#but there's a difference between depression and despair

[femininominon]

there is the agony of living in America (contributing to its global acts of cruelty simply by living and working and feeding and clothing yourself) and the agony of living in America today when it has become so clear that even if every politician making these choices on my behalf were killed, it would make no difference and they would be swiftly replaced by their ideological twin

[atalana]

having one of those nights where i'm just. extremely frustrated about fatphobia's existence and the fact that whatever i do to try and change it will be a drop in the ocean and there'll always be people who think i'm just saying this because i'm lazy

[axiina]

I think I'm finally worn

Pairing: Aegon Targaryen x wife!reader

Summary: Aegon managed to keep up appearances for a long time, a mask behind which he hid everything he felt... until finally, he could no longer do so.

Themes: angst, comfort

Warnings: Delulu fanon Aegon, toxic relationship, addictions, depression, mental break down

Author's note: In anticipation of the fifth episode I come with a short angst with Aegon. The scene where he cried and Alicent came out destroyed me, so here we are with comforting our broken boy

Aegon felt awful.

He had no idea if it was due to the excess of alcohol he was pouring into himself every day, or perhaps because of how he was slowly spiralling down. In truth, he felt that his whole life was one big failure heading towards a final doom.

He had always shown by his behaviour that he was not afraid of this moment or perhaps even looking forward to it. The reality, however, was different.

He was afraid. He was so damn scared.

Every moment when he wasn't drinking himself till passing out was a nightmare. He can't even remember how much time has passed since the last time he was sober.

It was easier that way. The days passed quickly and without unnecessary thoughts. Between the drinking and the whores during his days, there was no room for reflection.

Today, however, was worse, but Aegon couldn't tell why.

No one particularly bothered him. His mother didn't pop up with another argument about what a failure he was, and his father...his father ignored him as usual.

And yet, this strange feeling had been with him since the morning. Hopelessness and overwhelm. This state was already familiar to him, and yet today, it seemed several times worse.

It stifled him and left him unable to breathe. His eyes would close with tears when he least expected it, and his clenched throat made it impossible to drink.

Until he couldn't hold it in any longer.

He didn't even notice when his wife entered his chamber, immersed in an overwhelming feeling of hopelessness. Aegon was slumped in his seat, weeping without even knowing why. He was completely defenceless like a small child.

He needed something to soothe the tangle of emotions that, like ties, wrapped around his body, restraining it painfully. His skin seemed to burn, to ache. He felt like scratching it until it bled until it finally stopped.

Make it finally stop.

Aegon looked up at woman in his chamber and realized he couldn't do it. He just didn't have the strength. His wife's worried gaze only made him more upset. He hated the feeling that she could see him now, so vulnerable and broken, crying like a baby. Aegon didn't want this.

And yet, on the other hand, his heart was screaming and begging for at least a little comfort.

"I don't...I don't know..." He tried to speak, but his voice broke. He tried again, but it was clear that he was unable to explain.

Aegon took a deep breath, but after a moment it turned into a sob. He cursed inside, but it was too late to fight already. He felt pathetic, ashamed. But at the same time, he couldn't stand to be alone now. Aegon didn't want to be left alone with all these thoughts tormenting him.

"Please," he said finally, not looking at her. "Don't leave."

He was terrified by the mere thought that she could leave now.

As if waiting for this small sign of comfort, Aegon immediately leaned into her embrace when she walked closer to him in silence and pulled him closer to her body. He rested his forehead against her stomach, his arms snaking around her hips as tightly as possible. He clutched at her dress, his fingers digging into the fabric like a drowning man grasping for anything solid to keep him afloat.

The tears were streaming down his face as he wept like a little boy.

All the years of disappointment, all the suppressed anger, all the pain and despair that he had stubbornly hidden behind a mask of a heartless rake.

But at this moment, the only reality that mattered was her. Her warm and gentle caress on his hair, soft kisses on top of his head.

He just needed her to be there with him.

[kquil]

POLY MARAUDERS | HEROES IN TATTOOS PRT.6

06 : SELFISH DESIRES

SUM : it's your chance to make amends and push aside your selfish desires - your heart will ache but they're worth it 

TAGS. : modern au ; muggle au ; tattoo artist james potter ; piercer remus lupin ; angst ; idiots in love ; unexpected turn of events ; sirius is the main character here ; jk jk ; it's you~ hehe~ ; you'll see what i mean ; wolfstar have a heated argument ; i almost cried writing it ; i hate seeing them like that ; poor james ; james needs a hug ; regulus makes an appearance! ; dramatic sirius black ; regulus is a good brother ; sirius being an instigator ; we love him for it though ; you can't just leave them again! ; no fluff here kiddos ; but kiddos stay away! ; just cover your innocent eyes! 

LENGTH : 3.7k

← PREV. : 05 | DRUNK AND CIGARETTE SMOKE

“You’re disgusting,” Sirius manages an indifferent glance over at his younger brother before resuming his miserable, unmoving position on the sofa — Regulus’ sofa. The obvious detachment Sirius has to the situation only stirs his younger brother’s bubbling anger, “It’s almost been a full month! And you’re letting yourself rot away on my sofa; get a hold of yourself!” No response. Regulus shakes his head with a drawn out sigh, “you usually don’t stay around this long whenever there’s an argument… I wonder what’s happened this time…”

Deeming his older brother completely hopeless, Regulus returns to his sparse but sleek kitchen just as the kettle whistles its readiness to be poured for tea.   

Sirius breaths an audible sigh and grimaces at the stench of his breath. The mix of excessive alcohol, countless cigarettes and mountains of junk food didn’t make for a good concoction on his tongue, definitely not for fresh breath. When was the last time he had brushed his teeth? He brings a hand up to push straggling strands of hair away from his view but grumbles when the curls had knotted up too much for him to comb his hair back uninterrupted. Stone grey eyes look down at his figure, stagnant and pale, weighed heavy from low spirits. 

What followed the night you left their flat was the worst fight they have ever had. It was mainly between him and Remus while James remained in the background, too downhearted to contribute anything to the verbal warfare happening before him. He was spoiled with love since birth. As an only child with loving parents, who never fought in front of him, whenever Sirius and Remus argued, James was left paralysed with despair. It was always shocking to him how nasty those fights became; his parents never fought like that. Sirius could see it in his sweet hazel eyes that James wanted desperately to have peace but didn’t know how to steer things in that direction. He had tried before, many times, to defuse the situation but both Sirius and Remus were too stubborn and hot-headed from the argument as well as their suddenly stark differences in opinion to back down. 

As unfortunate as it is to think about, these fights happened often, recurring in the same exact way – originating from opposing opinions, primarily between him and Remus. They would try to keep it together but it would just keep piling up until someone snaps and then there’s no dispelling their disputes. James either takes a side or none at all (usually the later) and Sirius storms out of the flat to stay with Regulus. 

He should feel guilty for being such a burden to his younger brother. He should have more pride in himself than to allow Regulus to ever see him in such a depressed and unpleasant state. Lack of hygiene, self care and self maintenance manifests into something so repulsive and unsightly, Sirius would usually be back and making amends within a week or two – encouraged by his own lack of cleanliness and his commitment to run from the disease of laziness. 

But it’s been more than that now. Nearly a month, Regulus says. Time just passes by, slow and tolerant, so unlike him, and yet, Sirius still managed to lose complete track of it. This is the longest they’ve ever had a dispute without reconciling.  

His own stubbornness is definitely a factor. He had been right all along. If only they, mostly Remus, had listened to him. James was fully on board but Remus was stubbornly defiant and managed to convince the former otherwise. 

“Do you think she’s the type of person who would embrace such an unconventional relationship with open arms?!”

“That’s not what I’m saying, Moony,” Sirius grits his teeth, his inner thoughts and reasoning ached to be heard and let out coherently. In his mind, it all made sense to do things the way he suggests, so why couldn’t his boyfriend understand him?! It doesn’t even seem like he’s trying to listen to him at this point! “She won’t understand if we don’t say anything to her! We have to be forward and bold! Do it now before something happens!”

“Nothing. Is. Going. To. Happen!”

“How can you be so sure? We need to be honest with her, it’s not fair to her and it’s, frankly, deceitful to keep her in the dark about all this!”

“We can’t be too sure that she’ll accept us. If that happens then we’ll never see her again– I don’t want that, do you?!” 

“We won’t know unless we say something, do something, anything!”

“Please just trust me, Siri,” Remus begs, his loud voice lowering to a soft plea, his beautiful brown eyes no longer fierce or piercing but kind and warm again, with a hint of fear. Sirius can sympathise with that creeping terror, an anxiety that wants to swallow you whole and keep you in a dark abyss for eternity, “I don’t want to frighten her…”

The first time, Sirius gave in, weak for his love and weak for the reasoning behind his proposal on the matter concerning you. The dark-haired tattooist couldn’t fault his lover for that but, in hindsight, he should have argued his side more, maybe then, you wouldn’t have disappeared like that…

“Hey, your phone won’t stop pinging,” Regulus alerts, appearing out of thin air and surprising Sirius enough to sit up and alert with wide eyes, “will you finally read their messages to you?” with some reluctance, Sirius reaches for his phone and proceeds to look through his messages while Regulus takes a seat opposite him, a steaming cup of tea in hand.

The younger Black brother was just about to begin reading another one of his classic novel favourites when a rush of air flew by him, ruffling the small strands of hair and whipping about the billowing steam from his mug of tea. Moments later, the sound of his shower turning on full blast echos through his flat and a smile graces his lips. 

“It’s about time…”

Lingering guilt had plagued you all night long and you barely managed to get a wink of sleep. It, however, meant that you were able to better prepare lunch for the boys the following day. While cooking, you abandon all negative feelings to focus on only the good, not wanting any harmful emotions to diffuse into the food and saturate it with bad tastes. Your eyebags weren’t a pretty sight but it was easily fixable with a touch of makeup. 

You tried to look your best for the day. Fortunately, the early summer sun inspired your motivations further. Yes, you’ve made the terrible mistake of selfishly pushing them away to nurse your own battered soul and unrequited feelings, but this was your time to make amends, to make things right… to see Sirius again. 

