#tw mistrust

[coffeexxcigarettes]

Modern Medicine

-

I pointed.

Shouted.

I wasn't myself,

I was outside of myself;

I was braver than normal.

Bold to accuse,

Lined with resentment

And burning with one too many

Broken promises.

The way you leaned back and watched me.

Letting the silence that followed

Linger.

As if this was normal.

"How did you become a doctor?!"

I choked.

"Tell me. And be honest."

The air was heavy,

But you moved closer to me.

Leaned in as if whispering a secret.

Spilled blood at my feet,

Tears in your eyes.

You don't have to trust me.

You said as we parted ways.

But you have to find a way to stay.

x

[masquenoire]

Apart from upper body surgery, Roman didn't require much else to maintain such a masculine figure. When he was dropped as a baby, the resulting fall damaged the pituitary gland in his brain, causing his growth (and aggression levels) to go haywire the day he hit puberty. Before then he remained a very small child, one easily pushed around by his parents but remembering every strike, every insult and slap he suffered at their hands until he was old enough to fight back. It came as a nasty shock to Mr. and Mrs. Sionis when the child they resented for years as being slow, ugly and unfeminine seemingly transformed overnight into an uncontrollable monster hellbent on tormenting them at every opportunity.

[snippetsnitch]

#12 – Help me

(❗TW: Implied torture, Wounds❗)

"Why should we help you?", [Sidekick] asked, looking at [Henchperson] suspiciously, "The last time we met, you tried to kill us."

[Henchperson] winced, like they were reminded of an awkward detail of their teen years instead of their attempt to murder [Hero] and [Sidekick] a few weeks ago.

"It's more complicated than that", they muttered, avoiding [Sidekicks] and [Heros] sceptical gazes. They nervously fumbled with their hands. [Sidekick] frowned. Their foe looked jittery. They had dark circles around their eyes. Had they lost weight...?

"I don't see anything complicated here", [Hero] retorted, never tearing their gaze away from [Henchperson], "You are working for [Villain]. You kill people in their name. You are our enemy-"

[Henchperson] made a frustrated noise. "Oh my god, would you just fucking listen for one goddamn second?!", their enemy cried out, angrily throwing their hands in the air.

They took a deep breath, apparently trying to calm themself. "[Villain], they..-", [Henchperson] started again, looking around nervously, "They hurt people..-"

"Yeah, no shit", [Hero] deadpanned, "That's why we fight them, you know?"

"No, you don't understand...", [Henchperson] whispered faintly. They looked haunted. Scared. A weird feeling started to rise in [Sidekicks] gut. "What do we not understand?", they asked mildly, growing tense when [Villains] subordinate shuddered.

With shaking hands, [Henchperson] grabbed their own shirt and slowly rose it to show lacerated and broken skin.

"Shit-", [Hero] swore, eyes wide with shock.

[Henchpersons] torso was covered with dark bruises, cuts and burns. Some of them looking like they had been inflicted just a few hours ago. A choked sound escaped their foes' mouth as they looked up to [Hero] and [Sidekick] through tearful eyes.

"Please...", [Henchperson] whispered, tears falling freely now, "Please help me."

[soldsouls]

When Gale mentions he once summoned a magma mephit in his youth, says he was lovely and they still keep in touch, I imagine Luci just giving him the weirdest side look, the kind you could not possibly miss. You might assume he's thinking something nasty, but it's largely disbelief and "that's fckn weird". His own experience with mortals has been more in-line with Shovel's: starved, ignored, beaten, tossed around, all-in-all treated like an animal or worse than one. After all, imps and quasits and other such beings are generally considered "not people". He can't quite believe Gale feels differently.

[boleynqueenes]

Being as you are someone who writes about Anne Boleyn, I must ask you, which are your favorite portrayals of Anne Boleyn? I mean fiction (novels, film, tv) but also non-fiction. And, do you feel your fav portrayals have influenced you in the way you write Anne and her story? Your least favorite ones, do they have an influence too? Which ones are they? Thanks

If there's one with zero merit and/or minimal entertainment value I won't include it on the list, I'll say I'll ** = my absolute favourites and * = my compelling in some aspects, but tread with caution, and those sort of in between I'll leave alone.

Or rather, let's put it another way...* is worth a library rental or free Kindle borrow, whichever you have available, and ** is worth an actual purchase. Those without *...eh, I'll leave it to you.

The Challenge of Anne Boleyn, Hester Chapman*

Adultery, Heresy, and Desire, Amy Licence*

Raven's Widow, Adrienne Dillard**

Jane Boleyn, Julia Fox**

Among the Wolves, Lauren Mackay*

Queens of Henry VIII, David Starkey*

The Story of the Death of Anne Boleyn, Translation, Edition, and Essays by Joann DellaNeva**

The Lady Elizabeth, Alison Weir*

Renaissance Prince, Lisa Hilton*

Hunting the Falcon, John Guy & Julia Fox**

The Life & Death of Anne Boleyn, Eric Ives**

Tudors in Love, Sarah Gristwood

Tudor England: A History, Lucy Wooding**

Children of Henry VIII, John Guy*

Henry VIII by Lucy Wooding**

The Other Boleyn Girl, Philippa Gregory*

The Lady in the Tower, Alison Weir*

The Lady Anne (Book 2 of 5 of Above All Others series) by Gemma Lawrence**

Judge the Best (Book 2 of 5 of Above All Others series) by Gemma Lawrence**

Threads by Nell Gavin*

In the Shadow of Lions, Ginger Garrett*

Tarnish by Katherine Longshore*

Brazen by Katherine Longshore

Anne & Henry by Dawn Ius*

Wife after Wife by Olivia Hayfield*

The King's Mind by Christopher Rae**

The Concubine by Christopher Rae**

VIII by HM Castor

Queenbreaker by Catherine McCarran

The Tudors (2007-)**

The Lovers Who Changed History (2014)**

Anne Boleyn miniseries (2021)**

Blood, Sex & Royalty (2022)**

I Am Henry: A Compelling Novel of Anne Boleyn and Henry VIII (2023)

And, do you feel your fav portrayals have influenced you in the way you write Anne and her story? Your least favorite ones, do they have an influence too? Which ones are they? Thanks

Pieces from everything influence me, Christopher Rae's and Gemma Lawrence's novels, for example, both had some of the best and credible portrayals of Henry Norris I've ever read, both in credible unrequited love (tying into, Anne's wariness thereof) that was forged into a weapon against him and for why he became such a favourite of HVIII's in the first place (would've included Jeff Lavender's thesis of Norris also, had you asked for beyond fiction and non-fiction books). The best parts of all of the above have inspired me to craft AB as a character at turns, sympathetic and unsympathetic: proud, courageous, intelligent, zealous, prudent (more in the 16c sense than 21c), fierce, jealous, sensitive, vindictive, unyielding, talented, compassionate, bold, spirited, pious, impassioned, loyal, loving ...somebody who inspired either complete devotion or implacable hatred, with very little in between, and felt comparable extremes towards her own family, friends, and adversaries.

From my least favourite...I try to remember that every choice she made was morally defensible and/or justifiable, from her own perspective, regardless of whether or not it actually was (and of course, they weren't always). I try to remember also that fear and insecurity can best explain some of her less palatable choices, as enumerated here. Basically, just that she was human and flawed, but also that there were many people personally (and often, religiously) invested in magnifying her flaws and reducing, or even outright omitting, her strengths. Obviously, that misogyny can also be a factor in some of her portrayals, is a salient remembrance to keep in mind, as well.

[fillinforlater]

Eleven to One: Scandalous Shooting

Male Reader x Ahn Yujin

Length: 3140 words

Tags: quickie sex, semi-public sex, might get caught, sex toys, toy use in public, a tiny bit of feet kink/admiration, standing sex, from behind, hard sex, very wet, very close to squirting, very close to losing your career, megalomaniac!you

TW: semi-public sex, I guess lol

Inspiration: the GIF below. Pure sex.

Credt: @sooyadelicacies, my wonderful co-writer in this series. You can find more parts here!

(A/N: After almost three weeks, I'm finally back! Eleven to One is far from being over, view this as sort of an interlude with a big plot point and some nice, good fun with our hot af Ahn Yujin. Enjoy!)

“Excited for my new shoot? Yujin has sent a video.”

#

"Fuck you dumb bitch, suck it just like that." 

Your cock was currently slamming the throat of a gagging Kim Chaewon for what could be between one minute and one hour, anything in between really, but either way, her salvation has just arrived. You pull out of her huffing and puffing mouth and with no further thought wasted on the training session, you prepare to leave.

"What? Where are you going asshole?" Chaewon shouts, baffled, furious, most importantly baffled when you instantly have your hands around her neck and glare down at her, petite and small, kneeling on the floor, one could almost mistake her for a good girl. Chaewon is not yet there though.

"My desire and cock is needed elsewhere. You're not a priority, only a cheap convenience. Yujin is demanding my attention, rather, I demand her body right now." 

Chaewon's face further contorts to a scowl, as you expected. There is the spirit to fight, fight back, fight you, fight whoever opposes her. This spirit is slowly but surely bending to your will and the best part about it: Chaewon has no clue. 

"I'm better than she is..."

Left to right, you cross her messed up face with your cock and scoff at how pitifully desperate her expression is. A little fingering with Minju, a quick blowjob, a facefuck, and she is already demanding you to stay; over your beloved girlfriend, mind you.

"Don't kid yourself, Chaewon." You get your hand in her hair, comb it then mess it up again. "You are so far behind, it's not even funny to compare yourself to her. Like I said: not a priority.

"Minmin, I need you to tie her up. Chaewon's been bad again."

"Yes Daddy!" Minju says naked before you, she is always in the next room, ready to adhere to your commands with glee and joy, even as she puts ropes around her friends ankles and wrists.

"Oh and Minju,” you add, pants not yet around your waist. “How about you suck me off and I'll blast it all over Chaewon's face before I leave. If you are fast, I’ll allow you to lick it off of her too." 

Minju’s eyes brighten and she nods furiously. Soon she’ll nod on your cock.

#

It always fascinates you how easy it is to get into certain areas as long as you look determined and wear the appropriate attire. You dart into the building where Yujin currently still had her shooting for the 1000th magazine her stunning face will be featured on.

Is this an issue for you? No. Yujin is yours, ready to go the extra mile for you every single day. She accepts your craziest desires, the family of lustful friends around the two of you, hell, she risks her entire hard earned career and reputation for you. No reason to mistrust her or be envious because people get to see her face or shoulder or feet—

Okay, this is where you draw the line. Yujin just looks too good; her curvy, willing body on the drawer, hair done to tempting perfection, gaze full of sex and then she sticks her bare feet out. You have to stop it, though it's already on camera, they can’t have more of that.

Behind a group of staff members you come to a halt. Get on your toes and look over their heads to find Yujin, in talks with the director. You hear whispers about some reshoots, Yujin handles the small, direct criticisms like a professional. Of course your eyes also drop from her face to her hips, then even lower to her feet, which are currently hidden in two ugly slippers.

Blending in with the crowd, you make a mental note to speed up plans for your next merger, which is right around the corner, only some stupid, posh guys in suits hesitating, because they don’t want to lose face to Hyewon’s non-nonsense negotiation tactics. After this final chess move, there is no more sneaking around after that. It's a checkmate for any and every doubt. Nothing can stop your fantasies from coming true.

You wait for Yujin to notice you, but then grow impatient. Tapping on your pants pocket, you push a button and notice from a distance a twitch of pleasure on her face as she quickly scans the room to find you.

Perfect, she still has it on her. Whenever Yujin goes out, she has the option to take a small bullet vibrator from her purse and use it to relieve some stress or make a boring schedule more fun. The vibrator is connected with both your and her phone, so you can always test if she knows that you are nearby—and also have your way with her, of course.

Yujin’s libido is great enough for such a bold move and of course she has found you immediately, but instead of going straight towards you, she continues her duty. After all, the reshoots have to continue.

"This scene right here, on top of the drawer," the director says. Yujin gets into position, and thank God she kicks off the slippers.

You lick your lips a little before turning into a scowl. You push the button again, only this time on a higher setting. If you arrived, you were the top priority, not some wannabe director having his eyes look at the most sex-oozing woman to ever walk on this earth. Watching Yujin squirm, you decide to pull out your phone and make a call. The call.

"Hyewon, plans have changed. I want the merger motion to go forward right now. I'm done waiting." 

"Yes, Master!" 

You only had to wait as you watched Yujin continue to try and control herself under the power of the toy inside her. As the minutes and poses went on, it became harder for her to withstand the buzzing pleasure, though the constant background noise has everyone except you blissfully unaware of the vibrators presence. You have to admit, waiting is the thing you hate the most in this world, but with Yujin on the edge, in public, right before your eyes, it’s more than bearable.

"Miss Ahn, is everything okay?" the cameraman asks, worried and puzzled by Yujin's expressions and the increasing redness on her cheek.

