Tumgik
#just thought of the image of luke cry and screaming while trying to get to julie but the boys holding him back
devildom-moss · 7 months
Note
Okay so like..
This isnt a Simbarb centred au, but Simbarb is definitely canon in this.
Okay, so basically, i had the idea that Simeon, like Lucifer, birthed a child or something along the lines of that.
We know he got turned into a human, but weve also never seen his angel form, and have no idea whether he still has that form, or maybe just his wings from being an angel before.
But then one day Father was like, "oh fuck that." And sent some angels to go chop off his wings!! Michael included.
And it was like, a surprise attack, they just casually ambushed him one day while he was walking somewhere and cut off all of his wings, which they then mindlessly discarded into a pile. But then, the pile suddenly started glowing!!
Turns out Simeons fear and pain had birthed a half human half angel child! Since Simeon had been turned into a human, he no longer had the uh.. celestial magic in his to be fully angel. But since the wings were technically made from celestial magic, some part of that just went into the creation of uh.. MC?
Then the newly birthed child sat up from the pile of feathers, covered in blood, and started screaming!! Then the feathers around it suddenly became as sharp as a dart and started shooting recklessly at the angels.
And Simeon, being the ultimate dad other than Barbatos, crawled over to the child and started to comfort it, even though everywhere he went, there was a pool of blood beneath him.
Then the angels went away, and i stopped planning from here!!
But Barbatos is definitely the childs other dad, and MC (from the original game) is the other parent.
Uh.. yeah thats about it!! If you have any more questions, feel free to ask <33
And remember to eat, sleep, and dont do drugs :3
Sincerely, 💜
Oh. Oh, I love this (even though I'm also thinking why would you hurt this sweet angel like that?) You really did him dirty - which the sadistic, angst-loving part of me appreciates. I'm a big fan of the bloody/mangled/torn off wings image.
Okay, but where would Raphael fall (sounds like I'm trying to make a pun here) in this? It's already bad enough sending Michael, but having Raphael take part in that too would be. . .oof. That just sounds like an all-round trauma party.
Would the sharp feathers eventually return to normal after the baby stops crying, and could they then get turned into a white feather boa like the one Satan has in black? (Sorry, now I'm thinking about Barbatos, dutiful butler that he is, having a few laundry tips and tricks up his sleeve, washing the blood from Simeon's old feathers and then using them to construct the feather boa. Oh. Or Raphael could construct it instead. Sorry, I don't mean to intrude on your AU, so I hope you don't mind me adding in my thoughts. I have a bad habit of doing that.)
That child would be so adored and taken care of between the three. Sorry, just let me imagine Barbatos rocking a half-human, half-angel baby to sleep in his tail while Simeon hums the child to sleep. One more thing, would Luke be like the child's brother or uncle, though?
I hope you are staying safe and healthy 💜 anon, and I hope (should you so choose) that you continue your creative thoughts.
8 notes · View notes
bluefirewrites · 3 years
Text
Deal With the Devil (One-Shot)
A/N: Beware- angst ahead. 
Warm.
He was warm. They all were.
None of that here nor there, chilly air that consisted their ghostly forms. They were solid.
They were alive.
Luke’s hands felt his face, sliding it down until they framed his chin, then to his neck, where he felt a pulse. A pulse! And it was beating. His heart was beating. He had a heart.
But why the hell it did feel like it was being torn out?
Maybe it was the sobering thought, the one to squash the initial elation of being living, breathing people. That it hadn’t been possible if it weren’t for-
Luke looked up, Alex and Reggie too, to where Julie was rooted to the spot, her hand still in Caleb’s grasp-
Having had just sealed the deal.
The exchange.
A soul for a soul.
(Or three).
“Julie?” God, it didn’t sound like it came from him. Nothing felt real because what he was seeing couldn’t be- it shouldn’t be, Julie with Caleb-
She should have stayed in the car. She should have stayed in the goddamn car and not charge in after them.
His gaze locked onto Caleb, fury emanating from his newly human form.
“What did you do?!”
He charged at the ghost, only to be stopped by the barrier, the one that separated the ghost club from the rest of L.A.
“Julie. Julie!” he banged against the invisible wall, desperately, as if each blow would weaken the magic keeping them apart.
But of course, he was no longer dead; there was no way in.
She turned, cheeks slick with tears, but at the sight of him, alive, a breath finally left her.
Or what constituted as a breath.
“I-It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay,” she tried to reassure, but her usual sunny smile was outshone by the purple stamp glowing on her wrist.
Caleb released her, bowing before her, arms gesturing towards the open door, jazz music spilling out, calling out to her.
“Eternity awaits, Miss Molina,”
Ignoring the man, Julie rushed forward to meet her boys, she placed her hands on the barrier, now meant to keep her in as well as keep the living out.
They ghosted over Luke’s...
“Why?” he cried. Alex and Reggie had snapped out of their daze and joined him, asking the same thing.
“Why did you do it?”
Stupid question. They all knew why. And Luke cursed himself for wasting whatever last moments they had by asking.
“W-We’ll figure something out,” Reggie tried, his optimism waning by the minute, “We’ll find a way to get you out, right?”
Alex remained silent, and Luke wondered if it was because this time, this one time, he did not want to be the one to burst Reggie’s bubble, to stomp on the last bit of hope he had.
Or it was because he too had tried to save someone he loved from the clutches of Caleb. 
And failed.
Still Julie did her best to be brave for her boys, smiling through it all, “No, just. Just do me one favor, okay?”
Anything. He wanted to say but couldn’t, the intensity of the moment rendering him speechless.
“Live,”
Luke shook his head, “No, no, no. Not without you-”
“Live out your lives. Please?” her brown eyes flashed at him, “For me?”
“Tick tock,” Caleb reminded smugly.
As much as it pained them all, Julie stepped back, “Take care of my dad and Carlos for me, will you-?”
“Julie-”
Another step back, as if the power of the club was tugging her along...
“Tell Flynn and Carrie what happened...”
Luke punched even harder, refusing to let her go even further. He hated himself, he hated how the wordsmith in him had gone, only able to scream, “No!” as she made her way towards Caleb, towards the club-
Away from him.
With that, Caleb reclaimed her, a bony hand curled over her shoulder and whisked her off to the club.
“I love you, guys,”
And oh how that ached, hearing those words. The same ones she uttered the first time she saved them...
History seemed to repeat itself... in the twisted way the world worked...
In a flash of light, they, along with the building and the barrier disappeared. All three of them fell forward, no trace of the ghost world left behind.
But still Luke called her name, he ran around the grounds with fervor, tearing through the trash cans and branches, as if she was still within reach. 
He did this until his voice grew coarse and his new body collapsed from the exhaustion of fighting against Alex and Reggie who tried to stop him from going any further.
“She’s not gone. She c-can’t be-”
“We need to go,” Alex said, eyes lifeless, but held Luke’s left while Reggie handled the right, unwavering even when the guitarist was bucking under their hold, “We have to tell them… tell them what happened-”
“Luke!” Reggie pushed until he grabbed his face, “They need to know!”
He shrugged them off, “I’m not leaving her-!”
“Well tough. Because in case you forgotten, we’re alive now,”
“I don’t care-”
“Yeah. Go die out here from the cold then Julie made her sacrifice in vain!” Reggie shouted, out of character, “Then Caleb gets your soul too. You want that? Huh?”
“Please,” Alex gently pressed, “Let’s go home. We’ll… figure it out from there.”
Home.
Home without Julie.
It didn’t seem like it was home at all. The thought broke his will to shout and fight.
He was-
He was tired.
He let Alex and Reggie take him back, the guilt gnawing at him the further they traveled from the Hollywood Ghost Club.
Growing more aware of his body, Luke took account of himself: 
His legs that felt like jelly from the long trek to the car, his scratchy insides of his throat, unsure if he had a voice left after screaming in vain, his eyes, now bloodshot from tears shed from goodbyes that shouldn’t have been.
But his heart, the thing that should have fueled everything. It was gone. It really had been ripped out.
Left in that goddamn club.
Singing there for all eternity...
__
tagging: @blush-and-books @lydias--stiles @echocharm17618 @caffeine-catastrophe @thedeathdeelers @tmp-jatp
Because y’all are my homies
118 notes · View notes
Text
MC is Half Demon and They Look Awfully Familiar
(Underground Tomb edition!)
Hello friends and degenerate sinners, this is basically a mini headcanon set for Luci’s kid!MC about how the incident with Luke and the Grimoire would go down in this AU to tide you all over until Part 3 comes out! Enjoy!
It was a normal night in the good ol’ HOL... Lucifer was doing paperwork at an ungodly hour of the night, Beel was in the kitchen, and Mammon was screaming and running for dear life. Ah... sweet normalcy.
The custard incident remained the same, MC got force-fed custard and Beel threw a truly fantastic hunger tantrum that culminated in the wall connecting to MC’s room collapsing.
Cue lecture from Luci-father.
“I am very disappointed in you three.” Lucifer rubbed his temples as MC, Beel, and Mammon awkwardly stood in his room. Mammon of course, was trying to avoid the death glares MC was giving him. Poor bastard.
“Especially you two, MC and Beel.”
“Whuh?!” Mammon sputtered. “What about me?!”
“I expect this from you. These two on the other hand,” Lucifer raised an eyebrow at MC who was awkwardly trying to suppress a laugh at Mammon’s aghast expression. “Should know not to act like this.”
“We’re *snrk* sorry, father,” MC paused to try and muscle through a giggle. “It won’t happen again.”
“He ate my custard...” Beel pouted.
“So, MC won’t be able to use their room anymore due to the wall... collapsing.” Lucifer gave Beel a pointed glare.
Mammon smirked, and if he were sitting on a couch, we would have leaned back and kicked his feet up. “Well, obviously since I’m a kind and generous soul I’ll open up my room for poor MC to stay in. My babysittin’ rates are quite high though-”
“BABYSITTING?!” MC snarled, giving Mammon a death glare that could probably kill lesser demons.
Lucifer felt a twinge of pride upon seeing his child give someone his signature bone-chilling glare, if he weren’t supposed to be disappointed he would have given MC a pat on the head and let them hang Mammon from the ceiling.
“Uh- heh- MC, I’m your favourite uncle! Me babysittin’ ya should be an honour!” Mammon was sweating bullets and desperately looking to Beel for help.
“Levi is rapidly approaching favourite uncle status.” MC crossed their arms and huffed.
“Levi?! Wait- does that mean I was your favourite-”
Lucifer was almost tempted to stick MC in Mammon’s room just to have MC punish Mammon so he could get some sleep, tragically, his common sense won out. “MC will be staying with Beel. He has an extra bed in his room after all.”
MC looked over at Beel and smiled. “Could be worse, right? I’ll replace the custard.”
Beel’s smile upon hearing the last part could have lit up the entire Devildom. What a sweetie.
MC still chilled in Beel’s room. They finally got to ask more questions about Belphie, and Beel is more inclined to share what’s up because MC is his big bro’s kid after all!
Because of MC’s half demon-ness, they hadn’t met Belphie at that point in the story unlike in canon. They were just curious about their missing uncle. They ALSO already knew what Belphie looks like because Lucifer gave them an in depth tour of everything and he pointed out all the portraits.
MC, being the sadistic sweetheart they are, went out and bought themselves and Beel replacement custard. MC made sure to eat it right in front of Mammon.
But my oh my, who was texting them? *gasp!* Luke!
MC obviously let their little angel buddy into the house (Luke did not know about MC’s parental situation at that point, keep that in mind). Luke was fun to tease a little after all! And it was nice to have another kid around, but MC would never admit it.
Since MC had literally no reason to be afraid of their dear old dad, they went right up to him and asked him if Luke could stay over. No fear.
“Father?” MC leaned on the doorway to the backyard, Lucifer was playing fetch with Cerberus. MC had never seen someone play fetch so robotically.
“Yes, MC?” Cerberus’ middle head dropped a slobber covered squeaky toy into Lucifer’s gloved hand, the other two heads snapped at the middle one.
“Can I have a friend over?” MC asked, trotting over to give Cerberus some pets. On the first day the dog had tried to eat them, but after giving him some much tastier bacon treats, Cerberus was sweet as pie. Murderous and dangerous pie, that is.
“Do I know this friend?”
“Yes, it’s Luke. Can he stay over?”
Lucifer wrinkled his nose and rolled his eyes. “Cerberus is right here, you have access to a dog. Why on earth would you bring the chihuahua over?”
MC snorted and gave Cerberus’ right head some scratches behind the ears. “He’s not a chihuahua all the time, come on, it’s for the good of the exchange program!”
The two had a stare down for a little while, and to his absolute horror, Lucifer felt his resolve cracking. This child of his was too adorable for their own good. “Fine, MC.”
“Yes!” MC fist pumped as Cerberus’ middle and left heads tried to join in on the ear scritches.
“But note,” Lucifer continued. “I expect a full report to give to Lord Diavolo on this whole experience.”
MC frowned and debated sticking their tongue out at their father, they decided against it. “A paper? On a sleepover? Really?”
“Yes. Really.” Lucifer gave MC a flick on the nose. “Like you said, it has to do with the exchange program. Now go make sure the chihuahua doesn’t die and leave you with a mess to clean up.”
The look of complete terror Luke gave MC when they told him that Lucifer said he could stay over was completely worth the paper they were going to have to write.
“What?! You weren’t supposed to tell him I’m here!”
“He said you could stay.”
“Why?! Oh no... did he demand your soul as payment or something?! MC! You shouldn’t have put yourself in that nasty demon’s debt! Don’t worry, I’ll get your soul back somehow.”
MC should have been offended... but they weren’t. I mean, could you stay mad at Luke when he just offered to fight arguably the second most powerful demon in the Devildom to get your soul back?
Now that Luke’s presence in the house was known to everyone, the challenge was no longer keeping Luke hidden, it was making sure Luke didn’t say anything that would get him killed and making sure none of the demon bros made Luke cry.
Mammon was the main culprit of the teasing because Lucifer actually had better things to do. And he had a (totally not a) date with Diavolo so he’d be back late and wouldn’t be home to tease the chihuahua.
Mammon’s status as favourite uncle was hanging by a thread by the end of the first day.
Asmo thought Luke was positively adorable and also very annoying. He offered to paint MC and Luke’s nails. Luke declined, but MC was all for it. (Their cuticles were a MESS by the way, they needed the manicure.)
Luke’s nails were painted gold to match the gold on his outfit! Asmo was quite proud of his work, and was very offended when he was not allowed to try and braid Luke’s hair.
“It looks so soft!”
“You’re not allowed to touch my hair, demon!”
Satan still disliked MC on the basis that they were just a mini-Lucifer and hung out in his room or the library to avoid them and Luke.
It was incredibly annoying when Luke and MC burst into the library to look for cookbooks and treat recipes after Luke told MC about his baking endeavours. Satan debated ordering a pair of ear plugs on Akuzon...
Or perhaps a laser gun...
Both would make him stop hearing the children’s grating voices.
“You two, be quiet.”
“We haven’t spoken since we got in here...”
“You’re breathing too loud.”
Beel remained the only brother who was actually decent to Luke, they all played Go Fish in Beel’s room.
Levi was in his room playing his new video game just like in canon, but he could hear Luke and MC running around outside his room.
He was fully prepared to do that introvert thing where you stay in your room until you hear someone say goodbye to the guest.
Levi’s eyes were glued to his computer screen, just eight more skeleton monsters to kill and he’d get the achievement! His attention crumbled the moment he heard the dreaded sound of...
Guests...
“Hey MC! Whose room is this?”
The sound of a door opening and closing down the hall caused Levi to jump in his seat. Oh no... his worst fears were realized! There was another person in the house!
“That’s Asmodeus’ room. Luke you shouldn’t go around opening everyone’s doors-”
The sound of another door opening and shutting made Levi pause his game and look at Henry 2.0 for help. Maybe if he jumped into the tank and wrapped himself in his tail he’d camouflage into his surroundings...
BAM!
AAAAA! Not enough time! The guest was drawing nearer... he was going to have to... *barf*... SOCIALIZE!
“How about this room?”
Levi braced himself for the incoming social contact... Fs in the chat everyone...
“We shouldn’t bother Levi, let’s do something else.”
HAJEKDJSJSJSJD- BEEL! BEEL JUST SAVED LEVI’S LIFE!
The poor third born slumped back in his seat, the awfulness of socialization avoided. He uh... hadn’t actually left his room in maybe three days... maybe he should actually go outside... enjoy the nonexistent sunlight, y’know?
...nah. Levi went back to his game.
Since the kitchen was broken, Beel, MC, and Luke went out and get AkuDonald’s. They were all out of the toy that Luke and MC wanted so that trip was a disaster! A disaster I say!
Just the image of Beel happily chomping on his eighth burger while Luke and MC angrily pick at their fries makes me want to laugh.
Now the question you’re all waiting for, did Lucifer try and kill Luke and Beel and then MC for trying to take the Grimoire?
N O
“Whose room is behind that door?” Luke pointed to the door to the attic staircase.
MC shrugged and hit their knuckles against the door a few times. “It’s just the door to the attic. My uh- Lucifer said not to go up there because it’s just full of old junk.”
Normally MC would scoff at the idea of being told what not to do and do it out of spite, but MC was a child, and like most children, they hated scary attics. They hadn’t even attempted to open the door in the month they had lived in the house.
“Hm, maybe he’s hiding something...” Luke puffed out his cheeks and knocked on the door. When met with no answer, Luke turned the doorknob. The door creaked open, and the two peeked inside.
A tall spiral staircase greeted them as they tentatively stepped inside. Not so-good Lord, the room was freezing, but it didn’t seem to bother Luke as he walked further into the room.
“What do you think’s up there?” Luke asked, craning his neck to try and get a look at what could be at the top of the stairs.
MC shuddered and crossed their arms. “Like Lucifer said, junk. Nothing important.”
There was a tingling feeling at the base of MC’s neck, their hand flew to the spot only to find nothing, but the uneasiness didn’t cease. Something was very... very off. A shudder creeped up their spine as Luke stepped closer to the staircase.
“Come on,” Luke tutted, placing a hand on the railing. “Demons are known liars!”
Luke was quite difficult to be friends with sometimes, MC had to admit.
With every step Luke took up the stairs, the sense of dread brewing in MC’s gut grew, but they remained rooted to the spot, it was almost like something was physically stopping them from getting closer to those stairs.
Luke stopped on the sixth step and craned his neck to look up again. “Hello?” He called out.
His little voice echoed up the staircase, he was met with no reply for a moment, until a massive shudder wracked both his and MC’s spines.
“Hello.” A voice replied.
Quick as lightning MC dove forward, taking three steps up the stairs despite what felt like electric shocks stabbing into their skin, and yanked Luke back down the stairs and out the door, closing it behind them. MC heard a lazy, carefree chuckle reverberate through their head, and a message that only MC could hear.
“Leaving so soon, Lucifer?”
...
Spooky right?
Anyway- back to Luke and MC being idiots together.
They headed back to Beel’s room to watch some Devildom kid shows, I assume Tom and Jerry just played on repeat.
Luke explained the reason he ran away from Purgatory Hall, and MC legitimately debated whether or not they should throw Luke out of the nearest window for all the jabs he was taking at demons.
“Simeon was going to go out for tea with Diavolo! He even said that I could ask Barbatos to instruct me on the finer points of baking!”
“What’s so bad about that?”
“They’re demons, MC! Simeon and I are angels from the Celestial Realm! We shouldn’t be consorting with demons.”
Once again, bless Beel and his lack of murderous rage when it came to anything other than food.
“MC, Lucifer would be upset if you broke a window.”
“What’s he talking about?”
“Nothing Luke, nothing you need to worry about.”
Don’t worry, no angels were harmed during the visit.
On day two of the extended sleepover, Luke and MC decided to go running around the house again.
“And this is the basement.” MC put their hands on their hips and kissed their teeth as they looked around the Underground tomb. “Perfectly creepy.”
Luke shuddered. “Is this house nothing but one creepy room after another..?”
MC smiled and stuck out their tongue. Their fear of the attic did not extend to the underground tomb. Not that they were actually afraid of the attic or anything...
“Why? You scared some big monster is gonna getcha?” MC teased.
“No!” Luke gasped. “I’m not scared!”
MC began to walk backwards into the darker depths of the tomb, their teasing tone echoing off of the walls. “Then come on! Don’t be chicken!”
Luke looked back and forth from the door out of there, to the rapidly disappearing figure of MC, he rushed after MC.
“I’m not scared of some dark basement.” Luke huffed.
“Why not~?” MC snickered. “There could be ghosts down here... tortured souls of those who were damned to Hell for all eternity~!”
MC swiped Luke’s hat and placed it on their head, Luke jumped at the sudden contact and began to try and get the hat back from MC.
“Stop trying to scare me!” Luke yapped, MC laughed and began to jog deeper into the tomb.
“Maybe there’s a monster that eats chihuahuas down here too! Who knows!” MC twirled the hat with their fingers and ran a little faster when Luke ran after them.
“I AM NOT A CHIHUAHUA!”
Sure, maybe it wasn’t the best course of action to tease and scare one’s friend instead of telling them what they said earlier was mean, but MC wasn’t the best at decision making.
When MC reached a dead end, they stopped and looked around, Luke crashed right into them. He managed to swipe his hat back from a now disinterested MC.
MC’s gaze landed on a book being held up by a statue, they padded over and looked up at it.
“Luke, do you know what that is?” MC asked, turning to look at their now very miffed friend.
“The... book? I don’t know.”
Truthfully, MC didn’t know either. During their first tour of the house, Mammon had interrupted the Underground tomb segment and Lucifer had to cut the tour short.
“It’s uh...” MC pursed their lips and tried to think of a convincing lie. “A spell book. Lucifer told me that it makes your magic really really strong, so he stuck it down here to hide it from Solomon.”
“Did I now?”
MC and Luke screamed and whirled around, there stood Lucifer himself, not looking terribly pleased with the two of them.
“MC, care to explain why you and the angel are so close to the Grimoire?” Lucifer’s words were icily calm, and MC knew that meant if they didn’t come up with a good explanation they’d be in big trouble.
“W-we were just playing down here...” MC trailed off, looking to Luke for some kind of backup before realizing what a stupid idea that was.
“Y-yeah! We were just-”
Lucifer stuck his thumb over his shoulder and glowered at the two. “Out.”
“Yes sir.” Luke and MC mumbled as they stepped away from the Grimoire, Lucifer relaxed slightly as the two walked past him and down the hall.
When the two got back up to Beel’s room, Luke suddenly gasped and turned to MC.
“You said it was a spell book!”
After that, MC got the feeling that Luke was no longer welcome in the house. What was the big deal about almost touching the Grimoire anyway? It could only override pacts and control demons-
Oh.
Balls.
Simeon got called to pick up Luke and before the two of them left MC assured Luke that he could come over and hang out anytime as long as he texted first.
Beel said Luke could come over and bake when the kitchen was fixed, poor Beel would have to do without Luke’s baked goods for a little while longer.
MC rested their chin on the coffee table they were kneeling in front of, stewing in annoyance. Their unfinished homework was practically mocking them, but the Demonology textbook was not what had them in their funk.
“MC, do your homework.” Lucifer said from the living room couch, he was comparing his phone to notes in a binder that was placed on his lap.
A grunt from MC caused him to raise an eyebrow. Their grasp on demonic language had improved, but Lucifer did not approve of them using their new skill to sass him.
“MC.” Lucifer chided, MC turned to look at him with a deadpan expression. “If there’s something wrong, either tell me, or do your work without complaining.”
MC turned back to their homework and tapped their pencil against the textbook, before puffing out their cheek and turning back to Lucifer.
“What’s in the attic?”
For the briefest of moments, Lucifer froze, he forcibly relaxed and went back to his work.
“Junk.” Lucifer replied. “Did you try and go up there?”
MC shook their head. “No, I went into the staircase room, but not up the stairs.”
Lucifer’s eyes flashed, he then took a deep breath and looked at MC. “Good, there’s nothing of interest up there anyway. If you did go up there you might break something or hurt yourself.”
“Okay.” MC sighed, trying to push the voice from the attic out of their mind. “What about the Grimoire? Why is it down in the tomb?”
Lucifer could feel his patience growing thinner and thinner with every question. “So it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”
“Why not just destroy it?” MC asked, their question wasn’t meant to be taken as an insult or be malicious, it was just legitimate curiosity. “Wouldn’t that be safer?”
The first born hesitated before he answered. He looked over MC, before shaking his head. “...I’ll tell you when you’re older.”
MC’s eyes narrowed, but they went back to their work all the same. It would be about ten minutes of quiet before MC spoke up again.
“When Belphegor gets back from the human world, you’re going to have a lot of explaining to do, huh?”
Lucifer’s eyes snapped up to look at MC, who still had their back turned to him as they scribbled notes from the textbook. His grip on his DDD tightened as he replied.
“Why do you say that, MC?”
MC didn’t seem to register their father’s clipped tone, and shrugged. “Beel said that he isn’t answering his texts or calls, and when he sent up a letter Belphegor didn’t respond to that either.”
“The life of an exchange student is a busy one, as you can see.” Lucifer forcibly injected his last bit of remaining calmness into his words as he gestured at MC’s homework. MC laughed at that.
“Yeah well, I still make time to call my friends and ren back up in the human world.” MC giggled. “And I’m sure those text notifications about his older brother discovering that he has a child would make him pick up the phone.”
“Belphegor might have a much larger workload.” Lucifer retorted, trying to keep himself from snapping at MC.
“But still, you’d think he’d call his-”
“MC-” Lucifer snarled, MC whirled around, the fear and shock in their eyes caused anything Lucifer was going to say to die in his throat.
The two stared at each other for a few seconds, before Lucifer took another deep breath and turned back to his work.
“Not right now, MC,” Lucifer whispered. “I’m working.”
...
To be continued...
448 notes · View notes
ja3hwa · 3 years
Text
Yunho || Never Let You Go
Word count: 2.1k
Genre: Angst, Heartbreak, Sad times
Warnings: Too many!! Swearing, heavy verbal and physical abuse. Spitting, hateful words about readers body image (nothing specific but its still there). Degrading readers intelligence. Let me know if I missed something.
Notes: Readers Boyfriend is an abusive person. Yunho is our saver that gives great bear hugs. Honestly I don't really like this but I've been thinking about this scenario for a while, so yeah.
Also this not to make abuse look aesthetic nor romanticise it. This is purely for reading purposes. If you don't like it please block me.
Tumblr media
Lightings everywhere, loud music blazing and chatting among colleagues. An evening party to celebrate a new year for K-idols. You are grateful to be able to meet or catch up with anyone from different groups, both male and female. It was amazing, given your only a dance teacher for most of these people, you don't get the closeness like this evening is giving.
"I'm going to just speak to someone and then we can leave." Your boyfriend spoke quick, blunt and emotionless. Leaving in a second but not before demanding you to meet him outside in the parking lot. You sigh, agreeing before heading out. You didn't want to leave but deifying or biting back at him would lead to unspeaking actions. But that was what your relationship was, that's how it was supposed to be. right?
- Earlier that evening -
You and your boyfriend were walking towards the back entrance of the event hall after Luke was finally finished his cigarette. He didn't want to leave you inside by yourself because in his words spoke I don't trust you to not talk to other males. You keep your arms crossed over your chest keeping in the warmth of your body, seeing your breath as you sigh quietly.
"So a little birdy told me that you've been with that ateez boys again." You heard him spit out his words, making your heart drop.
"Uh, what are you talking about baby? I-I only work in the same company, I would never--." You cut yourself off afraid of getting into more trouble. Tempting to lie to him was not the best but if he found out you were sneaking around to hang out with people, especially with males, you and them would certainly die.
"Don't lie to me." He stops dead in his tracks, making you turn to look at him. You try not to make eye contact as he walks closer to you, only becoming an inch away. He grabs your arm, making you flinch slightly at the sudden pressure.