You never felt right after you accused him of cheating on Remus and James with each other, only to find out that he was far more loving and loyal than that. You were embarrassed and ashamed to have ever thought so negatively about him, jumping to conclusions like an immature, thoughtless child. It was wonderful seeing James and Remus again, your heart was practically soaring in your chest as it disregarded all lingering feelings of misery and dejection. But now, your chest felt incredibly tight as your heart ached to catch a simple glimpse of Sirius.  

You carefully pack away the lovingly prepared food and desserts into your largest, most durable shopping bag before getting dressed. It was only natural that you managed to make more than you usually made for the boys, seeing as you wanted to spoil them rotten after being so childish the last few weeks. Since the weather was pleasant, you opted for a cute mini dress with a light, flowy material that was comfortable and soft. Over top, you wore a cropped cardigan that had long sleeves, enough to reach past your fingertips. For jewellery, you wore a simple necklace and slipped into a strappy pair of mid-heeled platforms that weren’t too tall. Casual but cute. 

Approaching the studio doors, your grip on the strap of your bag tightens and your breath hitches. They hadn’t taken the notice down and the bold, red letters of their ‘CLOSED’ sign glared at you angrily. 

Were they inside? Should you knock? Neither Remus or James actually agreed to your sudden choice to meet for lunch the night before. Did this mean that they didn’t want you to be in their lives anymore?... But… but you wanted to make things right! You wanted to apologise! You want to be friends with them again! You’ll tell them right away – tell them how you would do anything just to remain by their side, even if it’s just as a friend, you’ll be happy for them! You won’t be selfish anymore, you won’t covet anything more than friendship with them, that’s all you want! Not that they’ve ever heard of your true desires—

“Well?” A familiar voice speaks up behind you, putting an abrupt end to your panicked inner monologue, “Aren’t you going to knock?” 

Swiftly spinning in place, you smile brightly at the biker and tattooist standing before you, dressed in all black, with heavy, lace-up boots and his signature leather jacket, “Sirius!” 

He doesn’t breathe a word to you, eyeing your hefty bag before briefly meeting your eyes and making his way over. His long strides made it so that he reached you in no time but he didn’t stop. With a light gasp, he had backed you up into the left of their studio’s double-door front entrance. You held your breath and kept your eyes shut tight, not knowing what to do as your heart pounded deafeningly against your eardrums. 

A moment passes and you feel his hand brush against yours before your portly bag of packed food is taken from you. A wave of relief washed over your aching shoulder as the weight disappeared but such a diminutive alleviation of discomfort couldn’t swamp the trepidation in your heart. Sirius was different. 

“Siri–”

“Let’s head inside,” he had opened the right hand door and easily slipped through with your bag. Alone and in the quiet, you felt like crying. You wanted to cry, desperately but you knew that it would offer little to no reassurance. So, with a heavy heart, you followed Sirius inside and closed the studio door behind you. 

The air was stale but, in it, lingered a familiar scent that you had come to love, it was a clean, almost clinical smell from the regular use of disinfectant and bleach. You love this parlour so much, it was filled with so many good memories, ones of soft affection through tender words and gentle caresses. Despite the earlier interaction, you couldn’t help but smile just from the wave of romantic sentiment washing over you. 

“You’re here,” Remus greets with a tired smile as James sits on the opposite end of the sofa with a shy grin directed towards you, his hazel eyes looking elsewhere.

“Sorry if I’m late,” you managed a weak smile, “I didn’t know if the door was open or not. Thankfully, Sirius was there to help me in,” Sirius didn’t sit down despite the many available seating spaces and chose to lean his back against a far wall, instead. James couldn’t meet your eyes and Remus was sneakily massaging his temple as he leaned his face against his large hand, “let’s eat, shall we? I hope you guys are hungry,”  

It was never this awkward. Or quiet. Especially when sharing your homemade lunch together. James would usually be giving you endless praise through large, mid-chewed mouthfuls while Sirius laughed at the ridiculous sounds and faces he’d pull trying to speak coherently through the mouthful of food, and Remus would shake his head, his amusement by the display evident in the warm glimmer of his eyes. However, James doesn’t have as big of an appetite today and Sirius stands alone with his tupperware, barely touching his food. Remus is the only one eating a substantial amount besides you. Although, you’ve gradually slowed your own chewing. 

What have you done?... 

What happened to all of you?

Your shame brought your gaze down, making your head weigh heavier than usual as you give up on communicating anything with the boys. This wasn’t how it was meant to go…what should you do now? The pain in your heart was unbearable. 

Shoulders slumped and confidence dried up, you struggled to think of what to do. You should have prepared a speech or something. It was naive of you to think that simply coming over with a homemade lunch would fix anything. Things are never going to be the same, no matter how much you hope and pray for them to be. 

You’re hopeless… completely and utterly hopeless…

This was your worst fear come to life. You had feared rejection but seeing them unloving towards each other, barely communicating and broken apart, your stomach collapsed in on itself as your heart fell to a million pieces. You didn’t utter a single word of loving them romantically aloud and yet, you still managed to get in between their relationship. This was a sentiment of how selfish of a person you are. 

How could you do this to them?! They were your friends, who saved you from the worst night of your life, and you repay them like this?! Shameful. Disgusting. You don’t think you could ever look at yourself in the mirror again.  

The skirt of your mini dress blurs on your lap and you have to bite your lip to keep from sobbing out loud. The tears, however, you couldn’t stop them. Hopefully, they’re all too distracted to see you silently weeping and you can gather yourself before turning tail and running out of there. 

Today is a complete disaster—

“Don’t cry, angel, please!” James jumps up and rushes to your side, kneeling down at your feet as he takes your hands in his and tries to meet your gaze through the puddle of tears in your eyes. His words immediately catch Remus and Sirius’ attention and they both begin to make their way over, evident worry swimming in their eyes but you refuse to acknowledge any of that as your mind drowns in all manner of negative thought.  

You shake your head, hearing the flurry of footfalls around you and wishing them away silently, “I shouldn’t have come here today…” you whisper. 

“What was that?” James patiently asks, voice soft and sweet and kind, it makes you want to fall into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” you speak clearer and stand abruptly, “enjoy the lunch,” the haste and sorrow in your shaking voice makes their heart drop and they’re brought back to that fateful night once more. You don’t meet their eyes as you turn and push past them to leave, almost running through the hallway of their studio just to reach the door and make a quick escape. 

“THIS!” Sirius’ roaring voice suddenly cuts through the studio like a knife, making you stop in your tracks and turn around slowly. The door to the lounge room was still open, before it Sirius and Remus stood in an aggressive confrontation, both taking on a defensive stance as they faced each other, all while James remained in the background, clutching at his head as he slumped forward on the sofa, “THIS IS WHAT I MEANT! IF YOU HAD JUST LISTENED TO ME–” 

“I DIDN’T SAY WHAT I SAID WITHOUT REASON SIRIUS! YOU KNOW MY EXACT THOUGHTS ABOUT ALL THIS!” Remus shouts back, the veins in his neck bulging out from his fierce anger, the blood rushing in his cheeks making him look just about ready to violently explode. 

“BUT–”

“—YOU CAN’T FAULT ME FOR THAT!” Remus continues, not allowing Sirius to speak.   

“WELL YOU CAN’T FAULT ME FOR MY REASONING EITHER!”

You’re horrified at the scene. Sirius and Remus look ready to tear each other apart as James looks on hopelessly, not knowing what to do or how to diffuse the situation, completely torn between supporting one or the other. Without thinking, you rush back and skid to a stop between the two hot-blooded men. Their fuming rage was like a turbulent inferno whose flames licked viciously at your skin, ready to burn you and spread the hostility. 

“The both of you need to calm down!” you shout, pushing them away from each other and creating a safe distance between. Your tears had already run dry, replaced by the trembling terror shaking your limbs. 

“Don’t worry about us Dove,” Remus manages to voice through gritted teeth, his glowering eyes never leaving Sirius’, “you can leave and we’ll sort this out,”

“Sort this out like usual huh?—”

“—Don’t taunt me, Sirius,”

“That won’t solve anything, you idiot!” Sirius flings his arms up and James just barely manages to pull you away from being accidentally hit. Neither of the two seem to notice and James expresses his apology in lovingly nuzzling your temple, his lips puckering to kiss your skin but refraining and stepping away abruptly. You try not to feel the heartache his actions elicit in you.

“SHUT UP!” you’ve never heard Remus sound so angry and venomous before, it makes your heart stutter in fear and worry. You can’t leave now; this disagreement can’t end well without some form of intervention and James isn’t fairing too well with that – he needs someone there for him too, just to feel, somewhat, grounded through all of this, “She doesn’t have to hear all of this!”

“We wouldn’t have to be saying ‘all of this’ if you had. Just. LISTENED. TO. ME!”

“You’re being ridiculous!”

“Ridiculous?!” Sirius growls lowly, his countenance scrunching up into a foul expression —an antithesis to his elegant features, “I’ll show you!” it was then that Sirius turns to face you and approaches with purpose in his long strides, unstopping like he did earlier when outside the studio. 

“SIRIUS—!”

Sirius backs you up into the wall behind you, “—Everything Could Have Been As Easy As Doing This!” you didn’t know what to prepare yourself for but Sirius firmly gripping your chin and pulling you into a deep kiss was not one of them. In your shock, you let out a surprised but muffled moan, slowly falling into the blissful embrace and reciprocating eagerly. 

Did you faint earlier? Was this all a dream?... 

…Dream or not, you like this very much!  

James and Remus watch at the bold display, disbelief shining clear in their eyes as Sirius has his way with you. But you don’t see them, you don’t see anyone or anything, all you know is that Sirius kisses like an experienced lover from fantasy and he wasn’t shy about loving you up. Not knowing what to do with your hands, you let Sirius guide them over your head to cuff your wrists together with his large hand, his other snaking around your waist to pull you closer and deepen the kiss. 

He tastes like spearmint gum and smokey cigarette smoke, his lips tinted in cherry lip balm for sweetness. What an addictive taste. You can’t get enough. 