"Hm? Oh yeah, I'm gu-ud. Should I try a different pose?"

"How about you put your legs up on it, like you did earlier?" the director suggests. 

When it comes to poses, magazine shoots, and being in front of the camera in general, Yujin is a goddess in every aspect. Cute, thrilling, hot, seductive, cool, she can do it all—and today she decided to give the people what they want.

This tease cannot go unpunished. You continue to let the vibrator do its thing on a low setting to not elicit any unwanted moans and just wet her crotch more and more. It might not be noticeable on the black dress, but she is about to soak it, let her juices run down her legs and pool at her marvelous feet. You are insatiable, not even stopping when she looks at you with begging puppy eyes—

Yujin is at your mercy; only you can get her out of this.

A message from Hyewon lights up your phone. It is done, Master. Well spoken, she must have really pushed those otherwise tenacious executives around hard to get it done this quickly. Smiling, you decide to make your presence known, startling the crew. 

"Mr. Director, you should be getting a phone call any moment now, I'm here to supervise the rest of this shoot. You're all doing wonderful, but I want to make sure Yujin's health is prioritized. Could we go for a lunch break now?"

"Sir, who are you—" The shrill ring of his phone interrupts the bewildered director, though his bewilderment only increases with every second the phone call continues. He hastily runs from set to set, gathering staff members, phone still pressed to his cheek.

"What have you done now?" Yujin snarls, her body not on the drawer anymore, unstable next to you. She grabs your suit, but elect to You ignore her and watch the staff flock out, the directors face full with sweat, an apologetic gesture towards you.

"So-sorry, Sir, we of course take the health of the idols very seriously. I didn't know you were managing her."

"It's alright," you say reassuringly, hand in a pocket, and in the thrill of the moment, you push the vibrator to the strongest setting. "Are you~ alright, Miss Ahn?"

Yujin cries out, her shriek startling the director. He tries to react quickly, but you put on your sternest, most serious face, really, the feat of a great actor, though that is par for the course in your business. 

"Lets not waste any time. Mr. Director .I'll need everybody off the set. I'd rather not have anyone see Miss Ahn like this. Thanks for your understanding."

"I-I, of course, I'll—"

The director throws his hands in the air. His face is pale, he is unsure where to run, left, right; he needs time to catch himself and find the exit as does everyone else. He closes the door with an apologetic bow and you can hear him shout in panic and frustration.

"How the hell did you do that?" Yujin mumbles, her hands on your side to keep herself upright. Look down to find her legs drenched in her own juices, the dress ruined, her hair in a wild mane.

You lick your lips. 

"Oh baby girl, you're mine now. I had Hyewon seal the deal. I bought your company, which means, personally and professionally, every part of you belongs to me."

Yujin's puppy eyes have never been bigger—except for maybe the time you first penetrated her tight pussy—though this time you find it hard to make out any clear thought she might have; is it pure bewilderment at the boldness and timing of your move? Is it anger because you purposefully got her into trouble, took things too far, just because you could? Or is it—

"Now what?" Yujin grits her teeth and looks to the wet floor. "This was too risky! Reporters will ask questions, some are going to spy on you, rumors will spread—they will find it out! You can't hide this forever."

You gently rake your hand through Yujin's raven hair and watch her toes tense up. Her entire body radiates tension, stress, like she can see everything crumble. The future looks bleak, nothing but darkness. The ‘young you’ can relate strongly, the bottom is usually dark—but as long as you fight, you'll reach the light. Even in the poorest of areas, someone is able to reach for the stars and create a better place for himself, his family.

A better place, even better than what you believed was already perfect.

"Trust me, Yujin," you coo to her and gently pull her hair back to look down at that concerned face of a beautiful goddess. "This is going to lead to moments greater than you could've ever dreamed of."

She looks at you with a swirl of conflicted emotions, but you don't let her dwell on it for too long as you move in to kiss her, prodding your tongue into her mouth too. You subtly position your left hand's fingers near her wet snatch.

"We don't have—"

"—a lot of time," the two of you whisper simultaneously. It's teamwork, alright, how she finishes your sentence with her needy voice, how you hike up her dress while she fiddles with your zipper, how you both find a bit of cover in the far corner of the room. If someone were to come in, you'd at least not be seen, but by the way Yujin squirms when you pull at the cord of the oval vibrator, her voice will make the situation blatantly obvious, even for a blind person.

"You need to stay quiet," you growl in Yujin's neck while you still try to get the plug out of her tight cunt. "This is some serious business, don't disappoint me. Do it like you did last year, on the red carpet.

"Why the fuck—"

The vibrator is still stuck inside her, the walls of Yujin's pussy clamp around it, not ready to let go of the pleasure the constant vibration brings. If it wasn't for your arm around her waist, Yujin would've dropped to the floor already. She is unable to resist it, it's deep inside her, it's snuck and comfortable. 

A conflict for you, for her: Can you really let her cum just like this again? It would not be the great, immediate release for your cock you were looking for, but the humiliation, Yujin's embarrassment would make you ascend to a new level of all-powerfulness. It's the same for her, just the other way around. It seems that she has made up her mind before you though:

"Daddy please, you-you need to leave… let me finish the shoot and—" 

But you keep kissing her neck. 

"Baby girl," you growl. "Either you cum on my cock after I pound your tight little pussy or I turn that toy in you on maximum for the rest of the day. You'll squirt like a fucking fountain, make a mess and then what? What will the headlines say then?" 

"Daddy, please! At home… I'll do whatever you want, just not here."

"You know it already don't you, baby girl? I'm your salvation—my cock is your salvation—with it inside your walls, it will keep your cum from spilling out and save you from becoming breaking news."

This much convincing, with Yujin convulsing, is really confusing, but in the end, she is unable to conceal her desire for you to plug her. Her neediness is an issue and your neediness is the solution.

There is no need or time for a blowjob, you are ready to enter right away, so you grab as much of the black dress as you can and pull it up. Yujin's help would be appreciated, but the horny thing can barely stand on her own, both her hands on your back to find security.

"You're the prettiest when you are this needy, baby girl," you tell her as her large, watery eyes are unable to look anywhere but you. A couple of tears spill over, then down her cheeks when she finally presses out the vibrator from her pussy. "Get your leg up here, on this couch." 

The angle is perfect, your throbbing cock aligned—you still need to dive in her delicious full lips with that strawberry flavor to deafen her moans. The dive was almost too late, the draw of her cunt is too strong for your manhood to resist, and of course you fill her fully.

"God, you're so tight, you're always tighter when you're so needy.” Your words come pouring out when you disconnect your lips from hers; it’s like disconnecting from the world and ascending to a place of unknown, unbound, unending power. “I get it now. These shoots, these long and stressful hours. You're so hard working baby girl, but now we can fuck anytime. Isn't that a good thing?" 

You thrust harshly and stroke Yujin’s pretty hair. Anytime, anywhere, it all doesn’t matter anymore. What it matters is you in her, above her, all over her. This is what your love is "Tell Daddy how it feels."

"Y-you're so greedy," Yujin huffs out, even after years of almost daily pussy pounding she is unable to control her breathing during sex. "Where, fuck, where will this end?"

"Answer my question, baby. And keep your moans down. I might make you cum, erupt like a pent up volcano. I can already feel the tsunami building up. Admit that you want me this greedy, because nothing can satisfy—"

"Fuck, okay, okay." Yujin grabs the sleeve of your suit with one hand and your nape with the other. "Daddy, own me. My entire life, my career, my social circle—take it." Her eyes are daggers, then a concoction of bliss, devotion and insurmountable expectations. "Take re-responsibility, and I'll be the best baby girl ever."

"You'll be that either way."

Slam her against one of these many thin, unstable decorative background walls, watch it sway dangerously backwards, but fuck her with the same recklessness as before. Yujin's teeth dig into her lower lip, her body losing all it's grip, except for the grip of her cunt, which you have fucked from every angle, sure, but standing has her the tightest. At least, you believe it right now—maybe it's the setting, the chance to get caught, the career ending thrill.

"I'm your good girl, good girl, Daddy, I—"

"Go on and cum. My cock will save you."

A fleeting moment, a moment of silence, no movement, as if time itself freezes. A moment where Yujin truly is powerless, where she can't just walk out and break up with you or throw everything away and live a different life. She is about to scream her orgasm out, and with her arms uselessly hanging on the sides of her convulsing, climaxing, prime body, nothing but you can stop her from getting caught.

And she submits herself to it, the scream never making it to anyone as you silence her with a strong palm on her luscious lips. Yujin shakes and shakes, only hints of juices making their way past your shaft, your base. She is plugged and both her legs and dress are saved—at least from being ruined entirely.

The orgasm continues in waves. Yujin's eyes water, her moans echo back, her knees melt like ice cream in the summer—she has to admit, she is waiting for your cream inside her, though it never comes.

"Good girl," you coo to her and start fixing her hair while still balls deep in her cunt. "I have some spare panties for you. Don't worry, I soaked them in some perfume, they won't smell anything. Remember, Daddy is right here. Just follow my lead."

"Y-yes." Out of breath is an understatement. You suffocated the poor girl to the point of exhaustion. Maybe that is the point, to make her look exhausted, weak, hell, she can barely walk. You support her, watch her put on the panties, swipe away some messed up makeup that would look too wild, too suspicious. 

"Hook your arm underneath mine," you tell her. "I'll tell them your ankle is hurt, that we'll go to a doctor, something like that."

"Daddy, why do you go through such lengths for, for this?"

You grin and look down at your girlfriend, mere moments before the photography director comes rushing back onto the set.

"Why are you so tight whenever we might get caught doing this?"

[aphroditelovesu]

Yandere Dragon Riders Headcanons (Platonic)

❝ 🐲 — lady l: this turned out longer than I expected, but that's ok. I'm rewatching Race to the Edge and I ended up thinking about this. Hope you like it! 💛💜

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, manipulation, unhealthy platonic relationships, mention of death and implicit torture.

❝🐲pairing: platonic yandere!dragon riders x gender neutral!reader, platonic yandere!dragons x gender neutral!reader.

How you met the Dragon Riders may depend. Maybe you were from Berk and grew up alongside them and thus became one of them. Or maybe you were from a far away place and met them by chance. Regardless of how you met them, you became part of the group immediately.

Hiccup was interested in you and invited you to become part of the Dragon Riders and his friends fully agreed with their leader. You were warmly welcomed and your members and dragons became close to you quickly.

Having your own dragon yourself, you had some fighting experience and knew how to deal with these beasts. So, you agreed to become part of the Dragon Riders and that was the beginning of their obsession.

Hiccup is the leader and is very fair, he has always known how to deal with everything his way and it has always worked out. He is gentle and protective, sometimes becoming suffocating. He just wants to make sure you're okay, always hovering over you and making sure you're happy and safe.

He's fair, but when it comes to you, that disappears quickly. Gods forbid if anything happened to you, he would be ruthless. You can break all the rules and you will get away with anything, Hiccup would never punish you. He is very soft to you and only you.

Toothless is an incredibly intelligent dragon, similar in many ways to his rider. He clung to you the same way his best friend did. It's very common to see him seconding you around, imitating you and just being protective. Toothless will live up to his title as "the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself" when it comes to protecting those he loves. And he loves you.

Very affectionate too, he loves receiving affection from you, lying on your lap, or letting you rub his scales. You swear you hear the dragon purring when you do this. Toothless would love to take you flying with him and Hiccup. Just the three of you.

Astrid was more suspicious at first, wary when you became part of the group, but soon all the mistrust and suspicion she had disappeared as she warmed up to you. She is extremely strong and takes what she wants and Astrid will have no problem taking you for herself as well.

She will love teaching you how to fight and practicing with you is one of her favorite things to do with you. Astrid is very possessive of you and tends to fight with anyone who spends more time than she would like with you. She will have no qualms about killing anyone who poses a threat to you.

Stormfly is very intelligent and protective, very reminiscent of her rider's characteristics. She's not that affectionate, but she shows her affection for you in more subtle ways, like gently bumping her head on your shoulder and allowing you to stroke her tail.

She likes it when you feed her chicken or play with her, as a form of training. Stormfly would never hurt you, however, it is quite common to see her burying you under the snow as a joke.

Fishlegs is extremely intelligent and uses this to his advantage, his limitless knowledge of dragons, science and history makes him very insightful. He was the second, after his leader, to warmly welcome you into the group, pulling you into a loving hug.

He is not that demanding of your attention, but he appreciates the moments you spend together. He would love to teach you all about dragons and meditate with you. He's a real teddy bear, a friend and you know you can trust him with anything. Fishlegs is the kindest of them all and would never inflict harm on anyone, at least not physically.

Meatlug is an especially affectionate and needy dragon, always wanting to receive as much affection and attention as she can get from you and her rider.

She is very gentle and likes to have her belly rubbed, usually lying down in front of you with her belly up to receive pets. Meatlug is very calm and would hardly hurt anyone unless it poses a risk to you or Fishlegs.

