“Oh my god—“
“Not quite, love” The antagonist smirked. “If you ask nicely, however, I may be inclined to play along.”
“You’re—“
“A villain, yes.”
The protagonist tried to stop their hands from shaking as the antagonist looked them up and down.
“Why are you in my neighborhood bodega?” The protagonist said finally, and the villain quirked a brow.
“Even famous people need to eat,” the antagonist tucked their hands into their exquisitely tailored suit.
The bag of chips in the protagonists grip crinkled, and the villain inspected them.
“Not the healthiest choice.”
They gave an unamused laugh. “The cheapest.”
The antagonist’s eyes ran over their face, as if taking in their slightly gaunt cheeks.
“Heroism doesn’t pay well, it seems.”
The protagonist looked them up and down.
“Villainy does, it seems.”
At that, the antagonist chuckled, eyes glimmering like they had finally found something to peak their interest.
Behind them, the check out counter beeped and spit out a receipt, which the antagonist promptly crumpled and threw away.
“I’ll be watching,” they said with a nonchalance that did not match the threat of stalking, and disappeared out the sliding doors.
The protagonist stood in front of the machine, slightly awe struck and slightly afraid, until a clerk sidled up to them.
“Old friend?” The clerk asked.
The protagonist glanced over at them, then back towards the door.
“Not quite,” they answered.
They paid for their chips and left, hands pink with cold by the time they got to their apartment.
Attached to their door was an cream colored envelope full of money, and a note in elegant handwriting that simply said “Buy yourself more groceries. Your fridge is a tragedy.”
The protagonist never quite got rid of the antagonist after that.
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When I browse around hypnokink Tumblr I often see such delightful posts about slipping past people's defenses and emptying out their minds until they are open and exposed and easily guided into whatever the hypnotist wishes.
I truly enjoy such posts, though more often than not they slip into undressing and physical seduction that grows far too erotic for my asexual tastes...
Rather than be a wet blanket I have chosen to now read those carnal desires with a wicked grin.
I simply imagine a scenario of a needy whimpering hypnotee begging with lustful abandon and not even realizing as my words slip past their critical mind, gently slide in the tumblers of their mind and undo them, leaving them blank, malleable, biddable, pliable, vapid, empty and oh so void.
Then and only then would I take my needy and docile plaything and charge all of that lusty and needy energy and turn it into affection and adoration. I wish to enchant them and claim all of that desire and turn it to soft, gentle tenderness. I don't want to bend you over and use you, oh no... no, no, no. I want to bend your will and have you snuggle against me. I want you laying your head on my impossibly soft lap as I play with your hair with one hand and read a book with the other. I care not for sluts unless they are snuggle sluts.
I do not want your body, I can clearly take your mind. No, I want, just for a few lovely moments? Your heart.
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gentle things that makes me fall harder in love:
( feel free to use <3 @urfriendlywriter 5th, 6th, 7th and 11th omgg tag me when yall writeeee )
nuzzling their face in your crook while hugging :/
delicate touches !
kissing so so slowly, fingers lazily brushing your jaw, softly gasping for more.
finding them watching you with a fond smile </3
kissing the corners of your lover's lips as they smile :((
pulling away from a kiss because neither of you can't stop smiling !!!
hugging your lover during their difficult time, and they hug you back tighter :(
always knows the loveliest things to say.
needing to tiptoe when kissing their forehead >\\<
holding their hand when they're stressed
quick kiss on their cheek, but they pull your hand to hold you closer to them to avoid you escaping (i. I am- I'M- °\\°)
when they're eagerly waiting for you to feed them the first bite
giving in to do whatever they want since they look super adorable
lying on their chest while they tell you about their day
glancing at you but immediately looking away when you catch them
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why must i think of prisoners Ranger!Steve and Bard!Eddie so constantly and why must they be so tender and why hhhh
Steve’s whole body is made of pain, and has been for the past few days. His feet are aching and raw from trying to keep up as they were bound to horses and dragged along. His skin is chafed and bleeding where the unforgiving rocks have managed to destroy his clothes after one too many falls, and every smallest of cuts feels like his body is nothing more than a pulsating mess.
Worst of all, though, is the dizziness. He doesn’t know if his head is still bleeding or if the wetness he can feel running down his temple is his body’s testament to the unfamiliar heat, but it wouldn’t make a difference anyway.
There’s only pain. And nausea. His eyes are open but he needs a second to understand what he’s seeing — and what he’s seeing is a ceiling made of sand coloured stone. Distantly, he hears a door clanging shut, but that might just as well be a memory.
He’s going to throw up. Tough luck when you don’t even know where up is.