But air is a necessity and just as you were beginning to run out of breath, Sirius pulls away, panting heavily. He doesn’t wait for a single second to pass before diving his head into your neck, where he peppers feathery but fervid kisses along your sensitive skin and smiles to himself when you slip out a moan. You sound beautiful. He needs to hear more. Sirius doesn’t stop, he sucks and licks and kisses and nuzzles along your neck like the tease he is, drawing out every quivering whimper and pretty moan you were desperately trying to contain. 

You keep your eyes tightly shut, too embarrassed to meet the eyes of Remus or James. Their gaze on you left behind a searing, phantom mark that developed into a displeasing itch. An itch that could only be satisfied if they kissed you too.

…So selfish. God! When will you stop?!

Ashamed of your gradually increasing volume, you seal your mouth shut in a stubborn attempt to suppress your pleasure. How did his lips and tongue feel so good on your skin? His touch made your knees weak and your legs shake, without his support, you don’t think you would stay standing for long. 

Just as you were able to swallow every embarrassing sound that tried to escape, James was beside you, his warm breath on your cheek as he silently urged Sirius to give way, “you need help staying quiet, angel?” he whispers and doesn’t wait for an answer, briefly meeting your eyes before he’s closing them to kiss you sweetly. It started off sweet. Sweet and loving like James before suddenly becoming very dominating and overwhelming. You were being devoured and the thought was undeniably arousing. They were both on you, Sirius kissing away at your neck as James savoured the taste of your lips before bullying his way into your awaiting mouth. He swallowed your moans for you as Sirius defiantly persisted, urging you with seductive lips to make more.  

Overwhelmed but so content. 

You were drowning in bliss and you never wanted to break away from it. 

“DIDN’T I SAY!” Remus shouts, stopping all activity and leaving you strung up high as the boys slowly pull away, not too far but enough for all of you to meet Remus’ unreadable stare. The boys look over their shoulder to observe their commanding lover, their large frames tense before moving their eyes down and slowly smirking, the tension evaporating off their figures as you’re left to rebuild another tower of anxiety from your lower stomach, “Didn’t. I. Say. We. Were. Going. To. Savour. Her?”

What?

Your shocked, wide-eyed stare meets Remus’ cool and, almost, unfeeling gaze. Once again, your knees buckled under you and you were caught by Sirius and James. Held in place by their hot, firm hands and the press of their toned physiques. 

What did he just say?

Unable to keep his stare, your eyes slowly fall down the tall brunette’s figure. Capturing his beautiful, full lips; taking in the delicious column on his neck; observing the wide expanse of his shoulders and chest; drifting down to gulp at his veiny arms and hands before landing on... 

Oh~

A/N : no fluff, but something better right? a little sneak peak on how i write spicy things but it's readable hehe~  

NEXT. | 07 : APOLOGISE AND COMFORT →

NAVI. | HEROES IN TATTOOS MASTERLIST

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[flowerandblood]

Incomprehension (Oneshot)

[ Michael • Gavey x math student • female ]

[ warnings: stalking, angst with comfort, depression ]

[ description: Michael Gavey seems to her to be an alien from another planet, and observing him becomes her daily routine. She decides to cheer him up by secretly putting his favorite Crunchie in his backpack, but one day she is caught red-handed. Requests regarding the character stalking Michael and her comforting him after the situation with Oliver at the bar. ]

I thought I'd post this between chapters of The Fall from the Heavens because I really like it even though there is no smut in the story! This will not affect the order in which new chapters will be published.

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

My other works: Masterlist

_____

She had no idea how it really started. She had watched him for a long time, knowing only that he was the best. Even though he was a student in the same year as her, equations that took her an hour to solve, he solved in a few minutes.

He worked like a machine: when he stood in front of the big board his face was stony. Unlike her, he wasn't frightened or stressed knowing that the whole room of students was watching him – on the contrary, seeing his lips clamped into a tight line, the wrinkles of concentration on his forehead and his wide-open blue eyes, she had the feeling that he derived satisfaction from it.

He wanted his genius to be admired.

They never exchanged a word with each other – even if she had wanted to, she wouldn't have known how to begin, and seeing his outbursts and behaviour that seemed bizarre to others, to say the least, she wasn't sure it would be worth taking the risk and stepping out of the shadows.

Something about him not knowing she was watching him filled her with peace and contentment.

Her year-mate had lamented to her as they sat in the library that one of the handsome, rich boys from a good house had not responded to her greeting as she passed him in the corridor. She nodded in understanding, looking thoughtfully towards the other table.

She didn't understand why he stayed close to Oliver.

This boy seemed too frisky to her, stretched out, wanting too many things at once. He wanted to be humble and feisty at the same time, lonely and surrounded by a group of friends, appreciated and unappreciated, for someone to comfort him.

He wanted to be noticed while remaining in a state of his own uniqueness.

Unlike him, Michael was authentic.

She showed up in the places he walked because he appeared in them like clockwork. His routine became her routine, allowing her to be a passive observer of his life instead of participating in her own.

She didn't want to return her thoughts again to her body and the emptiness she felt as she lay alone at night, thinking that she hated math.

However, it was the only thing she could do well.

The logic of formulas, the certainty of the fundamental, immutable laws that ruled the solving of equations gave her a sense of security.

Words were a strange and unnatural construct to her, and while her mind was full of thoughts, they did not usually find an outlet beyond the basic phrases that allowed her to turn in the company of others.

It wasn't her nature, but her choice: it seemed to her that every time she tried to explain the state of what was happening inside her, no one could comprehend her, giving her cloying advice she hadn't asked for at all.

She wanted to hear that she didn't need to change, instead however, everyone kept telling her that she should smile more, which she did reluctantly.

Why should she smile if she wasn't happy?

Michael was her opposite, and watching him was like observing a rare animal in the zoo: he was loud and unpredictable, his remarks often lacking tact and sometimes even sense, his chin raised in the confidence that emanated from him.

He was a mean bastard and she knew it, but she couldn't hate him.

To her despair, he seemed to evoke entirely different feelings in her.

His behaviour did not repel her: on the contrary, his explosive, quirky nature aroused a kind of admiration in her, as if he were an alien from another planet, someone who did not really exist.

She watched from the sidelines as Oliver slowly began to make his choice, more and more and more allowing Felix and the rest to absorb him like a large, voracious monsters.

She wasn't sure if the look of disappointment on Michael's face when he waved at him from afar and he didn't respond was a result of his sadness or his anger at having wasted his precious time.

It seemed to her that after he started eating and sitting alone again he quietened down and fell silent, disappearing before her eyes.

One day she got the idea of cheering him up and whenever she had the chance, she would slip a small Crunchie bar into his backpack, usually when he was busy talking to someone or when he put it down on the floor and left it in the corridor while going to the toilet.

She would then sit down next to it and, watching to make sure no one saw, slip the bar into the side pocket of his backpack and return to her seat.

Only twice had she seen his reaction to finding her gift tucked in one of his pockets. He would then look around, and she would lower her gaze, pretending that she was engrossed in a textbook on quantum physics.

She would smile involuntarily when she heard the rustling of the paper after a while, and then look at his thoughtful face, his gaze directed somewhere far away as he bit into the bar as if he were eating a burger.

He was so uncouth, so bright, so unpredictable.

However, her lack of vigilance doomed her: she wanted to do what she always did when she saw that he had thrown his backpack on the ground and headed for one of the rooms, apparently to talk to their professor. As soon as she sat down next to his bag, he came out and looked at her.

She froze, feeling her heart start pounding like crazy, cold sweat running down her back.

She picked herself up and moved to flee, unable to face the shame that spread throughout her body.

"– hey – wait – fuck –" He cursed, wanting to follow her, but remembered his backpack, so retreated to pick it up.

She stepped out into the courtyard, not hearing or seeing anything, blinded by the sun, stunned by the noise in her head and the shrill conviction that some kind of veil had fallen between them.

"– are you deaf? –" She heard him behind her, his large hand grabbing her arm too aggressively and too firmly, turning her away with a sharp, impatient jerk. She stopped, looking with big eyes at his blue checked shirt.

"– do you like rummaging through other people's things? –" He sneered, frustrated and amused at the same time. She simply remained silent, staring dully at the fabric of his shirt, smelling some cheap aftershave and his own scent.

He bowed his head, apparently wanting to meet the gaze of her eyes, but when she noticed his blue irises she turned her face away, quivering in his grasp.

"– you're weird –" He decided and let go of her, stepping around her, making her lower lip start to twitch, burning tears of shame, disappointment and regret gathered under her eyelids, running down her face one by one.

She adjusted the straps of her knapsack on her back and moved ahead on trembling legs wanting to forget it had ever happened.

The next day she felt like throwing up at the thought of their lectures together and ate nothing. She rushed to the classroom at the last minute, walking straight into the room without looking at the people who were waiting for their professor in the corridor.

She sat down in one of the last rows in her seat, far to the side, almost against the wall, where she felt safe.

When she saw out of the corner of her eye his silhouette walking into the hall she froze, lowering her gaze to her fingertips, feeling an uncomfortable constriction in her stomach, trying to blend into the background and not exist.

She shuddered when she noticed that instead of taking his seat in the front row across the hall he moved towards her, walking down the row below her, sitting down opposite her. She swallowed hard when he sat sideways to her, spreading his elbows comfortably on his and her desk, leaning his back against the wall.

"– what's up, little freak? –" He asked simply, tapping his fingers against the top of her table. She looked at him with big eyes, feeling a complete emptiness in her head, having the feeling that she was hot and cold at the same time.

For some reason she wanted to cry again.

Hearing that she didn't answer him he lifted his gaze to her, twisting so that he rested his arms on her desk, correcting his glasses that had slipped off his nose with the index finger of his hand.

"– you've got me used to eating one bar every day and you didn't give me one yesterday – you've ruined my daily routine and it's very fucking annoying, you know? –" He asked with anger and some kind of expectation that completely surprised her, but what she said had nothing to do with his words.

"– I didn't look inside –" She muttered.

"– what? –"

"– I wasn't rummaging through your things –" She explained in a trembling voice feeling that for some reason her eyebrows arched in pain, warm tears one by one began to run down her cheeks again.