"Aw baby." He strokes your arm sinisterly, pulling you face up by your chin so you are forced to look at him in the eyes. He brings twos fingers up to a strand of hair that fell in front of your face, pulling it behind your ear. A disgusted feeling hits in the pit of your stomach, feeling your jaw whimper at the feeling of the terrifying male towering over you.
"You know lying causes more trouble. Now tell me, am I not good enough? I know we don't have sex but that's because your body is disgusting and you don't satisfy my needs. You know I come first. So tell me why you must go around being a slut and sleep with them. And out of anyone, them?! it's like you are trying to make me mad." He pinches the bridge of his nose, spitting out swears and profanities. You stay frozen unable to find the words to say, too scared if you say something wrong you'll upset him further.
"I'm sorry but I didnt--DON'T FUCKING LIE TO ME." He slaps the left side of your face hard, making you fall to the cold damp ground. You feel tears swell up, beginning to fall from your red eyes as your body starts to tremble.
"Get up, mutt." He hacks, spitting down at you. You shakily get up, unaware of what his next moves were. Your legs wobble, threatening your balance. He grabs your wrist pulling your numb body to him, digging his nails into the rough flesh, fearing to draw blood.
"Luke, please... I didn't" He grabs your neck, holding it tight, blocking your air pipe with a hard grip. Your breath hitches, brain starting to go into panic mode but you don't dare put your hands up to try and stop him, letting him have his way with your ragdoll body.
"If I ever catch you with another man, especially them. I'll break your legs and blame it on a car accident. I'll destroy every part of this pathetic body and make sure you have nothing left. Cause I own you." His eyes filling with rage, his grip threatening to snap your neck. You feel weak, your vision blurring, life leaving. The feeling of loss and helplessness. He won yet again.
"I-I'm sorry." You finally get out a word, apologising for your actions. With that, he lets go of your neck scoffing as he watches your body fall back to the cold ground. You cough out feeling the oxygen flooding back to you, trying to take a deep breath.
"Let's go back inside and if anyone asks you why your face is red, you better come up with a good story." He couches down to pick up your face up by your chin. Looking at you with a head tilt giving you a blank expression.
"I do this cause I love you. You need to learn my baby." He tucks the same small piece of hair that fell in front of your face earlier that night back behind your ear.
"I love you too." You smile at him as he gets up and walks back inside leaving you alone to cry softly. You hated him, you hated yourself and what's more, you hated that in your mind you somehow thought you still loved him.
-
"Oh hey Y/n. Leaving so soon?" You glance up from looking at your feet to see none other than the Ateez boy's hanging around in the back entrance parking lot, seeming like they were waiting for their ride to also leave for the night.
"Yeah, it's getting late. Besides, I have practise tomorrow. I'm helping Lisa with a photoshoot so I can't be late for that." You chuckle lying about your early retire. The boys all laugh along with you knowing the pains of getting up early.
"Y/n." You froze, instantly regretting opening your mouth, reminding yourself the reason you got hurt earlier this evening. A pit in your stomach begins to form, knowing you are going to get a worse punishment once you get home.
"I-..Luke, you ready to--"
"Why are you talking to them?" He growls clearly angry at your stupidity to talk to males. He sighs trying to keep his cool, pinching the bridge of his nose once again.
"Oh w-we work together. We were just talking about wor--."
"Did I give you permission to talk to them?" He strides towards you griping your already bruised wrist, pulling you towards him. You glance over at the others, all clearly shocked at the situation that's unfolding in front of him. But this is normal for you, to be yelled at 24/7 by the person that's supposed to be the one to make you feel safe.
You look over at Yunho, he's staring at you with so much concerning his eyes. His blood boiling at the sight of Luke gripping onto you. You feel your head spin, wanting nothing more than to break down and scream out how much Luke is abusing you. How much he hurts you. How much he makes you feel useless.
"Let's go." He pulls at your wrist but you pull back, breaking out of his grasp. His expression drops, fury in his eyes, slowing filling his body with rage.
"What are you doing?" He spits out.
What am I doing? You thought gulping at your dry saliva, heart threatening to beat out of your chest.
"Come on babe, let's. go." He states stern. Sweat forming on your brow, hands clenching into fists with balls of fabric from your shirt. You finally look at him on your own, looking dead in his eyes.
"No." You whisper, unable to speak any higher.
"WHat?" A shocked expression wipes over, biting the inner of his mouth, feeling the urge to throw his hands. Time seems to feel like it has stopped, a build-up of rage. So many emotions fuzzing your brain.
"I said no." You clear your throat. He goes to grab your arm once more but you sidestep away from him.
"Y/n I swear to god if you don't come with me right now."
"What? You'll hurt me, you have an audience now." You spat, pointing at the boy's standing awkwardly in the cold parking lot. He looks over at them making eye contact with Yunho. Mingi holds him by the shirt not wanting him to get involved just yet.
"I'm done. I don't want to be with you anymore." You finally broke your silence, the ball in your throat melting away, letting your words spill out like a river.
"What?! You're acting crazy. Did that fall mess with your brain." He lowly chuckles, trying to fake out a small laugh.
"Oh you mean the fall that happened when you hit me, yeah probably." You snapped. Hearing your words, Yunho broke from Mingis hold, fists in balls. He aimed for your boyfriend. Luckily Seonghwa grabbed his arm, making all the boys come closer to the verbal fight, trying to not step in unless you say otherwise. Luke however flipped finally having enough of your words, grabbing your arm, pulling you towards his body.
"DON'T TOUCH ME." You elbow him in the chest, pulling yourself free. Your heart swells the beat quickening as if it was going to burst outright of your chest. You look back to see Yunho with rage in his eyes being held back by not only Seonghwa but now Mingi and Wooyoung too. You scan the parking lot to see no one else. Sighing, you give a brief smile to the boys before looking back at Luke.
"You know what Luke, you are a disgusting, selfish, and pitiful women beater." Your words spill, choking lightly, you forbid yourself to cry in front of him, not to dare give him any satisfaction. Your heart snaps, breaking your silence.
"If you don't get what you want, you hurt people until you do. I'm done. You always tell me to fake a smile and tell everyone how perfect our relationship is. But in fact, I have nothing to smile about when I'm with you..." You step forward, making Luke take two steps back. You point at him, your face flushing red as rage now fueled your words.
"I've been waiting so long to finally have the strength and courage to tell you I don't owe you a god damn thing!" you scream your last words, finally getting your first breath of freedom in a while. He drops his image, glance at the males watching the intense show. Clicking his knuckles not caring about them seeing what is unfolding anymore.
"So you think you can do whatever you want because you have an audience behind you?" He growls bending to your eye level.
"You're so fucking stupid somethings. God, you make my life so fucking difficult." He sighs throwing his hands in the air, you flinch slightly, trying your best to stand your ground but your body is still afraid of him. He notices that giving out a light chuckle.
"I own you, I own your life, I gave you everything! You are mine!! I control you." He throws a tantrum feeling himself not getting his way. You look to the floor giving out a small laugh at his words, quickly wiping a stray tear before he could see.
"You own me? You gave me nothing! If you really did own me, control everything I do. Would I be able to do this?" You turn around looking Yunho dead in the eyes, Seonghwa and the others let him go, giving him the clear to finally intervein. You walk up to him in a second wrapping your arms around his neck pulling him close.
"Kiss me," You whisper, pulling him into a fuzzy and warm kiss. Passion spilling from both of you. Your heart skipping, never feeling such an emotion from only being with Luke. The kiss is different, something loving. You let go of him as he lets out a small droughted breath, shocked yet elated. Your attention back to Luke, you see him walking with full force toward Yunho. You move in front of him slapping him clean in the face, nearing making him lose his footing.
"You..." He holds his right cheek, spitting onto the floor. You hear faint 'ouch' and 'oohs' from the boys behind you. Luke noticing the noise to he grunts, standing up while fixing his suit.
"You know what, I just realised I'm still needed inside." He closes the button on his suit jack before scoffing off back towards the side entrance of the hall.
"I'm going to call the police." He stops dead in his tracks looking back at you in disbelief.
"I'm going to get all my things from your house. then I never want to see or speak with you again." He doesn't respond, taking in a large breath from his sniffling nose, he walks back inside. The minute he disappears from your view. The world feels like it came crashing down, all the pain and fear that was building for years, washed away in a second. You fall to the ground as your legs gave out from under you, finally letting your emotions overwhelm you. You sob, tears falling faster than rain.
"Y/n." You're quickly comforted by all the boys, all around you, calling out 'are you okays' and other worries they had. None of them came thew, as your brain felt like it was slowly shut down. The cold of the floor and wind was soon taken away from a large bear hug, engulfing you into comfort. Yunho stroked your hair whispering soft 'shh it's okay, I've got you now.' letting you cry into his shoulder.
He was never going to let you go...
-
Tag list : @yunhofingers @softforqiankun @violetwinters @kpopmademygradesgodown @lmhmh01
[Let me know if you want to be added to my tag list]
ATEEZ MASTERLIST
230 notes · View notes
thefanbasewhore · 3 years
Text
"Mine." || Part 2.
Summary: Din shows you who you belong to just to discover something life changing.
Warning/Content: 18+ ONLY. NSFW. Fingering, oral (female receiving/male receiving), P in V, a hint of degration, slight breeding kink, dirty talk, ROUGH SEX. Dom!Din, jealous!Din and tatted Din. I would add another tag but it would give away the ending.
Paring: Din Djarin/Female Reader
Part 1.
Tumblr media
A/N: I also do not ever write smut, this is my first fic with full sex in it so if something does not seem right please, please let me know. Thank you, hope you all enjoy!
His lips don't give in, pressing his tongue until it feels heavy against your own. Fingertips unforgivable as they sting your skin with how rough he was moving your face for he had a better angle to kiss you at. He's ruthless, pissed, marking his territory, claiming you his.
Anger warmed his whole body and honestly he wasn't even sure it was jealousy anymore just the sheer fact that life has separated him from you and from his son, it's unfair. As he pulls away, brown eyes dark with meaning, lips bruised and puffy from your own. "Tell me." He urges, "You're mine, I want to hear you say the words."
Dins’s eyes following every movement of your eyes as they move from the creases in his forward to the facial hair that peppered his jaw. "You know I'm yours. I'll forever be yours Din."
His eyes are starting to soften but find you reaching for his hand to press it against the thick colum of your throat and squeezing fingers over his feeling the air restrict just enough it burns for there is just enough air passing through, making you dizzy. The deep burn of desire inside the deepest pit of your stomach just wanting him to fuck you hard, remind you that your place is with him; imaging sitting on his lap on the golden throne he will soon own, truthfully where ever the hell he wants you because you without a doubt are putty in his hands. "Please remind me, I need it so bad."
Finding yourself blaming it on how sexy he is when he's angry, the way his cheeks colored red as he pulled on the your hair, forcing you too look at him as he asked if you fucked another man. It may be that the separation from the man weighed heavy on your heart. Seven months is a long time, the lingering desire to grow. Satisfying yourself didn't even come close to him.
The soft moan against your open mouth from the words is enough to have you soaking, fingers dip into the soft fabric of the tunic, harsh fingers grasp the tie of the robe and when it doesn't budge rips it right off, throwing it over his shoulder with a snarl against your lips. "You missed me sweet girl, you need me?."
"Yes."
"Maker -." He gasps at the feeling of small hands cupping his erection through his pants, hips bucking to meet them with certainty, lips hot against your own with one goal. "Greedy girl. Not happy unless she's touching a cock."
The way he talks as if you're not even there, patronizing but oh, it makes you mewl and tut hips against his hardness which throbs underneath you. A fire inside ignites with an endless flame, desire seeping to form into the throb between your legs. A problem that only he can fix. Absolutely starved for him, his touch, his lips as they press your own. Moaning softly with praises for his good girl.
His hands arr greedy as they cup your breasts, pinching the nipples a little to rough until they puff and sting, it hurts but he doesn't seem to care much as Lips press against the warmth of your neck, kissing, nipping any part of skin he can manage, purple marks left it the wake, tongue soothing the bruising skin, heart stammering against his chest at the thought of Luke seeing them. His voice is rough, calculating as the pads of his fingers lift your face from seeing what he's doing from you using the plam of his hand to angle it towards the headboard. "You want to see? I don't think you deserve it, haven't been a good girl. From what I remember you picked his side over mine."
"Did.." You try to speak but the thigh between your own stops you, heavy as it presses against your clit and makes you gasp. "...Not."
"Surely did but look at you now. I wonder what he would think if he saw how cock dumb you get." Din's’s hand falls between both of your legs to his hard member squeezing it through his pants, throbbing under his own palm.
He's teasing, testing the waters to see a reaction out of you, he's so so close but biting the inside of your cheek manage to stay quiet.
It has to be quick as hands press against the mattress under you, tightening your trunk to use the new found strength he didn't know about to flip yourself from under him. Din is quicker though, halfway through pulling you closer for it's impossible to escape his arms, pulling you to straddle him as his back lands on the bed with a huff.
You really do try to move but he's just too strong, hair filling the gaps between his fingers as he pulls your lips against his again, teeth clashing as a moan vibrates his chest. "You're not going anywhere cyar'ika."
Anchoring yourself against his lips, pushing down roughly on his hardness as you cry against his lips as a hand lands on your ass, skin taunt and red instantly at the roughness.
"You're upset." Words whispered against his chest, fingers running over the outline of the square jaw teasingly, tongue reaching out to lick it. He feels his own eyes roll into the back of his head with a whimper. "Let me make it up to you, I wanna taste you in my mouth again."
Muscles scream and ache, sore already from his brutal grip but it's the least of anyone's concern as you sink into knees between his large, muscular thighs squeezing them teasingly. Mouth pressing over the cloth covered skin of his inner thighs, mouthing him through the fabric as his face turns red. His fist roughly tightening in hair until it's so tight it hurts when he pulls your head back to pick your haze towards his face. "Don't tease me girl, you're not going to like what happens if you keep it up brat."
Your mouth waters watching his taunt muscles bunch the fabric of his shirt at the collar pull the beskar and shirt in one go careless of where it lands. He's bare now, muscularly lean as his hips press himself into your hand, a reminder of the task but you can't find yourself to look away from the tanned, creamy chest right above his heart, eyes reaching the black lines of words. "Another one?"
The one on his neck was large, a symbol of what he claimed was leadership but in plain English right above his heart made your heart beat faster. Shaky fingers trace the curves of letters on his pec, skin soft. Your name, it was healed and black already starting to fade, it's been there for some time now. Heart stammers against his chest as he hears the softness of your tone, "Why?"
"It belongs to you, I thought it was only right."
Despite the swelling of your heart finger’s play with the waist band of his pants before curling around them pulling them just enough that they're almost revealing his throbbing erection but his finger's cupping your jaw hault all actions forcing you to look at him through hooded eyelids. "I want to hear you want it."
“Please.” A shock of pleasure running straight through his body to his throbbing cock, “Can I touch you? I wanna suck you off, please, please let me.”
You must look pathetic on your knees, eyes welting with tears of the new found discovery on his chest, bottom lips slightly pouting that he stopped you in the first place. Big doe like eyes never leaving his, you sound so fucked. "Please..."
A small groan leaves the half naked man's throat pressing his thumb against your chin roughly, while his other fingers leaving a trail along their wake on their way to your breast cupping gently, teasing you just a little more.
The way he stares at you, as you wait for any gesture, any tilt of his head to say you can. He's testing you seeing if you're even capable of behaving but little does he realize when it came to him his girl would so anything he asks. It's intimating, feeling his eyes shift over you, tall even sitting down, towering actually.
“Fine, only because you asked like a good girl." Din's finger help you as he lifts his hips to move the pants and boxers up and over his ass and to the floor leaving him completely bare. After so many months it's a beautiful sight, hard, throbbing under your touch, an angry pink that just wants relief.
Tongue meets the delicate skin of his balls first, a soft huff of relief falling from his lips as you continue to lick a stride against them, taking one into your mouth almost as fast.
The Mandalorian actually chokes, the feeling of you after so long as him falling from his elbows to lay flat against the bed. Hands gathering your hair into a messy pony tail, not only for a better view but to taunt that he can take control anytime.
He's about to warn you about teasing him again when he feels a small kiss against his inner thigh but his tip pushing past your lips as him bitting down on his lip so hard he swears he tasting blood. "Sweet girl, so-- good."
The mixture of salty pre-cum and saliva makes it easy to move him past your lips until he reaches the deepest part of your throat, holding him there a few seconds to taste the saltiness of him until your nose feels the dark hairs of his abdomen Warm and tight around him, fingers gripping harder as his hips involuntarily buck into you deeper, choking you until eyes start to water.
After that you waste no time taking him inside your mouth to the point that your lips were completely around him as him he hits the back of your throat with every stroke. Adding his own hips to the mixture as the intense feeling of your gagging only vibrates against him, the sounds that fill the room are filthy, wet and slippery as spit begins to dribble down your chin.
"Maker --." He squeezes his eyes shut feeling the distant building of heat run down his legs, warm his belly. "Did you think about this? Think --." He can't even finish a sentence with how deep you take him, throat already staring to ache but every time his cock pierces the threshold of your throat soothing it instantly. "Think about sucking me off?"
Head nodding frantically as one of your hands slip just to relieve the pressure between your legs but his own around your wrist stops you. A soft whine makes around him makes it almost impossible to push away but with every ounce of self control he has he pulls his throbbing cock from your mouth, the thick line of spit that comes that connects you two makes him want to explode on your face right there.
Din pulls you up by your arm onto his lap once again as fingers waste no time to reach between your legs, thee slick of your wetness coating the tips of his fingers as he pulls the pants from your hips. “You're so wet honey, is this all for me?"
He doesn't even give you the chance to reply as fingers dip down to your wet slit, sticking a finger in your gaping hole a quarter of the way with one goal in mine to coat them in some wetness before slipping it past his lips, wanting a taste. "Just as sweet as I remember, want you to taste."
With his face only inches from your own, it's so filthy. The way he pulls his fingers from between lips, his own string of spit as the appendages slip past your own lipsb rolling against your tongue before closing your lips around them. “Such a dirty girl aren’t you?” 
The heat of Din's chest flushing your breast is enough to have you dizzy with bliss. He's so sexy like this, confident, radiates with new found power that turns you to putty in his hands.
You can't help as you lean forward to capture his lips again tongue eagerly meeting his. Din kisses back instantly, the taste of you being exchanged passionately through the heated kiss as hands falling to the back of your hair, tugging it gently as hips buck as you lower yourself against his cock. At this point Din feels his heart pounding against his chest, doesnt believe the way you dry hump, he wouldn't even call it that: the wetness that soaks his thighs is anything but dry.
It almost physically hurts not being inside of you, hot a ready against you, gentle fingers hook at your hips effortlessly flipping your whole body weight until your hands and head push against the softness of the mattress using fingers to bring your ass towards him until it's presses against his own bare hips. “Ass up baby.”
Din couldn’t help but groan at the sight of you, naked, pussy in the air for him, ready to be used in any way he sees fit. A rough hand kneading the flesh of your ass cheek, other one coming up to spank you so hard you gasp as it sends tingles of pain down sore legs. His lips coming down to the point of attack pressing a small kiss against it, then using his hand to run over the bubbling spot, welt red with pulsing pain. “You looked so pretty with your lips around me around my cock but seeing red with my marks makes me want to destroy you."
"Please, please.." At this point you don't know what you're begging for but Din's not ready to give up that easy, he's not done reminding you that you are without a doubt his.
A large hand guides down your back feeling the grooves of your spine against his own fingertips until hand reached the back of your neck with one hard grab but then down back down until he reaches your ass kneading both cheeks so close to your throbbing heat. A lingering blaze of heat where his fingers were as he pushes your head deeper into the matress. "Beg me to touch you needy girl. I don't think I'm convinced you want me anymore."
"I do." The clock of his tongue tells you he's disappointed, panic tearing through your throat as his finger moved further from where you need him most, tears of frustration prickling eyes as his hand pushes your head deeper into the mattress. “No! No -- please touch me. I want it, need you so bad, lay here every night thinking of it." With one last crack of your voice words spewing at any effort of some type of relief. "Do whatever you want to me, fill me up bear, I wanna be yours.."
It's only for a second, the way he tenses and throbs between your ass cheeks, chest doesn't dare move, not believing the words that came from your mouth. Soft kisses against the back of your thighs, lip meeting with your clit that sends a shock up your spine, goosebumps breaking out at the euphoric feeling. Din didn’t waste any time as he puckers his lips and sucks on your heat, tongue trusting inside of your tight hole enjoying the sounds coming from you as he mumbles against you, "Want me to fill you up sweet girl? Want my seed deep in you?"
Wet, sloppy noises falling from where his lips connect to you the sounds he was making with his lips and tongue are almost sinful as a rush of heat runs through your body hand coming down on your ass, a little awkward at this position but it's more to show how serious he is. "Answer me."
"Yes! Oh, yes! I want you to feel you all night."
The tip of Din’s tongue flickers the soft bundle of nerves making you mewl, his finger filling you snuggly and to the brink without warning, not wasting any time they leave only to come back and reach that spot in that makes your eyes roll back into your head. The sounds falling from between your legs were heavenly, wetness dripping from your thighs to the bed but he could care less about right now.
“I’m gonna cum.” The devilish smirk was not visible to your own eyes as pulls his finger from the wetness, eyes running over your swollen pussy puffy with pleasure. 
"Wha?” The orgasm haze was starting to take over leaving you slightly drowsy as tears sting with frustration groaning into the pillow trying to lift your head but Din's hand in your hair prevents that pressing you back against the soft material. 
“Good girl take what they're given." He growls harshly but the gentle kisses against your neck say otherwise; soft and wet soothing the spot where he grabbed earlier. Words dangerous as lips chaste over your ear, "You can remember that the next time you stick up for him."
Din is kneeling between your thighs, leg against your inner knee spreading your legs just enough for he can fit. Arching your back against him, silently begging to end your misery already.
The sounds of his hand using your wetness to jerk himself off behind you otherresting against your ass and squeezing the softness. He doesn't give any warning, the sudden feeling of a burning but pleasurable stretching causing a small gasp to fall from lips swollen from all the biting from the previous finger fucking.
Din’s finger come behind you to tease the bundle of nerves, making your whine as he sinks every inch of his cock until he's nestled so deep it's hard to breath. It's a delicious burn, one that makes you so light headed it's hard to even form words. "Maker, Din."
Din's hands rest against the swells of your ass, eyes tilting towards the filthy sight of him snuggly pressing into you, testing the waters with one deep, slow thrust. The sound you make is straight up sinful, makes him groan on his own accord as you clench around him.
Hips snap faster watching his cock disappear and reappear into your silky opening over and over again a wave of pleasure tingling his spine every time he hits the spot that makes you dumb. He wants to comment on it but can't form words at the sight of his cock covered in your arousal, it has his thighs shaking with heat, stomach stirring with the familar feeling of relief, his whole body on fire. With every push of hips, strokes steady, long and rough hitting to fill you every single time.
The sounds falling from you mixed with pleasure and pain but it felt so good having him in you again. Din loves it, hips rolling into you, pussy dripping between the two of you, smearing his thighs, leaking down yours. Eyes trained your bouncing ass as he listens to the squeals of his name.
Back arching pushing him deeper inside of you to hit that spot that makes you cry as a hand rest against the small of back giving him a better angle to fuck you senselessly. “Din, oh maker, so fucking good."
"Yeah sweetheart? Missed me huh?"
Nails digging into the flesh of your hip as sweat begins to bead on his forehead and chest, heat washing over his whole body as he feels himself grow closer and closer to giving you want you want most. “i’m so close bear, please let me..” you manage to mumble as the pleasure pinches your voice hoping he doesn't steal this one from you as well.
"Want me to fill you up sweet girl? Tell me you want it.
"I want it so bad, want to feel you for weeks." There is no doubt in any of your minds you will.
"Come for me, give it to me." Your orgasm hits you instantly clenching around him so hard he chokes. Din on the other hand continues to drive his cock deep inside of you a small whine falling from his lips. 
With the last of his trust he explodes, cum lining you, filling you to the brink. Maker, there's so much as it drips between you and onto the bed, he doesn't dare move trying to keep whatever he can manage in. Taking a second to recover with heavy pants against your back before fingers hook around you turning you to face him as you both breath with heavy breaths.
Sagging into the matress completely spent, chest rising and falling to match the pattern of your thumping heart. Eyes blurring in a haze even though it's only temporary your limbs feel heavy as a gentle hand cups your cheek tilting your head in which you can only guess his direction. Din doesn't move, keeps himself burried deep inside of you, not daring to break the warmth he's missed.
"Are you with me Cyar'ika?" The post sex haze wearing away but he's till blurry, you're too tired as eyes slowly begin to shut.
"I want to go with you. I want to go home."
There was no home, Din knew exactly what the words meant, a metaphor for himself, he would forever be your home. It was sweet, made him warm and blush but lazy lips trail from your shoulder pressing his face into your neck with a sigh, words whispered breathlessly. "You belong here, I will come back when you are ready."
"I don't want you to leave." The words are hard to process as hot tears slip past your eyes flushing the cold skin of his cheek.
The way the words sound so broken, gasped out with emotion is soul crushing. Din presses his face deeper, cheek against cheek as the tears burn. "I'll try and visit more.. it won't be another seven months. Luke will have a way to communicate with me for emergencies." He pauses, hands rubbing over your hair to comfort in any way that would help, lifting his face until your nose bumps his own. "I wouldnt able to live with myself letting you leave here yet... You have come so far, you have so much more to accomplish my sweet girl."
"Stay an extra day." Tomorrow morning was coming too fast, it breaks your heart knowing it would be months before laying eyes on your Mandalorian again. Din turns his head not being able to look you in the eyes that he can't, he promised Bo-Katan that he needed one day then he would be back to the war, it was bad timing as it is. The sniffles against his neck, the whine as he shifted inside her once again made him crack. "Anything for you baby, I love you so much. I'm sorry for before, did I hurt you? I -."
"It's okay, It's been a long time Din, I understand. It was perfect." It's doesn't take a rocket scientist to understand, the uncertainty of seven months and you couldn't find yourself to blame him.
**
It's funny how missing someone works, it's been weeks since he's left but in the morning you find yourself not being able to move from the bed, the sheets still smell like him. Remember all the soft spoken words, the promises that he'll be back to you home, to him where you belonged.
Luke sits in front of you, Grogu on his lap as you try and concentrate but the small hands against your stomach make you frown, head tilting down at the green fingers that coo softly. He's been doing that very often lately. What a weird little creature.. cute but weird.
The soft huff that falls from Luke makes you pause, now question his eyes with your own. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, accomplishing what you failed to do. The force is strong with him, murmuring things of the past and impending future.
Now his hand covers the child's who lays his forehead against it. "He senses life. I feel it."
The words stun you, momentarily pausing as your mouth falls open. "I saw the future, I saw your baby due in months time. Another generation of Jedi."
And the heir to the Mandalorian throne.
749 notes · View notes
sonoftatooine · 3 years
Text
Whumpay 2021
DAY 19: HOPE / DESPAIR
Finally, this one took ages
Characters: Padmé Amidala, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker
Warnings: Brainwashing
Summary: Winter Soldier AU - Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker disappeared from the face of the Galaxy the day Palpatine executed Order 66. Padmé Amidala, however, managed to escape from Coruscant when the Empire was formed and became a founding member of the Rebellion. Several years later, when Obi-Wan Kenobi manages to capture the Emperor’s infamous Sith apprentice, Darth Vader, Padmé is left to deal with the horrifying discovery of what happened to her husband at the fall of the Republic.
***
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
Padmé Amidala, former Senator of Naboo and member of the High Council of the Rebel Alliance, frowned down at the screen displaying the flickering vid feed of her lost husband in the room adjacent to the high security—or as high security as their current base could afford them—cell in which he was being held.  She had been stood there for at least ten minutes, hovering, waiting, and in all of that time, Anakin had not so much as twitched—so much so that she might have been fooled into thinking that she was looking at a still image if not for the rise and fall of his chest and the occasional blink. It was so unlike him—her restless husband, always on the move, but who had always come back to her until the day that he didn't—that it made her eyes burn with the effort to hold back tears. This was wrong, so wrong—
“Yes, Obi-Wan, I'm sure” she said once she was sure she could bite back the sharp reply that was on the tip of her tongue that the man beside her didn't at all deserve. Of course she was sure. How could she not be sure, when this was her husband—the man she loved with all the force of a thousand stars—at stake? She had to.
