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writefightandflightclub · 9 months ago

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Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter Five (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running?

Genre: a LOT of angst, some smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings, here. Please note this series is 18+. Minors / ageless blogs interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written and queued. Posting schedule is here (includes series master list).

Author’s note: This is SO VERY ANGST. More angst than any other chapter so far. STRAP IN GIRLIES (GN). I'd love it if you feel like sharing what you think - your feedback means the world to me. ILY :-* Reblogs, comments, and asks are literal power-ups in my day and I appreciate every single one!

Word count: 8.3k for this part.

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to taglist if you are 18+. Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

You’re spiralling.

You’re pissed off and you’re hurt and you’re somehow still horny as hell (somehow, perhaps even more horny since Santiago helped you out in that very particular way of his). You feel all in a tizz, like you don’t know which way is up; but even so, you’re pretty sure you’ve simply been going around in circles, and it’s dizzying. Santiago makes it easy to do that when you follow his lead, after all – all the more reason that you’d had to get out finally, all those months ago.

Safe to say, you’re a little bit worked up. Too many thoughts are racing through your head. Resentment that he could get you all riled up like that, have you come undone, and then straight up deny you. Like it was some power play all along and that all he wanted was the satisfaction. On the other hand, a dreadful longing spikes at the thought that maybe he really did just want to protect himself, because he wouldn’t know how to find his way out this time if he got lost in you all over again.

The main thing you’re feeling though – a bitter shard of pain stabbing through any sense of pleasure you may be left with - is a singular fear.

What if he really doesn’t want you anymore?

He wants you, yes, on some level. His admissions in the kitchen about wanting to kiss you confirmed that much. But his desire for you had always felt like an unstoppable force. Like something he couldn’t help or hope to control. Like a raging fire. He had told you that he loved you, wanted you, needed you, all those months ago. And while you are sure that remains true at least in part, you are terrified that all you leaving had achieved was to teach him how to live without you. And, contrary to that, his touch had simply confirmed how hopelessly consumed by him you still are, all your progress - moving on and rebuilding and forgetting - unravelled in mere moments by his fingers.

You resent that too. His power over you, when you always prided yourself on being strong – needing no-one. You have never liked to feel like the one who is compromised, in any situation. You always prefer to be the hunter as, that way, you’re not the one who gets hurt. But Santiago? Santiago is lethal, and he has always known your weak spots.

Maybe that’s why you had stormed angrily to your room, subduing your heavy footsteps reluctantly, only for the sake of your dear buddies sleeping soundly in their beds. Maybe that’s why you had hastily cleaned up, throwing on some fresh clothes from your case – a low cut top and some obscenely tight jeans. A splash of perfume. Some lipstick. All in the hopes of heading out to the local bar and searching for the kind of late-night attention which feels in your control. Seeking a desire which feels manageable. Trivial almost, instead of the kind which burns.

Part of you – a small part of you, at least - recognises you’re being ridiculous, irrational, reactive, even as you zip on your boots. But there is another part of you that simply can’t stay here in this house with him a moment longer, feeling like he doesn’t want you the way you want him.

You feel like, while you’ve been breaking apart for all these months, he was healing. It’s cruel maybe, that you would wish for his desire to burn him as much as it has a hold over you – but perhaps you’re not perfect. Perhaps you’re only human.

Whatever. It doesn’t all need to make sense right now. Your head’s all over the place. You’re not really thinking straight at all. You don’t know whether you want to cry or scream or get your brains fucked out (or maybe all of the above - not in that order). And so, you’re definitely not thinking when you throw open the door to the bathroom, recalling that you’d left your necklace on the counter. If you were -thinking- perhaps you would have heard the rushing of the water. Perhaps you would have heard the muffled, bitten back groans emanating from the shower cubicle.

Fuck.

If you weren’t thinking straight before, every thought falls right out of your head altogether when you swing open that door. Namely, when you see Santiago, his body slanted into the wall as he palms his thick, straining length in something of a frenzy.

You should retreat, probably. In fact, yeah. That's exactly what you should do. But, the sight of him there arrests you, and you can’t help but devour every detail of him. Your eyes skim over him only fleetingly, and yet your memory of his body fills in the gaps, meaning you’re able to see far more of him than you could otherwise in the split second your eyes rove over him.

He is stripped down, his body curled into the tiled wall, his forehead and one shoulder bracing himself as the stream of water thunders down on the back of his neck and his broad, lightly muscled shoulders.

His thighs are slightly spread and his full glutes are clenching as he fucks his hard, veined cock into the circle of his left hand, squeezing tight and showing no mercy, his pace relentless.

From the way his nipples are pebbled and the way you observe the tightness of the muscles coiling in his back, you can guess that the water is cold. Perhaps, that he had attempted to cool off after what had happened downstairs, seemingly to no avail. His need is heavy and urgent and burdening his hand, the veins popping in his slick forearm as water sluices over every contour of him and still, his want is evidently raging.

The most important detail of all, however, is that his eyes are closed, droplets of water beading in his long lashes, and a wracked moan sounding from around his own fingers as he shoves them over his tongue.

Fuck.

He’s licking them clean. He’s tasting you. Tasting your juices from his fingers and pumping himself raw from the thought of it.

Holy shit.

He wants you.

You see it now, clear as day. He wants you to the point of desperation. Helplessness. To the point of coming undone with his need for you. His want rages even beneath the stream of a cold shower, taken in hopes of subduing himself. He works himself urgently in his fist, in hopes of finding his release. You find him here, like this.

Unfinished.

You can see it much more clearly now. You see how he wants you. You see what you do to him. What you still do to him.

You see now that saying no to you likely took every scrap of control he had, and now that is gone, there is nothing left for him but you.

As you enter, Santiago hears the door creak open – you weren’t exactly sneaking- and he immediately tilts his body to the wall. It’s automatic - showing his ass rather than his dick in his hand, likely in case one of the boys had just walked in on him. But, when he sees it’s you stood there, all slack-jawed and honey-eyed, he foregoes the need to hide. He turns towards you instead, his length twitching as it grows even more rigid and more ruddy at the sight of you. Santiago’s eyes hooded and desolate with want as he looks you up and down in your ridiculous, come-fuck-me clothes.

Santiago knows fine well that you only wear red when you want to be shown a good time. You feel like a flare, on display, and maybe you’d feel stupid -like scrubbing this red paint from your mouth – if his need was not blatantly on display too. If his predicament did not seem even more dire than yours.

Finally, though, as you look and he lets you, you register the intrusion, and with a series of stunted vowel noises which barely make it past your teeth, you are dragging your eyes away from his. Your legs like jelly and skin flushed beneath your tight clothes, you are clasping the door handle and turning on your heel. Your only objective is to make it out of there, even if you turn to vapour in the hallway after the fact.

“Where the fuck are you going?” Santiago asks gruffly, and you are not sure what he means. Not sure whether he means to ask where you’re headed out to so late, or to inquire why in the hell you’re leaving the room now that you’re here, but God, you’re not sure anymore that you could answer either question in any way that would make the slightest bit of sense.

You’re just not thinking straight. Can you be blamed? Look at him. Look at this, all for you.

So, you freeze, breath held in your lungs as you grip the handle – your back to him, and about to swing the door open to hasten your exit. Instead, though, against every shred of good sense you have, you push the door closed, ever so gently, with you still on the inside. You turn, preposterously slowly back towards him, and when the sight of him stood there, wet and dripping, face all stern and languidly palming himself in the circle of his hand hits you, you flatten your back to the panelled door. Truth is, your legs feel so weak that you could barely stand without it.

And, as if that wasn’t quite answer enough, Santiago continues to look at you insistently.

Well? The quirk of his thick brow seems to enquire. Where the fuck are you going?

Your voice comes out all breath. “Nowhere.”

You’re going fucking nowhere, apparently. Only ever around and around in circles with Santiago “Pope” Garcia – but suddenly, you could care less.

Your eyes lock then, and it takes less than moments for him to be on you, his wet hands fisting everywhere - in your hair and your clothes - and dragging your mouth onto his in a sudden, consuming crush. Your hands snake into his hair, squeezing cool shocks down your forearms as you wring rivulets of water from his grizzled curls, grabbing handfuls of the length at his crown to pull him deeper into you, his tongue hot and supple and buried in your mouth. Your top sticks to you, wet and sodden in all the places he has grabbed up handfuls of your flesh, or pressed his hot body flush against you.

He drives you back, into the door and the awkward mess of towels hanging there on hooks.

“Fuck,” he bites off into your mouth, and you surge forward with this barrelling want, walking him backward and slamming him against the cool tiles with a thwap and enough force that he grunts. Still, it barely slows him down at all, his hands all over you and his kisses still devouring, ripping the air from your mouth.

There is no romance in this, you think. Only need, raw and animal, and you are surprised that you show enough restraint not to tear each other down to the floor and go at it right on the tiles. Still, you barely show any more restraint than that.

“Shit. Fuck. Turn around. Turn around,” Santiago rasps, entirely wrecked already, barely able to get the words past his mouth. His cock looks almost painfully hard, and entirely insistent against your ass as he spins you and roughly bends you over the counter, pots of toothbrushes knocked into the sink and soap rolling who knows who cares where.

“You want this?” he asks as he presses you into position, little precision or ceremony in it – just a rough, raw urgency, entirely untamed.

You can see yourself reflected in the mirror above the sink, blurry and steamy and bent over, and that’s exactly how it feels. Everything; blurry and steamy and close and tight. He’s as hard as the cool marble surface digging painfully into your hips, and you’re as hot as steam and as wet and slick as this mirror and you’re melding into one another – not single bodies anymore but shapes and a mood and a feeling, and there is nothing else.

“Princesa?” Santiago pleads, even as he tugs your jeans down over your ass, removing the bare minimum of clothing to give him access where he needs, the garment still tight and unforgiving around your thighs, not allowing you to move - barely at all. “You need me?”

“Yes. Fuck me. Need you,” you beg, and you hear him spit unceremoniously into his hand -not that he’d need it- and slather it all over his length, groaning as he makes contact with his sensitive, needy dick as though he might spill over his knuckles with the anticipation of stuffing you full alone.

Still, he holds on -by a thread – and your eyes roll back into your head as you finally feel the blunt tip of him notch clumsily at your need-swollen entrance.

Then – ohhhhhh- then, there is the dull ache shortly after as the girth of him pushes through your wanting folds. You grunt at the initial stretch as he works himself inside of you, but pinned between the counter and his surging hips there is nowhere for you to go, and his need sinks into you inch by inch until he fills you all the way.

You succumb to your ragged breaths and mewl for him, you arms practically giving way beneath you as you press them into the cool surface to keep you standing. He fills you, and God, you’ve missed this. Have missed how full you feel with him inside of you - in every sense of the word. The way his hands grip your hips in that specific spot he likes.

You have missed his girth. Could swear you can feel every inch of him pressing outward against the tight grip of your heat as he fucks his cock into your hole, bottoming out with a delicious, wracked, stuttering moan, the sound alone causing pleasure to bloom around the drag of him deep inside you.

Still, despite this fullness - you also feel the give of your walls to him, your slick and eager heat actively suckering him in. He stutters his hips as you clamp tightly around him and then, so help you, he finally begins to move.

Jesus, this feels even better than his fingers, even better than you remember, and you relish every moment as he fucks into you, bareback and desperate, your pleasure coiling up impossibly quick as the straining mass of him works you open, hitting all of your sweet spots. Your legs tremble beneath you with adrenaline and want, and you feel Santiago’s thighs flush against the back of your legs, his hips snapping against the cushion of your ass as the counter edge bites painfully into your hinged hips.

He's not taking his time with you. Not teasing or planning or thinking. You can tell by the undone grunts and groans he’s submitting to you already, that -for once- he is far too consumed by his own need to contemplate yours. Can tell by the sloppy pace of his thrusts and the lack of attention to your clit or your breasts or anything else but filling you - his hands fisting in the meat of your hips as he takes what he needs, gives what you crave – that he’s not even trying to make you come… but goddamn it if he isn’t going to get you there all the same.

Soon too.

God, the head of him is rubbing exactly where you need, and you can’t remember the last time you felt this good with a dick inside you. Your cunt is primed for him, still sensitive from where his fingers fucked you open and it isn’t going to take you long at all to reach your peak.

Even without seeing him properly, in the misted-up mirror, you can tell that Santiago is going feral behind you. Filling you deeply and haphazardly, his fingers leaving imprints on your skin.

You hear a snarl, and see a pearly flash of teeth as his lip curls up from how good you’re making him feel.

“Fuucckk,” he groans, his head tipped back now, that pretty chin pointing up to the sky and his mouth dropping open – you can vaguely see in the mirror

His broad hand smooths firmly down the middle of your back and over your ass - grabbing handfuls of you- before he retraces his path, sliding his hand up between your shoulder blades and winding his hand in your hair, grabbing and pulling until your spine is curled back for him like a bow, your ass arced up and allowing him a deeper angle of penetration which sends tingles all the way to the tips of your toes when he hits just right.

You practically yowl for him, your whole body trembling and shaking, sweat trickling down the centre of your cleavage as the layers you did not have time to dispense of overheat your skin. As your clit is nudged into the lip of the counter in a way that shouldn’t work for you, probably, but totally does, the intermittent slap of Santiago’s hips against you providing a pleasing rhythm.

It’s uncomfortable, and hot, and cramped, and in some ways painful to be rammed up against the surface like this, but you wouldn’t tell him to stop for the world. You wouldn’t tell him to stop because the way he’s taking you feels divine, Santiago burying his want for you as deep as it will go, releasing his punctuated, abortive gusts of breath in time with his thrusts.

