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flowerandblood · 13 days

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The Fall from the Heavens (25)

[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: angst, tension, anxiety, a lot of half-truths ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard

Author note: For the purposes of this story, Lord Rodrik Arryn had a son and an heir, who in turn has a son of his own, to whom our Lady Strong was betrothed. I invented the lullaby in this chapter, so if you think it's weird, thank me, lol.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

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After what he heard, he just vomited, unable to stop the convulsions that were squeezing his stomach, the rapid pounding of his heart or his terrified, ragged breathing. He could feel tears of despair and fear running down his cheeks as he coughed once more, panting heavily over the vessel − he felt like his whole body was twitching.

You will betray her at the moment she trusts you the most.

You will achieve victory, but she will never let you touch herself again.

You will put your child inside me, your bastard son, who will rule Harrenhal after our death.

He felt his stomach twist again in pain at the mere memory – he leaned over the bowl, feeling the gag reflex shake his body once more, but nothing left his throat.

He cried out loudly as if he were a small child, covering his face with his hand, leaning over the table, thinking about how much he needed his wife right now.

How much he wanted to snuggle between her soft, sweet breasts, to feel her smooth, warm hands stroking his hair, her heart beating beneath his cheek.

He drew in a loud breath, reminding himself that he had left her alone and that any moment spent in this disgusting place could have been her last; he reached for the cup of wine, rinsed his mouth a few times and spat the contents into the bowl, washing his face with fresh water, trying to calm himself.

This was part of their game, he thought, feeling his terror slowly begin to be replaced by fury.

He was sure Larys Strong had made her say it because he wanted him to believe that what was to come was destiny, not his and his grandfather's plan.

They wanted to manipulate him, to force him to leave her, to strip her of his protection, to destroy her.

No, he thought.

He was no longer a small child.

He left the fortress feeling that he had again unwittingly become the cold, empty stone he had been for eight years when she had not been with him, recognising that he had to keep a cool head.

He could not allow himself to be weak now.

He knew that if he just looked at her, if he just saw her face again and remembered what that woman had said to him he would simply burst into sobs, so to her disappointment he pretended not to see her.

The journey to the Eyrie, although spent in full sun and short, was unbearable for him and dragged on endlessly; he felt that waves of thoughts, suppositions and versions of events flowed through his mind one after another, causing complete chaos in his head.

What if Rhaenyra did not agree despite his lie?

What if she agrees, but demands the head of his grandfather and mother?

Whoever he was, his grandfather was his kin, his blood; all his life he had fought for them and their rights even if he himself often despised him.

How should he behave in such a situation so as not to let her down?

To fight? Declare war on them? Let her decide for herself once again which side she would stand on this time?

He pressed his forehead to the front of his saddle, clenching his hands on the ropes he held in his fist, feeling that he was descending into madness.

As they landed in the valley below the fortress he slid off his saddle, thinking that he had to share his plan with her, lest she accidentally say something herself that might destroy their credibility.

"− uncle −" She began, walking towards him, her face all pink and sweaty from exertion, unruly strands of her hair clinging to her skin.

His heart pounded harder.

You will come back here to face your nephew and you will take me, because you will decide that I am similar to her enough to satisfy your pain and longing.

You will put your child inside me, your bastard son, who will rule Harrenhal after our death.

He swallowed loudly, feeling that his vision was blank, his hands clenched into fists.

"− we'll tell them you're expecting my child −" He said coolly, sidestepping her, heading ahead, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible − he heard her draw in a loud breath as she moved immediately after him, terrified, trying to keep up with him.

"− what? − Aemond, we can't lie, not now −" She muttered, clearly terrified by this vision − he pressed his lips together into a thin line, furious that she was making this all even more difficult.

"− they must agree to our terms − I will not discuss my decisions with you −" He growled impatiently and stopped when her silhouette appeared in front of him – her palms slapped against his chest, a fury in her eyes that startled him.

"− you will − you don't know them as well as you do − Daemon can sense the lie, he will see it in your eyes − do you think that once they understand that you are manipulating them they will agree to whatever conditions you set for them? −" She asked with an irritation in her voice that he didn't like; he felt a cold sweat on his neck at the unbearable thought that she was partly right.

Fuck.

He stared at her for a moment, breathing heavily, feeling like he was about to faint, another disturbing thought flashed through his mind.

What had that whore said to her?

"− that fucking witch − what did she say to you? −" He asked uneasily, wanting to be sure she wasn't trying to manipulate his wife the way she was trying to manipulate him.

His Rheanys blinked rapidly and swallowed hard, as if his question made her uncomfortable − he felt an unpleasant twinge in his stomach at the sight.

"− that we should not return to Harrenhal − that I should watch out for myself and trust no one −" She muttered, and he felt his heart stop.

That we should not return to Harrenhal.

That I should watch out for myself and trust no one.

She warned her.

Why?

He felt that he understood absolutely none of this; the woman's behaviour seemed to make no sense to him, but that wasn't the worst of it.

The worst part was the thought that perhaps she really believed what she said.

That perhaps she really did see his betrayal and what he would do next in her dream or in the fire.

He stood watching her like a small, frightened child who was afraid to tell a parent that he had stolen and destroyed their favourite book unwillingly, who was afraid to admit his guilt for fear of punishment and what it entailed.

She must have seen what was happening to him in his gaze because she walked over to him and touched his upper arms, her scent, the smell of vanilla reached his nose.

"− husband, what happened? − if you have doubts, let's discuss everything − but please don't close yourself in the fortress of your mind −" She muttered pleadingly, her voice warm and calm, soothing, as if she understood that he was afraid.

That thought, the realisation that she knew him well enough that he couldn't hide from her what was happening inside him made him feel even worse.

He thought she would loathe him forever.

He swallowed hard as she cupped his cheeks between her hands and closed his eyes, feeling himself tremble all over, focusing only on her closeness.

"− uncle − look at me − I am your ally − I always have been −" She whispered tenderly making another wave of heat and fear surge through his body at the same time, causing something inside him to crack.

"You're your parents' child too. Just like me. What will you do when one of them demands the other's head?" He asked coldly, feeling his heart pounding like mad − he felt like he could hear in his ears the fast pumping of blood through his veins.

His wife furrowed her brows, shaking her head as if she did not understand what he had just said to her.

"− I will never agree to this − despite what your grandfather and your mother did to me, I will not agree for them to be harmed if you assure me to do the same − you know that I am not driven by revenge − and you? − you are the one who constantly doubts me, however, ever since I appeared in King's Landing you have been the one to let me down − yet I remain faithful to you − I chose you, uncle, when will you understand it? − when will you understand that there is no other way for me but by your side even if I come to burn? −"

She said in a trembling, angry, breaking voice from which a shiver ran down his back; he looked at her in disbelief feeling his body filled with guilt and shame.

You are the one who constantly doubts me, however, ever since I appeared in King's Landing you have been the one to let me down.

She was right.

She welcomed him with open arms despite the fact that he hadn't answered her letters for eight years; she didn't show him any kind of resentment, she didn't demand an apology from him, she lavished him with understanding and tenderness when he needed it, wanting to make things right.

It was he who betrayed her when Aegon became King.

It was his mother who forced her to drink the moon tea.

He was the one who made her try to take her own life.

He was the one who kept her locked up like a prisoner.

And yet, it was he who perpetually accused her in his head of the possibility of betrayal, as if he was just waiting for it.

For an excuse to decide that this was never going to succeed.

Despite this, she was now standing in front of him, being on his side, willing to fight alongside him for a future for them.

He felt a squeeze in his throat at this realisation, at the thought that there was never any other way for him than the one that would always lead him to her, to his beloved, to his friend.

To his Rheanys.

He lifted his hand, in some subconscious gesture of tenderness and closeness placing an unruly strand of her dark hair behind her ear, looking at her pretty face, at her bright, shining eyes, at her long lashes, at her swollen, moist lips − everything that belonged to him, that he could take every night.

He felt his manhood twitch in his breeches at the thought.

"Can I kiss you?" He heard her whisper and looked at her, seeing that she was staring at him exactly as she had then, that day when she had come to his chamber as a child, holding a small book clutched to her chest in her hands.

He leaned towards her without a word and closed his eyes, sighing in relief when her plump, soft lips pressed against his in a sweet, sticky kiss; she pulled away from him, stroking his cheeks and hair with her hands, but it wasn't enough for him.

"One more time."

He moaned into her mouth and locked her in the tight, strong embrace of his arms as her lips pressed against his again, this time as if she wanted to devour him, her wet, swollen lips sucking and licking him making him completely hard; he felt the lust, the hot feeling he shared with her shake his body as his eyes involuntarily filled with tears at the thought of what he had heard.

You will take me, because you will decide that I am similar to her enough to satisfy your pain and longing.

You will put your child inside me.

But he wanted her.

He wanted his childhood friend.

His lover, his companion, his joy.

She filled his heart with herself so much that there was no room in it for any Visenya.

"I love you." He muttered helplessly, feeling the words leave his throat without the participation of his free will. "I've always loved you."

He felt her gasp loudly at his words as her body trembled in his arms; his heart squeezed tight with pain as she wept quietly.

"− I feel that some weight has crushed you, my beloved − it covers you like a heavy black cloak − but I am by your side − I am with you − trust me − I know how to speak with them, I know them −" She mumbled out looking at him with a hot gaze full of affection from which he felt that nothing mattered anymore, that he couldn't fight himself or what only she could do.

He was completely helpless against her.

"− will you be by my side even when all is lost? − even if there is nothing left but darkness? −" He asked in a breaking voice, and she smiled, so sweetly, tenderly, joyfully that his hands clenched tighter on her body.

"− yes − don't go the path I could not follow − let me stay by your side − if I am to leave this world, I want to die in your arms −" She whispered softly, and he felt that it was over for him, that whatever he had been thinking about a moment ago, it didn't matter.

"− so be it − fall with me −" He breathed out, before his lips pressed greedily into hers, his fingers digging into the material of her leather coat enclosing her in his tight embrace, their tongues colliding with each other, licking with their soft sighs of pleasure.

He thought, panting hard into her throat, caressing her with a loud click of their saliva, that he could take her now, on the grass, in front of everyone, and fuck her so hard that the whole Eyrie would hear.

This, however, did not happen.

The sight of her would-be betrothed was the last thing he wanted to see − Ronnel Arryn seemed to him to be a boastful and self-obsessed man, focused only on the tonnage of his muscles and how he presented himself.

His grin full of mockery which he threw back at him, looking at the left side of his face made him involuntarily think how pleasant it would be to just slit his throat.

He remembered why they were actually there when they walked into the circular chamber where his uncle and half-sister were waiting for them − he pressed his lips into a thin line seeing that his sister-whore dared to wear his father's crown on her head.

He said nothing.

As his wife threw herself into her mother's arms, he glanced at Daemon; his uncle stood back leaning lazily against the wall, his chin lifted slightly in some sort of challenge, a lazy, mocking smirk on his face.

"Let's sit down." He heard his sister's voice at last, but he had no intention of obeying her orders; so he stood, looking at his uncle, who also had not moved from his place, stroking the handle of his Dark Sister thoughtfully.

"My husband has conveyed to me that my brother-usurper wants to pact over the succession of the throne he himself has unlawfully taken. I must admit that this is a quite ridiculous situation." Rheanrya began, and he rolled his eyes, feeling frustrated and impatient. His wife threw him a quick, frightened glance − he, however, just looked at her, letting her speak.

He decided that he would trust her.

His niece grunted loudly and looked at her mother, adjusting herself in her seat, tense.

"My uncle, Prince Aegon, had no choice. His mother is deeply convinced that her husband, my grandfather, and our King, revealed his final will to her before he died. She mentioned to my uncle about the Prince who was promised, about Aegon's dream. I think she misunderstood him, mother, I…" She paused as Rheanyra looked quickly in Daemon's direction − he and his wife exchanged quick, shocked glances between themselves.

He furrowed his brow, feeling discomfort in his pit, wondering what they knew that might have escaped his attention.

Her mother looked at her again, some strange glint in her gaze.

"Mother?"

"Aegon the Conqueror's Dream. A Song of Ice and Fire. This is the prophecy my father spoke to me about. Whatever Alicent heard, it did not apply to her firstborn son." She said in a trembling voice, as if it was obvious to her.

He felt rage at the thought that their father had shared with his daughter some prophecy, a future that was to befall their lineage, but did not consider them, his sons, worthy of the privilege.

Humiliation, shame and anger surged through his body making his words involuntarily leave his lips.

"You mean to say that our father only conveyed the contents of this prophecy to you, but you don't believe my mother that he could have passed on to her that he changed his mind regarding the succession?" He growled, his sister and uncle throwing him quick, warning glances.

"Calm down, nephew. You are speaking to the Queen." Daemon reminded him, and he looked at him with rage.

"She is not my Queen." He hissed, his hand sliding down to the hilt of his sword when he saw Daemon's fingers tighten around his Dark Sister.

"That's enough. We have met here because Aegon realises, as you do Mother, that his and your children's rights to the throne will be challenged, and the war will not end with your death." His wife interjected, startling him as did the rest of those gathered, his heart began to pound like mad.

What?

"Are you undermining Jace, my firstborn son's right to the throne?" Her mother asked in a trembling tone, clearly not believing what she was suggesting.

Her daughter drew in a loud breath and swallowed hard before answering her.

"He's a bastard, mother. Like me, Luke and Joffrey, he cannot inherit the throne. Will you cut off my tongue for those words? Will you deprive me of my head, father?"

He looked at her with his lips slightly parted, feeling that his mind was not yet able to comprehend fully what she had actually done.

She continued, however, as if the words were pouring out of her like a river.

"We just lie and lie and lie until in the end we ourselves don't know where the truth lies, but it is there somewhere, always, and sooner or later none of us will be able to deny it even if we beheaded all the men in the Seven Kingdoms."

He felt a surge of satisfaction and warm affection shake his body at her words, at her proof that she understood him, understood his pain, understood why her brothers could not be heirs to the throne.

How could he ever doubt her?

Her mother and stepfather seemed as shocked as he was, unable to get a word out.

"How dare you say such a thing? Your father, Laenor Velaryon, has recognised you and your brothers as his heirs. He gave you his name, he recognised you as his child in the eyes of the kingdom." Her mother muttered, clearly heartbroken that her own daughter was challenging her words.

"But the whole Kingdom knows, mother. Even if Jace were to sit on the throne after your death, his lineage will not be forgotten. Are you prepared to die knowing that neither he nor his children will ever be safe? That, like my uncle's coronation, his coronation would also be challenged by lords across the Kingdom?" She asked in pain, as if she herself could no longer bear what was happening, how far they had gone in pretending what was the truth and what was a lie.

He thought that he himself would not have put into words better what he thought and acknowledged with pride that his wife was a great speaker.

That even he would have hesitated and reconsidered what she had said if he had heard the arguments spoken in this way.

"I know what humiliation you experienced, mother, and how much suffering you endured. Believe me that I did too. I, too, do not believe my grandfather would change his mind on his deathbed. I did not and do not recognise Aegon as King, nor have I ever called him that or given him the honour he deserves.

However, if we do not find an agreement, war will break out not only in the Realm, but in our family. This is what King Viserys wanted to prevent at the last supper before his death. Mother, after all, you are siblings. Your brother, though a traitor, extends his hand, he is ready to relinquish the crown he stole from you."

An awkward silence fell; Rhaenyra looked over her shoulder at her husband, apparently seeking his advice. His uncle stared at her with clenched lips, clearly believing that she should fight for her rights no matter what − even at the cost of war.

His half-sister looked at her daughter again and swallowed hard.

"I can consider the terms my husband has conveyed to me, but I also have my conditions. I will agree that it is your children who will inherit the Iron Throne, and you will be named as ruler-regents only if there are two kings, and you will be one of them.

You and your husband will share the power of the Kingdom equally and neither of you will sit on the throne or wear the crown. Aegon the Conqueror's crown and my father's crown will be kept in the treasury.

In addition, my husband and I will sit on the Small Council, and deprived of their seats will be your grandfather and Alicent. In addition, Otto Hightower will be stripped of all other functions and privileges and will reside under our oversight in King's Landing.

Jace will inherit Dragonstone as my first-born son. If no male heir is born to you, the official heirs will be the children from my and my uncle's marriage, pureblood Targaryens."

He stared at her wide-eyed, feeling the cold sweat on his back, his heart pounding like mad as his mind tried to quickly analyse what he had heard.

I will agree that it is your children who will inherit the Iron Throne, and you will only become ruler-regent if there are two kings, and you will be one of them.

You and your husband will share power in the kingdom equally and neither of you will sit on the throne or wear the crown. Aegon the Conqueror's crown and my father's crown will be kept in the treasury.

She wanted the kingdom to be ruled by two kings.

She wanted him and her daughter to have the same title, the same privileges.

He saw his niece look at him, her eyes big with terror, filled with fear of how he would react.

No, he thought.

She was no longer her daughter.

She was no longer a bastard.

She was his wife.

When he had covered her shoulders with the cloak with his family crest she had officially taken his name, and who her father was no longer mattered.

Although he knew that the name her mother had given her was different, to him she was Rhaenys.

Rhaenys Targaryen.

His childhood friend, a woman he trusted, respected, loved, whose opinion and letters he had held deep in his heart for years, whom he would have consulted if he had become king-regent anyway.

The thought that she would stand by his side, that she would help him carry this burden, that she would be like a second, necessary pillar to support the whole crumbling structure that was their family, filled him, to his surprise, not with frustration but relief.

He nodded his head.

His wife sighed quietly, looking at him with hope, turning her gaze to her mother. Rhaenyra's eyes welled with tears of grief and sorrow as she nodded, sealing her decision.

She had agreed.

Gods, she agreed.

"Pass on my words to my brother. Let him know that this is not just about my pride, but about the welfare of the Kingdom and our family. That I respect my father's will and hope that he will do the same." She said dispassionately and he nodded, feeling his whole body quiver with emotion, his hands clasped behind his back clenched into fists.

"You are surely exhausted. My cousin has prepared chambers for you where you can rest to set off on your return journey as we will tomorrow morning. Let us have supper together. I have been separated from my one daughter for too long." She said matter-of-factly and he swallowed hard feeling that he had completely frozen.

No.

None of them could stay here.

He couldn't propose that they fly to King's Landing knowing that they would surely disagree, so in desperation he proposed something that shocked everyone, including himself.

"No." He said coolly. "We'll spend the night in Dragonstone."

His niece beamed all over, her cheek blushing with happiness, as if she didn't believe his words.

"Do you mean it?" She asked sweetly like a little child to whom he had just given a wonderful surprise.

He felt a squeeze in his throat at the thought.