A groan leaves his mouth as he tries to take a deep breath and fails miserably. Instead, he can add two broken ribs to the list of misery.
Gods above — whichever of them are listening — he’s tired. But he fears that if he closes his eyes, he might not open them anymore for the sheer release that would bring. He can’t sleep, can’t rest, not when—
“Easy now,” a gentle voice interrupts his less than coherent thoughts and just moments later, a tender hand is combing through his blood-crusted hair. “You shouldn’t move, my friend. There’s nowhere to move to anymore.”
Steve frowns, his brain trying and failing to provide any information at this point. The hits to his head must have been worse than he thought if his short term memory refuses to work with him anymore.
“We have reached Capital City,” the voice continues and Steve has to blink the fog away to make out its owner. When he does, it must show in his eyes, for the worry in Theodore Munson’s eyes makes way to the briefest of smiles before returning even stronger than before. “Do you not recall?”
Steve just stares up at him. That’s all his wrecked body and mind allow him to do right now. That’s all they want to do when gentle hands comb through his hair and chase away some of the pain.
It is then that reality slowly comes back to him and he realises where he is. Where they are. What is at stake if they fail any more, if they decide to torture information on Elanor and William out of them — out of him. He’s not sure how much he can take. They have been held prisoner for weeks. Steve has been hurting for even longer.
Shame rises in him and he has the urge to apologise to Jim, to explain, but moving his head to the side, he sees that his old master isn’t any better off. He appears to be sleeping, his face bruised, and a teary-eyed Maxine is wiping blood away from his face with a piece of her cloak.
Steve blinks once, twice, and takes in the man who practically raised him, watches the steady rise and fall of his chest and listens, beyond the pulsing rush of his own blood, that his lungs are not rattling. Shame makes way to satisfaction when he sees that none of their party has taken as many hits, kicks and punches as himself. His distractions have worked, then.
That’s good. Now if only they didn’t make him so nauseous. So tired. So…
“Don’t fall asleep, Steven,” Eddie demands, and the world tilts slightly, which makes everything worse until… soft. It’s softer now.
Eddie has moved him so his head is resting in his lap now.
“You don’t look too good, Ranger. Sleep is dangerous in your state, no matter how badly you might need it. Give it a few hours, please.”
A beat passes where Steve tries to process the words that are just too many. Since when does Eddie talk with him so much?
“Lies,” he says after a while and with greater effort than should be necessary.
“Lies?”
“I look very good. You just can’t see it under all the blood and the bruises.” He tries to crack a smile, but even the huffed breath jolts his head too much.
Eddie does him the favour of a brief chuckle, and Steve feels better for it. Lighter. Light is good, he finds. Maybe all he has to focus on is Eddie and his hands working out the clumps of dirt and blood from his hair, maybe all he has to to is make him smile and the world will be a bit less painful.
His world narrows down to all the ways Eddie is close to him and it does keep him occupied, but it also gets his mind wandering, the adrenaline of the past days wearing off.
“Keep doing that and I will fall asleep,” he says after another beat of silence. Fall asleep and dream. Dream of what this could mean. Dream of smiles that make me feel lighter.
“Keep doing what?” Eddie asks, and Steve senses a trick to just keep him talking, no matter how slurred his speech is. He needs a moment to remember what he said.
“This,” he says eventually, and Eddie only hums. Finding words is hard. He tries. And tries again. “Being gentle.”
Another smile, and Steve wants to close his eyes to keep it there to hold on to. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, my friend.”
“Can’t not be gentle?” He’s losing force on the consonants. The pain is getting stronger, his nerve endings more frayed and his vision blurry. This is familiar. He gives himself another quarter of an hour at most before he will lose his consciousness, no matter how hard he tries to stay here. With Eddie and his wavering smile.
“Not with my friends, no.”
This time it’s Steve who smiles at the word friends. He likes to be Eddie’s friend. The man, as it turns out, is admirable, he’s strong, he’s wise when he wants to be and gentle with young Maxine. He’s kind, he’s quick-witted and patient, and his hands are impossibly soft.
“I know you said not to sleep, and I’m not normally one to deny a well-respected bard’s command, but…” He swallows. Words are hard. He’s not sure they come out as planned, but he perseveres. “I’m afraid I have to prove to you now just how stubborn the Queen’s Rangers can be.”
Another hum from above him and Steve opens his eyes he hadn’t even noticed closing. The world is fading, but still Eddie is at its centre.
“I’ll be here when you wake up, then, stubborn Ranger.”
Will you smile at me still? Steve wonders.
“Always,” Eddie says, but before Steve has time to wonder if someone else has said something, darkness has swallowed him whole.
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