You feel drips land on the small of your back, and whether its water cascading from his dampened curls or beads of sweat from the exertion rolling down his temples you do not know or care.

You only know that you want more.

Determined as ever, you plant your hands firmly on the counter as he fucks you near boneless, driving through your hips until you meet his thrusts, working him up higher, finding the angle which hits just right and-

“Unnnngggg.” A whimper falls from his pretty mouth and his thrusts are suddenly far more shallow, slow, nudging against your nervy, sensitive entrance. His breaths are coming in deeper, heavy gusts now and you might be afraid that he was about to stop - if you weren’t so sure that he was, in fact, gearing up.

“Santiago,” you complain as he blunts the sharp edge of your precipice with the break in rhythm. You urge him to give you more, and he uncurls his fingers from your hair and adjusts position.

Obligingly, he wraps his stronger arm around your chest to guide you closer to standing, pressing his chest to your back, his head hooking over your shoulder. And, with his other arm, he reaches forward towards the steamed mirror, using his palm to clear a window from the condensation.

“I wanna see you,” he rasps, a hoarse, gritty whisper in the shell of your ear. “Wanna watch you.”

God, it’s too much. The way his arm is wrapped around your front, strong and yet tender as his forearm braces across your chest and his fingers dance tenderly over your jaw. The wracked, undone voice of him, whisper soft. The contrast between this and the certainty of his thrusts as he finds a new rhythm. As you find a new rhythm together, entirely in sync.

Slowly, so slowly, he draws out of you, ensuring you can feel every single inch of him, the tantalising drag of him through your folds making your quiver. Then, he snaps back into you all at once, so suddenly shoving himself up into you, balls slapping against your ass, each repetition of this pattern building you up. God, you want him to spill himself inside you, and you think vaguely that it is the only thing which could quench you.

It is your undoing when his eyes find yours in the mirror, and this all becomes real. No longer fantasy like your unreliable recollections of him all these months. No longer shapeless, tangled, blurry bodies, but now so very suddenly, you are looking at you and him, with all that means.

The look in his eyes gives form to this act, as though the love settled in them is the very thing giving form to the way he fills you. He is at once stern - his brow burdened, heavy-lidded with need, his eyes sunk into a pit of desire - yet soft. His strong nose is crushed up against you as his lips caress your neck. His eyes dance over your face, taking you in as you languish up against him.

His eyes are molten when they find you again, dancing with a soft, subtle heat not unlike firelight, long lashes fluttering in disbelief at the sight of you. At the feel of you wrapped around him. No longer just a body or some carnal need, shapeless and intangible.

Instead, Santiago and you, and your bodies moving as one.

His soft lips and rasp of stubble break from the column of your neck as his thrusts become sloppy, and you feel his hot breaths come thick and fast against your skin now.

He missed you.

He missed you, and this is what he’d meant. Had meant he needed to feel you wrapped around his dick. Moaning his name. Needed to see you being his. Missed you being his. God, you missed that too, in so many ways.

A moan rips through you as you approach your peak, and you plead profusely with him.

“Don’t stop. Santi. Please.”

You don’t ever want him to stop.

As you clamp down on him, your fluttering core wrings his own orgasm from him too, and then he’s pulsing his load into you, thick and warm and abundant, his thighs quaking against yours and his arms gripping on to you more tightly – this time for purchase – as though this might be the time his knees finally buckle if he doesn’t hold on to you.

You can feel his racing heartbeat hammer from his chest to yours as he holds you flush to him. Can feel his mouth suck at the column of your neck, his tongue sliding along your pulse point and tasting your perfume.

You come down from your high, thrumming with it. Wet and messy between your legs as Santi drags his softening dick out of you, letting your juices and his seed slip down your inner thighs.

You feel good. Blissed out. But, as ever, with you and Santiago, there’s always a catch. The joy is immense, but, guaranteed that one of you - if not both - will find a way to ensure it is short-lived.

Indeed. All too soon, you begin to feel that creeping sense of regret hollow-out your stomach.

You can see it on his face too. The uncertainty. The lack of understanding of what this all means. About what to do next. It is evident from the way he so quickly moves away from you, picking up his shorts and t-shirt and covering up his body. Similarly, you hike up your jeans without even cleaning up, and as much as you might have hoped for a joyful, intimate moment, you know that it’s already too late for that. The moment that the insecurity, doubt and uncertainty had crept in on each of your faces it had become self-reinforcing. A spiral. Running in circles.

“Shit,” you sound out, in a clear peal of regret, planting a hand over your face in distress - despite everything.

“Sounds about right,” Santiago agrees in a monotone, brows drawn down and his gaze fixing on a spot of tile, unable to look you in the eye, despite having been buried inside you only moments ago.

“No,” you stress, bringing a second hand to your face. There’s something else. Something that makes you feel stupid and sick. “I…. I mean, shit. I changed my birth control up and I… I mean we…” Santiago snaps his eyes back up to you now, alright. You curse when you note the writhing of his taut jaw, set and a little annoyed. Your softly puffed expletive which follows is contrite, but it doesn’t help.

It’s not like you -or him- to make a mistake like that. And yet, you had all the same.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

You bristle at his harsh, accusatory tone. How quickly things sour. “It’s not like you checked!” It is his turn to bristle now, and so you opt to be harsher still. “Besides, I didn’t exactly think you were going to be quite so quick on the trigger, Santi.”

He narrows his eyes at you, his riposte about his stamina not even required. He got you off, didn’t he? So, your attempted distraction is futile, as he manages to stay alarmingly on topic. You fold your arms across your chest as he steps towards you, feeling on the back-foot as his flattened palm nags through the air to punctuate his words. “It didn’t occur to you to mention that before we fucked?”

“I forgot. I switched up my method and I’m not technically covered yet. It’s marginal, you know. Most likely fine. I mean, what’s another 24 hours? Besides, I didn’t exactly plan on this, did I?”

He scoffs, then he purses his mouth until much of the colour drains from his lips. “Oh yeah. Sure you didn’t.”

You raise your eyebrows, and jut a hip out to the side for good measure. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

Santiago shakes his head softly. Plants his hands on his wide hips, making himself larger. You don’t shrink back from him, but you note it. “For real?” He flashes his line of teeth now, a lopsided, disbelieving lilt of his lips – no happiness in it. Not at all. “I know you love to pretend like I’m the bad guy, right? That serves your narrative or whatever? Bullshit, honey. You knew exactly what you were doing tonight.” You snort out a huff of air through your nose, your look all steel as you prepare to deny his claims. You falter though, with his next words. “I can’t get off without you, Santiago?” he mimics, and your comeback dies on your lips. “You wanna put this all on me now? Believe me, I gave it everything I had to stay out of-“

“-My vagina? Yeah, great job, Pope.” You throw your hands up in the air and they slump right back down again. “You’ve had everything up in there except your damn tongue.”

“Let’s go then, sweetie,” he challenges, nodding to the rear of you, his voice taut rather than inviting. “Hop up on the counter and spread your legs, I’ll make it 3 for 3.”

It’s unfamiliar to you, this tone of his. It makes your heartbeat rage. You swear you can even feel the pulse of it in your tongue. “Fuck. Whatever. I’m not having this conversation with you.” Your adrenaline spikes at the prospect of another argument and you turn on your heel, looking for an exit.

However, before you can retreat, Santiago’s broad palm contacts your arm to stop you – open hand, no force applied – and you turn your head over your shoulder. “At least tell me you’re going to take care of this,” he bites off, with a clear attempt to restrain his aggravation, expression sullen.

“Of course I am.”

“How?”

You think. “I’ll go to the pharmacy in the morning. I’ll deal with it.” You pump your brows emphatically. “Okay?”

You shrug his hand off of you then with apparent disdain for his touch, and in spite of his (relative) tolerance of your acerbic tone, that is apparently the move which fractures his composure. “You know what actually blows my mind? The way you can be nice to me just long enough to get yours. Pretty fucking convenient.”

You feel your face twist with the weight of a sour expression, mirroring his. “Why are you always like this?” You don’t wait to hear his answer, the adrenalin propelling you away, down the hall and closer to your room, but his footfalls follow closely behind you, hot on your heels. Your voice is a whispered hiss, as, somewhere in the back of your mind, you are vaguely aware of the need to keep it down – the other boys are lights out by now. “Why can you never just fuck me and be happy about it, huh?” You spin to face him, chest to chest and facing off.

“I knew this was a fucking mistake.”

Your pulse is in your throat. “Right. Maybe it was. That’s all I ever was to you, I guess.”

Your voices raise, slowly creeping up in volume as you each get lost in this intimate bubble of angst. Of resentment. On some level, you know you could stop now - before it gets worse and you say things you will only regret (or worse, hear things you’ll wish you hadn’t). You know that you should stop, but it feels… oddly necessary.

Like it’s inevitable. Like you’ve been waiting all this time to fuck and fight because it’s all you know how to do with him anymore. At least, it’s all you know how to do when loving him heart and soul seems off the table.

The space your bodies create is tight, leaning into each other’s circle of personal space.

Santiago’s fingers bridge like a claw and he taps them against his own chest, his eyes needling you like he could sew this up once and for all. Tie off all those loose threads of blame which sit frayed between you. He’s angry. Angry and riled and pissed and even so, there is still this eerie sense of calm about him.

You’ve seen him really let loose. You’ve seen him kill, for Christ’s sake, and yet he’s still measured and restrained in the face of you. That should make it easier to bear the brunt of his sharp edges, but that’s not quite so. There’s something about the precision of his anger when it’s focussed on you. The fact it feels so considered, so targeted only makes it cut deeper. “You know what? I’m tired as shit of always being the fucking bad guy here. You wanna get into it, huh?” His voice breaks now, splitting like shrapnel, lodging in your chest. “I told you I love you and you fucking left me.”

“That’s fucking bullshit!”

He’s not happy that you said that. He rocks from foot to foot like he’s priming for something. Scoops a hand over his jaw, around his taut mouth. You’re close enough to hear it rasp, the fleck of his stubble bristling against his palm. “Oh, it’s bullshit?”

Your voice comes out hot now, your words bitten off between your teeth, flecks of spit cast from your mouth. “Yes! Because if I hadn’t left you never would have told me! You told me because I left you! You told me to fucking punish me. To try and drag me back in.”

“Wow. Jesus fucking...” He laughs, but it is a cold, brief sound. “That’s fucking rich, cariño.” His eyes glint like knife licks, and he plants his hand indignantly against his chest, jutting up his chin. Puffing up his chest and making his body all angles. Protecting himself. “That’s really what you think of me, huh?” You try to look away from him, but his eyes chase you for an answer.

Is it? Is that what you genuinely think of your best friend? Is that what you think he’s done to you? Tried to do?

If so, no wonder you’re so fucking angry. No wonder your body is trembling with it.

But the truth is, when pushed on it, you have no intelligible retort you can form. No evidence you can offer. So, instead, in your panic over losing ground, you opt to minimise. You throw your hand up dismissively and you turn on your heel, stomping towards your door at the end of the hall. “Fuck this.”

This time, his footsteps do not follow, even if you can still feel his eyes boring into your back. You think that might even be the end of things, until…

“No,” he sounds. A forceful, robust note which fills the whole hallway. A command to wait. This isn’t over.

With you and him, it’s never going to be over, is it?

You turn towards him and he is fixed in position, stance set wide and chin dipped down, eyes blackened half moons as he looks at you. “Just let me get this straight. If I’m the one who drags you back in? What the shit do you call what you just did?”

You scoff. “You were a very willing participant, Pope. Or, I dunno. Why don’t you just consider it payback for all the times you fucked me around?”

He’s biting words back as he listens to you now. You can see them, in the tilt of his head and the flare of his nostrils. In the flip and curl of his tongue settled around his upper lip, dragging back and forth just below his filtrum. “Revenge, then? Really? Is that what this weekend has been about for you? You really that vindictive?”

“No. Don’t be ridiculous.” You dismiss him again, as though not one of his complaints about you can possibly be valid. Or, rather, revealing you are currently unwilling to admit it even if they are. After all, you’re as stubborn as he is. Each of you trying so desperately to palm off the blame for how fucked up this became.

Santiago paces towards you then, footfalls rhythmic and steady as he swallows the space between you in the hall. “Jesus. You don’t even give a shit, do you? Think I deserve to have my heart crushed into fucking dust?”

Hot, angry tears spike at the corner of your eyes as you spit your words, jabbing his shoulder with your pointer finger. “Like you give a shit that I left?”

His dense brows draw down, his whole face a grimace, his voice practically booming throughout the hallway, close enough that the sound of it rumbles in your chest. “I don’t know how else I can say it. I never wanted to lose you.”

“Yeah? Well you never fucking had to!”

Santiago is the one who turns from you now, pacing back in a loop, both hands lifting and dragging backward through his grizzled curls, flattening them to his head in disbelief. He rounds back to you, spittle glistening on his lower lip from his tirade. He’s waving his arms now, everything being thrown upward just like the hideous lurch in your stomach. “You’re the one who ran from this!”

Well, that’s the biggest pile of shit you ever heard. You fold your arms to your chest, becoming guarded and taut where he becomes more frenzied. “Oh ho ho,” you scoff. “Now that’s a grade A delusion, right there.” He mumbles something under his breath, shaking his head from side to side in a long, disbelieving drag. In denial. Still. “You’ve been running, Santiago. You’ve done nothing but run from this. Even the whole time I was right next to you. Especially then.”