The twins are a double package, when one becomes obsessed, the other does too. It doesn't matter which one of them became attached to you first, as they will fight about it and claim you for each other. Tuffnut and Ruffnut are always fighting for your attention and often end up forgetting about other things when they are fighting over you.

But once they both learn to share better, the fights will lessen and they will spend more time by your side. They demand a lot from you, wanting you to participate in their games and stay with them. Tuffnut and Ruffnut will have no problem fighting or killing anyone for you.

Barf and Belch are just like their riders, one body, two heads, and two brains. They are quite playful and like to scare you sometimes, but they are quite protective and will protect you with their lives if necessary.

They are different dragons, despite sharing the same body, and they act differently sometimes. Barf is calmer while Belch likes to mess with you. They are quite affectionate and like to rub their heads against yours as a form of affection.

Snotlout is the very definition of chaos and a difficult Viking to deal with. He accepted you with open arms, smiling at you and his eyes shining. He is very explosive and difficult to deal with at times, occasionally leading him to do stupid things that are fixed by his friends.

He is very close to you and acts kindly way, although he always flirts with you. Snotlout is quite protective and will kill and deal with anyone who dares to harm you. His anger is not to be taken lightly. He constantly gets into fights with the other riders over you.

Hookfang is essentially the version of his rider in a draconic form, the debauchery and bad mood have been with him for a long time. He is quite calm around you, sometimes poking you and asking for affection but nothing exaggerated. He is not a needy dragon, but he likes to receive your attention sometimes.

He is less close to you, but Hookfang protects you with claws and fire, his body igniting when a threat is close to you. He will have no problem burning alive anyone who threatens you, always with the consent of his rider.

Everyone is incredibly protective of you and will protect you from any situation. Especially when it involves a fight with the Dragon Hunters. They can't risk you getting hurt. If something were to happen to you, they will be ruthless and cruel. No one can mess with one of them without paying the consequences.

Becoming a Dragon Rider was a good thing for you, not only did you make friends for life, but an overprotective family that will not allow any harm to be done to you. Loyalty between you is the main trait you all share and there is nothing they won't do for you.

[donat-senpai]

I finally did it! Thanks to everyone who helped me. Commenters gave me wonderful ideas. :3

I remind. My English is terrible. Feel free to correct my mistakes if you wish.

Yandere!Astarion X Reader Please don't read this if you are uncomfortable with the yandere! tw: obsessive behaviour, yandere thoughts, non-consensual drinking blood, interference in other people's relationships

Astarion leans over your sleeping form and inhales. The sweet smell fills his lungs. He can hear the blood flowing through your veins. He hears your heart beating in your chest. This reminds him of how excited you get when he flirts shamelessly. Astarion runs his cold fingers down your neck. You start to wake up and he is forced to leave.

Shadowheart recoils from the evil vampire. She's a little ashamed that she hurt you. But it's not her fault! You yourself jumped out in front of her during the battle and were hit by a spell. It's just an accident. The girl wanted to heal you, but Astarion suddenly flew into a rage and did not allow her to get closer to you. Shadowheart looked at the man in bewilderment. There was no trace of his usual playfulness left on his face. She decided to retreat. In the end, he will handle such a simple task as applying ointment to your small burn.

Astarion loves it when you describe his appearance and shower him with compliments. However, the hardest part is getting you to start doing it. He's too proud to ask directly. The entire camp sees how needy he can be sometimes. But no one will ever admit it unless they want to die bloodless that night.

You and Gale are standing near the fire and looking at each other. This time the conflict has crossed all boundaries. You sigh in disappointment and ask him to leave the camp. He doesn't argue. This was an obvious result. Astarion will find you a little later to console you. You and Gale didn't get along from the start. Astarion hugs you, hiding a satisfied smile in your hair. Now everything is in the past. No one will remember the phrases spoken by Astarion that sowed mistrust. “He hides too much. It’s dangerous to trust him.” "They would kill you if you were even the least bit useless." “He has no right to demand that you solve his problems, especially in such a tone.” “Hi, Gail. I think they almost told the Followers of the Absolute about you today.”

Astarion successfully repelled an attack that you did not notice. Having dealt with the enemy, he looks at you. You look tired. You can barely stand on your feet and hold your weapon with a trembling hand. You no longer have the strength to pretend to be healthy. Astarion then says that you both need to go back to rest. You complain of itchy bite scars. "It won't heal." Astarion looks at the fresh scars from last night. You don't need to know that he is eating more often than you allow him to. The vampire says casually, “Your body must just be weak from illness.” Astarion takes you in his arms. You try to weakly resist, but you both understand that it’s faster. You fall asleep on his shoulder. Man inhales your scent. Astarion really wants to bite you again, but he restrains himself. Eventually he will have to give you a break or you will die.

[flowersandbigteeth]

Meeting your Changeling BF: Prt 3

General Plot: You meet some of your kind

Word Count: 3k

Changeling (Clark) x f flower nymph reader

TW: nsfw smut, oral, p in v sex, light mind control

Find other parts here

Just like the rest of the ship, the dining room was grand. The tables were lined with bleached tablecloths and neatly dressed waiters shuffled around the space carrying delicious smelling food. Clark ushered you to a small table for two and pulled out your seat for you. 

“Thanks,” you said, your cheeks burning. 

No one had every been so gentlemanly with you before. In your world that sort of thing was dying out. You felt special and cared for in a very unique way. 

Your eyes darted around the dining room as you still hadn’t gotten used to seeing such a variety of different magical creatures, finally settling on a handful of people with flowers blooming in their hair like yours. 

“There are other nymphs!” you whispered to Clark, trying not to make it obvious you were noticing them. 

He gave them a bored glance before returning his attention to the menu. 

“Do you like fish?” he asked,  more interested in ordering dinner. 

One of them caught your eye and turned to the others, pointing at you. Finally, they came to some sort of conclusion and one wandered over to your table. Her hair was fiery red and her cheeks covered in freckles. White daisies bloomed from the braid that wrapped around her head like a crown. 

“Well met,” she said, nodding to you, then giving Clark a mistrustful glance. “Our party noticed you and wanted to…” 

She trailed off, still looking at Clark disdainfully. 

“Maybe you can come over and I can introduce you to my friends,” she said. “It’s not often we come across another nymph outside of the old wood.” 

You glanced at Clark, unsure, but he finally gave you a small nod, though he didn’t seem happy about it. 

“I’m Daisy,” she said, introducing herself. 

The moment you reached their table the other nymphs surrounded you, blocking your view of Clark. 

“Are you okay?” one with black roses wound through her long braid asked. 

She glared at Clark. 

“Has that changeling kidnapped you?” she continued. 

Your head snapped back, confused by their concern. 

“Of course not,” you laughed nervously. “Clark is my friend.” 

“We have no friends but one another,” black rose hissed, turning back to her companions. “Perhaps he’s bespelled her.” 

Daisy held up her hands giving you a placating smile. 

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” she said, eyeing her friends. “What’s your name, love?”

“(Y/N),” you said and she narrowed her eyes at you. 

“That’s rather uncommon,” she pointed out. “Did he name you that?”

You shook your head. 

“Of course not,” you said. “My mother…” 

Their eyes widened. 

“What do you mean your mother?” black rose demanded. 

“Isn’t it normal for a mother to name her child?” you asked. 

She looked at you as if you were insane. 

“Are you unwell?” she asked. “Nymphs bloom from flowers and form from sea foam, we have no mothers, but the one whisperer. The old wood cares for us until we can care for ourselves. Is that what the changeling told you? Has he filled your head with lies?” 

“No, no,” you said, waving your hands, “my situation is complicated…I wasn’t…born here. There was a soul-swap.” 

This made the nymphs appear even more upset. 

“He soul swapped you?!” black rose, who seemed to be their leader barked. “So he has filled your head with lies! He thought he’d take a vulnerable nymph and swap her out with one he could manipulate!” 

“Clark would never do that,” you argued. “He’s just my friend. The other me swapped our souls.” 

Black rose shook her head. 

“A nymph would return to the old wood before she sent herself to another universe,” she growled. “That changeling had something to do with this!” 

“It’s complicated,” you tried to argue, but the nymphs were having none of it, circling you. 

“Come now,” Daisy said. “You’re scaring the poor girl.” 

“She should be scared,” the rose snipped. “Goddess knows what that monster has in store for her.” 

You straightened, frowning. 

“Clark is not a monster!” you snapped. “You don’t know me or anything about me. I won’t listen to you badmouth him from some silly prejudice the people of this world all seem to share. He rescued me from a man that would have harmed me and he’s been nothing but kind!” 

Daisy nodded, trying to get her friends to relax. 

“(Y/N) is right,” she said. “We can’t assume things about her life. We’ve only just met. Just because none of us would perform a soul swap, doesn’t mean she’s lying.” 

“She knows nothing of this world!” the rose hissed. “I don’t trust him!” 

Daisy sighed. 

“Well, we’re not endearing ourselves to her insulting her friend,” she insisted, then turned back to you. “Please forgive Rosalie. While we don’t trust the changeling, you look well and safe. All I can say is that if he does harm you or if you get scared at all, flee to the old wood. Your magic will guide you and you will find friends amongst the nymphs. We look out for one another.”

“We ought to take her with us,” Rosalie grumbled, glaring openly at Clark. 

Apparently you’d been gone long enough and he wandered over to the group of you. 

“Is everything okay, (Y/N)?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at the nymphs. “You look upset.” 

“Everything is fine,” Daisy answered for you, giving you a knowing look. “We only wished to greet one of our kind. We hope you enjoy your evening.” 

Clark put a hand on your shoulder and directed you back to your table. 

“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked, as your face probably looked disturbed. 

“Yes,” you sighed, forcing a smile to your lips. “Meeting new people is tiring for me. I think I’ve had enough of that for the day.”  

“Understandable,” he chuckled and a waiter approached to take your order. 

You couldn’t help churn what the nymphs had told you over and over in your head. Could Clark have really done the soul swap himself? Why would he have done that? From what he’d said of the other (Y/N), he sounded like he had a lot of affection for her. It didn’t make any sense that he would send her away. 

“Can I ask you a question?” you asked suddenly and his slate eyes flicked up to you. 

“I said you can ask me anything,” he said easily. 

“How…How did (Y/N) get her name?” you asked. 

He smiled with pride. 

“I chose it for her,” he said. “When I met her in forest she had no name. Most nymphs go by whatever flower blooms from their heads when they meet one another in the old wood. She was still very young, just a baby really, and hadn’t yet met another of her kind. I hated that. I wanted her to have a special name. So I chose (Y/N). That it is the same as yours, across universes, is only evidence that I chose correctly.” 

Your heart thumped in your chest as you considered his answer. 

“Is something wrong?” he asked, eyes flicking back towards the nymphs who were arguing amongst themselves. 

“No,” you said, again forcing yourself to smile. “Nothing is wrong. I just wondered…I’m sorry. I said I didn’t want to speak of the other me and then I brought her up. Ignore me.” 

“I could never ignore you,” he said. 

His hand slid across the table to cover yours. 

“I would never harm you, (Y/N),” he said. “I’m sorry those nymphs stressed you. Relax and enjoy your meal.”

Immediately, your shoulders loosened and you sank comfortably into your chair. You were thinking yourself into a tizzy, you decided. Clark had never done a single thing to harm you. Those nymphs simply didn’t know him and made assumptions. There was nothing to stress about, right? Right. 

Your eyes lit up with the waiter returned with what looked like grilled salmon on a bed of some salad. Eating your delicious meal, you decided to keep the soul swap to yourself if you met any other strangers. It wasn’t their business anyway. 

When you were through eating, Clark guided back to your room and you looked out of the window. The sun was setting on the horizon staining the sky gold. You felt his arms wrap around you, his warm breath in your hair. You felt safe. Maybe it was foolish to trust him, but you did. 

“I’m so happy,” he hummed into your ear. “You belong with me. We can go anywhere. Do anything, as long as we are together.” 

He pushed your hair to the side to drop hot kisses on your neck. His heavy hands cupped your breasts and you felt his cock stiffen, pressing onto your back. 

His nimble fingers moved to unbutton your dress. When he'd slipped you out of it and your shoes he turned you to face him. His eyes slid over your body, his expression gentle. 

Long fingers drifted over your body. 

"Wait," you gasped and he looked at you, concerned. 

"What's wrong?" he asked. 

You took a step forward, brushing his cheek with your thumb. 

"I want the real you," you whispered. "You can show whatever face you like to the public, but like this…I want you." 

His eyebrows raised and he gazed at you in awe. 

"Are you sure I don't scare you?" he asked and you shook your head. 

"You said we belong together," you said. "I should have your truth, not some illusion you conjured to fit in." 

His cheeks darkened and a moment later the monster hovered in front of you. So he wouldn't worry over your intentions, you took a step forward and kissed the wide mouth that stretched across his face. His long, hot tongue licked your bottom lip, clawed hands pressing you against him. 