“You don't have to, Padmé.” Stood beside her, arms folded over his chest, and tired blue eyes fixed as unrelentingly on Anakin's frozen figure as her own, Obi-Wan Kenobi sighed, his mouth curved downwards in an unhappy line. Grief had aged him badly since the horrors of Order 66 and the beginnings of Palpatine's Empire. There were new lines around his eyes, and his auburn hair was fast turning white, but the change over those years was not nearly as stark as that which had been wrought upon him over the past few days. He looked raw and worn down, no matter how he tried to disguise it with his regular stoicism, as if he was on the verge of being swallowed by despair. Ever since the Empire had come for him on his last mission. Ever since they had managed to capture the Emperor's enforcer, Darth Vader.
Vader. Lord Vader. The name sent a shiver of horror through her, but not for the reasons that it once had. Before, she had known him simply as the latest in what seemed to be Darth Sidious' ever replenishing supply of Sith apprentices, and one of the most troubling additions to the Empire's ranks. Robed and masked entirely in black, without even the slightest indication to what lay beneath his impenetrable disguise, he had been a complete unknown to all but Palpatine himself—Empire and Rebellion alike—save for the brutal efficiency with which he carried out his duties. They had watched the Emperor's transmission introducing him to the Galaxy—her and Obi-Wan and Bail, while Luke and Leia slept soundly in their cribs watched over by Threepio and Artoo—from their bunker about a year after the Empire was formed. Padmé remembered seeing him, standing tall and motionless, three steps behind his master, and had felt a frisson of fear and misery run through her that she hadn't quite understood at the time.
She understood now. Oh Force, she thought as the image of Anakin, swamped in black robes and strapped, unconscious, to a gurney, and Obi-Wan's anguished look as he gasped out “he doesn't remember us; he doesn't even remember who he is”, swam through her mind. Oh Force, she understood now.
“Yes, I do,” she said, with a nod that looked far more decisive than she felt. She clutched the pile of warm cloaks and blankets that she had brought with her tight to her chest. Anakin had always hated the cold, and she couldn't bear the thought of him all alone in that cell without at least making sure he was as comfortable as possible. “He's my husband. I want to see him.”
She wanted to see him ever since they had brought him off the ship, ever since she had been dragged away from Coruscant by a harried Obi-Wan and Bail, crying and begging for them to take her back, that they needed to find Anakin, they couldn't leave him there. Anakin who she had last seen standing to the right of the Chancellor during the meeting of the Delegation of the 2000, hands bundled into the voluminous sleeves of his Jedi robes and not quite able to meet her eyes. Who had been sent by the Council to report to Palpatine the day of Order 66, and had never been seen since.
Until now.
“Padmé, he tried to attack me when I went to talk to him,” Obi-Wan reminded her grimly. “Ahsoka too. He doesn't remember any of us. All he knows is what Sidious has made him believe. What if he hurts you?”
Padmé shook his head.
“He won't hurt me” she whispered. He wouldn't hurt her. Anakin would never— But she didn't think he could ever have tried to hurt Obi-Wan either. Or Ahsoka. But he didn't remember any of them, because Sidious had taken him and forced him to forget everything, turned him into his weapon— She was shaking, full of rage and grief, but she pushed them both down. It was alright now. It would have to be alright. He was with the Rebellion now and they would heal him of whatever vile Sith had done to him and then he could meet their two precious children and everything would be alright—
“Padmé.” She thought, faintly, that Obi-Wan had managed to hone saying her name in a tone of utmost exasperation and frustration to a fine art. No doubt Anakin had given him a great deal of practice in the past. “He's not the Anakin we know. Not anymore.”
This time, it took a great deal more effort for her to swallow her harsh retort. Obi-Wan had given up hope a long time ago—the night of Order 66 when his bond to Anakin had snapped. He had thought him dead, and blamed himself for it—the Council had pushed him into spying on Palpatine, he had said, and he was sure that Anakin had discovered the man's secret and been killed for it. She remembered how he had looked, blurred through her tears as they rushed through hyperspace away from Coruscant—dishevelled and worn, the telltale signs of his battle with Grievous burnt into his Jedi robes, and a haunted look in his eyes, misted up with tears that he refused to let fall. He had come back from his last visit to Anakin's cell much the same, convinced that his old padawan had died with whatever it was that Palpatine had put him through, that what was left was nothing but a shell of the man he had loved as a brother.
(It still hadn't stopped him from abruptly ending a call with Yoda when the old Jedi Grandmaster had suggested “lost to the Dark, young Skywalker is; let him go, you should”.)
“I don't believe that,” she said. She had never believed Anakin to be dead. Refused to believe it, told Luke and Leia all sorts of stories about their brave and dashing father that she saw so much of in each of them, hoping beyond hope that one day he would be there to share his own stories with them. She wasn't about to give up now, when he was here—finally here, in front of her, no matter how changed, and no matter what Jedi platitudes about letting go she heard. “We can save him. I know we can.”
She turned her pleading gaze to Obi-Wan, but he refused to meet her eyes. He was still staring at the screen, and though his expression was blank, she could see the longing in his gaze—longing and fear. Fear that he would get his hopes up when nothing could be done. Fear that she would get hurt trying. Padmé sighed sadly. Obi-Wan may have given up hope, but she wasn't about to let him fall into despair.
“Obi-Wan, you'll be here the whole time,” she said, softly, soothingly. “I have faith that you'll protect me, if need be.”
Obi-Wan scowled, finally turning to look at her, but there was a hint of something gentle and fond beneath it.
“The pair of you will be the death of me” he sighed. It was barely a ghost of how he had been before, when they had all been together and happy and none of them had been brainwashed into becoming a Sith, but it was familiar enough that Padmé couldn't help but send him a watery smile.
“Please, Obi-Wan, I'm ready.”
Reluctantly, Obi-Wan nodded.
“I'll be just on the other side of the door.”
Despite her words, Padmé's heart felt like it might burst out of her chest as she stepped into Anakin's cell, the pneumatic hiss of the door closing behind her reverberating in her ears like a threat. She was not afraid. At least, she was not afraid of the figure sitting, head bowed, on the little cot in front of her—he had not attacked any of his visitors since the two Jedi; indeed, had barely acknowledged them, enough so that the High Council had deemed it as safe as it would ever be for her to see him—but she was afraid of what would happen next. Of what she would learn from this meeting. Of looking into her husband's eyes and finding him unrecognisable. But Padmé was never one to shy away from things that made her afraid, and so she took a deep breath, and murmured:—
“Anakin.”
No response.
“I brought these.” She gestured to the robes and blankets in her arms. “I thought you might be cold.”
That got a reaction from him. Slowly, jerkily, as if his head were being lifted up by a string, he turned his face towards her. The sight of him made her want to scream—scream and cry and hold him in her arms and never let go. He looked sick and gaunt, and the change from golden tan to waxy white looked even more stark under the bright lights of the cell, the circles under his eyes dark like bruises. And his eyes, oh his eyes. The sparkling blue that she remembered—had loved and missed so much for all that she saw it every day in the face of their son—had been replaced with the same horrible yellow that she had seen deep set in the sunken face of Emperor Palpatine, gleaming cruelly under the shadow of his hood, during Empire Day transmissions. But that wasn't even the worst of it. Anakin's eyes had always been so expressive, brimming with love and joy and fear and anger and grief, as if he felt too much and too deeply to keep it all inside. It was one of the things that she loved about him. Now, however, he turned those sickly eyes to her and she saw nothing in them but blankness. For the first time in his life, Anakin Skywalker looked upon her and he felt nothing.
Padmé swallowed, fighting back the urge to cry. She wanted to run to him, bury her fingers in his hair and press her lips to his as she used to do each time he came home to her from the war, but, with what felt like a monumental effort, she pushed the desire away. That wasn't what Anakin needed right now, no matter how much she wanted it. Instead, she waited for him to reply, waited for some sort of acknowledgement—anything to indicate what she should do, what she should say.
None came.
She sighed. Stepping forward, she leaned down and placed the pile of clothes next to him on the bed, trying to keep her heart from shattering into a thousand pieces at the tiny flinch he gave as she approached him. Carefully, so as not to startle him, she pulled back, coming to a stop once she was far enough away for him to relax minutely. Hot tears burnt at her eyes.
“Do you know who I am?” she asked, wishing that her voice did not sound so shaky, so thick with emotion. Anakin had always had a way of bringing out absolute honesty in her—even when she didn't even know she was trying to hide something—and now, confronted with her husband whom she hadn't seen in years, and who had spent every day of those long years suffering under the man who had enslaved the entire Galaxy to his will, all her politician's training, all her masks and airs had fled her. Even if she had wanted to, she couldn't have done a thing to hide her feelings from him.
Anakin frowned.
“You are Padmé Amidala,” he answered tonelessly. His voice was as dead and as flat as the look in his eyes. He sounded hoarse and tired, like he used to after waking up from a particularly bad nightmare. Like he had when he had when he had dreamt of her death in childbirth, only a week before he had disappeared, before she had run and left him— “One of the founders of the Rebellion.”
“That's right,” she said, with a nod that she wasn't sure was meant to encourage him or herself. “Do you— Is there anything else you remember about me?”
She knew it would be no. She knew he remembered nothing. But she wanted so badly for him to remember at least something of her. Wanted to know that Sidious hadn't taken everything from him. No matter what she wanted, though, she knew what his answer would be. Knew it and feared it.
“I understand that it's more usual for an interrogator to ask their prisoner for information,” Anakin replied. He tilted his head to the side, the expression on his face somewhere between confused and wary. “Not questions about themselves.”
He didn't sound like Anakin. Or rather, he sounded like Anakin—his voice sounded like Anakin, but the words, said in that flat, dull tone— It was wrong, all wrong. Oh my love, Padmé thought. My love, what has that monster done to you?
“I'm not interrogating you, Anakin” she said. She fought keep her voice steady and calm, even as she wanted nothing more than to burst into tears. Anakin's frown deepened, a look of suspicion flitting across his face.
“Why does everyone keep calling me that?” he asked, and for the first time, there seemed to be a hint of something else in his flat tone, a hint of uncertainty, of apprehension. His hands twitched, like he wanted to twist his fingers together like he used to do beneath the sleeves of his Jedi robes when he was nervous. Instead, he balled them tight into fists.
Padmé sent him a watery smile.
“It's your name, Ani.”
My Ani, she thought, watching him twitch oddly at the contraction of his name, turning sharply away. Her Ani who didn't even remember his own name. Oh, what was she going to do. How could she help him when he remembered nothing—nothing about his friends, nothing about her, nothing about himself—and they didn't even know what it was that Palpatine had done to him to cause this? She felt despair rushing in on her like a shark that had scented blood in the water, but she pushed back against it. She couldn't given in now. For Anakin's sake, she couldn't give up hope.
“How much has Obi-Wan told you?” she asked carefully. It was a risk mentioning Obi-Wan—a Jedi, a man he had ostensibly been sent to kill before the Rebellion had captured him—but she needed to know how much he had actually taken in.
Yellow eyes flicked back to her, the wariness and suspicion turning his expression even more closed off and guarded than it had been before.
“He told me I was once his Jedi apprentice,” he replied. “But I suppose you'll claim that I was your closest friend in the Senate. Or have you had the chance to corroborate your stories since Kenobi's last visit?”
The harshness of his words—as much as their content—made it all the harder to hold back her tears. Anakin had hardly ever spoken to her like that, was hardly ever sharp with her. Around her, perhaps, when he was particularly upset or frustrated, but rarely with her. It was yet another reminder of what had been done to him—the changes Sidious had forced upon him, as if he were nothing but a droid to be reprogrammed according to an owner's desire. Well, she would fix it, she would help him, and she would never let that vile man near him again. But to do that, she would have to get him to believe her, and for him to believe her, she—
“I'm not lying to you,” she insisted. “I promise you. It's Palpatine—Sidious—who has lied to you. You were a Jedi—have been since you were nine years old. Near the end of the war, the Council was concerned about the powers Palpatine had gathered for himself and sent you to report on him. But you— They sent you to his office the day he ordered the Jedi killed and then you disappeared. The Jedi thought you were dead, but he took you and he did something to you and you don't remember it because—”
“No.”
The sharp growl silenced her rambling mid-sentence. Her mouth clicked shut and her eyes widened as Anakin stood abruptly from the bed, his expression as hard as durasteel. Padmé swallowed, a flicker of nervousness fluttering in her stomach that she ruthlessly pushed down. She wondered if Obi-Wan was getting ready to dash into the cell from the other side of the door, afraid that he was about to attack her. But she refused to share that fear. She had never been afraid of Anakin, and she never would.
“No,” Anakin repeated, more softly this time. Instead of starting towards her, he prowled away to the far corner of the cell, back not quite turned to her—just enough to keep her in his line of sight—and hunched in on himself, arms crossed defensively across his chest. It was such a familiar gesture that, despite herself, Padmé couldn't help but feel a sliver of relief at the sight of it. Whatever Sidious had done to him, he hadn't managed to chase every last part of him from his mind. “My master warned me about this,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. “He told me that you would try to deceive me, turn me against him—”
“He's the one deceiving you!,” she cried, trying to ignore worm of uneasiness in her stomach at the thought of the Emperor warning her husband against the Jedi and the Rebellion—or perhaps her specifically. If she could just get him to see, just get him to believe— “I don't know what he's done to you but please, Anakin, all we want is to help you. All I want is to help you. But to help you, I need you to believe me—”
She approached him, slowly, cautiously, as one might a wounded animal. His gaze fixed on her the whole way, wary, unrelenting, but he did not move, frozen to the spot. She itched to reach out to him, to pull him in and hold him close, but she wrestled the urge down to the depths of her heart.
“Please, Ani,” she begged, barely a whisper. “Please.”
Anakin stared down at her, and for a moment, she thought she saw a flash of blue in those yellow eyes.
“You haven't told me who you are,” he said, after a long moment of silence. His tone was guarded, cautious, just as quiet as her own. “Who you were to me. If what you say is true, what did I mean to you?”
Everything, Padmé thought. You meant everything to me. You mean everything to me. You and Luke and Leia. And one day, I'll be able to have them meet their father and you'll mean everything to them too. Her heart, too full of love and fear and hope and despair, ached in her chest, snatching up all her words before they could reach her mouth. How could she say all of this to him? How could she say any of this to him, when he barely believed she was telling him the truth about his name?
“You're—”
She faltered, unsure what to do. Would it be too much for him, finding out that he was married to a woman he didn't even remember? But what could she say? She couldn't lie to him—wouldn't lie to him. She wanted him to trust her again, like he used to before everything had gone so wrong, and how could they ever help him if they too deceived him?
“I'm...I...I'm your wife.”
Anakin froze stock still.
“...What?” he whispered hoarsely.
“It's true.” Padmé could no longer stop herself. She reached out slowly with both hands, making to smooth down his hair—it had always calmed him down after a nightmare; maybe if he accepted the truth, it might soothe him a little now? He gave an odd little jerk at the contact, his tongue darting out nervously to wet his lips, but he didn't pull away, still frozen to the spot, staring down at her with wide eyes. “Please believe me. It's true. I'm your wife—”
“No,” Anakin cut across her again. This time, however, his eyes had not hardened, and he could see the uncertainty creeping into them. His voice shook. “No, you're a liar.”
His hand—the one of durasteel that she had held at their wedding after he lost it to Count Dooku—darted up to snatch her wrist. But instead of shoving her right away, he held her in place, her hand hovering between them, arm extended towards him, as if he could not decide whether to push her aside or pull her closer. Padmé stared into his eyes, vaguely aware that Obi-Wan was probably panicking by now on the other side of the door. She could feel the strength in his grip, well acquainted with what his mechno hand could do. He had been horribly embarrassed when he had managed to crush several of her cups after their wedding, still unused to the amount of force his prosthetic required compared to his flesh hand. If he wanted to, he could tighten his grip now and crush her just as he had those cups, shatter every bone in her wrist. But he did not press down. He didn't even so much as grip hard enough to bruise.
“I'm not,” she cried—really cried, the tears she had been holding back starting to trickle down her cheeks. “I swear to you—”
“You didn't corroborate your stories after all,” Anakin retorted. “I could hardly have been a Jedi and a husband.”
Padmé shook her head, blinking heavily to keep the tears from blurring her vision. It would be alright, she told herself. She could persuade him. His voice was not nearly so certain as his words, and if she could just explain properly—
“You broke the Code to marry me,” she said. “We kept it secret, so you could stay as a Jedi and I could keep serving in the Senate until the war was over—”
“How convenient” Anakin returned, perhaps not as derisively as he had intended. He still hadn't let go of her wrist.
Padmé shook her head again, more insistently this time. She reached once more with her free hand to cradle his cheek in his palm.
“Please, Anakin, please. I love you. I love—”
“No!” With a cry, Anakin jerked backwards. The durasteel fingers wrapped about her wrist pulled away. “No! You—”
But words seemed to be beyond him. He staggered back, hand shooting out to steady himself against the wall, but it wasn't enough. His legs failed him, and he sank down to the floor, forehead pressed to his knees, trembling violently.
“This isn't—,” he hissed. “You can't— It's a trick. It's a trick—”
His hands fisted in his hair, so tight that Padmé thought he might tear clumps of it out. She rushed to his side, wiping her tears away furiously with her sleeve. She had pushed him too far. It was too much for him—too much at once.
“Padmé.”
Anakin's head shot up just as Padmé turned around to see Obi-Wan standing in the doorway, trying to remain impassive and failing miserably. She caught a flurry of movement in the corner of her eyes—Anakin had forced himself to stand back up, pressed up against the wall. He looked like a cornered loth-wolf, hunched in on himself, ready to spring, his yellow eyes wide and feral.
“It's alright,” Obi-Wan soothed, holding up the palms of his hands to show him he wasn't armed. Despite the calmness of his tone, Padmé could hear the agony beneath his words. “I won't hurt you. We will leave you to rest now.”
He turned a significant glance towards her, and Padmé could do nothing but nod, for all that she wanted to stay. She didn't want to overwhelm Anakin any more than she had already. Swallowing thickly, she forced down her tears, turning to meet her husband's unnatural yellow eyes with her own glistening brown.
“I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I'm so sorry.”
She made it to the other side of the door before she broke down in tears.
(Later, when she came to check on him to find him curled up in the warm robe she'd brought him, she cried for very different reasons).
120 notes · View notes
wendystales · 3 years
Text
Memories - lrh (Chapter Eighteen)
Tumblr media
Memories (also on Wattpad)
Chapter Seventeen ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ Chapter Nineteen
I remember the first time I really wanted to see New York. I must have been about 12 years old and was watching a random episode of Friends that was on TV. I saw those flashes of the city between one scene and another, and I thought it was amazing, the great stone jungle.
When I turned 16, my dad gifted me with a trip to New York, not because it was my favorite place in the world, but because it was on sale. There were 10 days where the only time I stopped to rest was bedtime. We went to almost every tourist spot, took thousands of photos and it was definitely one of the best trips I've ever been on.
Now, the city that I once wanted to know and live in, like the characters in Friends, felt like a prison. I wasn't there of my own free will or for a truly irrefutable proposal. I was there out of fear and passion, the most dangerous mixture.
I believe that at some point, a few months from now, I'm going to start loving New York, but right now, I can only feel contempt.
I pass through the arrivals gate, looking at those millions of unfamiliar faces, waiting for someone. I'm looking for a sign with my name or the logo of the Hastings Agency.
I find my name in the hands of a boy a little taller than me. Dark hair and fair skin, he needs sun. In an impeccable suit, but fumbling with his cell phone and notepad.
I approach slowly, able to hear his voice, replaying a million things. He said something about waiting for me to arrive and taking me to the hotel. Something about treating me kindly and not asking questions. I stop in front of him with a sympathetic smile, watching him widen his eyes and quickly turn off his cell phone.
“Miss McGonagall, welcome to New York.” he takes my hand, squeezing it and shaking it quickly. “I'm Edward. I will be responsible for your schedule.” I can't control the smile, noticing him nervousness. In other words, he was my Noah.
“Hi! Yeah, you can call me Marnie, that's fine. I prefer, actually.”
“Oh! Of course.” his cheeks turn pink. “Well, I'll drop you off at the hotel to rest and tomorrow at 8:00 am you should be at Valentino's studio for the rehearsal of the new bag collection. At 2:45 pm you should already be at Chanel's studio, they want to take your measurements and do some color and fabric tests for the fashion show at the end of the month. Then, at 5:00 pm, you will participate in the E! podcast, and I believe that after that you will be free for the rest of the day.” he passes it on to me as we head out of the airport.
“OK!” that's all I have to say.
“Sorry if I'm being nosy, but were you the one who required a lot of work for the next two months? I mean, you have a really busy schedule. If you don't want something, I can try to help.” he flips through the calendar while we wait for a car.
“No! It's OK. I was the one who asked. I was down for a while and I need to get back to work.” I give a slight smile, debating. "Hm, was the doctor I asked for by any chance be marked?"
“Yes! Wednesday at 3pm.” he smiles proudly, making me smile too. Edward seems like a nice guy.
We got into a silver car and went to the hotel. Along the way, Edward answers a few calls, closing in on his tasks. I seize the moment and close myself in my own world. I get my cell phone, turning it on and seeing that tsunami of people looking for me. Missed calls, messages, dm on twitter and instagram, everyone looking for me, but not him.
I lock my cell phone, trying to focus my mind on the new beginning I sought for myself. I admire the city through the car window, trying to find a piece of home there. I feel the phone vibrate in my lap with Kyleen's name, but I just decline the call. In seconds, the screen lights up again and several messages come in, I believe they are hers, but I don't even bother to look. I have no courage.
The car stops in front of the Intercontinental, and just like that, Edward jumps out of the car.
“Your loft, unfortunately, is not ready yet. So you're going to have to stay here for a few days.” he explains, heading towards the reception desk.
I stand behind him, taking in the details of the hotel. Before long, I'm entering a room on the 14th floor, with a beautiful view of the city. The bags are left in the small room before the bedroom.
I smile at my new “Noah” showing that everything is perfect.
“Good! I'll let you rest for tomorrow. Anything, these are my phones.” he gives me a card. "And you can call me at any time. I live near here, I will come in a few minutes.”
“Thank you so much, Edward. You are very kind." Again, your cheeks turn pink.
As he heads for the door, I start rummaging through my bags for pajamas.
“Hm, sorry if I'm not being professional right now, but since I believe we'll be working together in the next few months, I imagine a good relationship is essential, so you can call me Eddie.”
I open an even bigger smile, seeing that Eddie was willing to make a friendship, which is perhaps the thing I need most at the moment.
“Thanks, Eddie!” he smiles and this time he walks away, leaving me alone again.
I go back to looking for a more comfortable outfit, ignoring my cell phone blinking on the table as I muted it. I grab my clothes, heading to a shower and stay there for a long time, letting the water take everything.
When I get out of the shower, I pick up the bedroom phone, dialing my mother's number, I don't want to take the risk of answering any of my cell phone calls.
"Hello?" her lost tone makes me smile weakly.
“Hi Mom!”
“Hi, my love. How are you? Marnie, what's going on? Leah came here to say you left without saying goodbye. I called Luke, but he did not answer me and Noah said something about you being to move to New York, you told me it would be just a month.” I cover the phone, not wanting her to hear my cry, letting the tears fall. "Marnie?"
“I'm sorry, Mom.” I can't control my voice and pretend it's okay.
“Honey, what's going on? You can tell me. Mom will help you.” I realize she wants to cry too, and that hurts me more.
“I needed to do this, needed to get away from him.” the revelation comes out before I can see it.
"He who? Luke? Why? I thought everything was fine.” her desperate tone returns.
“I'm sorry I can't talk.” I close my throat, holding back tears. “I just want to let you know that I arrived well and that everything is fine.”
“Fine? Marnie, just look at your voice, your condition. I saw what you did to the apartment. Honey, things aren't fine.” now she was angry.
“Mom, please just trust me. I know what I'm doing.” Do I? I clear my throat, holding back the emotion. “I just wanted to call to say I got okay. Later we'll talk.” I hang up the phone before she asks anything else.
I head to the bathroom, drying my hair. I notice that yesterday's anger is still in me as I can't face my image in the mirror, refusing to look deep into my eyes.
With dry hair, I go back to my room, thinking about taking a nap, since I haven't slept all night and even less on the flight. I close my eyes, trying to focus my thoughts on something else. I think about that taxi I saw earlier, trying to park. Or people crossing the street without looking at the sign. At the cookie shop I want to see.
I manage to evade Luke's, my mother's, John's, and Noah's voices, giving myself more and more to the sleep that finally came. Far away, I hear someone knocking hard on the door, but I ignore it, as I had the same thoughts yesterday morning. But I wake up when the pounding comes back stronger and Leah's voice enters the room.
“Marnie Elizabeth McGonagall, open this shit now before I drop it and you know I'm capable of it.” I leap out of bed, running to the door.
She can’t be here.
I open the door, revealing Leah with perhaps the worst expression I've ever seen in the world. She was furious, if not more so. As she storms into my room without waiting for an invitation, I quickly look down the hall, seeing a couple look at me startled. I smile awkwardly, closing the door.
“What are you doing here?” I question, still not understanding.
"What are you doing here? And without warning anyone. Fading in the morning. Breaking up with Luke. What the fuck was that?” she screams.
For a second, I see that my amnesia was an issue with my plan. By not remembering my friendship with everyone, I really believed that I just left and everything would be fine. I didn't imagine anyone would cross the country for me, to understand what was going on.
And if Leah did it, it's a matter of hours before someone else does. They weren't going to leave me alone, they weren't going to forget me, and they weren't going to let this story pass. I need to push them away, but I don't know how.
"Go on, Marnie. What the fuck is going on? And if you tell me it's a job offer, I swear I'll fly at you without pity or mercy, and I'll slap the truth out.” she cross her arms.
I consider the last option a lot because I know she can do it. But I won't tell her the truth, that's not an alternative. I want to believe that if I don't back off, she'll see I'm not lying and won't attack me. And even if she tries, I just run away, I'm closer to the door and there's an armchair between us.
"But it is what it is!" I shrug.
“Stop it!” she screams. “Stop lying, Marnie. Everyone. Everyone knows you're lying, so why don't you tell the truth?” she waves her hands through the air.
“Because there's no other truth, Leah. Will I have to draw it for you?” I make the same moves she does.
“Be my guest!” she sits on the couch. I sigh wearily. I haven't slept for hours, I'm angry with myself and the world and now that I thought the situation was resolved and I just had to go on with my life, she comes and messes everything up.
“Why are you here?” I stay upright.
“I do not know! It must be cause you went crazy and disappeared without saying anything. Didn't answer my calls, no one had any answers about what was going on. So I took my father's jet and came to resolve this situation and I don't leave here without an answer at least.”
In the same way I laugh at Noah, I laugh at her, thinking it will fix everything. Leah carries the same expression as her brother, neutral, mocking.
“Why did you break up with Luke?” she asks quietly.
The mention of his name makes me shiver. I notice how my stomach turns and try to ignore it. I wonder if I can subtly extract some information from his state, but I don't want her to think I still care about him.
"Cause I wasn't in the mood anymore." I shrug, walking through space.
“My God, you've actually lied better.” I glare at her. “You know you're in trouble here, I know you better than anyone. I know you are lying and that you are going through some difficult situation. I even have my theories. So you're going to have to work a lot harder to trick me or get me out of here.” she cracks a smile, feeling victorious.
"Oh do you have? What are your theories?” I mock her.