"– are you crying? –" He asked in disbelief, wrinkles appeared on his forehead as they always did when someone made him uncomfortable.

"– yes –"

"– because I'm talking to you? –"

"– because I'm ashamed –" She whispered and lowered her gaze, swallowing hard, feeling that it had cost her a lot of strength to choke out these few sentences.

He fell silent for a moment – other students began to sit down around them, their professor announcing that they were about to begin their lecture.

He no longer responded to her words, returning to his previous position, leaning with his back against the wall, one of his hands remaining on her desk. She watched dully as his long fingers beat rhythmically against it, repeating the same movements again and again.

As always, he didn't even open his textbook, didn't write anything down or take notes, memorising everything he heard in his head.

She couldn't afford to do that, so she wrote down meticulously everything their professor spoke about, knowing that it would be one of the topics that would appear on the exam.

As soon as their class was over, she saw his silhouette standing in front of her with the textbook in his hand, which for some reason he carried with him. She packed her bag, pretending she didn't feel his expectant gaze on her.

"I want my Crunchie." He communicated, as if giving her some irrelevant piece of information. She looked at him in disbelief, feeling her lips part involuntarily.

Was he always this cheeky and spiteful?

"Here." He said, pulling a few coins out of his pocket, far too many for one bar, placing them in front of her.

"Just bring it to me." He said impatiently and moved ahead, running down the stairs, correcting his glasses on his nose, disappearing out the door.

She didn't feel like bringing him this fucking bar, but decided she didn't have the strength to stand up to him.

That's why she went to the vending machine standing in the corridor and, using the coins he'd given her, bought him as many bars as the money he'd given her was enough for.

She found him exactly where he always was at this hour, which was in the library.

She knew that he was solving equations not because it was a challenge for him, but because he was terribly bored. She pulled her fabric knapsack off her back and opened it, placing bar after bar on the table top where he sat.

"– I wanted one – are you mad? –"

"– give yourself one each day – you know how to count – have a nice day –"

"– do you have to be so fucking rude? –" He growled with a hint of malice, from which she turned to face him, feeling that for the first time in many years she had lost her temper.

"– take a look at yourself, you spiteful, spoilt brat –" She hissed and froze, wondering how she could have said such a thing, a hot feeling of shame and horror spreading through her stomach.

He stared at her with his lips clenched, furious, his nostrils twitching in an anxious, heavy breath.

She thought he was going to say something, humiliate her again, but they just looked at each other.

"– I – I'm sorry –" She mumbled and turned away, wanting to run away, to sink into the ground, to disappear.

She was sure he would be avoiding her now, telling everyone with amusement what a fucked up and stupid person she was, that she'd stalked him and then started yelling at him in the library.

She knew he commented on various people's behaviour in this way and she was sure he wouldn't spare her.

"– hi, nasty bar slut – what's up? –" He asked, walking up to her as she stood by the notice board, causing her to completely freeze.

"– please, don't call me a nasty slut –" She mumbled, looking at him with big eyes.

He shrugged his shoulders, correcting his glasses on his nose with his index finger, his gaze fixed on the sheets of paper on which the timetables were written.

"– fine – so? –"

She didn't understand what purpose this exchange of words was supposed to serve.

"– and what are you asking? –" She asked uncertainly and he shrugged his shoulders again.

"– I don't know –"

God.

"– are you still ashamed? –"

She swallowed hard, lowering her gaze to her feet, feeling her heart in her throat.

"– yes –"

"– why? –" He asked, as if he didn't understand what her condition was caused by. "– it was pleasant – finding a candy bar in my backpack pocket every day – unexpected – like magic with this dumb tooth fairy –"

She looked at him in disbelief, feeling a strange kind of warmth and relief spread across her chest. She pressed her lips together, adjusting the knapsack on her shoulders.

"– I saw how Oliver treated you – I think I just wanted to comfort you, but I couldn't speak to you like a normal human being –" She choked out finally, feeling that embarrassing sensation of a tightening in her gut again.

He snorted, correcting his glasses on his nose again.

"– sad bullshit is for poets – isn't it? –" He scoffed, still not looking at her, a mischievous grin on his lips.

She wasn't sure she understood him correctly, but it seemed to her that he was trying to tell her that he liked what she was doing in a way.

She shrugged her shoulders.

"– words have never come easily to me, although my head is full of them –"

"– right – I don't have a problem with talking, as long as someone doesn't start tendentious stories about their deep inner life – I don't give a shit, to be honest –"

He said, still avoiding eye contact. He scratched the back of his neck and rubbed the tip of his nose with the top of his hand, doing his best to look anywhere but at her.

"– it seems to me that you don't give a shit about a lot of things –" She stated finally and it was only when he heard this sentence that he looked at her, the intensity of the blue of his irises frightened her.

"– that's true – but that's who I am – I don't pretend to be anyone, unlike those rich losers who haven't earned anything themselves –" He hissed, and she nodded in agreement.

He hummed under his breath, pleased apparently to find in her a listener who didn't question his rather subjective, and therefore, in his mind, sincere judgements.

"– and you? – why do you behave in this way? –" He asked suddenly, and she blinked, feeling her whole body tense up at the urge in some primitive desire to protect herself.

"– what do you mean? –" She asked finally.

"– that whole crying thing of yours –" He said indifferently, once again correcting his glasses with his finger on his nose.

It seemed to her that he was treating her as an equation for which he lacked data, making it impossible for him to solve, much to his natural frustration as a scientist.

She thought she understood him.

"– I don't seem to feel alive – as if I'm a camera recording everything around me – when suddenly someone speaks to me as a person who should be experiencing and thinking something, I feel ashamed, as if someone has caught me in the act –" She choked out with difficulty, thinking in disbelief, terrified, that for the first time she had expressed in words what she was feeling.

She was more afraid than ever of hearing someone's response to what she had said.

He looked at her for a moment, furrowing his brow, as if analysing in his brain the details she had just provided him with.

"– you're lonely –" He stated finally, as if he had at last found a summary of what he thought of her. She pressed her lips together at his words, embarrassed that he had hit the nail on the head.

"– yes –"

"– me too – that's no reason to cry –" He said, shrugging his shoulders, sliding his hands into his trousers in some subconscious gesture of discomfort.

She nodded at his words, feeling her heart pounding hard in her chest.

"– so –" He began, looking at his shoe as if he saw something interesting on it. "– what now? –"

She swallowed hard, raising her eyebrows in surprise.

"– what are you asking? –"

"– me and you – are we mates now? –" He asked, and she involuntarily smiled sincerely for the first time in many years, feeling some pleasant warmth ripple through her lower abdomen.

"– yes –"

[getitoutofmymindwrites]

The crushing | joel miller x f!reader, 5.2k

Summary: This is the story of a man who had everything in the palm of his hand and traded it all for an empty space in the hollow of his heart. Or This story follows Joel, two to three years after he cheated on his wife.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, ANGST, cheater!Joel, Joel's POV, this is NOT “The Falling” from Joel's POV, brief mention of smut (p i v) but nothing too graphic (I think), self-loathing, depression, therapy, flashbacks and memories from the past, alcohol consumption, Tommy being a supportive brother (eventually), as always let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Ok, so, Joel gave me a whiplash on this one, he was either staring at me through the screen giving me nothing, or he was mumbling unintelligibly in my ear while I was trying to keep up with him. It started out as a final chapter, but I really think that this part should be Joel's POV and the next and -probably- final one should be the resolving, however that may come. I guess it can be read as a standalone, but if you're interested, it's a sequel to “The Falling”. I edited it seven thousand times because I kept adding things along the way, so I hope it all makes some sense and there are not too many mistakes.. Thank you for taking the time to read anything I write! Love you all! 🥰😘

P.S.: I just wanted to take a moment and let you know that I really appreciate everyone who has read, liked, commented, reblogged and asked about “The Falling”. I honestly didn't think a single soul would take the time to read that kind of story. It means more than you know and I didn’t take lightly how close to home this fic hit for some people; yet you’ve given it a chance, sharing some of your own experiences with me. I love you all, take care and I'll see you -hopefully- in the comments! 🥹🫂

Dividers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics

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...need your reassurance...

...your only focus…

...for the foreseeable future...

He did make it his sole focus. Because of course, he closed the deal, even after he left that damn table like a madman. He still found a way to get what he wanted. That's the man he was. And he wasn't sure if he hated himself for it or not. But self-loathing was a daily occurrence now, so one more reason added to the list was nothing he couldn't handle.

For two years he would wake up every day, is it called waking up if he doesn’t sleep at all?, he would work his ass off, he would go home, he would sink into despair and then he would start all over again the next day. A vicious cycle consisting of 730 days in a row. The deafening silence within the walls of the house was excruciating, the loneliness was unbearable. Even the light penetrating through the windows seemed different than when you were there with him, a dullness surrounding every corner of the now barely lived in space.

You. He hadn’t seen your face in 730 days. He hadn’t smelled your scent or touched your soft skin. He barely listened to your voice anymore, any form of unavoidable communication, you preferred to be conducted by the lawyers, or via text messages, at the most. At the 731st one, he finally knew, something had to change. He couldn’t repeat another day, like all the others that came and went. He simply couldn’t.

Tommy suggested that therapy might help Joel, a few times, but he refused every one of them. Maria was keeping her distance, her place was delicate, being his brother’s wife but also his wife’s best friend. Surprisingly, she was the one who finally got through to him.

“Are you gonna stay a recluse for the rest of your miserable life, then?” Maria wonders, switching her gaze between Joel and the dining room. Everything was untouched, as you left them when you moved out, but the place felt empty, depressing, probably mirroring Joel’s existence.

Joel sighs, closing his eyes briefly. “I’m not a recluse..”, he snarls through his teeth, rolling his eyes at her. He was more than eager to be done with the dinner his sister-in-law insisted on having in his house and be left alone, in his natural state. Alone. Infuriating woman.

“What do you call that?”, Maria persists, goddamn lawyer to the bone.

“What?!” Joel spits back pissed off, looking at his brother next, for support.

