Rp/ blog for the FFXIV character Sumire Mol, a half-Xaela, Raen Pugilist/Healer with a love of beautiful scenery and ever occuring dreams of a faraway world. Mids Server.Â
Heroes of our times: this woman who stopped shaving, plucking, moisturizing, fixing her hair and applying make-up because her douche boyfriend kept complaining she spent too much time in the bathroom and YOU WONâT BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENED NEXT.
[Spoiler: he learned women donât actually âlook like thatâ and tried to force her to âtake care of herselfâ again, while she realized she was wasting so. much. time. and is now living her best hairy, unplucked, unmoisturized, unblow-dried and unlipsticked life. Truly a blessèd day.]
 Pst, hey you, yeah the writer reading this. Youâre brainâs been lying to you, friend, youâre not as bad of a writer as you think you are. In fact, thereâs probably someone around here who admires your writing and loves your characters. So keep going! :D
content/warnings: hero and villain dynamic, captor and prisoner dynamic, non/dubious-consensual touching
words: 1352
prompt/based on: @gingerly-writingâs #2960
Kneel There, Look Pretty
âNow,â the villain murmured quietly, âyouâre going to kneel here beside my throne, and look pretty in your collar and your bruises. If you behave, I will reward you. If you fail...neither of us will enjoy the consequences. Understood?â
Their prisoner, once a hero, nodded slowly. The villain caressed their bare shoulder gently, pressed a kiss against their forehead.
âGood. I wouldnât want to have to punish you again. Not so soon.â
The prisoner knelt reluctantly, hands itching at their collar. The villain saw it, frowning.
âItâs not hurting you. Stop.â The prisoner pulled their hands away, folding them in their lap. A moment later, they were plucking at the seams of their trousers.
âYou have ten seconds,â the villain warned them as a servant left to bring in the other villain. They took a deep breath, calming themself in an attempt to still their body.
The doors to the throne room opened.
The servant announced the villain, but the prisoner didnât look up. They knew who they would see, a face they hated almost more than the villain who had turned them into a decoration for their throne room.
They didnât look up when the other villain commented on it, as degrading as they knew how to be. They didnât look up when their captorâs hand reached down to stroke their hair. They knew that if they did, they would not be able to maintain any control over themself, in the presence of two people every instinct made them want to fight.
They could not stop themself listening to the conversation, hearing the two villains talking around plans for horrible, despicable atrocities. They tried to remember everything that was said, in the vague hope that they might be able to pass it on somehow. Their captor was paying them no attention, they thought, even with one hand still touching them at odd moments. It was a surprise when two fingers hooked the back of their collar in what felt like a warning, or a reprimand, but they had been doing well at not reacting to everything that had been saidâŚ
It made sense a moment later, when their captor casually mentioned their long-time partner. They bit the inside of their lip, hard, and the grip on their collar tightened, uncomfortably tight on the front of their throat. The other villain laughed, mocking them without a care, and the two fingers were replaced by four. They realised that their captor was clenching their fist, which had the direct and painful effect of constricting their airways.
They were almost grateful for it a moment later, when the villain suggested they assassinate their partner- their best friend- without hesitation. It would be the easiest thing, they said, outlining their plan coldly, and the prisoner heard their captor agree. Their struggle for breath and the hand in their collar was the only thing that kept them from crying out, from standing and fighting until inevitably they fell again. Their captor unclenched their fist, allowing them more air, but the hand was still there, a warning weight if not a comforting one.
The conversation shifted. The two villainsâ plans no longer involved the people the prisoner was closest to, and the fingers slipped out again. Instead of leaving entirely, they curled around the nape of their neck, a caress that could mean anything or nothing at all. They recovered their breath slowly, trying not to draw attention from the other villain and mostly succeeding.
From there, it was easier. Not easy, listening to two villains plotting and laughing and having to shut up and kneel and look pretty, but easier than listening to them plotting the murder of their best friend. They promised themself that they would stop it happening somehow, whatever that meant for their tenuous relationship with their captor far less important than saving their partner. And if they escaped, it wouldnât be a problem. They would be able to protect their friends again, fight with them, and stop the villain once and for all.
Their mind-wandering was cut off sharply by the other villain leaving, with both villains having parts to play in their upcoming plans. Their captor sighed when the door shut, calling to the lone servant to leave. The prisoner looked up then, watching the villain sip a drink wearily. They poured another glass, but instead of drinking it themself, they offered it to the prisoner.
âYou were perfect,â they said quietly, the first words spoken directly to their prisoner since the other villain had first appeared. âI promised to reward you, and I meant it.â
Their seemingly mellow mood was enough to give the prisoner courage- perhaps too much of it. âMy knees hurt,â they said bluntly, though they were careful to keep any trace of a whine out of their tone.
âIâm sorry, love, but I wanted you there.â They looked down, towards their prisonerâs body. âYou can stand up, you know. Or sit, if you prefer.â
With an inward groan, the prisoner shifted, sitting on the step to the throne and craning their neck to look up. âTheyâre going to betray you,â they said, not sure if they cared.
The villain smiled. âNot if I betray them first. But you donât need to know about that.â
They werenât surprised. Why would they be? The villains spoke in backstabbing and betrayals, a language that the hero had never understood before they were forced to be surrounded by it.
The villain stood, but a moment later they were actually sitting next to the prisoner, shoulders touching. They didnât pull away, pouring every remaining ounce of their self-control into allowing it. The villain laughed softly a moment later. âYou want something.â
They stiffened. They did, of course, but the chances of this working⌠they were minute. They nodded anyway.
âTell me.â
âItâs [hero],â they said quietly. âYou want to- you want to murder them?â
âI donât want to,â the villain said, voice full of measured gentleness. â[Villain] does, and it works well for me.â
âPlease,â they said, voice cracking, âstop them.â
âIâm sorry.â The villain didnât say anything else. Maybe they meant it, but it wasnât enough.
âTheyâre my best friend! I was good, you said I earned somethingââ they hated reducing themself to it, even kneeling again on aching knees, but it would be worth itâ âplease, you caââ they choked themself off. They had gone perilously close to something disastrous, but they continuedâ âplease donât let [villain] kill them.â
The villain looked down at them. They realised suddenly what they were doing, kneeling and begging their captor to do what they were meant to be able to on their own, but if it worked, it would be worth every bit.
âWhat would you have me do?â the villain asked. It was a real question.
The hero frowned. It was obvious to them what to say, but it would just be another repetition. There must be another solution, something that the villain might consider but wouldnât hurt the hero.
âIf you can think of something, something that works⌠youâve earned it.â The villain seemed content to sit in silence after that, an arm wrapped around their unprotesting prisoner.
An idea came to the hero. They spoke as fast as they could, explaining it to the villain, hoping it would be enough. It was an idea that wasnât fit for a hero to use, something they would expect from a villain or anti-hero, but it would keep the heroâs partner away from the villainsâ plans enough that they didnât need to a murder.
The villain was staring at them, eyes wider than normal. They smiled suddenly, pressed an affectionate kiss against the prisonerâs forehead. âYou should do this more often. That brain was wasted as a hero, love. You were made for this.â
The thought was repulsive to the hero, but excitement won over. âWill you stop them?â they asked, almost giddy.
âIâll do everything I can,â the villain promised. And if there was one thing their prisoner believed in in this new world of villains, it was their promises.
that was one of the shortest hospital stays of my life, but the highlight of the whole event is that i got the paramedics to read homestuck and listen to lemon demon.