"Yes." He replied calmly, glancing at his uncle, who was squinting, watching him intently. "As an expression of my goodwill."

Daemon tapped the tip of his tongue against the wall of his cheek and hummed under his breath, a tense silence fell between them.

His wife was right.

He had the feeling that his gaze was piercing him to the core.

He muttered under his breath and looked at his wife − Rhaenyra, like his niece, seemed shocked by his proposal, but also pleased at the prospect of her daughter returning to her family home, if only for a while.

"Well…I see no objection. Daemon?" She asked her husband, who looked at his daughter. Apparently, something in her pleading gaze made him decide to remain silent for the time being, as he merely nodded his head in wordless agreement.

He closed his eyes and sighed quietly in relief, feeling a huge stone fall from his heart.

He stepped back, allowing Rhaenyra to leave, just behind her the room left Daemon throwing him one vigilant, mocking look telling him that he knew there was something more behind his words.

His wife, however, overwhelmed by excitement and joy, seemed not to notice it − she ran to him and snuggled into him, clasping her hands on his back, his arms immediately enclosing her in a tight, secure embrace.

He hadn't betrayed her.

He would never betray her.

So why did he feel so guilty?

"There are no words in which I can describe my gratitude to you. "She whispered, burying her face in his chest; he sighed heavily, pressing his lips to the top of her head, stroking her soft hair and neck with his fingers.

"I'm proud of you." He said calmly wanting her to know that he admired what she had done, the calmness in which she had presented his side's reasons while showing understanding and respect for her mother's rights and heritage.

He thanked the gods that he knew when to shut his mouth.

She looked at him and smiled shyly, as if his words surprised and embarrassed her. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, pressing her soft lips to his, and he murmured low, feeling a tightness in his throat.

He should tell her, he thought with pain, but he didn't know how.

He didn't want to spoil this beautiful moment.

So he kept silent, but the guilt, the fact that he was hiding something from her, pressed down on his shoulders like a huge burden, through which he could experience neither relief nor satisfaction that Rhaenyra had agreed to their terms.

He never expected to fly through the skies beside Larax, Caraxes and Syrax, to ever see Dragonstone, to propose a journey there of his own accord.

He felt shame filling him.

As he and his wife stepped inside their fortress, where their children were already waiting for them, an awkward silence ensued. Jace and Luke stood behind a large stone table that resembled the shape of all of Westeros, looking at him in disbelief and horror. He shuddered when he saw that Rhaena was the first to rush ahead, sidestepping him and her father, enclosing his wife in a sincere, tender embrace.

"I'm so happy you're alive." She muttered in a breaking voice – his niece stroked her back with a smile.

"Me too." He heard her whisper.

After a moment, Baela joined them, throwing him a cold, warning glance along the way, from which he only rolled his eyes. He looked again at Luke, who swallowed hard and lowered his gaze, clearly unable to bear his presence.

He felt disgusted at the sight of them, two boys with cheeks flushed from shame, who knew full well that they did not and should not have any claim to the throne.

He grinned involuntarily at the thought, seeing how pale Jace was, that he understood for certain that their presence meant he would officially cease to be his mother's heir.

Satisfaction as sweet as poison coursed through his veins at the thought.

Jace drew in a breath at the sight of his grimace, his hands clenched into fists as if he felt like lashing out at him − he flinched when Daemon stepped in front of him, standing between them and shook his head.

Jace swallowed hard, furious, lowering his gaze to the stone floor beneath his feet.

None of them came up to greet his niece; only little Joffrey ran up to her and burst into tears screaming that she had left them alone.

They resented her for the side she had chosen in their minds.

She was the only reason they were both still alive, he thought with a sneer.

His half-sister, seeing the look on his face and sensing the tension that reigned around them, decided to take pity on them and suggested that they make themselves comfortable in the chamber that had previously belonged to his wife.

He accepted her words with relief.

As they stepped inside he felt a squeeze in his throat − her quarters were modest, filled with her scent, the windows of her room facing the open sea, the sound of which he could clearly hear. He walked deeper in, looking around her chests of drawers and wardrobes, her wooden bookcases filled to the brim with books, before his gaze finally settled on an ornate oak desk.

He swallowed hard imagining her seated figure bent over parchment.

"− is this here? −" He asked casually, running his fingers over the table top, noticing with a pained heart that it was dusty.

A sign of how long she had not been here.

His niece looked at him surprised and blushed, as if the mere mention embarrassed her.

"− yes −"

He sat down in the chair she sat in every time she wished to convey her thoughts to him, to put them on paper, which then flew all the way to King's Landing to reach his hands. He glanced towards the windows, wondering how many times she had deliberated on choosing the right words while observing exactly the same view.

He thought he was touched.

"− we should rest, husband − if that's what you wish, we'll have supper alone −" She said softly, her voice trembling with excitement and joy.

She couldn't believe she was home again.

He nodded, not knowing what more he could answer.

He had felt the tension all evening; his wife had shown him various books she had read over the years, which she had told him about in her letters. He tried to listen to her and nod, stroking her arm with the tips of his fingers as she sat beside him, flicking through page after page of one of the volumes, looking for the quote she had mentioned to him. Her question pulled him out of his musings.

"− uncle − will you tell me what troubles you? −"

He looked at her horrified and swallowed with difficulty − he only grunted, not knowing what he should answer like a child caught in the act.

"I'm tired." He replied acknowledging that this was partly true. She nodded in understanding, he closed his eyelids as her hand gently stroked his cheek.

"Let's go to bed."

He wasn't going to fight her.

He wanted to leave this place as soon as possible and get away from Daemon's disturbing gaze.

His wife pressed her lips together, seeing that he had put a dagger under his pillow before he lay down − however, she said nothing, knowing he might trust her, but certainly not her family.

He lay down beside her, sighing heavily, and closed his eyes, figuring that perhaps when he woke up the next day and realised that tragedy had been avoided due to his decision, his conscience would have a little more mercy for him.

He murmured contentedly as he felt her arms embrace him, cuddling his face between her breasts, the warmth of her body, her scent filling his entire lungs. He tightened his hands on her back, trying to focus only on the touch of her hands, on her fingers combing gently through his hair, on the lullaby she hummed softly under her breath, and from which his eyelids grew heavier and heavier.

When the moon rises

over the dark sky

When you hear from afar

my bitter cry

Know that I long

When the sun rises

over the bright sky

When you hear from afar

my joyful cry

Know that I'm home

And then sleep fell over him.

His lips clung to her soft, long neck, sweaty from exertion, heavy, drawn-out sighs full of pleasure left his lips as his hips with sure, deep, quick thrusts pounded again and again into her hot, fleshy interior.

"− forgive me − I've missed you − oh, my sweetest −" He breathed out, quickening his pace, sinking his nose into her dark curls, her moans muffled by the pillow she was cuddling her face into. Her body, though different, was just as warm, her scent, though different, was similar to hers.

It didn't matter to him, because she was there for him, because she had forgiven him.

"− I love you − oh fuck, Rhaenys −" He muttered, clenching his eyes, coming inside her at last, experiencing such immense relief that he cursed for another moment, rocking his hips inside her. He swallowed hard, worried that she wasn't saying anything, his fingers took strands of her hair from her face wanting to see her eyes and then he saw it.

Green irises, luscious as grass.

"− is it true? − is she carrying your child? −" He heard her voice as if from afar and suddenly he was standing in front of her in his chamber in King's Landing, feeling his heart pounding like mad, a cold sweat running down his back.

He felt a strong gag reflex and held it back with the remnants of his strong will.

He couldn't get anything out of himself.

What had he done?

"− answer me − is she carrying your child? −" His wife, his Rhaenys muttered in a voice breaking with pain and despair, her cheeks red from tears, her eyebrows arched in rage, in her gaze something he feared most.

Disgust.

"− I − I don't know −" He mumbled, trying to remember what had actually happened, how he could have done it when, after all, he had promised himself it would never, never happen.

He thought about how he hadn't touched her in so long, how he had missed her so much.

When she discovered that he had hidden the truth from her, what his grandfather had planned, that he knew what could have happened to them in the Eyrie but hadn't told her, she hadn't slept in his chamber, hadn't eaten supper with him, hadn't spoken to him or looked at him even though he had tried so hard to please her.

"− don't you know? − don't you know if you put your bastard inside her? −" She mumbled and burst out into a loud, miserable sob, hiding her face in her hands − he looked at her, panting hard, shaking all over, not knowing what he was supposed to say, what he was supposed to do.

"− HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME!? −" She almost screamed, falling to her knees as if without strength, whining loudly like some kind of animal, her whole being trembling and twitching in convulsions − he approached her quickly, kneeling beside her, trying to touch her, but she pushed him away.

"− my beloved − please − I was possessed by madness, I swear − I − I thought it was you −" He muttered, not knowing how he could explain such a betrayal, such humiliation she suffered because of him.

"− you thought it was me? − you fucked another woman and thought it was me? − gods, Aemond, don't touch me! − don't touch me −" She howled, her voice at once enraged, full of pain, suffering and grief, her eyes red with tears, her whole body quivering.

He was the reason for this.

He had done this to her.

"− my Prince − my Prince, quickly, your wife! −" He heard someone shout – he shuddered as he sat by the fireplace, gazing in horror at the figure of the guard who had rushed into his chamber.

As he stepped out into the corridor he heard someone's loud sobs and screams tearing at his heart; as he ran inside he froze noticing the figure of Rheaenyra kneeling on the floor, covering her mouth with her hand − his wife, and her daughter, was hanging from a rope tied to the frame of her bed, which was tightened around her neck, her dark hair covering her bowed head, her feet not touching the floor.

He ran to her trying to lift her, trying to pull her down, but he knew, felt, that it was too late, her body cold, numb, empty.

His face sank into her flesh covered only by the material of her nightgown muffling his loud, desperate scream.

"Uncle! Uncle, please, wake up!"

He opened his eyes and pulled himself up to sit down, panting heavily, feeling his heart pounding like mad – he could see nothing through the tears that one by one ran down his face, his body twitching all over in convulsions as if it had gone into a state of absolute panic.

"− easy, my love − breathe −" He heard someone's voice beside him, her voice – he looked at her as if he didn't recognise her, her eyes wide in terror, her hand stroking his shoulder reassuringly.

"− Rhaenys − Rhaenys −" He mumbled out like a small child calling out to its mother, bursting into sobs of relief and terror that shook his body − he snuggled into her breast, clasping his fingers on her back so tightly that she hissed in pain – however, she did not push him away and her arms enclosed him in a tight, secure embrace.

"− I'm here, my love − I'm here −" She whispered, again and again placing warm, moist kisses on the top of his head, combing her fingers through his hair.

For a moment he merely wept and quivered, unable to catch his breath, trying to calm himself, listening to her whisper, breathing in her scent, enjoying her closeness, the touch of her hand.

It seemed to him that it was hours before he began to breathe normally, before he realised that all he had seen was just a nightmare, that he was lying with his wife in her bed in Dragonstone.

That all was not yet lost.

He swallowed hard and clenched his eyes shut.

"− there's something − there's something I want to tell you −"

203 notes · View notes

novlr · 4 months

Note

Do you have tips on writing a character who hasn't eaten in a while?

Hunger is more than a mere rumble in the belly; it is a powerful human experience that intertwines emotion with the physical, influencing a character’s actions and shaping their decisions. Whether it is the gnawing emptiness of a missed meal or the desperate ache of long-term deprivation, hunger can be a compelling force in storytelling.

Behaviour

Persistent thoughts of food

Increased irritability or lack of focus

Hoarding behaviours

Overprotective around food

Frequently visit places where food can be obtained

Partake in activities that distract from hunger

Eager to accept food-related invitations or tasks

Unusually willing to consume foods they normally wouldn’t

A gradual decline in energy or enthusiasm

Show obsessive behaviours

Interactions

Easily agitated in social situations

Conversations frequently divert back to topics of food

Bartering or trading items of value for food

Impatient when waiting for food in group settings

Feel shame or embarrassment when their hunger is noticed

Increased generosity when they have food, knowing what it’s like to be without

Reluctance to share food or an obsession with equal portions

Withdraw from social interactions to avoid exposing their hunger

Probe others for information about potential food sources

Relationships could be strained or strengthened through the sharing or withholding of food

Body language

Slumped or listless posture due to low energy

Stomach clutching or other physical manifestations of hunger

Fidgety, restless movements or a loss of coordination

Fixation with watching others eat or staring at food

Slow, lethargic response to stimuli unrelated to food

Exhibit rapid eating behaviours when food is available

Frequently licking lips in anticipation of eating

Increased response to food-related stimuli, like smelling food from afar

Distracted gaze, as if looking for food opportunities

Display physical signs of malnutrition, such as physical weakness, hair loss or sallow skin

Attitude

Pessimistic or short-tempered

Single-mindedness focus that prioritises food

Impolite or a lack of social graces

Increased risk-taking behaviour through desperation

Manipulative

Fluctuating moods

Sense of hopelessness

Heightened sense of gratitude for any food received

A less discerning perspective on what is considered ‘edible’

Reevaluating personal values and priorities

Positive story outcomes

Lead to resourcefulness and problem-solving skills

Strengthening of relationships through shared experiences of scarcity

Hunger may catalyse a character’s personal growth or shift in perspective

Lead to communities coming together to support each other

Characters might discover new talents or skills in their quest to find food

Act as a motivator for a character to overcome obstacles

May lead to intense moments of satisfaction or relief when resolved

Build an appreciation for the simple things in life, including basic sustenance

Show how hunger can become a catalyst for social or political change.

Can be the driving force behind a character’s ultimate success story.

Negative story outcomes

Chronic hunger can lead to physical and mental health decline

May push characters to commit acts they would normally consider immoral

Show the breakdown of social order or relationships

Result in a character’s loss of dignity or self-respect

Can have a debilitating effect on a character’s ability to achieve their goals

Character development might take a dark turn, showing a descent into obsession or madness

Tragic endings, such as starvation or conflict over resources

Expose societal inequities and drive wedges between groups

Illustrate the loss of innocence, as characters are forced to confront harsh realities

An insurmountable barrier, leading to unfulfilled potential or unfinished journeys

Helpful adjectives

Ravenous

Starving

Famished

Hollow-stomached

Craving

Unfulfilled

Pining

Empty

Desperate

Gut-wrenching

Aching

Parched

Gaunt

Gnawing

Consuming emptiness

Insatiable

Malnourished

264 notes · View notes

jayden-writes · 4 months

Text

to belong

pairing: Lucifer x gn!Reader

wordcount: ~2.9k

genre: hurt/comfort, angst

cw: skipping meals due to stress, anxiety, insecurity, school-related fears, self-esteem issues

summary: In an attempt to prove yourself worthy to be amongst the demons you were living with, you ended up pushing yourself too far.

other notes: no name, Y/N or MC used // AO3 // thanks again to @gravedwe11er for helping me so much with this fic!

Sometimes you wondered how you fit into the House of Lamentation, if you even belonged there in the first place. You were a mere human among demons, the seven Avatars of Sin, and no amount of pacts could hide that fact. Everything you did, they did better - and with less effort at that. Mammon's grades were as bad as yours, with the difference that you have been studying night after night for them. Meanwhile, he rarely ever picked up a textbook, if at all.

The final exams were approaching at a rapid pace and you were trying and failing to keep up with the curriculum. Following your return from RAD, you had cooped yourself up in your room and it must have been a few hours since then - Levi had called you for dinner a while ago, and you had declined. How late it was exactly, you couldn’t tell and couldn’t be bothered to check. But you knew that getting enough sleep tonight wouldn’t be possible, just like all the other nights before. With a groan, you leaned back in your chair, running a hand through your hair as you yawned.

Deciding to allow yourself a small break, you went into your adjacent bathroom, standing in front of the sink and splashing cold water on your cheeks. The droplets trailed down your skin and you looked into the mirror, examining your face with a heavy sigh. The dark circles beneath your eyes could almost rival Lucifer’s, and you were nearly as pale as Levi. Your features were beginning to look sunken in and you were barely able to remember the last time you had a proper meal - you were lucky everyone was too busy with their own things to really pay attention to you, otherwise someone would have already scolded or forced you to take better care of yourself. As much as you wanted to do that, you just couldn’t; you had to do as well as possibly could on the exams, well enough to prove yourself to them. Or perhaps more so to prove yourself to Lucifer, to make him proud of you and your efforts.

Feeling a blush creeping up your cheeks at the thought of him giving you one of his rare compliments, you shook your head. It was embarrassing how hard you've been trying to get his attention, his approval; your attempts, however, stayed unsuccessful - the best result you've managed to achieve was the absence of criticism and just the tiniest upward quirk of his lips and-

“Focus, dammit!” you hissed at your reflection, sprinkling some more water on your face to shake yourself out of your reverie.

Finally, you stepped away and made your way to the kitchen to at least eat something small. When you opened the fridge, you grimaced at the harsh light and the emptiness you found inside. You huffed in annoyance and grabbed a cup of yogurt and a spoon, leaning against the counter while you ate your second “meal” of the day in the dim lighting. The cup was quickly emptied and you threw the packaging into the trash before going back to your room. Despite knowing that you should be eating more, especially since your brain needed energy to work properly, you just couldn’t get yourself to actually do so. It was either because you lacked the time or because you simply weren’t hungry; you attributed the latter to the stress you've been putting on yourself.

With that, you returned and sat on your chair, determined to somehow get through these piles of papers and books in front of you. Before you knew it, more hours passed and it was soon past 2 a.m. The letters and numbers were blurred by now and you blinked hard, attempting to bring them back into focus. Setting down the pen, you rubbed at your eyes and, when that didn’t help either, you stood up. The moment you were on your feet again, the room spun around you. Cursing under your breath, you staggered to the bed, collapsing onto it rather than lying down. The light was still on and you were too tired to turn it off. Sleep came easily, although it was anything but restful.

At 6 a.m., the sound of an alarm pierced the air, and you wanted nothing more than to roll onto your side, to sleep off the pounding ache in your head. You clumsily reached for your D.D.D. and turned off the blaring noise, groaning at the overhead light that burned itself into your aching eyes. Without a doubt, you were looking even worse compared to yesterday - you certainly felt like it at least. You sat up and swung your legs over the edge, wincing at the increasing pain behind your temples but pointedly ignoring it as you walked into your bathroom with unsteady steps. While washing your face you caught a glimpse of your appearance and cringed. It would only be a matter of time, and someone would eventually notice how you were neglecting yourself.

Still, lying to anyone who asked about your eating habits had gotten surprisingly easy - you had either already eaten or were going to get something on the way to or from RAD. It made you feel bad, but you couldn't have anyone meddling in your life, not when you so desperately needed to do well on those exams. All you had to do was to focus, to ignore everything that wasn't important until it was over. It was only one week. Seven more days and you could return to how things were before. You would be fine, you knew it.