“That!” she gestures around his body and his surroundings. “The way you go on for the past two years! Either get over it or do something about it!”, she doesn’t hold back, even when Tommy proposes a gentler approach. Yeah, look where it got you, is the paid answer, so Tommy steps back, shaking his head and raising his hands up in surrender.

“You’ve got him on a leash, hm?”, Joel jokes absentmindedly, “Can you breathe alright, Tommy boy?”, earning himself a hard glare from Maria.

“Maybe the wrong Miller is on a leash..” Maria mutters, causing Tommy’s eyes to widen in horror.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”, Joel retorts doing a double back at her.

“Means that freedom is for those who can bear it.”, Maria throws her napkin on her plate and leaves the room. Joel remains silent, pondering the meaning of her words. It would be a long time before he understood what she meant.

Therapy was hard.

Therapy was hard because he had to do it for himself. He had to concentrate on himself. He thought, being the contractor that he was, that he would walk into the room, get the answers he needed and fix his marriage, just as he rearranged the bricks and the wood and the steel on the construction sites.

But this wasn’t about his marriage. His marriage and the way it crumbled down was the aftermath, he came to learn. It was the outcome of insecurities, selfishness, lack of communication, ungratefulness.

He got it all wrong. Everything. Every little thing. He had to rewire his brain and change every point of view he was holding onto. Honesty. Honesty was the key.

“Why didn’t you reach out to your wife after that night?”, his therapist insists.

“I respected her boundaries.”, Joel was quick to respond.

“And what were those?”

“She didn’t want to see me.”

“Did she say that?”

“No-, I mean-, the way she left that night, she didn’t say much in general. But she blocked my number, so.”, he shrugs in defence.

“So, how can you be so sure that she didn't want to see you? Even if you're right, it doesn't mean that she didn't expect a reaction from you, or that you weren't allowed to try, if that’s what you wanted.”

“Why would she? I upset her, she needed time to think, work things out.”, Joel explains.

The therapist swipes her fingers over her lips, contemplating her approach. “Joel, you walk into your bedroom, into what is supposed to be a safe place and you see your partner with another person in an intimate moment. How does that make you feel? Just say the first words that come to mind.”, his therapist changes the point of view.

Joel shudders just at the thought of it. You, naked, flushed, lips parted and swollen, skin sweaty, breaths short and pupils blown wide, coming for anyone other than him. It would utterly destroy him. “Furious, pissed, betrayed, heartbroken.. I think I would lose it, if I’m honest.” he admits instantly, in his haste to throw the abomination of this image from his thoughts.

“I see. But in her case, you think your wife was just upset?”

“No, of course not.” Joel slightly frowns, shaking his head.

“Do you think she felt all those feelings that you just described to me?”

“I believe so, yes.”, god this is so hard.

“You believe so?” the therapist pushes, again.

Joel’s nostrils flare from the sharp inhale, “I know so.”

“So, she wasn’t just upset.” the therapist concludes and Joel agrees without meeting her eyes, “No, she wasn’t.”

Over time, Joel came to realize that his choice of words was a subconscious attempt to diminish the seriousness of his actions.

“You said in a previous session that you gave space to your wife to work things out.”

“Yeah, it was only fair.”, Joel confirms.

“So, it was hard for you to give her that space?”

“Yes, of course, I missed her every day.”

“Was that a constant in your relationship?”, the therapist wonders.

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

“How did you work things out as a couple, before? I assume you had difficult times as partners, no?”

“Nothing major to be honest, my wife was a very calm and reasonable person. If anything occurred she would talk to me about it.”

“And how did you respond to that?”

“Uh, I was there to listen, we always found a solution together as a couple.”

“Hmhm, so, what changed this time?”

“What do you mean?” He knew exactly what she meant.

“Why didn’t you talk to her? Communicate with her? Maybe help her see your side of things, like you did before, find your way out of this together, as partners.” his therapist explains. “And even before the infidelity, did you let her know that something was bothering you, that you felt differently?”

"I didn't feel differently about my wife. My feelings for her never changed.", he immediately corrects her. "My love for her was never the problem," he confesses and it's the first time since his therapy began that he's shared something so personal, so private.

“But there was a problem, something was wrong if you felt the need to be intimate with another woman. So, why did you keep that from her?”

Joel opens his mouth already knowing he does not have an answer. Or that he doesn't want to give one. He shakes his head, raising his brows in a silent admission that he can’t answer that. Or he won't. His gaze is fixed on a loose thread on the fabric of the couch, his fingers keep picking on it.

“Joel?”

“I- I don’t know what you want me to say, I don’t know.” he keeps shaking his head. He can’t answer that. He won't.

He was so angry when he left the session that day. He was so angry at you. He was angry at your honesty, your clarity, your courage to have a mind of your own and to speak it freely, knowing full well that probably no one else shared the same opinions as you did. That's what he loved most about you, but now he hated it.

“Own it, Joel. Own what you have done. At least that way it will be worth something. Otherwise it was all for nothing.”

This was one of the last things you said to him on the phone, while he was trying to persuade you to change your mind about the divorce. You were always so brave about those matters. Matters of the heart, of integrity. He remembers you always talking about things that he found admirable but utopian. Easy in theory, hard in practice.

“I need to be able to sleep at night. I need to own my decisions; not because I’m always right, far from it, but at least I know I’m being honest with myself. And that matters.” he recalls one of your late-night talks.

You usually found it easier to share your most vulnerable thoughts once you were thoroughly fucked and satiated. When Joel held you in his arms, your breaths almost shared over the same pillow, your scents and your fluids mixed together.

“We’re all imperfect beings, flawed; we all feel embarrassed when we fuck up,” you continue, “it’s hard to admit our mistakes to others, I get that. But deep down we always know what we’re doing and why we’re doing it. Admitting it only helps us to be present in our lives.”

“Be present?”, Joel seems fascinated by the way your mind weaves your thoughts together into deeply rooted beliefs.

“Yes, my love, there's no greater freedom than to live your life truthfully.” you smile at him, softly. Your sleepy eyes roam his face affectionately. Your fingertips caress his jawline, your thumb pressing lightly against the bare patch of his beard. He can feel your devotion pouring from your fingers and sinking into his skin at that moment.

“That’s one of my greatest fears, you know. Living my life in ignorance, in a lie.”, you whisper your deepest insecurity against his soft lips. His hold on you tightens as he rolls you onto your back, nestling his hips between your welcoming thighs. You are safe in these arms. His arms. You surrender to him, body and soul. You can feel his growing erection pressing between your folds, already wet from your combined releases. He tenderly brushes his lips against yours and slowly licks his way into your parted mouth, as he intertwines his fingers with yours. He enters you in one fluid, slow thrust, his warm exhale cooling your wet lips. “Then let me give you something real.”

Thinking back to those moments, Joel couldn't reconcile himself to the fact that he was the one who had brought that fear of yours to life. What broke him was that it was not a lie. Your life together had not been a lie. He loved you. In fact, he was burning up for you. He was a man of control, but not with you. Never with you. You consumed his every thought; being around you for too long made his lungs constrict in pain, begging for a deep breath. Sometimes he was worried sick that if he completely let himself love you like he needed to, he would suffocate you. He loved you. And it killed him that his actions suggested otherwise.

But at some point he had to be honest with himself. He was just protecting his ego. He was trying to get the upper hand out of a shitty, compromising situation. He wasn't being thoughtful, he was being selfish. He was biding his time. He thought the longer he left ‘it’ untouched, the less it would hurt when the inevitable time of confrontation came. He was scared out of his mind that he would lose you forever. No second chances, no redemption, no reconciliation.

No lingering scent on his pillow as your hair pools there, under his chin, as you nestle your face between his neck and shoulder, breathing him in. No laughter through the enormous house, damn, why did he build it so big; you never clarified what the disbelief in your eyes meant when he said he built this house for you, while he pulls you up on your feet for a silly cowboy dance.

No more gentle touches, no more noses brushing together as a silent goodbye in the kitchen before you rush off to work. No more turning around just before you open the door to leave, running to him like a little girl, giving him quick, hungry pecks on the lips while he laughs on your mouth, squeezes your butt cheek and slaps it playfully to say goodbye. Later, baby, he would promise you, his teeth nipping at your earlobe and he could feel your skin crawling with anticipation.

No more I love yous, either breathed, either whispered, either panted, as he makes a home for himself inside your warmth.

When did he fuck you last? He used to have you every day. You craved it every day. You craved him. Why did he stop telling you he loved you every chance he got? When was the last time you said it?

A week before that fateful night, when you touched him longingly, aching for him to touch you back and he told you he had work to do, he wasn’t a teenager anymore. Why the hell did he say that? Why did he sit there and watch the light fading from your eyes? I love you, you said with a sigh against his temple and walked out of his office defeated. Why did you say that? Did you know? Did you suspect? Why didn’t you fight him? You should have said something, anything, pushed him, punched him in the chest, woken him up. Would he have woken up? Or did he need that to come to his senses? Does he have to fall? Does this falling ever stop? Does he have to let you go? Will you come back to him? Does he deserve you?

Days blurred seamlessly into one another. Joel drifted further and further away from everyone. The house haunted him, all the progress he was making within the therapy walls was dissipating once he stepped inside the cold space of his empty house. Leaving the confines of it was his first thought in the morning, while he hurriedly dressed to go to his office far earlier than necessary and his last when he closed his eyes, as he laid his weary limbs on the couch, chasing still your now long gone scent on its fabric, knowing another sleepless night was his only companion until the first rays of sunlight hit the floor-to-ceiling windows to announce the beginning of another day.

People at work tiptoed around him, not knowing how to act. It was as if he was there, but not really. He was focused solely on the Marks project, mechanically going through board meetings, paperwork and supervising the construction site. He. Just. Wasn’t. There.

Joel, will you please sign the papers?

He simply stares at the text message for a good full minute, his thumbs hovering over the screen of his phone. This was one of the rare occasions you had initiated communication with him, always about the progress of the divorce.

No, no, I won’t, the little toddler in him screams, stamping his little feet on the ground.

The papers are not ready.

Joel texts back. He keeps it simple, frightened he might not get an answer back.