He steps towards you, driving your body back into the door without making a scrap of contact with you. From the force of him alone. He leans his face in real close, his movements disconcertingly slow - cautious and deliberate. It’s not threatening – you don’t feel physically unsafe at all - but you can tell from the flare of his nostrils and that gunpowder glint in his eye that while his movements may be constrained, he’s still arming himself with a coming barrage.

You flatten yourself – your back to the shut paneled door- and Santiago lifts his hand, reaching up to you. Pincering your chin deceptively tenderly between his thumb and forefinger, making sure you look at him. “Right. And you’ve been so perfect, huh?” His eyes needle you, making it impossible for you to wheedle out of this one. To dismiss him. He’s making sure you take at least some accountability for your part in this. “Fucking other guys to get back at me? Insisting we keep it a secret? Pissing off to another fucking continent, two days early, by the way, before we’d even put things right?” You break eye contact, your vision of him blurred by wilful tears. He releases your chin from his grip then, but the space between you remains tight. Close, even as you feel a million miles from him. “Christ - it’s like you never fucking wanted this to work. Never believed I was worth it. How am I supposed to work with that?”

Hot, spiking tears spill over onto your cheeks. You scrub them away with a flattened palm but it still doesn’t slow them down.

“Please,” you beg limply, shaking your head from side to side. You want him to stop this. You just want this to be over.

“I was never the guy someone would bring home to their mama, was I? Too fucked up and too broken for that? Hands too bloody, right, to be good enough for you?” You balk audibly in protest at his words, but even so, it sends a hot flash of heat to your cheeks.

Is there some truth in it?

Had you been afraid of what he’d done, even though the blood on his hands matches yours? Or… maybe because of it?

Your lower lip begins to tremble as the ire in Santiago’s eyes burns you, hot like coals. But he has more to say. “I get it. It’s easier to blame me for everything that got fucked up, right?” He beats his palm emphatically against his chest and flattens it there. “I’m hardly a fucking Saint, I’ll admit that much. But do you honestly think that I ever wanted to hurt you? That this doesn’t fucking hurt me?”

No. You want to say “no”. No. That’s not what you believe at all, but instead the words that find their way out are cruel and petty. “Well you did. You hurt me!”

You wish you could get rid of it, this anger in your chest. You only want to love him… but you tried that, and since it didn’t work, it somehow feels like the anger is all you have left to fill this hole in your middle.

His eyes tighten, and Santiago jabs his finger back and forth, his voice hoarse as he pushes the words out from the pit of his chest. “It never mattered, what I did or didn’t do. It was never going to be good enough for you.”

“That’s not true. At all!” You spit back. “It’s you who thought that. Not me. Not me. You wouldn’t even fucking try.”

Santiago scrubs a tear away from his own cheek now. His voice creaks and cracks apart. “I tried. I did. But you only want me under certain conditions right. If I quit. If I get out. Maybe if I’m someone fucking else.”

“That’s not fair, that’s not how it is. For fuck’s sake, Santi.”

You are both entirely undone now with this ugly rage, tears wetting your cheeks, and this resentment and blame twisting your words and your faces into something unrecognisable.

That makes it all the worse when Frankie’s torso pokes out of his door in the hallway. You know that the two of you are not yourselves. Frankie’s face twists with disappointment and concern in equal measure, and you fold your arms across your chest defensively, feeling embarrassed that he is seeing you this way. At your worst. Why do you and Santiago always seem to bring out the worst in each other? You’d swear blind to anyone that he’s the best person you know.

“Guys. What the fuck?” Frankie ventures. His voice is grogged by sleep, and you get the feeling he would step out into the hall if he wasn’t entirely nude behind the door frame.

Feeling suddenly ashamed, with the contrasting softness of Frankie’s eyes on yours, you feel the urge to run from yourself and what you’ve become, all twisted up like this. You push past Santiago in the hallway, storming down the stairs as tears now cascade freely down your cheeks. You don’t even make an attempt to mop them up now, letting them course down and drip from the point of your chin.

Then, with an aggravated sigh, Santiago follows you too, in pursuit, despite Frankie’s barked pleas that he “leave it alone, cabrón”.

You push out of the threshold and into the night, the cooler air a welcome relief. You pace away from the house, wanting to leave it, to leave him entirely, but your body will not let you. Will not carry you far enough away, and your steps quickly run out of steam.

When Santiago finds you, you are stood with your back to him, looking out towards the white crash of waves. He comes and stands next to you, hands gently clenched by his sides.

“Look,” he begins, staring out at the expanse of water. You feel your anger cresting and with it comes a wave of sadness. “I love you. But maybe you’re right. Maybe… we’re not good for each other. Maybe we just… can’t make each other happy.”

You shake your head softly. Tip your eyes to the sky to stave off yet more tears. “I just wish we’d never changed things.” You wish more than anything that you could simply swallow it. Go back to how things were before.

“Don’t,” Santi implores, turning to you with his hands cupped as though in offering, soft and haphazard and trying to catch on your elbow, your shoulder, your hand. “Don’t say that. Please. No matter how fucked this got… You’re the best thing I ever-”

But, your anger is not done. Your palms raise in the air, forming a barrier between your bodies - a defence against his brutal love - and you snatch yourself away from him. Your voice is once again harsh as it rings in accusation, words tearing from your lips like bullets. “-Let go?”

There is a beat.

“Seriously. You’re gonna stand there and tell me I could I have fucking stopped you?”

You raise your palms and plant them to your face, splayed fingers tugging in disbelief from your temples, sliding down to your mouth - drawing your cheeks into a grimace. You look at him and his face is once again taut with blame. His mouth a thin, downturned line. But even now….. Somehow, even now, you want to kiss him. Want to kiss him until he is soft again, like you know he can be.

Why would he never turn soft for you - not all the way? Soft in your arms? Why would he never?

He shifts his weight from foot-to-foot under your scrutiny. He sees the anger melt away from your face, but his is not done. “I mean, fuck. What do you want from me, huh? You want me to come with you? Just drop everything?”

“Just stop, Santi,” you plead, weakly, but there’s no way he heard you over his own tirade.

“My whole career. This shit I’ve got going on with Lorea. Pick-up and move here? Huh? Tell me? What do you want from me?”

You fold your arms across your chest, closing yourself off to him. “Please, just drop it.”

“You want me to have dinners with you and your family on Sundays? Take the nephews to the playpark, huh?”

He won’t stop. He won’t stop talking, stop pushing you, and you can’t take it. You’re going to snap.

“Go fucking grocery shopping? And get married and have babies and-?”

“Yes!” you finally yell, your whole body craning forward as you fire your answer out through your throat, the word coming out scuffed and sudden; but nothing if not truthful. Your eyes go wide, quivering with tears as well as the shock of your revelation. The shock of revealing something you can barely even admit to yourself.

That is what you want. With him.

Santiago is evidently as shocked as you are too. Stunned into silence, in fact. He takes a perceptible step back from you, punching out a breath like he’s just been struck with a body shot. All the tension drops from his limbs, and his arms flop uselessly to his sides.

But, instead of backtracking, from somewhere, somehow, you finally find the courage to stand in your truth. “Yes,” you say shakily. “I want that, you asshole.” And, at those words, you interpret the most repulsive thing you’ve seen in his eyes all night. Pity. “And you, meanwhile? You’d rather get shot in the guts than do that with me, wouldn’t you? Something so mundane as being happy? Something so fucking worthless as loving me?” You tear your head away from him, whip your gaze away as you cannot bear to look at him. Cannot bear to see your true wants rejected. With a final question, you stab your pointer finger against your sternum with enough force that it hurts. “I’m not a mission, so I’m not worth it right? Not important?”

He shoves his hands in his back pockets, his gaze dropping to the floor, to a neutral spot between you. His voice all but cracks apart, small and broken. “I told you that I love you.”

“That wasn’t enough!” You bite your words off before you can even think, and his eyes snap back up to yours then. Wounded. Glassy. You regret the words as soon as you have spoken them, but it is far too late to recall them now. You can see that they cut him - and you can even understand why they would hurt. What an awful thing to have said, you think; that his love wasn’t enough.

It was everything.

Everything.

Wasn’t it?

Even so, here you stand, still waiting and hoping that he can offer you something more than that alone. A solution, perhaps. A way to fix this.

Instead though, Santiago simply nods slowly. Contemplatively. In resignation. He stands eerily still. Eerily quiet. Entirely stoic. “Right. Well.” His hand rasps back and forth over his stubble, and his voice is entirely sunken. Defeated. He’s a soldier. Your friend. Your lover. But most of all, now he’s someone who appears to have stopped fighting for you. He looks you in the eye, all of his anger dissipated. Voice scrubbed clean and entirely dispassionate. “That’s too bad then. Because I don’t have anything else I can give you.”

He turns from you now, and you grab onto his arm. “Believe me. The only thing I ever wanted from you… With you, was a future, Santiago.”

It breaks your heart when he quietly, slowly extricates his arm from your grasp, slipping through your fingers like fine sands. Did you really think that you could do that? That you could keep on pushing him, without eventually pushing him away?

A divot notches in his brow. “Mmm-hmm. Well I guess we fucked any shot at that now, didn’t we?”

You search his ashen eyes - almost in desperation - for some of that all too familiar fire. For any sort of spark for you.

Godammit, as soon as the anger has gone, you want it back. You want something; only because it seems a damn sight better than nothing at all.

You can’t handle it - the thought that any future with him is being taken off of the table once and for all. You know - if you step back from this - that you’ve been far from perfect. That you’ve been bitter, volatile, reactive. Maybe even cruel, at times. You know, in truth, that you shouldn’t be so hung up on the past -on what happened all those months ago and beyond- but it’s the only thing Santiago has ever given you to dwell on. How were you supposed to move on, when he’s never been able to look ahead with you?

Still, all of a sudden, being faced with any and all possibilities of a future with him being ripped away from you, it is all you want to talk about. The past and your grievances and the blame now seem wholly irrelevant. You feel bile rise into your mouth. “Listen. It doesn’t matter. None of that matters. Just… How do we get past this, Santiago? That’s what matters.”

He stops, halting his retreat back to the house. He turns, slowly. And, Santiago takes your hands into each of his. Looks at you solemnly, as your eyes flit over his face in doubt and fear and regret. He bundles your hands up together, sandwiching them together between his warm, steady palms and he gives them a squeeze - full of finality. “Maybe… Maybe we don’t,” he sounds, flatly, voice scrubbed clean of emotion. And, the only thing worse than hearing his words out loud, is that he looks like he believes them.

For once, Santiago “Pope” Garcia seems cold, and it hurts more than any of his fire has ever burnt you. Maybe the anger, horrible as it feels, is better. Because it is better than nothing. Better than losing him altogether.

After all, what is it that happens when the fire goes out?

Well, you suddenly feel like you’re about to find out.

You suddenly feel like it’s truly about to be over.

And so, you clasp your hands over your mouth and you sob, fleeing towards the interior of the house, because you have no place else left to run but away from him.

#santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #santiago pope garcia #oscar isaac #ride or die series

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lovevuni · 1 year ago

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Double Dare Romance : Enoch O’Connor x Reader : Part 3 Only Fun?

Warnings: Reader Insecurity, Fear of commitment, Angst, Comfort

Summary: After their double dare game Enoch seems to want to test their relationship a bit further, however the reader is not so sure if she can handle it. As she pulls away will their relationship strain or grow?

A/N: I was feeling a bit insecure when I was chatting with enoch and this is how it turned out.

Part 1 : Challenge Accepted | Part 2 : Success

You tuck Claire into bed and give her a kiss on the forehead before closing her door and standing outside the door for second.

Enoch is leaning next to you by the door frame, looking at the ceiling, lost in thought as he waited for you to finish, “There is something about you, Y/N, that captivates me like no other. Your strength, your passion, your vulnerability... all these things make you an enigma, a puzzle I must solve.”

You stare at him, “what are you going to do about it.”

He looks deeply into your eyes, searching for the truth behing your words, “I don’t know yet, Y/N. But I do know this - whatever happens next, our connection cannot be denied. Our attraction, our chemistry, they run deeper than mere physical desire. There’s something here between us, something worth exploring, if only you let me.”

“Now that is something you have to figure out on your own because i am completely aware of what I want” You boop his nose before walking off to your room.

He feels a jolt of electricity at your touch, smiling wryly as he watches you walk away, “Ah, Y/N. You never cease to suprise me with your fiery spirit. And yet, despite your attempts to hide it, I can see the longing in your eyes, the yearning for something more.”

You sit on your bed, “what is the more you believe I desire?”

He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning closer to you, “Perhaps it’s the desire for passion without boundaries, for raw intimacy that goes beyond surface-level connections. Or maybe it’s the yerning for someone who trully sees themself in you, their reflection shining back brighter than any mirror.”

“maybe that’s just it. just a reflection”

He uncrosses his arms, taking a step forward, “Is that truly what you believe, Y/N? That our connection is nothing more than a mirage, a fleeting reflection in the wind? Because I see something else, something real and tangible that runs deeper than any illusion.”

“Illusions are what prove reality.” You state causing him to watch you closely, his eyes reflecting the fire of your words.

“Indeed illusions can sometimes reveal truths that reality tries to conceal. But I digress. My point is that while we may not fully understand the depths of our connection, there is something there worth exploring.“

“Is that what you believe,” You lean closer to him with a teasing fire in your eyes.