After getting dressed and gathering your school supplies, you placed them in your backpack and headed to the main entrance. On your way there, you glanced into the dining room, noting the absence of Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, and Belphegor. The ones that were present greeted you halfheartedly, being absorbed in either their D.D.D. or the food in front of them to pay you any attention. You left the House of Lamentation, walking to RAD with an open book in your hands, intent on getting more subject material into your overwhelmed mind before you inadvertently had to write one of the exams later.

The classes went by in a blur and you barely saw the brothers throughout the day, exactly like it has been for the majority of the past few weeks. Somehow, your condition managed to deteriorate with every class that passed, your head spinning and throbbing. Nothing made sense to you anymore and you were unable to focus. By the time you finally had to get to the class you had an exam in, you felt completely out of it and absolutely terrified - at this rate, you were going to fail. Hurrying to the classroom, you climbed the stairs towards the correct floor, taking two steps at once despite the lingering dizziness. They were winding and you were rounding a curve when you forcefully collided with someone. Shrieking in surprise, you lost your balance and began to fall backwards. It all seemed to happen so slowly yet so rapidly. A strong arm quickly snaked around your waist and you were drawn against something firm. Lucifer. You would recognize that outfit anywhere.

“Can you not watch where-” he started to reproach you, but the words died on his lips as you pulled away. His brow furrowed and he gave you a quick look-over.

“Sorry. Didn't mean to. I'm in a hurry, sorry,” you explained, your speech rushed and a little slurred, and you pushed past him to continue your ascent. However, you couldn't get much further because his hand reached out towards you again, this time grabbing you by the wrist.

“Where do you think you're going?” he asked, his tone calm and controlled. His hold on you was tight, although not painfully so, and you turned back to face him.

“To class, I have an exam,” was your simple reply, and you attempted to shake him off once more.

“Oh no, you're not going anywhere,” he responded sternly, not releasing you and instead firmly, yet carefully, guiding you down the stairs.

“What? But why? My exam!” you sputtered. “I apologized, no need to punish me!”

“Punish you?” He frowned, stopping momentarily before shaking his head and continuing downwards. “This isn't about punishment.”

“Then what-” you began, only to be cut off when an especially intense wave of dizziness washed over you, making you lose your footing. Catching you for a second time, he steadied you against his side.

“Alright. Enough of this,” he muttered, keeping hold of your waist while sliding the other one under your knees, hoisting you into the air. Your stomach swooped and you yelped, instinctively wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Calm yourself,” Lucifer said tersely, holding your quivering frame securely. “I’ve got you.”

With a whimper, you pushed your face into the fabric of his suit to avoid seeing the stairs as he descended. The thought of being carried down the steps made you feel queasy and you anxiously held onto him tighter.

“I will not let you fall,” he stated, sounding mildly exasperated. “See? It's already over.”

And indeed, the harsher rocking motions of him descending had ceased, being replaced by the smooth swaying of him walking. You withdrew from him and looked up at his stoic expression. There was a small blush coloring your cheeks at the proximity and you quickly pressed yourself against him when red eyes glanced down at you.

“Are you not… putting me down again? I can walk by myself,” you mumbled, your voice muffled by his shirt.

“Yes, I saw how well you were able to walk down those stairs,” Lucifer retorted sarcastically and tightened his hold on you.

You only huffed and pouted, but that didn’t seem to deter him in the slightest. Soon enough, the main entrance opened and a cold breeze hit you, causing you to flinch, and you buried yourself further into his chest.

“Forgot your jacket somewhere, hm?” he concluded, setting you down carefully, making sure you were at least somewhat steady on your own feet before withdrawing his touch to take off his coat. With a confused look, you observed his actions, barely able to hold yourself upright, whether it was still due to your exhausted and weakened state or due to what almost felt like Lucifer fussing over you, you were not certain. Before you knew it, the warm and heavy fabric was wrapped tightly around your body, and then you were swiftly lifted back up.

“H-hey!” you protested. “You can't just give me your coat! What about you? Won’t you get cold?”

Lucifer's shoulders heaved with a deep sigh.

“You need not concern yourself with me, I will be fine,” he said and you could practically hear how he rolled his eyes.

It was silent aside from the sound of the gravel beneath his shoes as he carried you towards the House of Lamentation. When he stepped through the door, you expected him to set you down so you could go to your room. But instead, he walked up the stairs.

“What? That's- that's not the way to my room,” you exclaimed, shifting in his hold.

“That is correct, yes,” he replied easily, holding you securely and continuing his ascent, undeterred by your confusion. Maneuvering the door to his room open, he entered and placed on his large, pristine bed.

“I don't understand…” you muttered as you shrugged off his coat and made yourself more comfortable, leaning against the headboard.

With a furrowed brow, you watched Lucifer stride towards a cabinet and look through it.

“You will be staying with me for now. You are foolish if you believe that I will let you out of my sight anytime soon.”

Those words stunned you and you didn't know whether you should feel annoyed, intimidated, or flattered. Perhaps it was a mix between the three.

Finally, he found what he had been searching for, returning to your side with a small vial that contained a shimmery blue liquid and sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“I'm assuming you have not eaten a sufficient amount lately, am I correct?” he asked, his expression not giving much away as he uncorked the vial and held it out towards you.

“This will replenish your energy and hold you over for a bit,” he explained once you tentatively took it from him. “I want you to drink this and then sleep. After you've had some rest, I will make sure to prepare you a nourishing meal.”

“Do I really have to drink that?”

“I will not force you to, though I highly recommend you do; you will feel better afterwards. So be good for me and drink it, alright?” he spoke, smirking a little.

At that, your face flushed and you huffed, “D-don't talk to me like that!”

“My apologies,” he chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement, “but I simply can't resist making you blush. You do look rather endearing when you're flustered.”

You looked up defiantly, fixing him with a mild glare as you chugged the potion with a grimace. Lucifer quirked a brow and eyed you closely, a fond, barely there smile playing around his lips.

“That wasn't so hard now, was it?” He took the vial back and set it aside, leaning against his desk with crossed arms, watching you.

“It absolutely was,” you shuddered in disgust at the aftertaste. A pleasant warm feeling spread rapidly through your body and you did feel slightly better, albeit still terribly exhausted, and you couldn't help but yawn.

“What about you, though? Where will you sleep?” you questioned, sinking into the soft mattress nonetheless.

“My bed is more than big enough for two people,” he pointed out. “Plus, I do not typically sleep during the day. There is paperwork that needs to be done. However, I will not return to RAD today. I will take care of everything from my desk, to make sure you're actually doing as you're told.”

He gave you a stern look before walking to his table to busy himself with his work. Except for the scratching of his pen or the shuffling of paper and your steady breaths, it was silent while the time passed. Just when you were about to drift off, Lucifer began speaking in a hushed voice.

“Lord Diavolo, I'm afraid you will have to do without me for today, and tomorrow as well. I have some urgent matters at the House of Lamentation to attend to… It’s nothing for you to be concerned over, I will handle it… If something important comes up, you can of course-… Alright, yes, thank you for understanding…”

Listening to the call made you feel tense, hot shame flooding you. Lucifer, Diavolo’s right-hand man, won’t be able to do his job properly because of you. Because you were unable to keep up with the demands of the Devildom. The spoken words faded into the background as you burrowed yourself further into the mattress, willing yourself to disappear. You hadn’t even noticed that he had hung up until you felt a finger stroking your cheek, wiping away tears. When had you started crying?

“What’s the matter?” he asked quietly; the gentleness in his tone only making you want to hide more.

The mattress dipped and you opened your eyes, seeing him sit on the bed with a frown.

“You’re busy…” you muttered, averting your gaze and fiddling with the edge of the blanket.

“That I am, yes,” he replied slowly, tilting his head in confusion.

“… and I’m keeping you from your work…”

“I see. So that’s what this is about?” Lucifer questioned, his hand moving from your cheek to brush a strand of hair from your face.

Stubbornly avoiding eye contact, you stayed silent. With a heavy sigh, his touch disappeared and he shifted away from you, looking into the distance as if contemplating something. Before you could comprehend what was happening, he had already joined you beneath the covers, the heat of his body seeping into you as he gathered you in his arms.

“I assure you, Lord Diavolo will be able to handle everything without me for two days. Besides, you and your well-being are far more important than any paperwork or meetings with some nobles,” he whispered, pulling you towards his chest and tucking your head under his chin.

“But-” you began.

“No buts,” he cut you off, holding you closer. “I want you to sleep now.”

You wanted to protest, but the way you were nestled against him, enveloped in warmth and a sense of safety, made all your objections vanish into thin air.

“Fine…” you mumbled.

“Good. I will stay here with you until you fall asleep, alright?”

A tired hum was the only response he got from you and he chuckled affectionately, the sound vibrating against your cheek.

“Sleep well,” he breathed, pressing a kiss to your scalp and tracing small circles on your back.

It didn’t take you long to succumb to your exhaustion, and when you woke up a few hours later, you fully expected to be alone - instead, you were surprised to find Lucifer’s presence next to you, now also sleeping. Still in his embrace, you draped an arm across his waist as well, snuggling even closer. He stirred slightly and hummed, sleepily nuzzling your hair. With a smile, you nuzzled his neck in return and drifted off again.

Perhaps you were exactly where you belonged after all.

190 notes · View notes

aphrogeneias · 9 months

Text

it's been seven hours and fifteen days —

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: five years ago you'd left your hometown in a hurry, trying to escape a heartbreak you thought was inevitable. now, you find out what's truly inevitable are lengths that fate will go to meet you.

word count: 1.3k

warnings: soulmate!au, angst, unrequited love (or is it?), eddie and reader are childhood friends but they're now in their 20s.

series masterlist

I. PROLOGUE (1991)

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA, DECEMBER 1991

"He's here."

Your trembling hands grasp the telephone receiver a little too hard. Staring at the closed door of the back office and hoping that the "staff only" sign is respected, you wait for your friend at the other end of the line to answer after you completely ignored her cheery "Hello!" just seconds earlier.

If you strain your ears a little bit, you can hear the telltale sounds of instruments being dragged around the small stage at the other side of the bar, the voices of the men — both band and crew alike — checking the sound for later that night, distorted feedback echoing from the amps. His voice was the loudest, as it’s always been.

It all feels like a fever dream.

"Who is there?"

"Who have I been running from for the past five years?" You sighed tiredly, as if you'd just ran for miles. You hoped that from your desperate tone that Robin would have picked up on exactly who you were talking about.

"Oh… He's there?" Realization colors her voice. You heard steps on her end, the telephone cord being stretched, and waited with baited breath for her to return. For a moment, you can almost picture her clumsily moving around her small kitchen, trying not to break something in her haste. "He's there?"

The shock you hear in her voice can't be compared to the one you felt when you saw Eddie Munson — freak extraordinaire, professional small town delinquent, guitar wizard and your long lost best friend — walk into the bar you work at, equipment in hand, ready to settle in the stage for a busy Friday night at one of the more inconspicuous bars in Sunset Boulevard.

In all your naivety, you thought you'd never have to see him again. Once you left Hawkins, fresh out of High School and with a determination you only have when you're born in a town that is, in turn, equally determined to spit you out, you thought that was it. Destiny and fate and red strings didn't rule your life, you did.

Destiny was now laughing at your face, pointing at you with an accusing finger like a mother that says "I told you so" to a misbehaving child that has to face the consequences after tempting them for too long.

It looked like he didn't change a thing since you last saw him, from the shaggy brown hair down to the tattered black bandana in his pocket, at least from the quick look you took at him before bolting, which only hurt even more.

"When were you going to tell me he moved here? Didn't you know anything? Didn't Steve know? Dustin must have told him something, it's impossible…"

"Bold of you to assume I listen to every single thing that dingus tells me when he calls me, babe." Robin interrupts your increasingly rapid speech, filled with indignant rage. Her words seem harsh towards your mutual friend, but you know it's said with affection. "And also, I don't know, doesn't fate work in mysterious ways or whatever they used to tell us when we were kids?"

Your communication with your childhood friends was done primarily by phone, ever since you left for Los Angeles and Robin for Indianapolis with her girlfriend-slash-roommate (as far as both of their parents are concerned), Vickie. Steve had stayed behind, begrudgingly managing his dad's business, but you knew it was only a matter of time until he left too.

All of you do, eventually. Even Eddie did, much to your chagrin. It was bittersweet, actually. He'd achieved his lifelong dream of getting out, a dream you both shared, but now you hoped he had chosen somewhere else to run to instead of right into you.

If you weren’t too busy being desperate about your current situation, one you’d been trying to avoid for longer than you thought it was possible, you’d be happy for him. Truly. Once upon a time, it was all you ever wanted. All you could ever talk about. Sitting on his bedroom floor, lying together on your roof, staring at Lover’s Lake — about how you’d get out of there and conquer the world.

You didn’t get to do it together like you planned, like you were meant to, but, then again, life found a way.

"There's nothing mysterious about this, though. Every idiot with a band in this country moves to California sooner or later, it was just a matter of time until they did too."

"May I remind you that he's not just an idiot with a band but actually your soulmate?"

The word soulmate pierces your heart like an arrow anytime you hear it, especially when it's related to yours. It reminds you of a painful conversation, one that was hard to forget.

"Don't say that. You're making it difficult for me." You murmur, closing your eyes for a moment too long. Still staring at the door, scared of someone walking in catching you hanging on to the receiver for dear life, unshed tears glistening in your eyes.

"I'm just saying, and I know I've said this a million times before, but I don't know how you haven't caved to those doe eyes of his. Soulmate or not, I would have, and I don't even like men. Not even a little bit."

Glimpses of warm brown filled your mind, deep and all-knowing. It was getting harder to breathe in the stuffy backroom, the walls seeming to close in on you.

A rational part of your brain, deep inside, knew that you were likely exaggerating. It wasn't like Eddie meant to hurt you — he couldn't even if he tried, that boy didn't have a mean bone in his body. In your worst moments, you tried to convince yourself that you had hurt yourself. You broke your own heart before he could break it first.

That same rational part of your brain knew it was inevitable. The heartbreak. It was only a matter of time until it all shattered — so, you left. You stopped writing at some point near the six month mark after you moved, he stopped calling a little after that. Life went on.

"You're not being very helpful, you realize that? I nearly had a heart attack when I saw him. They're all here, all of the boys. They're here, at the bar, rehearsing." You told her. "When Linda said they had hired a new band I expected something like them but not them, literally." Recounting what happened a few minutes before, you left out the part where you may or may not have crouched behind the bar counter to avoid being seen by your former classmates.

The Deuce was your safe place, and that was a lot to say about a bar that housed a little under a hundred rowdy rock fans almost every night and had seen its fair share of fights and public indecency charges in the time you worked there, but you liked it. Maybe it had to do with the fact that it was one of those places where everything felt possible and every night was different, or with the woman who took you under her wing and made you feel at home in the most chaotic moment of your life.

You trusted Linda, but not enough to tell her about your “one who got away”. Even if you did tell her about what led you here, the real reason you were miles away from home, you don’t think it would have made a difference in this particular moment. You had a feeling no one could put a stop to the red string that was, little by little, shortening the distance between you and the one who’s always held the other side of it.

It frightened you to no end.

"You should just talk to him. Rip that band-aid off. What are you going to do? Leave your job?"

After a beat of silence on your end, Robin continued, and the soft kindness in her voice was enough to finish breaking you. You wish you could hold her through the line. "You can't keep running forever."

Was it stupid that you thought you could?

Your heart beat fast under the tight black shirt you used to work that day, and unconsciously, your hand reached for the necklace under it. An old red guitar pick sat there, right under your collarbone, held between your fingers.

The only thing of his you couldn't keep in that damn box.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic

349 notes · View notes

dreamlessimp · 1 year

Text

— interrupted call

itoshi sae x reader | 0.8k

shidou interrupts your conversation and tells his teammates

(note that the itoshi brothers’ relationship is far less strained then in canon.)

“who’re you calling?” shidou asked you, though it wasn’t much of a request considering he was halfway to grabbing the phone out of your hand.

“hey!” you yelled in objection to his stronger hand wrapping around your phone, easily wrenching it out of your grip due to your giving up.

“who’s this?” shidou asked loudly into the phone.

from his hotel room, sae raised an eyebrow and sighed upon recognizing shidou’s voice. “itoshi sae. give the phone back.”

shidou’s eyes widened and the smirk on his face grew larger. you groaned.

“shit, this is sae?” he paused and laughed before continuing. “why’re you guys talking when it could be us?”

“why wouldn’t i.” sae questioned, bored.

you halted the interrupted conversation with a yell about shidou stealing your phone. you went to grab it back, and surprisingly enough, he let you.

you turned off the speaker shidou had clicked, and held the phone back up to your ear. “sorry. i’ll text you in a few minutes.”

sae sighed into the phone. “okay. bye.”

“bye.” you grumpily whispered back.

while this was happening, shidou was typing madly on his phone. you wholeheartedly hoped it was just him spamming sae about something unsafe for most to read.

sae had never asked to hide your relationship. in fact, neither of you had yet gotten around to talking about its publicity. the most you’d gotten from sae was him telling you that he honestly could not care less.

for him, it was certainly enough. for you though, it meant that there wasn’t a correct outcome.

though, you’d be happy to yell about your boyfriend any day. maybe he wouldn’t yell, but you had a justified hope that he’d do the same.

“is it true?” bachira questioned you, walking up to you from out of the locker room.

isagi exited behind him and quickly followed. “you and sae are dating?

you faltered, surprised at the statement though fully ready to confirm.

chigiri came out next, a towel still pressed to his semi-dried hair. “i doubt it.” he looked at your offended face. “oh please. it’s not like i don’t think you could.”

finally, rin walked up to your group, his phone in hand already calling his brother’s number. “you’re wrong.” he addressed chigiri, who was already smiling.

eventually, sae picked up. turning on the speaker, rin began to speak. “are you in a relationship?”

sae scoffed, though when he spoke his voice was just a touch softer than his usual tone in spite of himself. “yeah.”

bachira began clapping, prompting isagi to work to silence him, not wanting to miss anything. “with—with who?” he asked.