You'd never have thought that big teeth and claws would do it for you, but looking over his looming figure your nipples pebbled and your pussy was wet. Eager to show him your appreciation, you dropped on your knees in front of him, palming the thick cock bobbing between your bodies. You gave it a long lick, from the root to tip and he hissed. You felt the prickle of his claws on your scalp as he cupped your crown. 

His pleasure made you quiver, urging you on. You drew as much as you could inside your mouth, swirling your tongue over the head while your hands strokes the rest that wouldn't fit.

"(Y/N)," he almost whimpered, his hips snapping forward on instinct. You moaned as he touched the back of your throat. 

"Fuck, you're going to end me," he growled, his voice much deeper in this form.  

The monster in him took over and he jerked you up by your arms, surprising you. He tossed you on the soft bed, stalking over to you. His claws slashed the under things he'd bought, leaving tattered bits of fabric around you. 

His tongue explored your body, curling around a nipple, while his claws gently scraped your skin. The thick appendage filled your cunt, collecting your nectar. You were sure he wouldn't harm you, but the thrill that he could was unmatched. Your skin sparkled and your legs spread without a thought. 

"I want you," you gasped watching his cock and licking your bottom lip. 

Indulging himself he fed you his shaft again, pressing your head into the pillow with his measured thrusts. Big scarlet eyes bore down on you, watching you take him down your throat with pure unhinged lust. 

When he was pleased he pulled his hips back, flipping you on your stomach and thrusting inside you with one smooth motion. 

"Ahhh yesss!" you squealed in pleasure as he took you. 

His long, strong fingers wrapped around your throat, squeezing just slightly as he drove into you. 

"I'm the only one who will ever touch you like this," he murmured into your hair, curling his body down to cover you. "I'll never let you go (Y/N). You're mine!" 

Each promise was punctuated by a ragged thrust. 

"Promise me I'm the only one," he demanded, jerking your head back by your hair. "Promise me you'll be mine alone."

You would have agreed to anything with his cock stretching you so perfectly you were almost drooling. 

"Yes, Clark," you mewled between pants. "I'm yours. Only you. Only you." 

A clawed hand left your throat and made its way down your body, squeezing a breast then pinching a nipple, before it found its way to your clit. 

You cried out loud as the pad of his finger toyed with your sensitive bundle of nerves. You exploded on his cock, your back arching. Your pussy milked him, spasming around his shaft. 

Thrown over the edge by your sudden tightness, he roared your name as his hot cum splashed your walls. 

He immediately rolled on his side, pulling you with him. His nose pressed into your neck, inhaling your scent. He caged you in with his thick arms. 

You liked the way he clung to you, holding you like you were precious. No one in your old life had treated you with such open affection as Clark. 

As your mind cleared a question floated in your head. You didn't want to ask, but it came from your mouth anyway. 

"Clark," you whispered as his long fingers stroked your bare hip. 

"Yes?" he asked. 

"Did you feel the same way you feel about me as the other (Y/N)?" you ventured. 

You knew the answer could break your heart. You'd only just met, but your relationship felt inevitable. Like fate. You didn't want to just be a replacement. You wanted him to adore you, not her memory.

He was silent for a moment, then he pulled you close. 

"No." he said, his voice dull as a stone. 

"But you knew her so much longer. You grew up-" you mumbled, but he interrupted your words by turning you around to face him. 

"The other (Y/N) was not like you," he said. "Her spirit was in many ways the same, but…She gave herself to someone else and then spent her life wringing her wrists, unable to make up her mind about him until…until she had to leave. She was my friend, but she was…troubled." 

He kept saying that about her. His last words sounded almost bitter. You watched his red eyes as they focused back on you, his mood shifting suddenly. 

"You ran straight into my arms…where you belong," he said, smiling with a mouth full of shiny, sharp teeth. "Fate brought us together and I won't question her ruling. The old (Y/N) never asked to see my true form. As long as we'd been friends, she never asked." 

He pressed you to his chest. 

"You are special," he assured you. "There is no comparison between the two of you. In fact…" 

He kissed your forehead. 

"Perhaps I wish it had always been you," he said quietly. 

"Clark, you can't mean that," you gasped. 

He kissed your head again. 

"My heart wants what it wants," he sighed. "It wants you. Each day that passes the old (Y/N) becomes a stranger, existing only in my memory. Don't be troubled, I'm sure she's at peace where she is." 

"How can you know?" you whispered. 

"Just a hunch," he hummed.  

You had no choice but to accept his answers, cuddling up to his bigger form.

[angstylittleguy]

Broken

The first time Dalton shrinks in front of Bennett. The experience leaves him injured and mistrusting of Bennett, who doesn't quite understand what he's done wrong.

tw: anxiety, uncomfortable touching

character context: Dalton is a size-shifter whose height is affected by his emotions. Bennett frequently gets stuck in time loops and the only way to get the loop to end is for him to survive the day.

word count: 2.1k

-> In Which Everything Goes Wonderfully Wrong masterpost link: Here

-> character introductions and moodboards: Here

Dalton felt an itch begin to spread across his skin. It started on his chest and it felt like his heart was being squeezed. He took in a sharp breath, gaining the attention of Bennett. His eyes snapped over to him.

“You okay?”

The itch was spreading, moving down his arms and his legs. Not now, not now, Dalton thought, his heartbeat spiking. He felt like he couldn’t catch his breath.

Bennett was staring at him with concern, briefly glancing around the library to see if anyone else had noticed his panic. Dalton’s hands were on both sides of his head and he was bent over the table. 

He had to focus. Swallow down the itch. This could not happen right now, not in a crowded place like this. Not in front of Bennett. 

Bennett reached a hand out to him. “Dude, what’s going on? Are you alright?”

The unexpected touch on Dalton’s arm pulled him out of his concentration, and he felt himself drop down a couple of inches. Once it started, there was no containing the shift in size. Without a word, Dalton stood from the table and rushed to the nearest aisle of bookshelves. 

It was just his luck, Dalton thought. The university library was a horrible place for him shrink down. What was worse, was that it was happening in front of Bennett. He had only just met the guy a couple days ago, and he was one of the only two people that knew about his abilities. Rory had left them alone for just a measly few minutes to go and find a book she needed, and now she wouldn’t be around while Dalton was small and unprotected.

He reached an isolated corner in the back of the library—just in time, too—and Dalton felt the world shift before his eyes as his stomach dropped. He fell to his knees in an attempt to lessen the temporary vertigo. With labored breaths, Dalton looked up, seeing the shelves tower high above his head. He was about half the height of a regular-sized novel right now, and he was out in the open for anyone to see. Anxiety gripped at his throat. 

Thundering footsteps caught his attention, and without a moment’s hesitation, he sprinted to the nearest bookshelf in an effort to conceal himself. 

Bennett slowly came down the aisle. “Dalton?” he called, “Where’d you go?”

Dalton shouldn’t say anything. He shouldn’t reveal his hiding space. He’d never been around Bennett small. He would be completely at his mercy. He had no idea how Bennett would react. 

Then again, Dalton was in the middle of a public library at his university. Anybody could find him, and when he was this vulnerable there would be nothing he could do if they decided to do anything to him.

His safest option would be with Bennett, no matter how unfamiliar that territory is.

Dalton peeked his head out from his hiding place. “I—I’m here,” he called. He hated how his voice trembled.

Bennett’s eyes shot down to the ground, and Dalton watched in anxiety-riddled silence as he waited for Bennett to spot him. 

He hated the fascination that took over Bennett’s features when their eyes locked. Dalton couldn’t help but to take a couple of steps back as Bennett lowered himself to the floor. 

“Holy shit!” A smile crept onto Bennett’s face. “You’re so little.”

Dalton flinched at the volume of his voice, stumbling back a couple more steps. He was nearly totally concealed by the shadows of the bookshelf, and frankly, he felt much safer in there. Even if Bennett hadn’t done anything, he couldn’t help that his flight instinct was screaming at him to run. 

“Keep your voice down,” Dalton told him, his own voice hushed. 

“What was that?” Bennett asked, leaning forwards. “I can hardly hear you.”

He was close. He was too close. “Step back,” Dalton said, voice brittle. He held out a hand as if that would do anything. 

Dalton couldn’t pinpoint the expression that painted Bennett’s face at his words, but he didn’t like the way his eyes softened. “Hey, man,” Bennett said, “it’s just me.”

Yeah, no shit. Dalton did not know Bennett. They had only just met. He had no idea how Bennett would act around him at this size. “I need you to go get Rory,” Dalton told him.

“Why? What’s she going to do that I can’t?”

She would know how Dalton was feeling. Her abilities made sure of that. And even though he would never wish this kind of anxiety on his worst enemy, having someone know exactly what was going through his mind would be better at handling him small compared to someone that Dalton only knew as… sporadic.

“No—nothing,” Dalton responded, too stressed to argue. “Just, we need to get out of here. Like, right now.”

“Okay,” Bennett nodded. “I can handle that.”

He reached out a hand and scooped Dalton into a fist. 

The claustrophobia was immediate. Dalton felt like he was being squeezed—no, he was being squeezed—and the air was quickly stolen from his lungs. His ribs felt like they were going to shatter. He was going to tell Bennett that he was holding him too tight, but his world was lurched forwards as they took a giant step forward. 

Dalton wanted to yell, wanted to demand that Bennett put him back down because he regretted his request to leave immediately, but the fear of being heard (or worse, seen) by others made him keep his mouth shut. 

“I’m gonna put you in my hoodie pocket,” Bennett said as they approached the table they had been working at. “So, I can grab our stuff.”

Without warning he was shoved into his front hoodie pocket. Dalton fought an unmanly yelp as he scrambled for purchase in the fabric.

It was hot, it was tight, it was moving, and there was nothing Dalton could do about it. Where was Bennett taking him? Was he going to tell Rory what was happening? Or would Dalton be stuck with Bennett alone until he was able to grow to his normal size?

The walk felt much too long, or much to short, Dalton couldn’t decide. Bennett’s calloused hands found their way around him again, and Dalton was forced back out into the open. His head spun as Bennett adjusted him right-side up, and Dalton was then—rather carelessly—dropped onto a hard surface. He hit hard, not prepared for the drop, and fell on his side, a hard ough! escaping his lips on impact. He propped himself up on one elbow as he took in his surroundings, afraid to find out where Bennett had taken him.

He was in a dorm room, and Dalton could only guess it was Bennett’s. It was messy—clothes scattered on the floor, loose papers sprawled across the surface of the desk—and as he looked around it seemed that Bennett caught on to what he was thinking.

“Uh, sorry about the mess.” He began to pick up his clothes and throw them into his wardrobe. “I wasn’t really expecting company.”

Dalton, finally free from his fabric prison, took this moment to catch his breath. Not being Bennett’s center of attention and being high off the floor was a lot better than what had happened to him so far.

He couldn’t bring himself to stand just yet. His stomach was still lurching from the jostling movements and his legs were weak with anxiety. Dalton watched Bennett shove his clothing into his wardrobe with enough force to snap Dalton in half at this size if Bennett felt like it. He needed to get up, needed to put himself somewhere he felt a little safer. 

Dalton sat up, the pain around his ribs almost immediate. They felt bruised—maybe worse—and Dalton knew instantly that coming here was a bad idea. He should have known that Bennett was just too curious about his abilities, and that nothing good could come from this little unwanted adventure. 

Bennett sat down at his desk, towering over Dalton’s pitiful form.

“So, now what?” Bennett asked, harshly propping his elbow up on the desk and cradling his chin in his hand. “How do we make you big again?”

Dalton swallowed thickly as he looked up at Bennett, unable to hold eye contact any longer before he forced his head to look back down. “Time,” he choked out. 

Bennett hummed, the fingers of his free hand appearing out of nowhere and grabbing hold of one of Dalton’s arms. His forearm was pinched between two fingers, squeezed just a little too tight. He was then forced to turn his arm over as Bennett examined his too-small limb. “What are you doing?” Dalton asked him, forcing his voice not to tremble.

“Just looking at you,” Bennett answered. “You’re just so small it’s actually insane.”

There was a lump in Dalton’s throat. “Please—please let go.”

“Relax, dude. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

It was too late for that, Dalton wanted to say. But he kept his mouth shut and let Bennett continue to gawk at him. He just prayed that he got bored soon. 

“Your hands are so tiny,” Bennett said. “They’re like the size of my fingertip.” 

His fingers moved down the length of Dalton’s arm, pinching his hand as he marveled at Dalton’s size. Bennett chuckled. “I can’t help but to laugh,” Bennett told him, “this is just so crazy.”

He then yanked on his arm and Dalton lurched forward. His ribs screamed with pain and without a hand to catch himself with, Dalton rolled sideways onto his shoulder. He hit the surface of the desk with an oof.

“Sorry, man.” Bennett was still chuckling, oblivious to Dalton’s discomfort. “I just…” His voice trailed off. “Wow.” 