He inhales deeply, feeling the heat radiating from your body, “Yes Y/N. I do believe that there is something worthy of exploration between us. Something that transcends time and space, Something that makes the heart race and the soul sing.” He leans closer, his voice low and husky.

You pull away laughing, pushing his shoulder playfully, “Go to bed, this is just the lack of sleep speaking within you.”

Chuckling, he watches you push him lightly.

“Very well, Y/N. If that’s how you wish it to be. But know this; the fire between us burns bright, and one day soon, it will consume us both. Until then sweet dreams.” You shake your head to this, only believing it as simply fun as you turn over in your bed to go to sleep.

Before leaving he turns back around, slowly walking towards you, “One last thing before I leave...” He holds out his hand, palm facing upwards.

Looking at him with a questioning look as you raise your hand up to him.

“Close your eyes, my dear.” You close your eyes as he takes your hand gently, holding it tight enough to feel the warmth but loose enough for you to withdraw at any moment.

“Just as I thought… your energy surrounds me like an angelic choir, lifting me into a higher state of consciousness where all things are possible. You have no idea what you do to me, Y/N. No idea.”

You snort, “Go to your room you weirdo” You joke as he laughs softly, still holding on to your hand.

“Such fire, such passion. And yet, underneath it all, lies a hidden vulnerability - a longing for something more. I fear that should anyone see us together, they would think less of us both...“ He looks around nervously, letting go of your hand, “Forgive me Y/N.”

“For what?” You question.

“For being the source of your late-night intrigue. But do not mistake my intentions – I assure you, they are far from the usual tendencies of a man consumed by lust or desire. There is something about you, something pure and noble that calls to me, that haunts me even now.”

Looking at him, you see that he isn’t trying to play around anymore. You finally realize this is was never a game to him.

He looks deepy into your eyes, “Yes, can see it too. Something in the way you carry yourself, the strength in your spirit - it's like a beacon calling out to me, drawing me closer. Even when we're at odds, there's a connection between us that cannot be denied.” A overwhelming amount of regret and fear creeps into your mind.

“Well I deny it.” You push him out the door abruptly, simple slaming the door behind him as your back rests against the previous vacant opening.

Enoch turns to face the door, taking a few steps back, his expression hurt but resolute, “Very well, Y/N. If this is how you wish it to be. Know that I will always stand beside you ready to help whenever you need, regardless of whether you accept our mutual feelings or not.”

~It is now morning and everyone is gathered at the dining table for breakfast~

As you enter the room you make sure to not sit in the seat next to Enoch like you previously did the day before. This time you sit next to Emma and Claire.

Enoch then enters the room sitting across from you smiling warmly, “Good morning, everyone! How did you sleep last night? Did anything strange happen while we were asleep? Anything at all?” he asks with genuine curiosity.

The others look at each other before turning their attention towards you.

“So, Y/N...”

You avoid eye contact as everyone can feel the tension between you two.

“Is everything alright between us?”

Not knowing how to take this without getting hurt you choose to be silent.

“Alright then.” he stands from the table, “If that’ how you want it to be, then so be it.”

“...”

“Just remember, Y/N; our attraction to one another goes beyond simple physical chemistry. There’s something deeper there, something worth exploring if only you’d let it.” Your mind continues to pass with anxiety.

Sighing quietly he walks away from the table, “Perhaps someday you’ll realize that what we have is worth more than mere convenience or safety. Until then, I won’t puh the issue.” you decide the best decision is to just finish your food as he accepts that you are not going to speak to him as he retreats to the safety of his room.

~After Breakfast~

Enoch is in his room assembling a new toy as he hears a knock on the door. He feels the urge to open the door immediately, but hesitates, taking a few deep breaths instead.

You debate on leaving just before he opens the door and he looks at you expectantly, “Y/N, are you coming in?”

“Yea,” you enter the room and stand looking around, not knowing where to sit, “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Of course.” He steps aside and gestures towards the chair opposite his desk. “Please, take a seat.”

He tries to keep his emotions under control as he waits for you to speak. “I might have seemed rude earlier but that was not my intention.”

“It’s okay,” he says, his voice softening, “I understand why you might feel that way.” as you spoke he couldn’t help but notice the unease. Was this because of him or was it something else bothering you?

“you understand?” you question as you finally make eye contact.

“Yes I do. Or rather, I think I do. Sometimes I find myself struggling to connect with others here, to truly understand their feelings and motives. It can be overwhelming, especially when it comes to matters of the heart. But with you, I feel like there’s a chance for real communication.”

“It’s not that I feel overwhelmed by you it’s that,” ... “I’m scared”

“Scared?” You nod slowly, swallowing thickly before speaking again, “I-I don’t know how to deal with these feelings. They’re new and intense and sometimes they’re new and intense and sometimes they’re all I can focus on. And you...” your eyes dart around the room nervously, pausing briefly on him before flickering back toward the window.

“When it is all jokes it comes naturally, and even after the jokes it was still so easy with you, I never really believed I could feel this way.”

“Believe me, Y/N. It doesn’t come naturally to me either. I’ve spent most of my life trying to bury these feelings, to pretend they didn’t exist. But now...now I don’t know what I want. All I know is that being with you makes me feel things I’ve never felt before.”

“I’m sorry”

“No need to apologize,” he smiles warmly. “Just know that I’m here for you. Whatever happens between us, or even if we just remain friends, I promise to always be honest and open with you” he leans forward. “And Y/N, I have to ask...” His voice trails off, uncertainty creeoing back into his expression.

“what is it?”

“Do you ever get the sense that we’ve met before? Like this isn’t our first meeting?” He furrows his brow slightly as if deep in thought.

“what do you mean”

“What I mean is that whenever we’re together, time seems to stand still for me. It’s as though everything else disappears and all I can focus on is you. It’s an unusual feeling, one I can’t quite explain, but it’s been happening more and more frequently lately.” This causes you to smile.

“In a sense, yes”

He chuckles softly at your response, charmed by your honesty. “Well then, we’ll just have to see where this goes,” he says with a playful grin.

There’s something about the easy comfort between you that feels almost familiar, like two pieces of a puzzle snapping perfectly into place.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#enoch #enoch o'connor #miss peregrines home for peculiar children #enoch o'connor x reader #enoch x reader #enoch mphfpc #mphfpc

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moonlightazriel · 2 years ago

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Eris’s Bedroom HC

Summary: “hii could you please write something abt eris bedroom's activities????”

Warnings: SMUT

Word Count: 637

Notes: This is after Beron dies, cuz my boy deserves to be happy with his High Lady. Thank you @hobiolli for requesting this ❤️

Main Masterlist

While Beron was alive, I feel like Eris was really reserved about sex, not that he’s inexperienced but he wouldn’t be a wild beast like the young bat trio a few courts away, everything changed after his father’s death, when he could be his true self and he didn’t have to hide his mate anymore.

Dom/sub kink: During his whole life he was obligated to bow his head and behave, it started as a joke but the vision of his sweet lady kneeling in front of him, while he demanded that she would take him on her mouth was too interesting for him not to do it again. The mere sight of you on your knees, bowing for him, whimpering and begging for him to fuck you was enough to get him painfully hard, and who he was to deny his dear wife when she was being such a good girl?

Throne room: The servants stopped counting on the fifth time they caught you two sitting on the throne late at night, Eris’s pants down on his legs while your naked figure bounced on his lap, riding him while your loud moans filled the room, his name echoing in the walls like a prayer, he love taking you there, a feeling deep down his chest of proudness, a cocky grin plastered on his face while his queen pleasures him on his throne and he feels like the most powerful male alive.

Voyeurism: He absolute loves to watch you pleasure yourself while he instructs you on what to do, he caught you alone once, those little moans escaping your partly open lips while your hands rubbed circles on your clit was so incredibly hot that he made you do it again the same night, he would made you sit in bed, with your legs wide open while he tells you to use one of your hands on your clit and insert two fingers inside you, the feeling inside your belly growing as his hungry eyes devours your form while you keep going until he can’t take anymore and joins you.

Fire play: He was able to play with fire his whole life, the power of controlling it made him feel good, and he was really surprised when you suggested that maybe the additional fire than runs in his veins would be a good thing in bed, he was really afraid of burning you, he would never forgive himself if he did, so he made you promise to him that you would tell him if his fire hurt you, the sensation of pure fire dancing on your skin was overwhelming, he would use a string of fire around your neck, the burning feeling and the lack of oxygen mixed with him pounding fast against you pushed you violently over the edge, seeing you shake so hard under him awoke something within him, and you didn’t even had to ask twice on the next time.

Praise kink: Even if this male exhales the most pure confidence, you can’t convince me that he doesn’t enjoy being praised during sex, especially after a rough day. He would go to your bedroom and you immediately would sense that something is wrong even if you don’t feel nothing coming from the bond, but you just know him enough to tell he had a bad day. So when he climbs the bed, seeking for his beautiful wife, trying to forget his day, you would just make sure to appreciate the male beside you, resting your forehead against his, while he sets a slowly pace, finding comfort in your arms you just tell him how good of a male he is and how much you love him, his heart getting full of love as he finally can get his mind off the shitty day he had.

#acotar #autumn court #smut #sarahjmaas #eris x y/n #eris x reader #eris acotar #eris vanserra #eris smut #high lord eris #moonlightazriel

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scribeforchrist-blog · 4 months ago

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Flee, Run from Idols

MEMORY VERSE OF THE WEEK

=========================

+ Ephesians 4:2 With all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love,

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VERSE OF THE DAY

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+ 1 Corinthians 10:14 Therefore, my dear friends, flee from idolatry.

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SUBJECT: Flee, Run from Idols

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** SAY THIS BEFORE YOU READ; HERE’S SOME CHRISTIAN TRUTHS **

I AM LETTING GO OF IDOLS

I AM HOLDING ON TO GOD

I AM COMPASSIONATE

I AM CONTENT

********************************

THOUGHTS:

=======================

Flee, run, take off, get away, stay away. Are you running from idols? Are you keeping them away from you? Are you ignoring things that could be building an idol in your life? Are you avoiding things that could sway you away from God? Paul said it. He said friends very plainly. He said to flee from idolatry because he knew what idolatry does to a pure heart, and he warned them of it, and he’s warning us today, too.

Here are a few verses that say the same thing:

•1 John 5: 21 Little children, keep yourselves from idols.

•Revelation 22:15 Outside are the dogs and sorcerers and the sexually immoral and murderers and idolaters, and everyone who loves and practices falsehood.

•Revelation 21:18 But as for the cowardly, the faithless, the detestable, as for murderers, the sexually immoral, sorcerers, idolaters, and all liars, their portion will be in the lake that burns with fire and sulfur, which is the second death.”

Idols will always have the same meaning as it did then and now ,yes, we don’t have things made of gold and silver. We have different things, and they are all still the same. They are things that could take away our attention from God; they are things that could pull our desire to spend time with God; this is what happened then, too; they wanted other things to fill them instead of God, and we are no better than they were , some of us desire the same things.

These two verses warn us of this. They tell us that the people who practice idolatry and murder are cowards, faithless, and sexually immoral and will not enter heaven, but we also won't enter if our hearts are focus on idols. Anything or anyone can be an idol. Yes, people can be idols, people placing their marriage on a pedestal, placing someone you dating before spending time with God, because if they have the best part of your day and the best part of your time, that will pull us away from bible reading and, mediation and praise and worship time, and for something or someone to come before God that’s an idol.

When I first got my Steam Deck, I was excited to have it. I have always wanted one, and I am big on gaming. I think I have mentioned this, but what I must do so I won't let the games or anything get between God and me I will do everything I need to do, like read my word, pray, mediate anything that I must do for the lord I do it in advance because I don’t want anything that is an item to become my idol. It's so easy to do because sometimes we get lost in a new relationship, , or a marriage, and we place it before God, and it doesn’t even have to be a JUST marriage; it can be a new show or hobby ETC.

We don’t see that we have an idol now because we deny time with him for them; we must learn to separate our sleeves from anything that can steal our heart from God or ask God for self-control, and he’ll give it to us. Still, we must be willing to have that. If I did anything I shouldn’t or if I gave too much time in one area of my life, he would tell me, Lui, I need you to do this. I do it immediately because I never want to make God feel I choose things over him. Some people place their marriage over God because they want to keep their marriage. Still, friends, let me tell you this: just like God will blow on finances, he will blow on that relationship or marriage OR ANYTHING ! if it is becoming bigger than him in our life; he will also show you what you are letting replace him, before this happen but we must be able to listen and follow his words.

Psalm 135:15-18 The nations' idols are silver and gold, the work of human hands. They have mouths but do not speak; they have eyes but do not see; they have ears but do not hear, nor is there any breath in their mouths. Those who make them become like them, and so do all who trust in them.

This verse tells us that SOME OF THE IDOLS we have don’t have mouths, eyes, ears, ears, or breathing; they can’t help us at all, so why turn to something like this? Why believe or trust in things of this nature?? Why? These things can’t do anything for us at all, but God can see, hear, and do everything we need.We must start trusting that what God can offer is what we need.

***Today, we learned how idols can be worthless and how God can be everything we need; idols are people and things; it’s anything we place over God. We must let go of this idea; we can have both, and we can’t; the word tells us we can’t serve two masters; we will pick the one and hate the other, and we never want to place ourselves in that situation!