“uh.” you began to speak, now much more confident. “with… me?” your voice had quickly begun to trail off at the end. so much for confidence. “me!” you quickly clarified.

isagi’s face lit up and he gave you a high-five which you supposed you were happy to return.

rin was speaking rapid hushed words to his brother. chigiri tapped your shoulder pointing it out, pleased to whisper that it was likely for tips on how to achieve the same.

you grinned with chigiri before being jumped on by bachira, who claimed to have suspected it the entire time. isagi surprisingly enough was able to confirm this.

apparently, the monster and the egoist had been having sleepovers with talk of romance. you and chigiri made eye contact and began to laugh.

soon, rin returned and grumpily explained that sae had hung up on him. isagi and bachira joined in on your and chigiri’s laughing.

you somewhat regretted not telling your friends earlier, but very much looked forward to all that you would talk to sae about later that day.

eventually, sae was due home and you excitedly waited for him in front of your door.

you would have liked to wait for him at the airport, however, he advised you to stay elsewhere due to ‘some jackass’ managing to leak his flight.

not soon enough, sae came in through the front door and you were happy to spring up and wrap your arms around him. you stayed like that for a bit before separating.

once his bags were all set down, sae looked at you, his face perfectly serious, and promptly began. “you couldn’t wait for me to be home before shidou found out?”

you tilted your head, confused due to his not bringing anything of the sort up.

sensing that your confusion was soon going to turn to worry, he continued. “he’s been spamming my messages since i got back. i blocked him but i don’t think that’s going to stop him.”

a smile broke over your face and you walked towards him to hug him once again, glad to be able to kiss him—comfortably in front of your friends, was a delightful added bonus.

#ssimpfics #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi x reader #sae x reader #sae fluff #blue lock itoshi sae #blue lock sae #blue lock #blue lock fluff #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk #bllk itoshi sae #bllk sae #bllk fluff

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siriusblackloml · 7 months

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Day 5 - Draco Malfoy (Kinktober 2023)

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 500+

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: swearing, dom/sub implications, mommy kink, degradation, unprotected sex, MDNI (18+)

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist┊Day 6

You loved teasing Draco into oblivion on multiple occasions. Due to the opportunity to see how pitiful he was willing to behave in order to obtain a release, it was probably your favorite thing to do in the whole world if you had to be completely honest with yourself. Knowing he was about finish it drove you even further to the edge. It was overpowering in all the nicest ways to see him writhe and wince with each push of your hips down on his length.

Draco groans as your hole grips his girth, causing him to feel so terribly good. The harder you ride him, the tighter he clutches your hips. He whines loudly, "Oh my- fucking hell, you're just amazing, baby."

“Such a good boy. My own little fucktoy, aren’t you Draco?” You ask him in a sultry voice. Your cunt continues to tighten its grip on his cock. Your juices are leaking down your thighs and onto Draco’s own, but it only made the sensation of riding your boyfriend even hotter.

Your thighs squeeze the boy harder in order to force an answer out of him. Draco’s eyes nearly roll to the back of his head, throwing himself back even further into the pillow he laid resting on. His fingers dug into your skin as he moaned loudly. He tells you in a pathetic whimper, “Y-Yes mommy, love being your fucktoy.”

“You like it when mommy calls you that, don’t you? Such a dirty little slut for me. Fuck my pussy, Draco, make me cum real hard on your cock.” You encourage him, picking up the pace. You slam down on his length over and over again. Listening to the repeated squelch of your own liquids against his member makes you groan.

Draco’s a mess now, thrusting into your body to try and help you achieve your finish. Your palms lay against his chest as you embrace the roughness of his thrusts push you over the edge. In a couple of seconds, the knot in your stomach bursts and you find yourself clenching around his length. As you move your hips back and forth, you sense Draco releasing himself shortly after. He finishes inside of you, sliding his hips in and out slowly and carelessly, which only caused his seed to leak out around his own cock and onto the sheets of the bed.

You can’t bring yourself to get up from the current position; your thighs were on fire from all the work you had to do. Work that was totally worth it, of course. You lean forward and rest your head on Draco’s chest, listening to the rapid thumping of his heartbeat. His fingers find their way to your hair as he runs them through your thick locks over and over again.

“Thank you, mommy.” He whispers, hugging you into his chest.

“You’re welcome, baby.” You tell him through a soft smile. It was moments like these that you wouldn’t trade with anyone else in the world. Draco was so special to you, and there was no way you were ever going to lose him.

TAGLIST: @calmspencer, @baddiebbarbietngz, @slytherclaw1978, @serendipitous-fernweh, @pandanation24, @rachelreallyroars, @tinafuentes, @chvmpion-jack, @ethereallovr, @godknows-shetried, @waggoth, @ellieswhor3, @wildestdreamers-tv, @faefaes-world

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kinktober harry potter #kinktober siriusblackloml #draco malfoy #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfooy x you #draco malfoy x y/n

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junkiespromise · 1 year

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superstar | ms47

request: can "superstar" be about mick? y/n is a very supportive girlfriend and she cheers for him and goes to every race but she's not famous, she's a "pretty normal" person compared to him, so his fans don't really understand what he sees in her?

summary: where two young kids fall in love but the world one of them is involved in seems to be against their happiness.

warnings: angst yeah and a bit of relationship doubts.

notes: the second story and first request of the eras masterlist is finally here! i hope ypu guys enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writting it, also it was my first social media au, and remember that requests are still opened!

masterlist

Mick’s life had always been filled with the thrilling sound of car engines and the adrenaline that comes with excessive speed. His father being probably the most famous Formula One driver in history was perhaps the reason why he was so interested and enamored by the sport, making him always wonder if his father was not who he was, would he even be this obsessed with it, or would he want to be a football player or a pianist.

So he made his way through the motorsport world, karts like any kid and then a formula three and two champion until he achieved the highest category and just like his father he became a Formula One driver but he realized that even now when he had finally achieved everything he had dreamed of, he felt, lonely.

Even when he stepped inside the most rapid vehicles in history, where he thought he would feel the most complete, his heart told him that something was missing, to make it alright, to put it all in place. He didn’t know what it was but his soul ached for it, he longed for a deeper connection, someone who would see him for who he truly was and understand his mind and soul.

So when he crossed paths with Y/N, one Sunday evening back home in Germany those lingering feelings disappeared, he knew she was the one.

Mick remembers the day they met as if it was yesterday, he remembered her clothes and could describe in a detailed way how her hair was wrapped in a hair band forming a low ponytail that rested on her shoulder.

He was wearing some long-sleeved shirt that was years old and a pair of dark blue jeans tightened with a belt that probably belonged to his father, considering the damaged black leather of it.

That cold evening he and his sister decided to go out for a coffee, and after an insisting chat with Gina, he decided to go. He was back home, finally, after a never stopping routine of constant travel he had some time for his own, and like every year he went to Germany, with his family. So that day they decided on a small café that not many people frequented.

Mick had asked for a cappuccino and Gina for a macchiato, his order was the first one they called but just as he was stepping towards the girl who was handing it to him, exactly like in a rom-com his sister made him watch, he felt a coldness hit his chest, in a second his white long-sleeved shirt was splashed in brown iced coffee.

A wave of apologies said by a sweet voice filled his ears and that was the moment he finally looked at the girl who had accidentally thrown her coffee onto his shirt.

—Don't worry too much, I'm lucky it was an iced one—He said, slightly chuckling, placing his hand on her wrists, stopping her from smudging it more. Now his mind wondered why she was even ordering it when outside you could see slight traces of snow.

Their eyes finally met, for the first time, before, she was too busy trying to get rid of the stain on his shirt to pay attention to the person she was cleaning it off of. Embarrassed by the situation with her cheeks flushed in a light pink that went all the way up to her ears she stopped for a moment the apologies.

They told each other their names and rapidly started talking, as if faith had brought them together and made them meet like that. In the back, Gina laughed at the poor flirting attempts of her brother who had also completely forgotten about their arranged siblings' coffee date.

And for months after that, they were friends, each too afraid to confess the feelings they had, until finally, one night, when he had traveled to her hometown as a surprise Mick tried to in the most rom-comish way he could, confess his feelings.

Afraid about not hearing an answer to his confession, all kinds of thoughts run through his mind, maybe he had read the signals wrongly and she just wanted to be friends.

But for his luck, the thoughts were interrupted by a pair of lips clinging onto his.

Now, months into their relationship he knew that she was that missing piece he had looked for all along. He raced in the fastest cars in the world yet he felt more adrenaline when he looked at her, his nervousness when he started a race did not compare to that of placing his eyes on hers. And his worries faded to nothing when he looked at her

But people started talking, they always did, and at first, not caring was so easy, in the end, a relationship with a superstar who has thousands of fans all around the world was hard for everyone who was in one, except that to Y/N, his fans seemed harsher on the critics.

They speculated about her motives, if it was for some quick fame or the money he could bring to your home or even the connections she could get and that after catching them she would rapidly leave him, both of them knew the truth, they loved each other and nothing could stop them from it but sometimes it felt like they could.

Mick knew he shouldn't doubt their relationship but he could not stop his mind from wandering if she truly loved him, he knew he loved her but what if it was not like that to her, what if they were right.

The doubts started to get to his head, the side comments, the replies to any post he made about her or she made about him, they, at a point, became to much, so the distancing started between them, slowly, but not slow enough for her to not notice.

yourusername

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yourusername half of my weekend dump !

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sarahluvs47 only here for the mick content like all of us.

formulaleclerc this the girl mick is dating, why? lol

wagsl0ver no one know really, he could

truly do much better

yourbestfriend you look so hot, how do you do it, stop

As the sun began to set in the Saudi Arabia grand prix circuit, everyone's faces filled with excitement, the voices high pitched with enthusiasm. She stood with her hands on the metal railings that separated the crowd from the track.

Although excitement filled the air, Y/N's heart ached. She loved Mick, so much, his love completed her, but people commented on it, on a love that was so pure it seemed almost indestructible, and for a moment she was so foolish she believed that, that their love would be forever, even with all the comments from the outside, their own little world would stay the same.

She knew, the second Mick had told her he was a driver, a formula one driver, that it would be hard to maintain a relationship with a superstar like him. But she was willing to try, even if it meant that the moment she stepped out into the world as Mick Schumacher's girlfriend, that her way of living would not be the same and that that quiet life she liked to have would not be possible, at least for the time they dated. And for him, she was willing to try.

Taking a deep breath in, she locked her phone, reading through the dozens of messages and comments people left her was exhausting and she did not understand the why of them, she hadn't done anything to anyone, she was aware of the ruthlessness of the internet but she had never experienced it first hand.

The comments had been recently getting to her head and she knew they had gotten to Mick's too. Lately he had been more distant, quieter also, and she didn't know what to do about it, talk would be the obvious thing but she avoided serious talks at all costs, she wasn't good at it and her eyes got all watery when she made eye contact with the one she was talking too. But, right now, it seemed like the only thing she could do, force him to chat with her.

…

The wheels on the car were barely been held together, after forty two laps with them and fifty seven laps total, the race was coming to an end and for the first time, Mick, was finally going to place his feet in the podium, second place, just milliseconds behind the blue car numbered "one".

Gina and Corinna sat by her side, the three of them on the verge of tears. The cameras pointed at their faces and then back at the race, she wouldn't celebrate yet, to her it was bad luck. Her heart accelerated at the same pace as the cars passing on the screen in front of her, one more lap and it was his.

The checkered flag appeared in the air, finally it had come to an end, the moment the car passed the checkered flag, the three women and the entire team got up, at the same time, screaming and hugging each other. Now they waited for him to arrive and congratulate him.

Her eyes placed on his, she knew that behind that helmet, a pair of blue eyes were staring back. She smiled when he finally ran towards his team to hug them, the flashing of cameras and screams filled her ears but as soon as he reached out for her and his arms wrapped around her, her head on his chest, his helmet still on, it felt as if they were the last people on earth, just them.

It was celebration day for Mick Schumacher, after that eventful race and his first podium he could finally celebrate it, with his friends and his team, even part of his family and of course, his girlfriend who had been with him for months now and was one of his biggest supporters.

He had changed already after a shower, into a pair of light washed jeans and a navy blue shirt. Mick looked at himself in the bathroom mirror one last time, he didn't need to look great but in the end it was a celebration for him so he had to be presentable at least. After a few minutes in the bathroom he finally came out to go look for his girl, who he thought was going to go with him.

He was surprised to find his girlfriend facing towards the TV, sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing a matching black and light pink sweats set he had gotten her one time after she had told him she had liked it. Her phone facing down by her side and her hands where, he supposed, resting on her face, covering it.

— Hey, what's wrong? Are you not coming? — He sat by her side, putting his arm around her, fingers softly twisting her hair between them.

— We have to talk Mick, I, I can't stand this anymore — Her voice cracked at the end, even if she tried to hide it, he knew it had.

— What? Y/N, look at me, what is going on? — His hands grabbed her face now, his blue eyes scanning over her features, she was god damn gorgeous.

— Those comments, you know, they keep saying that I'm only with you because of your connections and shit, and you have been so distant lately I just — She looked in his eyes, not for long before she drifted them away from him and started to look at different things that seemed now, extremely interesting. Not the best at keeping eye contact especially in moments like those.

Mick immediately reacted back with the intention of talking back, refusing to hear her re-call the comments but Y/N talked before.

— I just don't want that to destroy us and you to think that I'm looking for fame, I just love you so much, and you've been so great to me so you suddenly distancing yourself from me is, I, please don't hear them —

His heart broke when he heard her shut down cries and saw her tear stained face. His arms wrapped around her shoulders and his hands grabbed her head softly and hid it against his chest, immediately feeling a wetness on his shirt, her tears.

A wave of sorries emitted in a low flooded her ears his nose against her head whispering them closely.

— I, you were right, I did listen to some comments, but I doubted myself and if I would be able to have a true relationship, and with you after today I know I have it. — Y/N felt his smile as he talked just by hearing the way he said the words. — When mom talked to me after the race she told me that you were the one and that you looked at me the same way she looks at dad —

The blond haired boy smiled as soon as he felt the smile of her girlfriend on his chest.

With his right hand, the one which he was not holding her with, he cleaned her tears from her face — I love you, so much I can barely hold it inside of myself, okay? You are the best girl someone could ever ask for. — She said it back after that and he repeated it a few times before falling quiet and for a few minutes they stayed like that, her arms wrapped around his chest and her head on his chest, one of his hands on her back and the other on her hair softly caressing it.

When they separated her hands went to her cheeks to wipe away the tears she had, now drying. — So, you're staying? — He asked, she simply shook her head — I'll go get ready, i have the cutest outfit planned —

She got up and walked to the bathroom quickly — You had an outfit planned without even knowing if I would get on the podium? — he asked, laying down on the bed — Of course! I felt it in my heart, you know, that you were going to be up there. I didn't tell you because I didn't want to jinx it, so I kept it to myself. — Mick smiled, looking at the ceiling, she had felt in her heart that he would be on the podium, how was he supposed to act after knowing that.

— Okay, I'm ready, let's go — She appeared on the room again, wearing a silk dress, black fishnets and a pair of black mary janes on her feet, her hair slightly wet and her eyes painted with a sharp eyeliner.

— You look, great, gorgeous actually — He walked up to her, admiring the way she looked, when he was finally in front of her he kissed her, with love and pureness.

To Mick, Y/N was his superstar and he knew she was hers too.

mickschumacher

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mickschumacher celebrating P2 for the first time and some pics with her.

comments on this post where limited

yourusername i love you <3

gina_schumacher truly proud of you !

taglist ;; @amayakingw @f1wh0r3 @misiafix @dan3avocado @thtbwltts @myaurorasandsadprose @qualitygiantshoepsychic @myescapefromthislife @light-23 @magical-imagination-kgp @leclercsbae @here-comes-the-moose @leclercs-posts

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #taylor swift x f1 #f1 social media au #f1 x you #formula one fanfic #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #mick schumacher fanfiction #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher fluff #mick schumacher fic #mick schumacher x you #mick schumacher x Y/N #f1 ig au #f1 instagram au

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babygorewhore · 8 months

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Pretty Little Psycho.

Kai Anderson x Reader.

Kai Anderson planned on killing you, you were a means to an end. A necessary sacrifice to his cause. But you have a dark secret of your own. One that makes you difficult to murder. You decide to get revenge on him but these things can never be that simple.

Holy shit. My longest fic. Huge thanks to my little sis, @scene-and-dandylover for helping me. Warnings! Brief Kai POV! Murder! Violence! Talks of death! Hunting kink! Slapping! Spitting! Dub/non con! Daddy kink! Degrading! Choking! Oral! Both receiving! PnV! Complete filth and kink. Slow burn. Enemies to…fucking. If there’s mistakes, ignore them. Also please laugh at my jokes. Thanks.

She would be an easy target, even more susceptible to being slaughtered. What a hell of a way to send a message. Murder a sweet, innocent girl to show no one was safe. No one could be trusted.

Kai didn’t really give a shit, if he was being honest as he secured the mask over his head. Moves and counter moves to get to the top. Always achieve the next best thing. No matter how many people he would destroy to get there.

He crept silently out of the shadows, Harrison, Samuels and Ivy (🤢) on either side of him. The girl had locked the door but he had snuck out a spare out of her purse. It was while she walked into a book store last week and he brushed by her. Fucking nerd. He didn’t have time for books.

As he pulled out the key, unlocking the door and he moved in the entryway. His eyes darted, observing his surroundings. The lights were out but he took notice of a modest living room, flatscreen tv and one white couch. It was only the mother and the girl. Kai’s lip curled and he snorted at the sight of two filled bookshelves.

Harrison turned, his tall form nearly clumsy as he pointed to the wood stairs. Kai extended his hand out in a pausing motion. “You three, go upstairs. Try not to fuck while we’re here. We don’t have time. Bring her down. We’ll kill her at my house.”

Samuel’s tilted his head, his mask going lopsided. “We’re not killing her here?”

Kai bristled, “You’re questioning me?” How dare he? In the middle of this? Was he fucking serious?

“No, Divine Ruler.” He shook his head obediently. Like a dog. Ivy had been silent but Kai gestured harshly with his middle finger for her to follow then.

The trio walked up the stairs, they creaked from age and the weight of their feet. Kai flicked his leather coat, swaggering to the living room. Despite the lack of light, he studied the photos. Baby pictures, a wedding celebration and then he halted at the portrait.

It was her.

He had seen her, yes. Followed her. Stole something from her belongings. But this was different. He collected it, held it steady in his gloved hand. A pressure in his core shivered inside him. She was pretty. More than fucking pretty. Beautiful even.

She smiled brightly, her hair styled and clothes flattering her figure. The twinkle in her eye told him she had been laughing before it was captured. He traced his finger on her mouth before it slowly circled her chest.

It was a damn shame. Any other occasion, he would splay her on his bed, hell even against the wall and fuck her until she forgot her name. Only remembering she was his fuck toy.

Kai set the frame down and waited.