With each prod and poke and unintentional careless action, Dalton felt more and more broken. Tears began to well in his eyes—tears that Bennett didn’t notice due to his curiosity that overpowered his sensitivity—and a sob caught in his throat. 

Dalton bit his lip, struggling with the internal conflict of wanting Bennett to understand and fearing his own vulnerability. Fear left him frozen where he fell, head and shoulder pressed against the hard surface of the desk. Bennett’s touch never relinquished.

As Bennett’s finger lingered on his side, Dalton’s breath hitched, the ache in his ribs intensifying. He wanted to speak up, to tell Bennett to be more careful, but fear held his tongue. 

A finger ran down the length of Dalton’s side with the intention to forcefully lift him from his spot on the desk. Finally, a single tear rolled down Dalton’s cheek. A choked sob escaped through his lips, and Bennett’s touch froze in its place. 

Dalton swallowed hard, his whole-body tensing as Bennett’s finger pressed against his bruised ribs again. “Bennett, please,” Dalton managed to choke out, his voice trembling.

Bennett paused, noticing the fear in Dalton’s eyes. “Oh,” he said quickly, withdrawing his hand. “Did I hurt you?”

Dalton nodded silently, his chest tight with anxiety. 

“I—I’m sorry.” Bennett was cupping his hands together, holding them close to his chest. “I didn’t realize.”

Dalton didn’t move for a few long moments. He allowed himself to cry. To grieve for a loss of normalcy that he hadn’t realized he lost. He waited for the stinging sensation in his ribs to mellow out enough for him to sit up, to look at Bennett with red, tear-stained eyes and demand that he go and get Rory so this nightmare can come to an end. 

Bennett was already crying. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I wasn’t thinking and—”

“That’s the problem,” Dalton replied bitterly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t think.”

A silence settled between them, thick and heavy with unspoken words. 

“I’m so sorry, Dalton,” Bennett finally said softly, his voice tinged with regret. “I’ll try to do better. Next time—”

“There is no next time,” Dalton interrupted. “Please, just call Rory.”

Without a word, Bennett turned away from the desk. He dialed a number on his phone and put it to his ear. 

[ofallthingsnasty]

tw: workplace harassment, mental illness, gn reader, make sure to read the last paragraph as well characters: Crocodile, Doflamingo word count: 1k

While I may be suffering from "I'm a total newbie and scared shitless of my boss" disease + an anxiety disorder, this would be so perfect for either Crocodile and Doflamingo.

Just think about it… You just started working for one of them - and both men certainly demand respect, can be quite scary when provoked, but you think you can weather any storm that might be coming your way. You’re grown, you’ve got bills to pay, they’ve been professional enough so far, it won’t be too bad, right? Oh, stupid, stupid you - because they can smell your little authority figure issues ten miles upwind.

Both notice that you're green, easily impressed and hurried by their presence, notice how sweaty your hands and furrowed your brow gets - and both definitely corner you; try to get you into a frenzied state, right into panic mode just because it’s fun to see how you slowly fly off the hinges. They both toy with you in their own ways - Crocodile is just always standing behind you, silently watching, only the smell of smoke and his cologne telling you he's right there, looming over your shoulder. He enjoys the way your hands shake with whatever it is you’re doing, how you cough and shift around while he does absolutely nothing. His mere presence makes you so antsy he doesn't even have to say something and his silence is easily interpreted as criticism and mistrust by your anxious little brain. It only gets worse when he never talks about his little staring/surveillance sessions, never explains why he randomly shows up at your desk or workstation, never asks you for a word afterwards - you always feel like you’re not good enough, that no matter how long you’ve been by his side, he needs to check up on you. He’s an imposing man, too - so much bulk and smoke, just the thought of him asking you for a vis-a-vis keeps you up at night. And every day, every week spent fretting over him and his perception of you (coupled with the fact that you really, really need this job) makes you more and more insecure, makes it hard to unwind after yet another long day, makes you overanalyze every single glance, every word and move of his. He slowly creeps into your after-hours, your conversations with friends, your weekends, even your vacations.  And he can tell. Crocodile notices the slight, subtle changes. The way you smooth over your clothes before talking to him, how you place an index and middle finger over sternum as if to shield yourself from him, the fucking cold sweat shining on your forehead whenever he does question a decision of yours with a gruff bark. The way you avoid his eyes, stumble over your own feet in a hurry, the way he can see that you sleep worse and worse - that’s how he knows he's got you hooked, fully and wholly. That all you're thinking about is him and work and pleasing him and being good at work and again, him and work and him and- Your job is the only thing in your life now, from the moment you wake up to the time you lay your head down to sleep, everything is consumed by thoughts of him and his opinions about you and your abilities, always aiming to please and so, so nervous to fail. It’s perfect.

Doflamingo is way more vocal about it. He'll throw your work right back into your face, all sneers and acid tongue. It’s just not enough, never enough, reflects badly on him, on his company - whatever it is you do, it hails nothing but criticism and mockery and late nights to fix your stupid mistakes. He doesn’t even give you moments of rest, he just constantly picks on you until you’re seriously considering just resigning for your own mental health. He’s methodically destroying your self-esteem, makes you doubt your own abilities - you know you shouldn’t let him creep into your head as much as he does, but when all you hear is that you’re so fucking bad at your job, how much you suck - it sticks. You’re so stressed because of him you almost have a panic attack over putting your two weeks in and despite your suffering, you keep procrastinating, keep telling yourself you’ll do it tomorrow, when you have had a full night’s sleep. Problem is - you never do. He can tell by the way you’re idling, fiddling with the straps of your bag whenever he comes in for the day that you’re trying to leave - but that you're simply too scared of his reaction to pull the trigger. And that right there; that fear, that pedestal you put him on is the perfect breeding ground for all sorts of unethical things he can push you to do for him. He starts out small; things like getting him coffee in the mornings when you never did that before, a too-warm, lingering hand on your shoulder, a comment about your outfit - every little thing is calculated, tailored to slowly destroy your boundaries while you fear him more and more, give him way more authority over your life than you should. He knows it’s psychological, that someone else might be able to flip him off and leave without ever thinking twice about him. But you… You have accepted him as the one part of your life everything hinges on - you give him all that power in your sick little brain. Oh, he’ll use it well. The fun has only just started, rest assured. 

And while Crocodile gets to click his tongue, scoff and tell you that he'll take over from now on because clearly - you're just not capable and you obviously need him (not only at work but also in your whole life, silly), Doflamingo taunts you and tells you to make yourself useful, then, if you can't even do your job right. Maybe sucking his dick is your true calling - come on, let's see if you can do at least one thing right. One man wants to take your life over completely, sees you as the malleable (perfect) mess that you are, with all the potential that comes with it - and the other just wants to fuck you up for the next decade of your life, wants to be reason you wake up in the middle of night because his vicious smile still bounces around in that head of yours

[itsgrimeytime]

Late Night Talking || Rick Grimes (TWD)

Dialogue Prompts: “Sometimes I just ... do this. It’s fine.” + “How long have you been sitting here?” + “Is it okay if I touch you?”

Summary: You haven't been sleeping -you can't. You weren't used to this... safety that Alexandria brought. Or, at least, they said it brought. So, instead, you found yourself outside, staring out into the wilderness -with no purpose other than to keep watch. One of those nights, you had a visitor.

TWS: angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of death, mentions of walkers, hints of worthlessness, hints of paranoia, swearing, and crying.

Your nights were much the same within Alexandria walls, eyes locked on the gates as if they could fall any second. You watched on as the others found their places, jobs suiting them with ease. And you knew there was some tension in your group, mistrust with such a calm settlement. But you... you couldn't shake it.

But god, the kids... they were growing up... normal-ish. You honestly couldn't fault the place as you watched Judith in her crib, and Carl with people (friends, even) his age. It was wonderful, you could see the heaviness in their eyes dim, just for a gleam, and nothing could take that break away from them. But still... you couldn't sleep.

Not even with Gabriel on watch, and you knew his skills -hell, you trusted the guy really. It just...

Your fingers trailed across the wood of your porch, the empty streets so calm that it almost kicked in a survival instinct for you. Like you were missing something. There was always a danger. Always. You had to be missing something-

This wasn't possible. Not after everything.

So, when the houses were quiet and the streetlamps lit, you found yourself outside -staring at the faraway fences. It's not like you had a weapon, not since they confiscated them, but you'd rather put yourself in front of the others. They'd deserved life more than you could ever imagine.

It's not like you could turn off the instinct, you truly wished you could, as your eyes fogged up and your breaths hollowed out.

Someplace farther than you were now, you could hear them -the walkers. And no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't close your eyes with them in your ear. Not without a weapon close by. Instead, you sat on your porch, leaning up against the siding of the house you'd chosen just a few down from some of the others -the chill of the night was calming to you. Familiar.

The heat inside the home? The running water, electricity, the working locks, the comfortable couches... they weren't.

You weren't sure they'd ever be.

“How long you been sittin' here?”

The southern drawl was the first thing that took you out of your head, and somewhere distantly, you remembered the footsteps coming up to you in the night. You hadn't really noticed at first though.

You looked up at the man, who was freshly dressed -almost comfortable, in a set of clothes that wasn't unfamiliar but still seemed new. His eyes were solely focused on you, and his stance was one you could recognize -eyebrows furrowed and lips pulled in a way that you'd seen more than once.

"I don't know," you answered, tone gravelly with lack of use.

He pursed his lips, letting out a soft sigh, and took a spot beside you. So close your knees bumped together, and at this moment, it was comforting -grounding almost.

"You out here a lot?" he asked, tone curious but not accusing -he was treating you kinda like you were an animal about to scamper away and maybe he was right for that.

The first thing you'd always noticed about Rick was his stance, authority in the fiber of his being. His presence though, like if you closed your eyes and just breathed in... well, Rick... he was calming, a deep tone of ease could flood your whole system. He was safe, really, at least, he always had been to you.

And based on how the others gravitated towards him, you assumed it was universal.

You clarified, a little curt, “Sometimes I just… do this. It’s fine... It's not hurting anybody."

"Right," he spoke, eying you for a second longer than he should have -he didn't buy it you could tell. You didn't expect him to. You didn't really expect to fool anyone with the laxness of your voice and the dark circles deep under your eyes. They'd catch on eventually, you knew that. Better for them too, than some other group here.

Didn't mean you were ready for them to find out.

"Little birdie says you ain't been sleeping," his tone was soft, a whisper across the emptiness that was currently Alexandria -it was an observation, honest and genuine. You weren't sure how to respond, but Rick always had a way of bringing answers out of you.

You posed, a bite of playfulness on your tongue, "This birdie have watch duty?"

You told no one about your lack of sleep, didn't want to add to the workload, but with Gabriel on watch most nights -you doubted the man could miss you. Especially with how close you found yourself to the gate, some days you wanted to walk out -just to feel something more familiar to your past few years. The chilling fear down your spine, the rush of adrenaline to find a roof over your head, and the groans of walkers everywhere you turned. Yet, here you were... safe.

That's what they said anyway.

"Y/N, I know it's-" he began, before faltering off and turning his head elsewhere -watching the flickering of one of the lamps a few feet from you two, "-I know it's hard, to turn the switch off in your head. But we're safe here. The perimeter is locked down. There's a guard watching the exit all night. I've went through it a thousand times myself-"

"I can't," you interrupted, your voice weak and shaky -when had you gotten this tired? Your hands were shaking now, as they rested against your legs, the chill of the house siding buzzing up your back, "-Rick, I've tried. Every night I do."

His mouth snapped shut, as his eyes fell to your face again, the small beginnings of a frown forming on his lips.

"But, I just can't get them out of my head. W-When," you stuttered out, trying to articulate the feelings when they came, "-when they overran the prison, and I didn't see any of you for weeks, months maybe-"

"Y/N."

"I just can't. I can't do that again, it's like drilled into my head to stay awake, I have to... protect everyone-"

"Y/N."

"Do you know how scary it is?" you continued, eyes everywhere but him, "For them to be out there, and for me to be unarmed? They could get anybody anywhere, god, what am I gonna do if they try to hurt Carl or Judith-"

"Y/N, darlin'-"

You stopped, the deep drawl of his words finally hitting you in the face.

"You here?" He hummed, moving closer to you, and now your mid-thigh was brushed against his -the touch buzzing up to your head like a bucket of cold water, "-Can you hear me?"

You simply nodded, the big gusts of breath stopping your from responding. Eyes watering and the hollowness of the lungs, your eyesight blurred -not this again.

"Breathe, Y/N," he spoke, voice barely a tone above the wind, just for you, "-just breathe, alright? You're doing a good job."

You were barely operating then, the thud of your hear against your chest so horribly loud, and the shine of the lights smudging in your eyes. You couldn't focus not really.

"Look, alright," he spoke, a bit more desperate but still in control of the situation -as his hands raised but stayed at bay as he asked, "-darlin', is it okay if I touch you?"