“The first is that you really freaked out with amnesia and you can't handle it. The second is that you can't handle your feelings about Luke, it happened once before. And the third is that someone put some shit in your head and made you believe that everything would be better if you were out of the way.” I feel her gaze burning into me, looking for any reaction.
I let out a laugh, not forced, nervous that she got it right. Leah raises an eyebrow.
“You really traveled on your theories. Sorry, none are right.”
As if by magic, the answer appears to me. The only way I was going to get rid of everyone and go through with the plan without a hitch was to make her hate me. Make everyone hate me, just like I did Luke.
Just considering their hate for me makes my heart ache. But I need to do this. For Luke. For the boys. It's for their success.
“You know, a few months ago you were asked to be in a movie and you didn't take it cause you said you were a terrible actress. Isn't that right?” she gets up again. “Noah told me you said you were doing this for Luke, because you loved him. Marnie, what are you trying to hide?” she comes closer.
I feel dirty because of the attitude I'm going to take. It's low, very low, but I need her to hate me.
"Look who talks about hiding." I give a cynical laugh. Leah looks at me confused. "Don't you have anything to tell too?" she still doesn't understand. “You and Kyleen?”
Hastings freezes. The bitter taste of my act starts to fill my mouth. I’m sorry, Leah. I’m so sorry.
“How do you know?” she takes a step back.
"Who do you think closed the bathroom door on Ash's birthday?" I raise my eyebrows.
“Is not the same thing.”
“It isn’t? Aren't you hiding something from all of us?” I force a smile like hers a few minutes ago.
“No! Cause I'm not pushing everyone away, I'm not telling lies. And if you asked me, I would tell you the truth. Deep down, you know why I didn't say anything. You know my dad hasn't accepted Noah yet, that this is a problem in our family, and you know he wouldn't accept me either. You know that deep down I'm trying to protect both of us.”
“Oh! Do I?” I debauchery more. Right now, I feel horrible when I see your eyes water. I'm so, so sorry.
“I know what you're trying to do and I'm not going to stage it.” she walks past me to the door.
"Didn't you want to talk? I am talking.” Leah turns to me, straining the knife I carried in my chest, letting me see her crying face.
“You're trying to make me hate you.” now I'm the one who freezes. She laughs. “See how I know you? You are very predictable, Marnie. And as much as I know of your intention, I will not allow you to reach your goal. I hope that one day, not too far away, you realize what a big shit you're doing.” she opens the door, going. “Oh, and before I forget, since it's meant to hurt. Congrats, since your little chat with Luke, he's been locked in his room, needing Michael to keep an eye on him.” so Leah slams the door and strikes the final blow.
I bite the inside of my mouth, letting the tears fall. Honestly, I didn't even have the strength to hold back anymore. The rage burning inside me gives way to pain. I imagine Luke locked in his room, lying on the bed, hating me. Hating what we had and what we thought we had.
I walk over to my suitcase, pulling out a package, with the photos I'd taken from the box and the little white box he'd given me. I open it, holding the necklace with his name on it, the one he gave me.
Even knowing what I had to do, I wouldn't get rid of this necklace, I don't have the courage. It was easier to buy an equal one and put it in his hand. What he did to me would be kept with me forever.
““Closed eyes.” he fights.
"I have my eyes closed." I rebate. “Lucas…” I chide him, when I feel his lips on the back of my neck.
“Sorry, I got distracted.” I hold back the urge to laugh. “Closed eyes.”
"If you say it one more time, you'll get hit." I threat.
"How, if you can't see me?" right now, the urge to hit him is so strong that I follow the sound of his voice, trying to kick him. “Hey! No rudeness, otherwise you'll be left without a gift.” the false authoritative tone makes me angrier. “Good girl!”
“Go!” I kicked.
I'm startled by the icy touch against my neck. It's a necklace. Eagerly, I touch the pendant, recognizing the shape. He didn't do it.
“You can open it.” his hands move to my hips, hugging me.
With my eyes open, I run my vision to my neck, finding there a necklace just like his but blue.
“Happy Birthday!” he drops a kiss on my cheek.
I hold the blue quartz, seeing Luke's name engraved on the back. I let a stupid smile spread across my face, glaring at my boyfriend with the same.
"Want to explain why we're wearing practically identical necklaces?"
“It's a little obvious. Couples wear rings and I know what a problem you have with rings.”
“It’s not a problem.” I try to defend myself.
“It's just Alzheimer's. You know, in some people, it starts before they're 70 years old.” I hit him, and he laughs, before he hugs me. "Like I was saying, I know you're not into wearing a ring, so since I already had my necklace, I thought you'd have yours. That way we'll always be close to each other's hearts.” I rest my hands on his shoulders, standing on tiptoes.
"Have I told you I love you today?" I whisper, moving closer.
“Not after 5 pm.” he pouted, looking at the clock on the wall.
I don't know how I managed to kiss him with such a stupid smile on my face.
“Why do I like you, huh?” I question, stealing a little kiss.
“Because I'm cheesy and romantic. And even if you deny it, I know you get attached to it.” he opens a victorious smile.
"Don't ever say 'get attached' again." I beg laughing.
"What is it, bae? That was awesome.” he laughs.
“No!” I scream, laughing.
"What is it, babe girl? Don't you stick to my way of get in?” he keeps teasing me.
I place my lips on yours, determined to shut your mouth and thank you that it works. My mental reminder of “we're late for dinner” evaporates when his hands reach under my shirt. I scratch the back of his neck, pulling him closer.
“We're late for dinner.” he says against my mouth as I start to unbutton his shirt.
“Just say the traffic was like hell.” I suggest kissing his neck.
Luke accepts the idea, picking me up and walking me back to the bedroom."
It's not hard to know that we were late for dinner that day. But I didn't care, I had been given a necklace with his name on it, a necklace that showed how our relationship was getting more and more serious.
I also realize that the two times I got this necklace, at least once I ended up in bed with him. In fact, in both, but only one made it to the end.
“I hate myself.” I say tiredly, going to the minibar to get anything containing alcohol that makes me forget everything.
I call the front desk for two bottles of champagne and the biggest snack they have. I pick up the small whiskey bottles, turning one after the other, as if they were shot. I shake my head, wanting the effect to start faster.
“I hate myself. Leah hates me. Kiki must hate me now too. Just like Noah and everyone else there. Everybody hates me.” I turn the last one over, shaking my head once more. “Luke hates me. Hates me too much.” I comment, hugging the pillow.
I pick up a Polaroid of ours, staring at our happiness marked there. What am I doing?
I throw my head in my hands, lost. I wonder what might happen if I crawl into bed and don't go out for the rest of the month. Probably more people will hate me, but who doesn't hate me now? I mean, just get in line.
Awakened from the thought, when someone knocks on the door. For a second, I wonder who it was, then remember I ordered room service. I walk to the door, feeling the weight of the six small bottles.
My stomach churns and I feel an overwhelming urge to vomit as I land my eyes on the redhead in front of me. Red-haired?
"Bethany?"
17 notes · View notes
ophiexb · 3 years
Text
Way Down
Based off this post here 
@keitozwurld wanted Alex tucking Willie’s hair behind his ear, and @wlwcarries added some pretty amazing tags about it happening when the boys save Willie - So naturally I wrote it. 
-------------
The band is so focused on the fact there back, that the curse is lifted and everything’s going to be okay. Unfinished business aside and everything else doesn’t matter anymore because they're together and they get to play music, and that’s really all that matters right?
Luke and Julie launch into writing beautiful songs together, composing all kinds of fun and creative things that just blow each and every single one before out of the park using all those emotions and feelings from their ordeal to channel beautiful music. Reggie has taken up communicating with Carlos; after all the boy knows there around now so there’s no point in pretending and honestly? Reggie really likes him. He spends a lot of his time with the other Molina sibling working on who knows what-conspiracy theories and ideas of the ghost world?
Alex was just as glad as everyone else he wasn’t going to just suddenly move on, and suddenly lose everything after just getting something at least close to happiness. The band was back, the guys were happy, they’d get to make music and do what they always loved and always enjoyed...but Alex was alone a lot...more than a lot. He was pretty much always alone now-Luke occupied by Julie and Reggie by Ray(who still didn’t know about them) and Carlos. Alex just...wandered. Up and down the streets of LA until they needed him to play or practice. He’d show up for those couple hours enjoying the routine of drumming and being able to work through some stuff through those motions...only to find himself right back here in the end.
Willie was gone; likely because of the fact he helped them, or because Caleb lost them to Julie and he was taking it out on the poor skater...either way he was gone and it was Alex’s fault. They’d joked-you never forget your First Ghost, and all kinds of stuff that they thought was helpful. About focusing on music, and that he’ll meet other ghosts. But he didn’t want to meet other ghosts. Other Ghost didn’t call him Hot Dog, and hold his hand while trying to teach him to skate. They didn’t help him scream away the anxiety and...they didn’t make him feel whole.
Willie made Alex feel like he mattered and without it-he was left with that ache across his chest and no real purpose. Was he just to play drums? Always and forever? Alex didn’t know if he could do that-but being dead complicated things. He couldn’t….do much else. So he was left to just worry about Willie. To worry what happened to the long haired man who made Alex feel like he had purpose-if he was suffering. If he was hurting-oh god what he was hurting? Those painful jolts that he felt coming back to his mind. What if he was waiting for Alex to save him and all Alex was doing was aimlessly wandering around Los Angeles. If he hadn’t been so set on helping the guys get back at Trevor, if he hadn’t been so intent on answering all his anxiety filled questions-they could of just been happy. They could of skated through the city and run through closed places with no one to stop them. Willie could teach him about Justin Bieber and some of those other names he mentioned. Instead he was probably gone- and it was Alex’s fault. He was suffering and no longer free all because of them and-
“Alex!” The voice managed to make it through his thoughts, there were hands on him a lot of them and he felt himself dragged up against something warm. There were to many hands-his hands shifted by they were caught being held gently against his chest. “Alex!” The voice shouted again, it sounded so scared...why were they scared? Was...was it Willie calling for him?
Why couldn’t he move?
His focus shifted from the racing thoughts to the touch, the hands on him and the voices all around him. His panic and horrified thoughts slowly fading as he tried to figure out what was going on. It felt-everything felt tight and painful and like he couldn’t breath. But he was a ghost right? He didn’t need to breath-so what was going on? It felt like his chest was being squished slowly by an elephant-making it impossible to take in any air-and then it all clicked and he gasped. Arching against the body holding him with a cough.
He hadn’t had a panic attack this bad since 1994.
“Alex Alex please-“ The voice pleaded in his ear, it didn’t sound so scared anymore-it sounded like they were crying. Pleading with so much sorrow and Alex focused on that. On the whispered cries and pleas as the world slowly shifted into focus. Things returned slowly. One by one-
Julie was crouched over him, her dark eyes filled with tears as she kneeled close but her hands were to herself. She looked so scared and Alex wanted to ask her why, but her face lit up seeing him look at her. “Hey-Hey Alex…” She soothed his hands fumbled and gently she moved to grasp it tightly. The other one being caught and he turned to see Reggie-he had the same expression Julie did.
Which means the body behind him, rubbing over his chest and rocking him is Luke. Slowly the whispers come through, coaching him to breath and calm down. To slowly and gently bring him down from the peak he got lost him and slowly, and oh so slowly, he comes down. He’s breathing now, heavily and shakily but there coming in. The tightness eases up slowly and slightly. Unwinding from around his heart and lungs and he’s just spent, tears running down his cheek and his face burns with embarrassment.
“I wish I could get him some water.” Julie whispered playfully to the guys trying to lighten her own anxiety and racing heart over worry for the blonde, Reggie laughs sympathetically but Luke’s focus is all on Alex.
“You back?” He whispers softly when he feels all the muscles unclench in the other and Alex gives a weak nodd. Luke sinks into him with a sharp noise and squeezes Alex against him.
“W-What was that? Was that Caleb? I thought we fixed it…” Julie asked softly, panic creeping into her voice a bit that they’d still lose one of them. That she didn’t save them all. Alex’s breathing hitches at the name and he feels that panic creep back up into his skin and Luke shushes him softly, his hands in his hair.
“Breath. Breath Alex...I’ve got you I’m right here.” He coaches softly, Julie gets the hint the poor girl and doesn’t say anything, watching as Luke coaches the other down again before it can spiral. They don’t move, no one moves at all. Just gently touching over him rubbing over his hands, through his hair and finally Alex just feels exhausted. Like he can fall through the floor and never come back. Luke is solid behind him though keeping him from doing just that.
No one asks, no one says anything, unsure if moving will spark anything or change anything. Alex can’t find his voice right now and they don’t seem to mind. He’s not even sure how long passes, Reggies climbing up slowly staying in eyesight to turn on the radio before coming back. The silence being filled does it’s job to calm him more and he finally feels stable enough to curl more against Luke. The man simply adjusts his legs and pulls him tighter against him. He can tell their scared, there worried and he owes them answers.
“I’m sorry.” Is the first thing out of his mouth, it doesn’t even sound like him. Croaked out through sandpaper and glass and Luke shushes him softly.
“That was - that was a bad one.” Luke whispered finally, unable to help himself. His hands are still shaking at the image. They’d been playing, messing around and Reggie had just gotten back from the main house. He’d turned to ask Alex if he was ready to find the drummer curled against himself against the wall. He wasn’t making a noise, but he kept flickering and honesty it scared Luke in ways he hadn’t been scared before. Because before it had been all of them, all together but the idea of losing only Alex?. He wrapped around the other afraid he’d vanish and they’d never see him again if they didn’t, if he didn’t hold him like Luke was the thing keeping him here. He’d recognized what it was right away and there wasn’t anything more they could do. Nothing to bring him back around until he was ready.
“What happened?” Julie finally whispered, even her hands were shaking.
“It’s...sometimes he gets them. Panic attacks and stuff. He use to have an inhaler for it...and we had all kinds of techniques like salt, or breathing exercises...but now that…” Reggie gestured. “None of them would work the same…”
“I’m so sorry Alex…” Julie whispered her hands coming up to comb through his hair and he closed his eyes. “Do you want to talk about it or are you not ready?”
Alex didn’t feel like he’d ever be ready but the name was through his lips before he could stop himself. “Willie.” He forced out and it seemed like Reggie suddenly remembered as well. Luke tensing behind him a bit. “I haven’t seen him since-since he helped us play the show….I’m so worried-worried Caleb hurt him because of us. That something-that he needs our help but I don’t know how to save him without risking everything again.” He rambled that sharp tone coming and Luke pressed gently grounding him again.
“Well….maybe I can lift Willies curse the way I did yours?” Julie offered looking between the three ghosts. “Maybe I can save him to...I can set him free…”
“Jules…” Luke said softly. “We don’t even know if you can see him. You haven’t seen other ghosts until us yeah? If you can’t see him-who knows if you can hug him? As far as we know we’ve got connections to you….but he doesn’t.”
“He’s got Willie.” Julie said firmly. “And that’s enough to try right? We can’t just leave someone who saved you to suffer a horrible, dark death. You guys have me, and each other. He-he only has Alex.” She defended.
“But what are we going to do? Caleb won’t let him out if he does have him, and it’s not like we can go in to get him. And for all we know he’ll hurt you!” Luke protested.
“That’s not true.” Julie pointed out. “We got into the Orpheum.” She countered. “Something you also thought was impossible. You know where this club is right?” They nodded. “Then we just need to come up with a plan- and he’s a ghost what’s the worst he can do to me?”
“But Caleb says they move around a lot…” Reggie added. “That they play all over the world.”
“But Willie doesnt. He stays here.” Alex whispered. “We don’t know if all ghosts can travel the same way….”
“And it’s worth a shot-if we worry about the what if’s we’ll never help him.” Julie said firmly. “We’ve just got to come up with a plan to get into the club and find him…”
“Caleb...Has all this staff and crew. If someone were to sneak in he might not even notice.” Luke reasoned. “All these waitresses and waiters-but we won’t be able to just walk right in. He’s probably waiting for us-for Alex if anything.”
“Maybe that’s it!” Julie grinned, shifting to look at them. “Maybe we play into that. That he’s looking and waiting for Alex to come to Willie. It’ll lead us right to him and when we’ve got him boom-We set him free and run!” She gestured. “It’s not like he can curse you again! Your free from him.”
“We don’t know what else he’s capable of…” Reggie pointed out.
“I’ll do it.” Alex said firmly, sitting up slowly with Luke’s help. “I don’t care about the risks. Willie risked it all for us-we can do the same.” Julie beamed at him, slowly pulling him into a hug before they were getting to work. Alex had to play a part-and he was willing to do it if it meant freeing the other. Even if it meant risking everything again. He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t keep going and drumming. Being this ghost knowing the cost. Once Alex seemed sure and aware enough they started talking, discussing everything and all with Julie they could possibly think of.
They needed to do this right or they’d end up in a bigger mess than before. After all there was no beating Caleb. There was only saving Willie and hoping he’d back off or something-maybe. Either way there focus and goal was set and everything else could come later.
Turns out Caleb was waiting for them to make the first move he knew Alex would come for Willie and the moment they’d made contact he was there at the spot Alex had set. A dazzling display of elegance and not at all phased by the blonde all alone in front of him. “Oh goodness, Alexander have you changed your mind all alone? Where are your friends?”
“Where’s Willie?” Alex demanded, ignoring everything else. “I know you have him.” He hadn’t ever had so much confidence in his voice and even Caleb raised a brow at him.
“So rude-I asked a question….have you. Changed your mind?” He repeated. “After all Alexander I did tell you you could have everything and anything you desired if you joined...including Willie…”
“I want to see him first.” Alex said looking at him. Calebs eerily blue eyes and wide smile. He gestured and the air shifted Willie appearing next to him with a noise, his eyes going wide to see the blonde.
“Alex.” He couldn’t help but be shocked, he’d thought surely the other had crossed over but here he was. Completely unphased and before him. “Alex what are-“ Caleb was quick to silence him with those familiar shocks that made the other jerk.
“How do I know you won’t just kill him?” Alex asked softly looking at the other as his eyes widened looking up at him. He couldn’t…
“My promise means everything of course.” Caleb said simply. “Im never one to break a promise….“
“That’s not enough.” Alex said firmly. “I want him to be safe-to he free.” Calebs eyes widened a bit but he was quick to cover it.
“Why I think that’s more than a fair trade, I can always get another waiter.” He mocked. “So-do we have a deal.” He repeated his hand reaching out to Alex.
“Let me...let me say goodbye.” Alex whispered the tears coming now, and it only seemed to delight Caleb more. He seemed to agree because he let Willie rush over, the man’s arms wrapping around Alex’s.
“You can’t-you can’t do this Alex it’s not worth it! I’m not worth it!” He protested his voice was rough, tears in those beautiful doe eyes and Alex only smiled. A mantra of please work please work in his head.
“Hold on.” He whispered wrapping around the other tightly and in an instant they were in the studio. Willies eyes going wide as he jerked away, the shock running through his body with a gasp. “We don’t have much time Calebs going to know where I took you-I had. I had to get you out of there.” Alex whispered frantacilly. “I couldn’t leave you there to die by his hand not after everything you did for us.”
“Alex.” Willie whispered tearfully, but the blonde only wrapped around him squeezing tightly. “You idiot.” He couldn’t help it laughing as he held right back. His fingers digging into the other. “He’s going to kill us both don’t you get that? How-how did-“ He jolted again with a cry.
“I-Julie. Julie saved us and maybe. Maybe she can save you to?” He asked tearfully. Looking up at the dark haired girl sitting with Luke and Reggie, she climbed up and she was looking right at him.
She could see him.
She could see him!
“It’s nice to finally meet you...Can I?.” She said softly, her own eyes filled with tears as she gestured and they shifted to make room for her to be wrapped around the two of them. Pouring every emotion possible into it, her love for sweet, gentle Alex. The one who always made she was okay and checked on her, and this poor soul who’d been tortured and abused by this man who tried to take her boys from her. How she just wanted to save him to how she wanted to save all of them and she felt that warmth and sensation as if the other was solid under her hands in the same way.
Willie jerked his eyes wide looking between the two. “You-how?”
“Honestly we have no idea but we’re not going to question it too much.” Luke joked softly, his own eyes wet at the thought that they did it. They saved him, they saved another from Caleb. Julie stepped away her hands touching the two of them but slowly moving to give them space. Overwhelmed she’d managed to save another from Caleb, it had to mean something right?
Willie looked at Alex, his face breaking out into an impossible smile as he tossed himself at the blonde again the two almost rocking as they squeezed one another. Sure, they were both ghosts. They were both dead-but they weren’t cursed anymore. They weren’t trapped and tied to this fate-and they were together.
They slowly pulled back but the hands and arms still twined together. Willies hair falling around his face and Alex gently reached to push it back behind his ear to see his face properly, that brilliant smile across his innocent face and Willie was almost speechless. “You...you really came. You came to save me.” He couldn’t believe it.
Alex could only smile through his own tears and emotions. “I told you I’d follow you.” He joked roughly, and Willie pulled him close again, only this time his hand found the back of the blondes hair, pulling him close so their lips could meet.
They’d have forever now.
44 notes · View notes
jedimordsith · 3 years
Note
So uhhh. You gonna finish your Visions of the Future series? Pretty please? 🥺
I absolutely WILL finish my VotF series!! I've got a good chunk of Katana written already and outlines for the rest. I got a little derailed getting DBW posted and then Sedo ate my brain BUT I haven't forgotten about VotF or lost my love for it!
I'm taking a partial hiatus for a bit this summer as RL demands will limit my fic time, but I'll try to post updates about what fic is coming and when once I dig back in.
In the meantime, here's a sneak peek from Katana Ch 3! <3
Luke caught Mara’s hand as they exited the lift and walked toward their rooms. They hadn’t spoken in the lift, the weight of their upcoming separation suddenly real and pressing. Part of him — the responsible part — was grateful Mara would be staying behind on Coruscant. She’d be safer with Karrde’s people than with him, and Force knew she badly needed time to regroup after the trauma and mayhem of the last few weeks.
But he’d only just gotten her, and the idea of being alone again — even temporarily — of leaving her safety and care in the hands of others while things were still so new and fragile felt perilous and raw. He wanted to do something, anything to lessen the sensation.
When they reached Mara’s door, Luke followed her in and impulsively demanded, “give me your comm.”
Curiosity flickered across her face but Mara complied, handing over the device. Taking it, Luke programmed in a series of numbers.
“What are you doing?”
“Making myself feel better,” he answered as his thumbs flew over the device. “I’m putting in comm codes — mine, and a direct line to Artoo. Han and Leia’s place, too. And Iella’s Wessiri-Antilles’ office.” Handing the comm back, he pulled a piece of flimsi and a stylus from the table beside the suite’s door and scrawled out three codes in blocky script. Turning around, he folded it and held it out. “These are my codes. The first two are to get into my wing of the Palace residences and my apartment. The third is my security clearance as the New Republic’s only Jedi.”
Mara stared at him, then hesitantly extended her hand to accept the flimsi. “Why are you giving me this?”
“Because I don’t want to leave you.” Luke stepped in close and ran the backs of his fingers over the soft skin of her cheek. Mara’s eyes fell shut at the touch and his heart squeezed. “I know Karrde’s people will protect you, he said, sliding one arm around her and pressing his lips to her forehead. “And you’re not helpless — you can take care of yourself. But it’s a risk, being mine, I know that.” Luke closed his eyes against the memory of the ranks of loved ones who’d died because of him, directly or indirectly. “If I can’t be with you myself,” he finished thickly, “I can at least leave you everything I have that might help you stay safe. If — if anything happens, call Iella. Give her my codes and tell her you’re under my protection. You can trust her.”
Mara’s arms wrapped around him and she pressed her forehead into his chest. “Come back,” she demanded roughly, her hands fisting in the back of his tunic.
Minion rumbled on her shoulder, and Luke knew enough by now to recognize the sign that Mara’s feelings ran far deeper than she was trying to let on. Impulsively, he clucked his tongue at Minion and lifted the little lizard from Mara’s shoulder. The lizard squawked indignantly but let him place it on the stand beside the door.
The instant Luke pulled his hand away, awareness of Mara’s stormy sense hit him like a sucker-punch to the head. There was a ragged, gaping wound in her silvery sense. Jumbled images and feelings gushed out of it, splattering over him like blood. Luke’s throat constricted with remembered terror that wasn’t his, and cold swept over him.
Alone, alone, donttouchme, stopstopithurts, blackness — so much blackness. Grit and cold and screams — they never stopped screaming. I was good Iwasgood why did you leave me? I hate you comebackcomebackcomeback.
Luke’s fingers clenched, digging into flesh — no, not flesh. Metal.
Celestial winds whipped around him, stinging his chapped and bleeding skin, icy and battering as he hung beneath the city. Ben, Ben help me please! The winds tore his words away, flung them into the vortex. Ben would not come. No one would come. He would die here alone, a failure, his body lost, his soul lost, he’d wander forever in the empty swirling gases — a new sound… a thin, reedy cry threading through the winds. A screech —
Everything cut out. Tiny claws dugs into Luke’s shoulder through his tunic and his knees buckled.
Minion. The little lizard squalled his displeasure and then the claws were gone. Pain nipped at his fingertips and Luke jerked his hands back. They felt numb and clumsy, and it was only when he let go that he realized he’d been gripping something. His stomach plunged and he blinked rapidly, willing his vision to clear even as he realized he was shaking.
Movement. The Force rolled back in and with it the ability to clear his head. Digging the heels of his hands into his eyes, Luke pulled on the Force desperately. Calm and light poured in. It grounded him in comforting surety, but couldn’t completely chase away the queasy, shock-y affect effects of falling that deeply down the hole of old trauma.
Dropping his hands, Luke wrenching his eyes open and blinked them clear. His vision resolved on Mara and an entirely different sick feeling slid like a blade between his ribs. She was on her knees, curled forward into a ball, her looped braids falling forward across her cheeks, her hands wrapped around her upper arms. Minion had latched his claws into the front of her tunic and wedged his small body under her jaw, his purple tongue flicking at her skin frantically.
Shavit. “Mara.” His voice came out rough and she flinched. The blade in his chest twisted.
Luke crawled the two steps between them and half-sat, half-collapsed behind her. Dropping back onto his butt, he pulled Mara to him. Her shoulder pressed against his chest and he tucked her head under his chin as he propped one leg up so that his knee could brace her back and dropped the other, tucking it so his foot locked against her rear. Wrapping his arms around her, he fully enclosed her in his embrace and began to rock slightly.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her hair over and over in anxious, guilty kisses. “I’m sorry, Sweetheart. I didn’t know that would happen. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“What…?” Mara’s voice cracked and she couldn’t finish the question.
“A feedback loop,” Luke answered anyway, his eyes squeezing shut. His voice sounded strange around the low, buzzing hum ringing in his ears. “Your… war sickness triggering mine. Creating a cycle across the bond. It happened to Leia and I once. After Bespin. Before I knew we were twins. I didn’t realize…” He shook his head, her hair soft against his cheek. “I thought I could help. Through the bond. But it’s… different from anything else I’ve seen. I never imagined —”
“‘s fine.” Mara turned her head, pressing her face into his tunic. “Just — just come back. You and Talon. Promise me.”
20 notes · View notes
ladyvader23 · 4 years
Text
Darth Vader, Master Hairstylist
This was inspired by @scuddington ‘s post HERE. I absolutely love Scud’s art, and this one just instantly inspired me! 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The first time Vader learned how important hair was to little children was the day Miss Laena took PTO in the morning for an important doctors appointment. 
He figured he had this. It was just one morning. No big deal. The only difference was that this morning, he’d be the one getting the kids ready for school. That wasn’t hard. He was Darth Vader, Sith, destroyer of Jedi and Rebels alike, Commander of the Imperial Navy! He could handle school. 
He scheduled his own meetings around the conflict, he’d warned the twins repeatedly that he needed them to cooperate, he’d made sure the night before that all was prepared. Bags, lunches, homework. 
Too easy. Maybe he’d reconsider Miss Laena’s salary. 