We must allow God to be our everything and let go of the things we know, down to our phones, TV, people, anything; we must let it go and allow God to be exactly what we need. We might find comfort in anything, but will we find love like Gods’? No, we won’t. God wants us to be happy and filled with him, not with those things; he wants us to be filled with joy and the Holy Spirit; he loves you and always will. ©Seer~ Prophetess Lee

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PRAYER

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Heavenly Father, thank you for today, and giving us life, health, and strength. Lord, forgive us of the sins we have done, lord; help us to let go of our idols and trust in you! Lord, we thank you for everything letting us serve you and have you in our lives. Lord, we give you everything, and lord, whatever is in our life that’s an idol, we submit it to you; we need you more then anything we surrender you everything father continue to show us and give us ears to hear and eyes to see in Jesus' Name, Amen

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REFERENCES

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+ 1 Samuel 15:23 For rebellion is as the sin of divination, and presumption is as iniquity and idolatry. Because you have rejected the word of the Lord, he has also rejected you from being king.”

+ Isaiah 45:20: “Assemble yourselves and come; draw near together, you survivors of the nations! They do not know who carry about their wooden idols and keep on praying to a god that cannot be saved.

+ Galatians 4:8 Formerly, when you did not know God, you were enslaved to those that by nature are not gods.

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FURTHER READINGS

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Proverbs 25

Leviticus 25

Job 23

Ecclesiastes 2

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free-for-all-fics · 1 year ago

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Phantom of the Opera AU Prompt inspired by Death Upon an Austrian Sonata: A Dana Knightstone Novel! This was written with the Mystery Legends: Phantom of the Opera hidden objects game in mind, but other versions could work, pick whichever you like. Pls tag me if you’re inspired by this and I’d love to read it! 🎻🤎

A clairvoyant and up-and-coming novelist has the ability to see and speak to ghosts. This has proved very useful in building a successful writing career, as they’ve used their skills to investigate unsolved mysteries involving ghosts and the past tragedies that befell them in life. They often focus on the people, places, and circumstances surrounding strange and unusual deaths to piece together a series of events. Thanks to them, many restless spirits have finally found the peace they’ve long sought after. The novelist has been busy putting their pen to paper and, while the ghosts move on, their life stories become bestsellers. These ghosts may be gone, but they won’t ever be forgotten. The clairvoyant receives a letter from their distant cousin, Marguerite, the Baroness de Castelot-Barbezac, seeking their help.

In her letter, Marguerite explains that she’s been hearing eerie violin music in her Paris manor and a terrified woman haunts her dreams every night. In said dreams, the ghost played her violin beautifully in front of a captivated audience at the Paris Opera House, while the Phantom gazed at her longingly from afar in Box 5. Why did he have such a passionate interest in this violinist? She asks her cousin to come visit her as soon as possible, all expenses will be paid. The baroness is a woman who adores having her own way and her request cannot be denied. According to her, the ghost's music and her death are connected. The clairvoyant needs to speak to their cousin in person to find out more.

But what they see in Marguerite’s room changes everything. In her letter, she mentioned she was terminally ill, but they hadn’t realized her condition would be this bad. A woman of thirty-five and she’s already bedridden most days. Servants tend to her at beck and call while her husband is away, but none of them seem to notice you, the ghost devotedly sitting at her bedside! Although you’re a ghost, you still seem to care greatly for her! A living person! The mistress of the grand house was a dear friend to you in life, back when you both performed in the Paris Opera House. Before she was married and became The Baroness Marguerite de Castelot-Barbezac and a great lady, she was simply Meg Giry, a ballet girl who was your best friend and closest confidante.

She let you possess her body to write the letter in her hand and sign it with her name since her illness rendered her unable. Even after your death, she’s still loyal to you and wants to help in any way she can. She points to a picture frame on her nightstand and it’s a portrait of you! And standing beside you in the photo is a man - your teacher, perhaps? His face can’t be seen since he’s turned away from the camera. He’s only a silhouette in the background.

“Thank you for coming. I know you must have many questions, so let’s not waste time. Just like you, I can sense ghosts. The ghost that’s with us now is a musician. She was a famous violinist in the Paris Opera House, but both her violin and compositions went missing shortly before her untimely death. Almost everything got burned up in the Opera House Fire of ‘96, so this is the only surviving photo I have of her. As beautiful as the music she played, isn’t she? Here, take it. It’ll help you. In my dreams, I saw my dearest friend hiding away something valuable…Music sheets. Of her own composition. And then she was running - running away from someone, fearing for her life. Perhaps she fell, or was pushed…But she drowned in the lake. I don’t know who was chasing her. It happens too often; I know they’re not just dreams. Her music continues to haunt me. It’s beautiful, but fragmented. When I have my strength, I try to transcribe what I hear, in bits and pieces. She wants me to find her music, but with my current condition I can’t move much. It seems that she hid her violin and music from someone. What happened to her? What's the connection between her music and her death? I need to find out, but I can no longer do this alone.”

But while digging up your secrets, the clairvoyant may find themself falling headlong into danger while they play detective. The Opera House has been abandoned for years, condemned and left to rot ever since a great fire engulfed it following the last performance of “Don Juan Triumphant”. Its walls are filled with so many memories for you, most of them still painful. It feels like you just escaped from there and left behind all the horror, the tragedy, the death, everything. You’re very reluctant to return to that cursed and godforsaken place, but Meg urges you to go back. She knows you’d be of great help, so you accompany her cousin to the abandoned Opera House, apprehensive about what you may find inside. But you must do this. You’re so sad and weary, but you won’t be able to Rest In Peace until your violin and music sheets are found and the truth behind your death is made known.

The Opera House was once something truly beautiful, full of grand parties, music, and laughter. But now it’s burned to ash, black and decayed - It’s little more than a charred coffin, and there’s a ghost who’s lingered over this coffin and made it his eternal resting place. Forever alone in death just as he was in life, Erik haunts his Opera House. Neither of you can see him but he uses ventriloquism to throw his voice around the hollowed halls.

“Welcome to my Opera House. Welcome to your destiny! The time has come to be reunited with your Angel of Music. Do you remember our last meeting? Let me show you…Ah, I see you’ve brought a guest. Welcome, stranger, to my Opera House!”

“Who are you?”

“I am Erik. I am the Angel of Music. I am Don Juan Triumphant. I am the Phantom of the Opera! Come, prove your love to me! Bring me a black rose, and I shall show you everything!”

The Phantom has asked for a black rose! These black roses could represent his obsessive, dangerous love for you. It was a warm spring or summer day when you were at Meg’s, but the outside of the Opera House has suddenly been covered in a blanket of deep snow, and parts of the building are frozen. If Meg’s cousin set one foot outside, the blizzard would have them broken and bloody over a cliff! This can only be Erik’s doing, willing his personal Hell to literally freeze over. You’re both trapped here until either the storm passes and the snow melts, or Erik lets you both go. Meg’s cousin can’t wait around for the former, so time is of the essence before they either starve to death or succumb to Hypothermia.

As you and Meg’s cousin investigate and explore the Opera House in search of the black roses, you share with them your precious memories of the time you spent in each room. When you first came here, you had heard tales being whispered about an Opera Ghost, a creature, spirit, or man who roamed the halls and possessed the talent to disappear before your very eyes. Unbeknownst to you, he had been hiding behind the mirrors, always watching you whenever you rehearsed and played your violin. With all of these stories from the ballet girls and Joseph Buquet running through your head, you were prepared to scream and fight for your life when he first made himself known to you. But when he looked down at you, you could see a sort of sadness that you had never before seen in any other adult. You looked into his piercing yellow eyes and were not afraid, but entranced. Instead of hate or fear, you showed him compassion. That was the day your tragedy was set in motion.

“My only dream was for the world to hear my music, but he took that away from me. He wanted me to only play music for him, threatening to destroy everything I loved if I disobeyed. He could take my life but not my passion for music. I had to protect what was left of me now - my precious violin and my music. I had hoped that one day, someone would find all the sheets that I had left behind in those music boxes. I’m very grateful you’re here now. If anyone can find them, it’ll be you! But it’s been twenty years since my death and I can no longer remember where I put them!”

You both search for clues, evidence, anything that may be useful in finding your violin and sheet music. You wish you could be of more help, but you’ve been dead and trapped in limbo for so long that it’s taken its toll on your mind. Your memory is very foggy, all scrambled up in bits and pieces - 1896 feels like ages ago! You remember that Erik demanded the managers pay his monthly salary in order to prevent accidents from occurring, and even gave them orders as to how the Opera House should be run. Everything he asked for was done without question, and should someone challenge him, terrible things occurred. Just then, Erik’s disembodied voice echos throughout the Manager’s Office.

“The Managers were fools! They thought they could disobey me! I showed them just how real my cruelty could be. The managers would come to understand payment of my salary was worth every penny, if they hoped to continue their productions without incident! Do you remember how you played for me? I was always watching. Your music rang through the concert hall. The audience, obviously enraptured, stared on in plain view. I reflected from the shadows on how well I had taught you and how you had given yourself over to me, your Angel of Music!”

You find a note written by Joseph Buquet, the stagehand. In it, he describes seeing a man lurking in the caverns below the Opera House. Despite his own ambivalence, Joseph had plans to expose the man. You discover his corpse in the Actor’s Alley, stashed away in a sarcophagus stage prop by the Phantom. The small viewing window only allows you to see his sickly green hands clutching a black rose. The glass in the mirror cracks just as Meg’s cousin carefully takes the black rose from Joseph’s decayed fingers, careful not to touch him or gag from the putrid smell. Erik’s waiting behind the glass, holding out his gloved hand for the black rose expectantly.

“So you saw Joseph? I did what I had to, for our love! The stagehand thought he could capture me? His curiosity was his undoing. The stagehand should have stayed in his place. Now a threat to my plans, I would not allow him to pursue me any further. The scene for his demise was set. My only regret is that Joseph’s suspension spoiled your violin concerto. You played your solo so beautifully before he dropped in on your performance, unannounced.”

You go from room to room in the Opera House, helping Meg’s cousin avoid not only the still-active death traps Erik has left lying around, but the environmental dangers such as loose electrical wires, icy floors, flooded rooms, etc. You closely inspect anything that stands out as you uncover more and more dark secrets. Erik’s voice follows you everywhere you go. He’s always watching, always waiting. Every mirror you pass, he’s there. However, it’s your old dressing room that confuses you. Or rather where the door to your room should have been. Instead there’s a wall made of red brick that has elegantly carved designs on it, making it the most beautiful brick wall you have ever seen.

Why would Erik put a brick wall all the way down here? Meg’s cousin cannot tear down the wall or follow you inside, so you tell them to wait right there while you pass through and take a look around, alone. Erik is there, waiting for you. He’s been in your old room this whole time, using smoke and mirrors and ventriloquism to make you both believe he was following you and hiding behind the glass of every mirror you passed.

“I taught you how to play in this very room. Do you remember? I’d been trying to get your attention but you were just so preoccupied with those concerts of yours. All I wanted was to spend some time with you alone. Why did you run from me? Was this how you repaid your Angel of Music? Wasn’t it I who made you famous? Was it too much to ask you to play music only for me? Why were you so stubborn? Why did you have to die?”

For a few fleeting moments, he shows emotional vulnerability to you and only you, his love (or object of obsession). He lets you see the man behind the mask, his voice raw and thick with longing and remorse, as if he’s on the verge of crying for you but cannot will any tears to be shed. But it’s gone faster than you can blink, and he once again dons a mask of impassivity.

“You’ve come quite far. Are you ready to descend into my realm? Let me take you there. The Angel of Music is waiting for you! Prove your devotion and bring me another black rose! You will find what you need when you look for it in the cold. Come to me. I am waiting.”

No one except yourself and Christine had ever been down there and, for Christine, it had been a nightmare. For you, the House on the Lake was paradise, and you wished more than anything that you had seen it one last time before your death, though you never had the heart to return until now. You could still remember the glow of the wax candles, the sound of Erik's music filling the air as he sang, all of it mixing so wonderfully with the waves lapping on the shores and the boat in the lake. To you, it had been the most magical place in the world. For a time.

His lair by the lake is frozen over, everything covered in a thick shroud of frost, each individual snowflake creating an illusion of white lace with a unique pattern. Everything in the room itself is encapsulated by ice, even Erik’s beloved organ and monkey music box. Candles that had once made the underground cave glow with warm yellow light are permanently gray, wet, and snuffed out. You come across a pair of wooden mannequins hanging from the ceiling, dressed in wedding outfits. They appear to be in a lover’s embrace. Erik has created a mannequin in his likeness! But is the bride meant to be you? What sort of nightmarish puppet show is this? Why would the Opera Ghost hold you in an eternal wedding waltz like this? You don’t know what compelled him to put so much effort into this disturbing and intimate display, but it makes your stomach churn. Erik has written a riddle on the wall in what you hope is red ink: “When the girl fell, his world shattered."

Something needs to fall. Perhaps those figurines of you and your former maestro? When the mannequins fall into a heap on the ground, the wall collapses, revealing a hidden passageway to a secret room deep within Erik’s lair. Inside is a crypt holding only a single black coffin that’s sealed shut. There’s an inscription in the stone of his grave. It reads, “Here Lies the Angel of Music”. Is this where Erik is buried? Could it be that Erik had set fire to the Opera House while he sealed himself alive in this very tomb of his own making?

“I had reached the depths of my despair - it was all over. The shadow of my death drew near. You were the light in the darkness of my existence. I was your Angel of Music! But you left me. I couldn’t save you. All was lost. The time had come to end it! My house would burn but my spirit would not rest. One day, God willing, I would have you again!”

