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amistytown · 3 years ago

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The Brothers Comfort MC During a Panic Attack

This is my first attempt at writing down my headcanons for the brothers, so I apologize if anything is out of character. I meant it to be short and sweet, but it grew out of my control after a while. I’m a perfectionist and wanted to rewrite everything. I made minor edits and am posting it anyway or it’ll sit in my drafts forever; I admit I put the most effort into Lucifer’s, forgive me. Also sorry for the repetitiveness and any typos you may find. I decided to write how the brothers would comfort MC during a panic attack, especially as someone who suffers from anxiety and panic attacks themselves. Honestly, I wrote this as a way to comfort myself since I’ve been dealing with terrible anxiety lately. Of course, everyone experiences anxiety differently, so I can only speak from my own experiences. I didn’t go into detail when it comes to the symptoms themselves because it’s from the point of view of the brothers and only so many are visible to the eye. Trigger warning for depictions of anxiety and panic attacks. Thank you for reading!

LUCIFER

Lucifer is troubled. Following lunch, you disappeared, currently absent from class. This is unlike you, his worry intensifying every minute you’re out of his sight. Yet he maintains his composure, resigning himself to scouring the academy grounds. Time passes at a torturous pace, his thoughts beginning to take a turn for the worst. He contemplates whether to involve his brothers and Lord Diavolo himself at this rate, however the sound of his D.D.D diverts his attention. A wave of relief washes over him at the sight of your name lighting up his screen, chased by frustration at you, your silence, and himself for losing track of you so easily; he couldn’t bear living if anything happened to you under his watch. He expects this behavior from his brothers, not you. Though his heart sinks, the Avatar of Pride uncharacteristically overcome with guilt while he reads your message. Of course, you are not his brothers. He should not have doubted you.

Your texts are apprehensive, a weighty pause between them as you hesitate to lay bare the darkest depths of your soul. He approaches you cautiously, to avoid upsetting you further. Your words alone convey the sheer panic taking possession of you, the last of your strength used to press send. Outside he discovers you, huddled miserably in an isolated corner of the building, swathed in shadow. The desire to shelter you from the world burns within him, but your eyes widen fearfully in his presence, wounding his pride. Immediately, you apologize. Sorry you’re missing class, that you left without telling anyone, and upset him—especially when you’re aware of his busy schedule. You’re sorry for not having the courage to pull yourself together, succumbing to your anxiety, your shame palpable. The hand clutching your D.D.D is trembling, your chest heaving as you struggle to breathe. He aches for you, each tear shed hurting more than the last, your pain managing to touch the very core of his being and set him alight.

If anyone is sorry, it’s him, pride be damned. Kneeling in front of you, he assures you an apology isn’t necessary—your wellbeing of great importance to him. He wants you to rely on him, grateful you confided in him despite your doubts. Hopefully, he can eventually put your mind at ease. His voice low, soothing, he continues to console you, making sure you’re aware he’s not upset, and your feelings are valid. Although he’s not familiar with the inner workings of anxiety itself, he’s willing to listen, learning how to support you to the best of his ability—starting today, providing you’re comfortable accepting his offer. Initially, he prioritized your safety for the sake of the exchange program and Lord Diavolo’s wish to unite the three realms, now it’s merely out of adoration for you, his beloved. Once you’re ready, he’ll let you know you’re not alone. He’s never too busy on your behalf.

Offering you his hand, a smile graces his features as you accept. Slowly, he helps you to your feet, steadying you against him. He notes the way you relax at his touch, shoulders sagging and head coming to rest on his chest. Only you exist in this moment, his gaze not leaving you, not even for a second. Standing in silence until your breathing settles and you regain your balance, he sees you through the height of your attack before escorting you back to the House of Lamentation. He’ll personally excuse you from the remainder of your classes, understanding you need a quiet place to recover. Classical music plays softly in the background of his room, and he’s content to have you in his embrace, drawing you onto his lap after you finish the tea he brewed to calm your nerves. Lucifer pays you special attention, massaging your tired body and kissing you tenderly, his breath fanning across your lips as he reminds you how special you truly are—brave, compassionate, and incredibly loved.

MAMMON

Mammon mourns his loss, wondering how he let them gain the upper hand; admittedly, a foolish mistake on his part. He dreads breaking the news to Lucifer, and the resentment that shows on his brothers’ faces once he confesses does little to ease his mind. Still, he worries about your reaction most of all, knowing his stupidity has put you in a precarious position. In that moment he believes their words—only a greedy scumbag like himself dares to place his human’s happiness on the line. Although certain of his win at the time, he should consider how his actions affect you more often; otherwise, how can he claim he’s the Great Mammon? His confidence is his downfall in the end. Now you’ll suffer along with him. Yet you feign optimism, attempting to soothe everything over despite your innocence. His guilt only grows, a heavy weight on his shoulders. One he deserves.

Three days of waiting on and performing for large crowds at The Fall proves hectic for everyone. He can tell you’re struggling beneath the façade of a composed and hospitable server, going above and beyond to ensure the patrons leave satisfied. Furthermore, you lend him and his brothers a hand, coming to their rescue; it should be him making it as easy on you as possible. His concern for you runs deep, no matter how hard he tries to maintain his usual air of indifference, but you have the nerve to reassure him—it’s meant to be the opposite, dammit. Each night he goes out of his way to check on you, frustrated that you continue to dance around the subject. He can see the exhaustion on your face, hear the slight tremor in your voice, the toll his stupid decision is taking on you, and it stung. You comfort him, even when he’s undeserving, so why won’t you allow him to hold you and kiss the pain away? Not that he’s asked. You should realize by now you can rely on him, right?

Watching you suffer in silence tortures him. He can’t deny it regardless of his best effort to make light of the situation. You barely eat or spend time outside your room, saying you’re tired, which isn’t a lie—working is exhausting, no doubt about it—but he understands you well enough to notice the subtle signs of your anxiety, your smile unable to trick him into believing otherwise. Perhaps you find him as insufferable as his brothers do, or worse, and don’t want to see his face after what he’s done. That doesn’t stop him from showing up at your door, hoping he can offer some form of comfort. However, you keep up appearances, supporting the seven of them during the longest weekend of their lives. You work hard too, his chest swelling with pride as he watches you care for his brothers and customers alike. How can you like an idiot like him? You’re selfless and loving, looking past his flaws to see what lay beneath his sin. His human. His angel. He wants—no needs—you to be okay.

The last day comes and goes in a blur. Finally, he can toss these ridiculous clothes and rabbit ears in the trash and never perform that dance again. Better yet, you’re free of his burden, though the guilt remains. He can’t relax until he’s positive you’re okay, knowing he’s genuinely sorry. Standing outside your room, he tries to muster up the courage to open his heart to you—apologies not his strong suit—when he hears you crying. They’re small, muffled sobs that manage to shake him to his core, blood running cold. Yeah, he should knock, but he can’t control himself, throwing the door open without hesitation and rushing to your side. The sight of your tears is almost too much to bear, and he draws you into his embrace, face heating up at his own moment of vulnerability, but this is about you, not him. He can be strong for you too, telling you everything’s going to be okay, that the Great Mammon is here to help.

After his stupidity, you tell him you were afraid to bother him? He can hardly suppress the shock at your confession, the sadness in your eyes breaking his heart. You wanted to make sure it went smoothly for his sake? You suffer through Hell alone because you chose to put his feelings first? Crazy. Though he thanks you, not completely ashamed to admit he’s touched. However, he tells you that you don’t have to put aside your feelings for his benefit; he prefers to be by your side then know you’re having a rough time on your own. He is your first. Taking the initiative, he asks what he can do to make it up to you, no matter how big or small the request is because he’ll do it in a heartbeat. You opt to stay in his arms, burying your face into his chest, and he wipes away your remaining tears, being as gentle as he possibly can. He can feel how tense your body is, your skin unnaturally warm, and it takes a while until you stop shaking. It’s moments like these he’ll tell you how much you mean to him—that he loves you, okay—and he wants you to come to him for everything. He’ll hold you, taking your hand in his, and kiss you with all the adoration in the world because you’re incredibly important to him. Mammon can attest to that.

LEVIATHAN

Leviathan invites you to his room to play video games, a daily routine the two of you have comfortably fallen into. He loves gaming with you, though on occasion you opt to watch instead, thoroughly enthralled by whatever is on the screen. Miraculously, you enjoy listening to him ramble—whether it’s about the game he’s playing, anime he’s watching, or TSL among other things—genuinely showing interest in his passions; he’s incapable of expressing how truly grateful he is for your company. His heart nearly bursts whenever you compliment him on his gaming prowess, encourage him during a particularly intense battle, or merely tell him how you enjoy hanging out. How in the Devildom did a gross otaku like him get so incredibly lucky? He can hardly believe you love him of all demons. The thought alone sounds crazy lmao.

Unable to contain his excitement, he awaits your arrival that night, ensuring everything is perfect when he hears a knock on the door. However, his smile fades the moment he lays eyes on you, mind beginning to race as he wonders why you look miserable, your gaze trained on your hands. Before he can speak, you apologize, dissolving into tears while you return the game he let you borrow. You’re stuttering, completely winded, and he can barely hear you confess to accidentally corrupting his data in your panic. In fact, he loses track of the number of times you choke out a sorry. He treasures his games, his collection extensive, but he cherishes you most of all. The loss is a minor annoyance, nothing that lessens the feelings he harbors for you. Although difficult, he overcomes his insecurities to show you it’s okay—you’re loved.

Not only are you sad, but you’re also terrified, a part of him wanting to destroy the game itself if it means you never have to experience the pain that torments you now. Regarding you carefully, afraid to make matters worse, he reassures you that he’s not upset—far from it, honestly—and that he cares about you more than any game. No stranger to your panic attacks, he reaches out to take your hand in his, hoping you find comfort in what he has to offer. And when you finally glance up, hope shining in your tear-filled eyes, he can’t help but wrap you in his arms. A warmth spreads across his face, heart pounding in his ears, but he knows you need him, allowing his body to relax around yours.

Holding you against him, he tells you everything’s all right, stuttering out how he loves you and, most importantly, wants to you to feel better. Your arms circle around his waist, causing his heart to jump into his throat, but he only pulls you closer. You’re his Henry, and what friend is he if you can’t rely on him? Leviathan is understanding, wanting you to come to him for support at your most vulnerable. Now he puts his knowledge to the test, easing you into his room with continuous words of affirmation. You always know how to console him at his lowest, and he hopes he can return the favor. If anyone deserves to feel loved it’s you, who brought joy into his otherwise bleak world, and he’ll sit with you every day and night if you need him to.

SATAN

Satan knows he shouldn’t be awake, though he finds it difficult to satiate his curiosity as he peruses the books lining his shelves. He barely registers the sound of his D.D.D, reluctant to put the book aside to see who’s messaging him at this ungodly hour; Asmodeus most likely. His tune changes after he sees your name lighting up his screen, his annoyance replaced with worry. He knows you struggle, especially at night, but he can tell you’re hesitant to reach out. Nevertheless, you gradually begin to confide in him, his patience limitless if you’re concerned, and he feels a sense of relief that you choose to trust him at your most vulnerable instead of suffering on your own. Pouring over every book he can locate on anxiety, he studies it religiously, engraining each page into his memory. Not by giving unsolicited advice—he doesn’t want to make that mistake twice—but by comforting you the best he can, even if it simply means to stay by your side, waiting for the panic to pass.

A second later, he appears at your door, gaze softening as your eyes meet. In the darkness of your room, he can tell how exhausted you are. You apologize for bothering him, particularly this late, but he dismisses you with a shake of his head and a reassuring smile, sitting beside you on the bed. It saddens him that you feel the need to, but he’s familiar enough with anxiety by now that he understands how much of a manipulative monster it truly is; if only he can destroy it with his own two hands, strangling the life out of it so it no longer taints that innocent soul of yours. To watch you struggle fills him with a rage that he forces deep within himself, fully aware anger isn’t the answer no matter how great his desire to protect you is. So, he cups your face in his hands, your skin warm beneath his fingers as he strokes your flushed cheeks and presses your foreheads together.

Focus on him, he tells you, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and his voice while he whispers words of love and encouragement. He never tires of letting you know how beautiful and strong you are, that he’s always here for you and loves you—all of you. You unravel in his arms, opening your heart up to him, and he listens intently, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips the moment you look uncertain. You’re not a burden he promises, hoping one day you’ll believe it yourself, but he’ll remind you every chance he gets; forever if he must. It’s worth it in the end, when you relax against him and smile, kissing him in return. Slowly, the anxiety leaves your body, Satan thankful that the waves of panic have receded enough to let you rest your weary mind. He remains next to you, pulling you down to lay your head on his chest and closing your hand in his, entwining your fingers. He’s content here with you, watching you fall asleep and chasing away the nightmares.

ASMODEUS

Asmodeus loves shopping, but he loves shopping with you most of all. The day is bright with you by his side, and he can’t help but buy you clothes and matching accessories to bring out your inherent charm. Your potential is endless, and he gushes over how gorgeous you are, unable to contain his excitement when your cheeks turn a beautiful shade of pink in return. He can hardly control himself around you, gaze fixated on your every movement and heart racing each time you flash him one of the sweetest smiles he’s ever seen; your very soul seeming to shine through and blind him. Nothing prepares him for the love he feels for you, but he considers it a welcome surprise, his desire to grow closer to you intensifying day after day. You captivate him, the Avatar of Lust of all demons. What an exciting turn of events!

Of course, he attracts attention wherever he goes, posing for pictures with adoring fans and basking in the compliments constantly thrown his way; nothing new, but he enjoys it, nonetheless. Who can resist the allure of his very presence? However, anger wells within him at the sight of you being shoved to the side, falling to the ground and lost to the crowd that has gathered. Their words of flattery fall on deaf ears as he rushes to you, throwing a heated glance at the lowly demon who dares to touch his darling human. He desires nothing more than to punish them for such an injustice, but the fear in your eyes tells him otherwise. By the time he scoops you up into his arms you’re trembling from head to toe, and he can feel your heart pounding against him. A part of him places the blame on himself, an unfamiliar feeling, but he chooses to ignore it for now, focusing on getting you home in your worsening state.

In the peace and quiet of his room, he sits you on the bed, wrapping you in his arms as he affectionately runs his fingers through your hair. He can tell you’re upset—in an absolute state of panic by the looks of it—and all he can do is hold you through it, quietly asking what you need and willing to answer your every beck and call if it means that adorable smile graces your features once more. For a moment he considers seeking out Lucifer, worried something has gone terribly wrong, but thankfully you find your voice, mumbling into his chest about anxiety and panic attacks, that you’ll be fine—eventually—and are sorry for ruining your date. He doesn’t understand completely, though he knows you need him, promising to stay by your side for as long as you want. Kissing your cheek, he assures you there’s no need to apologize to him, your safety more important than anything else; the demon who laid his hands on you won’t go without punishment either.

Admitting a bath helps calm you down, he prepares one for you, steam rising from the surface and the heady scent of roses filling the air. Together you slip into the water, enveloped by its warmth, and he hums in contentment as you lean into him, his arms coming to rest around your waist. He watches you carefully, making sure you’re able to relax and preparing himself in case you call on him; he’ll do anything for you if it brings you the happiness you deserve. Your eyes flutter close, Asmodeus showering you with delicate kisses, comforted by the fact your breathing has levelled out and you appear a lot calmer than before. The day didn’t go as planned, and he hopes to make it up to you, vowing that no one else will hurt you on his watch. He loves himself. He loves his brothers. But loves you most of all.

BEELZEBUB

Beelzebub notices you haven’t touched your dinner and is beyond happy the moment you offer your plate to him. Yet he can’t bring himself to enjoy the food in front of him while you excuse yourself from the table, eyes downcast and voice quiet, the usual smile gone from your face and leaving behind an emptiness that rivals his own hunger. His mouth waters at the thought of seconds, but his concern for you grows, and he decides to follow you without question, disregarding the ravenous growl of his stomach. He catches you in the hallway, calling out your name. You turn to him, his brow furrowing in unease at the sight of your tears and the slight tremble of your lip. It hurts him to see you in obvious distress, and he earnestly offers his support.

The only sound is that of your sobbing. He desperately wishes to hold you tightly and rid you of your pain. However, he falters, studying you. Your gaze is trained on the floor, shoulders stiff with tension, and the color drains from your cheeks. When you speak, he’s surprised by how helpless you sound and the fact you’re trying to reassure him, putting his needs above your own although you’re struggling to hold yourself together. Fear flickers across your features at the echo of the brothers’ voices travelling up the stairs, and he mumbles out an apology as he carefully lifts you into his arms, cradling you to his chest.

Before the others can round the corner, he hurries down the hall and slips into your room, determined to protect his vulnerable human. He notices you relax against him, your fingers curling into his shirt, and he can’t help but want to keep you close, relieved after you lean in closer to wrap your arms around his neck. Stroking your hair, he allows you to cry, his patience and love for you endless. Eventually, you mutter an embarrassed sorry, thanking him profusely, but he’s merely relieved you’re beginning to feel a bit better, reassuring you that you can always depend on him.

Listening to you intently, he never breaks eye contact. You open up to him about your anxiety, his stomach twisting as you describe what you call a panic attack and how it wrecks you both mentally and physically. Beelzebub knows he has a lot to learn, but he expresses interest in understanding anxiety and, most importantly, how he can help you, so you don’t suffer alone. For the rest of the night, he keeps you company and eases you through the remainder of your attack, giving you plenty of hugs and rubbing your back in soothing circles until you no longer shake, and your heartbeat returns to its usual pace.

BELPHEGOR

Belphegor enjoys the time you spend together, especially when the two of you are alone. He asks you to accompany him in the attic, and it’s not long before he curls around you, falling into a peaceful sleep as he listens to the steady beat of your heart. However, when he awakes it’s to the sound of your soft cries in the dark, which fill him with a fear he can’t seem to shake. Without hesitation he’s at your side, sitting up to softly place a hand on your shoulder and ask you what’s wrong. The sadness in your eyes as you glance up at him, tears staining your cheeks, tugs at his heartstrings. He can’t bear to see you upset.

Once he realizes you’re having a panic attack, he’s attentive to your needs, cradling you in his arms as you cry into his chest. You confided in him about your struggles with anxiety after you fell to pieces in front of him months ago. A part of him understands, the loss of Lilith haunting him throughout the years and instilling a similar feeling of unease within him, especially when his nightmares seem to blur the line between reality and the painful memories of his past. You always came to his rescue and now it’s his turn to comfort you in your time of need. Sleep can wait.

With you in his embrace, he brings you down to relax against the pillows, pulling the blanket around your shivering form. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he gently brushes the remaining tears from your face, whispering words of love and reassurance. He listens to you when you’re comfortable to talk, the slight tremble of your voice causing him to draw you closer and press a kiss to your forehead. Belphegor tells you he’s here for you—forever—and although he’s still learning about anxiety and finding the best ways to comfort you during an attack, he wants you to depend on him no matter what. Even if that means you wake him up in the middle of the night. He won’t rest until he knows you’re okay, and you’re peacefully sleeping in his arms.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me mc #obey me reader #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me scenarios #my writing

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diavolosthots · 4 years ago

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A lot of hcs have the brothers reacting with violence against any demon that hurts mc- how do you think they’d respond if mc was like.. REALLY uncomfortable with that? Either bc mc thinks that the demon should have a chance to learn from their mistake, or bc they’re scared when the bros lash out like that, or whatever reason.

God i love the violent protective headcanons so much because it truly captures their demonic natures and, in my opinion, how demons are with their chosen mates buuuttttttttt..... Yeah i can see how some people are uncomfortable with that

Warning: mentions of violent thoughts/some like... Tight gripping, but no actual, full on violence

THE BROTHERS reacting to MC being hurt by a demon and wanting them to have a second chance/being scared (??? Idk that’s the title I came up with, fight me later if it doesn’t make sense now.)