And the morning did begin smoothly. Until Leia came running to him with a brush in her hand. 
“I gotta be pretty daddy!” She shoved the brush towards him. “Do my hair!” 
Vader froze. He...knew nothing about hair. He knew his wife had been excellent at it. When had she begun to be interested in how she did her hair? He tried to think back, but he couldn’t remember a single time he’d seen her in public without perfectly styled tresses. 
“You are a child. You do not need me to do your hair. Just brush it.” 
That of course, offended Leia. She pouted and glared. “I’m a big girl daddy, and big girls have pretty hair!” 
She literally forced the brush into his hand. 
Well. He’d mastered the Force. How hard could hair be? 
Famous last words. 
First, he was apparently not gentle enough. He tried to comb the tangles that she’d acquired overnight, and each time he did she began screaming “OW!” and crying. Horrified, he decided to instead hide the tangles and figure them out later. He pulled her hair into what resembled a ponytail and stepped back. “There. Now you will be late for school. Let us leave.” 
The hair wasn’t...exactly like it should be. It was crooked, and he wasn’t sure it was tight enough to stay in, but he didn’t want to hurt her further. And he was pretty sure she didn’t want him to try again, because she didn’t argue. 
He forgot about the incident shortly after the kids were dropped off. Miss Laena came back shortly before the end of school. He was in their home’s personal conference room, doing assignments from home, when he heard the front door open and the telltale sound of children running through the home. 
Miss Laena will take care of it. He thought, focusing back on his work…
Until he realized Leia was crying. 
He hated it when she cried. Luke, he could deal with. But Leia? Absolutely not. 
Shoving the datapad aside, he went to investigate. 
“I’m ugly!” She was wailing when he entered the kitchen. Mis Laena was trying to comb Leia’s hair and having a hard time with it. “I’m ugly!!!” 
“Who told you a ridiculous lie like that?!” Vader thundered. Leia was the image of his beloved wife. Both of them were more beautiful than all the stars of the galaxy. 
But to his surprise, Leia wailed harder. “Everyone! My hair was ugly!!!” 
“Your hair does not reflect how beautiful you are. Hair changes daily.” 
Miss Laena winced. “Lord Vader...many children want to feel pretty when they go see their friends at school.” 
“Leia is beautiful already. I do not see what the problem is.” 
“...She is beautiful, but she may not feel that way when she doesn’t like her hair...and other kids might say something if it looks...different.” 
“She is five.” 
“Even five year olds want to feel pretty.” 
Vader thought it was silly. Leia could have no hair and he’d find her just as perfect as she was with it. But judging on Leia’s reaction, she very much cared about how her hair looked. 
It was something her mother should have done. Had she lived, he had no doubt Leia would never have a bad day...or even Luke for that matter (sometimes that boy needed to run a comb through his hair, if Vader was being honest with himself). 
But Padme...was not there. And it was his fault for that. 
So it was up to him to fix it. 
First, he ordered practice manikin heads, the kind hairdressers used to practice. Then, he found online tutorials on the holonet. He watched them carefully, paying close attention to the stylists finger and brush movements. It was not unlike studying lightsaber technique. Both had a certain art to it. 
He just needed to master it. 
The first many attempts didn’t work as planned. Part of it was due to his cybernetics. They were...not made for the delicacy it took to style hair. The first few manikin heads ended up either with hair ripped out, or he’d grow so frustrated when he couldn’t get a braid right, that he’d throw the manakin off the balcony, where it fell into the lower levels of Coruscant below. 
But he was determined. He would not fail in this task. He would not be so reliant on Miss Laena that he would ruin his daughter's day again like that. 
He would be the master hairstylist. 
It took months (and countless manikin heads) to get things to where he felt he could confidently and safely try working on Leia’s hair. 
One morning, before school, he interrupted Miss Laena as she was about to help Leia get ready for school. “I have no need of your services when it comes to Leia.” He informed her confidently. “I will handle it from here.” 
He did not miss the concern that flashed through the other woman, but she wisely did not say anything. “As you wish, My Lord.” 
He entered Leia’s room. She was already dressed, though her hair, thankfully, was still a mess. “Where’s Miss Laena?” She asked, frowning when he was the only one there. 
“I am here to fix your hair problem.” He announced confidently, spotting the brush and summoning it to his hand. 
Leia did not hide her nervousness. “No, that’s okay daddy, I...I can have ugly hair today.” 
“No. You will sit down and allow me to help you.”
“No--”
“If you do not let me help you, I will ground you from your dolls.” It was an unfair threat and he knew it...but he was a Sith. He’d spent an unsithly amount of time mastering the ways of the hairdresser. He was not about to let Leia stop him now. 
Leia pouted, but sat down. “Be nice to my hair, daddy.” She warned as he approached, and he felt her genuine fear. 
Carefully, he placed a hand on top of her head and smoothed her hair down in what he hoped was a soothing gesture...and began. 
He first worked out the tangles. Carefully, in a way he knew wouldn’t hurt her. Once all the tangles were gone, he began to braid. 
The trick, he found, was not to completely rely on his metal fingers. Doing so would result in failure. The trick was to use the Force for anything that was too delicate and precarious for his clumsy hands. With a mixture of the Force and his own now well-practiced hands, he managed to braid her hair into a crown. 
He stepped back, satisfied. “You look like a princess.” He told her, and he meant it. It was hair that would make any royal princess jealous. He was fairly certain that Padme would have been quite proud of him had she seen it. 
Leia looked in the mirror...and smiled. “Wow, daddy! You got good!”
“For you, my princess...though don’t tell anyone I did it.” 
Having redeemed himself, he could have stopped there. He’d mastered enough to impress any five year old. 
But he didn’t stop there. 
Leia soon decided that she’d rather have him do her hair than Miss Laena (something he was secretly pleased about, though he’d never admit it). As she grew, so too did her tastes in hair. Occasionally, she’d be interested in a style he didn’t know how to do. But if she showed him what she wanted, he’d spend what little off time he had trying to figure it out. Once he’d mastered it, he’d try it out on her. Usually he was successful. 
Soon, he began to savor the moments when it was just him and her. She’d sit on the chair, swinging her legs happily while he worked on her hair. Sometimes it felt like they didn’t share as many interests, but when he did her hair, it seemed like it was their own “thing.” It was unsithly, and his Master would absolutely have a heart attack if he ever found out, but he didn’t care. 
Soon though, as Leia grew into a teenager, she began to need him less and less. But instead, their time together was replaced by him teaching her how to do her own hair. He’d always dreamed of teaching his children the ways of the Force, but with Sidious suspicious of that ever happening, he knew this would probably be the closest thing he could get for Leia. 
For now. 
One day, as Leia finished braiding her hair so that it looked like a blooming flower for a Imperial youth party, she paused. “You know. I’ve never told anyone you learned how to do hair.” She said. 
“That is wise.” He tried not to think of what the media would say if they ever found out Darth Vader knew almost as much about hair as any professional hairstylist. 
“Why? I mean. You’re...you.” 
He looked at her for a long moment. She’d grown to be so beautiful, exactly like her mother. And he decided to be honest. 
“Because your mother was not here to do it for you.” He replied. “I did not want you to miss out on that experience.” 
Leia turned, taking him in for a moment. Then, with a smile, she reached out and gave him a rare hug. 
He...allowed it. This time. 
“Thanks dad.” She said. “You’re the best. I don’t care what anyone else says.” 
He didn’t understand how him being good at hair made him the best…
But he’d accept it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I accept PROMPTS for this or any SW AU! 
202 notes · View notes
somesuperherowrites · 3 years
Text
To the Rescue
request: Will you do a Luke Alvez x Reader Drabble where you’re taken by an Unsub and he just barely rescues you and it’s all fluff and all love and all goodness!
a/n: part 2 will contain the fluff !
....
Luke paced around the bullpen anxiously. You weren’t answering any of his texts or calls. Normally, this wouldn’t worry him. He knew you usually took a while to respond, but right now the team had just gotten a case in D.C. and the unsub’s type fit you exactly. When he had seen the pictures of the unsub’s victims, it felt like he had been drenched in ice water. They could have been your mirror image.
He nervously dialed your number again and put the phone up to his ear, “c’mon, c’mon Y/N. Please pick up.”
“Hey, this is Y/N! Leave a message and I’ll call you back.” Your bubbly voice resounded in his ear. Luke quietly cursed to himself. He was going to have to ask Garcia to ping your phone.
Luke practically ran to where Garcia was sitting with Emily in the conference room. “Hey, uh, Garcia. I need you to ping Y/N’s phone for me please.”
Penelope quirked her eyebrow questioningly, but began typing on her tablet.
Emily looked at him concerned, “Luke, what’s wrong?”
“Y/N fits the unsub’s type and I can’t get her on the phone. Oh god... what if he has her Emily.” He was very quickly breaking down and he knew that, but the thought of a serial killer kidnapping you was enough to make him panic.
Emily nodded, “Garcia, did you find anything?”
Garcia stared at her tablet, “Yeah, her phone last pinged right outside your apartment complex. But that was three hours ago.”
“Penelope! Where is she now?” Luke took a shuddering breath. He had to remain rational. Maybe you had turned your phone off for some reason once you were in the apartment.
Please. Please. Please. Be in the apartment Y/N.
“Here is the video footage from the camera near where her phone was last pinged.” Garcia pressed play and the three of them watched as you walked down the sidewalk.
Luke’s breath hitched in his throat as he saw a man approach you and start talking. No alarms bells appeared to be going off in your head. You seemed calm. You pointed down the street and the man nodded his head. As soon as you turned your back, the man forced a cloth over your mouth.
“Oh my god.” Penelope breathed out. They were watching your abduction.
Luke watched as you resisted at first then quickly surrendered to the drugs. Your limp body was then thrown into a nearby van. The whole interaction had take 2 minutes.
“Damn it!” Luke tightened his hand into a first and punched the table. He tightly closed his eyes with his fist resting on the table. Truth be told, it was the only thing keeping him from falling over right now. God, this couldn’t be happening.
“Penelope, track that van and run facial rec. I’m going to get the team.” Emily commanded as she stood up.
She walked over and placed a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “We’re going to get her back Luke.”
Luke bit his lip. He wasn’t one to cry in front of others, but right now, he was fighting like hell to not break down sobbing in the conference room. He pushed himself up off the table. There was only one thought running through his mind now - he had to get you back.
....
You groggily shook your head. Where were you?
You winced as the memories came flooding back to you. Shit. Someone had kidnapped you. Panic began to overtake you and you struggled against the restraints that we hanging you from the ceiling.
How could you have been so stupid. You had pepper spray and you hadn’t even used it. Luke would be so disappointed that you hadn’t fought back hard enough. Luke.
You took a deep breath to keep from crying. Luke was going to find you. You had to believe that.
Footsteps sounded from the hallway near where you were being held. Your eyes widened. Oh god, he was probably a serial killer. You couldn’t survive this. Luke was the tough one in your relationship. He was strong and good and could handle all the bad that the world had to offer. You couldn’t.
He was going to save you. Luke was coming for you.
You pulled against your restraints as hard as you could as a man appeared in front of you with a knife. You cried as you felt him press the cool metal of the blade against your throat.
His breath fanned your face and he smiled, “I’m gonna have fun with you.”
....
Luke paced the floor and exhaustedly ran his hands through his hair. “What are we missing? We have to be missing something,” he demanded looking around to the team members who were tirelessly working in the bullpen.
“Luke,” Emily started gently, “it’s been 3 days. You haven’t left and you’ve barely slept. You need a break.”
Luke scoffed, “do you think she’s gotten a break from the unrelenting hell this unsub is no doubt putting her through?” Heavy silence met his rhetorical question.
“Yeah, me neither. Emily we’re running out of time. He keeps them for 4 days at most. He tortures them, brands them, then dumps their body; and I.. I can’t -“ his voice broke.
Emily stepped towards him and looked him in the eye, “Luke, we can’t think like that. Okay? We’re missing something. You’ve studied this case more than anyone. What are we missing?”
Luke stared at the board in response. What was he missing?
“Hey Spencer!” he began putting together the dots of thoughts in his mind.
Spencer looked up from where he was sitting at his desk, “yeah?”
“Do you have that geological profile?” Spencer nodded and held the map up, which Luke snatched out of his hand.
Luke slammed the paper on the table, “there it is! the letters are of the streets the bodies were found are spelling out my name. Atlantic Street, Lawrence Avenue, Victor Street, East Capital. There’s no Z because that’s where he has her.”
Prentiss’ eyes widened. “Spencer, what street names in D.C. start with a Z?”
Spencer racked his brain, “There’s only one. It’s called Zei Alley. It’s two minutes away from the White House. Do we think he’s that bold?”
“No, I think he’s that stupid.” Luke grabbed the keys from his desk and paused when no one was moving. “Let’s go! He kills them at that location on the 4th day. She doesn’t have that much time.”
Prentiss nodded, “you heard the man. let’s go save Y/N.”
....
Your body was on fire. Anytime you moved, you felt the sharp sting of the cuts that littered your body. Luckily, he hadn’t cut too deeply. Unluckily, everything he did seemed to be because he wanted to cause you maximum pain.
You tried to lift yourself up on the top of your tip toes to give your arms some much needed relief. Being shackled from the ceiling was torture in itself.
You felt tears fall freely from your face as you heard footsteps coming toward you. You closed your eyes in dread. You knew what was coming, and you couldn’t take anymore.
“Please, please stop,” you sobbed.
“Shhh. It’ll all be over soon.” He grunted as he lifted your body against his so that he could undo your chains. He let your arms fall unceremoniously to your sides.
You screamed at the blinding pain that was taking over you. If you thought your arms had hurt before, boy were you wrong.
Your captor sneered at you, “Oh, shut up.”
He placed some a damp cloth against your mouth, and you welcomed the sweet darkness that it brought with it.
...
It wasn’t long before the team arrived at the location that the ubsub was going to bring you to. There was no sign of you yet, but everyone was waiting undercover and ready to jump in the second they saw you.
After 2 hours of waiting, a white van pulled up by Zei alley.
Luke immediately brought the team’s attention to this new development. “Guys, I’ve got a white van by the alley.”
Emily looked over the newspaper that she was holding as she sat on a bench. “I’ve got eyes on the van.”
They watched as the driver got out and approached the passenger side. He pulled the passenger out and help them up.
“Passenger looks unconscious. This is definitely our guy. Move in.” Prentiss commanded.
As the unsub shuffled you into the alley, he was surrounded. He held your body close to his and used you as a shield for protection.
Luke’s breath caught in his throat. You weren’t even awake. You couldn’t fight back. He wanted to scream in anger - how was this fair?
Luke licked his lips as he was thinking and his eyes darted between you and the unsub. “Okay, I’m going to put my gun away, and they’re going to back up, okay?” Luke slowly placed his weapon in its holster.
The unsub tightened his grip around you and shoved the knife deeper into your throat, so droplets of blood were now appearing on your skin.
“Hey, hey, look. You want me, right? That’s why you were spelling out Alvez, huh? Now take me instead of her okay?” At this point Luke was practically begging, but he didn’t care.
“You don’t want it to go down like this, okay man? You don’t wanna do this,” Luke pleaded.
The unsub was seemingly persuaded and loosened his grip on you for a second. A look of hatred flashed in his eyes. “You’re wrong,” he snarled and plunged the knife into your side.
....
You were trying so hard to open your eyes. Something was going on, but you couldn’t open your eyes. You thought you heard Luke’s voice faintly come in and out of focus. “down....don’t wanna..”
Was Luke coming to save you?
You suddenly felt a searing pain in your side and immediately screamed Luke’s name.
Gunshots sounded and you fell to the ground with the unsub. Everything was hazy and pain was consuming all your senses, but you knew without a shadow of a doubt when someone picked you up that it was Luke.
Your eyes kept fluttering open. Trying to stay conscious to see Luke was hard.
“Hey, hey, hey. I need you to stay awake for me Y/N. Can you do that?” Luke pleaded with you. His voice was like crystal water washing over you. So refreshing. Just what you wanted and exactly what you needed.
Even though you were pretty sure you were bleeding out, his voice was enough to make you quirk the side of your mouth into a slight smile. You knew you couldn’t talk, but you kept your eyes open long enough to meet Luke’s concerned gaze for a second before finally falling unconscious.
“No. No. Don’t do this Y/N.” He grabbed your face in his hands. “Come on. Please...” Tears were freely falling from his eyes and he desperately held pressure to your wound while begging you, pleading with you to stay with him.
In a second, medics ripped you from his arms and began applying pressure to your stab wound. They rushed to place you on the gurney and into the ambulance. Luke blindly followed them, unwilling to be apart from you for even a second.
94 notes · View notes
littleoddwriter · 3 years
Text
Hurt | Roman Sionis x Male!Reader
This is a purely self-indulgent (and kinda vent-y) Hurt/Comfort fic with my fave comic book Roman version (Red Hood and the Outlaws Rebirth). If anyone should end up reading this, I do hope you enjoy this! Also, uh, reader has BPD in this and the TW’s should say it all, so be cautious when reading, please!
summary; Red Hood makes a snide remark that leaves you overwhelmed with negative emotions. Roman ends up comforting you, after Red Hood inquires about your relationship with him. 
notes; TW // BPD episodes; Intrusive Thoughts; Self-Harm (implicit; punching oneself; also attempted self-harm); Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Blackmailing, and a non-con relationship (FALSE accusations); Red Hood handles reader a little roughly at one point; Daddy!Kink. Male!Reader; Emotional Hurt/Comfort; Hugs; Sitting on one’s lap.
Tumblr media
"Look, Roman, I don't mind your whole BDSM theme you've got going on. It fits you. But this seems to go a little far, even for you. I mean, this is breakfast, right?" Red Hood said, ever sounding so dry and sarcastic, sitting at the other end of the table opposite from you and Roman. You lowered your head in shame, as your face burned with it, your heart clenched painfully and your hands balled into fists, bunching the fabric of your pants, as you started trembling. Roman's arm tightened around your middle. You sat on his lap, as he fed you forks full of food alternating between you and himself. Having woken up feeling bad, this was routine for such mornings. It grounded you, made you feel a little calmer and had you feeling less like you wanted to rip your own skin off. "I'm sorry. I'm embarrassing you," you whispered quietly, so only Roman could hear it. He squeezed you where he held you around your waist and spoke just as quietly, "Not at all, sweetheart." Black Mask encouraged you to lean back into him with a nudge. Your back rested against his chest and stomach, as your head was supported by his shoulder. Turning your head to the side, your nose pressed against his neck. The smell of his leather mask and perfume all too familiar and soothing to you. You inhaled, a quiet and content sigh left your lips, as you relaxed a little. "Now, now, Red. I don't see why this should be any of your business, hm? This is my home after all. I own everything and everyone in here. Therefore I can do as I please, wouldn't you agree?" Roman said finally, tilting his head a little, looking as inquiring as he sounded. "Sure, sure. Still, it's just... weird. No offense." A dry chuckle left Black Mask's mouth as he shook his head slightly and tightened his grip around you, sure to leave a bruise by now. That was that then. You knew Roman had plans for Red Hood, so he probably held himself back here because of it. Usually he would have shot the person uttering such things as soon as those words had left their mouth. You were glad he hasn't done it this time, as you didn't fancy having someone's blood on your hands. After a couple of minutes of charged silence, in which the three of you finished eating your breakfast, Roman squeezed your waist once more. You lifted your head and sat up properly. "I need to talk some business with Red, here. You can go and do whatever you like, as always, alright, baby?" You nodded and gave a quick, uncertain glance over to Red Hood before turning your head and leaning into Roman. Then you pressed your lips against the cold metal zipper of his mask, which he's closed back up seconds before. Black Mask hummed approvingly in the back of his throat and nudged his masked face against yours in mock of a kiss back. Then you leaned back again and slid off his lap. You waved good-bye and then left the room. As soon as you were alone, the crushing feelings from before came back in a rush. The shame, the guilt, the anxiety, the anger. It was so much. Too much. Promptly, you started trembling again. Your skin felt tight, you wanted to rip it off, scream, cry and disappear. You had embarrassed Roman. Red Hood probably couldn't take him seriously because of you. Just because you're so fucking pathetic that you needed to be sat on his lap and be fed. Fuck! Intrusive thoughts of hurting yourself came over you, such as the urge; and fuck, it was so strong. It hasn't been this strong in at least two weeks. A long time for you. You didn't want to do it, though. You didn't want to give in. Walking around the penthouse and trying to find something to do that would take your mind off things, the urge only became stronger. It loomed over you, suffocated you. It was so tempting. You just wanted to get rid of those feelings. You just wanted them gone so badly. Various images of how you could do it popped up, your mind's eye forced to take them in. It was an itch you desperately tried not to scratch. After an hour of having done skills and tried to get rid of the feelings through some exercise and such, you were still trembling with the urge and overwhelming tightness of the suffocating emotions. You figured that perhaps Roman was done with talking by then, so you went back to the dining room where you have left him. "Hey, Luke, is Roman still busy talking in there?" You asked one of the masked goons standing outside the door. Your voice sounded tight, restrained, and yet so very dull. All those emotions that still tried to claw their way out of you were held back by you by sheer force. "Yeah, he is. What d'ya need him for? I'm sure the boss doesn't mind if ya interrupt him if it's important." "Fuck," you muttered. "No, no thank you. I really don't wanna interrupt him," you then said louder, so Luke could hear you. He nodded and you turned to go back to your room. A while later, you were sitting in the hallway that housed Roman's family portrait. You sat on the floor in front of it, a sketch book in your lap and a pencil and eraser in your hands. Your ears twitched when an unfamiliar footfall came closer to you. When you looked up, you saw it was Red Hood. Immediately panic gripped on to your heart, squeezing it tightly, and surrounded your lungs, making it hard to breathe. Red Hood was looking from side to side before crouching down in front of you. "What are you doing here?" He asked, confusing you. "Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?" "No, I meant here, as in, with Black Mask. Is he forcing you? Blackmailing you? Look, if he's got something on you, I can help you." Your face twisted with both confusion and anger. The panic hasn't subsided, but it made a little way for anger and hurt. "Excuse me? Do you- Who do you think you are? Why do you think you have any place to make such horrendous assumptions?" "He's a bad man and you know it. I'm sure you're not unaware to his 'business', right? It's not too far-fetched that he might have gotten a little too lonely and... y'know?" "What the fuck? Listen, Red, I don't give a fuck who you are or who you aren't. I don't give a fuck that you clearly don't know shit about what you're saying, so just leave me alone, will you?" Instead of leaving you alone, he gripped your arm and pulled it towards himself. "I'm not stupid, I've seen the bruises on you-" You snapped. "Shut up! Shut the fuck up! Shut up, shut up, shut up! You don't know anything! Shut the fuck up!" You shouted, pulling your arm free from him, as he loosened his grip in surprise. Your vision was blurry and red, tears burned your eyes, you were in so much pain all over again. You had just managed to get rid of it. Not without visible bruises on your arms. The bruises Red Hood mistook for abuse marks from Black Mask. It made you feel sick. You took the pencil from the ground where it had fallen onto, after you had jumped up when you had pulled your arm free. Close to stabbing it in your arm, someone embraced you from behind, one arm went around your waist and held you tightly against their chest, pressing their body against your back; and gripped tightly on to your wrist of which hand you held the pencil with. The soothing and familiar smell of leather and his perfume hit you. Roman. You trembled with the panic, the overwhelming emotions and the urge to follow through with what you've almost had just a moment ago. "Ssshhhh, sweetheart, ssshhh," Roman cooed, shushing you quietly. A whimper left your lips as you let go of the pencil. The noise it made when it hit the floor was crushingly loud in your ears.   "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you repeated over and over again, whimpering and sniveling. Roman continued to shush you quietly, lowered your arm to your side and turned you around, so you could bury your face in the crook of his neck. He wrapped his arms around you tightly and stroked over your back soothingly. "Leave now," he commanded Red Hood, whose quick footsteps you could hear fading away. "Oh, sweetheart, my darling boy. What did he say? What happened, huh?" Your sobs had died down by that point and while it took you a great amount of effort to be able to reply, you did. "He thought you were forcing me to be with you. That you were abusing me b-because of my-my bruises. I'm sorry. I've already embarrassed you at breakfast and now I did it again, I'm sorry, Daddy, I'm so sorry!" "Not at all, sweet boy. You haven't embarrassed me at all. Calm down, eh? It's alright. If anything, he was trying to get a rise out of me at breakfast. That's just how he is. I'll talk to him about this, later, hm? If I didn't have plans for him, he'd already be dead anyway." You nodded against his neck and the grip your hands had on his back tightened. As so very often, you couldn't possibly fathom why he put up with you at all, why he took his time to calm you down and reassure you. He could very well be the worst of the worst, like he was to so many other people; yet he seemed to have the patience and understanding of a Saint with you. It had your mind reeling. "Now, my sweet boy, I know you hate when I ask, but have you hurt yourself before this, today?" Roman asked eventually, his voice a gentle rumble. Once more, you nodded against his neck, inhaling sharply. "I'm sorry," you added quietly. "Why didn't you come to me, hm? I assume it was because of what happened at breakfast. Am I wrong?" "You're not, I'm sorry. I didn't want to interfere. And I didn't want to do it either, I tried not to, I promise. I did everything I could, but I just- broke." "Alright, sweetheart. It's okay. Though, am I remembering this incorrectly or have I really not told you that you could interrupt me and ask for help whenever?" "You've told me, I'm sorry, I know. I didn't want to... embarrass you any further, is all. I'm sorry, Daddy." He loosened his hold around your waist and leaned back, so he could look at you. Reluctantly, you faced him.  He let go of you with one arm completely and took ahold of your arm where you've injured yourself a few hours before. A big, blue and purplish bruise had formed already, taking up most of the space of your inner forearm. Ashamed, you averted your eyes. You should have just gotten him to help you. Then Black Mask lifted your arm to his face, as you felt the cold metal of his zipper press against the bruise. The pressure on it hurt, but it wasn't unbearable or truly painful in a way where you'd want it to stop. In actuality, the mock kiss made you feel warm inside. A small smile stole itself on your face.   You sighed as the warm leather of his mask gently pressed against your arm, as he turned his head to face you. "Will you promise me to get me the next time?" You could feel his jaw move against your arm as he talked, it tickled. "I promise," you whispered, in awe. He lowered your arm again and nudged his masked face against yours, the zipper pressing against your lips. You kissed it. Then again. And again. "I love you, Daddy. I'm really sorry about this whole mess, I didn't mean for any of this to happen." He sighed, "It's alright, sweetheart. I know you haven't done any of this on purpose." Then he let go of you entirely and bent down, picking up your sketchbook from the floor and looked it over. "You drew me," he stated, surprise clear in his voice. "Yeah, I needed to calm down after- well, you know. And I couldn't think of anything else to do, but sitting down and drawing." "And the best thing to draw was me as a child? Taking this horrendous portrait as reference no less. Although, you actually managed to make me look like a child." "Well, uh, I just thought I'd try myself on it, you know? Make it look less gloomy. Well. You. Not that I'd draw your fucking parents. They don't deserve it," you chuckled wryly by the end of it. "They really don't. It looks good, sweetheart. Will you finish it?" You looked at him in surprise, mouth a little slack. "I can try." "Good. I would like to hang it up, when you have." That surprised you even more. "Are you sure?" He just looked at you, and though his face - or rather, what was left of it - wasn't visible, you knew he was shooting you an incredulous look. "Right, okay. Sure, I will try my best, Roman!" "You always do, my boy." He gently placed the sketchbook back on the floor and put his arms around you once more. "Let's go for a walk then, eh? I feel like it might be good for you, after everything." Nodding, you smiled at him softly, leaning up to press another few kisses to the zipped up mouth of his mask. 
100 notes · View notes
Note
Can you do the baby thing with the undateables? With Luke as MC and Simeons son, please?