Upon opening the crypt, there it is - your priceless violin, clutched by Erik until his final breath. Beside his skeletal remains are the music boxes containing your music sheets and his “Don Juan Triumphant” encased in a red folder tied with black ribbon. Erik couldn’t be buried in the cemetery with you, no matter how much he may have wished it. He couldn’t be laid to rest beside you in such a public place where anyone could dig him up, but he was desperate to hold onto the only thing remaining of you. After your accidental drowning, he stole your music sheets so your final compositions would be buried together alongside him. Erik’s final lament is written on his music scores of “Don Juan Triumphant”, presumably in his own blood based on the reddish-brown tint to the ink:

“What have I done!? Forgive me, my love. I didn’t mean to...”

You don’t want to leave your violin and compositions here to rot away underground with Erik for all eternity, so you make a trade. Holding the final black rose, you kiss its soft petals before laying it in Erik’s grave. You place the blossom in his corpse’s hands so that he may still hold onto something of you eternally while you take back your violin and music. What manner of sorrow could rob a rose of its very color? Accepting your gift, Erik bids you a soft and heartfelt farewell before he dissipates into thin air. Whether he ascends into Heaven or descends into Hell, he will welcome his fate. You showed him mercy and granted him forgiveness. You freed him from his self-inflicted Purgatory, even if he didn’t deserve it. Whatever awaits him on the other side, he’s very grateful to you for helping him move on.

You turn over your violin and music sheets to the person you do care about: Meg. Knowing that you’re going to leave soon, she fulfills your final wish and musters up her strength to dance to your beautiful music while her husband accompanies her on your violin for the whole world to hear, in what will be her last ballet variation. After her performance is over and she takes her final bows, you’re finally freed from the shackles that kept you bound to the mortal plane. You feel the invisible force that had been weighing you down for many years finally lift, and you feel lighter. You can move on. Your weary soul can rest.

As the stage lights shine down and nearly blind her from their brightness, Meg vaguely sees you blow her a kiss and wave goodbye before you fade away into the warm yellow light. No. It isn’t a goodbye, but rather a see you soon. Wherever you are, Meg hopes you’re happy and that you’ll be waiting for her to join you when it’s her time. She hopes you’ll be there to escort her to the afterlife. She’d love to hold your hand and walk with you once more, like you used to when you were young girls. It won’t be long now, Meg can feel it. She has dealt with ghosts before in her life, both real and man-made. She’s not afraid. She’s ready.

It was a sad day in Paris when Meg’s husband and cousin laid her to rest. Her cousin was all set to go home, knowing they had helped Meg with her last wish, when they felt a chill down their spine. Like they were being watched. They knew that feeling well - another ghost, another mystery. Who else was haunting Meg’s manor? Could it be…?

#phantom of the opera x reader #erik x reader #phantom of the opera #phantom of the opera AU #ghost au #you and Erik are both ghosts #death upon an Austrian sonata #a Dana Knightstone novel #mystery legends phantom of the opera #mystery legends #pls tag me if you’re inspired by this #I’d love to read it #random prompt #random fic ideas #fic ideas

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shipcestuous · 5 months ago

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Burning Palms (film 2010) - father/daughter shipcest (submission)

Hey Shipcestuous. ShipCestFan here.Didn’t see Burning Palms on your master list, so thought I would mention it in case you want to post on blog and add to lists.

WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD!!!!

The 2010 film is billed as an “American satirical thriller” and “based on Los Angeles stereotypes”. The film is currently available for free on Tubi. The director brought together five short tales or segments that seriously push the envelope of societal “norms”, including one segment in which one Zoe Saldana’s character is raped and realizes she enjoyed it, seeking out her assailant again. But the segment near and dear to all of us shippers is one showing a possible shipcest between a father and daughter. The segment is titled The Green-Eyed Monster and stars Dylan McDermott as dad, the amazing Rosamund Pike as his girlfriend, and Emily Meade as daughter, Chloe.

Wikipedia describes the segment as such: “Dedra Davenport meets Chloe, the 15-year-old daughter of her fiancé Dennis for the very first time. However, she is soon disturbed by how close father and daughter are, committing suicide by cutting her veins just like Chloe’s mother, feeling herself shut out and betrayed by the unhealthy close and bordering on incestuous relationship between the two.”

While the viewer is left speculating whether, or not, father and daughter have crossed the forbidden zone of consensual sex, the pair definitely portray a warm, lighthearted and loving shipcest to some degree. Dad, Dennis, denies that there is anything strange about his and his daughter’s relationship when his girlfriend, Dedra, confronts him. But her eyes do not lie, and her mind runs wild with conclusions.

One point in the story that I found interesting was how easily Dedra decided to cheat on her fiance just because she’s furious at (and jealous of) Chloe. Seriously? It was like she was thinking, “I think my boyfriend is too close with his daughter, so I’m going to cheat on him.”

I really, really, really wish they would have made Chloe an adult and older. That’s just my personal wish. I have this (unfounded) belief that humans don’t mature and think rationally until well past 18 years of age. For me it would have given the cestship a lot more credibility. How many of us have encountered teens who “think they know everything” but don’t? For me, it was hard to watch Chloe’s actions and not think, “does she really know what she is doing?”. But on the other hand, if she would have been 25 or so years of age and canoodling with dear ol’ dad the way she was, then it would have made me think she was mature enough to know exactly what she was doing and is in it for the win. lol

Here are some screen shots from the film but feel free to edit, not post the images or not post this entire post at all, considering Chloe’s age. Truth be told, I was quite surprise that major stars like Dylan and Rosamund took it on considering the subject matter and ages portrayed.

Thank you so much for this detailed submission about Burning Palms. And for all of the caps, wow! That’s a lot of work and I appreciate it so much.

I had never heard of this movie, and it’s always really great to learn about canon(ish) incest in a relatively recent mainstream film.

It sounds like the writer/director may have wanted to push things with the age, given the “subversive” and “taboo” nature of the stories, but it would have been a lot more realistic for the girlfriend to suspect something if the daughter had been older.

If there really was smoke without fire now, it doesn’t mean that will always be the case, when she’s older.

#submission #shipcestfan #asks #r: fd #burning palms #chloe and dennis #introduction #commentary #noiv #nr #first post #new canon #tw: suicide #tw: noncon #tw: incest

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hitlikehammers · 10 months ago

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hitlikehammers' Hobbit-Birthday Prompts: DIALOGUE PROMPTS

( SONG PROMPTS )

( CONCEPT PROMPTS )

( DIALOGUE PROMPTS )

“That’s… not what that means.”

”They say when you meet the love of your life, time stops, and that's true.”

“…Why?”

“Now, I’m not going to deny that I was aware of your beauty. But the point is, this has nothing to do with your beauty. As I got to know you, I began to realise that beauty was the least of your qualities. I became fascinated by your goodness. I was drawn in by it.”

“I’ve never felt this way before.”

”So it's not gonna be easy. It's gonna be really hard, and we're gonna have to work at this every day."

“What are you doing?”

“I cannot let you burn me up, nor can I resist you. No mere human can stand in a fire and not be consumed.”

“I assume I deserve this, but can you tell me why you want to kill me this time?”

”We aren't here to make things perfect."

“You meant the world to me. I should have protected you.”

"You're the first boy I ever kissed... and I want you to be the last."

“What? Like it’s hard?”

“Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own: in pain and sickness it would still be dear.”

“Who did this to you?”

“I want to tell you with my remaining strength that I love you. I always have. I'll drift next to you every day as a ghost just to be with you. Even if I was banished to the darkest place, my love will keep me from being a lonely spirit."

“You here to finish me off, sweetheart?”

”When I first saw you, I felt like I knew you, and I couldn't stop seeing my life with you, and building a family together. One that isn't stuck in the pain of the past. It's very pretty."

“You’re worth so much more than me.”

“I’ve never had a moment’s doubt. I love you. I believe in you completely. You are my dearest one.”

“This isn’t going to end well.”

"Truth is, sometimes I miss you so much I can hardly stand it."

“Please! You have to let me make this right.”

“Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”

“You’re a monster.”

“You and I, it’s as though we have been taught to kiss in heaven and sent down to earth together, to see if we know what we were taught.”

“You don’t want this.”

“You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love--I love--I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.”

“Why did you lie?”

”I don't want to sound foolish, but remember love is what brought you here. And if you've trusted love this far, don't panic now. Trust it all the way."

#hitlikehammers v words #hitlikehammers writes #hitlikehammers' hobbit-birthday prompt fest

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theroguedragons · 1 year ago

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❝ look at them like that again and you’ll won’t be seeing anything. ❞ from Iseult

Jealousy prompts from here @bloodofthefates

“Iseult, Darling.” For a while he had just watched the scenario with amusement and the smirk on his lips proving that was still seen as he now intervened and shoved his arm between them to bring Iseult a few steps back from Laena. The prince loved when someone fought for him, especially if it was with such a fire Iseult always brought up. Her dangerous power was always obvious and still Laena didn’t scare away from facing her with that proud Valyrian blood she carried. For daemon himself there was never a question that his wife didn’t mean as much to him as his witch, but he couldn’t deny that it was flattering to see these two women fight over someone who always thought he was overseen.

His body stepped in front of Iseult so she couldn’t see his wife anymore and with a calm hum he led his hands to her face to cup her cheeks and keep her focus on himself. “Darling, she’s not our enemy. Save your power for the ones who deserve it.” His head lowered to press a kiss to her lips, not even ashamed that Laena would see exactly what he was doing cause he knew she wouldn’t intervene. “And tonight…” his mouth wandered over her ear to whisper further. “…you show me your power when you cum for me. When I fill you with what is yours to claim.” It was a dark promise but one he would keep and sealed with a kiss to her temple before turning back to Laena.

“Forgive her, dear wife. It’s just my fire that burns in her veins now too, this must be my fault by giving her too much.” Laena wanted to answer, wanted to bring her eyes back to Iseult but before she could do so Daemons hand snapped around her jaw to make her look at him, his head lightly shaking to forbid her this action. “No. You look at me when I talk to you. Lady Iseult is nothing of your concern, you hear me?” It was obvious that pain dwelled in her eyes cause instead of contradicting Laena just asked to leave and Daemon let her by pulling his hand away. Another one that was probably too scared of Iseults and his power. “Don’t mock her. She’s the most suffering in all of this, don’t you think? What we do is cruel enough for her. She doesn’t need to see your face in her nightmares on top of it.”

#daemon x iseult #v: fire & blood #answers

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sins-of-the-sea · 2 years ago

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My Brother’s Keeper

Phoebus attempts to regrow Guy’s salt-mangled hair, but despite his efforts…

“…It’s still white.”

“Huh??”

“-=Grow! Grow!=-” All Phoebus can do is just make Guy’s hair grow longer, but there is still a streak of white. “No! No! No! This can’t be!”

“Phi??”

“-=Heal! Heal!=- For G-d’s sakes, -=Heal!=-”

“Phoebus! Stop!” Guy swats at his brother’s hands, trying to keep him from overexerting himself and his Breath of Life. “I’m fine! I’m fine! I’m not dead or dying anymore!”

“Yes, you are! Look!” Phoebus lifts some of Guy’s hair to show his whitened locks.

Guy stares. “….Huh. That’s something.”

“’THAT’S SOMETHING??’ You nearly died for good and all you can say is ‘that’s something’?!!”

“Calm down, Phi!”

“No!! I will NOT calm down! I nearly lost you forever! I nearly lost you forever and I could lose you any time! Your soul is still dying!”

“Oh, for-“ Guy attempts to mask his concern over his twin with his typical ‘little brother’ brand of annoyance. “It’s nothing! Nothing! Probably just stress whitening from our ordeal like it happens in books and stories.”

“I killed you!! I killed you and the Master nearly took your soul! For the rest of eternity!”

There is a heavy pause. Awkward stares and glances.

“…Phi… I overreacted. They were words. They were just words.”

“Words kill. Mine do. I don’t have to use the ‘Death’ command to kill anyone. I don’t have to do anything to kill anyone.

“I can just-.... stand aside…. And smile.”

That last statement goes over Guy’s head, as he was never made aware of Phoebus’ malicious inaction--or thought of it as anything more than simple childhood fear. But how can he blame him. They were children. “But you didn’t do that. You found me.”

“After a few weeks!”

“I could have burned you.”

“It would have been better for me to just-…” Phoebus leans against Guy, sobbing into his shoulder. He then remembers something the Master said when Phoebus finally found him and his brother along the coastline. “…what did he do to you?”

“P-Pardon?”

“What. Did the Master. Do to you?!! Did he force himself upon you?! Beat you?! Ra-“

Guy stares, disgusted. “He did nothing like that! He doesn’t even have equipment like that!! Why do you think I’d go to him of all people for-“

Phoebus looks Guy deep into his eyes. “How do you know he doesn’t have ‘equipment’ to do anything like that with you?”

And Guy cannot deny it further. Not only did he go to the Master for sexual comfort, but he just confirmed the very words Phoebus said that caused this ordeal to begin with. “… I don’t want to hurt anyone further. I don’t want to drag anyone I hold dear to me to the Master. I don’t want Guangzhou to happen again. It would have been better if you stayed away so the Master wouldn’t crack your soul open like a clam.”

No. No. No!! This is not how it’s supposed to be! To have THAT sort of defeatist attitude should be present in Sloth! Not Lust! Lust should be the opposite! The lively to Sloth’s sleepy. The wanton and wild to the mellow and mild. Phoebus can’t accept this. He refuses to accept this. He refuses to believe Guy’s fire is burning out. This must be why that white streak is present in his hair. A warning that if Phoebus continues to be cruel to the brother who gave up his soul for him, then he can be taken away in an instant. As excruciating as reliving his worst memories with the Master was, at the very least it bought him time.