Lucifer:

His first instinct is always, and will always be, to protect you. In his eyes, you’re still this small, fragile, innocent human being, even if you’re not. Even if you’re his height and bench as much as Beelzebub physically, you’re still not a match for a demon and he hates to think that one could get too close, and then it happens. Obviously, he’s full on demon form and ready to teach someone a lesson, but then you stop him, and he’s confused. “Don’t worry Darling, I will handle them.” What’s that? You don’t want him to handle them? Are you out of your mind? “MC they hurt you and they shall pay the price.” A second chance? Do you know what demons are? Look, now the demon is laughing! But… for your sake, Lucifer is backing down. For now.

“If they do it again, I won’t hesitate MC; this is for your safety. Demons don’t usually change for the better. No, you can not use me as an example.”

Mammon:

Here’s the thing: chances are, Mammon would talk way more than he would actually fight, anyway. He’d go on a whole speech about how you’re his and he’s there to protect you and how you will never have to worry about anything with him around. Then that demon would get the same lecture and honestly, he’s probably going to bore the demon to death more than anything so you, realistically, don’t have to worry about him being violent, anyway, UNLESS the demon swings at him first because then it’s okay and sorry MC, but this got a little too personal. Just one punch, okay? And then he’ll literally grab you and run for it because even Mammon knows he won’t last long.

“Listen this ain’t cuz yer scared or I’m scared. This is cuz I can’t let ya get hurt!.... Again!” (Spoiler: it’s because he won’t last long due to his constant worry about you)

Leviathan:

Hold up. Wait a minute. You’re telling him that, after everything he’s been through, everything he’s done, every rough path he had to take to get you, you’re telling him now that he can’t protect you because this lowlife scum deserves a SECOND CHANCE?! Give him a moment, he needs to calm down. Not only is he jealous because someone else managed to get their hands on you but also, “MC are you stupid?! They hurt you!” Like, he genuinely thinks you’re insane. But then he also immediately feels bad for calling you stupid and he’s having a mental debate on what’s more important: avenging you and being a lowkey hero, or giving into your wish and making you happy…. “Ugh….Fine! Fine… but you’re not going anywhere alone ever again!” And also…. He might’ve, totally, tripped that demon with his tail as he takes you back home. Just enough for them to faceplant. No actual violence.

“They deserved that much…. What? I didn’t do it…..!” Yes he did.

Satan:

Oof. Anger. Rage. Wrath. Fire. It’s all inside of him and he is, quite literally, fuming. His demon form suddenly feels too tight and he wishes he could emerge into his full form without actually causing you to have a heart attack. You’re practically begging him to calm down, “calm down?!” And he’s having none of it. Someone touched what was his and they hurt you doing that, “S-Satan…” but your voice is scared and laced with fear and although he thinks it’s because of the demon at first, “Don’t worry, this worthless excuse of a life won’t be here much longer,” he soon realizes it’s actually he that is scaring you and it catches him off guard. Why are you scared? He’s protecting you! It hurts his heart, though, to see you be so afraid of them and he’s mentally battling himself. He can’t let them get away with this; it would go against his own personal morals and beliefs, but also…

“Let’s… let’s go home… I’ll make some hot chocolate for you and we can… calm down.”

Asmodeus:

He tries to avoid conflict as much as possible, half because he doesn’t want to get his hands dirty, and half because he doesn’t like it. If anyone deserves to be a drama queen, it’s him, not anyone else. So you telling him, as he’s about to fight for the first time in a couple millennia, to please not… kind of sets him at ease. “Are you sure?” but he also needs to make sure that this is exactly what you want. He doesn’t like it, of course, because he does firmly believe people deserve to be held accountable for their actions, but he would hate to see you upset with him when he could just…

“don’t forget to put facial cleanser on tonight and drink water. Your ugliness needs to be washed off and your soul could use some hydration. Hatred out, flowers in!”

Beelzebub:

Oh he’s ready to not only throw hands, he’s ready to tear someone apart. Angry Beel is a scary Beel and he takes a sense of… pride when people fear him, but only if they SHOULD fear him, you know? Laying hands on you is a BIG no no and he won’t treat it lightly. Whatever your relationship with him may be, he protects the people he cares about and his fist is pulling back way too quickly for you to say stop “Beel!” but you’re scared and he halts because he can hear it in your voice and immediately pauses, turning to look at you. He still has a tight grip on them and he’s still ready to tear them to pieces, but you’re also trembling now and his wings slowly lower, thinking he had done something wrong. “I’m… sorry….” stop? You want him to stop? He doesn’t like that… “What if they hurt you again? I can’t let that happen….” he can’t, in good conscience he can’t…..

“You’re off the hook for now, but let me catch you near MC again and there’s nothing you will be able to do but tell your little life goodbye.”

Belphegor:

Look, MAYBE he’s being a little hypocritical right now, okay? Yeah he totally kind of did the same thing to you but that’s exactly why he’s doing better now! He realizes how wrong he was and how he should’ve never done that, you know, all that good 180 degree turn around stuff, but also??? How dare someone else do that??? “I’m not letting them go MC. Not until they have paid. And you just have to stand there and watch as Belphegor jokes them with his tail and for a while that may work BUT…. he hates the look you gave him when he turns back toward you. It breaks his heart, although he would only reluctantly admit that, so he drops them to the ground and looks at you a bit ashamed. “Fine… I won’t… not today…” and you’re lucky he’s lazy and that tail-lift already took a lot out of him. “But it can’t happen again. I won’t be this nice next time MC.” ain’t no one allowed to mess with you!

“Just because I made a mistake doesn’t mean you can. Run before I decide to squash you anyway.”

#obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #cheys headcanons #asmodeus obey me #belphegor obey me #mammon obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #mentions of violence

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inhuman-obey-me · 4 years ago

Text

Payback's a Murder

Word Count: 2k Description: Mammon may be the Avatar of Greed and may constantly try to con his brothers, but others who try to do the same will find themselves at the wrong end of his murder. Part of the A Demon's Nature series. Finally got back to this, so here we go with Mammon's turn! Note: Mulciber is a demon mentioned in John Milton's Paradise Lost. He served under Mammon and was an architect. Can also be found on AO3 here. content warning: blood, body horror, torture via the sharp ends of birds

The Avatar of Greed often found himself in trouble, whether it be because he stole personal belongings to sell or tried to cheat someone out of cash or … well, there were a lot of ways. Call him reckless, but when he saw an opportunity to make some cold, hard Grimm, he wasn’t about to pass it up!

But if someone tried to cheat him out of something? That wouldn’t do. Few dared to try it if they knew just who they were dealing with, but that didn’t stop some from trying anyway. They always regretted it afterwards.

The real issue, however, was if someone tried to cheat his brothers out of something. After all, he was the only one allowed to rip them off (that was his justification, anyway). The moment he finds out someone else tried to play confidence demon with any of them, it was a one-way ticket to the Great Mammon’s Beatdown Extravaganza.

He was walking by Leviathan’s room earlier when he heard a loud crash, some swearing, and a slight rumble under his feet. After some door breaking, tackling, and forcing his hotheaded brother to not summon Lotan, he found out what had made him so upset. Apparently, there was some demon running around with elaborate schemes swindling others -- well, nerds -- out of their money. He went on to explain something that Mammon did not at all understand -- as was usual when he got into his otaku rambling. If his brother had not been so upset, Mammon would have commended the guy for knowing how to target and hit a jackpot.

After some additional pestering, Mammon managed to get a rough description of this third-rate demon and realized he had a pretty good idea of just who it was. It was someone far closer to him than he’d like to admit.

So now here he was, leaning against the bar at one of the Devildom’s many clubs, drink in hand as he monitors the floor. If he was right, he would see the other cozening demon somewhere here tonight, so now it was just a waiting game. As Lucifer had told him repeatedly, You have to show that you’re Number Two. He planned to make that very clear tonight.

He felt the pulse of the bass vibrating through his body as the DJ amped up their music, more and more demons flowing into the space as the prime clubbing hours arrived. A few who noticed Mammon acknowledged his presence, some whispering about how he seemed to look way more serious than normal. The Avatar of Greed, not partying the night away already? Strange.

His patience was just about to run out when he caught a glimpse of just the demon he was seeking out. Hair as orange as a flame, he wasn’t too hard to spot amongst the crowd of more muted succubi surrounding him. Mammon downed the rest of his drink in one go, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket as he made his way to his target.

“Mulciber. Already getting started, huh?”

“M-Mammon?!” He seemed startled to see the other, but cleared his throat as he regained his cool composure. “It’s good to see you, man! Why don’t you join us all for a drink?” The succubi around him giggled, one daring to lean towards Mammon in an attempt to latch onto his arm, but he quickly placed a hand up to stop her.

“No touchin’, sweetheart.” He shot her a look that made her immediately back away, a pout on her lips. “And that’s a nice offer, Mulcey, but I was hopin’ I could talk to ya real quick in private.”

Mulciber could tell that no was not an option in this conversation, given the serious look in the Avatar’s eyes. “Oh, uh, sure. Sorry ladies, I’ll be back soon. Gotta take care of business!” He gave them a wink as they continued on to the table for their party. Clearing his throat again, he turned back to his superior. “So, what’s shaking, boss?”

Mammon just gave him a smile before nodding his head towards a side door, motioning to accompany him there. The lesser demon complied, following him outside to a side alley. The night air was brisk, causing a shudder to run through Mulciber’s spine. At least, he hoped it was the weather that was making him feel like this …

“I heard ya got up to another scheme.” Mammon fiddled with a lighter, flipping the top off and on with his thumb and a jerk of his hand as he spoke. Click, click, click, click. “Wanna tell me about it?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, totally!” Mulciber nervously replied, wondering why Mammon seemed so interested. Did he want a cut of the check? Fishing for ideas for his own next get-rich-quick scheme? Or --

Oh.

Oh no.

He suddenly remembered that one of the victims of his scheming had been the very Avatar of Envy. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, delighting in the fact that he was even able to rip off a Greater Demon. Meant his plan had to be pretty genius, right? But now … now he was starting to realize that he may have just made a big mistake.

“Hm? Ya haven’t said a word, Mulcey-boy.” Mammon turned to face him, tucking the lighter into his pocket. He took a step towards the other, who immediately took a step back -- only to be met with a hard brick wall. “Or didja have a moment of realization?”

“L-Listen, Mammon, I’m sorry! I didn’t know at the time, I swear!” Mulciber brought both his hands up, as if that would stop the other from approaching him.

“Oh? ‘Cuz your face says differently, buddy.” He bared his fangs, the usual gradient in his eyes now glowing a furious gold. There’s a malicious grin on his face as he takes a step back, and then he begins to … whistle?

Mulciber does not like where this is going. He’s heard that tune before and it makes his hairs stand on end. “Look, man, please, I’ll do whatever I have to do to make it up to you!” There’s already desperation in his voice, which almost makes Mammon laugh.

“Glad to hear it. Then ya won’t have a problem with what’s about to happen next, yeah?”

It starts in the distance, a noise that made it feel as if your eardrums were being pierced by a thousand shards of glass. It grows louder and louder, closer and closer. An omen.

Mulciber shrinks against the wall, his grey eyes wide in fear. He knows running is pointless -- the other demon would quickly catch him, and leave him even worse for wear as repercussion. “P-please, Mammon, sir, don’t do this … “

“Didn’t you just say ya’d do whatever ya have to do?” Mammon shakes his head, his wings stretching out wide as if to entrap the lesser demon where he stood. “And you really think suddenly pullin’ out the formalities is gonna get ya any mercy here?”

The flapping of numerous wings now filled the air, a large murder of crows circling in the dark sky above. Their bone-chilling caws and cries rain down upon them as the birds eagerly await their master’s command.

Mammon lunged forward and grasped the other’s jaw, his claws digging into flesh as he brought his face threateningly close. “Pretty ballsy of you to think messin’ with any of us was the right move.” He growled, a rumble in his throat. “Looks like someone needs remindin’ of his place.”

“I-I wasn’t thinkin’ at the time! C’mon, you know how that is, don’t you? I was just thinking of making some big bucks, I didn’t mean to go and step out of line--” Mulciber frantically rambled, trying to ignore the searing pain he was feeling from Mammon’s grip.

“I’m sure that was the case, Mulcey, sure!” If it wasn’t for his mocking smile, the Avatar would have nearly sounded genuine. “But that doesn’t mean you can escape the consequences, ya’know?” He let out a tsk, watching as blood dripped from where he had pierced the other’s skin.

He let go of Mulciber, taking a few steps back as he shook his hand as if to clean it of the ichor. There was no denying the glee he was feeling from this -- it had been a while since he decided to flex his abilities and powers on another. Looking up to the sky, he whistled out another tune, causing the crows to descend.

“He’s all yours.” He commands them in a language only they could understand, and in a flash the black-feathered birds rush in to attack. Their squawks mix with Mulciber’s shrieks as they begin to peck at him with their beaks and scratch him with their claws. Mammon fishes out the lighter from his pocket once more, grabbing a cigarette from the box he had on him with his other hand. Leaning against the opposing alley wall, he lights up and takes a slow drag, watching as the flurry of feathers pulverize his inferior.

The crows tear at Mulciber’s flesh, their sharp beaks riddling his body with small cavities and painting him with his own blood. He continues to cry and scream, though it’s obvious he’s losing energy by the second as they grow weaker in intensity, his body slumping towards the ground. Perhaps he had learned his lesson? Surely, he’s just waiting for it all to stop now, right?

Mammon takes a glance around, humming in delight as he catches sight of a discarded iron pipe. He drops the remains of his cigarette to the ground, stomping it out before retrieving his now makeshift weapon. It feels cool and light in his hand, and he gives it a small toss in the air before catching it again with a satisfied smile.

“Alright, alright. You all can leave him alone now.” Mammon commands his murder once more, followed by another whistle to let them know they could go back to doing whatever they were doing before now. One of them flew over to Mammon, perching on the metal rod in his hand, looking up at him with a puffed up chest in pride as blood stained its beak.

“Yes, who’s my good lil’ birdie?” Mammon cooed, scratching the crow under its chin. “Go get yerself cleaned up, okay?” It cawed in delight before flying off to join the rest, who were fading back into the dark night sky. The Avatar of Greed shook his head fondly before turning his attention back to the matter at hand.

Mulciber lay crumpled on the ground, though was making efforts to sit upright as he gasped for breath. His body hurt all over, as if every inch of him had been pierced with needles. He feebly looked up to meet Mammon’s gaze, a whimper leaving him as he noticed the rod in his hand.

“What? I couldn’t let my birds have all the fun, now could I?” Mammon grasped the rod firmly in both hands before swinging it down with a deafening crack as it hit the other, who let out another sharp cry of pain.

“Hm, perhaps just another for good measure.” Whack. Another wail.

“Okay, okay. One more.” Whack. Another splatter of blood.

Content at the shuddering and sniveling mass that was left, Mammon kneeled down to get close to Mulciber’s ear, his next words full of menace. “Ya really should have stuck to the building business. Keep that in mind in the future, ‘kay?”

Mammon stood up and let the iron rod clatter to the ground, its hollowness ringing into the night. He made his way back inside to order another drink, ignoring the whispers and stares from the others in the club. It was doubtful that Mulciber would make an appearance here after what had happened for a while.

He knocked on the bar counter, getting the attention of the bartender. “Give me a glass of your finest whiskey. Put it on Mulciber’s tab.”

#obey me #obey me!#obey me swd #obey me mammon #om! mammon #obey me fics #demons being demons #series: a demon's nature #writings #the all encompassing [mod] cosmos #a side of mammon I would like to see more <3

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sol-korolevas · 4 years ago

Text

—warmth, or the absence of

—the darkling x reader; light mention of drinking; not edited

—asdfghjkl a hundred years later i finally wrote something

—love; for @tater-tati

You know that sometimes, what you want and need could never be yours. You learned it first as a child when you spot a stray cat in the streets of Keramzin. Your mother pulled you away after you pointed at it.

The second time, you wanted a jacket that was on display in the market district of Os Alta. But after you asked for the price tag, you realized you could never afford such a beautiful piece of fabric. And it wasn’t like you’ll wear it all the time anyway. Your parents had everything you needed back home.

The third time came in the form of a person. Dressed in black, with the darkest eyes you ever saw. He acknowledged you and your fellow soldiers with a cool gaze. And for the briefest second, his eyes met yours. In that moment, you swore you’ll never give him up.

One day, he’ll be yours and you, his.

But you never had any luck with getting what you wanted, did you?

Her name was Alina Starkov. A sweet girl, perhaps a bit naive, but you didn’t mind her. The general assigned you to keep watch over her. Fair enough. And you felt a sense of pride when Kirigan personally told you. It meant something - a progression of relationship. Your smile was obvious and there was an extra something in your step.

“Someone’s happy,” Alina remarked as you trailed after you. “What happened?”

“A dream come true,” you told her. It was a bit cryptic, but that was all you could muster. If Alina prob further, you imagined that you’d actually tell her.

Your heart felt like it might combust. Any day now - no, any time now - you would be able to move further and further close to Kirigan.

What did his hands felt like? Was it scarred and rough like Ivan’s? Or was it soft and smooth like you hoped?

Was he a good hugger, or a good kisser? The young Grisha students always spoke of how Kirigan must’ve had a secret lover or two before. They said Kirigan only liked those who are loyal to him.

You could be that, you knew. You could be that and more.

Except, bad luck followed where ever you went.

It came with a sudden noise in the general’s room. Alina had gone inside with him after the winter fete. You heard nothing so they must’ve been talking softly to each other. There were rumors of them whispered among your fellow oprichniki, but you waved them off as just that - rumors.

The first mistake you made was cracking the door open and saw Kirigan kissing Alina. The second mistake was making a noise before shutting the door. The third—

The third came later.

For now, you were running away, head light, and eyes dazed. Your chest hurts, it felt as if something cracked from the inside. It was a feeling worse than a sickness. And with each passing second, the pain festered worse and worse.

You stumbled into the common area where a few of your friends were playing cards. They called your name but you ignored them as you staggered to your bunk bed.

There were no Ravkan whiskey served to Kirigan’s personal guards. But a few of the new initiates snuck in some and hid them under the lower bunk beds. You salvaged a few and drank. Drank until you couldn’t tell the top from bottom. And then you slept.

Someone woke you, told you that you should go see the general in his war room.

They couldn’t see the drunkenness of your state. And you were too senseless to stop yourself from going. Besides, the general was your superior - you had to go even if you were dying.

In the war room stood Kirigan and you.

He had his hands clasped behind his back and a grim expression on his face. Your world tips and shakes and you almost fall. But before you do, something stopped you. Your throat bobbed when something soft and warm slid up your cheek.

“Drinking again?” a smooth voice asked.

Kirigan.

You looked up and noticed his dark eyes on your face. It was inscrutable, but you could see the coldness in those gaze. His body kept yours from falling as he steered you into the room.

Normally, your body would be alight with excitement and your mind buzzing with delight. Right now, however, you only trembled and you wanted to cry.

You love him.

And despite all rational thoughts telling you no, you grasped his kefta with your fingers.

Kirigan didn’t push you off. In fact, he pressed you closer. “This is unbecoming of you, [Name].” His voice was soft. “What happened to the soldier I adore?”

A part of you sang with the word he said. But another, the deep and dark part of you, told you he was lying.

“I’m sorry, General,” you said. “I-I was drinking.”

He chuckled, a deep and rich voice that you wanted to bottle up. “Best get sober before your mission. It’s important, because you’ll be retrieving Alina Starkov.”

You looked up. Kirigan wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t unhappy either. That’s the thing about him - he hardly kept his face from showing what he’s thinking. Nobody could read him well, not even you.

The scene you saw hours ago rose within your memory. You may be drunk but you remembered. How closely they held one another. And how terrifying it was for you to realize your friend was kissing the one man you wanted.

“[Name].” Kirigan brought a hand up to stroke your cheek, his other arm wound around your waist. “Do this for me, won’t you?” His face was closer. You could see the pink of his lips.

Your mouth felt dry.

“A-Alright,” you said.

You love him.

“Bring my sun summoner back in one piece.” His finger touched your lower lip, lightly peeling it back.

You nodded, eyes wide and face stiff.