With a slight nod he caught, his hands went to yours, long calloused fingers trailing around your wrist and bringing the hand to his chest. The flannel there was soft on your fingertips and you almost hadn't even noticed what he was saying.

"Look," he hummed, calm and still solid, "-breathe with me, okay? Follow my lead."

You watched, as your hand rising and falling with his breathing. It was grounding, the warmth under your fingertips and pattern of his breaths.

Inhale, exhale.

Your head stopped spinning, and your eyes cleared of their fog -gradual. You remembered how to breathe, as the rise and fall of his chest lead you into normalcy.

"Ya got it?" He hummed, curious and eyes looking up into yours as if he was trying to read you. He didn't move his hand's grip though, fingers wrapped around yours.

"Yes," you exhaled, tone less shaky, "-thank you."

Still, as you shifted from the mindset, his hand stayed on yours -the bubbling of you skin against his prominent. You pulled his hand toward you, tracing your fingers along the indentations of his palms. The motion was solid and flowing -relaxing in the crowding of your mind.

"Y/N, you have to know," Rick began, a whisper as he stared at your connected hands, the clean skin being a little odd to you. Smelling like a fresh shampoo and aftershave, Rick was a new experience but still, at its core was the very same. Safe.

"Know what?" you asked, details smudging in your own brain at the distance from him. Fuzzy and loose, your heart was in a rush.

"Y/N," he spoke, a tone that meant you should know, but you were preoccupied -detailing the creases in his hands. Like it was obvious, whatever he was addressing.

In a blink, his other hand that was not locked in yours moved to your face -tilting your chin up to have your eyes meet his. Long fingers guiding you up with the gentlest of presses.

His face lit up with a smile, eyes bright and wondrous, his fingers trailing up from your chin to the side of your face -cradling. You let go of his hand, laying gently in your lap between you two.

"Rick," you whispered, asking really.

He spoke, like it was the easiest thing to know in the world, "You won't get hurt here."

His face remained completely serious, as he looked at you -only stating what he knew to be sure. He seemed to be sure, like you couldn't move his opinion.

"You can't be sure-" you responded, eyes darting across his face -trying to find a place of uncertainty.

"No, I am," he interrupted, rubbing his thumb along your cheek, "-I am."

You leaned into him, easily, without any hesitation -you trusted him completely, and although all of this was new territory, you really weren't afraid. Rick had meant more to you, but what he was initiating was new -welcome, sure, but new.

"I-" he began a little distraught, almost as if his own emotions brought him to it.

He sighed, heavily, like it was hard to say. Like everything was fighting him in his own body. You furrowed your eyebrows, taking in his face which was currently screwed up in a sort of concern, nervousness even.

His eyes met yours again, as he pulled his other hand up -mirroring the other on your face, "Y/N..."

Rick's hold was gentle, his calloused fingers brushing against your skin in a way that sent a feeling tossing in your stomach. His eyes stayed focused on you now as if he couldn't even chance to look away. Your face burned at the attention, and the fuzz of the night suddenly became... well, fuzzier.

"Not with me," he finished, making a point to match where your eyes darted, following you, "-As long as I'm here, you won't get hurt. I won't... I won't let you."

"Rick, you can't promise that-"

"I am," he added before you could finish and the tone was sturdy -as if would take everything in your power to change it. It was the way he spoke to others sometimes, serious and non-negotiable, "-I'd do anything to keep you, Carl, and Judith safe, you know that-"

"Rick, I don't-" you asked, staring at him now, "What do you mean?"

"I can't," he began, head falling between you two and there was something missing there, you knew it, "-Y/N, I'm not going anywhere without you, okay? And if that means running into a burning building to get you out, or kickin' someone's ass for you to escape... so be it."

Your voice was lost, over the tides of your stomach -you felt like you could hardly think straight with Rick so close. He was saying so much that your brain couldn't quite grasp, and maybe it was the lack of sleep but it seemed to be avoiding something. His hand moved to trail along your jaw, an intimate move, and suddenly, the situation became much more real.

"You have to know," he reiterated, tone soft and careful.

"I... I don't," you responded, curling your hand around his. The feeling in your stomach only triples at the notion -the flutter in your head. You didn't feel like you were really there.

"Well," Rick chuckled, pulling your head forward and pushing his lips onto your forehead, affectionately, "-maybe you should sleep on it?"

You frowned, the laugh breaking the hypnosis of well... Rick you were in and the heavy tiredness hanging onto you, "Not funny, cowboy."

"Cowboy?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow with a look you knew well -teasing.

"Rick, you really can't be surprised by that one," you hummed, giving him a look that seemed to push your point across and thumping your finger against his boots.

He shrugged, as if to say 'fair point', before pulling himself to his feet; the night was now much later, and you imagined whoever was watching Carl and Judith couldn't stay much longer.

You opened your mouth, faltering a bit, "Goodnight, Rick. Thank you for... everything. I don't know how to even-"

He stared at you, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, before recognizing the thought process you'd gone through.

"Nice try, sweetheart," he doted -his drawl loud and proud, holding his hand out, "-but you're comin' with me."

You pursed your lips, eyeing his hands with a discerning gaze, "What?"

"You're gonna end up killin' me," he muttered to himself before looking to you with a smile that sent your heart into overdrive -as he, without much effort, pulled you to your feet. He didn't let go of your hand then, even as you found yourself settled on your feet -he just stared.

"Rick...?"

"Can I kiss you?"

"You-" you stuttered out, your face flushed beyond any stage you'd ever seen, "You want to?"

Rick smiled, hands now on your face again, tilting your face to his, "Wouldn't ask if I didn't want to, darlin'."

Your words lost again, as you stared into his eyes, your heart loud and echoing through your head -you simply nodded. He didn't waste a moment.

The kiss was soft, careful, like you were almost breakable and he didn't want to chance it. Hands delicately holding you in place, guiding you to him and it was much more calming and natural then you thought it'd be. Your fingers found their way to the nape of his neck, fidgeting with the curls mindlessly in the bliss of the moment.

Still, it was over too soon.

He stared at you, eyes shining in a way you hadn't quite seen before- and the creases by his eyes finding their purpose then. He'd always had a contagious smile, hadn't he?

"That clear some things up?" he hummed, thumbs rubbing at your dark circles like he could just wish them away. And maybe he could.

"You know what," you answered, smiling as the tiredness faded into your skin, "-I think so."

[winterlynightlystories]

Welcome to Hawkins

Tw; swearing, mention of child abuse, mention of injuries.

To not steal my work, thank you!

Billy Hargrove/Male reader (he/him)