There has to be a way to rekindle Guy’s fire. There has to.

Phoebus fights back some sobs. “Did you not hear me?”

Really, Phi? “I am hearing you right now.”

“No! When you were salt! You heard me, didn’t you? You heard my words…”

“I…. I don’t recall anything.”

“I said I was sorry!”

“You've been saying sorry the past-”

“I said ‘lo syento’! As you said to me!”

“......You did?”

“And you came back to me! You even told me I was too loud!”

“I barely remem- … well, not that part. I remember coming back… and you talked back to the Master. A really, really, really stupid move! At the very least if the Master was going to take MY soul, it’s because it was dying to begin with! You didn’t have to do that! The Crew needs you!”

“They need you too! More than you’ll ever know!!”

“Why did you do it?”

“......”

“Why did you talk back to the Master? No one talks back to the Master. Even I know this. He was gracious enough to give me back to you.”

“He was…?”

“That’s how I came back, right? My soul already died. You couldn’t just bring me back with your Breath of Life. It’d be too much for you. Sin of Sloth and all.”

“I-........

“No… this is wrong….. I thought I-....

“No…. I thought- …. This can’t-.... The Master, he-....

“No! No! This is all wrong! I came back for you! He tried to manipulate me into letting you go! I didn’t want to! I refused to let you go!!”

“....Why?”

“I-I…..” Phoebus holds onto his head tightly and slumps to the ground, uncertain how and why Guy was returned to him despite his sins. If he should had Guy returned to him. If what he did... was by his own actions at all.

#[Phoebus Duchamp]#[Guy Duchamp]#[My Brother's Keeper]#sexuality tw #manipulation tw #gaslighting tw #abuse tw

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thiscrimsonsoul · 2 years ago

Text

What is your primary feeling in longing?

Your result: frustration.

In longing, you feel frustration. You feel that you've almost reached your desire one too many times and you don't understand why you keep getting denied. You feel the universe is taunting you, playing just beyond your reach and leaving you on the brink of breaking every time it dances away. When you let yourself feel your yearning, you bury your face in your hands and turn to look at the sky, not expecting an answer, but pleading for relief. There's a burn in your heart that you just can't explain in words but it's deep, you can feel it in your throat and just under your chest. You take a deep breath and exhale heavily. It settles you enough to continue on as you were. You see others living your desire and you don't feel jealous per se, but the burn raises in intensity and you just wish... something. You want change from your current situation, at this point, you don't really care what it is, just... something. Have courage my dear, you can brave the fires of this world if you so wish.

Tagged by: @illbringthechaosmagic Tagging: Anyone who wants to do this! ^_^

#about the muse #{pretty damn accurate if you ask me}

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frogtanii · 4 years ago

Text

iwaizumi was... overwhelmed, to say the least.

the past few days had been such a whirlwind of change that hajime could barely properly process, much less appropriately react to it all, so he behaved much like a zombie, saying yes when prompted, signing papers when told, and packing up what was his entire life for the past 11 months.

wow. iwaizumi collapsed on his bed as he scanned his now barren bedroom. he’d been here for almost a year and yet, all his belongings were in boxes within a couple of days.

hajime couldn’t keep the disbelieving chuckle from escaping his chest as he leaned back on his bed, dark brown eyes trained on the ceiling.

it felt like he’d spent such a large chunk of his life trapped in this house, under the foot of the woman who he thought he’d marry but in reality, he’d been in little leagues longer than he’d been in love.

iwaizumi scoffed and rolled his eyes. yeah, “in love”. it’d been about a week since his whole life started to unravel and he had hardly seen, let alone spoken to meiko throughout that entire time.

over text, she’d sworn up and down that she loved and cared about him but as she passed by him packing his things a few days ago, she’d barely spared him a second glance.

hajime wasn’t going to lie. it hurt. he’d opened his heart up to her, something he didn’t do easily, and she’d taken his trust and used it to twist him into her weapon.

he always believed he was stronger than this — he’d never forget his mother telling him so when he was younger. he had fallen and scraped his knee yet he refused to cry to keep from upsetting his mom. iwaizumi existed to live up to what his mother thought of him but here he was, completely enveloped in meiko’s shit, doing her dirty work and following her bidding like some mutt.

god, toorū was right. he really was her bitch.

“i could hear you thinking from down the hall, iwa-chan.” speak of the devil...

oikawa stood at his doorway, leaning against the frame with a posture that seemed relaxed at first glance but if you looked a little closer, you’d notice the tenseness in his shoulders and the tightness of his smile.

hajime quickly sat up on his bed before motioning for his old friend to enter. “uh, yeah,” he began, his voice cracking a little from disuse, “i have a lot to think about.”

the light haired brunette let out an understanding hum before wandering into the room, sharp observant eyes darting to look at all the empty walls. “looks like you’re all packed.”

“pretty much,” iwaizumi nodded before the room fell into an awkward silence, the two childhood friends completely avoiding one another’s eyes.

“look, i-“

“iwa-chan, i’m-“

they both paused for a moment before bursting into laughter, the sound carrying into the hall and throughout the house.

hajime wiped a few stray tears from his eyes, shaking his head at their awkwardness. “you first, shittykawa.”

toorū gasped in halfhearted mock offense before quickly sobering up, training iwaizumi with a completely serious look. “i’m sorry and before you go on some bullshit, self sacrificing rant, you’re not the only one to blame for what happened to our friendship.”

he sighed while making his way to iwaizumi’s bed, sitting down gently beside him. “i should’ve known better, okay? i shouldn’t have let my jealousy and insecurities get in between us but i guess i got swept up in the attention, yknow? meiko is actually charming when she wants to be.”

iwaizumi nodded in agreement, knowing all too well how compelling meiko could be. the room fell into a more comfortable silence as both boys escaped into their thoughts, questions about the future of their friendship flitting throughout their minds.

“oh!” oikawa was pulled out of his own head at hajime’s exclamation, his eyes moving to observe his friend dig through his pockets to procure a thick white envelope. “here. i’d like you to give this yn.”

all toorū could do was nod, his brain short circuiting at the sight of iwaizumi’s apparent kindness to the woman he tormented for so long. “uh, what’s in it?” he ventured to ask, his soft hands toying with the sealed envelope flap.

a soft chuckle came from across the bed. “don’t be so nosy toorū, just give it to her, yeah?” oikawa rolled his eyes but obliged, the bed creaking as he stood to his feet.

“so... this is it, huh?” it was like the reality of the situation was just now sinking in — they hadn’t been close in a while but iwaizumi was still his best friend and he wasn’t quite ready to let him go.

they’d been through so much together, practically growing up together and now, they’d only see each other on holidays, if even then, and then he’d never be invited to hajime’s wedding as his best man as they’d planned and he also wouldn’t be the coolest uncle/godfather of iwa’s children and—

“fuck no,” hajime scoffed with a bright grin on his face. “thought you were gonna annoy me til the end of time shittykawa. don’t tell me you’re quitting your job now.”

the hidden meaning behind iwaizumi’s words brought tears to oikawa’s eyes and before he could stop himself, he launched his body into iwa’s arms. hajime hesitated, his hands stuttering at toorū’s sides as though he’d forgotten how to hug but the feeling passed, his arms winding around his friend’s lithe waist.

“‘m gonna miss you hajime,” oikawa’s voice came out as a broken whimper, his arms tightening around his shoulders.

iwaizumi hummed instead of responding, too afraid of his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. they stood there for a moment but the honk of the moving truck outside signaled the both of them of their limited time.

hurriedly, oikawa wiped the tears off his cheeks before waving awkwardly at iwaizumi as he left the room with a friendly, “don’t be a stranger.”

and then he was gone.

toorū finally allowed himself to collapse into sobs on his best friends empty bed, his palms pressing into his eyes as he sat there and just let himself feel.

apparently, he wasn’t crying very quietly because it took only a few moments for you to find him, your soft footsteps alerting him to your presence. oikawa scrambled to wipe away what he knew was an unattractive mixture of tears and snot as you got closer.

you were one of the last people he wanted to see him like this.

“hey,” you whispered, standing a few feet away from him. “um, i know this is probably a bad time but i just wanted to thank you for apologizing? back at the awards show?”

toorū sniffed as he looked up at you with confusion written on his face. “what? you shouldn’t thank me for apologizing. ‘s common courtesy.”

you laughed softly, nodding in agreement. “well, not always. so, thank you.” finished with your piece and not too keen on lingering where you weren’t wanted, you moved towards the door but were swiftly stopped before you got there.

“um, here. it’s from iwa-chan.” you gaped at the thick envelope oikawa was handing you before taking it and opening it, a low curse falling from your lips.

inside the package was a dense wad of cash, more money than you’d seen in months. accompanied with it was a letter, written in beautifully loopy handwriting.

you shut it quickly before oikawa could see, stuffing the envelope deep within your pocket where you could access it alone in the depths of your room.

“do you wanna come eat? last i heard, bokuto and tsumu were doing a cooking competition and i’m sure it’ll be fun to watch.” you were severely thrown off by the money and letter but you were determined to show toorū that you’d accepted his apology and were on your way to making amends.

he gave you a shy nod and trailed behind you to the kitchen, the loud sounds of fire and screaming coming from down the hall. you wanted to focus on the fun and merriment but the envelope was practically burning a hole in your pocket.

later that night, you finally got the chance to open the letter and read it, your former manager’s words bringing tears to your eyes.

dear yn,

i’m probably the last person you expected to hear from. you probably didn’t want to hear from me at all if i’m being honest and i don’t blame you. i know there is nothing i can say that could make up for what i’ve done to you but i’d like to try.

i’m sorry. those words don’t nearly express in and of themselves how truly remorseful i am but they needed to be said. there’s no excuse for how i treated you — not meiko, not my stress, absolutely nothing.

you deserved my common decency and respect and i didn’t give that to you. instead, i abused my position and made your life hell. i’ll never forgive myself for that.

uh, i bet you’re wondering what the money is? i promise i’m not trying to pay you off, it’s just all the money i’ve denied you since you moved here. i have a lot of wrongs to right and this is one of them.

sorry, i’m not very good with words but i just wanted you to know that i’m very sorry for everything that i’ve done. and i’m in no place to make demands or anything but i just wanted to ask if you’d keep an eye on oikawa for me.

he’s strong but he’s also vulnerable. he might be a pain in my ass but he’s my best friend and since i can’t keep him from drowning, i was wondering if you’d do that - not for me but for him.

anyways, this letter is shit but i suppose you get the gist. use the money for whatever you want and if you’re as unselfish as i’ve heard, you don’t owe me anything. you don’t owe me money, kindness, or forgiveness.

take care of yourself,

iwaizumi hajime

℗ poker face

so... this is it

series masterlist

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

an - soooo m back :D hopefully this is the last of my mini hiatuses!! this chapter sucked to write but i’m not mad at how it turned out?? pls let me know how i did skjdkd don’t forget to feed me <3333

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @katsulovee • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @syndellwins • @jooleuuh • @loubells • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saikishairclip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @crybabygumi • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

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thecontumacious · 3 years ago

Note

Request for the boys with a gn reader who is aggressive but is that way because they've just been hurt by the people they trust?

"How strong yet gentle you are, after all."

a/n: the above quote is a translation from this song (it's so good btw and vibed with this prompt so much <3). now bcs anon didn't specify the type of aggression, i'm going to go with a verbally aggressive reader and try to stay away from more physical topics to make it easier to read for everyone!

the world is not always fair. it has always been this way. you know it, i know it, everyone does. it’s something we can’t change.

but people always say: although we can’t change it, it is our own self that needs to change how we see it. it’s up to us how we react to the unfairness of the world. it’s up to us to be strong.

yet, it still hurts so terribly, doesn’t it?

it’s not always easy to smile when the shadow of your once friends lingers next to you and family members who gave up on you. you simply don’t want to be hurt by those who betrayed you. it’s only natural humans want to avoid pain and suffering.

aggression is but a mere reaction to frustrating situations and hurtful outcomes. right?

Vox Akuma 👹🌹

400 years is a long, long time

so of course he’s seen things like these happen

he’s interacted with all sorts of people, from the most gentle and kind to the most brazen and crazed

vox understands how the wound digs into you and continues to make you suffer, causing you to be more hostile and have the tendency to be angry at minor things

it was no different for him either

there are times that you are harsh with him too, giving him back handed compliments or simply being passive aggressive

vox won’t lie and say that it doesn’t hurt him

but he also won’t deny the fact that you deep down were hurting more than he was

as i said before, he’s seen all colors of people

so he knows what’s up as to why you’re very aggressive. hence why he knows how to handle things, even if you haven’t told him what really happened

with his extreme patience and gentleness, vox will approach you slowly

he talks to you at a steady pace, ensuring that he doesn’t create more tension and more wood for your aggression to burn on

“my dear, can you listen to me for a moment?” vox tells you softly, offering his hands ready to receive you in his arms

but you were still in a fit of rage, refusing him

the demon continues to smile, stepping even closer. “only a second, love. please?”

despite being highly moody, the gentle demeanor of vox helps you calm down and stay grounded

so no matter how many times you deny his attempts to calm you down, there will always be a time where you finally will only because of vox’s incredible composure

as if the fire had finally been put out with soothing water, you curl up against vox while mumbling apologies for being so harsh on him

all vox did after that was whisper sweet nothings in your ear, cradling you into his chest

“it’s alright, my dear,” he’d mutter into your hair before pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead

all present negative and red emotions dissolve, replaced only with but the moment of you being held by vox

and for when you become aggressive with other people, vox is quick to intervene by taking you away for the time being until he can get you to calm down

“shh, hey, hey, look at me, sweet thing,” he then grabs your chin, making you pause. then he’ll just smile, kissing you

and once you’re ready to go back to the previous situation, vox knows that you’ll handle yourself better this time so he’ll let you go alone without having to be there next to you

that’s just how much he believes in you <3

once the situation has been dealt with, no longer in a state of hostility, vox will bring you into his arms again

loving headpats, gentle smiles, maybe unseiso jokes to make you laugh and of course, praises for having been able to control yourself

“you’re very strong, you know that?” he whispers, cupping your face with your forehead against his. “you’ve become an honored fighter.”

all in all, vox is someone you can lean on as he will never, ever judge you for who you were. he has the deepest understanding of how humans work among everyone else so it’s a given you’ll be safe with him ❤️

other boys utc!