“Make sure everyone is with her are dead.” Kirigan replaced his finger with his lips, warm and inviting. But then he took your lower lip in between his teeth and bit down. The pain caused you to struggle, but his grip around you was firm. Eventually, you grew pliant and you let him taste you.

It was what you wanted. You might be drunk, but you were conscious enough to know you wanted this.

“I’ll make you happy, General,” you said, just as his hold loosened and his mouth parted from yours. There was a glint in his eyes, but you couldn’t tell what it was. Instead of thinking more about that, you smiled.

“That’s right,” Kirigan replied. “You always make me happy, [Name].”

#the darkling x reader #general kirigan x reader #the darkling #general kirigan #shadow and bone

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empressapprentice · 3 years ago

Text

Arcana Headcanons: Infidelity + M6

I’m back with more headcanons, and will be sharing even more soon as I have more free time! My last batch was super sweet and fluffy, these are decidedly not. I’m doing these headcanons as character study exercises, and since the LIs are so devoted to you in-game, I wanted to think about what could possibly motivate them to cheat. Not all of these involve sex because I thought that certain characters would consider emotional interactions cheating on their partner. But warning for non-explicit sexual content for several of the M6--I’d say this is PG-13. These are kind of long, but I felt I needed some good exposition to set things up. I hate how much I enjoy angst :( Feedback and requests are always welcomed: if you hate it or love it, let me know why so I can improve! Plus, check out my Ao3 here, where I’ll be posting these as well.

Asra

Asra will never, ever regret giving up half his heart for you. But one night, he can’t sleep, feeling regret for the friendships and relationships he missed out on because it’s so difficult to form connections with others. He wishes that while he waited for you to recover from the resurrection, he’d been able to let others into his life.

He’s slept with people other than you (Julian, for one), but not since you woke up after the ritual. He realizes that he can’t remember any of his previous encounters. He completely forgot what anyone other than you feels like to hold and to touch.

The next day, he tells you that he wants to take a quick overnight trip to Nopal. With such late notice, you can’t tag along. He just wants to spend some time alone and actually get to know the villagers for once, intending to practice his social skills and break the cycle of isolation he unintentionally maintained with the people there.

When he sits around the fire, eating and sharing stories with the villagers, a handsome young man approaches him. He says that he’s always had a crush on the mysterious magician, but could tell that Asra was never open to getting to know anyone. Asra, remembering that he doesn’t know what it’s like to be close to someone else, starts flirting back. Before he knows it, his lips are brushing against the stranger’s.

The moment their lips meet, Asra pulls back sharply, overcome with guilt for betraying your trust. He shakily apologizes to the young man, saying he didn’t know what came over him. He runs back to his hut, gets on the Beast and travels back to Vesuvia as fast as possible. Faust comforts him as he sobs silently, thinking about never wanting to leave your arms again.

Nadia

Nadia is visiting a neighboring territory and sitting through a very, very boring dinner with dignitaries. She’s been away from Vesuvia for a week and anticipates having to stay for at least one more as negotiations drag on. She’s loath to admit it, but she’s lonely. The letters you’ve exchanged via Chandra only make the separation more painful.

So when a diplomat approaches her with questions about Vesuvia, she’s happy to have some company. She clearly admires Nadia quite a bit and compliments the work she’s done to turn Vesuvia around.

While basking in her companion’s kind words, she unconsciously moves closer to the other woman. It doesn’t take long for the conversation to become personal, moving away from professional networking. And even more quickly, the conversation becomes flirty. When Nadia moves her hand to touch the other woman, her intentions are clear. The diplomat is flattered, but hesitant, asking, “Aren’t you married?”

Nadia is momentarily stunned by the question, but refuses to lose her composure. The lie comes easily, from years of schmoozing fellow politicians. She replies that her marriage is open. The diplomat smiles, unaware of the shame pooling in Nadia’s core. She sheepishly invites the Countess back to her room.

Though the dinner is long over and the party moved into the sitting room for a digestif, many having already left, Nadia finds herself worried how it would look for the two of them to leave together. She hates herself for worrying more about appearances than you, but she’s been particularly hungry for the feel of a body next to her in bed and she’s frustrated at not being able to get what she wants for once. So, she agrees.

She excuses herself, saying that she must retire for the night, and waits a few moments for the diplomat to leave as well.

Nadia excuses herself after the shameful act, saying she must be in her own bed when servants come to wake her in the morning. She spends the rest of the night staring at her ceiling, vowing to never tell you about her indiscretion. You find out, of course, knowing your wife too well for her to hide that something’s wrong.

Julian

One night, he goes to the Rowdy Raven and is mid-tankard of Salty Bitters while animatedly telling the story of how he helped defeat the Devil. When he finishes weaving the tale, he heads back to the bar to another drink. Before he can get his coin purse to pay, an extremely attractive stranger tells Barth to put it on their tab--payment for the entertaining story.

Julian gratefully accepts, sliding into a seat to chat with the stranger. Whether consciously or unconsciously, Julian turns his charm up even more, wanting to make sure he keeps them entertained. They swap introductions, Julian’s natural tendency to call people affectionate names and his rakish attitude being interpreted as flirtation.

As the stranger returns the affection, Julian realizes what’s happening but doesn’t want to stop it. He’s practically glowing from the kind words flowing from the mouth of his new friend and is addicted to the feeling. A nagging voice tells him he should get back home to you, but it is quieted when the stranger moves closer to him, running a finger over his chest.

The stranger downs their drink and gets up abruptly. They tell Julian to finish his drink and meet them in the alley outside, with a cheeky comment about seeing what else his mouth could do thrown over their shoulder as they walk out the back of the tavern.

Julian’s breath catches at the thought of a clandestine alleyway quickie, and he can’t deny how appealing the idea seems to him. He stares at the drink remaining in his glass, fighting a mental war over whether to finish it quickly and run to the alley.

Barth approaches Julian, noticing he was about to finish his latest drink and anticipating a request for a refill. While waiting for Julian to finish, he makes light conversation with him. When he asks how you are doing, Julian bolts upright. His face reddens at the mention of your name, knowing he made a grave mistake even considering the stranger’s offer.

Julian leaves the rest of his drink untouched. He awkwardly gets up, says goodnight to Barth and hopes that he won’t run into the stranger when he exits the Raven out the front door. Mercifully, he doesn’t, but he might not have even noticed, he was so focused on getting back to you.

When he reaches the front door of the place you share, he’s sobbing. Even though it’s late, you are waiting up for him, knowing that he often needs you to offer him water and get him to eat some food after a night out. He falls on his knees before you, utterly broken by the kindness of you waiting to take care of him, and begs you to listen to him one last time. He tells you, again, that he is no good for you and it is inevitable he will break your heart. He confesses everything that happened at the bar, his voice breaking when he says how close he was to cheating on you. He admits in a small voice that he will never be worthy of you--despite all he’s changed, he’s always one step away from hurting you.

Lucio

Lucio is dressed in a new outfit, finely made and very flattering. He is about to attend a party at his estate in honor of the summer solstice. The last step in his pre-party ritual before joining you and making a grand entrance fashionably late is to admire himself in the mirror. He poses and struts in front of it, hyping himself up for the night, but stopping short as he notices a grey hair in his meticulously coiffed style.

Moving closer to the mirror, he is horrified that several other grey hairs have popped out since the last time he dyed his hair, not long ago. Stepping back, he frantically tries to change the style to hide them, shrieking as he realizes the wrinkles on his forehead are deeper than he remembers. The time-honored ritual, which has never failed to put him in the right mindset for a night of socialization, has only made him more self-conscious about his age than ever.

He starts pacing around his room, heels clicking and mind racing. He feels a strange sense of longing for his old life, when he had no responsibilities and never worried about the consequences of his actions. He’s old now, and he wishes for the freedom and stupidity of youth.

When he makes the grand entrance with you at the party, his heart isn’t really in it. He immediately heads for a servant, demanding a glass of hard liquor instead of his usual sparkling wine. One glass turns into several, and it’s not long before he’s very intoxicated. You see Lucio drinking more than usual, but you keep getting distracted by guests and can’t figure out what’s going on with him.

Once he’s drunk enough to not care about anything--just as he intended--he makes eye contact with an attractive woman in a slinky gown and winks. His rough flirting works, as the woman comes up to him. He feels a mixture of pride and shame that he’s still attractive and powerful enough to draw someone in with nothing more than a wink.

They chat briefly, but they both know Lucio desires more than conversation and the guest is more than willing to oblige. He takes the woman’s hand, leading her to an alcove far away from the party and they begin to make out. Soon his pants are at his ankles and they’re doing far more than kissing. It’s rough, messy and fast, exactly the thing he would have done in his life before he got the plague and before you.

The woman leaves him panting when they’ve both finished. His stomach drops as he realizes that this cheap attempt at feeling young again only made him feel worse. He realizes with a start that he jeopardized the thing that actually fulfills him and makes him truly happy.

Muriel

Muriel dislikes social interactions with pretty much everyone, especially strangers. How could he possibly cheat on you when he can hardly stand to spend time around his friends?

But as he becomes more comfortable with being around people, he starts spending time around the Palace. Usually, he’s waiting for you to finish your duties with Nadia so he can walk you home or go back to the shop for dinner, but sometimes he comes early so he can spend a quiet moment in the gardens.

The more time he spends at the Palace, befriending some of Lucio’s poorly-behaved albino animals and trying to train them, the more time he spends with a certain servant determined to befriend him.

At first, they don’t even catch his attention, he’s so used to tuning other people out. But this servant notices his gentle nature and sometimes brings him some water or tea and a pastry while he’s sitting by the fountain. They claim that they’ve been trained to always serve the needs of their guests, but they’re mostly interested in getting Muriel to open up.

After several weeks of Muriel becoming used to the servant and accepting that they can be trusted, he begins exchanging a few words with them beyond a grunted thanks for the refreshments. The way the servant approaches him reminds him of you and he finds he doesn’t mind light conversation to entertain him and distract him from Lucio’s pets.

One day, he realizes with a start that he not only trusts the servant and enjoys their company, but that he finds them attractive. He panics, not knowing how to tell you. He feels so ashamed of himself for letting someone new in and he’s never felt attracted to someone like this before, other than with you. He’s confused on how to handle his feelings and how he should tell you, if at all.

He confesses the situation to Asra before going to you. Asra is very kind and supportive, saying that it is natural to find other people attractive and that it’s a good sign that he is willing to let a stranger befriend him. But Muriel can’t shake the idea that he’s done wrong by you and refuses to come back to the gardens.

Portia

Given how much Portia likes secrets and romance stories, I think a part of her would love the idea of a sneaky romance. Portia is a deeply practical person, but there are times where she can get carried away with romanticism. The thrill of getting away with it and using her knowledge of the secret passages in the Palace, etc. to hide a tryst holds some appeal to her, but she’d feel ashamed of even fantasizing about it.

She has to work on the first night of the Masquerade after the events of the game due to her new responsibilities at the Palace. Out of solidarity, you work too, creating real-time magical spectacles to surprise guests. To keep up the aesthetic, you’re both still wearing costumes and masks.

While Portia is in the ballroom, she’s fretting over the floral displays and a heavily intoxicated person knocks into her, sending the vase flying. Before Portia can even react, she falls into strong arms, rescuing her from the splashing water and strewn flowers. She turns to thank the stranger, and they say she can express her gratitude by granting them a dance. In the spirit of the Masquerade, she accepts.

She and the stranger twirl around the dance floor to a fast-paced song. The stranger is a fantastic dancer and leads Portia through the steps flawlessly. They end the song by dipping her low. The music switches to a slow ballad while the lights dim. Still breathless, the stranger pulls Portia close, and she loses herself in the moment. The ambiance is incredible, and kissing a gorgeous masked stranger at a ball could not be more storybook-perfect. Their lips touch, until a swirl of magical energy brushes her and she remembers you. She steps back from the stranger and runs off, forgetting about her duties, the flowers on the ground and the rest of the Masquerade. She feels horrible about kissing someone other than you but can’t shake the smug pleasure deep inside her that loves her fairytale romance coming to life.

#the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana main 6 #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #lucio morgasson #portia devorak #muriel of the kokhuri #pain and angst #nic arcana headcanons

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persephone-is-here-omg · 4 years ago

Text

Part of the Job.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne/Reader.

Warnings: Smut. Oral, female receiving, slight choking, fingering, teasing. Alcohol.

Word Count: 4059.

Rating: 18+.

Masterlist.

More Bruce Wayne bullshit, hoes. And watch your backs, because if I give into the idea I have there’s gonna be a Bucky Barnes/Bruce Wayne/Reader fic coming your way and you won’t know what hit you.

"Bruce Wayne" The gruff voice at the other end of the line says as you examine the boutique box that had just been delivered at your door.

"Hey... Uhm... I think you sent a dress or something by mistake to my place" You say prodding him for information, but you know is not a mistake.

"Not by mistake, we have something to do tonight and I need you to wear that dress" Bruce informs you of your plans and you can't help but nod slowly, even though he can not see you do it.

"So, what if I have plans tonight?" You tease, hardly containing the glee in your voice "Maybe dinner or something, probably with a guy you wouldn't like"

If you had Bruce in front of you, you know you'd see him frown for a moment, just a short little second, then he'd look at you with those clear blue eyes of his, face completely neutral "I know you don't have any plans"

"You know, is kinda rude of you to just dispose of my time like this" You keep teasing, just pushing a little more.

"You knew what you were getting into and it didn't stop you. I'll be there at nine tonight" He says and hangs up.

You giggle and bite your lip, staring at the box still closed on your bed. You haven't even opened it yet, not that you don't trust Bruce's taste, you just wanted to give him shit about it first. You tell yourself he probably knows the sizes of every person that's ever come into his proximity, but still a part of you preens with pride at the idea of having so much of his atention. Not that you would ever admit it to him.

You open the box and look at the dress, is nice. Is a really nice dress, black with delicate beading details that make a swirling pattern on the sides, a deep v in the front that shows quite a bit of cleavage is kept together by a sheer mesh panel. When you turn it around you can see the low back and how the skirt is slightly longer at the back.

You jump, a few hours later, as you come out of the bathroom wrapped in a fluffy black towel and find Bruce seated on the armchair in your room “God damn it” You mutter “What are you doing here so early?”

“Does the dress fit?” He asks, his intense gaze fixed on you.

Holding the towel tight around you and narrowing your eyes “You know it does and that is weird”

Bruce raises an eyebrow at you, the corner of his mouth raised just the tiniest bit “Is it?” The rest of the sentence is left unsaid, but you know what he's thinking about.

You roll your eyes “Where are we going, anyway? That you need me to dress like a showgirl”

“Remember that arms dealer I had been trailing?”

You nod.

“He frequents a clandestine casino, here, in Gotham. We are going there tonight” Bruce explains, fixing his tie.

“Oh, so we're wasting money tonight?”

“Mainly. There's some illegal fighting, too but I’ll only fight if I have to. They have a strict dress code, hence, the dress” He looks at you intently, then adds “You should wear that black coat over it. Is cold outside”

“Okay, daddy” You answer in a sarcastic tone “Now… Can you give me some space?”

The corner of his mouth lifts almost imperceptibly in amusement and you can almost hear his thoughts, then he stands and walks pass you and out of the room “Don’t take too long”

The door closes after Bruce and you walk towards your dresser, pull on a pair of panties and then sit down and start to get your makeup done, then your hair. Finally you put on the dress, paired with black, high heeled shoes and the coat Bruce suggested.

Bruce’s back is to you as you come out and clear your throat “I’m ready” You stand there as he turns around, his eyes moving slowly down your body, taking you in.

"Perfect" He says and walks over to you "Let's go"

Bruce opens the passenger side door for you and you look at him with a tilted head as he gets on the opposite side "I thought Alfred would be driving"

"Alfred's busy tonight"

"Busy, huh?" You nod and watch as he starts the car with calculated moves "And what did he say about my stitches?"

"He said you did a marvelous job" You beam at the praise "Thinks you should patch me up more often"

"He does?"

"Is what he said" Bruce counters and then starts driving.

Silence extends between the two of you as your eyes watch the city lights pass you by, then you turn your head and look at Bruce, see his eyes dart from the road to you, see his hand tighten on the gear shift. You realize you are going out of the city.

"So, B" You start and he turns his face again towards you, you know he wants to tell you not to call him 'B' he also knows you're not going to stop "What made you pick this dress? But, more importantly, can I keep it?"

"Is a nice dress and is yours" He answers, simply, to the point.

"I know is a nice dress, Bruce" You tilt your head and lean closer to him "But why did you pick it for me?"

Bruce drives out of the road and looks at you, one hand on the steering wheel and another on the gear shift "I knew it would look good on you and would fit into the place we're going" His knuckles are white, as if he's holding back from something, he lets go of the gear shift and places his hand around your neck loosely "And I like how you look in it, very much" He lets go of your neck and starts driving again, you squirm in your seat, bite your lip and take a deep, shaky breath, let your head rest against the seat.

You cross and then uncross your legs and Bruce grips your thigh firmly "Stop" He kneads your thigh but doesn't add anything else, his hand moves slowly up your thigh and stops right under the hem of your dress.

Bruce moves his hand back onto the gear shift and you turn your face to look at him, watch the tick in his jaw, think about telling him to park somewhere and just fuck you already, is what you both want. But you know Bruce and know he won't do it, he'd tell you to focus on tonight's mission and that you should take this as an exercise in delayed gratification.

About twenty minutes later, he parks outside a rather inconspicous building, a man you assume works security approaches the car as Bruce rolls down the window on his side. He hands the man a small, black card and then the man steps back, Bruce gets out of the car and walks over to your side, opens the door for you and offers his hand for you take as you step out of the car. His hand finds the small of your back and you can feel how his thumb moves in a slow motion over your coat as he hands the keys of the car and guides you towards the door.

Once inside a very young girl takes your coats and Bruce's hand is back on your back, his skin is warm on yours, his hand is rough and calloused, and he guides you towards a poker table. When Bruce sits down you lean over his shoulder and kiss the corner of his mouth, it's a show after all and in this show, that's your part to play "I'll go get a drink, do you want something?"

He nods takes a moment to think and then says "Scotch, no ice, please"

You walk away towards the bar, order red wine for you and scotch for Bruce, then head back to the table. You hand the glass to Bruce and stand right behind his chair, a hand casually draped over his shoulder as the game unfolds in front of you. Your fingers find their way into the hair at the nape of Bruce's neck, you start to play with it distractedly as you keep your eyes open, roaming around the room, locating possible way outs and security personel. You lean in again and whisper in Bruce's ear, pointing out all the possible exits, a flirty smile on your face as you explain to him. Your lips brushing against the shell of his ear. Bruce smiles, that cocky self-satisfied smile, the one from the tabloids and magazines. After a while, and after loosing a considerable amount of money and gaining some back, Bruce stands up and wraps his arms tightly around your waist, lips brushing against the corner of your jaw, you smile and caress his hair.

"Lets go to the bar" Bruce directs "That's our guy" He has his arm around a girl that doesn't quite look of legal age and you turn to Bruce, almost as if he can read your mind he adds "I know. All these girls are way too young. We'll deal with it"

You make your way to the bar and sit on a stool, Bruce stands behind you, arms caging you in with your front to the bar, his lips meet your skin right at the point where your neck and shoulder meet, one of his hands moves down to your thigh and again the calloused pads of his fingers move up, stopping at the hem of your dress making your breath hitch "Focus" He whispers, but you know that he knows it is impossible for you to do that when he's touching you like that, it almost feels like this isn't part of facade. The bartender comes and Bruce orders the same two drinks. The guy sitting a couple of stools away turns to look at Bruce.

"Are you betting only?" He says and you follow Bruce's gaze toward him.

"So far, but I've heard about the fights" He sounds exactly as he should, too much money, too much time.

The guy smirks "You don't look like you need the money"

"I don't need the money" Bruce confirms "But I would enjoy a fight, work some stress off"

You know he can perfectly handle the kind of fighting that takes place here, but you still play up your part " Are you sure?"