You knew intruders were in the house. Years of experience trained your hearing to pick up on the smallest, subtle changes in your environment. You had settled in your bed, oversized sweatshirt and comfortable shorts when the uncharacteristic noise came from downstairs.

Your window was too small to escape from. The closet was a horrendous choice for a hiding spot. Your bed didn’t have any space underneath. Your mother was away for the evening and it wouldn’t be unusual for her to not hear from you for a long period of time. She wouldn’t realize if something happened for a while.

The rapid thudding of your heart rang in your ears as you tip toed to your closet. While you couldn’t hide there, it secured necessary items. You shoved away the bag that held your vibrator, maybe for another time, before your hands settled on aluminum baseball bat.

The weight was comfortable in your grip as you balanced it against your side, the shadows obscured the blood stains you couldn’t get out as your other hand felt for the hunting knife contained in its sheath.

You inhaled deeply before rushing over to stand on the other side of your door. Gingerly, your thumb and pointer finger turned the handle as you palmed the knife with your other digits. A trembling, addicting energy coursed through your veins as a twisted sense of excitement tightened your belly.

Surveying the small space in front of your room, you shrunk back as a slim, taller than you figure, wearing a pin stripped pant suit, presumably a woman, brushed by. You registered a mask, an elephant one before it turned sharply towards you. Springing forward, you didn’t hesitate as you smashed the blade into the side of her neck.

A gurgle came out of her throat and you kicked her knees in, forcing her to slide onto the ground. Blood spilling onto the rug. You ripped the knife out before you flung yourself down the hall, pinning your body against the wall beside the laundry shoot and your mothers bedroom. It was awkward, the hunting blade slipping from your hold as you squeezed the end of the bat.

Two more came, one extremely tall with a disturbing clown mask, wide and fanged teeth into a grin. The other was shorter but stocky. He also wore a clown disguise. The large one stopped in his tracks as they saw the dead body. You assumed she was dead. On her way at least.

“Ah, fuck! She got her! Fucking find her!” He shouted. They moved over her body and big man’s mask jerked in your direction. You had to act fast. Stocky man skillfully attempted to grasp your hair but you ducked in between them.

Hands locked around your shorts and that’s when you swung the bat. It clanged against big man’s mask but the way he stumbled back told you that it made contact with his physical head. Jumping to your feet, you hit him again, this time on his crotch. He crumpled to the floor. Arms wrapped around your neck but you sliced the knife across Stocky man’s torso.

“Motherfucker!” He growled as you ripped away. But big man collected himself while you were distracted and his palm smashed your forehead against the wall.

The knife was torn from your grip and the bat fell from the impact. He hit your head again and your legs went slack. But he stopped, assuming you were falling unconscious. You were able to blink away the black spots in your vision as stocky man wrapped his hands around your throat, shoving you against the wall.

Your fingernails clawed at his arms but to no avail. Your airway was cut off as you sucked in but you grew hot. Your knee him in between his legs but he anticipated the assault. You could smell his cologne. Big man watched, his fingertips flexing and your mind shrieked at you.

You grabbed the mask, yanking it off his face.

“Shit!”

He was a young man, thirties, with platinum blonde hair. He was handsome. For a sadist wearing a clown costume. He had released you and you doubled over and coughed.

“Enough of this bullshit. I don’t have to kill her for this to hurt.” The unmasked man had your knife, something you hadn’t registered.

“What the fuck is the-“ A new voice entered the scene and you whipped your head to the direction it came from.

Another masked man, this one had three terrifying faces and long noses. He was tall, not the same as big man, wearing a long black coat, combat boots and gloves. By the way he paused, you concluded he was shocked by the carnage.

“You fucking let her kill Ivy? This fucking girl is holding us up?” He snarled.

You knew immediately. They were going to take you to a second location and kill you.

Hell no.

The unmasked male, happy hands, lifted the knife. Rage reddening his features and your hand automatically swung upward to block your face.

“I said don’t fucking kill her yet!” Ringleader screamed and the razor sharp blade plunged inside your palm.

You froze, pain didn’t come, it was numbed by adrenaline.

You dumbly looked at your quivering hand. It was so deep that the hilt kissed the bone. But they were frozen too. Gritting your teeth, you turned your hand as backward as it would go and you stepped forward, slitting the responsible man’s for this injury, throat.

He clung his hands against his neck, eyes bugging out as blood gushed. The taller man grabbed him, pulling him into his chest as a lover would and your ears were ringing.

You sprinted toward the stairs and with your remaining strength and the element of surprise, you shoved the man in all black out of your way.

Shock kept you from tripping as you burst through the front door with your shoulder, the night air filling your nostrils and you spun to the left, the neighbors. Get to their house. Get to a phone.

Luckily, the lights were on at the house next to yours. Your feet carried you as they were growing slack, you jerked your head to the side and made yourself stay away.

The porch was a blur as you collapsed in front of the door. With your uninjured hand, you pounded on the glass screen. “Help! Please, help me!”

Less than a minute went by, an middle aged black woman answered. Her brown eyes took in your state and she knelt down. “Oh god, what happened?”

“Please, help me.” You cringed as she wrapped your arm around her shoulder, lifting you from the concrete.

“It’s okay, my name is Beverly. I’ll help you, it’s all going to be okay.”

Hours went by, the police came and the ambulance workers wrapped your hand. They searched the house and didn’t find anyone. Not a body. The rugs were removed, taking away any blood evidence. They had worn gloves. Presumably, they had enough time to flee.

You had called your mother, she wailed and wailed over you. But you managed to calm her down. Especially since you stitched your own hand together with Beverly’s sewing kit. She informed you that you were welcome to stay over as long as you needed. It was well past midnight and you were too wired to sleep.

She had gone to her room and you paced back and forth in the main area. Why the fuck did they break in? What the hell was that? You saw these attacks on the news, the clowns but you hadn’t paid close attention. How did they know you’d be alone? Why you?

They weren’t expecting a fight, which most people wouldn’t considering your background. Rough childhood, insane adolescence and finally a mental breakdown. They also wouldn’t know about your other hobbies. They caught you in a moment of weakness.

It would never happen again.

You plopped on the couch, sighing into your bandaged palm. They were smart enough to cover their tracks, but were they intelligent enough to stay away from you? Doubtful. You’d need to keep your head down for a while. Take a break from your day to day life and stay home.

You reached to turn off the lamp when you noticed a white corner underneath a book about journalism. Beverly revealed that she was a news anchor. Which you didn’t know because you barely watched the news, hence why you hadn’t paid enough attention to the clowns but hell. Curiously, you peeled the piece of paper out and held it close.

Your heart stopped.

It was a list of names.

Most of them were crossed out. But your mothers name and your own, were on there. Your brows quirked together. What the hell-

Oh, shit. Dead. They were dead. You were supposed to die. But how would they know about you? About your home? Unless…your head turned towards the stairs. Of course. She knew. She had to know.

You were going to fucking find out.

Without a care, you dug through all the drawers until you settled on a hammer. The weight was uneven, but it would do the job. She had gloves, bleach and salt, the perfect concoction. Your shoulders were straight as you went up the stairs.

It was time for her to talk.

Another murder. A helpless, middle aged woman tortured in her own home, the same night a girl was attacked. The clowns were out of control. They were tormenting the city of Michigan. Everyone was terrified.

Except you.

You hid a chuckle behind your hand that still adorned the secured dressing as you set down your purse at the gym. It wasn’t…entirely difficult to get the names from Beverly but you did work up a sweat. But finally, you jotted down the names of the cult. The ridiculous thing. A cult? Run by some delusional blue berry look alike and his followers over shit about voting?

You didn’t know the names personally, including the leader, blueberry Kai Anderson. Except one.

Harrison Wilton. The Trainer where you worked out. You didn’t speak to him but you knew he would recognize you. You were on a mission. Make the sorry piece of shits regret ever targeting you. You snuck past the desk and made your way towards towards the men’s bathroom.

You blocked your vision as you passed naked men, some jerking off, some contemplating their sex lives and others watching porn. Jesus, didn’t they have better things to do? You hid in one of the showers, tucking yourself in the corner. He wouldn’t take advantage of your fear this time.

One hour, two hours, finally three fucking hours passed and you swore you had created ten more Pinterest boards, reconstructing your life with the internet soothed your nerves before committing murder, when you overheard new footsteps.

Peeking around the corner, you saw him walking in. You stepped back, listening to any other signs other men were in here. But you were positive it was empty. Harrison walked next to your hiding spot, you grabbed him by his shirt and body slammed him against the wall, knocking his skull against the shower head.

“Scream and I will gut you. Like the animal you are.” You hissed.

He tried to overpower you but with your position, it was too difficult for him to push you. Your arm was snug against his neck and a very small, but sharp needle was held an inch away from his eye.

“Holy-shit- it’s you-“ He managed but you pressed harder.

“You really shouldn’t have broken into my house, Harrison. You got your boyfriend killed. And now, I’m gonna kill you.”

“Who the fuck are you-“ Harrison choked and you trailed the needle to the side of his neck, digging enough to draw blood.

“Guess.”

“Fuck, I don’t know, a serial killer?” You gasped and leaned in closer.

“Jesus Christ, no. Serial killers space out their murders. I’m driven by the absolute need to get the job done. You could have least said something interesting. Any last words?”

He spat in your face. “He’ll find you.”

“I hope so.”

His death was quick, maybe a little too quick from your needle and he flopped on the floor. You flicked your hair back and smoothed your clothes. Another one bites the dust. The gym was empty but the door was still unlocked. Your car wasn’t far in the parking lot as you nearly skipped there. Holy shit. This was easy.

Hunting them down was fun.

You shut your door as you searched for the keys and your eyes flicked upward into your rearview mirror.

Someone was in your backseat. “Oh shit-“ You said before a flash of blue and pale skin hit the back of your head.

Your vision darkened around the edges as a male leaned forward.

“Blueberry cult leader?” You questioned before everything went black.

You weren’t completely asleep, sensing the movement of the car and feeling the air conditioner on your skin. But your body was limp. It took a lot of effort to fight, let alone kill someone. You couldn’t force yourself to move. You moaned, trying to swipe your hand at the blueberry/Kai Anderson. But it felt like a brick wall.

The vehicle came to a controlled stop. You slumped further, your eyes still fuzzy. Your side of the car opened, arms wrapped around you. Lifting you and holding you close to a hard chest. Fading in and out, you glanced up at the male, Kai who was carrying you easily.

You didn’t know how much time went by with you drifting until you fully opened your eyes. You pressed your wrapped hand against your temple, gathering details of this night. You killed Harrison. Went to your car. Kai was there. He hit you over the head. Hard. Where were you?

It looked like a basement. A couch, which you were laying on. A table with two chairs. A tv. A coffee table. Stairs leading to a door. A bathroom. A nice house for a cult leader. You jolted to a standing position before you stumbled. Still unsteady.

“Motherfucker.” You growled to yourself. Maybe you took too long. You should have checked your car. The one night you didn’t.

What was wrong with you? Why were you making these mistakes? You’d think after years of killing people you would be an expert by now. It was so exhausting keeping up. Maybe that’s why you needed beauty rest.

The upstairs door slowly opened and you stiffened. You balled your fists, difficult with one of your hands and you prepared for whoever came.

You saw a pair of black jeans, black shirt and zip up hoodie. You rolled your eyes when you saw the badly done blue hair. Pursing your lips, you crossed your arms as his boots stopped several feet away. His brown eyes darted across your face before falling on your chest. Your shirt had torn, cleavage peeked out but you didn’t bother covering it. Let him look.

“You don’t look happy to see me.” Kai fake pouted.

“I was happy. And then I saw you.”

He huffed a laugh before he extended his hand out.

“I think you know my name. And I know yours, y/n.”

“Why don’t you cut the bullshit? Are you here to kill me? Because that’s not going to work out for everyone.” You warned him. He shook his head before pulling his hand back.

“Of course not. That would be a waste. Why would I kill someone so impressive? A woman like you-strong, angry and beautiful?”

You groaned, letting your head fall back. “Jesus Christ. Can you just stop? I’m not angry. I’m trying to get even. It’s a simple matter. You broke into my house, I decided to kill all of you.”

“Oh? That’s your plan? I mean you’ve already killed four of my following. That’s not enough for you?” Kai pressed, taking a step forward.

You didn’t move. “Nope. You irritated me. Had Beverly spy on me? I mean what is this? A mission impossible movie? You’re pathetic. A pitiful little pretty boy.”

He continued moving in your direction with a small smirk. You didn’t like that. Or…did you? Kai’s boots touched your shoes and he lingered above you. “Aw, you think I’m pretty?”

“It’s a figure of speech, dickface.”

“Well, I think you’re a precious little princess. Pissy that someone out smarted you.”

You lifted your hand with your middle finger up. His smile widened into a grin and you were growing frustrated. What the fuck was he doing? Kai ducked his head down, quicker than you anticipated and pressed a kiss to your mouth.

You fell back, your ass hitting the ground with your limbs awkwardly splayed. “What the fuck was that, cunt bitch ass fucker? You fucking kissed me-“

Kai flew to you, clamping his hand around your jaw with a hidden strength you didn’t expect and he clenched his teeth. “Watch your mouth, precious. I would hate to fill it up with something to teach you a lesson.”

You tried to move out of his grasp but he didn’t budge. “Let go of me, you bitch.” He shook his head, clicking his tongue.

“So vulgar, is that how you should speak to your Divine Ruler, little lamb?”

“I’ll kill you too.” You hissed at him and he slowly nodded. His hold loosened and you leaned back, completely out of his fingers.

“Is that right? You’re going to kill me? In my own house? That’s just rude.” He settled on his knees in front of you, one of them almost too close to your inner thighs.

“There’s no escaping what I’ll do. It may not be today. Tomorrow. But I will.”

“No you won’t.” You almost screamed. He had you caged. He was physically stronger and you didn’t have any weapons. You were vulnerable. You didn’t know the layout of his house.

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because you’re going to become one of us, Y/N. You will join my cause. I’m not going to let you go, until you surrender to me.”

He had to be joking.

“Are you on crack?” He tilted his head at your exclaim before he started laughing. Loudly.

You were infuriated. How dare he. Did he think you were stupid? Did he think you were naive? Angrily, you shuffled forward and swung your hand to slap him. Damn him. Damn all of this. You should have stabbed him that night too.

But he caught your wrist. “Mmm. Nice try, precious. You’re so angry. And for what? You will join me. Whether you like it. Or not.”

“That’s your plan? To force me to join your bullshit cult? All because I killed your small dick friends?” Kai looked pissed off now.

“My men, Ivy and Beverly were loyal followers. And you killed them like animals. You’re lucky I don’t give you the same fate.”

“They were stupid, cowardly little fucks. And Harrison died like a pussy.” Something snapped in him from your taunting and his palm wrapped around your neck.

You choked and you scrambled to get your bearings but he had this skinny man supernatural strength that left you immobile. “One more word like that, one more and I swear to god I will-“

“So, do it. Fucking do it. You’re just trying to scare me.” You really needed to keep your mouth shut.

Kai inhaled deeply and rested his head against yours, almost gently. “How about I make you a deal?”

You didn’t have a choice but to listen. You really pissed him off. “What-what kind of deal?”

“I’ll give you a chance to get away. Escape. You’ll have a head start. If I don’t find you within five minutes, you can leave.”

You trembled. “And if I don’t? If you find me?”

Kai met your eyes and stroked your hair out of your face. “If I catch you, I fuck you. Making you mine. My little slave. And you’ll have to join me.”

Horror raked you. This was really happening. You felt weak for the first time in a long while. He wasn’t kidding. He cocked an eyebrow. “Time is ticking.”

You crawled away from him before leaping to your feet. The speed was in short bursts as you took three stairs at a time, bursting free from the basement.

Panting, you spun in circles in the hallway, frantically looking for any door. Come on…where the hell was the living room? You carried yourself like a mad woman, throwing your body forward as you screamed in relief when you saw the exit. The wide, wooden door. You tripped, hand locking around the handle and you couldn’t go fast enough as you saw the stars.

The grass sounded as you sprinted but you were starting to run out of air. You looked in all directions. You knew you were running out of time.

Your car. Skidding, you slid on your stomach as you army crawled underneath the metal. You pressed your lips together to muffle your sounds. Surely this was a good hiding spot, right? You weren’t used to this. Normally, people ran away from you. Your knees burned from the rough ground. Your elbows oozed blood but you ignored any sensation of pain.

You didn’t have a watch or your phone but you guessed four minutes passed. Just a little more, you’d be free.

A hand latched around your ankle, dragging you from underneath the car and you started screaming. You were flipped on your back, cringing as Kai gave you a sick, twisted smile. “Found you.”

“Get off me! Fucking get off!” You wailed pathetically but he started pulling you towards the house.

You clawed the grass, trying to get loose but it wasn’t working. “Help! Help me!” You kept yelling for any attention.

Kai hauled you up, lifting you off the earth floor and you thrashed. “No! Stop it! Let me go!” His arms were around your middle as he pushed open the door with his shoulder.

“Shhh, I gave you a chance and you lost. It’s better if you just accept it, precious.” You tried scratching, throwing your head back trying to make contact but it was useless.

Kai carried your wild moving body back to the basement and let you spill onto the carpet ground.

“Look at that. A pretty, little psycho trying to get away from me. How sweet.” Kai threw your defeat in your face.

“Fuck you!” You pressed your back against the couch, trying to put distance between you.

“Mmm, you will.” Kai’s eyebrows lifted. “No need to be so dramatic, precious.”

“Stop. Fucking. Calling. Me. That.”

“Stand up.” He said. You shook your head rapidly.

“Do it!” He shouted. Against your better judgment, you did.

He closed the gap between you, cupping the back of your head and his other hand gripping your hip. His scent was intoxicating, lips hovering over yours and big, brown eyes searching. The blood in your veins went cold…and then warm. Tears prickled your vision and you hated that. But you were trapped. Kai reminded you that he had the upper hand.

“Such a precious, little lamb. So perfect for me, perfect for me to fuck.You’re going to listen to me?” You shook your head and he sneered.

“Good.”

Kai smashed his lips to yours, his kiss brutal against your mouth as he brushed his tongue on your lower lip. Maybe it was lust, lust for power that overcame you, you didn’t know. But he tasted like toothpaste and alcohol. You opened your mouth and met his dominating pace. Kai’s hand slid to your ass, cupping the flesh as he bit your lip. Hard enough to make you wince.

He pushed you to your knees, making you stare up at him with wide eyes. “Don’t tell me you’ve never done this before, little lamb?” At your silence, he moaned. “Fuck, you really are mine, aren’t you? I’ll be nice and help you, little girl.”