Joel, we both know they are. I don’t want any of your assets or your money; this is an easy signature, please.

An easy signature? You think he cares about the houses, or the cars, or the money?

You know I can’t accept that. The house is yours and so is a good part of the money.

The point was to share this house together, Joel, don’t you think us splitting up kind of defeats the purpose? And what on earth makes you think I would ever want to go back in there?

So, there’s nothing I can do to make this easier for you?

Easier? You think money or property can make up for what you’ve done?

Of course not, I wasn’t implying anything like that. Just wanna do something for you, anything.

Can you turn back time?

Of course, he can't. So, he doesn't know what to say to that. He just keeps staring at the screen, lost in thought. After 2 minutes another text follows.

?

You know I can’t..

Sign the papers. Please.

“Is there anything in particular you want to talk about today, or should I take the lead?”

“Actually I’ve been thinking a lot about that night.”, Joel suggests for the first time. He usually lets the therapist decide where to steer the conversation, then simply refuses to elaborate until he feels ready to talk.

“What about it?”, he shifts his gaze from the window to the direction of her voice.

“I should probably rephrase that. I’m always thinking about that night, repeating it in my head again and again and I’m troubled by something I realized.”

His therapist nods to signal that she's listening.

“Why did she just leave? The more I think about it, the more it doesn’t make sense to me. She just left. No shouting, no breaking things, no attacking either me or-”, her. “Why she didn’t stay? Why she didn’t insist that I leave? She was just- so quiet.”

The therapist smiles in recognition of Joel's near breakthrough. They were beginning to get somewhere, his empathy nudging him under the surface.

“I'm really glad you mentioned that, Joel, so I'd like to take you back to that night and try to understand what might have been going through your wife's mind at that moment," she explains.

“So, she walks into the house, finds her safe space violated by her husband, and she chooses to handle the situation calmly and quietly-” Joel tries to stop her, but she already knows what he's going to ask. “I can't tell you why she chose that path, that's for her to answer, only she knows why.” His therapist continues, “She is making one request of you and one request only, can you tell me what it is?”

“She asked me to leave the house.”

“Hmhm.” the therapist looks at him expectantly.

“I just wanted to talk to her.”, Joel elaborates, “I thought that if I refused to leave, she would accept to listen to me.”

“So you forced your needs on her, while she was in a particularly fragile state of mind.”

“I should have made my intentions clearer, you mean?”

“I mean, that maybe you shouldn’t have had any expectations in the first place. Why do you think was so important to you, to explain yourself right at that moment?”

“Because I knew it was probably the last time I would see her for a while, I just wanted to ease her pain, why is that so wrong? Should I be indifferent? Would that be better?”

“Did it ever occur to you that you might be depriving her of her right to choose?” Come on, Joel, break some eggs.

Joel now begins to make connections. He rubs his hand over his face, the realization of what has really happened crushing him. “Oh, god, I-” He's been so selfish from the start. He hasn't shown you any respect, not even at this delicate moment. He didn't give you a choice as to whether you wanted to listen to him or not. He didn't even let you choose where you wanted to stay. He just made you leave the house. Did he make you believe he wanted you to leave? That he wanted her to stay? Because he didn’t. Fuck. “-I never thought about it like that.”

Fuck.

How could he be so blind? Why was he so blind?

His therapist insisted on it. Because no matter how much progress Joel made over the course of a year, he never revealed the true reason behind his infidelity.

“Joel, we’ve talked about a lot of things; you’ve tried really hard to make this all about your wife and about understanding what she was feeling and how your actions have affected her, but as I keep reminding you”, she smiles understandingly, “you’re the one in therapy, you need to heal your wounds before you even attempt to heal hers. And although it is in fact a really noble thought, this” she gestures between them, “can only work if you do it for yourself. I know it may sound selfish, but I promise you, it is not. It is the exact opposite.”

Fuck.

“Yeah?”, his voice hoarse from sleep as he answers the door after the insistent knock at it. Tommy looks at him surprised once he opens it, “You’re sleeping, already?”. No, he wasn’t. He wouldn’t call it that. But when he goes almost a week without any proper rest, passing out is the right word for what he’s doing. “Yeah, I guess I dosed off..” Joel lies. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.” Tommy responds as he squeezes himself through the door to enter the house. “Yeah, sure, come on in.”, Joel mutters under his breath. “You just saw me at work this morning, is everything all right?”

“I just came to check on you.” Tommy confesses uncomfortably.

“You could have called.”

“Would you have answered?” Tommy deadpans.

Touché.

“Tell Maria I’m fine, Tommy, no need to worry about me; go spend the night where it counts.”, Joel replies in an attempt to push him away, as he walks farther into the house, rounding the kitchen island.

“Hey, brother, I’m here, I am here for you.” Tommy’s eyes narrow in pain and concern as he stares at his sibling's back, following behind him.

Joel exhales hard through his nose, his grip tight as he grabs the edges of the counter, his head lowering between his shoulder blades.

“You shouldn’t, nobody should.” Joel sighs, rubbing the pads of his fingers across his forehead.

“Ok, that’s enough.” Tommy snaps at him. “Enough self-loathing, enough resignation. Enough. You’ve punished yourself enough.”

Joel laughs at that. “Is that right? Is it enough for you? What about her?” he asks, his head turned to the side, looking at his brother over his shoulder.

“What?” Tommy is genuinely confused.

Joel turns his back, resting his waist on the edge of the counter, now looking straight at Tommy. “I should have what? Just get on with my life? Let it all be water under the bridge? Disrespect her even more?”

“Jesus..” Tommy mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand, the other resting on his hip, his eyes shut in frustration.

“Are you doing this for her? Does she even know that?”

“It doesn’t matter, Tommy!” Joel raises his voice, exasperated. “I’m not doing this for her, I’m not doing anything for her, apparently and that’s the problem.”, his voice breaks, the lump in his throat too big to push down. “She’s not here anymore, Tommy.” he’s standing fully on his feet now, pushing himself away from the counter, leaning slightly forward, like he’s trying to make his brother understand; his eyes are glazed, Tommy had never seen him so devastated before. “She’s gone. I’ve lost her.”, his palms clenched in fists in front of his chest, resisting the urge to wrap them around his shirt and rip it to shreds, as he wants to do with his heart.

“I thought therapy was working..” Tommy whispers, his eyes dropping to the floor beneath him.

“Oh, it’s working, all right!” Joel chuckles in irony, sniffing his nose. “I’m getting a front-row seat, witnessing what a piece of shit I am-”

“Hey!” Tommy tries to cut him off.

“-what on earth was she doing with me to begin with, is beyond me.”

“HEY!” Tommy's eyes bulge out of his sockets, angry at his brother's self-deprecating words. Joel bends his waist forward, puts his elbows on the island in front of him and lets his head sink in again.

“Ok.” Tommy breathes deeply to ground himself, his hands in a position of a prayer in front of his mouth, “Ok, we could both use a drink.” he realizes, as he moves to open the cupboard to grab two tumblers and the whiskey from the shelf with the drinks. “..or five.”

The two brothers drink their first round in silence, both calming their nerves down. Tommy refills their glasses without asking; he knows this is going to be a long night.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” Tommy begins, pushing Joel’s drink back towards him. Joel wringles his brows in confusion, “What are you talking about? You’re always there for me.”

“No, I haven’t, not really.” Tommy admits, “I let Maria take over when all this happened and I’m sorry.”

“There was nothing you could do, Tommy, don’t sweat it.”

“Let me say this, please.” Tommy raises his hand, his palm facing his brother. “I was just- fuck, we all knew how much you loved her, how much you loved each other, so when it all went down, I just didn’t know how to deal with it. What to say to you, how to comfort you. I didn't know how to deal with you.”

“You blamed me.” Joel says matter-of-factly.

“No-”, Tommy weakly refuses but Joel shakes his head dismissively, interrupting him. “It’s ok, Tommy, you should.”

Tommy looks embarrassed, his cheeks slightly pinkish, not only from the whiskey. “It’s just that I- I couldn’t reconcile the image of the man you were with her, with.. you know..”, he stutters.

“..the image of a cheater. Say it.” Joel adds.

Tommy shakes his head, like he still can't believe what's happened. “Besides, while she was staying with us those first few weeks I saw how devastated she was, man- she was a shell of a woman, so I was confused, I didn’t know how-”

“Tommy. Tommy, it’s fine.” Joel feels his skin crawl visualizing you like that in his head, cutting his brother off once again; he deserves every ounce of mistrust and he knows it.

“No, it’s not.” Tommy insists. “Yes, you fucked up. Brother, you really did. You did a number on her-”, Joel’s body tenses instantly at his brother’s words, his jaw clenching as his eyes darken, moving down to his hands, his grip on the tumbler tightening, his knuckles turning white and Tommy stops abruptly, “shit, sorry, I didn’t mean-”, his face twitches with regret.

“It’s the truth. That’s exactly what I did.” Joel’s gaze seems detached as if he's somewhere else right now.

“What I meant to say, is that I should have been there for you in spite of what has happened. I can see you're suffering, it's taking its toll on you, it has been for some time now; tell me what I can do. How can I help you?” Tommy seems almost desperate, like he’s the one in need of redemption.

Your text flashes through his mind, can you turn back time?, making him smile bitterly.

“Can you turn back time?” Joel's repeating your question and as the words leave his mouth he can feel your presence next to him. That's the most he felt of you for the last three years. He's almost blissful.

“You know I can't.” Tommy sighs. Joel laughs earnestly, the irony of the moment too good not to appreciate.

“Joel, brother, please, just talk to me. Help me understand. You act like you’re the one who’s been cheated on. So, what happened? Why did you do it?” Tommy is pleading with him to give him anything.

Silence fills the room for much longer than either of them would like. Joel feels torn between telling his brother everything or keeping his mouth shut. He wants to tell him, he hasn’t told a soul, but he’s not sure he can get the words out. He’s not sure he can bear to hear the words coming out of his mouth. He’s not sure he can substantiate it, make it real. Because that’s how it feels. He talks about it and it becomes real.