He nods, starts walking and takes the jacket and tie off, handing them to you, then rolls the sleeves of his shirt up to the elbows and steps into the circle of people. He stands in the middle for a while and your gazes cross, then his oppenent walks in and the fight starts. Bruce dodges some hits and lets others land, if he wanted to this fight would be over already, but he's supposed to be playing the bored billionaire in search of some adrenaline. So he allows it to continue, even crashing against the onlookers a few times. It comes a point, though, where you can tell he's done with the game. There's a bruise blooming around one of his eyes and a small cut on his lower lip, he manages to make it look like something completely fortitous, but you know better, when he knocks his opponent out and gives you the smallest of smirks.

Bruce takes his tie and places untied around his neck, the jacket is drapped over his arm as he steers you towards the door "Lets get out of here" His hand rests just above your ass, his fingers spread wide, it reminds of just how big his hands are. The same girl that took your coats gives them back and as you step out the door the car stops right in front of you.

The drive back into the city is not really going back into the city, is towards Wayne Manor you realize. You don't say anything, instead let the anticipation course through your body, fill you with a buzzing energy that almost makes you shiver and your skin breaks out in goosebumps. Bruce steers right into the tunnel that leads to the cave, he drives as if he's in the other car, takes his curves really close and if it was anyone else you might get nervous but not with him. He parks seamlessly and perfectly and your door is open even before the car is fully parked. Your heel touches the ground and you're out as soon as it stops moving, you push the door closed without looking behind you, trying to give you time to get a hold of yourself.

You can hear Bruce's steps behind you, he's purposely keeping his distance, you stop in front of the computer, roll your neck and feel him cage you against the desk. He says nothing, he doesn't touch you, just stands there waiting until you turn around to face him. The space between you feels electric, buzzing with that undefinable energy right before something happens. Is in these moments that you realize just how tall he is, how big he is, you look up at him and he hauls you onto the desktop, sets you down on it and kisses you right away, his hand cups your jaw, it does it in that way that leaves no doubt who's the one in charge here. You like it. He uses his other hand to push your coat down, you pull your arms free and wrap them around his neck, move down his chest and undo the buttons of his shirt, pull it free from his slacks and place them on the broad span of his chest.

Bruce pushes the straps of your dress down your arms, until your breasts are exposed and your nipples harden against the chilly air of the cave, his hands move towards your chest and cup your boobs. His thumbs circle your nipples and your back arches in response, you want to be closer to him with as little space possible between you, but he keeps his distance, watches your face intently.

"What?" You say, trying to hide the vulnerability in your voice. How exposed you feel when he looks at you like that.

Bruce moves one hand back to your jaw, makes sure you hold his gaze as he says "I like watching you. I like that little crease between your brows when you try to guess what I’m thinking" Then he's kissing you again, hard and hungry, teeth grazing your lower lip, his tongue slips inside your mouth and it feels all consuming. The kisses move to your jaw, down your neck, to your chest, his lips close around your nipple and Bruce sucks on it until it’s hard and aching, making your back arch, your nails dig on the exposed skin of his arms. He moves to the other side and this time bites the underside of your breast, moving in tandem as he tugs the skirt of your dress up, over your hips.

He uses both hands to rip your panties off, first one side then the other the sound reverberates through the cave and, after he's done, Bruce pulls them away and stuffs them inside the pocket of his pants. You feel exposed, vulnerable in a way that drives you wild, as you watch Bruce come down in front of you, between your thighs, your skin prickles with anticipation.

You shiver under the intensity of Bruce's gaze, unwavering as he looks at your face for a few seconds. Then his lips graze your thigh, is feather light at first, goosebumps break on your skin and you bring your hands to the edge of the desk, gripping it tightly. He sinks his teeth on the inside of your thigh and you hiss, it stings enough for you to know that it will leave a mark that will in time turn into a bruise. You bury one of your hands in his hair "B-Bruce" You stutter, feeling him move closer to your core "Oh, my God. You're enjoting this too much" You can't hear him, but you see his shoulders shake and narrow your eyes, open your mouth to give him some witty, smartass response but it dies before it even forms as his lips come into contact with your sex. A gasp comes out of you instead.

"Fuck" You breath. Bruce grasps your thighs and pulls you forward, to the edge of the desk. His tongue darts between your folds, following the edges of your slit, swirling around your clit. You close your hand around Bruce's dark hair and moan, long and drawn. His tongue delves inside you, then his lips close around your clit and suck. You toss your head back "Fuck" You repeat, he's reduced your vocabulary to one word and you can't form a complete thought, not when he is between your legs, face buried in you, lips pressed against your most intimate parts. You feel it start on your toes, that warm coil that tightens the more he works on you, feel it start to tug and tug, slowly at first, then all of a sudden until it releases and you cry out, thighs trembling, hands both pushing him away and holding him in place. Bruce works you through it, doesn't stop when you're coming down, he lets go of your thighs and stands up, brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks them.

You follow his hand with your eyes, barely register when he says "I didn't even had to wet my finger, you're so slick" His fingers circle your clit and make you jump, still reeling from your previous orgasm. The way he says it is almost mocking, it really just makes you want to slap him.

"G-god I hate you" You groan as he thrusts two of his fingers inside you and his shoulders shake almost silently again, moving in and out, scissoring and hooking. You move your hand to his sides and dig your nails in Bruce's skin, making him hiss, but it only makes him focus more on making you cum again, not that is going to take long. Your skin prickles with anticipation and you can feel how the orgasm builds deep in your belly. He curls his fingers once more, flicks your clit with his thumb again and you're cumming hard, letting your head fall into his shoulder, eyes closed tight and toes curling. He kisses the side of your head and you turn your face to kiss him, move your arms around his neck again, then drag them down his chest and drag your nails over his absm leaving red, angry marks in your wake.

You undo the button on his slacks, pull the zipper down and push your hand inside his boxers, wrap it warm and soft around his cock, keep your eyes fixed on his face, the way Bruce's mouth twitches as he groans your name, and pushes his pants and underwear down, just past his ass, leaving with more than enough space to move your hand up and down his cock. He groans your name again.

Bruce grasps your thighs once more, lowers his gaze and looks at your hand around his cock for a moment, until he decides it's been enough. He lets go of your thigh and instead wraps that hand around your neck firmly "Go on, guide me inside you" He orders, always in control.

You do as he says and drag the tip of Bruce's cock inside you, your mouth agape as he fills you inch by inch. You cling to his sides again as he makes you hold his gaze, he pulls back halfway in, then starts thrusting inside once again, until he’s buried deep inside you. Bruce stays like that, then grinds against you, making you gasp against his lips.

Bruce's hand is still firm around your throat when he starts moving, is a pace right in the middle, not too slow and not too fast, just in control. Always in control. He grinds into you every time he bottoms out, makes you gasp and dig your nails deeper on his sides. He doesn't let go of your neck, keeps you looking at his face. You move your hands down and grab Bruce's ass tightly, moan against his lips as he kisses your lips and thrusts harder. He reaches so deep into you it is hard to breath. Bruce leans over you as you let go of his ass and hold your weight on your elbows as he takes a nipple into his mouth, your walls clench around him and a moan of his name tumbles through your lips, you cross your ankles behind his back and whine "Please, please" That voice is almost unrecognizable to you, its small and pleading, makes your cheeks burn.

Bruce envelopes you with his arms, tightly secured around your waist and lifts you from the desk, there is a squeal and then a moan when he thrust hard, then he's sitting down on the chair and his hands are gripping your hips, encouraging you to move and ride him. You oblige, there's no way you could say no, not when you're on edge and he refuses to look at anything else but you.

One of your hands is on his shoulder and the other grips the back of the chair so tight, somewhere in the back of your mind you think your nails will tear the leather, but your hips move above him, you ride Bruce fast and hard, chasing after your third orgasm of the night, the sound of your skin against his resonates through the cave and comes back to both of you, filling the space between his growls and your moans, his grunts and your whines. He wraps his arms around your waist again and for a moment you think he will stand up again, but instead he holds you in place and kisses your shoulder, your neck, bites your skin the feeling of his teeth marking you makes you shiver in his arms, makes your hips buck wildly of their own accord and as he chases and catches your lips, Bruce thrusts up into you, holding in you in place with his arms around you, he kisses you deep and thoroughly, all tongue, teeth and wild need. You're so close to each other his pelvic bone drags against your clit every time he moves, heightening every sensation and when he buries a hand in your hair and tugs the fire consumes, it wreaks havoc through your entire body as you cum, arching your back and eyes watering as your walls tighten around his cock velvet fist like. The look on your face, the goosebumps on your skin are enough to trigger Bruce's own orgasm. His name tumbles from his lips in a raspy, deep tone, you tremble in his arms but he holds you tight in place, balls deep inside you, his cum warm inside you.

You both pant as you get your breaths back, Bruce rests his forehead against your chest and you play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. You can feel his semen starting to leak out of you and believe he will pull out of you and let you stand. He does pull out of you, but he keeps you there, watches as his cum drips out slowly, then gathers some of it on his fingers and brings it to your mouth. You open obediently and suck on his fingers, moaning around his fingers, until they're clean, then he kisses your lips, a growl deep within his chest as he tastes both of you in your mouth.

"Fuck" He curses looking at you "I can't keep you out of my head, I can't keep my hands off of you"

He always says this, it almost sounds as if he is chiding himself for it, for not keeping it 'professional' but the truth is you don't want him to.

And you say as much "Then don't. I don't want you to"

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #batman x reader #batman x you #my big bad furry #batman fic #bruce wayne fic #batman imagine #bruce wayne imagine #don't judge me #i have no self control when it comes to bruce wayne #and i won't even try

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ikeromantic · 3 years ago

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Piano Lessons

An ObeyMe! Lucifer fic, approx. 1800 words. G/N MC, Fluff.

The infernal grand piano squatted in one shadowed corner of the music room. To any human, at first glance it looked no different from the version in the human world. A dangerous assumption, you knew. If an easy one to make. This instrument was capable of compositions that would drive a mortal listener mad, or even cause death.

You thought that would be reason enough to be given a pass on your Devilish Music I, but Lucifer didn’t agree. In fact, he considered your ignorance of the instrument and its compositions an opportunity. And that was how you found yourself in the House of Lamentation’s music room every afternoon when RAD let out.

Lucifer was already waiting on the bench. He looked up as you came in, lips compressed in an expression of near-constant disapproval. “You’re late.”

“I’m on time!” You glanced at the clock on the wall.

“If you aren’t five minutes early, that counts as late. Now come here and sit next to me.”

Arguing with Lucifer was futile. Besides, you did want to sit next to him. During your time in the Devildom, you’d developed a bit of a crush on the eldest brother. One that had you working hard to be on the receiving end of his rare smiles and sparse compliments.

Today you were hoping to impress Luci with your rendition from Certovski, Faust’s Mistake. It was one of the mortal-safe pieces you could attempt without risking your mind or your soul.

“Fingers on the keys.” Lucifer’s red eyes followed your hands as you tried for the appropriate position. “Elbows out. Move your left hand in.”

You did as instructed, but apparently you were still off. He reached for your hands, positioning them. Part of you wanted to fight him on it. The rest of you just enjoyed the feel of his hands on yours. His skin was always so warm and smooth.

He frowned. “Focus.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled. With your hands in place, you ran through the demonic scale. Some of the tones were too low or too high to hear. You could feel them though, shivering your bones and raising the hairs at the back of your neck.

Your warm-up didn’t get any objection from the Prince of Pride, which meant you were doing well. A quick glance showed he wasn’t frowning any more. Good.

Lucifer stood and began to pace behind you. “What are you going to play for me?”

“I’ve been practicing Faust’s Mistake.” As if he didn’t know.

“Then begin.”

You take a breath. This is it. You try to psych yourself up. All that practice will pay off. All those evenings you gave up gaming with Levi and Mammon, the weekends you stayed in instead of going out with Satan or Asmo. You could play this in your sleep.

Your hands float across the keys, the melody pouring from the hidden strings, describing the terrible bargain Faust made. The fast, tripping notes gave way to the long, slow sounds of regret, and finally, to the clashing finish.

Sweat beaded your forehead as you lowered your hands to your lap. The tension in your chest stopped your breath as you waited for Lucifer’s judgement.

“That was . . . not bad.”

From anyone else, you’d take this as a criticism but from Luci? It was a gold star. You smiled over your shoulder at him.

The left corner of his lip turned up in a slight half smile. “I’m impressed you memorized the whole piece in such a short time. I can tell you’ve worked hard.”

You felt like if he gave you one more compliment, you might completely melt.

“But -”

Your heart sank.

“I didn’t feel the tension, the passion of the moment in your rendition. You were too focused on technical mastery.” Lucifer sat down beside you, his hip brushing yours. “The Faustian epic is classic. It must evoke the emotion of the moment, the story, that birthed it. Let me show you what I mean.”

His hands went to the keys. “This is from earlier in the story. The Fall.” He began playing in a low octave, a heavy, slow rhythm that made your heart pound. Or perhaps that was just from sitting so close to him.

Lucifer kept that going as he began to layer higher, lighter notes atop it. These sounded almost playful, innocent. If not for the ominous beat beneath it. “Here we have naivete. The mortal at play, unaware of the trap laid for him.”

You nod.

“The music is the story, the story lives in the music. Now -” The lighter notes began to slow, creeping closer to the lower octave. “The mortal becomes aware of the nearness of death. The lingering, slow demise that comes to all men.”

Your breath slows in time to the music, and you can almost feel the weight of your years, few though they are. It is as if you lived a century and now your bones are heavy and your body is weary. Your eyelids drift half closed.

Lucifer continues to play, the ominous chords grow louder and the higher tones fade until both melodies close in on each other.

There is a subaudible component now, and though you can’t hear it, you can feel it move with the pulse of your blood. An arrhythmia that pulls you into the moment. The music surges beneath your eyelids, a spiral of red across a dark abyss. A false light.

“Here Faust decides his soul is worth less than his earthly pleasures, and denies Death its due. You can hear the strains of rage from Death’s denial beside the demon’s triumph. And there, Faust’s -”

The music stops but you can still feel it inside you. Something slick and warm slides down your cheek.

Lucifer’s voice, demanding. Trembling. “Wake up. Open your eyes this instant.”

You wish you could obey. You’d like to but the music holds you where you are. Limbo. A space bereft of everything but the music. Death and the demon, Faust’s lust and greed.

“Please.” Lucifer’s voice is gentler than you’ve ever heard it before.

You feel the pad of his thumb against your cheek. A sudden burst of magic like static on a distant radio. Then silence. Your mind slips under a dark, quiet ocean.

The water is warm. Peaceful. You can feel it cradling you. Stroking your hair, your cheeks. The touches become more insistent. Pushing you toward the surface. Toward wakefulness.

“I am sorry. Please. If you open your eyes, I will do . . . I will do anything, anything you want. I won’t make you practice anymore. I’ll give you a - a bigger room.”

The voice belongs to Lucifer, you’re sure of it. But it doesn’t sound like him. When has he ever pleaded, begged, for anything? You realize it is his hands on your skin, stroking your arms, your face. Then it hits you. The music. It wasn’t safe for your mind and now . . . was this real?

You open your eyes.

Lucifer’s face is the first thing you see. He is so close, you can feel his breath on your cheek. His eyes are wide and damp, and full of concern. You are held tight against him, like a child.

“Can you hear me? See me?” His fingertip slides along your jawline, a delicate touch.

“Yes.” Your voice comes out throaty and low. Rough as if you’d been screaming.

His relief is palpable. He squeezes you tighter, pressing your face to his chest. “I . . . I apologize. I got carried away with the music. And you’ve taken injury because of it - because of me.”

The words are halting, stiff. Hard for the proud eldest to say, and yet, for you, he does. “It’s okay,” you croak. “It was beautiful.” And it’s true. Some remnant of the cursed melodies still echo in the chambers of your heart. Haunting you with a promise that has no words.

“I will see you are fully recovered.” The briskness returns to Lucifer’s voice.

You try to push yourself up, off his chest. He doesn’t loosen his hold on you.

“Stop struggling. Are you uncomfortable?” Lucifer adjusts his grip, sliding your head to the crook of his arm. “Is that better?”

It isn’t, really. But at least you can see you aren’t in the music room anymore. Lucifer must have carried you to his chambers. He must have been worried, but you don’t know why. You feel alright. You try to sit up again.

With an exasperated look, Lucifer partially lifts you. He doesn’t release you. “Didn’t I say to stop struggling? You need to relax until you are . . . repaired.”

“I feel fine,” you tell him.

He frowns. “You are still bleeding from your ears.”

You lift a hand to the side of your head. It comes away red and wet. “Oh.”

“It will take a few days for the effects to wear off.” The concern in his scarlet gaze frightens you more than the blood.

“Will I be ok?”

“Mostly.” He looks away. “Until then, I will keep you here and see to your needs. Are you hungry? Thirsty? Does anything hurt?”

You shake your head. This, you discovered, was a mistake. The shadows of the room move with your vision, growing one direction and then the other. Wide swaths of darkness that catch your eye.

“Are you seeing things?” Lucifer looks back at you. His thumb caresses your cheek.

“N-no.”

“Rather, tell me what you are seeing. And don’t lie about it a second time.”

There is a flicker of warning in the crimson depths of his gaze. You tell him about the shadows, and the way the music still sings in you.

He frowns. “If the effects do not fade, I may have to keep you in my rooms forever.”

You note that he doesn’t sound annoyed at this prospect. But he didn’t ask you, and his assumptions don’t sit well. “You can’t lock me up, Lucifer.”

“I can.”

Wrong tactic to take. You amend. “It probably isn’t a good idea to burden yourself with caring for me. You have a lot to do. Diavolo needs you.”

Lucifer knows what you’re up to. He has millenniums on you, after all. He smiles and brushes the hair back from your forehead. “I have informed my brothers, and the Prince, that you fell ill yesterday afternoon. I’ve taken time off to care for you.”

Your mind takes a moment to catch up. “Yesterday?”

“Yes. I cast a spell to knock you unconscious when I realized what I’d done. It helped, briefly. But you started screaming some time in the night and . . .”

You realize he’s been sitting here, holding you, for hours. Warmth blossoms in your chest. A happiness completely out of place, all things considered. But despite the blood loss and possibly permanent madness, you feel loved. Cared for.

Lucifer seems to read your mind. He says nothing, just places a light kiss on your forehead.

Neither of you need to speak. He knows and you know and words just complicate things anyway.

He stands, still holding you, and carries you to bed. When you drift back to sleep, it’s with your head on his chest, his arm around your shoulders to pull you close.

#obey me shall we date #om #om lucifer #otome guys #otome #devildom #obey me lucifer #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff

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quirklessidiot · 4 years ago

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Title: first meetings [ii. the small pink-haired boy] Genre: just angst, drama, romance, historical fiction Pairing: Sorcerer!Sukuna x gn!sorcerer!reader (heian era; pre-curse sukuna)

Synopsis: in which you befriend the slave boy you’re supposed to spy on.

Warnings: not canon stuff, future dark themes,, smoll manga spoilers, slavery, whipping, mentions of rape, language and violence Notes: im kinda back i guess skksks also these are pretty much random au’s of my own take of sukuna’s back story uwu, theyre arranged in no particular order and you can read them in any order. This started out as a random one shot and i couldnt get it out of my head lol ksksksks, def not canon btw but it is canon that sukuna used to be an all powerful sorcerer before he turned to the dark side or smthng.

lil dictionary: non-person- usually what they called slaves during the heian era.

masterlist [for other parts] ;; taglist

“That’s beautiful.”

Contrasting to your rather clean and prestigious appearance, the young boy was dressed in rags and had dirt painted on his face. You could tell by his uncommon red eyes that he didn’t want you here nor did he even want to be associated with you.

“...the boy is rather prideful.” your otosan recounted a few nights before, you’d usually have conversations like this since you were quite close with him and he did like to confide you with these things,“but he has spirit, he’d be good for a ward.”

“What are you doing here?” He spat, being a part of and the sole heir of your family meant you were also treated with dignity and respect, it seemed like this boy wasn’t afraid of anything or anyone, this made you grin wildly much to his disdain, “Oi, stop grinning like that. You’re creeping me the fuck out.”

“I’m Y/N.”

“And I don’t care.”

“Has anyone told you that you’ve got quite the temper?”