Of course! I actually was gonna do them but i took up so much time qwq  Same thing as before, If you want to re-image the baby being different like being the opposite gender or not being twins/triplets or single, it’s fine! it’s all about Imagination ^^
The Un Dateables when MC has their Baby(ies)
Diavolo
-He’s sad he’s not allowed in the room with you while you’re giving birth, he wanted to see what the process was like  -When he heard your screams, he got worried  -Lucifer and Satan both tried to calm him down and from breaking the door as well -He gets highly impatient , he even goes as far as going in demon form to try to force his way in  -Luckily Lucifer stopped him and scolded him  -After a while, he was finally able to see you , he burst in and was at a halt -He saw you there with a bundle -He carefully approached as you gave him a loving Smile  -”H-Hello Princess” -”Hey Dia..” you were clearly exhausted -”is everything ok..?” -You nod as you reveal the baby boy  -he lightly gasped and came closer “he’s here..” “do you want to hold him?” -He was caught by surprise in a moment but nods -you handed the baby over to him  -All he could do was hug his son, the next soon to be Prince, for He’ll be King once he marries you  -”Hello Sweet Prince..~ “
Barbatos
-He was very grateful to Diavola to let him have a break for the day to be be able to see his child -He was very calm throughout it all but still tends to worry a little  -he knew you’d be fine but your screams made him wonder otherwise, it must of been painful -After Hours, He was allowed in, he was excited but kept that internally  -He enters and sees you holding two bundles -He smiled as he reaches to you  -”I hope you’re doing better my dear” -”I’ve been through worst but this was a little tough ..~” you teased  -You then reveal the two baby girls -he smiled “they’re beautiful, darling~” -Would Daddy like to hold them?” -he smiles cheerfully “of course i would” -He held the twins and they tried to grab at his face -He wanted to cry tears of joy but he’d be a mess , so he kept it internally for now -He chuckled “settle down girls , I’m here now~” 
Solomon  
-He’s a human, so of course , birth giving isn’t foreign to him but he’s never had it happen to him before  -He wanted to be there by your side but he was rejected and had to sit out in the waiting room -Asmo chatted away with him, Asmo talked about getting the baby a billion cloths  -Solomon didn’t mind but that was a bit much but he appreciates the thought but he hopes Asmo isn’t being literal -The time Finally comes , he mentally prepares himself , just a tap nervous is all, it’s not like he’s going against an almighty monster -Though he fears you may be like that because some mothers tend to kill the fathers who caused them so much pain- -He enters and smiles upon seeing you holding the baby  -”Hey dummy..~” -”Hey..”he smiled, he approaches and feels so much excitement  -”how’s the most beautiful thing and most wonderful miracle feeling?~” -You rolled your eyes “We’re fine , but he was a rough ride”  -you revealed the baby , it was a girl, she was so little  -He smiled “may i hold her?” -”yeah, of course, just be carful. I just got her to settle down “ -You hand her over to him and she gets a little fussy -”ah, the story of a new troublemaker~” He says as he calms his daughter
Simeon 
-Him and luke were waiting patiently out in he waiting room  -Luke was trying to be polite but he couldn’t help but be excited! He couldn't wait for a new baby sister or brother  -”Simeon, is the baby here yet? “ “no, it’ll take a little more time “ -Luke gets pouty but he tries to suck it up -When the screams where heard, that’s when they started to get worried  -Just like Demons, Angels aren’t used to child birth, unless they bless babies for others  -Luke was a little scared of what was happening while Simeon just tries to think of how it’ll be over soon  -When the doctors opens the door, they were allowed in  -Luke went in excited  -They enter and see you holding the baby , relaxing on the bed  -Luke got up to you “i-is that them?” -you nod “mmhm” you showed the baby, a sweet baby girl -Luke’s eye sparkled “I got a baby sister! “ -Simeon smiled “She’s so glorious , just like her mother “ -”c-can i hold her please?” -you nod, handing the baby over “just be careful”  -Luke holds the baby carfully and is in near tears”...I love her so much “ -Simeon tries to calm him down while you just sit there, seeing how happy your family is -”h-here, you can have a turn, you’re the dad after all “ Luke hands her to Simeon -He lightly rubs his daughter’s head when she started to whimper and hum softly  -”Nothing is more Blissful then this..~” (Hope you enjoyed! Leave some more suggestions!)
318 notes · View notes
justcallmefox89 · 4 years
Text
Truth or Dare Part 4
The birthday sleep over has completely fallen apart, Mammon and Levi are at each other’s throats, Arianthi backslides into old thoughts and dangerous habits, and Diavolo offers her comfort.  
Some good old fashioned angst and NSFW content:  Language, blowjob, penetrative sex, face riding, unprotected sex.  
Remember everyone, consent is key.  Being open and honest with your partner and making sure you’re both on the same page is the sexiest thing you can do for one another.  Also - practice safe sex mmmkay? :)
TW: body image and self esteem issues, eating disorders.
Written from the perspective of my female character Arianthi. 
I’m adding a different mood playlist to each installment of this series, just songs that I listened to while writing and feel embody each part of the story. 
Foxy Shazam - Count Me Out
Callum Scott - Dancing on My Own
Meg Myers - Desire
Hozier - Movement
Jess Benko - A Soulmate Who Wasn’t Meant to Be 
Tumblr media
“Arianthi!  Arianthi!  Open the damn door!”  Mammon pounds on the door to Arianthi’s room, unable to open it.
“Screaming at her to open the door after you’ve just insulted her on her birthday probably isn’t the best way to get her to let you in Mammon,” Lucifer says coldly.
“I doubt she’d let you in anyway, scumbag,” Satan adds, an angry growl in his voice. 
Mammon opens his mouth to snap back, then closes it, unable to come up with a retort.
“Stupid Mammon can’t even defend himself this time,” Asmo mocks.  “You just blew whatever shot you had with Arianthi straight to hell.”
Mammon looks at the floor, ashamed.  “I didn’t mean it.  She’s got to know I didn’t mean it, I was just so.....”
“Jealous?  Stupid?  Idiotic?  Pick a description because they all fit.  Newsflash, even a shut in otaku like me knows like you can’t treat the girl you supposedly care about like shit and then expect her to still like you.”  Levi glares at Mammon and then tries the doorknob again, agitated.  
The door still doesn’t open and he can’t hear any movement inside her room.
Beel looks around worriedly.  “She never locks her door.  Ever.  She always leaves it open so I can go in and get the snacks she keeps for me.  And Luke said she might be sick.”
Belphie shares his concern.  “Do you think we should have Beel break the door in?  In case she’s too sick to answer and needs help?”
For the first time since Lilith, Lucifer looks to be at a loss.  Concern for Arianthi and the urge to comfort her battles with his desire to protect her privacy.
Diavolo steps forward to pass a hand over the door and sighs.  “It wouldn’t matter if he did.  She’s warded the door against us.”
The brothers share a look of surprise.
Mammon is the first to recover his voice.  “Where would she even learn ward magic?  And why would she start using it now?”
“I taught her.”  The demons turn to look at Solomon, who has walked up behind them.  “And as to why she’s using it, I’d venture to guess that Mammon’s little attempt to shatter her self-confidence worked, and she doesn’t want to see any of you right now.”
Mammon flushes with shame.  “I didn’t mean any of it,” he mutters.
“Then you shouldn’t have said it.”  For the first time a sharp tone enters Solomon’s voice. 
“Take down the ward,” Lucifer orders him.
Solomon moves to stand in front of Arianthi’s door.  “No.”
Lucifer’s eyes gleam red, anger rising.  “You may be a powerful sorcerer Solomon, but I am one of the seven lords of the Devildom and I will rip your heart out of your chest without hesitation.  Open.  The.  Door.”
“No.”
Lucifer lunges forward, already shifting to his demon form.  
Diavolo stops him with a strong hand on his shoulder.  “I know you’re all worried, but maybe Solomon is right.  Maybe we should respect her privacy.  She’s put up the wards for a reason.”
Levi pushes forward and knocks softly on the door.  “Arianthi?  It’s me.  Can I come in?”
Silence.
“Please Arianthi?”
The demons and Solomon all hear movement behind the closed door and Arianthi’s voice whispering.  There’s a soft click and the door opens.  Arianthi’s hair has been pulled back into a messy ponytail, her make up removed.  A t-shirt that is clearly Beel’s hangs to her knees, over it she wears one of Levi’s hoodies, and a pair of Belphie’s sweats peek out beneath the over sized shirts.  She’s obviously been crying.
Something sharp and painful twists in Mammon’s chest.  I did this.  I made my human cry.  I was stupid and jealous and I fucked up. I need to make this right.  He moves quickly towards the open door, attempting to push past Levi.
“Arianthi, I’m so sorry.  I didn’t mean -”
Arianthi holds up a hand to cut him off.  “Just Levi.”  Her voice is soft and hoarse.  
Levi slips past Mammon and into the room.  Arianthi shuts the door behind him and whispers the incantation to once again ward the door. 
------------------------------------------------------------
Levi follows me and we both take a seat on my bed, leaning up against the headboard, shoulders touching.
“Luke said he heard you being sick.”
I sigh heavily.  
I don’t want to talk about this now.  Never talking about it would be ideal.  Forgetting this whole shit show of a night would be fantastic.  
“I was sick.  Then I took a shower and brushed my teeth.  I’m fine now.
“Did you make yourself sick on purpose?”  Levi asks softly.
I turn to face him, getting my first proper look at his face and his emerging black eye.  
“Levi!  What happened to your face?”  I reach out to touch his cheek, worried.
He gently grabs my hand and pulls it down, folding it between his two large ones.  “Don’t change the subject.”
The urge to cry comes on again, hard and fast.  “I’m sorry Levi,” I whisper.
He sighs.  “I’m not mad at you.  I just........I wish you wouldn’t feel like that’s something you have to start doing again.”
“I’m sorry,” I say again.  “It just....it’s hard.  I haven’t felt that way in a long time but then......... I just felt this panic and I thought if I could get rid of the food then I would feel better.  And if I start doing it again then I can be more like what he wants.......I could be pretty.  I could be so much more than this. I could be good enough for him.”   I gesture at my body, the tears flowing freely now.
Levi thunks his head back against the headboard of the bed in frustration.  He turns me to face him, his thumbs brushing my tears from my cheeks.  
“Hey we’ve talked about this.  Remember what you told me when Mammon was selling that picture of me?  And I was so embarrassed because I didn’t want anyone seeing that much of my body?  You told me I was perfect how I was.  I didn’t have to look like Beel or Mammon to be attractive. Fuck everyone who thought differently.  You loved me.  My brothers loved me in their own weirdly deranged ways.  You said I didn’t have to change to be like anyone else to be worthy of love and the things that made me different from my brothers were what made me sexy. And then you got Mammon to delete the picture and give me all the Grimm he made from it.”
Levi grins at me. “I think you’re the only person who has ever been able to get Mammon to willingly hand over Grimm.”
I choke back a sob.  “I remember.”
“Ok, well I’m telling you the same thing now.  Don’t go back to that.  Don’t hate yourself, don’t make yourself sick to try to control things, to change things about yourself to make someone else care about you.”  Levi gives me a little shake.
“That’s easy for you to say.  I’m just a human.  Is there some stupid rule here that all demons must be skinny and mind blowingly attractive?”  
Levi looks at me for a moment then laughs.  I join in, giggling through my tears.
“I mean what I’m saying,” Levi says as he wipes away the rest of my tears.  “We all care about you, exactly how you are.  If you start to feel like you can’t handle this and need help we can talk to Diavolo.  He can send you back to the human realm to get help from the doctors there.  I’m sure he’d let you come back after.”
I bite my lip anxiously then nod.  “I’ll tell you if I can’t get a handle on it.  If I can’t, or you think I’m slipping you can tell Diavolo.”
“Pinky promise?”
I smile, linking my pinky with his.  “Pinky promise.”
Levi sighs in relief.  “Good.  Feel a little better?” 
“Yeah.  Yeah, I think so,” I answer, leaning my shoulder against his.  “Hey Levi?”
“Mmm?”
"Thank you.”
He smiles at me.  “Anything for my Henry.”   
“Could you do me a favor?  Could you tell Diavolo I want to talk to him real quick?  I want to apologize for everything that happened tonight.”
“Yeah, sure.”
I stand up and reach over to my nightstand.  I hand Levi a jumble of things; a toothbrush, a D.D.D. charger, some t-shirts, a pair of sunglasses, a white dress shirt. 
 “Can you give these back to Mammon when you go back out there?  Please?”
Levi nods and we walk to the door together.  I take down the ward and he slips through the open door.
------------------------------------------------------------
“She wants to talk to Diavolo,” Levi tells the crowd assembled outside Arianthi’s door.  “She’s upset but she’s not sick anymore.”
A wave of shock ripples through the rest of the brothers.  Diavolo nods and quickly enters the bedroom.
“She really doesn’t want to see any of us?”  Asmo asks, hurt.
Levi looks at the ground, trying to avoid the upset gazes of his brothers.  “It’s nothing personal Asmo.  She’s just got some stuff going on right now.  Really personal stuff.  She can’t talk about it with anyone else.  She might though.  Soon.  Just don’t be mad at her for it, please?”
Asmo nods, still obviously distressed.
“Well, now that I know she’s not sick I’m going to gather up Luke and Simeon and we’ll take our leave,” Solomon says, shooting Mammon one last dirty look before he turns and walks down the hall. 
The demons all give him a half-hearted wave goodbye. 
Levi remembers the things that Arianthi gave him and quickly shoves them into Mammon’s arms.  “Here’s all your stuff that was in Arianthi’s room.  She doesn’t want it in there anymore.”
Mammon looks down at this things in horror.  There’s a stinging sensation in his eyes, and he suddenly can’t breathe.  He bites down on his lip hard enough to draw blood, and quickly walks to his room without a word to his brothers.   
“This is really bad.”  Beel looks around at the remaining brothers.  “We have to fix this.”  
Satan sighs softly.  “This might be something we can’t fix Beel.”
“Satan’s right.  Ultimately this is going to be between Arianthi and Mammon,” Lucifer says. “The best thing we can do is to let Arianthi know we still care about her and want her in the House of Lamentation.”
He sighs. “Let’s all go to bed.  There’s nothing else to do here tonight.  I’m sure if Diavolo thinks anything is wrong he’ll let us know before he leaves.”
The brothers all exchange worried glances before they disperse to their bedrooms.
------------------------------------------------------------
“Hey.”  Diavolo gives me a small smile as he enters my room.
“Hey.”  I return the smile and pat my bed.  “You can come sit with me if you want.”
“Do you want to put the wards back up?”
I shake my head. “No, just close the door please.”
“Are you feeling better?”  The mattress dips under Diavolo’s weight, causing me to slide closer to him.
“Yeah, just a bad moment.”
“I’m sorry Mammon said those things about you.”  Diavolo reaches out to take my hand.  I involuntarily flinch at the touch of his fingers and he jerks his hand back.  “I’m sorry, I overstepped.”
I quickly grab his hand, lacing my fingers with his.  “It’s ok Diavolo.  I’m just feeling a little off right now.”
“Are you sure?”  He looks at me with concern.  “I don’t want to make your night worse with my attention if you don’t want it.”
I press a soft kiss to his knuckles.  “I’m sure.”
A faint blush stains Diavolo’s cheeks.  “And you promise you’re feeling better?”
I grin.  He’s absolutely adorable.  
“Promise.  I have some things I need to work on, but right now I am feeling better.” 
He squeezes my hand.  “Good.”  He pauses for a moment, looking as if he’s trying to gather his thoughts, before he turns and looks earnestly into my eyes.  
“Arianthi....... I want you to know that I don’t agree with any of the things Mammon said.  And I hope that you don’t let his outburst taint your opinions of other demons...... or of me.  I meant what I said earlier tonight, about wanting to get to know you more.  I don’t want to push you, because I know that you have feelings for Mammon, but I do hope you’re still open to giving me a chance.  And I think our encounter earlier this evening proved that I’m more than slightly attracted to you, just as you are.”
His last sentence comes out in a rushed whisper, and he’s blushing heavily.
“I wouldn’t let something like that change my opinion of you Diavolo,” I respond truthfully.  “There are some feelings regarding Mammon that I need to sort through.  I really don’t know how all those are going to shake out.  I do like you, I enjoy our time together, and I think I made it obvious earlier that I’m attracted to you too.  I meant what I said earlier about getting to know you.  I’m open to see what could happen between us.”
He smiles and places a soft kiss on the inside of my wrist.  “I’m a very patient demon.  I’ll follow your lead.  Whatever you want, no pressure at all.” 
He pushes himself up from my bed.  “I should be going.  You need your rest.”  He leans down and kisses my forehead.  “Good night Arianthi.”
I reach up and stroke his cheek.  “Diavolo?’
“Hmmm?”
“Stay with me tonight?”  This might be a bad idea, but I really just want him close to me right now.  Someone who’s open about how he feels me.  Someone strong and handsome who can distract me from this fucked up night.  
I just want some comfort.  Some cuddles.  There’s nothing wrong with that.  Right?
He hesitates a moment, shock and pleasure warring across his face.  “Are you sure?”
I bite my lip, hesitating a moment before holding my arms out to him.  “Cuddle me?”
“Your wish is my command, birthday girl.”  He grins at me, bending down to give a tight hug.
I stand up to feel more of him, nuzzling my head against his chest.  “Thank you.”
He rests his chin on my head.  “Anything for you,” he whispers.  
We stand that way for a minute, swaying slightly.  I feel safe in Diavolo’s arms, like nothing can ever hurt me.  
A demon, the Prince of the Devildom no less, is the one who makes me feel safer than I ever have before.  I internally roll my eyes and huff a small laugh against Diavolo’s chest. 
“Diavolo?”
“Mmm?”
“This is really nice, but can we get into bed?  I’m exhausted.”  I playfully slump against him to prove my point.
He effortlessly holds me up and chuckles.  “Yeah, we can do that.  Let me send a message to Barbatos really quickly to let him know he’s free to go home.” 
He reaches for his D.D.D. to tap out a quick message.
I pull away to shuck off my hoodie and sweats.  I look up to find Diavolo staring at me, eyes wide.  I look down at myself, wondering what the problem is. 
Beel’s t-shirt is all the way down to my knees, I’m wearing underwear.  I’m all covered up. What’s wrong?   Panic starts all over again. He hates what he sees. This is a mistake. He knows he made a mistake.
“Everything ok?”  I ask anxiously.
“Uh huh.  Yep.  All good here,” Diavolo says, swallowing nervously.
“Ok.”  I smile at him, and slide between the sheets, sinking into my mattress.  Diavolo moves to lay beside me, still fully clothed.  
I look up at him, confused.  “You’re not sleeping in your clothes are you?”
Diavolo’s ears turn red.  “I was considering it.”
I stare at him.  “Diavolo, we’re both adults here.  You can sleep in your boxers.  We’ll be ok.  If anything happens beyond cuddles it will only be because we both want it.  But neither one of us are going to sleep comfortably if you’re still wearing all your clothes.”
He lets out a nervous breath then grins down at me.  “You’re right, you’re right.”
He peels off his jacket and shirt, and I stare as his hands move to his belt buckle and he pushes down his pants.  
Holy. Fucking. Fuck.  Temptation has entered the chat.  
I thought Beel was a gorgeous specimen, but Diavolo surpasses even him.  Every inch is heavily muscled, perfectly defined. Smooth skin that I want to run my hands over. 
I want to climb this man like a tree and never come down.  Bad Arianthi.  Bad.  Quench your thirst. 
Diavolo slides under the sheets next to me and we roll onto our sides to face each other.  
He reaches out to hold one of my hands.  “I really am sorry your birthday ended on such a sour note.”
I squeeze his hand.  “It’s not your fault.  I’m sorry you had to see all that. Besides, it’s not all bad.  We’re here, getting to spend time together.”
He gives me a soft smile, and his hand moves up to gently stroke my arm.  “That’s true.”
I tense in automatic response to his touch.  He’s going to feel how fat my arms are.  He’s going to hate what he feels.
Diavolo’s hand stills immediately.  “Is this ok?”
I suck in a deep breath and nod, relaxing a little, waiting for the rational part of my brain to take over.  
He’s seen my arms before.  He already know what they look like.  He wouldn’t be here, touching me, spending time with me, if he didn’t want to.  
He resumes his gentle stroking, but remains silent.  He seems to be considering what he wants to say.
I place a hand on his bare chest and he shivers under my touch.  “Diavolo I can hear your wheels turning from here.  What’s on your mind?”
He smirks at me.  “I always forget how perceptive you are.”  He pauses for a minute, choosing his words carefully.  “I know that you have some issues with your body.”
I tense up again. 
His hand moves away from my arm, stroking the curve of my waist down to my hip.  Up and down.  His soft touch gradually helps me relax. 
 “I’m not going to push you to talk about it now.  But I hope someday you feel comfortable enough to talk to me about what you’re feeling.  Until then I have no problem telling you how gorgeous I find you.  How perfect your body is to me.  I’ll tell you every day.  Every hour.  Every minute, if that’s what it takes.”
I lay my head on his chest trying to hide my tears.  Happy tears this time.  After a couple minutes I regain my composure and look back up at him.  Warm golden eyes meet mine, and he smiles down at me.
I bite the inside of my cheek to hold back more tears and give him a small smile.  “Thanks.  You know, you’re going against every single demon stereotype right now.”
He pulls me to him, holding me tight.  He chuckles, and it rumbles deep in his chest.  “Maybe so.  But as long as I’m making you happy that’s all that matters.” 
He pulls back to stare down at me intently.  “I just ask that when you do struggle with things like that you talk to me.  I might not always be able to make things better, or even understand, but I want you to always be honest about your feelings with me.”
“I can do that.  But only if you promise to do the same thing.”  I press a soft kiss to his cheek.
“I promise.”  He moves to kiss my cheek in return, but I turn my head at the last minute, catching his lips with my own.
This kiss is soft, chaste, but he still gives a pleased gasp and tightens his grip on me.
He pulls away suddenly and looks down at me with concern.  “I want to kiss you. Really kiss you.”
“Then kiss me.”  I tilt my head up, ready for more.  
Diavolo frowns and bites his lip.  “You’ve had a rough night, and you’re upset.  I don’t want to take things further, if you’re not......”  He exhales sharply.  “I don’t want to take advantage of you if you’re not in a good head space right now.”
Mind.  Blown.  
Once again, a demon is being more considerate than the majority of humans I’ve dated.  He deserves to have the same consideration from me. 
“I promise you Diavolo, you won’t be taking advantage of me.  I want this.  I want you.  But if you don’t feel comfortable then I won’t push it and we’ll just cuddle and talk.  Or you can leave if you don’t feel ok about that anymore.  I won’t be mad.  I want you to be comfortable too.”
“I am more than comfortable with this as long as you are.”  Diavolo moves in to kiss me again but I press a finger to his lips, stopping him.  
“I just want to make sure that I’m being totally transparent with you.  I like you, and I do want you.  I still want to keep getting to know you.  But whatever happens between us tonight I can’t make you any promises that it will lead to anything permanent.  If you don’t feel ok doing anything more physical than kissing without a being in a relationship, then I totally understand.”  I hold my breath, waiting for his response.
He stays silent for a bit, mulling over what I’ve told him.  “I appreciate your honesty.  We’ve already decided that we want to keep learning about each other and spending more time together.  Sex won’t change what I want, and I won’t ever push you for more than you’re comfortable with.  Physically or emotionally.”
Whew.  “Same page then?”
“Same page.  Can I please kiss you now?” 
I giggle and nod, and he surges forward, pressing his lips against mine.  I sigh into the kiss, pleasure lighting up every nerve ending.  Diavolo licks along my lower lip.  
“Open your mouth,” he growls.
I instantly obey and brush my tongue against his.  He pulls me tight against him, his tongue soft against mine, expertly teasing me, gentle and exploring.  I wriggle against him, desperate for more contact.  He grips my hips and rolls onto his back, pulling me on top of him, his mouth never breaking contact with mine.
His hands tug at the hem of my shirt, asking permission.  I move up to my knees and pull it over my head, tossing it carelessly onto the floor.  
“Fuck.”  
Diavolo pulls me further up his body and turns his attention to my breasts.  He draws one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard and flicking it with his tongue.  His hand moves up to cup my other breast, gently stroking and squeezing, before his large fingers start pinching and tugging my nipple, bringing it to a stiff peak.  He cups me again, his large palm overstimulating my already sensitive breast.
I card my hands through his hair, tugging slightly and giving a small moan.  Diavolo releases my nipple from his mouth with a small pop! and gives me a wicked grin.  His hands stroke down my back and move to squeeze my ass.  He mouths my neck, teeth nipping against the tender skin.  
“Mmmmm.  So quiet.  Clearly I need to do better.  I need you moaning my name.  Telling me how good I make you feel.  Don’t hold back beautiful.  Let me hear you,” he murmurs.
He sucks hard on a particularly sensitive spot on my neck, then soothes it with a soft swipe of his tongue.
“Diavolo!”  I shudder against him and he takes the opportunity to lavish more attention on my breasts, kissing and licking, making me squirm above him.
“Mmmm, that’s more like it.”  His deep voice sends pleasant vibrations against my skin as he continues to use his mouth on me. 
I pull back and look down at him.  He’s flushed, breathing quickly, his eyes heavy lidded with desire.  “My turn.”
I lightly kiss his lips, moving down his neck slowly.  I press sensuous kisses to his chest, licking one of his nipples while I gently scrape the other with my fingernail.  
“Yes,” he hisses between clenched teeth, arching beneath me.
I grin against his chest, slowly moving down his body.  I scrape my teeth along his abs and give him a soft bite.  One large hand moves down to softly tangle in my hair.  I stop my kisses at the waistband of his boxers.  His erection strains against the fabric, but I’m not going any further without his express permission.
I look up at him through my lashes and give a small tug on his boxers.  “Are you ok with this?”
His hand tightens in my hair.  “Don’t you dare stop now.”
“Perfect.” 
I give his stomach one last kiss and palm him through thin fabric.  His hips arch up and he ruts against my hand, the front of his boxers already wet with pre-cum. 
I pull his boxers down, slowly freeing his erection.  He lifts his hips, speeding the process along.  I quickly toss away his discarded boxers, and reach out to stroke him.  
He’s huge.  
I suddenly have doubts about how he’s going to fit in my.......well anything really.  Then Diavolo moans my name and everything else disappears.
I continue to stroke him, relishing the velvet feel of his skin against my hand.  I lower my head to give him kitten licks, slowly swiping my tongue against the head of his cock and his slit, lapping up his pre-cum. 
“Fuck.”  Diavolo fists his hands into my hair.  “More.  Please.”
It’s a heady feeling, having the prince of the Devildom beneath me and begging for my mouth.  I wrap my lips around the head of his cock and begin sucking, continuing to stroke his shaft, my hand moving in rhythm with my mouth. 
Diavolo tries to keep his hips still, but he can’t help thrusting up into my mouth, greedy for more contact.  I gag, my eyes tearing up, but I continue on, his pleasure the only thing on my mind.  I eventually remove my hand, my mouth bobbing up and down on his cock.  It’s a messy, sloppy blow job, but from his groans of pleasure I don’t think he minds. 
“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” Diavolo breathes, those words somewhere between a plea and a prayer. 
I reach between his legs to cup his balls, my mouth still wrapped around his thick cock.  His hips buck, his back arching off the bed, and I can feel the muscles in his thighs tighten.  He tugs on my hair, pulling me off of him, and I release his cock reluctantly.
“Something wrong?” I ask with a grin, wiping the back of my hand across my mouth.
“If you keep doing that I’m going to cum.”  Diavolo’s chest is heaving and he grips my wrists tightly.
I arch an eyebrow at him.  “And that’s bad because.......?”
He growls and yanks me up his body.  “Because I need to taste you.  Now.  And when I cum I’m going to cum inside you.  I want to see your face when I mark you as mine for the first time.”
He keeps pulling me up until my thighs are resting on either side of his head.  He presses a kiss to my inner thigh.  “Hold on to the headboard.”