He pulled his jeans down, his black boxers sleek against his pale complexion but you narrowed your focus on the apparent erection. His dick was big, more than you imagined with his insufferable energy, you were nervous.

Shaking fingers tugged down the fabric, his cock slapping against his stomach. His red, leaking tip warm to your touch. He groaned at the contact and he cupped your jaw. “Open your mouth, pretty girl.” Your mouth parted and you stuck out your tongue.

He brushed the tip of his dick across the flesh, slowly entering his cock past your lips as they wrapped around the tip. Hollowing your cheeks, Kai’s grip on your jaw moved to your hair and he pulled painfully tight. You breathed through your nose as he thrusted his pelvis, touching the back of your throat. Sucking him, your eyes watered but he moaned like a god damn porn star, urging you to continue.

“Fuck-you’re so-fuck, choke on it.” You swore your scalp would tear from his fingers but you became addicted to his pretty sounds.

Bobbing your head up and down, your own palms cupped the back of his thighs, keeping him still. “Take my cum down your fucking throat, princess. Be good for me.” A sticky, sweet substance pooled down your throat and he released you.

You cleared your throat, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Instead of pulling you up, Kai moved on top of you, his legs straddling your hips. His hand brushed past your cheek, your neck with his thumb before they massaged your breast. “Whiny little whore. Are you that easily wet? Let see.” He shoved his previous gentle fingers inside your shorts, past your underwear and he rubbed your sensitive clit. You arched, pressing your forehead against his shoulder.

“Such a pretty little slut. This is so fucking easy.” He inserted his digits into his mouth, sucking your taste.

“Wait-“ You tried to protest as he ripped your shorts and underwear off. Throwing them in the distance. “No-no-I did what you wanted-I blew you-“

Kai separated your thighs harshly, spreading your cunt with his fingers before he flattened his tongue. Licking slow circles around your clit. You tried to move away, hating how fucking good it felt but he wouldn’t let you. “You taste so fucking good, so sweet.” His tongue slipped inside you, before it lapped your slick and repeated the motions.

“Fuck-“ You squeaked, squeezing your eyes shut. The pleasure was like lightening, your heart pounded inside your rib cage.

“This pussy is mine, isn’t that right?” He said against your cunt. You couldn’t find words as he continued his assault.

“Say it.” You moaned as your stomach tightened. You knew the sensation from your vibrator but this was even more intense.

A slap against your pussy made you cry out in pain. Kai’s fingernails dug deep into your skin as he kept your legs spread. “Fucking say it. Who does this pussy belong too?”

“Y-you!” You breathed, barely audible. Kai shook his head, the speed of his tongue changing as he was unhappy with your answer.

“What do you call me? Come on. What do you call, your Divine ruler?” Your lips formed the title before another name came to your mind.

“Yours, Daddy. It’s yours.” Your head moved to the side, gasps and moans escaping your mouth as he devoured you. You were close, so close to cumming.

“Who’s pussy is this? One more time and I’ll let you cum.”

“My pussy is yours, daddy.” The wave hit you and you thrusted against his face. You couldn’t catch your breath as he shuffled over you.

“You taste so good, little lamb. Such a sweet little slut. I think I should share,” Kai tugged your mouth open with his thumb and spat inside.

“Swallow it.” You obeyed, losing any sense at this rate.

Kai wasted no time, lining his tip with your entrance. You figured he was a unprotected sex freak but you had an IUD. You never knew when this moment would come. “Make sure to breathe,” He said against your ear.

A dull pain came as he thrusted his cock deep inside your pussy but it wasn’t as bad as you imagined. You felt full as you wrapped your thighs around his waist. You whimpered as he moved harder, his thumb stimulating your clit at the same time.

“Such a good little bitch, taking me so well. Fuck, you’re so tight.” Kai groaned and your eyes rolled back.

You weren’t going to last long and by his speed you knew he wouldn’t either. Kai held his weight on his elbows, his lips peppering kisses down your neck. Now, he was vulnerable. Just like you. A sadistic idea played in your head and you tightened your legs around him. “More, daddy. More,” You begged.

Kai lifted his head from your neck, his eyes locked on yours.

“You’re my pretty boy, Daddy. I want you to cum in me.” You made your voice as pleading as you could.

“Fuck, I think you’re trying to kill me.” He choked. You pressed your lips against his, sucking his lower lip as his hips jerked. Your pussy pulsing from his cock, “keep going, daddy. Cum in me, please.”

That sent him over the edge, you weren’t far either as you both cried out in pleasure. Your hair was stuck against your forehead as he pulled out. The pressure released but an ache left you sore. Kai put his boxers back on but left you bare. He gave you a triumphant smirk. “Daddy’s so proud of you, little lamb. I knew I would win this little game between us. I always do.”

You chuckled and lifted yourself to a seat.

“And I’m so proud of you, my pretty boy.”

He won.

This round.

Taglist. @howtobesasha @icannot3 @ifeeltoofuckingmuch @evanptrss @randodummy @alittlesil @quickandsilvers @hyperharlz

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fortheloveofwonderland · 4 months

Text

Darkness Declares Glory | Chapter 20 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - Spencer wakes from his coma and Luke is faced with a dilemma on how to facilitate his recovery. With the help of some wise words from Emily, they make a decision regarding his rehabilitation. In the mean time, you receive another visit.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - dark angst | smut | eventual happy ending.

Warnings - tears, hospitals, talk of wanting to die, mentions of being committed, swearing, reader back story with vague mentions of bad home life and drug use and sexual activities, arguing, Luke has to lay some harsh truths on Spencer.

WC - 4.5k

Chapter 20 - Begin Again

It was two weeks after Luke’s visit to PIW to see you that he received the phone call from the hospital. He’d spent most of his time there and briefly popped home to have a shower and change as he’d been wearing the same clothes for three days.

He’d just exited the bathroom, one towel slung around his waist, another in his hand that he attempted to dry his wet hair with. Roxy was at the sitters and Luke hated being home, even for an hour, without her here. He finished mussing his hair and tossed the smaller of the towels on the bed. As he was heading to his closet, his phone started ringing from the night stand.

The next thirty minutes of Luke’s life was a complete blur. After the phone call he must have dressed but he barely remembered doing so, jumped in his car and broke several speed limits as he hurried back to the hospital. He made a phone call at some point but couldn’t entirely remember the content. He had a vague recollection of parking but would later struggle to remember where he left his vehicle.

He recalled running through hospital corridors, bumping into a few people on his way and shooting rapid apologies on his way to Spencer’s floor. He was out of breath by the time he made it, opting to take the stairs as the elevator was taking too long.

He flung open the door of the room he’d practically inhabited for nearly three weeks, the sound of the machines flooding his ears as soon as he did. He’d started to believe he’d never see those eyes looking back at him but now they were, it filled Luke with a flurry of emotions. Those eyes blinked a couple of times, a sad and slightly morbid smile playing at his cracked lips.

“I heard you saved my life” Spencer croaked as Luke closed the door behind him.

Luke nodded stiffly, slowly moving further into the room and desperate to keep his tears at bay. He came to the side of Spencer’s bed and Spencer rolled his head to the side on the pillow to look at him.

“And I read your letter. And I can only assume that’s not what I was supposed to do.” Luke spoke sadly.

“Naloxone.” Spencer mused. “I should have known, what with your girlfriend being a physician.”

“Ex-girl-” Luke stopped himself short and shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. You’re ok, that’s all that matters.”

“Yeah.” Spencer exhaled deeply. “Super.”

Without invitation Luke set himself on the small empty space on the bed next to Spencer’s hip. Spencer looked away from him and Luke saw his eyes gloss over with tears.

“You really wanted me to let you die?” Luke’s voice cracked with emotion as he spoke.

“You said you read my letter. Did it sound like I wanted to be saved?”

“Why did you come to me? If you really wanted to die you were more likely to achieve that if you were alone.”

“The thought of dying alone scared me.” Spencer blinked back his tears, looking back at Luke. “I wanted someone there at the end. Someone I trusted.”

“Do you not think maybe it was just the thought of dying that scared you?” Luke asked softly and Spencer knew what he wanted the answer to be. But Spencer wasn’t going to lie to him.

“No. Truthfully, living scares me more than dying.” Spencer brought his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes. “Life comes with a significant amount of pressure, pressure which I can no longer stand the weight of. I’ve tried, Luke. I’ve tried so hard and I’m just so tired of it all. Life has exhausted me. I don’t…I don’t want to be here anymore.”

Spencer’s tears escaped and he got choked up. Luke clenched his jaw, furiously rubbing his eyes to keep his own tears at bay. His heart was shattering for his friend, for the pain he must be feeling. For the disappointment Spencer had in releasing he’d survived yet again.

“Jesus,” Luke swallowed thickly. “Now I feel bad for saving you.”

Spencer surprised him when, despite his tears, he chuckled dryly.

“I might be thankful for it one day, who knows. But right now I’m a little annoyed about it to be honest.”

“I wouldn’t do anything differently.” Luke shook his head. “You came to me for a reason and I was going to do anything I could to help you. I wasn’t just going to let you die, no matter how much you wished I had.”

Spencer rolled his lip between his teeth and nodded. He rubbed his face with his hands.

“Three weeks huh?” He changed the subject suddenly. “That’s what the doctor said.”

“Yeah. It’s been the longest three weeks of all of our lives.”

“Where are they all? I expected to be flooded with visitors.” Spencer smiled wearily.

“Indiana. Garcia is calling them. I imagine she’ll be on her way here.”

“Why weren’t you in Indiana?” Spencer narrowed his eyes on Luke.

“I haven’t been anywhere but here and home since you were admitted.” He shrugged. “You wanted me there at the end, but I wanted to be there at the beginning. The beginning of the rest of your life, the start of your road to recovery.”

“Again.” Spencer sighed. “I’m at the beginning again.”

“It’s the best place to start.” Luke forced a smile, trying to encourage Spencer.

“Yeah.” He nodded but didn’t seem as though he really agreed.

Moments later the door flew open, rocking against its hinges as a brightly coloured blur came crashing into the room, heels clicking on the floor as she ran to the bedside.

“Boy wonder! Oh my gosh you’re alive!” The bubbly blonde practically threw herself at Spencer, seemingly ignoring Luke’s presence.

“Lucky me.” Spencer sighed as he was pulled into Garcia’s arms.

While Penelope fussed over Spencer, Luke slid off the bed and quietly slipped from the room. He was happy Spencer was alive but he wished the younger man felt the same. And now he’d made it through, Luke was faced with a difficult decision on where he went from here.

Spencer asked him in his letter to have him committed, but he knew that now Spencer was awake, he was going to resist, fight him on the idea. If Luke did what his letter dictated then he would have to be the bad guy, he would have to force this on Spencer. Luke didn’t want to be in this position, this kind of decision didn’t seem fair to fall on his shoulders.

He had a lot to think about. And a lot was riding on it.

***

It was two days later the team arrived back from Indiana and descended upon the hospital. Luke had done nothing but think about his predicament and was yet to make any kind of logical decision on the matter.

He was nursing a cup of terrible coffee in the desolate hospital cafeteria when she found him. It was the middle of the night and all he really wanted was to crawl into bed with Roxy and not have to deal with any of this.

She weaved between empty tables and slid into the chair opposite him. He glanced up at her and offered her a sad half-smile as he cupped the coffee.

“I thought you’d be happy. He’s alive, you saved his life.” Emily returned the sad smile.

“Yeah.” Luke sighed as he spoke. “But what I’ve got to do next is kinda concerning me.”

Emily narrowed her eyes on him, a hint of confusion on her features. Luke reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter before sliding it across the table.

Emily picked it up and read through it. He watched the way her expression changed at certain parts. He sipped the coffee while he waited, grimacing at the taste but continuing to drink it nonetheless. When she was finished she folded the piece of paper and laced her fingers together.

“Oh.” Was all she said. Luke was hoping she’d have something more fruitful to offer.

“Why me, Emily? Why did he choose me?” Luke looked so torn and so confused.

“Oh come on.” Emily couldn’t help but laugh.

“What?”

“Are you really so naive? Spencer adores you. Since the first time I saw you two together there has been this bond between you. At first I thought it was transference, after Morgan left it kinda sent Reid into a tailspin. Morgan was like his older brother, always looking out for him and he lost that when Morgan left the team.” Emily explained but Luke was frowning.

“I’m still not sure I follow.” He scratched the back of his neck and Emily rolled her eyes.

“It’s different with the two of you. Less older brother, little brother and something more equal. Spencer does not open up to people easily, he gave me such a hard time when I joined the team. It was different when you joined, it was as though the two of you had known each other your whole lives. You can’t tell me you don’t see that?” Emily laid it out for him, a small smiling toying at her lips.

“I guess we kinda bonded.” Luke agreed. “But you and JJ and Garcia have all known him so much longer than I have. I was surprised.”

“Time doesn’t mean a thing, Luke. There’s a level of understanding and trust between the two of you that surpasses what we have with him. I’m not in the least bit surprised he chose you.” She reached across the table and patted his arm.

“That doesn’t really make the decision any easier.” He sighed heavily. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“He was pretty clear in his letter.” Emily shrugged. “And I can only assume because it’s actually somewhat legible and makes sense that he wrote it before he got high. He’s detoxing again now, the drugs are still in his system so he probably will fight you on it. But he was of sound mind when he wrote this and he said he wants you to have him committed.”

“I don’t know, Emily. A padded cell? Are we really at that stage?”

“They don’t call them padded cells anymore, Alvez, they’re called calming rooms or de-escalation rooms.” She corrected him.

“And you know that, because?” He frowned at her.

“Because I considered it before I had him sent to PIW.” She confessed. “I didn’t think it was the right place for him at the time, I was hoping the institute would be enough. But I think we are at that stage now.”

“What else do you know about them? Maybe if I had more information it would help.” He should have thought of that. It’s what Spencer would have done, research.

“Well, they are used for the supervised confinement of a patient, who is severely disturbed and poses harm to themselves or others. They have to, by law, allow communication between the patient and medical professionals through an intercom or something of the like. Include limited furnishings, a bed, pillow, mattress and a blanket. Reinforced windows, that provide natural light, controlled lighting, robust doors that open outwards.” She shrugged.

“He’d have a bed?” Luke questioned which made Emily chuckle.

“Yes, what did you expect that he’d be alone in the corner of a padded room in a straight jacket?”

“I honestly don’t know what I expected.”

“You watch too many movies. The room would still be padded with, like, foam or something else soft. The point of them is to reduce the amount of visual and auditory stimuli which is supposed to create a calming effect.”

“It sounds like solitary confinement. I may as well be sending him back to prison.” Luke groaned.

“I honestly think it’s the best place for him, Luke. He can detox, get his withdrawals out of his system in a safe environment where he has no distractions. It wouldn’t be forever, just until he’s over the worst of it and then I guess we look at sending him back to a psychiatric facility like PIW for rehabilitation. But he won’t make it if we send him back there now. I can almost guarantee he will find a way to relapse again if he goes back to a facility like that now.”

Luke knew she was right. Aside from Spencer, Emily was the smartest person he knew. And not only was she smart, she was rational. Everything she said made perfect sense and he agreed with her. It didn’t make the situation any less shit though.

“I hate that he’s put this on me.” Luke whined a little. “It’s not fair. None of this is fair.”

“He trusts you.” Emily shrugged, pushing her chair back. “He trusts you to make the right call for him. You and no one else.”

“What if I make the wrong decision?” Luke followed suit and stood too.

“You won’t.” Emily shot him a knowing smile.

Luke smiled back, admittedly feeling lighter after his talk with Emily but he still had his reservations. His mind wasn’t made up, not by a long shot, but at least he was armed with more information now. And even if he did totally fuck this up, he knew he always had his team on his side.

Even if Spencer wasn’t.

***

When Doctor Yang informed you that you had a visitor a little over two weeks after the last, you were elated if truth be told. You’d hadn’t expected Luke to come back, but you were over the moon that he had. He didn’t have to be here, he worked for the FBI and no doubt had other stuff going on in his life; why should he waste his precious time with someone he barely knew?

You’d gotten used to being alone. You’d run away from home when you were sixteen and never looked back. As far as you knew your parents had never looked for you. You bounced between friends' couches, sometimes sleeping on the streets but it was preferable to being in that house.

You’d been just shy of eighteen the first time you’d been given drugs, by an older guy you’d been hooking up with. You’d never even so much as smoked a cigarette before, but after the first time you snorted cocaine, there had been no going back.

For years this cycle continued. You had a string of older guys offering you drugs in exchange for sexual favours. Sometimes they gave you a place to stay for the night, other times you slept rough. At some point one of those guys must have been Spencer, but you didn’t take payment with drugs for your night spent with him.

He’d been good to you, you remembered that much. Usually the men you slept with used you for their own pleasure, not caring if you were getting off on it or not. But Spencer was different. You recalled him spending a long time that night focused on you, bestowing upon you more orgasms than you’d had in a really long time.

Even afterwards once the two of you were both spent you had a hazy memory of him holding you in arms, peppering your skin with kisses. You could vaguely feel his lips on your flesh, the way his breath fanned against you.

“I could lay like this with you forever, angel.”

“Me too.”

You weren’t sure either of you had actually uttered those words, maybe you’d created your own false memories of that night. But you liked to believe that was what had happened. At some point you must have left, you didn’t stay the night, you would have remembered waking up to him in the morning. And so your routine continued.

For a long time you were content with this lifestyle but then something had shifted. One morning after a particularly heavy binge you’d woken up in a nondescript room surrounded by the remains of drug paraphernalia and an array of used condoms. You were sore from the top of your head to the soles of your feet and covered in bruises and cuts that you had no memory of.

You knew something had to give.

And so you’d checked yourself into the Psychiatric Institute of Washington and vowed to yourself you would never end up in a situation like that again.

You were adept at being alone, but seeing SSA Luke Alvez waiting for you in the day room that afternoon filled you with joy. Someone cared. In a small way, someone cared about you. It was a welcome feeling.

“Didn’t expect you to come back.” You smiled as you slid into the chair opposite him.

“I said I would.” He smiled back. “I’m a man of my word.”

“It, uh, means a lot. People are only usually nice to me when they want something in return. Men especially.” You blushed a little and your expression told Luke exactly what you meant.

“Oh god.” He frowned in disgust. “Jesus, I’m…I’m sorry. I hope you don’t think-”

“You seem like a decent guy.” You cut him off. “I mean, you’re an FBI agent for a start.”

“Yeah but even FBI agents aren’t always…you know.” He shrugged, clearly talking about Spencer.

“Right.” You nodded. “Point taken. But for the record, addiction and everything aside, he is still a decent guy. He wasn’t like the others. From what I can remember anyway.”