“Well, has anyone told you that you’re being an annoying bitch?” he bit back, five minutes into your first meeting, this strange boy seemed to want to get furthest away from you. He seemed to be rather ignorant to his overflowing cursed energy, your father was right, this boy was definitely no joke.

“That’s sad.” You pouted, “All I wanted to say was how beautiful that Kimono is.”

“I was at a store, looking for some clothes that best suited you when I saw a young boy of your age…” your otosan narrated, “Who had a rather high cursed energy, he seemed unaware with it. He works as an errand boy, I believe, he carries heavy clothes and silk… His looks are hard to miss Y/N, so I’m sure you won’t miss him...try to talk to him…”

The boy looks up to you, completely annoyed, “Well, you said it. Now fuck off, yeah?”

You chose to ignore him and just bend down to his level, you had no training for today so you might as well join the boy for a moment since you had time to kill, “You know, if you keep keeping that attitude up, you might scare the customers away.” you mumbled, loud enough for him to hear.

“Yeah?” he clicked his tongue, “Looks to me that you aren’t even here to buy anything.”

“He seemed rather…” Your otosan described, “perplexed...so you might as well go in my stead…”

“Ah.” your grin doesn’t seem to fade despite his rather rough way of speaking, “You just seemed around my age so I got interested.”

“No shit, now buzz off. I got no time for kids like you.”

He talks as if he was older than you, it’s no surprise. Boys like him tend to think they know quite a lot.

“Do you wish to tell me your name now?”

He was silent for a moment.

That’s when realization dawned upon you, why he seemed perplexed around your otosan, why he thinks you were an annoying buzz, and why he couldn’t reply when you asked for his name. You feel yourself inwardly cringe at your mistake, it seems like the boy your father took interest in is a slave with no name, “Twenty.” he mumbles, shrugging nonchalantly.

“What?”

“They call me twenty.” he recounts, his voice is still rough around the edges, remaining uncensored by his identity.

“Right…” you tilt your head, “Twenty…”

“You’ve got silks to bring to the next town, boy!” a loud voice calls out, cutting you short, making the pink-haired boy put the pretty kimono down and back for display. Without even sparing you a glance or a word, he retreats to the back and you’re left squatting there alone. You watch him from behind, specifically at the bandages that peeked through his wrists.

The boy had piqued your interest to the point that you made it your weekly agenda to visit him and a-some-nights agenda to watch over him. He still ignores you and seems to be annoyed by you every time but he doesn’t seem to be doing anything about it so you just sit there.

You were also still in awe by how much raw energy he possessed, you’d ask your otosan if he knew any sorcerers with lost children because it surely seemed as if this boy wasn’t ordinary.

“Just keep an eye on him,” was all your father said as you watch the boy close up shop late at night from on top of a roof, “He might make a great sorcerer and shift the tides.”

Your otosan was not one for gambling on people but it seemed like he made a large bet on this boy.

As usual, you’re watching over him close up. It’s late and the owner of the place walks out, a pipe on his lips. Right then and there, he slaps the pink-haired teenager right at the face, “You should’ve joined the customer awhile ago in the dressing room, boy.” he growls, “It would’ve been quick…”

You feel the negative energy emit stronger than ever and your grip on your knife is tight, “Don’t get involved, Y/N.” your otosan’s warning echoes in your head, yes your otosan may have been interested in him but he was never one to dwell in human affairs, saying they were annoying and a mess to clean up.

“...It seems like the lesson a few nights ago wasn’t enough.” you snap back to reality and watch his boss stretch out a whip with its pointy ends and you feel your blood run cold.

‘Don’t get involved-’

You ignore your otosan’s words in your head and throw a stone right at a nearby sign, resulting in a booming clang, making the cat nearby yelp outloud. The pink-haired boy jumps on the spot and so does the older man at the sound.

“Ah fucking-” the older man curses, tucking the whip back in, “No food for you for three days. Know your fucking worth, non-person.”

Your grip on your nodachi lessens as you let out a sigh of relief, whatever legal terms your father must be talking about needs to be done quickly.

On the next day, you’re on your way to visit him again. Carrying the bento box that you know he’ll refuse again because of his ‘pride’ yet you stop dead on your tracks when you find his owner and an older man talking, Sukuna seems to be standing behind them, looking quite uncomfortable.

It didn’t take two and two to guess what was going on, the amount of cursed energy leaking on him was strong so you could only guess this was the man who wanted to get his way on him yesterday. Your nose crinkles in absolute disgust, “Don’t get involved-”

Once again, you ignore your otosan’s words.

“Hey!” You call out, you see his red eyes widen, “What are you doing?”

The older man frowns at your sudden appearance, “None of your business brat. Now go home-”

“I said,” You repeated, your voice dangerously low, “What are you doing to him?”

“He’s a non-person, kid.” his ‘owner’ growls, you notice his hands dangerously close to his whip, “A fucking slave in simpler terms, now get the fuck out before I beat him and you.”

“You don’t scare me.” Your eyes are narrowed, truthfully, no one ever scares you. You were the heir of your clan. It was to be expected and drilled since your curse energy manifested when you were five that fear would come last, “Now unhand the boy.”

“This bitch-”

“Now, now.” The other man smiles, cutting the pink-haired boy’s ‘owner’ off, “Maybe I can take that young child with me too. After all, they seem to be good friends. Two is better than one…”

You watch the other older man snake an arm on the young boy’s shoulder and you could feel the fear leaking out, it was harder to mask and hide now.

“Is it alright to put a little scar on’em? So that they’d know-” He gets ready to take out the whip while your fists are clenched, this would be easy. You could get away with this later, at least you’d take the boy away from this place and help him control his energy after.

Yet before you’re able to land a blow, the pink-haired boy yells at you to move as his ‘owner’ takes out a whip to whip you.

For someone who didn’t seem to like your presence, he was rather quick to defend you, having his face get hit in the process by the sharp whip. Your eyes widen in surprise, “Ah, shit… Y/N, run!” he yells but you’re staring at his very bloody face.

It would obviously leave marks like the wrists and who knows which parts since he was always covered by that very loose raggedy kimono.

You clench your fists tightly and look up from his blood features, the ‘owner’ stops on his tracks when he meets your very cold gaze, “Do you know who you just messed with?” you asked, “You really think I won’t tell my otosan that you planned to make me your prostitute?”

“Y-Y/N, jesus christ just fucking run-” he tried to stutter out, any evidence of the prideful and strong boy who tried to shoo you away was now gone.

Yet like the stubborn child you are, you ignore him and instead take out your family seal and drop it in front of them, ignoring the pink-haired boy’s plea’s and watching the two men in front of you turn white as a ghost as they see the nameplate, “My name is Ryomen Y/N.” You stated, voice loud and clear, “And you better hope that I’ll let you out here dead or me and my otosan will hunt you down for the rest of your life.”

taglist [if your name is crossed out, i cant tag you!] @shinhiromi ;; @hcn421 ;; @airybnb ;; @coldbookworm ;; @kristineyoshaii ;; @frankenstein852

@iguessimastannnow

#jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #sukuna imagines

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robinofgothamcity · 4 years ago

Text

♡ starting prompt: “the guy who wins your heart will be so lucky.”

♡ pairing: Tim Drake (Red Robin) & fem reader

♡ lyric inspiration: “I will take your pain and put it on my heart. I won’t hesitate, just tell me where to start.” / not checked for grammar or spelling mistakes.

“she’s drunk, isn’t she?” Barbara asked, looking at you empathetically, “again?” Dick replied, shaking his head. you were in the corner of the living room, wine bottle in your hand, and singing to whatever was playing, “she caught her ex cheating on her...again,” Barbara explained.

Dick sighed, seeing the clear pain on your face. you were dancing and singing with a smile plastered on your face but the pain you were trying to hide was still evident in your eyes. this had been the third time someone you were dating had done something to make you break up with them and everyone was being honest, they were ready to find your ex and tell them a thing or two.

“that’s really upsetting,” Dick mentioned, “she really liked him too. wherever she’s finding these guys to date, she needs to stop, and realize that the one she should be dating is in front of her eyes.”

the two of them looked to Tim, who was off in his was off in his own space, doing work for the Bat. Barbara gave him a hearty laugh, “yeah right!” she exclaimed, “the day Tim tells her how he feels is the day Damian thanks one of us for saving him.” Dick looked at her before hesitantly agreeing.

you walked towards the two, a drunk smile on your face. Dick grabbed the unopened wine bottle and hid it behind his back, “where’s the red wine I had here?” you asked, a pout on your face. Barbara gave Dick a quick look, “you finished it, sweetheart,” she informed, “the last bottle you bought is on the floor by the couch.”

you growled, giving a stink face, “this sucks. I’m still not drunk and still have thoughts of that IDIOT in my head...I need to find more alcohol,” you said with sudden determination, “do you think your dad has any?” you asked rhetorically.

Dick and Barbara went wide eyed as they saw you speeding towards the stairs, “TIM GRAB HER!” Dick screamed. Tim whipped his head up, seeing as you nearly out of the batcave and scrambled to get you.

you were on the second step when he grabbed you by the waist and hurled you into his arms, “come on ( your name ), you don’t need to be drinking anymore,” he whispered in your ear. you gave your best friend a sad pout, “please?” you you asked with your lip sticking out. Tim shook his head no as you sighed in defeat.

“it’s like everyone can see they’re in love except for them!” Barbara exclaimed, running her hands through her hair, “when they’re not doing hero work, they collectively share one brain cell,” Damian replied as he and the Kent kid walked into the lair.

your smile widened, seeing your favorite sidekick walk in, “DAMIAN!” you yelled, running to him with wide arms. he immediately ran away from you but with the speed of your legs, you managed to catch him easily enough, “what is wrong with her?” he yelled, trying to pry himself away from you.

Tim, Dick, Barbara, and Jon laughed as you continued to hug him while he struggled to get away, “Damian, you know you love it!” you said happily. he gave his brother a look for help, “what is wrong with her!” he yelled again, finally escaping his arms.

the three adults looked at each other as Tim spoke up, “she’s going through a rough time right now,” was all he managed to say as Damian scoffed, “what? did she go through another break up or something?” he said, not realizing your sudden change of expression.

you looked at the wall emotionless. Tim and Dick gave their brother a death stare as Jon walked up to you and wrapped his arm around you, “hey, it’s okay! there’s other people out there!” he tried to comfort you.

hearing Jon’s words, you felt tears brimming your eyes as you gave the Kent a tight hug, “really?” you slurred. Jon gave Tim a desperate look as he grabbed you and pulled your arm around him, “lets get you to bed? even though it’s noon?” he laughed, pulling you and himself to his bedroom.

“I swear that idiot is never going to confess his feelings for her, is he?” Damian asked his older brother as he agreed.

a few days had passed since you had gotten drunk at the Wayne manor. you were still a bit upset at the break up but more than anything, you were sad about not having anyone to come home and talk to after your work shifts.

you had never gotten far enough in a relationship where you had to admit what you did on the side but you would still come home beat from your ‘day’ job. you had been living alone the minute you turned eighteen as your parents refused to accept what you did with your free time.

being a superhero and helping out Batman when you had the chance was something you prided yourself on but your parents found it a waste of time as you had dropped going to college to help the bat out. you didn’t have any special powers, much like the rest of the Wayne family but your skills on the field made up for it regardless.

you saw your beeper going off indicating that either Dick or Bruce himself wanted to speak to you. you picked it up, showing that you were available to speak when the small screen showed up.

“afternoon ( your name ), you available to patrol tonight?” Dick asked, showing you the schedule for this weeks patrol. you looked it over, realizing you were able to pick up a few rounds, “yeah, I can do tonight, Wednesday, and Friday night!” you replied.

Dick smiled, “great to hear that! you’ll be doing rounds with Tim and Garfield,” he informed you. you nodded excitedly, “how you holding up?” he asked, trying to hint at your situation, “fine, I think? still stings but trying to get myself out there again,” you muttered, releasing a heavy sigh,

he remained silent for a bit but decided to bite back on his words, “ah, I’m sure you’ll find someone who’s worth your time soon enough. we’re here if you need anyone to talk to!” Dick said before departing and ending the call.

you slumped yourself on the couch and tried to get your mind off your ex boyfriend. this had been your third try at a relationship and every single time, every single one of them had done something to ruin it. the first one had completely ghosted you. the second one had broken up with you after he finally got laid, and the your last relationship ended because he had cheated on you.

you had mentioned the start of your relationships to the Wayne’s so they knew where you would run off to when you weren’t busy with work or hero work. despite keeping your relationship on the down low, each of them always crawled up to your door, apologizing profusely for what they did and you were able to tell that one of them were the reasons why.

the crying session you would usually have after a break up had yet to happen but you knew that it was bound to happen eventually. the crying after the break up always felt like the biggest wave of relief and you knew that was the last thing you had to cross off your list before fully moving on.

you ended up taking a nap on the couch, not realizing you were about to be to patrol as you bolted out of the blanket and ran to put on your uniform. the uniform was a bit tight on your body so it felt like it took your forty years to slip on but soon enough, you made your way to your starting destination.

Tim was already on the top of the roof, leaning against his bo-staff as you hurled onto the roof. you gave him a smile, standing next to him, “how are you feeling?” he asked, as the two of you sat on the ledge of the building.

you shrugged, knowing if you spoke, you would end up crying, “fine,” you replied, trying not to speak any farther. Tim could see the hurt in your eyes and remained silent the rest of the time.

it was almost the end of the patrolling session when you had caught a stupid thug trying to steal the purse off of a man. you immediately swooped down from the building, standing behind the thug and kicking him from behind the leg as Tim escorted the man to his car.

you stared at the thug with disgust, “you should really learn your lesson to not be stealing from others,” you spat, kicking him in the rib cage again. Tim watched as he saw your eyes light up with pure rage, “maybe the next time you decide to be this much of a low life, you’ll end up in grave,” you continued.

you had blown a couple of punches to the thug as he was starting to cough up blood. Tim immediately ran to you and held you up as the man scrambled up and tried to run away as fast as possible. “calm down!” Tim yelled, holding you against his chest and restricting your arms.

the tears had finally came down your face as sobs racked your body as you moved yourself to cry into Tim’s chest. the lucky part in all of that was that you were in a darkened alley so no one was able to tell who was being a hysterical drama queen.

“it’s okay, you’re okay,” Tim soothed, rubbing your back softly. you hid your face against his chest, “why is it always me?” you screamed, “I’m a great person and have done nothing to deserve what I’ve gotten!” you managed to say,

Tim nodded understandingly.

“I know,” he replied, “but the guy who wins your heart will be so lucky,” he whispered. you looked up to him with teary eyes, “really?” you asked. Tim nodded, “I know it. the next person who ends up with you will be the one. I promise you,” he stated.

you stared at him, confused, “how do you know?” Tim sighed, knowing he might as well rip off his confession like a band-aid, “because I was hoping I could be the next person to take you out on a date,” he finally confessed.

the air was deadly silent as you fixed your eyes on his face. you tried to respond but no words were falling from your lips. Tim felt his heart fall into his stomach as he realized he might’ve ruined your entire friendship with him with his stupid little confession.

“Tim...Tim, look at me.” you grabbed his chin and made him stare at you, “Tim, do you like me?” you asked, trying to read his expression.

Tim nodded as you smiled at his sudden flustered look, “listen, I don’t know how to feel about this but I know there’s something there for you. how about in a few weeks, the two of us can go out on a date to a museum or something?” you grabbed his hand softly.

the two of you looked at each other as Tim wiped the stray tears off your face and nodded, “of course. name a time and day and I’ll be there!” he said. before you respond, you heard both of your beepers going off indicating that your patrol time was over.

“I’ll definitely let you know.”

that was all you managed to say before grabbing your grappling hook and swinging away into the night, leaving a shy and flustered Tim in the alleyway.

#dc #dc comics #dc imagines #dc imagine #dc x reader #tim drake #tim drake imagine #tim drake x reader #red robin #red robin imagine #red robin x reader #bat family #bat fam #jinx writes #tim drake x y/n #red robin x y/n

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obsidiangst · 3 years ago

Note

Congrats on 100 followers! Could you do a thing for #47?

47: “How many more innocent people have to die?”

WARNINGS: Manipulation, vague nudity, non descriptive sex, body horror(?), stabbing, and open end.

Part 1 | Part 2

Zelda had to get out of this. The longer she stayed there, the more she realized she couldn’t just pretend that everything was so hopeless that there was no point in trying. She couldn’t abandon her people- Link didn’t die for her to do that. Though every plan she thought of to do something about her captivity was riskier than the last. If she was the last thing standing between Hyrule and mass destruction, she had to try to find something that wouldn’t kill her.

First thing: She needed to recover the Master Sword. Which would be difficult because the demon was keeping the sword in his quarters and despite being allowed to wander through the fortress, though she hardly did, she imagined she wouldn’t be allowed into his room for no reason. How would she manage to retrieve the sword then? What would come next when she did manage it?

While she sat in ‘her quarters’ deliberating internally about her plan, she looked over as the door opened, the demon entering as he did just about once every day. Whether he was checking on her or just coming to taunt, Zelda had no idea, but she kept her face flat. Link’s skin had long since turned a deep shade of charcoal grey and his hair was entirely silver. If his face hadn’t been the same and she hadn’t witnessed the slow transformation into this new appearance, she wouldn’t have known it was her Link at all.

“What do you want?” Zelda bit out, looking back down at her hands resting on the empty table before her.

“Well, that’s an awfully hostile way to greet someone who came to offer you a way to save the scraps of your kingdom.” He said dryly and Zelda looked back up at him sharply as he made his way to the chair opposite from her.

“You mean trick me into giving you something you want?” Zelda asked and the demon laughed.

“If that’s what you’d like to call it.” He said, pulling the chair back and taking a seat. “I have Castle Town under siege. At any moment I can say the word and have it razed to the ground.” He said, giving her a look like he’d just locked her into a checkmate in an invisible game of chess on the table before them. Zelda glared at him. “Or- I could call it off entirely.”

Her heart both sang and dropped into her stomach at this. So he was here to trick her. Wonderful. But- If it meant saving her kingdom, she would do whatever it took. Even if he wanted her head on a platter, she’d do that if he promised to end the attacks on villages and innocent people trying to live their lives.

“What do you want from me?” Zelda questioned, less harshly this time. Escape be damned, if she could at least do this one thing for her people-

“Marry me. None of your people will respect me as a ruler without a legitimate claim. If I marry you, then I will gain the right to rule.” Zelda stared at the demon dumbfoundedly. Was he serious? Just like that? When he had quite literally just admitted that he was doing so as a grab for power? As if she would-

She could trick him into allowing her into his quarters if she agreed. She would have easy access to the Master Sword then. She’d just have to lay with him- The thought almost made Zelda want to retch right there. If she gave herself to him under the guise of giving into his advances she could take the sword while he was asleep. It- Wasn’t the best situation, but- If she closed her eyes it could at the very least be Link in her head. And then she could kill him with minimal fuss. Zelda took a deep breath and closed her eyes, struggling with the idea of this plan. It seemed simple and yet-

“Think about it, Princess. I get what I want and you get to save your people. And you’ll get to be married to the person you love in a sense.” He edged her on, trying hard to convince her to accept his proposal. Oh- He really wanted this didn’t he? The demon who hadn’t even bothered to tell her his name since he had taken over Link’s body all those months ago-

“That’s-” Zelda stopped, unsure what to say still. She wanted the violence to end, but- She also didn’t want to use her own body in such a way. It was low and manipulative. But she had been being manipulated this entire time, so why should she care if it was or not?

“Come on, Princess. How many more innocent people have to die before you swallow your pride and submit?” He taunted her again. Oh, she wished she could slap him again right then- Her unease was cut through with anger. How dare he question her loyalty to her people- She’d show him.

“Fine.” She answered finally. “On the condition that you stop all violent activity against my people by this afternoon, I will agree to marry you.” He grinned wickedly.

“Consider it done.”