But maybe this is the right thing to do. That’s what needs to be done. He needs to talk about it. He needs to tell the truth and admit the pain he’s caused. Make it real for you, too. Perhaps it is time for him to give you what is rightfully yours. Acknowledgment.

Joel’s made up his mind. He’s gonna talk to Tommy. He lifts his glass to down his drink for some liquid courage, freezing his hand in mid-air as the next words fall from his brother’s mouth. “First of all, who was it?”

“What?” Joel's eyes search Tommy’s through his glass for an explanation.

“Who did you do?”, Tommy clarifies.

Joel feels like he’s been struck by lightning. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Who did you fuck, Joel?”, Tommy begins to feel confused, are they not on the same page here?

“You don’t know?”, Joel can barely speak now, his voice low in shock.

“No one does, not even Maria; she never told anyone.”

You told nobody? Not even your best friend? Why on earth would you do that? Did you feel ashamed? Was it just too much to talk about?

But his brain takes pity on him, helping him for once to understand. He’s connecting the dots while your voice fills the corners of his mind through his memories. His head is swarming with images of you standing in that walk-in closet, remembering what you said the last time he saw you. You’re the one I married, not her. I expected better from you, Joel, not her.

You were right.

It didn’t matter who it was. That is why. He was the one making the choice. He was the one breaking his promises, breaking your trust, breaking your heart; breaking you. He was the one who should have known better. He was the one who should have been honest. Easy in theory, hard in practice.

He feels a fresh wave of pain scattering through his body. He welcomes it. Damn, he’s craving it. He’s glad you chose to withhold the identity of the woman. Not because somehow it’s making it easier for him to defend himself, on the contrary.

There’s no one else to blame. Nobody. Just him. All of the anger, the resentment, the disappointment, all of them on him. He embraces them all. Everything. He will take it all, swallow it down and let it rot inside of him.

Joel tells Tommy everything. Everything, but her name.

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Taglist: @southernbe, @orcasoul, @auteurdelabre

[nineblooddances-if]

NINE BLOOD DANCES

Nine Moons for the Nine Circles of Hell

Ruled by Nine Siblings. Or better known as the Commanders of Hell. Each believed to carry a role in the natural world and each a leader of the Devil’s Army. Each Commander is the personification of their circle and is made with a part of The Devil’s Body.

His Brain. His Genitals. His Stomachs. His Lungs. His Eyes. His Tongues. His Flesh. His Ears. And lastly his heart.

With each part, combined with that of a woman of a different species, flourished the consciousness of the circle, and then from a piece of the circle, a body was molded, creating each commander.

Yet with no one to rule over them.

For the Devil has many things to do and does not have the time to watch over the things he created. So, he gets an idea. A funny idea.

For he wishes not to strip himself of more. So, he goes to a mortal man. One who knew all that of the world, a man who had everything that the mortal heart could desire. Expect love–Yes love. For there is a difference between idolization and obsession and honest love. The mortal man had not that, and so the Devil laughed and lured this man to his death. And when no one showed genuine care for the man at his funeral, he fell into despair.

And the Gods who refused to hear his prayers before now stared upon him and pitied him. And sent the mortal man a gift in order to ease the loneliness.

A gift the Devil needs.

── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──

✶ [DEMO]

✶ [PATREON]

✶ [KO-FI]

✶ [DISCORD]

── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You were a gift. Now to whom? No one knows.

All that matters is that you are a gift and not like any of the others of your species. Uniqueness and importance oozes from every fiber of your being. You're important. Everyone says you're important. But why you're so important?

Who knows?

You must figure out what makes you so special and different. You must figure out what drives you through all circles. And you have to figure out why the nine commanders of Hell all have their eyes upon you and wish to have you by their side.

All before the fall of the ninth moon.

☽☽✶☾☾ Customizable MC

✶ [Name, Species(human, fallen angel, vampire, succubus/incubus, etc), Personality, Gender, Pronouns] ✶ [Appearance (markings, scars, wings, tails, horns, ears, etc), Traits, Love Language, Allergies, Diet, Piercings, Aesthetics, and more]

☽☽✶☾☾ Ability to have certain traits, likes, and disabilities

✶[Favorite Foods, Smoking/Drinking Habits, & More] ✶[ADHD, OCD, Depression + more] ✶[Hearing Aids, Prosthetic Arms or Legs, and choosing how you lost your limb]

☽☽✶☾☾ Options that have an effect on romantic and platonic relationships.

☽☽✶☾☾ Choose between nine romanceable Love Interests or None at All.

☽☽✶☾☾ Stats, Personality, and MC Characteristics that will affect the story and characters.

[Harem Route & Poly Routes Optional]

| IMPORTANT VIEWINGS OF CERTAIN FEATURES | ✶Ear Piercings

PERSONIFICATION OF THE 1ST CIRCLE—LIMBO—

COMMANDER AAPO I LIBERTAS

── THAT OF THE DEVIL’S BRAIN

✶ Personality: Aapo is an overly confident, charismatic man who is proud of the ranking he holds, being that he is ranked above his siblings and seen as the current ruler of the Nine Circles. Aapo walks and talks with a smile on his face and radiates this atmosphere of freedom, which is quickly erased by this underlying need for control, and he demands it. He has no reservations to confirm that. Many fear him despite his faux cheery attitude and overly relaxed posture.

✶ Appearance: He stands at [6’1FT ~ 188CM] with pale brown colored skin that is littered with warm brown freckles. He had deep-set shaped eyes while his eyes were the darker color shades of the rainbow, that fluctuated depending upon mood but remained a deep emerald green. He has short mahogany brown hair with a short fringe that seems messy. He’s lean and long, with long legs and arms. Always wearing overly vibrant and eccentric suits of greens and browns, decorated with bronze and gold.

──"CAMBION"—AMAB—HE/HIM ──PANSEXUAL [MASC PREFRENCE]

── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──

PERSONIFICATION OF THE 2ND CIRCLE—LUST—

COMMANDER ANIL/AIDEN II LUXURIA

── THAT OF THE DEVIL'S GENITALS

✶ Personality: Anil is a self-assured, arrogant, aloof, hotheaded woman. Always wearing a scowl or frown of some sort. Her mood changes just as quickly as the wind and follows that of the hierarchy. She demands respect and will expect it. Many of the others stay out of her way and allow her to do as she pleases, since she has no desire to disrupt anything and follow the rules in place. Unless they get in the way of her desires.

✶ Appearance: She stands at [6’2FT ~ 192CM] with deep chocolate brown skin with no blemishes or scars. She has bedroom eyes that are a deep navy blue but appear black until in candlelight. Anil’s hair is jet black hair reaches her waist and is curly, while wet it reverts into a more coily texture. She has long legs and a waist and adds to her height by wearing dark blacks and blues, wearing heels, with a subtle male pirate aesthetic, wearing silver with everything. With the remains of two torn leather wings upon her back, with a long and heavy black scaled tail of a crocodile.

──"INCUBUS/SUCCUBUS"—AFAB—HE/SHE ──OMNISEXUAL

── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──

PERSONIFICATION OF THE 3RD CIRCLE—GLUTTONY—

COMMANDER ALICE III GULA

──THAT OF THE DEVILS STOMACH

✶ Personality: Alice of the three siblings is by far the kindest of them. With a laid-back attitude. She is blunt but kind in her words, and the most approachable. She, just like her Aapo and Anil, expects respect due to her rank, though she cares little about enforcing it, especially with her "siblings". However, she has a mean streak when hungry and can become aggressive toward those who are men or those masculine in nature.

✶ Appearance: She stands at [5’7FT ~ 175CM] with warm ivory-colored skin, that’s covered in what looks to be scars, that are prominent on her throat, the back of her hands, her palms, and her knees which are small scars, while the entire along her collarbone, slanting cut across her entire stomach, and along the outside of both thighs seem like bigger scars, but they’re not. They are instead different mouths with sharklike teeth and crimson red tongues. That she keeps closed unless extremely hungry. Alice also has yellowish blonde hair that is a messy pixie cut, with an eye patch covering her right eye. She always has deep monolid-shaped eyes that are a vivid orange color. She has a sheer clothing aesthetic as while as a leather aesthetic, wearing many shades of orange, black, and white with gold. Accompanied by the small horns of a deer, a shade of white, and the tail of a deer.

──"VAMPIRE"—AFAB—SHE/HER ──BISEXUAL [FEM PREFRENCE]

── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──

PERSONIFICATION OF THE 4TH CIRCLE–GREED—

COMMANDER ERIC/EDWARD IV AVARITIA

── THAT OF THE DEVIL'S LUNGS

✶ Personality: Eric is the quietest of the siblings, rarely speaking unless directly spoken to. He is a loner and prefers to be alone. He is also one of the only siblings who dislikes the hierarchy of siblings, and rarely spends his time commanding his circle, opting to be away, spending his time exploring the other parts and various layers of Hell and the unique punishments.

✶ Appearance: Eric stands at [6’5FT ~ 200CM] with pale skin. With the rest of his features hidden beneath a black cloth that hides his eyes. His black cloth also replicates bandages that covered various parts of his arms and legs. He has shoulder-length curly black hair that he keeps in a ponytail. He has a Dark Victorian aesthetic wearing black, red, and yellow.

──"DHAMPIR"—AMAB/AFAB—HE/HIM/SHE/HER/IT/ITS ──GRAYROMANTIC—PANSEXUAL

── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──

PERSONIFICATION OF THE 5TH CIRCLE—WRATH—

COMMANDER LOUIS V IRA

── THAT OF THE DEVILS EYES

✶ Personality: Louis is a confident, arrogant, egotistical, smart man. Who revels in his circle enjoys using his influence on lower-ranked demons and enjoys spending time with higher-ranked demons. He also throws extravagant parties and chooses to spend most of his time with the Devil, who is the embodiment/avatar of Wrath. Louis tends to his duties well, despite his nasty temper.

✶ Appearance: He stands at [5’7FT ~ 175CM] with limestone-covered skin round bright blue and red heterochromic eyes and short blonde hair that fades into red that cut like a jellyfish. He dresses like that of kings and queens, with a 16th-century royalty aesthetic, wearing that of gold and red. He also has the horns of a ram that are a beautiful gold.