“Wha-? Oh god!”  I lose my train of thought as Diavolo gives a sharp bite to the inside of my thigh.  He turns his head and brushes kisses along the other.
He brings a finger up and slowly circles my clit.  
“So pretty,” he mumbles.  “And so wet.  Just for me.”  
He lazily swipes his finger through my folds, up and down, before returning to press on my clit.
I grip the headboard, panting.  “Diavolo..... no teasing.”
He presses one finger into me, stretching me. He strokes slowly, giving me time to adjust to his size.
I whimper and attempt to move my hips.  One large hand grabs my thigh, holding me still.  Diavolo adds a second finger, stroking in and out, working me into a frenzy.
My grip on the headboard tightens.  “Your mouth, use your mouth.  Please,” I beg.
Diavolo continues his maddeningly slow pace, pressing his thumb against my clit for further stimulation.  
“I can’t hear you princess.  Be a little louder for me.  Use your words.”  He blows a breath of cool air against my heated core and I shiver, tightening around his fingers.
“Diavolo please!  I need your mouth on me.  Please!”  I’m no longer worried about keeping quiet.  The whole House of Lamentation could hear me for all I care.  My one need is to feel Diavolo’s mouth on my pussy.  NOW.
He laughs and gives my thigh one last kiss.  “Good girl.”  He slowly and deliberately swipes his tongue against my clit. 
“Fuck!” 
He removes his fingers and presses an open mouth kiss against me, his tongue stroking through my folds.  “You taste even better than I imagined you would.
My hips buck.  “More,” I mewl helplessly.
Diavolo’s hands grab my hips roughly and he plunges his tongue inside me.  I scream, overwhelmed by the sensation.  He keeps a firm grip on me, never allowing me to move away.  He begins using his hands to guide my hips in an up and down rhythm, his tongue thrusting in and out.
He’s making me fuck his face.
Everything begins to fade around me.  Nothing matters but the sensation of Diavolo’s tongue between my thighs.
“Diavolo..........Diavolo I’m going to cum.  I’m going to cum.”  I’m a whimpering mess, unable to do anything but hold tight to the headboard and let pleasure sweep me away. 
He removes his mouth from me long enough to say, “Then cum for me Arianthi.  I need you on my tongue.”  
His presses a finger against my clit, circling it roughly while he resumes fucking me with his tongue.  Tension gathers in my core, tighter and tighter until it finally snaps.
“Diavolo!”  I scream, shuddering against him.  My vision flashes white as my orgasm takes over.  He continues to stroke and lick me through my release, lapping up everything I give him.
I’m trembling when he eases me off of him and lays me back on the mattress.  He rolls over on top of me, grinning and looking pleased with himself.
He brings his mouth to mine and gives me a deep kiss.  I can taste myself on his tongue, and I moan into the kiss, greedy for more of whatever he wants to give me.  
“Good?” he whispers against my lips.
“Try amazing,” I whisper back, lacing my hands behind his neck and bringing him down for another kiss. 
He breaks the kiss and laughs, moving to settle his hips between my thighs.  He reaches between us to stroke his cock a few times, using the head to tease my already overstimulated clit.
He looks up and meets my eyes.  “Is this ok?  Do you still want this?”
I nod and tilt my hips up to meet his.  “I want this.”
He slowly pushes the head of his cock into my pussy.  I tense slightly and he stops.
He’s so big.  How is he this big?  Are all demons this big?  Goddamn Diavolo you could split a girl in half.
Diavolo presses a soft kiss to my lips.  “Relax baby.  I won’t hurt you. I’ll be so gentle with you.”
My body melts into his, soothed by his sweet words.  He continues pressing into me, inch by excruciatingly pleasurable inch.
“You’re so beautiful Arianthi. And so wet for me.  Such a tight fit baby.  Like you were made just for me. Fuuuuuuuuck...... I love the way you feel.”  Diavolo murmurs against my neck, kissing and nuzzling me between endearments.  
He lets out a beautifully obscene moan once he’s fully sheathed, and gives me time to adjust to his size.  I’m panting, already overwhelmed by the feel of him.
“Are you ok if I move?”
“Fuck yes,” I whisper, rocking my hips against his.
He pulls out, only to thrust back in slowly, drawing out every ounce of pleasure he can.  I throw my head back against my pillows and close my eyes, reveling in sensations.  His cock inside me, his lips on my neck, the feel of his hair between my fingers, the weight of his body pressing me down into the mattress.
Diavolo continues to slowly thrust, building our mutual ecstasy. I feel his mouth against my ear.  
“Look at me,” he orders, nipping at my earlobe.
I gasp and focus my eyes on his face.
“I want your eyes on me princess.”  He snaps his hips against mine, increasing his pace.  “I want you looking at me when you cum, knowing it’s me that made you feel this way.  I don’t want you thinking about Mammon.  I want all your attention on me and how good I make you feel.”
“Yes,” I whimper, wrapping my legs around his waist.
“What’s that baby?”  Diavolo thrusts into me hard, leaving me gasping for breath.
“Only you Diavolo.  Only you,”  I cry out.
He gives me a feral grin.  “Good girl.”
He deepens his thrusts, grinding against me every time our hips meet.  He holds himself up on one forearm, bringing his other hand between us, fingers sliding down my stomach to rub against my clit.
I scream his name, fingertips digging into his shoulders.  I’m coming undone, quickly.  Diavolo feels me tensing beneath him and kisses me, tongue entering my mouth and mimicking the movements of his cock.
I break away, gasping for air.  “Diavolo I’m going to -”
“Me too.”  He’s breathless, chasing his own orgasm.  He rests his forehead against mine.  “Please look at me.  I need to see you.”
I open my eyes and he looks down at me, eyes glazed with lust.  His hips stutter and his thrusts become sloppy.  He pushes into me one last time, and I feel the warmth of his release as he cums, moaning my name.  The sensation of his cock twitching inside me sends me over the edge, and I bury my face into his neck as my pussy clenches around his cock. 
We’re both breathing hard when I pull back to look at him, and he leans down to repeatedly press soft kisses to my lips.  He stays inside me as we kiss and hold each other for a few minutes, reluctant to separate. 
“Are you ok?”  Diavolo whispers, nose nuzzling my cheek.
“That was ........ I can’t....wow....you’re amazing,” I answer, giggling as his nose tickles me.  “Are you ok?”
“I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this happy.”  He smiles down at me, giving me one last kiss before he pulls out and stretches out beside me. He curls into the position of big spoon and pulls me tight against his chest, one arm wrapping around me protectively.  
He kisses the back of my neck, and pulls the blankets over us.  “I think we’ve earned a little rest.”  
I nestle back into the warmth of his chest and relax, listening as Diavolo’s breathing becomes slow and even.  I close my eyes, settling into the comfort of his body against mine when a sudden noise makes my eyes fly open.
I scan my bedroom before my gaze settles on my door, cracked open, light from the hallway spilling into my room.  My eyes fly up and land on the pale face staring at me from the doorway.
Oh, fuck. 
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mammon wanders the hallways of the House of Lamentation, miserable over the way things had happened at Arianthi’s party.  He can’t sleep, sick to his stomach that he had let his jealousy and pride hurt the person that he cared about the most.
I gotta find a way to make this up to her, to show her I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean it.  It was so stupid.  All I need is a chance to apologize and I’ll promise to never do it again. I just need to get her to listen to me for five minutes so I can give her the birthday present I got her and tell her how I really feel.
A cry catches his attention and he follows the sound to investigate.  He ends up in front of Arianthi’s door.  It’s barely cracked open and he can hear whimpers coming from inside her room.  Worried that she may be sick again he softly pushes the door open a little wider.  What he sees makes vomit rise in his throat and tears spill down his cheeks. 
Diavolo is on top of Arianthi, thrusting his cock into her slowly and whispering things Mammon can’t hear.  What he can hear is Arianthi moaning in pleasure as she writhes beneath Diavolo, bucking her hips up to meet his every thrust.  He watches in horror as they cry out in pleasure together, then gently kiss and whisper to each other as they come down from their shared high. 
What did I do?  Did I fuck up this badly?  Or has this been going on right under my nose the whole time?  No, no, Arianthi’s not like that.  I did this.  I pushed her away every time she started to get close. This happened because I fucked up.  I didn’t treat her right, I didn’t let her know I cared.  This is on me.
Mammon roughly wipes the tears from his cheeks as he watches Diavolo wrap himself around Arianthi and they settle in to sleep.  He can hear Arianthi’s sigh of contentment as she cuddles back into Diavolo.
He stares at them a moment longer, something deep and ugly taking root in his chest.  Rage, jealousy, pain, love, and regret war inside him, each begging to be released.  
That should be me. She’s MY human. MY girl. I’m her FIRST man. That should be ME.
Mammon’s breath catches as Arianthi’s eyes snap open and focus on him.  He looks at the person he loves above all others, tears falling openly down his face, as she gazes back at him in shock from the comfort of another demon’s arms. 
257 notes · View notes
geniusgub · 3 years
Text
north//chapter thirteen
genre: angst
pairing: season twelve spencer reid x female oc
warnings: prison arc, blood, implications of being drugged, self harm under implications of being drugged, physical violence, mentions of abuse (lmk if i missed anyting)
word count: 8.2k
summary: spencer’s post-mexico hardships continue on, and get much worse, while amelia has a concerning experience in her own apartment
i hope u all like this chapter! enjoy!! like, comment, and reblog!! reblogging helps so much❤️
Tumblr media
SPENCER
The feeling of abandonment is one that I'm far too familiar with. I hadn't expected to be completely abandoned by the FBI and to not have their support in this battle. I know that I have the support of my team and of Amelia, but when the FBI says that they won't support me and help me stay out of jail or prison, it's disheartening. It’s crushing. It leaves me feeling cold as I sit against a cinderblock wall. 
Sitting in jail is boring. It is, by far, the most boring thing I've ever done in my life. I sit and stare at the wall all day while I regret my decisions and listen to the detainees around me scream and shout. The team individually comes by the visit but it's only for a short amount of time because they're working so hard. They're working on my case at the same time they're working on other cases that they would normally take and I know that they can't come to entertain me. I fully understand why, but I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I wish I could be home.
But Amelia never comes. I told her not to come. She doesn't need to see me like this. She has seen enough. I'm a completely broken mess, rotting away in a jail cell and I don't need her crying over me or providing more content for her nightmares. I asked Emily to relay this message to her and I was told she cried and didn't speak to anyone for a few hours. She's been staying in a BAU interview room and will only go home for a few hours every few days, and I don't blame her. If the roles were reversed, I wouldn't want to go home. But it breaks my heart to know how much Amelia is hurting without me and that I can't help her. I choose to pretend like she doesn’t exist so I won’t think about her. I pretend like I’m living the way I was before I met her. Alone, work-obsessed, with nobody but myself to confide in. It’s easy to forget her during the day when there’s a stream of sunlight flooding in from the tiny window to my right. But then I lay down at night and reach for her waist, or wait to feel her hand on my cheek, or crane my neck to kiss her, I crash back down to earth and remember that I can’t be with the woman I love because of my idiotic decisions.
Emily manages to get me in touch with an old friend hers who is willing to be my lawyer, a wonderful woman named Fiona. She's blunt and she knows what she's talking about and I appreciate that. And now that I have representation, we can move onto the trial and maybe I can go home. I try to absorb some of Amelia’s optimism and stay hopeful that I’ll be released on bail, but my own nasty pessimism rears its ugly head and pulverizes any sign of hope. 
Fiona wants me to plead guilty to a crime I didn't commit. I'll only get two to five years as opposed to twenty-five to life, but how could I plead guilty? My memories may be blurry for the first time ever but I know I would never kill that woman. That medicine she was providing me with helping my mom. Why would I kill her? There was another person in that motel room and if my brain would just cooperate and just confirm that it was Scratch, this could all be over.
If I plead guilty then Fiona says I can be released on bail pending trial. Rossi said he would be willing to post my bail, no matter the cost. I'm grateful for him and his generosity but as I spend my time sitting and staring at the wall and the ceiling and the concrete and the mold, the more I don't want to plead guilty. I want to fight this. I have complete faith in my team and their abilities to find Scratch. We found him once and we'll find him again.
"I'm gonna fight it."
That's what I tell Fiona. Being the supportive lawyer she is, she nods and goes on her way, but she comes back far too soon. She doesn't return with a suit for my trial or a date for my trial or handcuffs so I can be transported to my trial. She comes back with Emily.
"Spencer," Fiona sighs, "the Mexican authorities found the murder weapon in the desert. The theory is that you threw it out the window in the car chase. The previous offer you didn't want is off the table. The new offer is to plead guilty to involuntary manslaughter and get five to ten years."
"Gosh," Emily breathes, hanging her head. "There's nothing you can do?"
"Your DNA is on it and the blade matches the blade that cut your hand," Fiona explains. "Spencer, if you don't take this offer, there will be no more offers. And if you lose your trial, you're going to prison. I need to know what you're going to do."
"I'm-"
"Spencer," Emily cuts me off. "Can we talk privately?"
Fiona nods and collects her things, leaving the room and Emily takes her spot. As soon as the door is closed, I shake my head at Emily. "I can't plead guilty to something I didn't do."
"You could do life in prison," she whispers, and I can see her eyes start to tear up. I ignore them.
"You guys will find Scratch. I know you will." I nod stubbornly, falsely confident.
"Yes, we will. We will never stop looking for him. But what if we can do that this month? Or this year? Or this-" she shutters, "decade? Because we sure as hell can't do it before your trial."
I look down at my hands, observing the bandages over my hand. It stings and burns constantly and I wish it would go away. "How's Amelia? Is she still staying at the BAU?"
"Mostly," Emily responds. "Her friend- Jenna, I think- has come by a bunch to take her home and back. She's stayed at Jenna's a few times but she stays mostly in the interview rooms and in Garcia's room. She's, um, well, she's mad at you, Reid."
I scoff out a laugh, rolling my eyes. "Because I won't let her come here?"
"Exactly," there's no humor in her voice. "She just wants to see you. She wants to see that you're okay and it might help you feel better to see her and talk to her a bit. You can talk out decisions like this with her. She's your girlfriend and you were planning on moving in with her and JJ told us you were supposed to go buy an engagement ring for her. She deserves to be involved in this and not at the BAU, suffering and crying and having panic attacks-"
"She's having panic attacks?" My eyes widen, my back straightening up as the red flags start popping up in my head. Is she okay? Have her attacks been so bad that they have warranted a hospital trip? How is her breathing? Has she gone nonverbal? "Wha- is she-"
"Yeah, she’s had some. She obviously had that one with JJ and Garcia and she had one on Monday and she couldn’t speak for an hour.” 
"She usually goes nonverbal," I murmur, bringing my hands to my face and trying to avoid biting my nails out of nervousness. "Okay, okay, don't ever touch her until she can speak again. Keep a really calm and low voice and don't freak out because that makes it worse. Get her head between her knees and keep her sitting and get her water and-"
"Spencer, I know how to help a panic attack. We need to be talking about your trial," Emily protests.
"And after her attacks, she usually needs physical attention and she needs comfort and sometimes-"
"You're gonna go to prison, Reid!" Emily shouts, effectively shutting me up. "It's scary to accept but we have to talk about it! You could go to prison for a very long time if you don't accept this deal! Stop talking about your girlfriend’s panic attacks and talk about the situation at hand."
My face hardens and I drop my hands again, sighing. "I can't plead guilty. I just can't."
It's the answer she should have expected, and I'm sure she knew it was coming. Before I even finished, she was out of her seat and banging on the door for a guard to take her away. And yet again I'm left to myself and my thoughts, playing the blurry images over and over again, trying to make out faces and events and names. But there's nothing and I'm left to wonder if I'm going to die in a prison cell.
///
AMELIA
///
My dress has bunched up around my thighs but I can't find it in me to pull it down, even in a courthouse. My legs are full of goosebumps from the air conditioning and my denim jacket isn't doing much to help. I stare down at my lap, my hands resting there with Spencer's medallion between my fingers. The empty space on my hand between my pointer finger and thumb looks too empty and it makes my heart beat faster. I look from the medallion to my hand and back, and I suddenly want to rush out of this goddamn courthouse.
"Amelia," I hear Penelope's voice coming closer, and when I look up, the whole team is approaching.
"Hi," I smile weakly, standing and finally adjusting the hem of my dress. "You guys made it. How was the case?"
"Did they call Reid's case yet?" Luke asks, ignoring my formality question about the case.
"No, but they're about to," I shake my head, gesturing to an open door a few feet away.
They all start walking that way, but I don't follow. I make the decision to choose the horrible wooden bench over the even worse pew-like benches in the court. I had been so upset about not seeing Spencer, but maybe it was a blessing in disguise. Now that I'm faced with the idea of seeing him, I don't want to. I don't want to see him in handcuffs again, or sleep-deprived, or being told off by a judge or prosecutor. I know the BAU has virtually no evidence to support Spencer and that the judge isn't going to rule in his favor. I know that, the pessimist in me knows that. I don't need to see that.
"Amelia?" Dave is standing in front of me and I know it's him from his expensive looking shoes. "You're not coming in?"
"No, I don't need to-" I choke on my words, clutching the medallion in my hand, "to see this happen. I don't want to hear it."
"This doesn't have anything to do with the fact that you're not on Spencer's approved visitor’s list?"
"Maybe," It's taken me two years to learn not to lie to a profiler. "I don't know. But I don't want to see him, Dave. Please go. I'll be here."
I don't even need to ask. The look on their faces tells me everything. The way everyone holds themselves when they walk out and the way they glance around tells me what I need to know. Nobody looks up at me and nobody is running to me for a hug. Spencer isn’t at my side. 
I chew on my cheeks and choke down my tears as I stand, meeting them in the middle of the hallway when they walk toward me. "So how bad was it?"
Stephen is the first fearless one to speak up. "The judge decided he was a flight risk,"
I furrow my eyebrows. "A flight risk? Seriously? My Spencer?"
Tara nods shamefully. "He didn't use his FBI passport, he didn't inform the bureau, the prosecutor claimed he had connections all over the world and could get a fake passport and go on the run if he was released on bail. The judge agreed."
"So what now? What happens to him?" Penelope moves towards me and grabs onto my hand, enlacing our fingers. If she didn’t do that, I might have fallen to the floor in a puddle of tears.
"He's gonna go back to the federal jail," Luke answers. "His trial is in three months and that'll determine if he goes to prison or not."
"Penelope?" I whisper and she just hums in response. "Will you come with me?"
"Of course. Whatever you need," Penelope nods, giving everyone a soft, slightly concerned smile before I lead her away.
///
"Um, seriously?"
"Yeah."
"Now?"
"Yeah, now."
"You or me?"
"Me. Why, do you want one? I'll draw whatever you want."
"No thanks."
I pull open the door and let Penelope walk in first, even though she seems incredibly hesitant, practically tiptoeing through the threshold. She manages to get me to crack a tiny smile, but that's the most she gets before I just revert to my sadness.
"Zav!" I call, noticing the front desk is empty. Nonetheless, I walk up and grab a post-it and a pen, starting to scribble little drawings.
Zav comes wandering from the back of the tattoo parlor at the sound of my voice, smiling. "Oh, hey there! Been a while since I've seen you. Here for some new ink? It's about time you added to your sleeves."
"Just something really quick," I tell him, picking up the post-it with the sixth design I'd drawn. "Not on my arm. On my hand, right here," I gesture to the empty space between my thumb and pointer finger.
"Sounds easy enough," Zav nods, then smiles at Penelope. "Hi, friend. Do I get the pleasure of inking you today?"
Penelope's eyes widen and she hastily shakes her head. "No, no, I'm just here with-- with-"
"No tattoos for her, just me." I save her from more stuttering and Zav puts his hands up in surrender. He winks at Penelope before sitting me in a chair and starting on the stencil.
“So,” Garcia asks over the buzzing of the tattoo gun, “what does this one mean? You've said that all your tattoos mean something. What's this one? And why is it so important that we do it now, after the trial?"
Careful not to disturb Zav's work, I reach into my pocket and pull out Spencer's medallion. I hold it up and show Penelope the compass, and she nods in a confused understanding. "When Spencer was in recovery, he was always told that north is the right way to go and obviously, going the right way is the road to recovery and being clean. Well, he told me that ever since he met me, he considered me to be his north or his reason to go north. I've been wanting this tattoo for a long time. Just never got around to getting it."
"That's really sweet," Penelope whispers, smiling at me. "How much pain are you in?"
"A lot," I answer through gritted teeth. "This one is right on my bone and those are the worst, but it's small so it's fine. It'll be done soon."
As anticipated, the tattoo is done within another few minutes. A compass rose with north labeled. Simple. But it’s beautiful and it’s the perfect reminder of Spencer while he’s gone. Temporarily gone. He’s going to come home. Soon.
He's going to jail. He's going to be sitting in jail for three months and I won't be able to see him, and then after that, he still might go to prison. No matter how much he reminds himself that I'm his north, and no matter how much time I spend at the BAU, no matter how many of his shirts I wear, no matter how many times I visit Diana and Cassie, it means absolutely nothing. The justice system is horrible and I know they have a job to do but why can't they see that my Spencer is innocent? Sure, he broke some protocol but all he was doing was trying to help his mom. It's not his fault that a serial killer was targeting the team and decided to sabotage his trip. He should be at home on bail and he should be searching for Scratch so his name can be cleared.
"Amelia?" Penelope's voice breaks me out of my trance and I notice that Zav has already walked away, probably to the front desk to ring me up. She rests her hand on my shoulder and gives me that same pitiful smile that everyone keeps giving me. "We're gonna get him out. We know he didn't do this."
"I miss him," I admit shakily, eyes locked on my new ink. "I know that I spend all my time at the BAU but everything reminds me of him. When I go home with Jenna, we pass by the cafe that me and him went to almost every day. Whenever I see someone carrying a revolver on tv or in the building, it makes me think of his gun. God, P, whenever I braid my hair, it makes me think of him. I functioned before I met him but with him, I was living and actually enjoying my life for the first time. But now that he's gone again," I look up at her, my lips quivering, "how am I supposed to live?"
Penelope opens her mouth to answer but then closes it again. She drags me into a hug, tighter than any hug we’ve had before. I let her squeeze the life out of me because it’s the only thing that feels similar to the way Spencer scoops me up and hugs me after being away on a case. "I wish I had a good answer. We're all hurting and we're all trying to get through this. As long as we lean on each other and you leave the crime fighting up to us, we'll get through this."
///
I stir awake, bundled up beneath a scratchy, knitted blanket and my head resting on a flat pillow. A yawn escapes my mouth before I even open my eyes, my body begging me to go back to sleep. I blatantly ignore it though, swinging my legs over the side of the couch and yawning again.
"Good morning, sunshine," Jenna comes wandering into her living room, holding out a cup of tea for me, "sleep well?"
I shake my head, sipping the not-well-made tea. "No,” I keep myself from scrunching up my nose at the odd taste, “I didn’t.” 
Jenna gives me a tiny smile as she sits on the couch beside me. "Maybe you should try melatonin. I heard you watching tv at three in the morning." When I don't respond to her really smart and helpful suggestion, she moves on. "How's the tattoo?"
"Itchy," I glance at the covering of my tattoo, then shrug. "It's whatever. I'm used to it. What are you doing today?"
"Well, me and Frankie were gonna go do a shoot today. You should come. You haven't done any shoots in a while. I'm sure Frankie would love your help," Jenna encourages softly.
I shake my head yet again and take the last drink of my tea, then put the mug on the floor. "Thanks but no thanks. I'm gonna go to the BAU today. But I'm gonna shower first. I'll let you know what I'm doing tonight. Thanks for letting me stay here." And without another word, I stand and walk off to the too-bright bathroom.
Going into the BAU used to always be a fun experience. I looked forward to seeing Penelope and lounging around in her lair, and I looked forward to leaving little gifts for Spencer on his desk, and I looked forward to greeting the team when they arrived home from cases. The BAU quickly became like a second home to me when I started dating Spencer and I went there at every chance I could. But now the BAU is a reminder of the situation at hand, and despite the fact that I'm spending so much time here, I wish I didn't have to. The constant reminder is painful. Seeing Spencer’s desk and all of his belongings arranged in the perfect way he needs them to be is maybe the hardest part. Every time I look through the glass doors, my heart breaks a little more.
I've come to learn that seeing the team huddled up and speaking in hushed tones is never a good thing. But it's the first thing I see when the elevator doors open. My eyes are locked on them before I even open the glass doors to the bullpen. Penelope's eyes are wide and she's clinging to Luke's side and everyone is just looking concerned. That's never a good sign. They are federal agents and have seen the worst of the worst. They should be able to have some kind of poker face, no matter the situation. 
JJ is the first to notice me, and when she looks up, she almost grimaces. "Amelia."
Okay. They didn't get a case. This is about Spencer. Something happened with Spencer. Did he get beat up in jail? Did they find more evidence? If they found more evidence, then it's surely not in Spencer's favor. What did they find? What are they hesitant to tell me? Why does everyone look like they’ll burst into tears if I say one wrong word? What the hell happened?
I keep a few feet between me and them, clutching the straps of my backpack, my breath caught in my throat. "What's going on?" I ask, my voice quieter than I expected it to be. "Is Spencer okay?"
The team shares glances and Penelope bows her head, and all the horrible thoughts in my head intensify. Emily clears her throat and my eyes dart over to her. "Spencer," she speaks strongly and confidently, "was transferred to prison this morning."
Spencer likes to put a mountain of sugar in his coffee. Spencer can only fall asleep if he’s read at least two books while lying in bed. And, of course, only after he has received what he deems as a sufficient amount of kisses from me. Spencer prefers to take the train to work instead of driving. Spencer likes to hold my hand when we walk the street. Spencer orders swirled soft serve at every ice cream parlor. Spencer wears purple whenever he gets the chance.
Spencer doesn't fight. Spencer isn't violent. Spencer isn't a criminal. Spencer hates shooting his gun and he wouldn’t even walk around with it on his hip until I told him it didn't bother me. Spencer doesn't resort to violence to solve his problems. He’s the one who puts the violent people where they deserve. Those killers and rapists deserve to be in prison. Not the man who thinks it’s bad luck to wear matching socks. Definitely not the man who mumbles my name in his sleep and whines if he reaches over and I’m not sleeping beside him.
My Spencer doesn't belong in prison.
I'm stunned into silence for a moment and it's almost like I'm waiting for someone to tell me this is a joke. Spencer's not in prison with the worst of the worst. That he's not with the people that he has spent his life hunting and putting away. He isn’t locked inside with people who could be sentenced to life in prison, or in a cell people who will kill him just to have a new pair of shoes, or people who have nothing left to lose.
"He's-" I gulp but my saliva tastes sour and it burns my throat, "he's in prison?"
"There was overcrowding in the jail," Tara explains softly. "I know it's not ideal but-"
"He's-" I cut her off, my voice sharp, "he's in prison? He's in prison with the same people that you guys put away and he's-" my hands fall from my backpack and tears start to fall down cheeks, my eyes darting around until they land on Rossi. "He's with people like my-"
"Why don't you come with me?" Dave cuts me off, stepping forward, holding his arm out for me.
As I break down into sobs, he leads me into his office, sitting me down on a couch as he closes the door. I curl up into myself and cry, and cry, and cry for my boyfriend who is suffering immensely for a crime he didn't commit. He's locked inside a cage with horrible people like my father and he can't escape.
"Amelia, we're gonna get him out," Dave pulls up a chair in front of me, letting out a sigh that doesn't do much to convince me. "We're spending every second we can on his case and searching for evidence that will-"
"He's gonna be in a fucking prison," I sneer, lifting my head, revealing my smudging makeup and tear-stained cheeks, "with people like my father!" Dave sighs again, ducking his head. He doesn't say anything and I don't know what to make of that. "He's gonna be with killers and rapists and abusers and men who kill their wife and son and leave their orphaned daughter to be abused in foster homes!"
"Amelia, I don't know if this will help you at all but, just so you know, serial killers are not held in general population. Serial killers have their own specific wings and they don't get mixed up with the other inmates."