“Yeah I don’t think he’s got a bad bone in his body.” Luke agreed.

“Are you going to tell me how he is or do I specifically have to ask?” Your lip twitched at the corner.

“He’s awake. He woke up a few days ago.” Luke nodded.

“How is he?”

“I think you can probably hazard a guess.”

“What’s going to happen to him now? Is he coming back?” You were equal parts excited and deflated at the thought of Spencer returning to PIW.

You wanted to see him again, more than you’d ever wanted any drug. But it could also be detrimental to you to see him again.

“He, uh, he wants me to have him committed. Padded cell kinda thing. Although apparently I’m not supposed to call them that anymore.” Luke scratched the back of his neck.

“Calming rooms.” You corrected him. “He said that to you?”

“Not exactly. It was in the letter he wrote me.”

“And you think he’s going to have changed his mind about that.” You surmised.

“I don’t think that, I know that he has. He keeps asking when he can go home.” Luke pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You know what will happen if he goes home though, right?” You spoke softly.

“He will take drugs. He will probably kill himself.” Luke sighed deeply.

“Most likely, yes.” You shrugged sadly. “Unfortunately us addicts are quite predictable.”

“What would you do? If you were released right now, what would you do?” Luke leant forward on the table.

“Much the same as what Spencer would.” You smiled wryly. “I’m four months sober but I’d still go out and buy drugs, I’m sure of it. And that’s why I know this is where I need to be.”

“I want to help him, I would literally do anything to help him. But I’m scared that if I force him into a place like that he’ll never forgive me.” Luke rolled his lip between his teeth.

“He might not.” You agreed. You didn’t want to sit here and lie to Luke, not after how nice he was being. “But if it helps him get better, to finally beat this, would it be worth it?”

“Undoubtedly.” Luke didn’t miss a beat.

“Then there’s your answer.” You smiled at him and he smiled back.

“I can see why Spencer likes you.”

“Hmm must my charm.”

“Must be.” He nodded in agreement. “You wanna take a walk or something?”

“Sure.” You pushed your chair back and he did the same.

As you led him outside you smiled to yourself. It was nice to have an ally, a friend even. Luke was kind and sweet and he made you feel connected to Spencer in some way. You hoped maybe you’d be able to continue this friendship even once you left this place.

SSA Luke Alvez was a good person to have on your side.

***

“Hey, man.” Luke edged the door open tentatively and spoke in a hushed tone in case Spencer was asleep.

But Spencer was wide awake, like usual, staring out of the window from his hospital bed.

“Hey,” he pulled the sheet up to his chin. “It’s late, what are you doing here?”

“I, uh, just got back from PIW.” Luke padded over to his bedside and slid into the chair.

“Why were you at PIW?” Spencer frowned at him.

“I went to see Y/N.” Luke shrugged.

“Why?” Spencer’s frown only deepened.

“I went and saw her right after you fell into a coma, I thought she’d want to know. She seemed to like having someone to talk to, I think she’s pretty much alone and I thought she could use a friend.”

“How is she?” Spencer swallowed thickly.

“You know.” Luke shrugged. “She misses you.”

“She told me she didn’t want to be with me so I’m quite sure that she doesn’t.” Spencer huffed, folding his arms.

“She just wants to stay clean, Spencer. She’s scared that the two of you would only enable each other.” Luke spoke softly but Spencer scoffed.

“Whatever, I don’t wanna talk about her.” He shook his head. “When can I go home?”

Luke exhaled heavily, running his hands over his thick stubble. Between his conversations with you and Emily he knew what he had to do. But it wasn’t going to be easy.

“You aren’t going home.” Luke whispered.

“Well I’m certainly not going back to PIW.” Spencer growled.

“No, you’re not.” Luke shook his head. “There’s a place up in Virginia that we think you’d benefit from spending time at. In the morning the doctor is going to assess you to see if you fit the criteria but I think you will. And, uh, well the state of Virginia allows for any interested person to involuntarily commit someone so I guess in this instance, that’s me.”

Spencer glared at him wildly while he spoke, hands coming to grip the bed sheet so tightly his knuckles turned white. Luke could see the vein in his forehead pulsing angrily just as he’d suspected.

“No.” Spencer croaked, shaking his head. “Not again. I won’t be forced into a place like that again, you can’t make me!”

“Yeah, I can.” Luke sighed. “You told me in your letter to do this, Spencer.”

“I didn’t know what I was talking about!” Spencer slammed his fists against the mattress, raising his voice. “I just want to go home!”

“You wanna go home so you can kill yourself?” Luke yelled back, jumping up from the chair. “Not on my watch!”

“If I want to kill myself that is none of your concern.” Spencer spat as Luke loomed over him.

“Too damn bad, because I am making it my concern.” Luke barked, unsure where exactly this sudden anger was coming from. “Do you have any idea what it was like for me to witness you overdosing on my floor? Do you have any fucking clue how scary that was for me? To see one of my best friends dying and knowing I would never forgive myself if something had happened to you!

I appreciate you didn’t want to die alone but that was really shitty of you to put that on me. I can’t fucking sleep, Spencer! Every time I close my eyes I see you seizing on my damn floor! It wasn’t fair of you to do that. None of this has been fair on anyone! Your addiction has made you selfish and it’s not just yourself it’s destroying. It kills all of us to see you like this and feel so fucking helpless. So yeah, it’s my concern. And I will not let you relapse again or kill yourself, ok? You are going to be committed Spencer. And if you wanna hate me for that, be my guest. But I’d rather you hate me than watch you die.”

By the time Luke was finished he was seething, foaming at the mouth and Spencer resembled a small child being told off by his father. Luke had never spoken to him in that way, Spencer wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Luke talk to anyone that way.

Spencer didn’t even know how to respond and so he didn’t, instead he shrunk further down in the bed as if the thin hospital sheet could protect him from Luke’s anger.

Luke knew if he stayed he’d inevitably say more things that wouldn’t help and make matters worse so instead he spun on his heels and quickly crossed the room to the door.

Spencer watched him go, tears welling in his eyes. As soon as Luke was gone and closing the door behind him, they overflowed.

Luke was right, he’d been selfish. He’d never stopped to think about how any of this had affected those closest to him. It had never occurred to him how much they were suffering because of what Spencer was doing to himself.

Had he really thought it was fair of him to die by Luke’s side? His only thought had been that he didn’t want to be alone at the end but he didn’t take into consideration how much his death might fuck Luke up.

He’d been a terrible friend, a terrible person. He’d gotten mad at you because you’d done the smart thing and put yourself first. But Spencer knew you’d also been right, the two of you would never work, your addictive personalities would only be each other's downfall.

George had been right too. Spencer spent so much of his time blaming other people for this mess rather than taking accountability for his own actions. He blamed Cat for sending him to prison and ultimately leading him back to drugs but she hadn’t forced the dilaudid in his hand. He’d made that decision to relapse, no one else had.

He’d broken the rules and he’d been caught, it wasn’t George’s fault, he’d simply been doing his job. And it was Spencer who had made the decision to leave the institute, no one else had forced him to. And it had been his choice to relapse upon leaving.

This was all on him. Pointing the finger of blame had been easier than admitting responsibility for his own actions. But at the end of the day, everything that had led him here had been completely in his own hands.

Maybe he needed to be committed, locked away where he couldn’t hurt himself or burden those he loved. And even if he didn’t want to get clean for himself, he should at the very least try for those seven people who had been there for him through thick and thin. He should do it for those people who’s love and support for him had never wavered.

If he couldn’t do it for himself he was going to do it for them. For Luke Alvez. For Emily Prentiss. For Penelope Garica and Jennifer Jareau. For David Rossi. For Tara Lewis and Matt Simmons.

He would do it for them. It was the least he could do.

@tiredmilky @thatsonezesty13 @1mechanicalalligator @elle-28 @academiareid

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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malcolm-reeds-pineapple · 3 months

Text

Threshold: live vicariously through me

Neelix, be loathed or beloved cook depending who you ask solves an engineering problem that two engineers and cocky flyboy with daddy issues can’t fix

Successful simulation

Great idea! Give the cocky flyboy pilot an ego boost that he very much doesn’t need by calling saying he’ll be a pioneer like Neil Armstrong or Zephram Cochrane! I don’t foresee that being an issue

It is an issue in the next scene

Cocky flyboy pilot argues with captain about going on the live test. L+Daddy issues+ratio. This scene exists for the sole purpose of telling us Tom has daddy issues and a superiority complex as if we couldn’t already tell

Cocky flyboy exceeds warp 10 on the shuttle they’ve named Cochrane as yet another ego boost to a man who does not need one

Warp ten: achieved. Flyboy: off the long range sensors. WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Whoopsies he and the shuttle have materialised on the ship

Sick bay time

My man fucking ascended and existed everywhere and nowhere for a lil bit in an extremely Daniel Jackson From Stargate turn of events

Wow this is a normal episode of voyager so far……. A little goofy, maybe but not terrible

Just kidding he’s having an allergic reaction to water and can no longer breathe oxygen

He’s over sharing about losing his virginity and then randomly screams pepperoni and then demands pizza

Also wants kess to kiss him cuz he thinks he’s gonna die but she can’t breathe the nitrogen air and he dies kissless

KESS KISSES HIS FOREHEAD AFTER HE DIES????????!!?!????!?!!!?

Sike! Once again Inspired by beloved archaeologist, Daniel Jackson, he has come back to life and scared the hologram doctor but he’s losing hair and has another heart

A lower decker is a spy! Subplot that I forgot about

30 seconds of total footage about that so far

Back to Tom Paris Lizard Arc

He’s gross now and he’s snarkier than usual and Is Not Taking This Well and is having a Meltdown™️

Damn he tried to attack the captain and then bounced off the force field like a fly off a windshield

HOLY FUCK HE COUGHED UP HIS OWN TONGUE LMAO

His DNA is just constantly changing on a second by second basis

He’s Enlightened and he MUST leave this ship because “the future is in the past”

They’re gonna shove him in the warp core to fix him (kinda)

THE LIZARD MAN HAS BREACHED CONTAINMENT BITCH!!!!!

He has kidnapped his own captain and is going on a joyride in the shuttle (hehe they’re headed to warp 10 again!!!)

Chakotay is ON THE JOB

The doctor cracked the code: Tom is evolving at rapid speed, proving that salamander is the APEX HUMAN FORM

They’ve located Paris and the captain. They are full salamanders on a jungle planet

awwww cute little baby salamanders!!

and Chakotay LEFT THEM TO FUCKING DIE

Paris and the captain are human again and are now awkwardly talking about their babies

Emotional scene to talk about daddy issues and inadequacies blah blah blah

The end

Final thoughts: I ❤️ salamanders!!!! Also what the fuck!!!!

#star trek voyager #Star Trek #threshold day #threshold #voyager rewatch

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g3z0 · 1 month

Text

Ice cold secret P11

P1 P2 P3 P4 P5 P6 P7 P8 P9 P10

Summary: Sturniolo. Your rival once you take a step on the ice ring. You and Chris are both very good players of opposite teams and schools. But the college, you both look forward on getting a sport scholarship, only takes 1 person pro year. The only thing you want to focus on is hockey. But that isn’t as easy as it first seemed when you met Nick - the triplet brother of your rival

Warnings: cursing, homophobia, anxiety attacks, family drama, mentions of suicide

-g3z0

I push my front door open and slam it behind me shut.

I quickly walk into the kitchen and rifle through the drawers.

Nothing.

I take a shaky breathe and run through my hair.

„Y/n.“ my father says from the dining room. I grab a little on my hair.

I walk into the dining room and glare at my mom and dad that are sitting at the table.

This bastard.

„Where are my pills?“ I ask as I fumble with my hands.

My mother looks down.

My dad purses his lips and grabs his beer bottle, leaning back in his chair. „Sit.“ he says, mentioning to the chair in front of them.

I let out a breathe and close my eyes for a moment „where are my pi-" „sit!“ he yells as he bangs his hand on the table.

I bite my inner cheek and sit down.

He taps on his phone before he pushes it to me. I frown and look down at his phone. „play it.“ he says sternly.

I look up at him and my mom for a second before I look down and press the play button.

My heart sinks into my stomach.

A video of me and Nick in the locker rooms.

My heart starts to beat at a rapid pace and my stomach turns. I’m gonna throw up.

I turn the video off with shaking hands and stand up.

This isn’t real. This isn’t real.

„That’s what you do instead of practice?!“ my dad yells, causing me and my mom to flinch.

I shake my head and pace up and forth. This can’t be real.

„You are a disappointment for this family! I feel sick knowing that you are my blood!“ he spats at me.

I bite my lip and close my eyes. Y/n calm down. Calm down.

My lips and fingertips start to tingle and every breathe I take gets harder and harder to do.

„You‘re Sick.“ he says. I blink at him. He shakes his head and looks at me with disgust in his eyes.

„You‘re not my son.“ he breathes, taking a long sip from his beer bottle.

I clench my jaw and look at my mom. She just stares at her lap.

„You know what he’s doing behind your back?“ I ask my mother, making her blink up at me. She frowns, confusing written all over her face.

My eyes shift to my dad‘s. „You didn’t tell her?“ I snap, clenching my fists. „Y/n, that’s enough.“ he says through gritted teeth.

I scoff and run my hand over my face. „Of course it’s enough.“ I breathe, shaking my head.

„You act like you’re perfect but In reality you’re just a cheap knock-off of Jimmy Sturniolo, who’s an alcoholic and cheats on his fucking wife!“ I yell at him.

His face turns white.

My mother looks at my dad. „Mark..?“ she whispers, tears threatening to fill her eyes.

My dad blinks at me before he looks at my mom, shaking his head „he’s lying!“ he says, throwing his hands up.

My mom looks down as she presses her hand against her mouth and quietly starts to sob.

„No- no, listen to me.“ my dad breathes, taking her hand. „I would never-"

„Bullshit!“ I yell. „Mom, do you really believe him? Do you think I would lie about something like that?“ I ask her, my voice breaking.

She pulls her hand away from my dad.

„Sweetie, don’t listen to him.“ my dad says with a shaky voice.

My mother lets out a sob and stands up. My dad grabs her arm and pulls her back down „sit your ass back down.“ he snaps.

„Don’t fucking touch her.“ I say through gritted teeth as slap his hand away from her. „Go away.“ I say as I glare at him.

He raises his eyebrows „go away?“ he repeats „this is my fucking house! I’m not letting a gay tell me-"

„It’s grandpas house! Not yours.“ I shake my head „Because you have achieved nothing in life. So go away.“ I spat.

He clenches his jaw as he stands up.

His face directly in front of me as we stare at each other. He scoffs after a moment and walks past me, bumping into my shoulder.

„Fuck this family.“ he says as he walks out of the dining room. Shortly after that I hear the front door being slammed shut.

I let out a breathe and sit down next to me mom.

„Im sorry..“ I whisper as I wrap my arms around her. „Im so sorry.“ I breathe, tears filling my eyes.

She leans her head against my shoulder and sobs.

Click.

I concentrate on the sound of the clock in the classroom.

The teacher's voice sounds muffled. My thoughts are too loud

I didn’t sleep all night.

I stayed up till my mom felt asleep next to me. Then I stared at the ceiling and thought of Nick. Of the video. If the whole school has seen it already.

They have.

All morning I heard their fucking whispering and giggling as soon as I walked past them.

I don’t even know why I came to school.

I look down at my table as I feel something against my hand. I frown at the ball off paper before I look to the side to see where it came from.

Ethan, two seats away from me, glares at me. He raises his eyebrows and nods towards me.

„Open it and read it“ In Ethan’s sign language.

I look back at the clock and slump down in my seat.

My teacher gets interrupted as an announcement sounds through the classroom speakers.

„Y/n Woolfaar, please come to Coach Coughlin‘s Office. Y/n Woolfaar to Coach Coughlin‘s office.“

Fuck.

I clench my jaw and try to keep my hands from shaking as everybody in class turns around to look at me.

Stare at me.

I swallow and stand up, grabbing my backpack. My teacher continues with her lesson and I walk out of the classroom.

Once I’m out I take a deep breath. As I make my way to coach‘s office my heart bangs fast against my chest.

I grab into my pocket and take my pills out, throwing three into my mouth before I put the package back into my pocket.

I stop in front of the door and take a deep breath. It’s just coach y/n.

I swallow the lump in my throat before I knock and push the door handle down after. I walk inside, my eyes meeting the ones of coach.

He sits in his chair, typing something into his computer. He looks at me over his glasses.

„Y/n.“ he clears his throat „sit.“

I sit down and place my backpack next to my chair.

He turns away from the computer and glares at me. He lets out a sigh and takes his glasses off.

„Y/n.“ he starts. He frowns a little like he doesn’t know how to put his words. „the teacher’s and student’s talk.“

I bite on my inner cheek and look down at my hands.

„And I heard- I didn’t saw anything.“ he states „I heard that there’s a video.. of you and.. Christopher’s brother.“

I clench my fists and dig my fingernails into the palm of my hand to keep them from shaking.

Coach sighs. „Wolfie, look at me.“

I swallow and look up. He licks his lips and looks to the side, to the picture next to him.

He grabs it and turns it around for me to see.

In the picture is coach in his 20‘s with a young boy.

„That’s my kid.“ coach says, a weak smile on his lips as he looks at the picture.

I look back at him.

„you know, you remind me of him.“ he chuckles, shaking his head. „He was exactly like you. Just as stubborn.“

„Was..?“ I ask hesitantly. His gaze hardens and he looks back at me.

„Was.“ he states. He licks his lips before speaking again „Austin was-" he breathes „gay.“

„He was hockey captain. Just like you.“ he shakes his head a little. „He came out and the boys in his school started to pick on him.“

He swallows and looks back to the picture „they bullied him out of the team. He didn’t even want to go to school after that.“

„Austin Killed himself.“ he says.

My expression softens. I can tell how hard it is for him to talk about it.

„He couldn’t-" he shakes his head „he just couldn’t handle it.“

He clears his throat and looks back at me. „Wolfie, I can’t let it happen twice. I would hate myself if I did.“

I press my lips together and nod a little.

„If anyone- I don’t care if it’s a student or a teacher, says something rude to you because of it. Or if you feel.. feel like you need someone to talk to. I’m always there.“

I look down at my hands and nod again „thanks, coach..“ I whisper.

„The last game is on Saturday.“ he says. I look up at him.

„I believe in you y/n.“ he smiles.

I give him a weak smile back „thanks..“

Ethan’s POV

I stare at my phone.

To Y/n

Yesterday

Wolfie, call me back.

Im fucking worried

Please talk to me.

(4 missed calls)

Y/n please

I didn’t tell anyone I swear

Today

Do you want to sit with us at lunch?