The demon was beyond pleased with himself and his guards had celebrated loudly for the rest of the day and well into the night at this ‘victory’. Oh, if only they knew the hell they would pay when Zelda got a hold of the Master Sword. Of Link’s sword. She’d make them wish that Link had killed the demon when he came to the fortress in the first place. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned and she was a goddess and was fucking livid.

It was late the next evening when Zelda exited her chambers, padding her way barefoot down the hallway to where she knew the demon slept. Her heart was thudding loudly in her ears as she approached the door between her and the demon. Was this really about to happen? Would he be rough with her? Would she bruise? Would he talk down to her like she was nothing but a whore or would the tiny remnants of Link that remained in his behavior towards her come through and he would be gentle with her during her first time? She steadied herself before opening the door to the demon's chambers.

His crimson eyes fixated on her from where he was laid out over his bed that was much like her own. Odd that it wasn’t more lavish, but she supposed that wasn’t important.

“Oh? And to what do I owe a visit from my wife-to-be?” He teased her, propping himself up on his elbow and draping his other arm across his midsection. Damn him- He knew that was something LInk would do when she got his attention. Zelda slipped in and shut the door behind her.

“I’m- Tired of resisting.” She said, making sure that her voice had a tiny whine at the end of it. Like she was close to tears. Lady Impa would have been proud of her acting skills right now as the demon was eating it up. He raised a brow at her and smirked, gesturing her closer with a curl of a single finger.

“Are you now? Well, it’s about time.” He said, sitting up and watching her as she made a show of hesitantly locking the door behind her and ever so timidly making her way to the bed. “Don’t be shy, I won’t bite… Not that hard at least.” He teased, chuckling darkly and Zelda blushed.

Holy Hylia above, she was really about to do this. She didn’t have to fake the nerves as she crawled into his bed and let him touch her and disrobe her. The tremor in her hands as she started to touch him back was as real as the situation she was in. For all the demon’s aggression towards her in the past, he made sure to at least attempt to soothe her nerves, but every thought she had was plagued by the knowledge that this wasn’t Link like she was trying to pretend it was. This was a demon.

Thankfully, Link, or at least his physical body, was also inexperienced and wasn’t able to last too long. It had felt… Alright. Zelda would have been much more relaxed and emotionally fulfilled if she had been with Link instead of this spirit piloting his form.

“See, that wasn’t so bad.” THe demon rumbled into her ear when they were finished. He laid against her back, holding her naked form against his own. “I even made you finish~” He had, in fact, not done so. She had faked it to stroke his ego a little bit more into relaxing. She had been trying to focus on anything other than the demon the whole time: her plan to escape, going home and celebrating the end of the war, mourning everyone they had lost, mourning Link- But it was done now at least, she could turn her attention to her next step.

Of course, he didn’t make it easy.

With his arms around her waist and his face pressed against the back of her shoulder, it would be very hard for Zelda to get up out of the bed without waking him up. Especially because the way he held her wasn’t just a loose hold, he was gripping her firmly. Fuck, this may have been a mistake.

Though- She did have time to look around the room now. She didn’t know where exactly the sword was located or hidden, so she glanced around the parts of the room that she could see. There were weapons and baubles everywhere, but finally, Zelda was able to make out the golden triforce on the scabbard of the Master Sword in the corner of the room, concealed partially by a few other weapons.

Zelda shifted once. Then twice. Then a third time to see if the demon was awake or not. When he didn’t respond to her shifting in any way, his grip even loosening unconsciously around her, she knew it likely was safe to try and get up. If he woke up she could say she needed to use the bathroom or to… clean up from their activities. Carefully, Zelda squirmed and twisted from the demon’s grasp, finding the dress that she came in, not liking the bite of the cold air on her bare skin before picking her way carefully over to the corner where the Master Sword was.

There was no way this was going to be this easy- Surely this demon wasn’t so oblivious to think that she would just- Sleep with him without an ulterior motive. She had resisted doing it for months now, that wasn’t just going to change overnight.

She gripped the hilt of the Master Sword and carefully tried to move it from behind the other blades trapping it against the wall. Finally, Zelda was able to pull the hilt from behind the other blades and then carefully extracted the scabbard and blade from the tangle of weaponry.

That’s when a movement caught Zelda’s eye and she looked at the stack of blades on the wall. One of the swords crossguards caught on the Master Sword’s own crossguard as she freed it and it tilted precariously to one side, then started falling, falling- And clattered loudly on the ground, hitting two more on the way down, adding them to the noise as they also clattered against the stone floors.

Zelda whipped around to face the bed- Sure enough the demon’s eyes were open and fixed on her in a dangerous way.

“And what exactly do you think you’re doing Princess?” The demon questioned as he got up, not bothering to put clothes on as he put his feet on the ground and began making his way to her. This was bad! Very bad! But she had the sword! She had no idea how to use a sword, but! How hard could it be??

Panicking, Zelda yanked the blade out of its scabbard and sent a quick prayer to the Goddesses to help her as the demon paused in his advancements. Then he started to chuckle.

“Ohoho, is this really what you want to do, Princess?” He taunted, narrowing his eyes at her. “What are you going to do? Kill me? Kill him?” He said, edging around her, trying to circle so that he was between her and the door. Zelda stepped closer to the door, keeping her back to the wall and the point of the Master Sword towards the demon’s chest.

“You think this is all a game. You want to use me and him like pawns. It’s going to end. Tonight.” Zelda said. The demon tilted his head to one side and scoffed.

“Perhaps it will.” He said, raising a hand as a myriad of shadows congealed into the form of a blade not unlike the Master Sword but pitch black. “I should have guessed that you weren’t going to concede that easily, but- You put on a convincing show. You were rather determined to do this, weren’t you.” He said, gripping the blade tightly. Oh shit- Oh shit, they were really about to fight weren’t they? Oh this was bad- This was a horrible plan, oh goddesses help her-

The demon swung and by some divine fluke, Zelda parried the strike. How? She wasn’t entirely sure. She’d never used a sword in anything other than formal ceremonies before, by all means he should have just stuck her like a pig- Another strike and she parried again, her feet taking her back half a step, but she wasn’t dying yet so that was fine.

“What-?” The demon furrowed his brow and eyed her, clearly seeing the surprise on her face. “Stop doing that!” He snarled as he struck again. Once again, Zelda blocked. The demon snarled at her now and began rapidly trying to strike her. And as if the Master Sword had a mind of its own and control over her feet, Zelda blocked, parried, and pivoted away from each strike, much to the annoyance of the demon.

When Zelda thought that there was going to be no end to this cycle of strikes and deflections, she saw an opening. The demon raised his sword up as if to bring it crashing down upon her head- and left his entire abdomen open. Zelda pointed the tip of the Master Sword directly at his stomach and stepped forwards, putting her weight and everything she had in her behind the thrust.

The sickening sound of the blade cutting through flesh and sinew was far louder than Zelda had been anticipating and she let go of the sword, staggering backwards as she processed what she had- somehow managed to do. Waves of nausea overcame her as she heard the noise on repeat in her mind. Goddess above, what did she just do? The demon stared at the hilt of the sword as it stuck out of his midsection. The sword was buried so deeply into him the tip was also sticking out of his back.

Then a barrage of disturbing noises and gargles exited Link’s mouth as the demon shuddered, dark black liquid beginning to drip freely from his mouth, nose and eyes and then evaporating quickly away into the air like black little puffs of smoke. He dropped the jet sword, which also faded into smoke before it hit the ground.

“Damn, you- No! I-” The demon gargled out and more and more of the shadowy smoke began to leave Link’s body. Zelda watched in horror as Link’s charcoal grey skin lightened and his ash colored hair grew golden brown again and as his body wretched the last of the shadows out, crimson eyes blinked shut and finally opened blue once more.

Zelda could have cried seeing that beautiful blue.

“Link!” She cried, overjoyed that he seemingly was back for a split moment before a pained grunt left him and he went down to one knee, clutching at the Master Sword lodged in his abdomen. Zelda blanched as she realized that she now had to save Link a second time from something a lot more dangerous than a demon piloting his body. Oh- Oh shit-

#100 follower request #zelink #corrupt link #legend of zelda

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suchalonelysunflower · 4 years ago

Text

You’re the voice I hear inside my head, the reason that I’m singing (l.h)

Pairing: Luke Hemmings X Fem!Reader

Summary: Luke needs help writing a song, luckily you’re there to help him. You just hope your feelings for him won’t interfere in the writing process.

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, Angst if you blink. The reader uses she/her pronouns. Language, invasion of privacy, unprotected sex (don’t do it guys) oral female reciving. Maybe some grammatical errors (English it’s not my first language, sorry)

Word count: 4.5k

Author’s Note: Hello ✨ I’ve been working with this Luke piece since August and I finally stop procrastinating in order to finish it 🎉 Reblogs, comments, feedbacks and likes are always welcome and encouraged! I love to hear from you guys ❤️ Hope you like it and Happy Reading 🦋🌻

My materialist // Wanna be on my tag list?

He did it.

After almost two weeks of not getting anything good out of his head Luke finally beat the writer’s block.

He jumped out of his seat in the island kitchen and ran towards his music room with a very excited Petunia walking behind him with her tongue hanging out of her mouth. Luke grabbed his notebook and started writing as soon as his ass hit the cushions of the little sofa he had there, getting already lost in the sound.

His eyes filled with joy as he wrote down the melody, muttering some words to go along with it and bobbing his head as the rhythm got better and better. He couldn’t feel prouder.

It wasn’t like him to have such a strong writer‘s block, whenever it happened his band mates were there to help him get through it. However, this time they weren’t here, they were still at the studio where he was supposed to be.

It was an unanimous decision, they all new Luke wasn’t at his best, always getting frustrated and closing himself up to others, refusing any help until he could come up with something on his own, so they recommended him to rest at home for a couple days before he totally burns out and, reluctantly, he agreed.

But all of that self pity ended now that he got a melody going on and a few lyrics written down. To say that he was in cloud nine was an understatement.

A few moments later his phone started ringing. He was doing so well that he didn’t think to answer it until he saw your name pop up.

“Leech!” He said with a smile once he picked up.

You scrunch your nose at the old nickname. You have known the man for at least 19 years and he still refuses to let go of the fact that you didn’t want to be his friend at the beginning because someone told you boys had leeches hidden in their pockets.

But, alas, you knew the nickname was not going anywhere so you decided to ignore it just this time “Hello, Hems!”

“I’m so glad you called! Just in time, actually” He said cheerfully.

“Well someone sounds happy for a change” You chuckled “What’s gotten you so amicable today, love?”

“I can’t tell you over the phone, you need to come in order to know what it is” Luke teased, not needing to see your face to know that you were rolling your eyes at him.

You chuckled again “Good thing I’m on my way then with some pizza. I’ll be there in approximately one Jonas Brothers’ song”

He laughed “You’re too good to me”

You sighed when he ended the call just a few seconds later “Only if you knew…”

You hated the cliche of falling for your best friend, but in your defense: your best friend was Luke Hemings, how could you not?

Once “Lovebug” ended you found yourself parking in his driveway. You shook your head at the irony of it all as you grabbed the pizza box and headed to the door. You were about to knock when suddenly he opened the door, flashing you one of his signature smiles that made your tummy feel weird.

“Were you waiting by the door?” You asked as you extended your arm to give him a side hug, which he gladly took and hugged you back, bringing you even closer to him. You just hoped he couldn’t feel the loud beatings of your heart.

“By the window, actually” Luke laughed as he took the pizza box from you and walked to the kitchen, placing it on top of the counter “I just can’t wait to show you what I got!”

You could see how excited he was, the gleam in his eyes was everlasting as he talked and his smile reached his eyes with ease, making little wrinkles appear by the sides of them. You smiled back at him and nodded, letting him lead the way.

He quickly took your hand, almost running as he guided you to his mini studio. You sat on his sofa, petting Petunia as he accommodated himself and his guitar.

“I figured it out!” Luke said with pride in his eyes “I conquered the block!”

“Luke that’s amazing!” You knew he was struggling a lot lately, that was one of the main reasons you checked up on him more often this past few weeks “Omg, I can’t wait to hear it!”

Luke nodded and wasted no time in starting playing his new song.

“I thought I had it all, thought I let you go. But truth be told, I’m just a fool in a one man show”

You listened carefully to what he was saying, loving the lyrics already before you started noticing something weird in the melody… there was something familiar in it, but you couldn’t pinpoint what.

“The secrets I held. The lies I told myself. All were worth it cause it meant I get to see your face”

Once the chorus started, you knew where you’ve heard this before.

Luke was staring at you the whole time since he started singing, wanting nothing more than his best friend’s approval, but was met with your concerned face as he continued.

“I never give you away, cause I’ve already made that mistake. If-“ He stopped completely when he saw the way you were looking at him “You hate it.”

“What?” You asked, taken by surprise by his hurt face.

“You can tell me if it’s bad, you know? I won’t get mad or anything but-“

You cut him off, shaking your head as you place your hand on his thigh “No, Luke. It’s not that at all”

“Then what, Y/N?” He said, putting his guitar away from him “Cause you don’t give me that look unless you’re feeling somewhat uncomfortable. I know the lyrics need arrangements and-“

“Luke!” You interrupted his rambling one again, knowing how he gets when he’s flustered “The lyrics are fine! Everything is fine! I really liked that last line you sang. But…”

“But?”

You sighed “Let me show you something”

You took your phone out of your bag and started searching through your songs until you found what you were looking for “Please, don’t be mad” You begged with a sigh as you pressed play on one of Taylor Swift’s songs.

Luke didn’t understand what you were talking about until he heard the first few chords of the song. His eyes winded as plates as he listened to the melody he swore he just invented out of the blue, a deep disappointment came across him at the realization he just repeated a melody that someone else already created.

You paused the song when you noticed his expression change all of the sudden. The gleam in his eyes completely disappeared as a dark gloom clouded his blue irises “Luke?” You asked, but the tall blonde was already getting up and started walking out of the studio “Luke!”

You followed him into the hall, where you could catch a glimpse of him tugging on his curls and cursing to himself. You called his name again with no avail, he wasn’t listening as he drowned in self pity and embarrassment.

“I should’ve known!” He said loudly this time “Fuck! It was too good to be true”

“It’s okay, Lu-“ You tried, but he quickly turned around and cut you off.

“It’s not okay, Y/N!” He yelled, making you take a step back. It wasn’t like him to get so angry to the point of yelling, but you can’t say that you don’t understand his frustration “When is plagiarism ever okay?! I’m such a fucking idiot”

“Hey, no, no, no, no, no” You interrupted, standing on your tiptoes to grab him by his shoulders and make him look at you “You won’t talk about my best friend like that”

Luke looked away, not wanting to meet your eyes at this moment. So you took matters into your own hands, literally, and placed your palms on his cheeks, softly squeezing them together and forcing him to look at you “The song is great” You said “Yes, the melodies are similar but you can work on that. You’re Luke Hemmings for crying out loud!”

He placed his hands over yours and pushed them away in a soft movement, not letting go of you as he did “Well, Luke Hemmings can’t write a song even if his life depended on it” He sighed, more calmed now “I don’t know what to do! I don’t even know if there is something I could do”

You thought for a second “Maybe not,” You said “But there might be something we could do”

Luke furrowed his eyebrows “Huh?”

“Yeah,” You nodded “I know I basically know nothing about melodies and composing a song. But I know a lot about poems and writings!” You said with a smile “I also know that you’ve been having a rough time lately and I just want to help in every way I can. I hate to see you like this, Luke. Let me help you?”

He stared at you and immediately knew that he couldn’t say no to your pleasing eyes. The fact that you wanted to help him took him by surprise, but he should’ve known, you have the biggest heart on earth and he knew he could count on you, always. Hell, you even moved to another continent to support him and his friends. You were always there for him, always taking care of him while also making fun of him and just being the best friend there is. And now you wanted to help him get over his writer's block? He could kiss you right now!

“Woah, slow down tiger” You laughed “We need to make a song first”

Did he say that out loud? Oh shit.

“I- just. Um-“ He rambled, trying to hide the pink that colored his cheeks “Thank you”

You just nodded and walked towards the kitchen, part of it because you were still hungry, but in reality it was to hide the way you couldn’t stop smiling.

“C’mon, Hems! Time to write a song”

You have seriously underestimated the whole writing and composing process of a song. How could Taylor Swift make it look so easy?!

It’s been almost a week and you have been staying with Luke 24/7 locked inside his little studio as you revise song idea after song idea, going back and towards without really going anywhere and only getting out to walk Petunia, eat and go to the bathroom. Once one of you gets too tired you decide to take a nap in Luke's bedroom like you always do since you were kids. None of this served as much help to calm down your feelings towards the tall Australian. In fact, you are almost sure they grew stronger than before.

You couldn’t help but get lost in him. Every subtle movement he makes; how he licks his lips and bites them every time he is concentrating on something; how his fingers move so smoothly on the guitar or the piano; how he hums to himself in that melodic voice that gives you chills everytime you listen to it… But there is also the way his eyes linger on you for more than a second; how he lays his head on your shoulder and starts playing with your hand; how he cuddles with you at night and always gives you one kiss on the cheek every morning and every night. He’s got you hooked and he doesn’t even know it.

“What do you think of this, little leech?” The oblivious man called, making you break away from your thoughts as he played some notes on the piano.

It was a sweet melody, melancholic but comforting.

“So we are settled that it’s going to be a balad?” You ask once he's done.

He pressed his lips together in a fine line “Not sure, feels like it’s missing something”

“Almost like a breakdown of other instruments, right?” You ask and he smiles.

“It’s almost like you can read my mind, love”

You smiled, hiding your blushed cheeks from his sight as your gaze drifted back to your little notebook of poems. And, almost without noticing, you start humming.

“Mmmh, Hope and I pray, darling that you will stay… butterfly lies..”

“Take them away” Luke finishes for you. He slowly gets up and sits right next to you, placing his head on your shoulders as you close your book “You’re really good with this,” He said, interlocking his fingers with yours “Why won’t you let me see more of your writings?”

He lifted his other hand to try to snatch the book out of your hands, but you were faster and put it out of his reach “Cause! It’s private” You laughed “Don’t want you to laugh at me or something”

“I could never laugh at you,” He said softly.

You turn your head to the side and almost choke on air as you notice his proximity, making you hyper aware of his breath on your lips and the way he was looking into your eyes, almost like if he wanted to say something but didn’t have the words to do it.

“Luke, I-“ You said in a whisper, his eyes fixed on your lips as he hummed “I- I think I’m a little bit hungry…” You lied, not knowing exactly what to do.

Luke just looked at you and nodded, not hiding his disappointment as he separated himself a little bit so you could both head out to the kitchen. Once there, he went to the stereo and connected his phone so you could have a more relaxing atmosphere.

You started making dinner, nothing too elaborate but complicated enough so you could focus on that rather than what just happened between you two. You knew you were just friends to him, so this new change in his demeanor was surprising and confusing to say the least.

Suddenly, your favorite song started playing. It was an old jazz song that reminded you of home and soon enough you found yourself humming along.

Luke stared at you as you prepared the meal, completely awestruck as he heard you sing softly along the lyrics. He smiled to himself and walked up to you, offering you his hand before asking: “Dance with me?”

You chuckled as you took his hand and let him guide you to the living room. He placed his hand on your lower back as he held your palm with the other one. You placed your free hand on his shoulder and let him guide you through the melody, already feeling the beating of your heart go ten times faster than it should.

You softly placed your head on his chest, relaxing as you felt the vibrations of his soft voice singing along as you slowly danced together.

“I like this” He murmured while his hand caressed your back and his chin rested on your head, placing a little kiss to it.

“Me too”

You got out of the shower and put on one of Luke’s shirts, ready to get on the bed and let all your thoughts rest for the day as you drift to sleep. You sighed as you looked in the mirror and tried to calm your feelings down, hoping that this time your heart will listen.

You headed to Luke’s room, wanting nothing more than to lay down and relax. But you never expected to see what you saw.

When Luke noticed that you had came into the room he quickly closed your notebook and placed it on your side of the bed, hoping that you didn’t realize what he was doing.

“Luke, what the fuck!?” You asked in an angry tone as you walked to the bed and grabbed your notebook in your hands “I told you this was private! How could you betray my trust like that?!”