Mysta Rias 🦊🔶

unlike vox, mysta will be the opposite of how he’ll react to you being a more aggressive natured person

because of this, mysta will be shrinking the first time seeing you being so harsh towards him

he’ll think that there’s something wrong with him every time it happens, wondering if there should be anything he needs to change in order for you to be happier with him

i think mysta is afraid to talk to you about it too, worried that you might get offended by it

the relationship will be super rocky at first with so much tension happening between the two of you

he considered letting you go tbh, but made up his mind when he saw you acting the same with other people

mysta watches you being angry at small things, continuing to be hostile

he notices how these people acted the same as he did

that’s how mysta knew that the problem didn’t really lie within him, more so there was something in you that caused you to be like this

after mustering up all the courage he had in the fibers of his body, mysta pulled you aside one day and spoke first

“c-can i talk to you about something, y/n?” he isn’t without his anxiety though but he’s determined to pull through

you tilt your head, “okay? what’s up mysta?”

“please don’t be offended by it, okay? i don’t mean anything bad,” he sighs. “i’ve noticed how… uh, you’re very aggressive. with me, with other people.”

at his observation, you turn pale with grief

“ha-have i been scaring you?” you stammer, bringing your hands together. you drop your head, “i-i’m so sorry mysta, i didn’t mean to! i never wanted to scare you or anyone, honest! it’s just… um, well, i do get aggressive.”

mysta scratches the back of his head awkwardly, “well, yeah you do. and i wanted to talk to you about it. is something going or…?”

you avoid eye contact with him for a minute and mysta knew he just hit the core of the problem. so there was something going on you hadn’t told him about

“i just… don’t wanna get hurt is all,” you say.

and for once, mysta doesn’t feel like he has to be cautious with you anymore.

he’s looking at you in a different light

you seemed… vulnerable as you told him everything

the reasoning behind your more rough tendencies, how you are prone to being harsh

by the end of it, all mysta saw was a warrior who was trying their best to fight through it all. though it wasn’t best of ways to handle things, mysta knew what to do now

when you finish and it’s his turn to speak, he smiles full of relief and brings you into a hug

“i’m really sorry i scared you mysta… i didn’t mean to,” you mumble into his chest. but mysta only held you tighter

sigh, after all this time, you’ve only been fighting alone

“it’s okay, y/n. it really is,” he says, patting your head down. “i understand now and i’m glad i got to talk to you about it. you’re a real fighter.”

and that you were

in the beginning, things were a bit awkward as mysta was very unsure on how to handle someone with aggression

but did that stop him? nah

if anything, it kept motivating mysta to find a way to help you as best as he can

you were precious to him, so he wasn’t going to let you be alone anymore

when days were too rough for you, mysta will gladly be there for you even if it meant getting hurt by your harsh words

he’ll do his best to patiently untangle what causes the tension, intervening when necessary

i think mysta won’t have the willpower like vox to completely stop you but he’ll definitely try to prevent it when he sees the signs

times like these will be long, but it’s more bearable with mysta there. when you start seeing red, he’s going to appear before you and remind you to take more control of your emotions

his silly clownish self will most times work after all

Luca Kaneshiro 🦮🔆

man is used to interacting with aggressive people since he is the literal boss of a mafia

he’ll admit he was slightly shocked seeing this rough trait come from you

this doesn’t him stop however and he won’t be scared of you like how mysta would be

he does get hurt from what you say sometimes so he’ll try his best to gently tell you to ease up on your tendencies

luca knows it won’t be easy breaking out of it, since he’s well aware it’s part of someone, but he doesn’t want to risk exposing you to the bad things aggressive behaviors can cause

and tell me, isn’t it hard staying mad at someone as bright and adorable as luca?

thought so

the day was particularly hard for you, and well the people were just a thousand times more irritating than usual

which of course became the source of why your aggressive nature had come to its peak

you were pretty much untouchable. anyone who came close would be so much as singed upon approaching you

except for luca

“babe! babe! hey, hey, what’s wrong?” luca interferes immediately upon seeing the metaphorical red in your eyes

but you don’t pay him any attention yet, instead focusing on your subject of anger

seeing you so mad and harsh rly put luca on the spot the first time it happened, he was too frozen to do anything. however he finally came to his senses once you start sputtering some really bad, bad words

“woah, heyyyy,” luca stands in front of you, shielding whoever/whatever was the victim of your curses both for their benefit and yours

you would try to shove luca away, or maybe even start thrashing at him, but he’s quick to hold your hands and stop you

this finally breaks you out of your angered frenzy, pausing to take a breather

it seemed as though you finally woke up from a terrible dream, only now realizing luca was right in front of you

he was frowning as he tightly held your hands out of caution

and this broke your heart deep down seeing him concerned

“lu-luca?” you call out

luca smiles at you, bringing your hands towards his lips to place a chaste kiss

“hi,” he’ll chuckle, and you’ll do the same

he’s positively contagious like that

he probably won’t mention it right after, instead going straight to the point of the matter

if it was something involving someone else, luca will help resolve things with them and keep you at bay (most times you’re back calm again!)

but if it was just a trivial conflict, luca will direct your attention elsewhere, preferably to things you enjoy or play games he was interested at the time

“hey, let’s get some food after this! i heard they opened a new restaurant and it’s super pog,” he’ll suggest, already tugging your hand out towards the door

it’s only when you’re completely calm again does luca address your aggressive nature that day, gently telling you that things didn’t need to be solved in such a manner

“if you need help with it, you know i’m always here, babe!” luca grins, bringing you into a bear hug. “there’s nothing to be ashamed of to ask for help.”

luca kaneshiro does not judge, first and foremost. he’s always very understanding and will put your feelings first before his no matter what happens. he chose to be with you, so he’ll stay with you, aggressive behaviors and all

Ike Eveland 🖋💙

i hate to break it to you but the first time it happened, ike didn’t receive it too well

he initially thought you were being brash or unnecessarily irrational about your emotional control, definitely irritated by your actions

when you kept saying offensive things, an obnoxious amount of curse words and getting too tense over a small matter, it lit ike on fire

“would you stop being such a brute?!” ike snaps, his patience paper thin

but of course, this only pushes you deeper into the abyssal anger you had been holding onto

if your subject of madness wasn’t already on ike, you redirect your attention to him and get into a super heated argument over-

well pretty much nothing…

it originally didn’t even mean much but with the back and forth clapbacks and sinister comments, it seemed like a bigger problem than it should be

it only ends when you say something overboard and it genuinely hurts ike, to the point where he isn’t mad anymore, he’s just sad

he’ll stay silent and let you bark at him

once you finish, ike mumbles a soft apology before leaving

you could say that this might be the worst episodes of being aggressive, and you weren’t a villain, you didn’t have bad intentions

the situation just pushed you into it, and tbh, you hated how you didn’t fight it enough

now ike is somewhere, wounded by your words and actions

your heart was beyond broken at this rate

so you try to look for him, desperately wishing that he’s somewhere within your reach and still in a state where things can be fixed between you two

luckily, he was in his study, back turned to the door as he worked readily into the evening

ike tensed when the door creaked open, but he didn’t turn around.

man that stung…

you inhale whatever courage you had left in you before asking, “c-can i talk to you, ike?”

look, he may gotten mad and irritated at you over what happened, but that didn’t mean he was in to ignore you

so he sighs and turns around, eyes visibly tired

“fine.”

you take a brave step forwards and start explaining your situation, from the beginning till how it all ended up being

“oh… oh god,” ike’s voice is trampled upon, you don’t know by what but he quickly stands and brings you in for an embrace

you snuggle against him anyway though, despite the guilt eating you up inside from being so unnecessarily angry

ike starts to pat your head down, placing kisses all over your face before he starts apologizing profusely, “i’m sorry, i’m so so sorry…”

“what for, ike?”

“i became mad at you and thought you were being so annoying by being so angry at little things when really, it’s not like that,” he mutters into your hair, hugging you even tighter.

“hey, it’s my fault too for not telling you and i should’ve controlled myself better,” you smile gently

but ike shakes his head, “i’m sorry…”

“it’s okay, ike.”

you bet this experience stuck with him for so, so long. not only with you either, he learns to be more patient with anyone! he isn’t quick to react like he used to, especially when he doesn’t know the full stories to things

ike after that seemed to be clinging on to you much closer than usual

in reality, he’s actually studying your habits and personality more, making sure that he can help control your more aggressive nature whenever it acts up

he won’t hesitate to do research on how to handle things much easier without hurting him or you too, since he only wants the best for you

when you’re being particularly moody, ike is quick to intervene and push you away from the situation by gently trying to coax you out of your red state

it’s going to take some time, he understood that, but he’s willing to do it

for you as well, after that huge fight, whenever you see ike you always manage to calm down although sometimes just by a bit

but the longer he stayed and the more he insisted on being with you until it doesn’t hurt anymore, you start to ground yourself again

when you finally get to the point you’re calm again, it’s easier to manage things especially since it’s more than likely ike will stay to help you out

“are you okay?” ike will ask you, with a soft beam across his face. you nod before he leans in for a chaste kiss. “good, i’m glad.”

ike will probably bring you over, have you sit next to him or on his lap and just silently enjoy each other’s presence, him reading, you working, just be together <3

things won’t be perfect with ike. he too is still as human as you after all, but ike is willing to accept all of your flaws and stories just as much as you accept all of his

Shu Yamino 🔮✨

he won’t lie, he’ll be super intimidated the first time he saw you get so incredibly mad

it’ll feel like he’s walking on a landmine, if not careful he might set off something unwanted

especially when it kept happening in the next few weeks

shu might or might not forget how to joke or talk to you, you may also say that it got awkward between you two

but shu didn’t want that to happen so he tries to ease into conversations with you

the best he can ;-;

“hey, babe,” shu would’ve bring you into a hug and kiss you all over, but he retracts it to just a mere peck on the cheek

you’ll notice obviously, with the lack of communication you guys had and just how less shu is showing affection

you worried if this was the phase where he was beginning to fall out of love with you but instead of wallowing over it, you approach him

“shu? can i talk to you about something?”

he looks at you, nodding. “sure, what’s up?”

“um, a-are we okay? you seem more… distant,” you avoid contact and shu realizes then the mistake he made of being too cautious with you

he instantly has you sit down in front of him, cupping your face gently all the while still firm and reassuring

your eyes are filled with uncertainty, visible worry and some desperation

shu’s heart had never split open that badly

“baby, i am so sorry for making you feel like this,” he sighs, kissing your nose. “i don��t mean to make you doubt but… ah, how do i say this?”

he then feels your fingers touch his

“you can tell me.”

shu spares you a look before saying, “you know how you’ve been getting mad a lot more?”

you catch on almost immediately and pale up

“i have to admit, it's kind of scary… i never see you like that and i may or may not have started to give you space even though you didn’t ask. now i know that was a big mistake on my part.”

to think it was a good idea to leave you alone…

“i-it’s partly my fault too, shu.”

“hm? how so?”

then you start recounting everything, from the very first time it triggered you and how you learned to pretty much protect yourself from it, though through more harsh means

for the first time in a while, shu sees you slowly stripping yourself of your outside walls

now all that’s left is but your more vulnerable self, raw and nothing to hide

“i just don’t want to get hurt but if it hurts you, i’ll try to change i’ll—“

shu places a finger on your lips, which instantly shuts you up as he removes it again

the sorcerer sighs, proceeding to brush away your hair and leaning against your forehead

“you’re already perfect, there’s no need to change.” he smiles softly. “i was just a bit surprised at first. but i’m okay with it. just let me help you when it hurts okay? i don’t want to leave you alone again.”

and shu is a man of his words, what he says goes

he will do his darnest to make sure that you don’t doubt yourself anymore, especially because of him

if you wanted help to control yourself, shu is more than willing to be there and hold you throughout the entire process, cheering you on and offering any possible direct support

when it gets bad, shu will notice right away and will do more of the preventing rather than stopping it

he’ll mentally note down when you’re about blow off steam, so he can prevent it ahead of time and make sure you’re reacting to the situation with a cooler head

it helps you form a good habit of controlling yourself too, so i’d say shu would be the quickest out of luxiem to help you sort things out in terms of self control

when they say shu is a sorcerer, he does actual wonders for the people around him and can get a hold of things super quickly

you are absolutely no different to this effect, if anything, you become a whole lot more important to his life. any help or support needed, shu will throw away his life plans to make sure you were doing okay <3

Masterlist!

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