I scoff, staring down at my lap, watching as my tears drip onto my clothes. "Inmates. I guess that's all he is now, right? An inmate?"
"No, Amelia, he's not just another inmate," Dave shakes his head and leans forward, trying to offer me comfort by proximity, but it just makes me feel cramped and overwhelmed. "We're going to get him out of there. I promise."
His promise only makes me cry more. I'd do anything to hear Spencer make another promise to me. I'd do anything just to see him again, but Spencer didn't want me in a jail and I can't imagine he'd want me in a prison. I won't be able to see him, or hear him, or feel him until he gets exonerated. That's going to take days, weeks, months. It could take years.  Could go years without seeing his smile and feeling his touch and listening to him ramble on and on about whatever random factoid surfaces in his brain.
"You should go back to work," I whisper, wiping my cheeks. "Sitting here and watching me cry doesn't help anyone. I'll go somewhere else and worry by myself."
I stand and adjust my backpack, but the whole world just seems wrong. It seems like it's spinning and it feels like I just don't belong here. It feels like I've slipped into a different dimension that I don't belong in. It feels like I should just be able to take a nap and wake up and Spencer will be right next to me, kissing my neck and telling me he has to go to work. I'm waiting for the day that I can experience that again.
///
SPENCER
///
I never thought I'd be in prison. Maybe that's a dumb statement, but it's true. I thought my closest relation to prison would be sending criminals there, occasionally going in to interview inmates, and seldom breaking up riots and breaks. I never thought I'd be forced into blues and shower shoes and thrown into my own cell. I never thought this would become my life. I never thought I'd be sitting out on the prison yard, surveying my fellow inmates and wondering who I should avoid and who I could trust enough to keep me alive long enough for me to return home.
"Sup?" A group of three men I recognize from previously stroll up to me, their hands tucked in their pockets, and that alone makes me more nervous than their confident aura. I rise to my feet when they approach me, not out of obedience, but just because I don't want them to hold too much power over me in height. "Got any bats?"
I furrow my eyebrows in the slightest. "Bats?" Maybe I should've listened to Amelia when she rattled off her slang. Amelia.
"Cigarettes," the same guy clarifies as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, glancing towards his buddy next to him. I fight the urge to jump as the redhead slings his arm over my shoulder, standing uncomfortably close to me. If I wasn't in a prison, I'd rattle off how many germs he passed on to me just by doing that, but I know I'd get beat up for doing so. I keep my mouth shut.
"No, sorry, I don't smoke," it's my honest answer, but I almost instantly regret it. Will they kill me just because I don't have any cigarettes to give them? Is that how it works in here?
"Yeah," that same inmate keeps speaking, "I think I'm gonna quit." But then he narrows his eyes at me and takes a step closer. "You okay, man?"
"Yeah," I answer, but I know my unsure sounding voice has completely betrayed me, "I'm o-okay, thanks."
The third man chuckles and crosses his arms over his chest. "Does he look okay to you?"
The redhead leans in closer to me and it takes all my self control not to cringe. "Looks like he's gonna cry."
"Or wet his pants," the first man laughs, and the other two join in with their own chuckles. "Hey, we're just messing- out of respect, you know? It's all over the yard that you stole from Milos."
I quickly shake my head, finally gaining the confidence to shake the redhead’s arm off of me. Well, if they said they respect me, I might as well. He doesn't put up a fight when I do so. "But I didn't steal from Milos. That was my stuff."
"No," Redhead interrupts, "that was a tribute. Everyone has to pay when they join the group."
I glance between the three of them and they're all stony-faced, but I'm confused. I don't get it. What are they talking about? It's clear to them, but not to me. "What group?" I dare to ask the question.
The third man scoffs yet again. "You're kidding, right? Take a look around. They outnumber us.”
"So we gotta stick together," Redhead goes on, and it all starts to make sense. A gang. They want me to join their gang. Am I gang material? Is this a compliment? Is this some weird, sick, twisted, prison-style compliment? "In here, we're the minority."
They're serious, and it's obvious. There are no chuckles. There are no side eye glances. My profiler skills aren't going off and telling me that they're lying. They're serious. They want me to join a gang.
What would happen if I accept? Does that make me a target by the majority? Will that make the majority look at me and want to take me out? I have to survive three months, at most, in here and that's it. I have to do whatever I need to stay alive for three months, and that's it. But what if I reject them? Will that make me an even bigger target if I say no? Will they take that rejection lightly? I can't imagine they would. Which is the lesser of the two evils? Do I really want to join a gang during my three month prison stay? Would I want to join a gang at all?
"I'm not interested," I say quickly, and attempt to make a quick exit. "Thanks anyway."
Before I can even leave, they catch me. "No, no, no," the first guy shakes his head, his arm now around my shoulders, his jaw clenched, "that's not the way this is gonna go."
"Hey," the third guy interrupts, "Tony-O is over there and he's waiting for us,"
The first guy pats my chest and, thankfully, lets me go. "Okay, my man, we gotta go. But," the three start to back away with devious smiles that I've seen far too many times on psychopaths, "no worries, we'll catch you tonight."
They'll catch me tonight. That can't be good. My eyes follow them as they approach someone else, but when they start chatting like friends, I look away. But then my eyes land on someone I can't look away from because he looks familiar. I know for a fact I didn't see him in the room of cots, but I know I've seen him before.
Ever since the situation in Mexico, my brain has been a little bit slow to react and recall faces and facts, but suddenly, it comes to me. I squint my eyes as a name flashes in my head. Calvin Shaw. He was an FBI agent who killed a criminal agent who was working for a Russian mob. He turned himself in and he's been here ever since, but I studied his case in school and he's become an example at the bureau of what not to do.
He's here? At this prison? And why is he staring at me like that? Does he know who I am? Do I radiate federal agent energy? Amelia talks about people's energy's all the time. Maybe I should've listened to her. I'm realizing that maybe I should have appreciated her more than I did. If I get out of here, I need to lay down all my love for that girl as soon as possible.
The guards blow their whistles and shout for us to line up so they start the process of corralling us back inside. Some inmates are brought back to their cells while others, like me, are brought to rooms with a bunch of cots lined up.
Time takes forever to pass by in prison. There's nothing to do and there's no type of stimulation. I just sit on my bed and try to tune out the chatter surrounding me. I try my hardest not to let my mind wander off to my friends or my girlfriend or my mother because I'll go crazy if I start worrying about them. They're fine without me, I bet.
I sit on my bed with my knees to my chest and guard the box of things I'd fought to get back from another inmate, making sure they don't get stolen yet again. That decision to reclaim my things almost got me killed once and I don't feel like getting in that situation again.
It's nearly impossible to tell what time it is because there are no windows but eventually, a few guards come by to scream at us to shut up. Wilkins looks around as the room falls silent and then informs us that it’s lights out.
My heart starts to pound when the lights go dark and the guards walk away because, despite the darkness, I see three familiar men rise from their cots and stalk over to me. Like on the yard, I rise to my feet just so they don't get too much power over me. I know that I've made the right decision to do so when one man pulls out a makeshift knife he's clearly made from a bed frame or something he smuggled in. The panic and unfiltered fear settle in. My instincts tell me to run, but there is nowhere to go. I don’t have a gun to defend myself, there is no way to talk these men down like I’ve done to others in the past, there’s nothing I can do. I’m all on my own.
One guy smirks, stepping up to me. "It's party time."
The two other men quickly grab my arms and tie my wrists behind my back, then shove a sock in my mouth to keep me quiet and muffle the sounds of me screaming, just so a guard doesn't come in and interrupt. Is that good? Does that mean they're not planning on killing me? They're just going to beat me up?
They start dragging me off, into the connected bathroom and my screams echo even louder off the wall. I'm doing what I can to get out of the grasps of the men but I've never been physically strong. Maybe I should've taken the fit tests more seriously. Maybe I should've gone training when Morgan asked me to go. Maybe I should've taken my life more seriously.
"So," there's another man with a thick accent standing there already, his arms crossed over his chest, "you're too good to be with us? We offer you friendship and what do you do? Spit in our faces."
The redhead tightens his grip on my arm. "Thinks he can survive in here without our help."
"You," the man with the accent grabs the knife, "you need to show some respect," he brings the knife up to my face and traces the blade across my skin. I'm not sure what they're planning on doing to my face but I know it won't feel good.
"Do it," one guy encourages, smirking.
"Back off," there's another voice now, and the four men holding me stop in their tracks, "now." I turn my head to see who my savior is, and it's none other than Calvin Shaw. "Untie him," he says, and the guys behind me quickly do so, and take the sock out of my mouth. "Now get out of here," he tells me and gestures back into the main room. I hesitate, but Calvin gives me a pointed look. "Go on. Go."
I high tail it out of there, my heart pounding harder than it ever has before. I think it could positively burst out of my chest as I return to my cot. It dawns on me now how many people are in this room, and not a single one of them stepped up to help me. Nobody yelled for a guard or helped me fend off the gang or did anything at all.
So I sit down on my cot and I don't even lay down. I don't dare to go to sleep and I barely even blink. I'm even paranoid that, due to the position of my cot, there are people behind me that I can't see. I'm too freaked out. I'm too scared that those men will come back and kill me for real.
I've faced the scariest men and women in the world. I've witnessed things that I never should have and I've talked myself out of horrible situations. I can't escape this. I can't flash my identification or shoot a few bullets and then go home to Amelia. I can't do that. I have to spend every second of my life with my guard up, watching my back at the same time I'm watching my front and my sides just to make sure no one is coming for me. It's day one and I'm already panicked and I'm already lost. I just want to go home.
///
The next two days are like walking on eggshells. I'm constantly watching my back, front, and sides and I'm making sure to keep everyone in front of me at all times. I can't move my cot without risking a fight so I'm barely sleeping at night. I force myself to stay awake to guard myself and protect myself from any possible attacks.
I get to have a talk with Calvin at a time when the cell blocks are open, and he shows nothing but compassion for me. He believes my innocence, shares the story of his sentence, and gives me a book I've never read before. It feels good to have someone I can trust. I can tell he's powerful in this prison, judging by the way he told those gang guys to stop beating me up and they immediately complied. Sitting in his cell is the only time I allowed myself to relax in the slightest.
But that relaxation is short lived because soon the guards are telling us to get back to where we belong. We get cuffed and shoved along to our cells or wherever else, and I get back to my cot. I sit with my knees to my chest and prop my eyes wide open, despite how utterly exhausted I am. I've barely slept in the three days I've been here and I don't know how much longer I can stand this.
"Reid," my name is called by a guard along with a few other names, and we all quickly rise to our feet. "Grab your things and let’s go."
I quickly grab my little bucket of belongings that I've been guarding with my life and hold it close to my chest as I approach the guards. I'm thankful that they don't cuff us as they take us one by one into different blocks.
Wilkins, of course, is gripping my arm harder than he needs to be as he shoves me along a corridor. I keep my eyes forward and no matter how badly I want to see what prisoners I'm walking past, I don't let my eyes wander. I've already seen a guy beat someone else up on the yard just for looking at him and I'm not wanting that to be my future.
"Hold," Wilkins snaps, and I force my feet to freeze in their spot. Then I feel him shoving me inside with, again, more force than needed. "Now get in there." Once I wiggle my way through, not really fitting with the tray I'm holding, Wilkins shouts for the door to close. He gives me another look before stomping away, leaving me all alone in my new home.
I set my tray down on the little table beside me and immediately notice the book on the bed. It's the one that Calvin had told me about yesterday, and I guess he arranged for it to be in my cell.
"Hey," I suddenly hear Calvin's voice from the cell beside mine, "welcome to the neighborhood!"
///
AMELIA
///
I throw my backpack onto the floor of my apartment, locking the door behind me, groaning in pain with every step I take. I dread when I'll eventually have to walk up to my room, but I plan on avoiding it as long as possible.
I start on my walk to the kitchen for a drink, probably a huge glass of wine, but then I stop in my tracks when there's a small, cold breeze against my legs. I shake it off and drag myself into the kitchen. The window is closed and the plants on the windowsill are half dead. Of course, they are. I haven't been home enough to water them.
I grab a wine glass from a cabinet that's far too high for me, definitely placed there by Spencer, and fill it almost to the brim. I toss the entire drink back in seconds and then pour another drink. Once I have my second glass in my hand, I fill a new glass with water and start to feed my dead plants that are probably past the point of return. Once I've quenched the kitchen plants, I move to the bigger one beside the balcony door.
As I approach it, I roll my eyes. I've located the source of the breeze and it's coming from the cracked open balcony door. I’ve left the door open for two days straight. I shake my head at myself and pour the rest of the water into the plant before closing and clicking the lock on the balcony door.
I barely even realize that my hand starts to shake while I pour the water into the plant. I'm blinded by tears that I don't feel coming and something in my mind tells me that the more wine I drink, the less I'll cry. Drink more wine. Drink more wine. So I gulp down the rest of my wine glass and ignore it as my head starts to get fuzzy.
I throw both glasses into the sink and then grab the cracked open wine bottle, taking a long sip. Drink more wine. Drink more wine.
It smells sweet in the kitchen. Did I light a candle? What in the kitchen smells like bubblegum?
My body is moving around the kitchen and through the living room, but my brain is so fuzzy and everything is so blurry that it doesn’t even feel like I’m moving. I feel like I’m floating with my lids drooping closed, hands moving like they’re being told to. I nearly collapse against the couch, but it feels like I’m pulled back up and pushed back to my feet. Drink more wine. You want to drink more wine. 
I grab the bottle and chug down the rest of the contents, my trembling hand dropping it to the ground. I barely even jolt when it shatters at my feet.
The glass, it feels like I have a voice whispering instructions in my ear. Pick up the glass. I fall to my knees and grip a piece of jagged glass in my hand, watching blood come to the surface and stain the clear surface. Tighter. I oblige, watching a drop of blood fall to the floor. A drop stains my jeans. Go to the stairs. 
I toss the glass aside and crawl to the stairs, collapsing at the bottom and dropping my head onto a stair. I bring my knees to my chest, my cries fill the apartment as I slump down, my whole body shaking as I sob. I'm not sure how long it takes me to fall asleep on the staircase, but I do, and the alcohol keeps me asleep the whole night, something I haven't been able to do in a while.
///
"Amelia? Hey, are you here? I hope you are, the door's unlocked."
I whine as I'm roused from my sleep, and as I start to move, I'm expected to be comforted by my duvet. But instead, I go sliding down two steps of my staircase, groaning as I hit my hip. I press the heels of my hands into my eyes as I process the intense pounding in my head.
"Are you-" Penelope comes and stands in front of me, freezing when she sees me, "whoa, you look awful."
I let out a humorless laugh, rolling my eyes. "Gee, thanks."
She observes my surroundings- bloody hand, smudged makeup, messy hair, wrinkled clothes, tear-stained cheeks, sleeping on the stairs. It's not hard to tell what's going on, especially for someone who has been hanging around profilers for over a decade. I'm sure everyone on the team can see that I'm spiraling, and it's obvious to Penelope too.
"How'd you get in?" I ask, shakily pushing myself to my feet and grabbing onto the railing to steady myself.
"Well, I knocked and you didn't answer but the door was unlocked. I came to check up on you because I know you were really upset yesterday. I, well,” she pauses, wringing her hands together, “I'm not really sure what I say but I'm really sorry if I-"
"No," I cut her off, shaking my head, hugging the railing and trying to hide my bloody hand from her view. She looks utterly heartbroken, but I'm not sure what the cause is. If it's because of Spencer or because I lost my cool at the BAU, I'm not sure. "I should be the one apologizing. It was my fault. I overreacted. Um," my eyes wander down to the ground and I ignore the few pieces of random broken glass that have trailed towards the stairs, "I was just kinda upset. Then when Dave was talking to me, he promised that you guys would get him out of prison. Promising was kind of mine and Spencer's thing. Him saying that just made it so much worse."
"O-Oh," Penelope's eyebrows pop up, "I had no idea."
I nod and fall back onto the stairs. "When we first met and he told me he didn't shake hands, I went home and I just thought about how we could do something similar to shaking hands but not actually shaking hands. One of the options I presented to him the next time we saw each other was pinky promising. He liked it and it just stuck. Promising just became our thing." Penelope stares at me, her lips turned downward and her hands laced in front of her, head bowed. “Well, I’m gonna go take a shower. Thanks for checking up on me.”
“Yeah, of course,” Penelope just slightly perks up now, lifting her head and giving me an attempt at a smile. “If you need anything, let me know. And make sure to double check that your door is locked.”
“I will, thanks,” I turn on my heel and start stumbling up the stairs, clinging to the railing for support. My brain is pounding against my skull and I can’t keep a thought in my head for more than a second. My hand is throbbing.
“Hey,” Penelope pauses at the door, looking up at me, “did you light a candle?” I shake my head. “Hmm. It smells like bubblegum in here.” 
TAGLIST
@babybloodstonebones @bxnnywriting @blameitonthenight21 @feralreid @anepiphany @reidscardigan @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @stxrrywildflower​ @penemily​ @whollytaciturn​ @thegingerfairchild​ @yasminwashere​ @shrimpyblog​ @anamelessfacelessnerd​ @wonderlandhatter​ @whxt-to-write​ @inkandexchange​ @just-call-me-non​
14 notes · View notes
eddie-and-richie · 3 years
Text
I Can’t Breathe Without You
Mayward Week 2020
Day 3: “How much of that did you here?” + Angst
I’m so so sorry that this is two days late! I’ve had a rough couple days. I know this doesn’t really count but I wanted to share anyway. I hope you guys enjoy :) Reading and seeing everything that you guys have been posting and creating has given me so much serotonin you don’t even know. This really is the most talented little fandom on the internet: :)
JJ was drowning. He could feel the air being pushed out his lungs, cold water rushing in, all illusions of surviving are gone. His head is pounding, every cell in his body is screaming for oxygen. Screaming for someone to save him. If someone doesn’t grab a hold of him soon the darkness will swallow him whole. JJ is drowning. Only he wasn't underwater. He is standing in the middle of Pope’s bedroom. The word “Breakup” ringing in his ears over and over again, blocking out all other words that escape Pope’s mouth.
He knows Pope is still talking. Probably trying to justify his reasoning behind the declaration but, JJ can’t breathe let alone listen. He’s crying. They both are. Silent tears stream down both of their faces. Pope continues to speak but he doesn’t touch him. He makes no move to comfort JJ. To put his arms around him or wipe his cheeks or anything else that Pope would normally do when JJ was hurting. Then again, Pope had always been the one to cure JJ of his pain, never the one to cause it. Not until now.
“I’m doing this because I love you.” Pope’s voice was strained. He didn’t sound like himself. “I can’t ask you to wait for me J, that’s not fair,” JJ tried to breathe, he needed to form a counter-argument for the million reasons he had for Pope to not do this. “Stop,” Was all he could come up with.
He didn’t know if he meant to stop talking or stop coming up with bullshit reasons that were not and never would make him feel better. He knew he needed Pope, needed him the way people needed air to breathe. Pope was his oxygen. Pope didn’t need him. Not like that. “J I love you so much,” JJ couldn’t take it any longer, he flung himself at Pope because if he didn’t his legs would have given out anyway and he would be on the ground. He buried his face in Pope’s neck, breathing in the familiar scent. Breathing. He could breathe again. “Then stop doing this,” JJ’s voice was muffled.
Pope sobbed into JJ’s hair and held him as close as he possibly could. “I just don’t want you to feel like you have to wait for me. I want you to be able to do whatever you want, with whoever you want,” The words burned his tongue as they came out. The thought of JJ with someone else made his stomach turn, but he knew it was how it had to be.
“My son is a good boy, I never gave him a family and he deserves one,” The words of JJ’s father rang through his ears. He told him about how JJ deserved a pretty wife and cute kids in a normal home. JJ never knew normal. He deserved a happy normal. “All you’re gonna do is ruin my boy's life. Even more than I already did. You’re gonna take away every shot he has of being a real man with a good family.” When Luke Maybank cornered him in the middle of his father's store, just minutes before closing, telling him that he knew what he’d been doing with his son, Pope fully expected to leave in a body bag. He didn’t expect Luke to tell him that he wanted better for his son. That he wanted him to have all the things that he had never given him. All of the things that deep down Pope knew he couldn’t give him either. “If you love him. If you care about him at all, you’ll end it. You’ll leave this island with him on it and never look back. Give him a fighting chance at a good life.”
JJ shook his head and clung to Pope. His bottom lip quivered and a silent sob burned his throat, fighting to escape. Pope fought off every instinct in his body to continue holding onto JJ, to stroke his hair, and kiss away his tears and make all of his pain go away. He couldn’t do that, he was doing this for JJ. “You need to leave J,” Pope whispered, and his grip on the crying boy loosened. “It has to happen now.”
The image of JJ’s heartbroken face lifting off his shoulder was something that would haunt Pope for years to come. JJ’s mouth opened like he wanted to say something but more tears only slipped down his cheeks. He looked at Pope for a few more seconds before running out his bedroom door and slamming it behind him. That was the last time Pope saw JJ for several months.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Pope used almost every excuse in the book to get out of coming home once he started college. The drive was too long to come back on weekends, exams kept him from returning for Thanksgiving, but nothing, no excuse in the world could convince Mama Heyward to not see her baby on Christmas.
It’s not that Pope didn’t want to see his parents, he missed them like crazy. He just wasn’t sure if he could handle running into JJ. He hadn’t seen or heard from him since the breakup and his mind hadn’t stopped thinking about the look on JJ’s face the last time he saw him. College was supposed to be an escape. It was something that Pope had been reaching for since ninth grade, but as soon as he got there it felt like hell. He hadn’t had an appetite in five months and the most he’d really ever sleep was about four hours and that was on a good night.
He missed JJ. He missed waking up with him in his arms and hearing the sound of his laugh. He missed their hour-long talks and stupid inside jokes. He missed everything. He wasn’t sure the day would ever come where he didn’t.
He barely had time to step onto the front porch before his mother wrapped him in her arms hugging him as if he’d just returned from war. “Oh, my sweet baby boy!” She cried “Goodness I missed you so much,” Pope let out a laugh, the best he could with his mother’s arms cutting off most of his oxygen. “I missed you too mama.” He smiled into her hair. He really did miss her. He heard his father laugh and felt a strong familiar hand on his shoulder. “Now honey let the boy breathe.” He told his wife with zero bite in his voice. With that his mother reluctantly let him go and placed her hands on his cheeks, taking him in. His father kissed the top of his head and brought him in for a hug. “We missed you son.” Pope wrapped his arms around his father, embracing the familiar safety of his strong arms. “I missed you Pops.”
“Now your get butt inside and let’s get you something to eat,” Mrs.Heyward put her arm around her son, leading him into the home. “You’re so skinny, baby! Are they even feeding you at that school?” Mr. Heyward scoffed. “They better be feeding him good for what that school costs.” Pope smiled weakly at this. They feed me fine, mama, I just can’t eat.
After practically force-feeding Pope a sandwich, Mrs. Heyward sat across from her son at the kitchen table, demanding to know everything about how college was going. “There’s not really much to tell Mama. When I’m not in class I’m mostly just sitting in my room doing homework.” He knew that this wasn’t what his mother wanted to hear but he was too exhausted to lie to her.
Mrs. Heyward made a solemn face and straightened up in her seat. “Well, you know JJ has been helping your daddy out at Heywards,” She stated in a composed tone while taking a sip of her warm tea. “He’s been doing very good work.” She looked at her son from the corner of her eye.
Pope perked up at the mention of JJ’s name and cleared his throat. “Oh...um...well that’s...that’s really good I’m proud of him.” Pope missed his mother’s knowing smile from over her mug. “Does he um…” Pope scratched the back of his head and looked down at the table, suddenly very interested in the years-old coffee stains. “Does he ever ask about me?” Pope ran his finger around the ring of one of the stains, not meeting his mother’s eyes. “Almost every day.” She replied gently.
Pope couldn’t fight the small smile that formed on his cheeks. The thought that even after hurting him, JJ still cared about Pope. It truly showed what an amazing person he was. “He’s been staying over at the Routledge house the past couple months,” She informed him. “Of course most nights he’s over here,” Pope looked at his mother confused and she chuckled lightly “He’s been keeping me and your daddy company. I told him how much I missed having three people around the table at dinner and you know how sweet he is,” Mrs. Heyward waved her hand in the air and trailed off.
“I’m sorry I haven’t come home more Mama,” Pope whispered, “I promise I’ll start coming back at least once a month.” Mrs. Heyward reached over and placed a comforting hand on her son’s cheek. “What’s the matter, baby?” She asked gently. “What’s been eating you up so much that you won’t come home?”
Pope chewed on the inside of his cheek. He didn’t want to cry in front of his mom. Ever since he was a little boy anytime he cried she did too. She said she “Always felt his pain” he figures she probably did, considering the fact that she always knew the moment something was bothering him. “I just…” Pope let out a deep sigh. “I miss him, Mom,” Tears formed in his eyes. “I miss him so much I can’t stand it. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, half the time I can’t even think.” Mrs. Heyward wiped the tears off of her son’s cheeks. “And so why don’t you tell him that?” She asked calmly.
Pope shook his head. “Because Mom, he deserves better than me. Because he’s the kind of person that eats dinner with his ex’s parents so that they don’t feel lonely,” He sniffed “And I’m the kind of person that breaks the love of my life’s heart with zero explanation.” Pope looked up at his mom “He deserves better than me Mama,” He cried “He deserves a wife and a family and all I want is for him to be happy and I can’t do that for him...I can’t be that for him.”
Mrs. Heyward pulled her son into her arms and rubbed his back soothingly “Baby…” She started before slowly letting go when she looked into the doorway. “Oh...Hi JJ.” She smiled brightly. Pope’s eyes shot open and he instinctively wiped his face and hid behind his mother. “Oh sweetheart I forgot to mention,” She lightly tapped herself on the head. “JJ is joining us for dinner. Isn’t that great?” She smiled behind her at her son who was standing there dumbfounded looking anywhere that wasn’t at the blonde in the doorway.
“Well, I am just going to leave you two boys to catch up,” She began making her way out of the kitchen “I’m sure you two have lots to talk about.” She winked and gave JJ a kiss on the cheek before exiting.
Pope finally looked up to meet JJ’s eyes and he felt like for the first time in five months he could breathe again. “Um...So,” Pope cleared his throat nervously “How much of that did you here?” The two didn’t break eye contact as JJ started walking closer to Pope. “Enough,” He whispered and was now right in front of Pope. Pope could smell him, the wonderful scent of the ocean mixed with body spray and another scent that Pope could only ever really describe as “JJ”.
“I missed you,” Pope whispered and couldn’t stop the tear that trickled down his cheek. JJ instinctively reached up and wiped the tear away. “That makes two of us.” JJ whispered back and his lips parted. “Why did you do that?” JJ knew his voice wasn’t steady as he spoke. “I don’t know I was stupid,” Pope breathed out and the boys instantly closed the gap between them.
They kissed as if the other was oxygen and they hadn’t been able to breathe in months. In truth, they hadn’t. Pope lost his hands in JJ’s hair while JJ wrapped his arms around Pope’s waist pulling his body impossibly close to his own.
“You’re my family,” JJ breathed into Pope’s mouth, not daring to break the kiss. “You’re my everything.” Pope tasted salty tears in his mouth and he wasn’t sure if they were his or JJ’s or both. “I don’t want a fucking wife Pope I want you.” JJ kissed Pope’s tear-soaked cheek “You,” He kissed his other cheek “You,” His nose “You,” His lips. “You ever think about what I want huh?” JJ gripped Pope’s shoulders “I just want you.”
JJ brought his hands up to cup JJ’s cheeks “I’m sorry. I should have talked to you. I’m sorry.” he sobbed and kissed JJ again. They had much more to talk about, much more to discuss. They had problems to work out and months to catch up on, but they had the rest of their lives to do it. Right now all either of them needed was to cling to the other in the middle of the Heyward’s kitchen.
44 notes · View notes