Summary; you find Billy on the side of the road, bloody and angry. The worse part? You are not alone in the dark.

~~~

Hawkins was a weird place. Even before the Byers boy went missing, the town faced strange things. Electrical anomalies, weird sightings in the forest and sometimes animals would meet a gruesome end. By now you were used to it.

Until the Hargrove came to town.

Hawkins was a small place where everybody knew everyone. There was no secret, not even inside your home. Even if you went in the middle of the wood, by morning the whole town would be aware of what you did. So it was no surprise they were met with mistrust.

Because it only took one look for everyone to agree; there was something wrong with them all. Especially with the father, you thought. With the way, he spoke to his son and how Billy would sometime flinch when his father moved his hands. It was obvious that something was going on.

And then they all met Billy Hargrove at school. Violent, racist, and always ready to fight. He tried so hard to be the king of the school, it was almost pathetic. But he was good to party with, you heard.

For your part, you disliked him. Billy and you would always fight; in the corridors, after school or even during sports class. Sometimes he would win, but most of the time? You would show no mercy and beat the shit out of him.

You weren't violent, some would even call you peaceful. But peaceful doesn't mean harmless and you refused to let Billy Hargrove do as he pleased.

You also pitied him.

No one was blind to the bruised he would try to play off as accidents or results of fights that never happened. Or how he would flinch, even so slightly when someone accidentally slammed a door or dropped something heavy. Or the fear his eyes would hold for a second when someone would throw a ball of paper and it would pass close to his head.

It broke your heart.

And there was nothing you could do.

That night as you drove, the forest on each side of the road, you kept thinking about the Hargrove boy. You wondered what kind of person he really was underneath all those masks he wore to protect himself.

Halfway through the forest, something caught your attention. At first, you thought it was a dead animal, maybe a deer. But then, it moved.

- “Shit!” you cursed, hitting the brake. “Hargrove? What the fuck are you doing here?” you asked, getting out of your car.

Because sitting on the side of the road was the one and only Billy Hargrove. Hair messy and bloody lips, Billy seemed to come out of a fight as the loser. But something was terribly wrong; his eyes were red and puffy and wet as if he has cried.

- “Fuck off man.” Billy snapped, looking away.

- “Seriously?” you sighed “C’mon city boy, I'm driving you home.” you added, eyes turning to the forest.

- “I said, fuck off! Or are you deaf?” replied Hargrove, making you grunt.

- “Oh, shut up. You think I'm leaving you here to be eaten by a bear?”

- “There aren't any bears in Hawkins.” objected Billy, scuffing.

- “Ah yes! I forgot it was my imaginary friend Steve who killed those animals!” you replied sarcastically. “Now you either get in the car by yourself like the good boy you are, or I'll get you in.”

- “Fuck. You.” slowly said Billy, smiling. “Anyway, why do you care so much? We are not friends or anything.”

- “Because there is no way I am leaving you here in the middle of the night!” you snapped, approaching him.

- “Wait, wait, wait! Don't tell me you are scared?” mocked Billy. “Seriously? Scared of the dark, Y/n?”

- “No, not the dark, but of what's hiding in it,” you said, seriously, stopping in front of Billy.

Billy was about to reply something when you heard the eeriest scream coming from the forest. You both froze, staring into the darkness. There was no sound, not even a cricket, or wind. It felt just wrong. Like a second before the disaster. And you felt watched like a prey being stalked.

- “Hargrove, get in the car.” you said, voice shaking as you saw a large shadow move between the tree. “NOW!”

You grabbed him by the collar and turned on your heels. Without another word, you two ran as another scream came from the forest, closer this time.

You barely closed the door before turning the engine on and driving away as fast as you could.

- “What the fuck was that?” asked Billy, looking behind. “That wasn't a bear!”

- “I don't know! I don't fucking know, man!” you replied, still freaking out. “It was too skinny to be a bear. Maybe a sick deer.”

- “Bitch, are you serious? Deer don't stand on their back legs!”

You didn't have the time to reply to anything, spotting the shadow on your left. In the dark, you could not really distinguish anything, but you could swear it was now running on four.

- “I don't want to sound dramatic, but I think it's following us.” you said.

- “How...”

Billy never finished his sentence. Instead, you both screamed when a tall shadow jumped in front of the car as you hit the brakes.

Standing on its back legs, the creature had smooth skin, almost like an eel” you thought. But darker. Like charcoal or shadows. And its head was like a flower.

You almost screamed again, feeling Billy gripping your arms and digging his nails into your skin.

- “What the fuck. Man, what the fuck is that?” he asked, his voice a mumbling mess.

- “Don't ask me! I don't know!” you whined, hands shaking on the wheel. “Man, I can't do a U-turn and there is no way I can drive in reverse in the dark.”

- “Then just run over it! Do something!”

And you did just that.

Pushing your car as fast as it could toward the creature. Maybe it knew what you were trying to do, or maybe it got scared, but seconds before the impact, the creature jumped out of your way. You sighed in relief but didn't slow down.

You heard Billy’s breath slow down before you felt his forehead on your shoulder. If he was crying, you saw nothing, because God be your witness, you were too. Not letting go of your arm, Billy actually tightened his grip.

- “Tell me it's gone. Please tell me it's gone.” he begged with a small voice.

- “Yeah, I don't see it anymore,” you replied.

- “I don't think I can go party anymore.”,” said Billy.

- “Yeah. Welcome to Hawkins.” you scoffed. “So, mind guiding me to your place?”

- “I'll rather not” he whispered.

- “Mind if I take you to mine then? I'll give you some of my shit and will take care of those bruised. I know where my parents hid their alcohol. God, I need a drink!”

- “As long as you share that drink, that sounds good to me. But I'm taking the bed!”

- “Fine princess!”

Billy said nothing and you relaxed. Heart still racing in your chest, you wondered of it was that thing who was responsible for the latest slaughter in the nearby farms. Or killed those missing outsiders. A part of you also knew you needed to call the sheriff, but the other knew it was useless. No one would believe you and you didn't want to put Billy in more danger.

So to your home, it was.

[idle-daydreams]

Howl

[Diviner!Kunikida x Yokai!Reader]

Tw: Slow-burn yandere, obsession, kidnapping, dub-con

[A.N: This was supposed to be for Halloween. My procrastination levels are *chef's kiss*]

The reports said that it was a yokai epidemic. Spirits taking on the form of beautiful women to seduce the locals and feed upon their energies. As a young but promising Onmyoji at court, Kunikida was sent in to deal with the mess.

Kunikida wasn’t too happy about this. For one thing, it cut into his already established schedule. “But I must do my job,” he told himself as he set off. The journey was long, the road hard; and when Kunikida arrived, he found the locals scared and mistrustful of “the man from the capital”. Ignoring this lack of a warm welcome – welcomes were irrelevant to his job, after all – he set about gathering information, determining that the yokai were likeliest to appear in the surrounding forest late at night.

And so that night, as the full moon rose, Kunikida set off into the forest.

The chittering and cries of woodland creatures filled the air; the rustle and sigh of the trees set his teeth on edge. He could appreciate the beauty of nature as much as the next man, but the fact was obvious that finding anything in there would be like searching for a needle in a haystack.

“I mustn't let petty things bother me,” he told himself sternly. “My job is to protect the locals from the yokai. If it takes time, then so be it.”

A faint sound came to his ears, different from the muted din of the forest. It was laughter. Women’s laughter.

Kunikida paused, ears prickling. There was the faint splashing of water, the murmur of the breeze... and another silvery peal of laughter from his right.

Dropping to his haunches, he crept along towards the source of the sound. Beyond a tall thicket was a large clearing with a small pond. Several women sat in a circle upon the dew-strewn grass, laughing and playing with a silver ball.

Yokai.

They couldn’t be anything else. Their skin was translucent, their shining hair loose, their nails a little too long to be normal. Kunikida drew a sharp breath and made to begin the dispelling incantation. But before he could do so, the yokais’ heads snapped towards him. Quick as a flash, they fled into the forest.

“Damn it!”

Kunikida chased after them. They’d run off in different directions, so he chose the one at random, reciting the incantation under his breath. Something caught at his foot, however, sending him crashing to the ground. A shadow fell over him. He looked up. One of the yokai stood over him, draped in a blood-red kimono.

You.

Your hair shadowed your face, your eyes gleaming with a strange light. Before Kunikida could do anything - before he could move or even think - you leaned over him and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

Time stopped.

Your lips were soft and sweet against his, as delicate as a rosebud in its first bloom. You smelled of sandalwood and spices, overpowering his senses. The world darkened for a minute, fading away before your beauty and brilliance; he closed his eyes, letting the ecstasy take him.

When he opened his eyes, you were gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kunikida returned to his quarters in a daze.

‘It seems that the yokai got the best of me,’ he wrote in his notebook, as the rising sun lightened the skies. ‘Everything after the... encounter is a blur. I must be more wary of them in the future.’

Then he closed his notebook and sat staring out the window.

He could remember everything quite vividly - your scent, the colour of your hair, the feel of his skin against his own. His cheeks reddened even now as he recalled just how sweet the kiss had felt. The villagers had given him a place at the very edge of the village, little more than a shack that overlooked the forest. As he eyed the trees, he imagined you kissing another man that same way.

Irritation pricked at him, sudden and sharp. He bit his lip and reopened his notebook.

‘The locals are in grave danger,’ he wrote. ‘Until these yokai are expelled. It could be that the woman I met - the yokai I met - was preternaturally strong, but until there is evidence to the contrary, I must assume her strength as an average of their power. And... she did have power. I can still feel her enchantment upon me. I have the training to understand it for what it is, but others may not be so lucky.’

He closed his notebook again, tracing the “Ideal” written on the cover. Kunikida didn’t want anyone to get hurt, not when he could stop the cause. Yet for some reason, coming face to face with you terrified him in a way few things ever had. He’d faced demons before, but never once had they held any sway upon him.

“It is only an enchantment,” he muttered, rubbing his forehead. “I should cleanse myself, and cast more wards to protect myself against future attacks. Running away is not an option, of course.”

But an entire morning performing prayers and rituals did little to drive you from his thoughts. By midday, he irritably decided that he’d done enough to protect himself, and stomped off into the forest to begin tracking you and your friends down. He searched and searched and searched, driven by a manic energy he couldn’t quite explain - he tried to convince himself that it was only his impatience, but some other emotion lingered at the back of his mind that he didn’t want to think about - until the sun disappeared and the moon reigned over the sky. Sweaty and exhausted, Kunikida came to an old torii and sank down upon the steps leading up to the shrine.

“This is ridiculous,” he huffed. “Her signs are everywhere.”

“Who are you talking to?”

Kunikida tensed, then turned. There, up on the steps framed by the full moon, you stood triumphant.

“Hello,” you called. You’ve returned, Diviner.”

“I have,” he said, ignoring the fluttering in his heart.

“Come back for a more?”

“No.” His face heated up. “I am here to banish you and your friends to the Underworld.”

Really?”

There was a teasing note in your voice. Kunikida’s heart skipped a beat, and he clutched the talisman under his shirt. You were working your power on him again. He could feel it, by the way his heart was drawn to yours. “Enough of this,” he said, raising his hand to perform the necessary mudra.

“Sounds like entirely too much effort.”

You came closer, a coy smile playing about your lips. You were just as lovely as he remembered, a being of moonlight and the autumn air; he wanted to reach out and touch you, to see if you were real or a figment of his imagination. Reluctance seized him, making him pause his chant. 

“Stay back,” he said, his throat dry. “I am not afraid of you.”

“I don’t think its fear that’s stopping you.”

You brushed your knuckles against his cheek. Kunikida tilted his head towards your hand, taking in the warmth and pressure of your skin against his own. Slowly, gently, even unwillingly, he reached up and cupped your hand with his own.

“Come with me,” you whispered, taking his hand.

It was wrong. Kunikida knew it was wrong. But a veil of madness seemed to have descended upon his mind, clouding it with a miasma of delight. Vaguely, he was aware of you leading him away into the forest; then, your arms were around his neck, your lips on his, your body pressed against his own. Your tongue darted into his mouth, and he moaned.

He let you push him to the ground, straddling him. Swiftly, you slipped off your kimono, allowing him to gaze greedily upon your unclothed form.

“This is wrong,” he whispered.

“Hush,” you said, placing your hands upon his bare chest. “Do you want me?”

He looked at you. “Yes.”

You smiled and let him take you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It became a routine, a secret, shameful addiction. Every night, Kunikida would return, drawn to you like a moth to a flame. Each night, he would surrender himself to you, losing himself in a haze of ecstasy and delight that lasted until morning. All that passed in between was a blur - your body beneath him, your head thrown back, your body writhing with pure, unadulterated pleasure - dreams more suited to a teenage boy than a full-grown man. He would press entreaties and hopes upon your skin, babbling to you for hours about his ideals, his hopes and his dreams, all those things that he would never reveal to other humans.

During the mornings, however, shame would overwhelm him. He was failing his duty, failing the people who’d placed his trust upon him. He would spend hours praying and trying to cleanse himself, even while thoughts of you danced around in his mind. On top of that, his strength was failing, reminding him that no matter how soft and sweet you seemed, you were still a yokai feeding off of him. But through the shame and self-loathing, a darker side of him started to emerge. A part that no longer cared about his failing duty, that was proud of the fact that you fed upon him alone. The thought of you taking another lover made his blood boil.

‘I need to put a stop to all of it,’ he wrote feverishly in his notebook. ‘These women – these yokai – they cannot be allowed to harm the people any longer. I cannot allow it.’

But at the same time, he didn’t want it all to end. When was the last time he’d ever felt this happy – this alive? You were everything. The beat in his veins, the breath in his lungs, the fire in his heart. You made him feel alive, in a way no one else ever could.

A dark thought began to coalesce in head, one that scared him to even put on paper.

“You’ve been here a while now,” you said to him one night as the two of you lay upon the forest floor. “The moon was full the first night we met, and its full now. I thought you wanted to banish me and my sisters, Diviner?’

“I did,” Kunikida said slowly, gazing up at the sky. “You know full well what you’re doing, [Y/N].”

“I didn’t realize just how good I am,” you said with a small laugh. “But really, if you can’t handle it, then you should go back to the capital. You won’t last long if you stay with me.”

“Why?” he said with a sudden twinge of panic. “Are you tired of me? Is there someone else whose energy you prefer?”

“No, no, that’s not it,” you said quickly, ruffling his hair. “But if you stay with me any longer, you’ll die. I don’t want that.”

“No?”

His heart soared at your words. But you simply shrugged and continued. “Me and my sisters... we don’t want to kill humans, we don’t hate them. But humans are too frail, they die too easily. Its an unfortunate reality of this world.”

Kunikida propped himself up on one elbow to look at you. You were still as beautiful as ever, but there was more to you now: you were graceful, kind and understanding, beyond what any human woman could ever hope to be.

Ideal. You were his ideal woman.

And you wanted to leave him.

“Even if you don’t voluntarily kill them, you’re still a threat,” he said, pursing his lips. “I can’t leave until I banish you all.”

“Then do it.”

“What?”

You shrugged. “This world isn’t fun any more. Its too grey, too depressing. And like I said, humans are too fragile. I-” you took his hand, pressing it to your chest- “will miss you. But if you care about me, please give me and my sisters with safe passage to the Underworld.”

No. No, no, no. Kunikida wanted to scream. He opened his mouth, then paused upon noting the troubled look in your eyes. “I see,” he said instead, schooling his face into a mask of indifference.

“Are you all right with that?” you asked.

“I’ll be fine. I just... wish you hadn’t tired of me.”

“Kunikida-”

“I will do what you ask,” he interrupted. “Just give me till tomorrow. Its the full moon, right? It’ll be a good night for the ceremony.”

You fell silent, but he could see the relief in your eyes. Revulsion roiled within him at what he had become, but he was too far gone to back down now.

“Tomorrow,” he repeated. “I will open the gates to the Underworld.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You felt nervous. Your sisters milled about inside the shrine, just where you’d promised Kunikida you’d be. Though the autumn moon was full tonight, its full splendour was masked by the clouds - a bad omen if you’d ever saw one.