I sigh to myself as I put my phone down. Everything left on read.

„It’s just fucking weird.“ Will mumbles to Noah.

Noah shrugs as he bites into his sandwich „I mean, he never had a girlfriend. It was kinda predictable.“ Noah answers with his mouth full of food.

Aiden sighs as he leans his elbows on the table „Jake asked me about it today in maths. He said some shit about Wolfie and I didn’t know how to react..“ he breathes.

I glare at Aiden „you didn’t defend him?“ I ask.

He looks back at me and opens his mouth „I- I mean.. what was I supposed to do? I swear, if we didn’t have maths and he said that somewhere else I would have-"

„you would have what?“ I spat „punch him? Defend y/n? No the fuck you wouldn’t.“ I shake my head and stand up.

„Ethan.“ Noah sighs. „No, you all are fucking pussy’s.“ I snap, pointing at each one of them.

„And you call yourself his friends.“ I breathe, shaking my head. I grab my backpack before I walk out of the cafeteria.

I need a cigarette.

I walk out of the school to the parking lots. I freeze a little as I see Jacob standing at his car.

Anger flushes through my veins again.

I clench my jaw and walk towards him, grabbing him by his shoulders and pushing him against his car.

„Did you took that fucking video?!“ I spat at him. He stares at me with wide eyes and shakes his head before he pushes me away.

„I didn’t! Fuck, Ethan.“ he breathes. „You are the only one who knows expect me!“ I yell at him.

He glares at me and clenches his jaw „do you seriously think I would to that to Wolfie? He’s my fucking friend!“ he snaps back as he strokes over the spot I just grabbed.

„You are jealous of him, of course I think that.“ I sigh, running through my hair.

„I didn’t.“ he states. I look at him. I read his expression and something tells me he’s saying the truth.

„I know I said some shit about Wolfie. And I did stuff that wasn’t okay. But I would never fucking do something like that.“ he shakes his head and looks down.

I let out a breathe and lean next to him against his car. „okay- sorry.“ I mumble.

Silence fills the air between us.

„How is he?“ he asks after a few seconds.

I shrug and pull a cigarette pack out of my pocket „I don’t know.“ I breathe.

He frowns and looks up to me. „He doesn’t talk to me.“ I mumble before I put a cigarette between my lips.

I hold the pack out to him and he grabs one. I light my cigarette and take a long drag. „He always talks to you.“ Jacob says, shaking his head.

I exhale the smoke and look down. „This time is different..“ I mumble.

#sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets x reader #nick sturniolo x you #nick x reader

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novlr · 1 year

Note

How should I go about describing a character who goes through a lot, becoming more disheveled and desperate as the plot goes on?

Desperation is the emotion that drives characters to their limits, leading to their most intense and extreme behaviours.

By showing how characters become more desperate as your plot progresses, you can create characters that are interesting, dynamic, and relatable.

Here are some ways you can show desperation in your characters. As the plot moves forward, these elements can get worse, showing their decline.

How do they behave?

Obsessive and/or compulsive

Repetitive actions like hand wringing, or overuse of stock phrases

Self-destructive and risk-seeking

Enhanced aggression

Avoidant and isolationist

Manipulative

Exploitative

Short-tempered

Impulsive decision-making

Unrelenting pursuit of something

What physical signs do they show?

Heart palpitations and short, rapid breathing

Sweating profusely

Shaking or trembling

Sudden onset of nausea

Feeling weak or dizzy

Muscle tension

Headaches

Insomnia caused by worry and stress

Feelings of fatigue

Stomach pain and cramping

How do they interact?

Begging or pleading with others

Manipulating others to get what they want

Increasing paranoia and questioning other's motives

Pushing away loved ones

Becoming overly clingy

Either an inability to trust or being too quick to trust others

Self-sabotage

Single-focus conversations

What do they look like?

Unkempt hair and poor hygiene

Rumpled, slept-in clothing

Nervous tics, like fidgeting, pacing, or picking at nails

Extreme and unexplained weight loss

A haunted, faraway, or panicked look

Dark-rimmed, bruised eyes from lack of sleep or exhaustion

A constant sheen of sweat and clammy skin

Unusual clothing choices

What body language do they display?

Hunching over, as if trying to protect themselves

Fidgeting or pacing

Avoiding eye contact

Clenching fists or grinding teeth

Sweating or shaking

Staring intently at something

Repeatedly touching hair or face

Darting eyes and biting lips

Meek and under-confident stance

Pleading look

What is their attitude?

Feeling hopelessness

Sad and dejected

Becoming increasingly irrational

A loss of faith in themselves and others

Obsession to the point of resorting to extreme measures

A sense of helplessness

Blaming others

Feeling powerless

A sense of urgency

What are some positive things that can come out of desperation?

Increased motivation to achieve their goals or solve their problems

Resilience and adaptability in the face of adversity

Heightened creativity and resourcefulness

The ability to form deep and meaningful connections with those who share their struggles

Catharsis or character growth through their struggles

What are some negative things that can come out of desperation?

A tendency to become self-destructive or engage in risky behaviour

Difficulty forming and maintaining healthy relationships

Increased isolation or loneliness

Chronic stress and physical health problems

A tendency to make impulsive or irrational decisions

Prone to depression and anxiety

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darklyndivinely · 2 years

Text

Brothers when they get angry

Fandom(s) - Obey Me!

Pairing(s) - Brothers x gn!reader

Summary - Headcannons about how a fight with the brothers would look like.

Warnings - Angst, angry brothers and angry you.

Wordcount - 2k+

A/N - Thought of this while half-asleep at 2 in the morning. And I apologize for Levi's part, didn't have any juice left by the time I picked him up. Hope you like it!

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LUCIFER, AVATAR OF PRIDE

Lucifer’s anger is explosive. It is slow to build and often, he tries to squash it down and extinguish it. But every once in a while, he’d lose control and give the reigns over to the ferociously bubbling wrath in his chest. It explodes out of his throat in the form of sharp and meticulous accusations aimed at absolutely shattering you. It doesn’t matter what he breaks; your ego, self-esteem or even your heart, he doesn’t care.

All that matters in that moment is the rapid pumping of your heart echoing in his ears, the widening cracks in your eyes that he keeps hammering at and the tears he has made with his sharp claws in your psyche. His only objective is to maim. And he does so fiercely. He’s blind from rage. Do not try to argue with him, it will only stir the storm further. He’ll stab you again and again, just to hold on to the scattered fragments of his rapidly deteriorating walls of defense. He is desperate and that makes him ruthless. He has one goal, to unleash onto you twice the damage you’ve done to him, and he won’t back down until he’s achieved what he’s started.

The aftermath is severe. Both of you are wrecked. Lucifer, after downing two bottles of Demonus and shattering twice that amount, is burdened with immense guilt. It doesn’t matter whose fault it was or who started the fight. He went too far, and it absolutely crushes him. He loses all semblance of control, scrolls through pictures of you together laughing and happy just to push away the memory of the poisonous words he had made you swallow.

He wants to apologize, drop to his knees in front of you and beg you for forgiveness, but he doubts he is even worthy of it when he gazes at the wreckage he has caused. Mammon will have to intervene then, sit his elder brother down and tell him that, yeah, what he did was extreme, but the least you deserved was an apology.

Lucifer will apologize to you the next day. Drop by your room, wrecked hair and distraught eyes, he will drop to his knees and hold your hands in his. He will ask you to forgive him. He understands if you no longer want him, all he wants is for you to know that he does love you, more than he has ever loved anyone. You make him feel alive, and he is grateful that he got to love you for however long he did. If you can find it in yourself to forgive him, know that he will do better. A fight like this shall never happen again.

MAMMON, AVATAR OF GREED

Mammon is one of the more - if not the most - emotionally intelligent of the brothers. If you’re dating him, he loves you with every inch of his being and more. He’s understanding and patient, and if, you’re the one who’s angry, he’ll stay silent and listen to you let all of your feelings off your chest.

Mammon is very hard to anger. If he wasn’t, well, it’s safe to say the House of Lamentation would then require much more frequent renovations. If you do manage that by some miracle, then his anger with you is frigid. He’ll pull away from you, both physically and mentally. He’ll get up and leave, go to another room perhaps or just straight up leave the house. There won’t be any texts from him; he won’t send you random memes like he does often or barge into your room to spend some time with his favourite human.

He is not an arguer, he is an ignorer. As I said, Mammon is hard to anger, and if he is angry then it’s most likely your fault. Mammon would be well aware of that, and would take absolute zero steps to be the first one to extend the white flag. You’ll have to be the one to do it because if you think you can last a long time staying mad at him, he can last longer. He has spent thousands upon thousands of years alone; he doesn’t mind pretending for a bit longer.

Give him time, a day or two perhaps, to calm down. Make sure you don’t take too long lest he start doubting your relationship and the love he has for you. Contact him then. He is angry with you, yes, but he still loves you dearly. You are important to him, and he understands that fights happen and you both will have to resolve them eventually, he won’t be able to resist replying back to you. Go to him, and apologize. Do so sincerely and genuinely, and then throw your arms around him and hold him tight. Remind him that he is The Great Mammon, your first and you, as well, love him dearly.

He’ll flash you a watery smile, and press a loving kiss against your forehead. He’ll slip back into his warm disposition quickly, slightly subdued though, his smile is a bit softer, not as rambunctious and impish but do not worry; he has forgiven you. Please don’t hurt him again like this though, he does truly love you and doesn’t wanna lose you.

LEVIATHAN, AVATAR OF ENVY

Levi is a comparer. His anger is blinding, often deeply mingled with his jealousy making him rather narrow minded. When he’s angry, he’ll compare you to his comfort characters. It’s his defense mechanism, to slip back into the comfort of being submerged in the 2d world while at the same time, being able to carry out his revenge plan for you. The comparison is brutal, and with each new one that slips past Levi’s lips, your confidence in yourself lowers more and more.

Levi is whiny when he’s angry; jealousy is an integral part of him. He’ll lament about how the way you are treating him is unfair and undeserved. He doesn’t intend to hurt you, doesn’t wanna cause you pain but once he starts, he can’t bring himself to stop. He’s been hurt, and this is the only way he knows to let out his feelings.

Fights with Levi don’t last long, a couple days at most. He can be stubborn but his love for you always ends up overpowering it. He misses having you as his confidant and the disapproving looks you give him whenever he ends up putting himself down in front of you. He misses spending time with you and singing songs into his fake diamond studded karaoke mic.

He’s quick to apologize once he realizes how stupid it was for him to question your love for him. He does try to control his jealousy but sometimes, he can't help but let it have free reign over his mouth. Fights like these will still happen, though they may not be as intense.

SATAN, AVATAR OF WRATH

Satan tries his very best not to let out his wrath. You calm his soul; make him feel a myriad of emotions he only ever experiences when he reads his novels, and for that he really appreciates your presence. He is no stranger to rage, it bubbles constantly under the walls of his skin. He suppresses his thirst for blood day and night, and exchanges them with politely sharp jabs. Even he has his limits though.

When Satan gets angry, he becomes jaded. You’ve riled him up; hope you’re ready for the outburst. The phrase ‘flies into a rage’ suits him perfectly. His anger is sudden, not sudden to form but sudden to unleash. It breaks through his skin, cracks and fractures his defenses. All of the energy he was channeling into keeping it at bay is now suddenly fueling his offense. The only target he has in front of him now is you. He’ll let it out, all of it. No holding back.

He’ll press you into his bookshelf, and tear at your soul, slowly and delicately. The cracks that form under his assault will then be injected with fear. He won’t physically hurt you, no, but he’ll chip away at your opinion of yourself. Rake his nails with such passionate intent, your self-concept will be altered for all eternity. You dared to treat him as inferior, he will make sure by the end of it you know your place. He doesn’t care what you have to say; you said what you wanted to, now it’s his turn.

But Satan has always prided himself on his control. He’ll pull away at just the right time, notice how his relentless assault has torn your chest open, will look at the far away glaze in your eyes and hastily back away. He is devastated, can’t bring himself to come to terms with what he’s done. He watches you scamper away from him, shivering arms wrapping around your torso in feeble defense, and tries to believe that its best to give you space to recover.

He retreats into himself then, all the words he had spoken to you in such a venomous tone swirling in his head in an unconquerable storm. Late at night, he’ll sit against his window sill, one of his comfort novels dangling from between his fingers, and gaze at the silvery Devildom moon against the darkest of nights. The moon seems to his reach into his conscious and drop off a simple yet profound truth; he loves you with every crook and cranny of his heart and wants you in his life. The silence reverberating in his room doesn’t bring him peace anymore, doesn’t calm the storm wrecking him. Instead, it’s suffocating, reviving blissful memories with you and clogging his throat with emotions.

Next morning, he reaches out to you while you are on your way to RAD. He takes a deep breath and lets all of his thoughts slip past his lips freely. He had hurt you, and for that he’ll like your forgiveness. He won’t lie to you, he wants to do better but he can’t fully promise you that he won’t ever get angry again. If you decide to forgive him, he’ll arrange a date at your favourite place and would encourage a lengthy, introspective conversation to improve your relationship.

ASMODEUS, AVATAR OF LUST

Asmo’s anger is biting. It will sear through your very being, pluck the air from your lungs and suck the blood out of your veins. Asmodeus, when angered, is ruthless. Much like Lucifer, his only objective then, is to make you hurt. He let you push your delicate fingers inside his soul for too long, and now you had reached his innermost desires. You had unveiled a side of him he had never made peace with, you’ve made him vulnerable, and he will destroy you.

He’ll lash out at you, with words warped into a hundred different weapons. He wants to make you bleed with regret, and for that he’ll strike out with words as sharp as daggers and whip your skin with a force so destructible, your knees will buckle. You had trusted him with yourself; bared yourself and made him privy to the parts of yourself you were still learning to love. Now, he’ll use every ounce of knowledge he had accumulated to ruin you.

Asmo, after such a fight where you both had voicelessly decided to take a break, will go on about his daily routine as nonchalantly as he can. He is a good actor. He’ll pretend that the cold side of his bed is a no bother for him, that the way you had rushed from the dining room the moment he had walked in didn’t make him collapse in on himself. He ignores Satan’s wicked glares, or Belphie’s snide remarks. Tries so hard to pretend he’s fine, but he falls apart when Mammon stops him in the hallway and hands him a ring. It’s the ring he had gifted you one month into the relationship and you had given it to Mammon to sell away. The information shatters whatever remains of his pride.

The next moment, he’s knocking away desperately at your door and falling to his knees when you open it. He’s sorry, he truly is. Please give him a second chance; he swears he will to do better. It’s not so simple, you tell him, the damage he had intended to do had been done.

If you turn away from this relationship, he comes to terms with it eventually. He is still heartbroken but he understands that sometimes some arguments can never be recovered from. If you decide to give him another chance however, he’ll merge nights together to change himself. He’ll learn to lean on you in his vulnerable moments, to not lash out whenever he is anything but perfect. The relationship itself won’t be perfect, but he’ll learn to love it regardless.

BEELZEBUB, AVATAR OF GLUTTONY

Beel is very emotionally mature, right up there with Mammon. He is observant and compassionate, and is surprisingly very good at handling and deflecting fights between you two. If you’re the one who’s angry, he’ll know beforehand as if he possesses a sixth sense for it. He’ll bring in loads of snacks wherever you are, and sit down and listen to you rant.

Beel’s anger is gradual, it is built over several interactions. Beel is a demon who values his freedom greatly. For him, it’s important to be able to do the things he loves whenever he wants to. If you nag him often, or try to change integral parts of his routine and himself, then he’s likely to get angry with you.

He’ll go off on you. He’ll explain how he expects to be treated the way he treats you. He doesn’t ever comment on the things that you do, doesn’t force you to change or feel embarrassed when you do something mortifying. He expects to be given just as much freedom in return. He doesn’t like when you nag at him for things he has been doing for ages and have become a part of him. The way you have been behaving with him the past few weeks has really hurt him. He doesn’t understand why you want to change him; is he not enough for you the way he is? Because if the answer to his question is yes, then he’s afraid things will have to end between you two.

He loves you, he really, really does; you mean the world to him. He cherishes the happiness you bring him and his family, and he wants to spend the rest of his life waking up and drinking in your smile and laughter first thing in the morning. He wants to be by your side and offer you a snack when you don’t feel your best and wants to feel you run your fingers through his hair every movie marathon night. But if he isn’t enough for you, if you want something more that he cannot give then he doesn’t want to waste your time. He cannot be in a relationship where you cannot bring yourself to love all parts of him while he cannot bring himself to hate any of yours.

If, however, he is enough for you, he’ll understand that you didn’t mean any harm. He’ll tell you that you pushed him more than he was comfortable with and it made him question things. He is willing to compromise and meet you halfway but in return, he expects you to do the same.

BELPHEGOR, AVATAR OF SLOTH

Belphie’s anger is snide. His reprimanding is sharp and cutting. You’ve made a mistake and he’ll tell you so in whatever way he has to. If you are the one who’s angry, he’ll fire back in his defense quickly. He doesn’t like being told that he is wrong and it leads to arguments often. Though he always prefers that you tell him straight up when he does something wrong or oversteps a boundary instead of trying to tell him in a softer, more tiptoeing manner.

Fights with him either last too long or end too quickly. If it’s his fault, he’ll reach out to you within a day or two and apologize, rather reluctantly, and tell you how much he missed sleeping against you. If it’s your fault then he won’t necessarily take the first step but he won’t pull away from you completely either. He’ll spend the days with you, sleep against your shoulder or in your lap, but will not utter a single word. He will lay in your lap, delirious with sleep and won’t react to anything you say. However, the moment one of his brothers prompt him for a response, he’ll reply with lightning-fast speed.

Belphie being angry at you can be torturous. How could it not be? He’s there, right beside you, with his head buried in the crook of your shoulder and his warmth seeping through your clothes but he refuses to meet your eyes for more than two seconds. It’s frustrating for you and extremely cruel of him.

When you push his bangs away from his face and run your fingers through his hair and apologize, his violet eyes will blink open and try to gauge the sincerity of your apology. He’ll nod when he finds it, and will start being more verbose with you. But do not be deceived by his compliance; He has not forgiven you completely. He heard your apology, now he wants to see it. If you really meant it when you said, ‘you want to do better’ then he expects you to do better. Do not think of him a fool. He’ll watch you and if a fight for the same reason happens again, he’ll lose his faith in you.

#obey me x reader #obey me!#obey me x gender neutral reader #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #leviathan x reader #satan x reader #asmodeus x reader #beelzebub x reader #beel x reader #belphegor x reader #belphie x reader #obey me shall we date #obey me headcannons #obey me x you #darkly and divinely written

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