Luke looked terrified, he never liked you angry, especially if you were angry at him. He tried to speak, but you quickly turned around and started grabbing all your things and put it in the bag you brought to stay over.

“Wha-What are you doing?” He asked confused.

“I’m going home” You said in a huff, turning around to put on your leggings and shoes.

“What?!” Luke jumped from his side of the bed and almost ran to you “Y/N, please. I’m sorry! I didn’t know it meant that much to you!” You ignored him “Please don’t go! It was a mistake, I’m sorry!”

You glared at him “I asked you not to do it! God, Luke! This is a total invasion of my privacy. Best friends don’t do that to each other!”

You tried to walk past him, but he quickly grabbed your arm and made you stop “Well best friends tell each other everything, don’t you think?!” Now he seemed angry as well.

“What haven’t I told you?!”

Luke rolled his eyes, letting go of your arm “Uh, I don’t know! Maybe the fact that you are in love with someone and you didn’t tell me?!”

You were taken aback by his words, furrowing your brows in confusion. He took your silence as a sign to continue.

“The poems, the writings you have there… They are beautiful and heartbreaking, Y/N” He explained, much more calmed “All those words are impossible to write unless you feel what you are writing. The message is right there, clear as water and you didn’t want me to read it. Why?”

His blue eyes seemed like a storm when he looked at you. You could tell he was hurting from all of this, couldn’t he tell who those writings are for?

“Why do you think? You blabbering idiot?” You asked softly, eyes meeting the floor, hoping he got the message.

Luke’s whole demeanor softened and he took in your words. His heart was beating fast as he took two steps to be completely in front of you.

He cupped your cheeks into his hands and made you look at him, telling you everything you need to know with just one look.

“Luke-“ He didn’t have you time to respond as he captured your lips with his, making you drop your stuff to the ground as you started kissing him back.

You placed your hands on the back of his head, softly caressing his curls as he deepened the kiss, parting your lips so he could explore your mouth as he wished for so many years now and making you let out a soft moan as he did so.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this” He said, kissing you once again “I thought I was being too obvious”

You chuckled “Well, not obvious enough, Hemmings” You pecked his lips one more time.

He smiled into the kiss as he let his hands wander down your back, softly squeezing your ass as he started walking you towards the bed, letting you fall delicately as he hovered over you.

You whimpered as you felt his lips trailing down your jaw and neck, sucking lightly and leaving marks wherever he went.

“Luke, what-?” You moaned, tangling your fingers around his curls and pulling him up to meet your gaze “What does this mean for us? What does this make us?”

Without wasting a breath he said confidently “I want to make you mine, love. If you let me, would you be mine? And I’ll be yours”

You looked at him in the eyes and you swore you’d never fallen harder than this.

You nodded “I was always yours, my love”

Luke smiled as he cupped your cheek with one of his hands, bringing your lips together in a kiss filled with love, passion and need. All that you guys ever wanted from each other.

You could feel his other hand wandering around under your/his shirt, softly caressing your breast and making you moan.

“Can I take this off, love?” He asked, playing with the hem of your shirt.

You nodded and wasted no time in getting rid of the fabric, throwing it somewhere around the room before his lips started marking his way down your neck again, this time with hunger as he trailed down from your throat to your breast, kissing one of them as his hand massaged the other, switching from time to time so none of them gets neglected for long.

Your soft moans and whimpers were music to his ears as he felt his erection growing harder with every little breath that came over your mouth. You could feel his erection through his pants, making you groan as you moved your hips to get some kind of friction where you needed it the most.

Luke noticed your little desperate movements and smirked as he let his hand travel down your stomach, ghosting over your sensitive bund over your clothes.

“Is this okay?” He asked when his fingers started pulling down the waistband of your leggings and panties.

“Yes,” You whimpered “Yes, Luke. Please”

You lifted your hips to help him take off your clothes completely, leaving you naked under him.

Luke sucked on a breath and moaned once he got a glimpse of your naked body “So perfect” He whispered, kissing your forehead “So beautiful” He kissed your lips, only to continue kissing down on your body till he reached your aching pussy “So wet for me, my love” He moaned before placing a kiss on your clit, making you thrust your hips at the sudden touch.

He grabbed your hips and pin them down as he started fucking into you with his tongue. Sucking and licking at all the right spots in a rhythm that made you see stars.

You grabbed onto his curls and brought him closer to you. Moaning his name over and over again “Luke,” You pant “I need more, Luke. Please”

Luke got the message as he added a finger to his ministrations, pumping in and out of your entrance “Is this good, Y/N?” But his question was answered by a sinful moan of yours “Talk to me, love” He said, adding another finger.

“Fuck! So good, Luke” You moaned, letting your head fall on the soft pillow “So. Fucking. Good”

He continued to pump his fingers into you at a fast pace while his mouth was locked on your clit, sucking and licking it with delight like it was his favorite meal. Groaning as he felt you clench around his digits when he hit one special spot inside you “Are you close, beautiful?”

You whimpered and nodded in return, not being able to form a coherent sentence at this moment of pure ecstasy.

“Cum for me, my love” He said, kissing the inside of your thigh and speeding his pace “Cum all over my fingers” And so you did.

Luke groaned as he felt your juices drip past his fingers and onto the mattress, swearing that he’s never seen such a prettier sight than your face right now.

You whined as he pulled his digits out of you, but the tight knot in your belly grew as you heard him pulling out his pants and sliding back between your legs.

His face was mere inches from yours once he settled back on the bed and on top of you. You smiled.

“Hi” You said, trying to catch your breath after your first orgasm.

“Hey” He smiled, kissing your forehead and pressing his against yours “Are you sure you want this?” He asked “Its okay if you don’t and we can stop whenever you-“

You shut him off with a kiss “I want this” You said in a whisper “I want you”

That was all the confirmation he needed. Slowly he started sliding into you, making you both moan because of the stretch.

“Are you okay?” He asked, stopping when he saw your face wincing in pain.

You nodded “So big, need a minute” You said. Luke understood and started pepper kissing your face, not leaving any space untouched until you gave him the go-to to keep going.

Luke groaned as he bottom down, giving you a minute to get used to his length. You were moaning his name as you felt him deep inside you, quickly replacing the pain with pleasure.

“Move. Please, Luke” You begged.

He started moving his hips at a slow pace, not wanting to hurt you if he went too hard too fast. It was only when you wrapped your legs around his waist and brought him closer to you that he got the message.

“Faster, fuck. Please, go faster!” You moaned into his ear. Every little sound you made going straight to his cock, quickening the pace as he started fucking you fast and rough.

Your moans became higher pitch as you got closer and closer to your climax. Your nails ran down his back, leaving red trails for you to trace later.

“Fuck, Y/N” Luke groaned “I’m so close, love”

His hips started thrusting relentlessly, chasing his climax as well as yours, making the bed hit the wall with every thrust of his hips.

“I’m gonna cum” You moaned with every move of his hip “I’m gonna cum, Luke. Oh god”

You let out a pornographic moan as you felt your walls clench around his cock, letting go all over him as you tried to catch your breath in all your euphoria.

Soon enough you felt Luke’s thrusts become sloppy and harder, twitching inside you as he painted your walls with his release as he moaned your name over and over again.

He grabbed your cheek and pulled your face closer to him so you could kiss as you ride down your highs, whispering sweet praises to each other as he pulled out of you and cuddled you close.

“That was…”

“I know”

You both laughed softly as Luke kissed your cheek and got up to bring a warm cloth to clean you up and also grabbing a shirt so you could sleep more comfortably. He laid down beside you and pulled you closer to him, kissing the shell of your ear until you both drifted to sleep.

You woke up a couple of hours later, feeling the other side of the bed cold as ice. You looked for Luke around the room but were unable to find him. The wheels in your head started turning as you looked around the room, that’s when you heard the soft sound of the piano playing in the background.

With a shake of your head you got up and started making your way to the grand piano he had in his living room and, sure enough, Luke was sitting there writing the song.

“Inspiration struck?” You asked, making him jump at the sound of your voice.

He visibly relaxed as he saw you walk up to him in nothing but his shirt “Needed to write it down” He said, kissing your lips as you sat next to him.

You looked at the music sheets he got scattered around “You almost finished? How?”

“Turns out I just needed my muse by my side. Admitting my love for her was the only thing I needed to finally get everything right again”

You blushed at his words and pulled him closer for another kiss “Will you sing it to me?” He nodded.

“Lover of mine..”

Tag: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof

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dreadpoetssociety · 4 years ago

Text

I’m Many Things

TW: Mention of sexual harassment

Note: I’ve never really posted these before, so please be lax if it’s bad lol. I don’t see a lot of sibling fics (understandably lol) but I feel weird writing like romantic relationshipy reader insert fics with characters that are significantly older than me. Anywayyy, here goes. This is going to be short for now.

Note pt 2: Idk if this really is any good. Looking at it now it seems a little off or I can’t really tell if I got Spencer right, but I tried!! It’s kinda rushed, I’ll admit. Also hopefully I used a gif right lol. This is kinda cringey and I promise I’m better than this fic, but I just really wanted to break the ice and start posting them, so enjoy!! (if you have any prompts/ideas please send me some ! I wanna write some more :))

()()()()()()

Summary: Your brother, Spencer Reid, has to have a meeting with your principal.

Spencer Reid x Sister!reader

(or should I say reider hahahah I’ll shut up.)

By now, Spencer was pretty familiar with the hallways of your high school, given how many times he’d been called in for meetings with various different staff members, or even from the parent-teacher conferences alone. Thankfully, the office was at the front entrance of the building, blocked off from the rest of the hallway with floor to ceiling windows, with one door.

Reid had been informed in a very interesting phone call with the principal himself of what you had done. He was used to the petty things from you, talking back to teachers, skipping a class, vandalizing something, but the one thing you had never done, at least until now, was get into a physical altercation with another student during school. Let alone punch the principal’s son. Even so, despite the disappointment, Spencer still sensed that something was wrong in the sense that he understood you wouldn’t just do something like that out of nowhere.

He was greeted by the women at the desk as he walked in.

“Hello, Dr. Reid. Nice to see you again.” she smiled.

“You too, if only it were under different circumstances.” Reid replied with a polite smile.

“She’s in front of the office, as usual.” the woman gestured to Reid’s right. The office had many rooms in it on its own, its own hallway and all that. Spencer walked behind the front desk and turned, seeing you sitting in a plastic chair near the end of the hall.

You turned when you heard footsteps coming down the hall.

“I know how this looks, but I promise it’s not like that.” you began explaining.

“You say that every time Y/N. This is the third time this semester I’ve had to leave work because you’ve gotten into some kind of trouble.” Spencer replied, obviously disappointed.

“This is different! Mr. Beck is being so stupid just because it’s his own son. You don’t understand, that kid is awful.” you said.

“Y/N did he hit you?” Spencer asked.

“Well, I mean, no but-”

“That’s exactly what I mean. I understand that you’ve had it rough, but really Y/N getting violent?” Typically, Spencer would always hear you out. He was understanding, and genuinely listened, but the team was just about to leave on a case that was already stressful, and now it’s being delayed, “Y/N there’s a serial killer out west killing people every few hours, peoples’ lives are on the line and this is where I am.”

He’d never spoken to you that way. It was really unlike him, and he never put the job before you most of the time, and this hit you where it hurts.

It was then that you both were called into the principal’s private office.

“Dr. Reid, I apologize for pulling you from your busy schedule.” the man known as Mr. Beck greeted as he stood up and offered his hand, which Spencer shook.

“It’s no problem, sir, it’s not your fault.” Spencer then saw the other boy sitting in the chair on the far side of the room with a very swollen eye that would definitely be very purple later, a day or two to be more specific he thought. For teens, it takes about that long for the hemoglobin to change the red color to a more blue or purple he explained to himself in his own head, because that’s just how his mind automatically works. Either way, it was worse than he thought it’d be.

“Now, we’ve already talked about the issue over the phone, and as far as consequences go, we’ve been very lenient with Y/N for so long.” Mr. Beck began, “If I’m being completely honest, after what happened today, expulsion is being very highly considered.”

“You’re going to expel me? You didn’t even listen to my side of the story, I’ve been sitting on that goddamn chair this entire time! You’re just taking your son’s word over mine you biased a-”

“Y/N!” Spencer interrupted, “Mr. Beck, I understand completely why you’re upset and I’m appreciative of you patience, but expulsion seems a bit extreme. I promise I’ll talk to her and she’ll get the consequences she deserves and this won’t happen again. Suspension I can understand.”

Great. you thought, Serial killer and now he has to save me from expulsion. Way to go again, disappointment.

“What? You didn’t even hear what happened! Your son was-”

“Y/N that is quite enough!” Mr. Beck nearly yelled, “We’ve given you so many chances and today, my son tells me that you’ve been making fun of him and violently hurt him without reason! It is unacceptable!”

You genuinely laughed at that point, “I’m sorry what? Your son told you that I made fun of HIM? Have you ever looked at your precious son’s phone?”

“Y/N shut up. You know what you’ve done.” Mr. Beck’s son snapped. Spencer found the phrasing quite odd. His demeanor was off putting, and he didn’t seem nervous at all. Granted, he could be in shock. Spencer recognized him, though, from pictures you’d shown him when complaining about pretty much every student in school, “You know you came up to me randomly. You know you harass me literally all of the time, and for what?”

Spencer noticed that this kid didn’t look anyone in the eye when he spoke, but slightly behind them.

“Mr. Beck, did Y/N ever say why she hit your son?”

“What does it matter what she says? She cannot be trusted and this behavior is not new. My son would not lie about this.” Mr. Beck sounded offended.

“As a staff member, though, you shouldn’t let your biases get in the way.”

“She still physically harmed another student. Regardless of why, she must face consequences.”

“Mr. Beck, it is only respectful to at least hear what she has to say.” Spencer argued. The young boy in the far seat’s face changed. He was nervous now. Mr. Beck sighed, and nodded towards you.

“Mr. Beck, this my come as a surprise to you, but I was NOT harassing your son. He was harassing another girl between classes. She had sent nudes to him, and then I don’t know if they had a falling out or something, but she was trying to like, I don’t know, break up with him I guess and he was following her around and pushed her up against a locker and tried to like, kiss her even though she said no. So I punched him, and then he threatened to send those pictures of her to everyone.” you stated, “Mr. Beck honestly, I’m many things, but a bully isn’t one of them. And no offense, but the last person I’m interested in even looking at is freaking Kyle Beck of all people.” you ranted. Spencer realized then that you were being genuine. You were a good liar to the naked eye, but always gave off the basic tells that Spencer could pick up on when you weren’t being truthful.

It was then that Spencer’s disappointment actually changed to pride. Although he didn’t condone the violence, he understood that you were a loner of sorts, and appreciated that you’d stand up for someone like that.

“Dad, she’s so full of crap! I would never do that, you know me!” he yelled. Reid noticed the small tremor in his voice, and quick change of behavior.

“Y/N, I know I raised my son differently.”

“Check his phone.” you said.

“I know what he does.” Mr. Beck snapped.

“Sir, I believe she’s telling the truth. I say this as unbiased as I can, but I can tell when she’s lying. I am a profiler, you know.” Reid backed you up. He didn’t usually pull out the profiler card, but reading the room, now seemed like a good time. Mr. Beck was taken back for a moment before sighing, and his son’s face completely drained of color when asked to unlock the device.

It wasn’t long after that that the truth came to the surface. Your sentence went from expulsion to a month’s worth of detention.

Walking to the car, Spencer said, “You know Y/N, I don’t condone the violence, and don’t exactly agree with the way you handled that, but I am proud of you for sticking up for that girl.”

“Yeah.” you replied. He noticed that you didn’t seem happy, but more so upset.

“Y/N, what’s bothering you?”

“Nothing.”

“I’m profiler, Y/N. You know I don’t believe that.” he said. You sighed.

“I don’t mean to disappoint you all the time,” you started as Reid’s heart sank, “I know you should be out there saving people rather than staying here and dealing with me. I’m not worth the time. I don’t know why I’m this way, I’m really sorry.”

“Y/N...” Spencer realized his mistake, “I was just stressed when I said that. You’re not a disappointment and shouldn’t apologize for just being who you are. Don’t undermine your importance, either. You mean more to me than the job.”

You smiled, “So does this mean I can come with you and look at crime scenes?”

“Absolutely not.” Reid chuckled.

“Aw, but it would be so cool! I’ll be good I promise!”

“Y/N, crime scenes aren’t cool, and you would cause trouble before we even got there.” he said, jokingly, “I bet you would even try to fly the jet.”

“Oh my god, I never even thought about doing that. That’s such a good idea.”

“And that’s why you’re not allowed to come.” Reid smiled, as they both got in the car and drove towards home. Spencer appreciated the ten minute ride while he could, knowing he would be leaving soon after.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #reid #sister reader #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #spencer reid x sister reader #criminal minds x reader #sorry if these tags are wrong #spencer #matthew gray gubler

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disgruntledspacedad · 4 years ago

Text

Save a Horse

pairing: Javier Peña x reader

summary: (fluff, slice of life) You ride a horse. Javi has a heart attack.

words: 2kish

warnings: language. Utter ignorance of ranch life, but Ears is enthusiastic, at least. No horses were harmed in the writing of this fic.

a/n: unbeta’d.

It was Pop’s idea to start with.

“Have you ever ridden a horse, Orejas?” he breaks the easy morning silence suddenly, resting his empty mug on the counter and shooting you an expression that can only be described as conspiratorial.

“No,” you answer honestly, thinking wryly that Pop certainly knows how to catch your attention.

Beside you, Javi stiffens, and you can feel his gaze heavy on you. He’s been a little jumpy ever since he’d got you back, and with good reason, really. You rest a reassuring hand on his thigh and squeeze, receiving just as much comfort from the gesture as you’re offering.

This man is your rock.

Pop is still watching you expectantly, and you feel your lips tug upward. It’s so easy to smile at Chucho Peña. “But I’m game to try anything twice.”

Pop grins, and Javi blusters a deep sigh.

It’s nice outside. For being early November, the weather is surprisingly mild in Laredo, the air smelling of grass and hay and maybe a little bit of horse, but in a good way. The sunshine is warm on your skin, the sky extending bright blue as far as you can see.

Pop leads you to the stables, prattling on about horses and saddles and other things that you don’t understand in the slightest. Javi follows silently, catching your fingers in a vice grip. His jaw is tense, his brow furrowed in that little frown that seems to be permanently affixed to his face ever since Colombia.

Your heart flip flops, and you stop, pulling him close enough to rest your head on his chest. Automatically, Javi’s arms wrap around you, pulling you in, and he sighs deeply into your hair.

“Freaking out,” you remind him gently.

He huffs a tiny laugh. “I know.”

You lift your lips for a quick kiss, and Javi obliges eagerly. “It’s going to be okay, babe,” you murmur as you pull away.

“I know,” he repeats softly, looking for all the world like he really doesn’t.

“Come on.” You tug at him, noticing Pop carefully not watching you in the distance. “It’ll be fun.”

“I doubt that,” Javi mutters darkly, but he follows anyway.

“This is Caballo,” Pop announces, stopping in front of a freakishly huge black stallion.

Creative, you almost say aloud, reminding yourself to be nice just in time. This man is as good as your father-in-law. It’s probably wise to keep that favorable impression you’ve made.

As if sensing your thought, Pop winks at you. “Javier named him.”

You shoot a little smirk in Javi’s direction, knowing that he’ll pick up on your teasing. He doesn’t rise to your bait, though, the killjoy.

In no time at all, the horses are saddled up and ready to go. Javi is perched atop a cream-colored mare, Cerveza, and Caballo is all yours.

Pop declines to ride, preferring to supervise you from the ground. “He’s very gentle, Orejas,” he tells you as he helps you into the saddle. “Won’t throw you or buck. Not like Cerveza.” He winks up at you. “Es una pequeña perra.”

Together, you laugh. You’ve picked up on enough Spanish curses during your time in Colombia to get the message.

Javi and Pop offer you some last-second advice - relax, sit up straight, and keep the reigns loose - and then you’re off, plod-plod-ploding at a mind-numbingly sedate pace around the fence line.