He had to be here. You didn’t know how to get to the Underworld by yourself, an oversight you were bitterly regretting now. There was much to regret about your ill-planned excursion, the chief of which was your dalliance with Kunikida. He was a strong Diviner, with an iron will; far more than what you’d thought you could handle.

 There were footsteps outside. Tension tightened in your stomach like a bowstring. Kunikida appeared in the door, and you let out a sigh of relief.

“Kunikida,” you said, hurrying to him. “Thank you for coming.”

“I said that I would be here,” he answered. “You need my help, don’t you.”

His face was pale and hard, his expression set. Looking at him, you felt another twinge of anxiety. “Are you sure you will be all right?” you asked. “We’ve had a rather intense time together.”

“I’ll be fine.” He gestured for you to join your sisters. You went to them, watching him in silence as he began the ritual to open the gates of the Underworld. You still weren’t sure of his feelings - Kunikida was difficult to read, even for a human. One moment he could be soft and kind, the stoic and harsh. Either way, you were glad to be going home.

A blinding light emanated from the floor as the gates began to open. Your sisters cheered up, hurrying to pass to the other side. You made to pass through as well, when Kunikida called out to you.

“[Y/N]”

You paused and looked at him. There was raw pain etched upon his face.

“I’m sorry,” you said, helplessly. “I wish we hadn’t come here. I wish I hadn’t put you through everything. You weren’t supposed to, you know. Most people are so badly affected by being around us that they don’t even think of crossing our path again.”

“I know.” He held out his hand. “Just... please let me touch you one more time.”

You hesitated. Surely no harm could come from that? Cautiously, you reached out to him, intending to do no more than to pat his hand.

He grabbed your wrist.

The gate slammed shut.

Darkness fell as the light was cut off.

“What—agh!”

You scream as plain lancinated up your arm, spreading through your body in wracking waves. You collapsed to your knees, barely able to think or scream, as your power was ripped from you.

“I’m sorry.” Kunikida knelt next to you, his expression pained. “But I had to do what was necessary.”

Wrenching your eyes away from him to his hand. There was a small woodblock stamp hidden in his palm, a binding symbol carved upon it. There was a corresponding symbol stamped upon your wrist.

“You—” you grimaced. “You’ve bound me.”

“I have.” Quickly, he wrenched your kimono off of you. “I’m sorry, but I cannot let you go. You have to stay with me forever.”

“I—”

“I will not allow anything else.”

He pulled a rough, homespun robe upon your shoulders. Human clothes. As the pain began to subside, the realization of what he was doing – of what he’d done – dawned upon you..

“No.” You weakly tried to push him away, tears welling in your eyes. “No, I won’t let you!”

“Let me?” Kunikida’s expression hardened. Pain flared once again in your head, making you scream. “There isn’t anything you can do to stop me.”

“But why? I thought you wanted to be rid of me!”

He shook his head, eyes dark, pulling into a smothering embrace. “[Y/N], I love you. I never want to be rid of you again.”

[sad-stucky-shipper-107]

The tusken massacre controversial take (both sides)

tw: mentions of rape, torture & racism

People WILL probably block me for this but IDC because I went up ahead and read up on the tuskens on the official Wiki and while I definitely DO see how it could be interpreted as racism (I genuinely believe Lucas Did Not mean for it to be read as such) . But. BUT.

I'm not saying the murder of the tuskens was "justified" but it was definitely a much. much. more complicated situation than people make it out to be. It is CANON that Tuskens are mistrustful to the point of Xenophobia of the other settlers on the planet, settlers who by this point have been there for generations. So the argument has to be made that their culture and traditions would NOT change overnight if at all. And therefore Anakin was right about one thing, (and I am willing to die on this hill.) the tusken children Would have grown up to be the same torturers and killers (possibly rapists, there were very few reasons for them to keep Shmi alive and none of them good)

Now, am I saying that killing children for something they might do or in this case Will do in the future is wrong? I'll be very honest, im only 70% sure my answer would be a definitive No. The other 30% is genuinely considering it. I cannot comment upon the female tuskens as there is literally almost NOTHING about them in Canon verse and so I know nothing about how culpable they are in this. But motherfucker NEITHER DO YOU.

Anyway yeah there are many tribes of tusken and some of them peaceful but this one was Definitely Not. We were sown this. This wasn't a matter of racism. this was a matter of Murderous, Torturing, Kidnappers. Who kidnapped and possibly raped this guy's mother.

Fact: Shmi was an innocent woman who had done NOTHING to the tusken

Fact: She was tortured at their hands for days

Fact: If someone did that to my mom, I'd be pretty murderous too especially if someone had been grooming (palpatine) me to give into my worst nature from age 9.

Idk man, things are definitely not as black and white as we are making them out to be. On EITHER SIDE. And if we're talking about bringing up the consequences of his actions before the senate? Most of them are not Nearly empathetic enough even give a fuck. They need the Hero With No Fear too much and even if they didn't they would NOT give a fuck. The jedi council definitely would but they would ALSO debate this, like a LOT.

EDIT: ALSO ALSO, ONE MORE HLL I'LL DIE ON, ITS MENTIONED IN WOOKIEPEDIEA THAT 1 TRIBE WAS A COMMUNITY OF 20-30 PEOPLE, STOP CALLING IT A FUCKING GENOCIDE. IT WAS A MASSACRE. IT WAS A FUCKING MASSACRE WHICH WAS UNACCEPTABLE BUT IT WAS VERY DIFFERENT FROM A GENOCIDE.

Edit 2: The tuskens also engaged in slavery. Definitely not the "🥺 innocents" people make them out to be.

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

31st Story

Part 2

TW: Captivity, implied past torture, blood mention, restraints, mistrust, starvation mention, defiant whumpee, corrupt system, knife

Heyyy! Long-time no see. I blame college 100% because it takes up all my time, seriously. Happy New Year tho 💙

Villain could tell himself he was already used to the cold, hard embrace of the dull rock of his cell, to the claustrophobia-inducing lack of windows, to the fact that the only times he ever got to see the light was when someone walked in to beat him senseless, a feat made incredibly easy with the help of the chains that shackled his wrists and ankles, not allowing for much movement.

He could pretend that being covered in blood and filth, dazed and starving, was nothing to him, that the maddening urge to find out what time it was wasn't gnawing at him torturously.

"In here, wishful thinking is all you are capable of," a sunken-faced, old prisoner had told him before he was thrown into his personal hellhole. He hadn't said anything, but he'd believed the old hag to be weak and hopeless, and thus so was her sentiment.

Right now, all he wondered was if he'd break even faster than that woman might have. The villain screwed his eyes shut, hoping it would stop the chain of thoughts poisoning his mind, but all that did was make him think clearer, every disturbing image he tried so desperately to expel growing clearer and more vivid by the moment.

It was bad enough handling the physical pain, where every time he so much as shifted his form slightly, the tormented muscles in his back would scream in protest. But the physical side was tolerable, compared to being left at the mercy of his mind; a cruel, sinister thing.

So consumed he was in his own reverie, he hadn't even noticed as the door to his cell was unlocked, at least not until the light skirting around the corner had him snapping his eyes open and sitting up.

"This doesn't look good on you," a silky, almost serpentine voice called out.

"Superhero?" he asked, despising the note of trepidation in his voice.

"No. Just her lacklustre twin," she scoffed.

"Vigilante," he deduced with a slight fall of his shoulders in relief. It's not that he believed Vigilante would treat him well, it's just that no one could rival Superhero in cruelty.

"Still ever the genius," she responded dryly.

"What do you want?" he asked, almost desperate. If she was here to torment him, he wanted her to get over with it. It was becoming progressively more difficult to bear the state in which he was in, the one chock-full of waiting and thinning patience, of hoping the pain would start so it could end, that this time would pass faster.

Except it never did.

"It's strange seeing someone normally so high and mighty like this," she attested, dodging his question.

The older version of him would have let out a frustrated snarl and cussed her out for annoying him, but now all he could do was bite his tongue and stare at her with his new resting face, broken and defeated.

"Well, I'm not here to hurt you," she said, folding her arms across her chest.

That was a response, albeit an indirect one. And of course, she wasn't here to hurt him. She was here to make sure he was comfortable, that he was enjoying his five-star stay in this resort in hell.

Sucks to have an army of enemies and not a single semblance of a friend.

He and Vigilante hadn't really had any direct bad blood, but he was a villain locked up in here, so by default, he was supposed to be her enemy, right? It didn't matter who walked in here or whether they knew him or not. They just loved to see him break, to see him, once so relentlessly powerful, reduced to less than nothing. Perhaps it brought them a sort of sick satisfaction, but he didn't know much about satisfaction anymore to judge.

"I'm going to get you out of here," she said casually, like promising him the impossible was some sort of small punishment, nothing to tear himself up about. Maybe she could rival her sister in cruelty.

Without warning, a hysterical laugh escaped his throat, only for him to bite his lip and stop abruptly, trying to clamp a hand over his mouth only for him to remember he was chained up.

Vigilante's face fell, and his own had silent tears streaming down it. He felt as though he couldn't breathe, as though bricks were raining down on his shoulders and crushing his bones into nothing. His whole being seemed to itch with dread.

"Villain?" Vigilante called out, looking a mixture of confused and horrified.

"Just get over with it! Torture me until the floor runs red with my blood, tell me how death is a mercy above vermin like myself, and tell me to take it with a smile. Hit me harder when I can't bring myself to do it. Hit me until I feel all the pain of death but never attain it. Remember my current words as defiance, as another crime I've committed. I think watching me be humbled to the nothing I truly am will entertain you as any show would," he spat, only for regret to colour his features just as fast.

"Damn it. Villain, I don't want to do. . .any of this to you," Vigilante started, careful, trying for a semblance of gentle, something she was never particularly good at. "Like I said, I'm going to get you out of here," she continued again, hoping the stern tone indicated she was serious and not somehow going to torture him.

She'd never particularly liked him, mainly because he'd always been ice-cold, calculated to a point he seemed inhuman at times, no emotion whatsoever showing up on his face, besides a cool smugness. And by virtue of all the terrible things he'd done, all the blood on his hands. And yet, he was far from the worst thing out there, and most definitely not the villain in her story.

"And let's pretend you're telling the truth, which is completely fine by me because any mercy I've ever had here has always been a pretence, a figment of my imagination, you know. What could you possibly gain from this?" He raised an eyebrow, bearing a small resemblance to his usual self. Well, at least there was a slight amount of fight left in him, even if he was clearly holding back tears now.

But the villain's question wasn't completely outlandish. Vigilante did want something from him, but it wasn't a favour he would ever come to hate. "I need your help. My sister may seem like the goddamn tooth fairy to those who don't know better, but we know what her regime is really doing. This isn't about fighting crime, it's about her insatiable addiction to power."

"And where do I belong here?" The villain's voice still held the same disbelieving tone, his shoulders managing to tense even further.

"You're one of the few people who challenged her, Villain. And as much as it pains me to say it, you're a good strategist," she explained, even though she knew she'd barely convinced him in the slightest.

"I can't be the only one fitting that description, but I can be the only one owing you a favour too," he answered. Even if he didn't look half as confident, half as untouchable as before, the criminal was still just as clever. But it also meant he wasn't believing her anytime soon. Still, he wasn't wrong. The villain may not have smelled like roses all the time, but he'd be loyal to make sure they were even; a man of his word.

"What's it gonna be, Villain? Come with me or stay here?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest, growing impatient.

Well, it didn't make sense for her to give him a choice if she was going to torture him, but sense no longer governed things in his mind, letting a fearful apprehension replace it, no matter how humiliating. The choice could easily be an illusion, another cruel joke in this comedy skit from the filthiest parts of hell.

But it could be a chance, and he was desperate. So desperate he'd risk feeling even further degraded when she laughed in his face and put him through whatever torment she'd have planned.

"Fine," he answered, looking up at her with trepidation in his eyes. He could already feel the regret tasting like salt on his tongue and the burn of acid at the back of his throat he recognised as shame.

So when the sound of his chains being unlocked rang in his ears, and the vigilante helped him up, the feeling of surprise was palpable.

"I just need to handcuff you while they can see us," she explained, noticing how slowly the villain nodded, mistrust still burning in his eyes.

She didn't like how weightless he seemed against her, barely able to walk. She hadn't fought him much, but she clearly remembered that while his frame was somewhat slender, the villain's build still used to be athletic. It was no surprise he'd deteriorated, but that didn't make his fate any less cruel.

"I'm moving him to the other facility," she announced, practically dragging the half-starved villain with her, the only response being curt nods from the guards.

They were lucky that no one here would dare question Superhero and by default, her sister, if they could even tell the difference between both.

And sure enough, there was an entry documented into the other facility, done with the help of a few handsomely paid workers. And while Superhero wouldn't buy into the lie for long, it would at least make sure she didn’t notice immediately that something was up.

✨️Break✨️

The drive to Vigilante's house was almost torturously long and reeking of the tension of two people who weren't used to each other. The villain ran his fingers over his wrists, now free of handcuffs, but they still hurt. All of him hurt, a constant, dull pain that he was almost used to, but that didn't mean he didn't miss the times where he could remember moments without aches all over his body.

That was only the least of it anyway.

"I think you'd want to clean up," the vigilante had suggested when they'd got to her house.

Instead of an off-hand "yeah" like he'd meant to, the first words that foolishly came tumbling out of his mouth were: "I can?"

This wasn't an option they gave him back there, and soon enough he'd stopped caring entirely.

"Oh," Vigilante had responded, giving him a solemn look. "I mean, yes, of course you can," she corrected hastily.

He nodded, quite literally shoving himself into the bathroom and swallowing down the awkward shame in his throat.

He'd grown so accustomed to pain that he'd barely even noticed the sting of the hot water on his open, practically fresh wounds, or how the shower water underneath him turned a dull pink. He was a lot more focused on how his sore muscles relaxed with the heat, how he seemed to get lighter with all the dirt off him, good sensations having become foreign to him in the time of his captivity.

He walked out to find a change of clothes (his clothes) on the bed in the room outside, catching his reflection in the mirror, bruises lining his cheekbones and jaw and heavy, dark circles underneath his eyes. The villain simply ignored the old memories of himself taking the time to style his hair and care for his skin, his mind hardwired for survival, looking around the room for anything he could use in case he had to defend himself.

Not that Vigilante was stupid enough for that.

Still, if she wished to hurt him, she could've done it faster, could've done it earlier. Maybe the villain wouldn't trust her blindly, but so far, he hated her less bitterly than he hated everyone else.

"How'd you get these?" he asked, walking out, looking down at the black zip-up hoodie and black sweats.

Vigilante shrugged. "From your place."

"You broke into my- whatever." It wasn't the strangest part about the situation now. "What are we supposed to do?"

"I think you need to rest," she suggested.

And she was entirely correct, given his exhaustion and how the shower had made him somewhat sleepy, so he nodded his head, walking into "his" room and waiting until she walked up to her room, waiting until he could walk out and check if she'd slept, and once he was sure, he walked into the kitchen, picking up a knife and bringing it to his room.

The villain knew it was scummy, but he wasn't about to risk being hurt again, and if the vigilante truly had good intentions, the knife would never be put to use. Still, the villain had managed to fall into a fitful sleep, still better than any night he spent curled up on a cold, hard floor.

Trust is never easy, especially for those who have been hurt one too many times. But people were not made to live forever encased in solitude, a safe option to the blind and foolish, but never a permanent solution. And while taking a risk in times of suffering might seem like a wretched fate, sometimes it is the lifeline you need to breathe again.

✨️Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-interactions @enbious-prince @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @a-fucking-simp-00 @addictedsandwhichaki @justalittlecorrupted @quaggasus @theangstyclown @vernilliom @mothmancommitsarson @starssabove @kurai-hono-blog @talkingsperm @muffinrebel44 @sunnynwanda @annablogsposts @cardboardarsonist @itsmyworld23 @onlywhump @m3rakii @crotchgoblin69 @wtfevenisausername @pendarling @avloki-pal @kaiwewi @those-damn-snippets @genuinelythioehat-is-whump @ghostofnorth

Wanna be on the taglist? This'll take you there!