under control and away from people!"

It feels like you're being handed a living knife that you just pray won't run out of control or turn itself against you. It's so uncomfortable but at the same time so thrilling!

While I really don't like when unhealthy relationships are glamorized and used to send some kind of "Oh, he's kinda dangerous... But at least he loves you, so it's okay, right?" message, I do like it when the unhealthiness of the relationship is the focus AND is painted as a problem that needs to be fixed.

I like how both female leads always call the male leads on their bs and keep them in check whenever they start going too far, and it's fun to see how they use them whenever they're backed into a corner by the antagonists of the stories.

Also like the themes these series explore, about how when you keep dealing with people that act like monsters you see yourself slowly turning into a monster yourself and start to attract other monsters as well, eventually making you question how far can you go? How far should you go? Can you get back from it? And so on.

But most of all, I like that both series make sure to show that these "bad boys" were their last freaking options. Not the first, not the second, but the very bottom of the barrel. They went to them only after they felt they had no other choices and were sure that nobody else would take their side.

This isn't just "Oh, I went to him because he's a hot bad boy", this is "The world turned its back on me so I'm gonna use the only cards that I have left."

They basically made a deal with their devils and now the fun is watching to see how/if they're gonna get out of it.

This is how I like to see problematic relationships. You don't paint them as something normal or something good, you paint them as a hardship that needs to be dealt with and use it to do clever commentary on the worst aspects of humanity so we can learn how to be better and as a source for good and intense drama to make us worried for the main characters and invested in seeing them get out okay.