By the third lap, you are thoroughly, utterly, completely bored.

“I think I’m ready to go faster!” you shout to Pop. “Can I make him go faster?”

Pop tips his hat at you, shooting you a toothy grin. “Tap him on the sides with your heels, Orejas, and say, ‘giddap!’”

“Gently,” Javi warns you sharply.

You shoot him a glare that’s only half-mocking. As if you’d just kick this poor horse in the ribs - god, it’s like Javi doesn’t know you at all.

“Giddap,” you say in your most dignified voice, nudging Caballo with your feet like Pop had told you. Caballo jolts forward, cantering half-heartedly for a couple of steps, then slowing to a walk with a disdainful snort.

Ugh. You toss a questioning glance back at Javi. He’s doing a very poor job of hiding his grin.

Motherfucker.

Pop is smiling, too. “Try it with a little more authority, Orejas!” he advises. “He’s a big animal, and proud. You’ve got to tell him what to do, not ask politely.”

Javi snorts. ”Shouldn’t be too hard.”

You whip around to stare at him, lurching forward when Caballo reacts to your sudden shift in body weight. Behind you, Javi breaks out into snickers.

Well, then.

Exasperated, you decide that Javier Peña is far more of a big, dumb, proud animal than the horse you’re riding, and you manage to climb atop him every day and submit him to your will just fine.

Caballo shouldn’t be a problem.

You square your shoulders, determined to get it right this time, and summon every John Wayne movie you’ve ever seen to the forefront of your mind. It’s not an impressive anthology to pull from - you’re more of a sci-fi kind of girl - but it’s more than enough to get a clear picture in your head of what needs to happen.

You gather the reigns in one hand, straighten your back, and take a deep breath.

“Hyah!”

Caballo is off like a shot, surging forward with an enthusiasm that sends your body rocketing backwards. Your feet fly up, suddenly free of the stirrups, and its all you can do to hold like mad to the reigns with your right hand - why the fuck did you decide one hand was better, anyway?? - while your left flaps free in the wind.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa,” you tell Caballo. You’re not begging, you’re not.

You’re vaguely aware of shouts behind you.

You manage to pitch forward just enough to avoid falling off the ass-end of the horse, but it’s a near thing. Caballo is in a full-out gallop, lungs chugging beneath you, mane flapping in the wind and stinging your eyeballs. You lean in and hold on for dear life, and goddamn, none of those westerns ever mention just how rough it is on horseback. You are going to be so fucking sore tomorrow, ass, tits, and bits, but you can’t find it in yourself to care, because you are riding this horse, dammit.

You realize your mistake a moment later. Pride goeth before the fall, and your feet had shaken free of the stirrups on Caballo’s initial leap forward. Now, your legs are free-floating, flap, flap, flapping in the wind, and each bounce is sending you just a hair further over to the side.

Oh shit shit shit.

You flail, arching your toes in a desperate attempt to find purchase somewhere, but it’s a done deal. Grip with your knees, some primal instinct screams, or maybe that’s just Javi - you think he might be chasing you in the background.

By this point, you’re flat sideways on Caballo’s body, curled up more on his ribs than his back. Flop flop flop. He hasn’t slowed one bit, and you realize with sudden, horrifying clarity that gravity is a fucking bitch, and it’s a matter of where, not if or when, you fall.

You decide to do things on your own terms and let go, dumb as it may be. You pitch forward and roll, tucking your shoulder into the ground like your gymnastics teacher had taught you when you were six. There’s a horrifying moment of chaos and pain - the world is spinning, nothing is under your control, and the breath is knocked completely from you, but it’s over in an instant, and you’re left staring at the shockingly blue sky, blinking into the sunlight and listening to the receding hoof-falls of that goddamned horse.

“Ears! Ears! Ears!” Javi is making a lot of fucking noise somewhere over your shoulder.

The ridiculousness of the situation hits you all at once, along with a truckload of relief. You relive it all in an instant, picturing how utterly fucking stupid you must have looked, clinging to a runaway horse with your hair wild in the wind and your short little legs bouncing like chicken wings, and before you can find your way to your feet again, you’re laughing so hard that you can’t fucking breathe, which is almost a problem, because there wasn’t much air left in you to begin with -

Javi’s kneeling over you now, blocking the sun with his body, panting hard. “Oh, fuck. Fuck, Ears, are you okay?”

You can’t stop laughing long enough to answer him. You curl up in a ball on your side, trying push yourself up on your elbows, but you can’t.

“Oh… Oh my… Oh my god,” you stutter, breathless.

Beside you, the tension bleeds from Javi’s body in one long, broken sigh. You realize that he’s laughing, too. He leans his forehead into your shoulder, slumping into you bonelessly.

“I… I couldn’t… the fucking foot loops -” in your discombobulated state, the word ‘stirrup’ is lost to you. “My feet, Javi!”

He shakes his head into your neck, hot little breaths puffing on your bare skin. “I know,” he giggles, pressing a quick kiss to your jaw. “I saw.”

You try to stagger upright and don’t quite manage it. You’re feeling dizzy, almost a little drunk, but before you can stumble again, Javi is right there, hauling you to your feet and catching your lips in a deep, gentle kiss.

“You.” Javi breathes into you, his mustache tickling at your lip, and you lean heavily against him, allowing him to do most of the work of holding you up. “Ridiculous girl,” more kisses, “What do you have against me, huh?” a soft nip at the corner of your mouth, “It’s like you just try to scare the life out of me, Ears.”

“Dunno.” Your voice trembles, and you’re unsure whether that’s leftover adrenaline or the way Javi’s gigantic hands are stroking possessively at your ribcage. The flannel he’s wearing is worn soft with age, and you nuzzle into it, sighing. “It’s a hobby, I guess.”

“I can think of better hobbies,” Javi growls at the skin of your neck.

“Not right here,” you laugh, suddenly aware of Pop approaching. Javi whines like a puppy as you push him away gently, his hair mussed and his lips swollen, and your heart swells in your chest.

Christ, sometimes you still cannot believe how fucking lucky you are.

“Besides.” You can’t resist stealing one last kiss from his chin. “You know you love it.”

Javi’s breath catches. His eyes darken. One thumb strokes softly at your cheek, tucking back a stray hair. “Querida,” he starts -

You’re startled by a slow clap behind you, and both you and Javi jump back as if burned. Pop has finally made it to the scene. “Buena, Orejas!” he teases, his dark eyes dancing. “Well done!”

Asshole, you think fondly. Sarcasm runs strong in the Peña clan, it seems. You shake your head at him, a grin pulling at your cheeks.

Pop reaches to grip Caballo by the reigns. The motherfucker had finished his flight around the the ranch and wandered back toward you, sedately, almost nonchalantly, as if to say, ‘who, me?’

“Ready to go again?” Pop asks, holding out the reigns in your direction.

Javi groans. “No, Dad.”

You’re not sure if Pop’s serious, but you are. “Absolutely!” Fresh air and adrenaline have made you giddy, and you decide on the spot that, apart from almost dying, riding a horse is the most fun you’ve ever had in your life.

Caballo takes a little half step back, side-eyeing you with as much expression as a horse can muster, as if he’s sensed your intent and wholeheartedly does not approve.

You glance back at Javi. He’s sighing hard, head in his hands, rubbing his palms to his eyeballs with a ferocity that must have him seeing spots.

You decide to have mercy. “How about tomorrow?” you suggest, bumping shoulders with Javi in a gentle reminder that you’re here, you’re okay. “I know there’s still some beer in the fridge.”

Pop nods sagely, still grinning as he pats Caballo on the haunches. “I think so.” He offers you a quick wink, and you decide for the third time this morning that you really, really like your almost father-in-law.

“Thank fuck,” Javi mutters to himself.

You elbow him hard enough to draw a grunt, then offer him a quick peck on the lips in compensation. “Come on, babe. It wasn’t that bad.”

He huffs in response.

#Javier Peña x reader #Javier Peña x you #narcos #javier peña #pedro pascal fandom #javi x reader #javi x you #narcos netflix #Javier Peña imagine #pedro pascal #narcos fanfiction #reader insert #I don't know where this came from but here you go merry Christmas #ears is pure chaotic energy and really it's javi who slows her down not the other way around #ears is basically a blatant self insert character and i'm not even sorry #drops this and runs to wrap last minute presents #javi is so much like a fucking horse i swear #huffing and snorting all the time

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a-solitary-marshmallow · 3 years ago

Text

Rewind Chapter 11 - Epilogue

“Will I remember any of this?”

Ford paused, hands stilling on his workbench as he considered the question. “…I don’t know.”

Stan swung his legs idly from where he was perched on another table in Ford’s lab, watching the nerd fiddle with his vials. One of them had a glimmering rainbow liquid in it that kinda looked like unicorn blood. “You said when I was an adult we were fighting. Do you think we’re just gonna keep fighting?”

“We’ll always be fighting a little bit.” Ford hedged.

“No, I mean real fighting. Not just arguments and stuff.”

“Then… no, not if I have any say in it.”

:readmore:

“Good.” Stan folded his arms. “Adult me kinda sounds like a jerk, so you gotta tell him I said to be nice. And you’ve been kind of a jerk too, so you also have to be nice.”

“I doubt a grown-up you will follow the instructions of a baby.”

“Hey! I’m not a baby!” Stan found a crumpled piece of paper nearby and lobbed it at Ford’s head. He missed, but it was the thought that counted. Ford let out a huff.

“Don’t throw things when I’m working with chemicals, Stanley. Unless you want me to spill it on myself and also turn into a baby. Then who would cure you?”

“Not a baby!”

Stan didn’t throw anything else, though. Only because there was nothing nearby to throw.

“I honestly don’t know how much you’ll remember.” Ford admitted after a while, twirling a test tube to mix its contents. It looked pretty boring for what was basically a magic potion, just clear and grey. It wasn’t even bubbling. “You might completely forget everything that happened when you were de-aged. In which case, I don’t know how I’ll explain everything.”

“Just start with the story of how I defeated an evil dream demon. It’s the coolest part.”

“It’s the most exciting part of the story,” Ford allowed, “But not the best place to start.”

“It’s the hook! That’s the best part of a story, you know.”

Ford lifted the boring test tube up to inspect it in the light. When Stan looked closer, it didn’t seem as clear – as he watched it was slowly getting cloudier, more silver than grey. He vaguely remembered something about that from science class – did that mean there was a chemical reaction? Or a physical reaction? He could never remember the difference between them.

Ford stared pensively at the vial, and after a few moments Stan cleared his throat. “Is that it?”

“Yes.” Ford started to turn to him and then hesitated again. “You just have to drink this to go back to your real age. I… hm. Are you ready? Do you want to have something to eat first? Or maybe go to bed and have it in the morning?”

Stan blinked. “It’s gonna make me older again, right? Why wait?”

“Well, I don’t know.” When Stan made grabby hands Ford relented and handed over the vial. It was cold to the touch, like it had just come from the fridge. Stan stared at the thick, silvery liquid and wondered what it would taste like. “When you touched water from the spring of youth you passed out for several hours. The same thing could happen now, so we should move you somewhere comfortable before you drink-”

Stan tipped the vial and swallowed its contents in one big gulp. Ford shrieked.

“Stanley! Why would you do that?”

It tasted kinda like dirty, metallic oranges and Stan screwed up his face. “Ew! Couldn’t you at least make it taste nice?”

Ford retorted something, but the sounds were a bit wobbly in his ears. Stan blinked hard to try and make his vision make sense. It was just a little bit off, fuzzy in the corners of his vision.

“…getting dizzy?” Ford’s voice swam through the air, thick and swampy, like Stan was breathing treacle. “…lie down…”

And then, quick as blinking, he was on the floor. That was rude, for the world to just flip over like that. Everything was clouds and Stan was very, very sleepy.

Something else was said, but he was too far away to hear it.

_______________________________________________________________

When consciousness came – and it did come, as much as Stan wished he could sleep forever, dragging him up from the depths of hazy dreams he couldn’t remember – he knew exactly where he was.

There were soft sheets against his back, the faint whistle of wind through the pines outside, the taste of copper on his tongue. The spare bed felt smaller, now, and when his head shifted his stubbly cheek scratched against the pillow. It smelled faintly like dust.

“Stan? Are you waking up?”

Okay, that was Ford’s voice. But, there was still the possibility that this had all been a weird, vivid dream! That’s right, everything from the last couple days had been a dream. There were no gnomes, no dream demons, and in a moment Stan would open his eyes and be back inside the Stanleymobile.

He cracked his eyes open, blinking at the assault of light, and saw his brother’s face looking back at him.

…shit.

“Stan? Are you alright?” Ford was tapping his cheek, looking for a reaction. Stan grumbled and brushed him away.

“I’m fine. Hands off the merchandise.” His voice was rough with sleep, and Stan was almost surprised by how deep and gravelly it was compared to the childish squeaking he’d been doing lately.

Ford made a face, somewhere between worried and amused – an expression that Stan was familiar with from the last couple days. Dammit. He just had to remember all that. Ugh, and now Ford would want to talk and get all mushy.

“I’m fine.” Stan repeated, with nothing else to say. He got up on his elbows, and a quick glance around the room confirmed they were in the spare room he’d been sleeping in the last couple days. Still, he asked. “Where are we?”

“How much do you remember?” Ford asked urgently, making Stan blink. “Since you arrived here, I mean.”

“Uh… nothing.” He lied, like a liar. Ford’s face fell.

“…oh.”

Yeah, there was no way he could tell the truth here. He would die of embarrassment if he had to admit he remembered acting like a child and being all…sappy. Ford would look at him all weird and they would have to talk and that was just… ugh.

“Yep! I just remember getting here and then – poof! Nothing.” Stan went for a carefree laugh. “Man, did I get hit on the head with a coconut or something?”

Ford lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, looking crestfallen. “No, not quite. Do you – remember the argument we had?”

Nope, nope, feelings alert. Stan did not want to delve into that conversation.

“What argument? Probably about you being a nerd, huh? Jeez, am I hungry, you got any food in this joint?”

“Wha-”

Stan was already throwing the covers off (thank god he was wearing a nightrobe underneath, he didn’t think his pride could survive another hit). Ford spluttered as he got to his feet.

“Will you slow down?”

______________________________________________________________

After a couple tests which were obviously unnecessary (but Ford insist on anyway, the nerd) Stan was finally free to pull on some actual clothes and follow Ford to the kitchen. He hadn’t been lying earlier, hunger really was gnawing in his stomach, and he made a beeline for the fridge.

“-and so you were reverted back into a child,” Ford continued. The guy had absolutely no showmanship. Way to lose an audience, Stan muttered to himself as he grabbed the fridge door. He’d told him to start with the demon bit, but noooo. “That was a couple days ago. There have been some – well, it’s been eventful. I doubt you’ll believe me if I told you.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“By the way, my friend is on his way.” Ford added. Stan ducked down to inspect the fridge’s contents – at least it was better stocked than when he first arrived. He hummed in acknowledgement. “You – well, I suppose you won’t remember him. You’ll like him though. You did.”

“Is he a nerd liked you?”

Ford snorted.

Stan grabbed a box of leftover pasta and then went in search of a fork. “Well, let’s hope this Fiddleford guy can tell stories better than you, ya almost put me to sleep with the way you tell it.”

When he turned around, Ford was staring at him.

It took a moment for him to realize his mistake – by the time Stan opened his mouth to spew out some bullshit excuse, Ford was pointing an accusing finger at him.

“I didn’t tell you his name!”

“Yes you did!” Stan spluttered. “I mean, how else would I know his name unless you told me, huh? You ever think about that?”

Ford narrowed his eyes. “Stanley.”

“Stanford.” He parroted right back. The staring match continued for a few moments before Ford threw up his hands.

“Unbelievable! You’re such a liar.”

Stan took a large bite of pasta. Because he was hungry, not because he didn’t want to answer. Ford glared at him.

“I should have known you’d try to wriggle your way out of this. ‘I don’t remember’ my ass. What, were you just going to leave and pretend none of this ever happened?”

Stan shoveled more pasta into his mouth.

“Don’t think you can avoid talking with me. We are having this conversation whether you like it or not.”

‘No, we’re really not’ is what Stan meant to say. Unfortunately, the moment he took a breath to speak he started choking. Ford scowled and thumped him on the back as he coughed, getting bits of pasta all over the kitchen floor.

“Unbelievable.” The nerd said again.

Well, so much for that.

_______________________________________________________________

Stan squirmed under his brother’s glare – the whole ‘pacing and towering over him while Stan sat on the couch like a scolded child’ schtick was uncannily similar to what their mother would do when they earned her ire.

“So.” Ford began. “You remember childhood.”

“Yep.” Stan grumbled.

“Your adult life?”

“Mm hm.”

“The last couple days here and everything that occurred while you were reverted?”

“Mm.”

Ford stopped his pacing to turn to him. “Then why on earth did you try to pretend you didn’t? We even made up!”

Stan buried his face in his hands to try and hide its burning. “I don’t know! I knew you’d try and get all…” He shuddered. “Mushy. Feeling-y.”

Stan could just feel the flat look his brother was giving him.

“Okay, fine, look. You forgave me for breaking your project, I forgave you for being a jerk. We’re good. Now, I’m just gonna head home-”

“You’re homeless.”

“You don’t know that!” Stan looked up from behind his hands to see Ford folding his arms. “I could have a, a house, a mansion even!”

“You have a mullet.”

…okay, Ford had him there. Stan scowled. “What’s the plan then, smart guy?”

Ford’s eyes gleamed, and he immediately regretted asking.

“I’m glad you asked, Stanley! I’ve had plenty of time to think over these last couple days. First of all, the Duskertons are looking for someone to help around their store, and no one in Gravity Falls cares much about credentials – I’m pretty sure the man who works at the post office is just a bunch of gnomes in a trench coat – so your lack if identification shouldn’t be a problem if you’re looking for a job. There’s also Boyish Dan, his family owns a logging company and I’m sure you could get a place there if you wanted. You’re welcome to stay in my house for as long as you need – I’m sure there are some places in town if you want to rent instead, though. If you choose to stay I might ask for your help in some of my research, since Fiddleford has decided to take a break from studying Gravity Falls, which I don’t blame him for.”

Stan blinked, but Ford wasn’t finished, ticking things off on his fingers as he went.

“I’ll also need to keep you under observation for a while to ensure that there are no side effects from the fountain of youth water, so I’ll ask you to stay around for at least a couple days. If you decide to leave Gravity Falls after that period, you’ll need to give me your phone number so we can keep contact. Oh, scratch that, I’ll make a new one – I’m sure I can work up a design that isn’t as flimsy as the current models going around.”

“Uh-”

Stan was saved from having to answer (answer? There wasn’t much of a question but Ford was looking at him expectantly and he didn’t know what he was supposed to say) by a light knock on the door. Ford perked up and rushed to answer it.

“Am I intruding?” Fiddleford’s hesitant voice rang out. Ford shook his head and stood aside to usher the smaller man inside.

“Not at all, come in. It’s good to see you.”

Fiddleford stopped in his tracks when he laid eyes on Stan on the couch.

Ugh, he was already getting a headache. Now came the judgement. Stan looked like a mess, he knew he did – unshaven, with bags under his bloodshot eyes and ragged hair and old scars crisscrossing his arms. Some small, childish part of him wanted to jump up and hug the guy. Gross. Instead he shoved down the nervousness, stood, and gave him a lazy two-fingered salute.

“…Stanley?” Fiddleford tilted his head, eyes scanning him. Stanley shrugged uncomfortably. It was weird, towering over the small guy like this.

“Hey.”

“Well, you grew up big. The spittin’ image of yer brother.” Fiddleford gave a little smile and stuck out his hand. “Pleasure meetin’ ya, officially this time.”

“Eh, you too.” Stan shook the offered hand. It was small, frail, but gripped his firmly.

“So are you stickin’ around?”

Stan hesitated. He glanced from Fiddleford’s earnest face, to his own rough hand, to Ford’s careful expression – the look of someone trying hard not to look like they were listening.

“…yeah. Yeah, I think I’m gonna stick around.”

#rewind #gravity falls #The stans #epilogue

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