──"HUMAN"—AMAB—HE/THEY ──DEMISEXUAL

── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──

PERSONIFICATION OF THE 6TH CIRCLE—HERESY—

COMMANDER GABRIEL VI MENDAX

── THAT OF THE DEVILS TONGUE

✶ Personality: Gabriel is someone who speaks only of rumors and half-truths. Many don't trust a word he says, and you must force the truth out of it. He gets a lot of humor leading people astray with his words. Even though he is quite knowledgeable and level-headed. He prefers to use his wisdom in more trickster ways, unless threatened, he quickly breaks. Outside of his lies, he is quite kind and fair, yet due to his tongue, no one believes his kindness.

✶ Appearance: He stands at [5’9FT ~ 180CM] with bronze-colored skin and long straight dark brown hair that he keeps in a thick braid, decorated with purple snapdragons, lavender, and vines. Gabriel has a soft flowy cottagecore aesthetic wearing colors of white and purple. While upon his back he has two large gray feathered wings that he keeps tucked away.

──"FALLEN ANGEL"—AMAB—HE/SHE ──AUTOSEXUAL

── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──

PERSONIFICATION OF THE 7TH CIRCLE—VIOLENCE—

COMMANDER DAMEION VII VIOLENTI

──THAT OF THE DEVILS FLESH

✶ Personality: Dameion is laid back, mischievous, charismatic, and cocky. Since he has one of the most popular circles, he garters high respect despite being the seventh. He has overbearing pride and follows the hierarchy of the circles. Still, you will not find Dameion without a cocky smile and relaxed posture no matter where he is. Which leads him to having and being loved by many. Everyone practically swoons when he walks into the room or speaks. This doubles when amongst full-blooded bloodhounds, due to him being able to have a body, unlike them.

✶ Appearance: He stands at [5’9FT ~ 180CM] with honey-colored skin with black armband tattoos upon his wrists and ankles. He has short, shaggy black hair and deep red eyes. With a formal aesthetic, always wearing suits or a more military-type aesthetic. He has two long black tails of a wolf and wolf ears that hide amongst his hair with two red horns of a bison.

──"BLOODHOUND"—AMAB—HE/HIM ──POLYSEXUAL

── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──

PERSONIFICATION OF THE 8TH CIRCLE—FRAUD—

COMMANDER LUCY OR LUCIUS VIII FICTUS

──THAT OF THE DEVILS EARS

✶ Personality: They are an untrusted liar, fake, fraud. Dawning on various masks and looking to deceive whoever they need to deceive. Taking upon titles, achievements, and anything to further their lie, and when it all backfires, they run away and never get caught. Due to this, they are never in hell, nor in their circle, in fact, it's hard to get in touch with them. They also spend a lot of time within the different underworlds and heavens, trying to gain something from the divine. Only to be sent back to Hell without punishment. They are tricksters and unreliable, with no real redeeming qualities.

✶ Appearance: They stand at [5’8FT ~ 178CM] with thick curly gray hair with white faded ends. Their hair is short to their chin and left alone. They have hooded gray eyes and short-bison-like horns with gray bat wings that fade into black with a long rat-like tail. They have varying styles but settle on clothing far more revealing. Wearing pinks and whites.

──"IMP"—[SELECTABLE GENDER] ──GAY OR LESBIAN [SELECTABLE SEXUALITY]

── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──

PERSONIFICATION OF THE 9TH CIRCLE—TREACHERY—

COMMANDER TRENT IX PRODITIO 

──THAT OF THE DEVILS HEART 

✶ Personality: Trent is a sweet talking and kind person. Always understand and be sympathetic. He’s easy-going and easily trusting. He’s a very honest person and falls into his roles, whilst being obedient and submissive. Not wanting to break rules without important reason. He’s a big man with an honest and open heart and tries to live past his title.  

✶ Appearance: He stands at [7’5FT ~ 230 CM] with tan scarred skin and freckles. He has large heterochromic eyes, his right olive and the left mustard yellow. He has messy brown hair that he keeps in his face, partially hiding his eyes. He bulky and tall, but always hunching over with feathered ears that are dark brown and long wispy split bird tail that is also dark brown. Trent wears many colors yet sticks to neutral tones and dark green. 

──"NEPHILIM"—AMAB/AFAB—HE/HIM  ──PANSEXUAL 

AVAILABLE POLY RELATIONSHIPS

TO BE DETERMINED

ⓒ 2023 CVLUTOSGAMES & nineblooddances-if — all rights reserved. Any sort of plagiarizing, copying, modifying, translating, editing of my works are strictly prohibited.

[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Dying Of The Supe Virus

Requested: Hi!! I wanted to request a preference for the boys + homelander reaction if R was dying from supe virus... I love your blog, thank you ♥️♥️♥️♥️ - anon

A/N: I kinda took it in two directions, either actively dying or already dead. I think some perspectives just worked better that way! I really hope you like it my love! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Butcher pretends it didn't matter to him, but he definitely blames himself. It might've been Sameer who shot you up with the virus, but it was him who put you in charge of him. It was Billy who thought to put a Supe in charge of the only thing in the world that could kill you. When Frenchie breaks the news, Kimiko carrying your body in, he feels like he's going to be sick. He was the one who was dying. It should have been him. He tries to help the team move on, focus, and orders Frenchie to extract the virus from your body, but underneath he's broken. He didn't trust or like a lot of Supes, the majority actually, but you were different. You were close, whether or not he could admit to it. There was nothing he could do to save you. He couldn't turn back time, he couldn't prevent this. He looks like he's moved on, but Butcher feels stuck in the moment, watching your face, waiting for you to laugh and tell him it was just another sick joke.

Hughie laughs. He's hysterical. The ridiculousness of it all, of the situation. You? Dead? You couldn't die. You walked away from a bullet between your eyes with a smile. You made moving on from death look easy. Effortless. He's afraid to touch you, to look at you. He truly believes, for a moment, that that's not you. Your features are bubbled and blistered, but he recognizes your hands. Hughie backs away, stifling a laugh, escaping to the bathroom where he throws up. Annie tries to go after him, but M. M. stops her. He smiles despite himself, crying and laughing, unable to control himself. He already lost his dad. He couldn't lose you, too. Like M.M. he feels like an idiot, selfish even. He never imagined a world where you could be killed. He never thought he'd have to worry about you. Now you weren't just hurt, you were dead. Murdered. He can't accept it. You didn't deserve to suffer the way you did. You didn't deserve to die. Hughie is a mix between denial and hysteria.

Annie is overwhelmed with despair and depression. You've known her since the beginning. You were the first person she ever became close to in NYC. Now you were gone. She throws herself into your funeral arrangements, practically biting the head off anyone who tries to interrupt her or make her take a break. When she's not staying up until the early morning trying to make the memorial perfect, she's sobbing behind closed doors. She tries to keep herself composed as much as possible, but everyone can see the mask slipping. Cracking. Her eyes are permanently black from mascara running. She's not eating or sleeping. When Butcher says to extract the virus from your body, she goes postal. She calls him cruel and heartless and pathetic. She can't help it. Your body is barely cold and he's still thinking about taking down Homelander. It was inhumane.

M.M. is angry. Angry at Frenchie and Kimiko (he knows it isn't fair, but he just can't help it), angry at you, and angry at himself. He got too close to you. You were a Supe, after all. The very thing he vowed to hate. And then you showed up, and he started to care about you despite himself. And now you're gone. He feels like in idiot. He thought you were bulletproof. Literally. He never once had to worry about you or think about what would happen if you passed. It never crossed his mind. He was constantly worrying and fixating on everyone else, but you would always be okay. His OCD gets so much worse in response to his grief. Everything must be done in threes. The burners, the locks, everything must be checked three times. Everyone starts to worry the more out of control his rituals become. His panic attacks, too, get worse. Less manageable. Every time he thinks about you, what happened to you, he feels like his heart will pound out of his chest.

Frenchie is deeply in denial. He was so busy bickering and then making up with Kimiko that he hadn't realized Sameer had broken free. You were the first to jump at the chance to stop him, and that's what got you killed. The needle plunged into your ankle. He couldn't stop it. He couldn't cut off your limb. Your Supe abilities didn't work like that. The blisters bubbled fast, moving up your leg to your torso, your chest. You clawed at your neck, crying out, unable to form words. Frenchie begged and prayed, but it wasn't stopping. He had to break the news about your death. He definitely blames himself. If he had been paying more attention. If he had been the one to react instead of you. Even though he watched you die, he's still in denial. He can't accept it and thinks you'll be back in no time. He gets angry when you don't call or text and is intensely lonely because he's expecting you to reach out. He just can't wrap his head around it and absolutely hates that Annie's planning your funeral. You were fine. Why did you need a funeral for someone who was perfectly fine?

Kimiko blames herself, too. If she'd been the one to get the virus, if she'd been the one injected, they could have stopped it. They could have moved on. Instead, she sat beside you, unblinking, unmoving, stroking your arm. Even as Frenchie extracts the virus from your body, your blood, she doesn't let go of you. M.M. and Annie urge her to sleep and eat (though they're both doing little of that themselves), but she can't move from you. When she does sleep, it's with her head beside you. Everyone knows you only have so much time before your body starts to decompose. They want to give her as much time as she needs, but they're also working against the clock. She definitely reacts like after Kenji was killed, crawling and hiding under tables, unresponsive with her usual kindness. She's cold, cagey, spiky. There's no reaching her when she's like this. They have to let her be. Let her grieve. Eventually she'll find her way back.

Bonus! Homelander thinks everyone's lying. Ashley breaks the news to him, petrified and sweating. Something, a virus or bug or whatever, killed you. Because The Boys still needed your body, they mailed pictures of you to the Vought Tower addressed to Ashley. He looks through them, and though she tells him they're not fake, he orders them to check again. He holds on to one, unable to look away. When they tell him that yes, definitively, they are real, he orders everyone out. He goes to his floor and destroys everything. Everything is a mess. He hasn't cried like this in years, decades even. Uncontrollable sobbing, caressing your picture. You were the only one he ever really cared about. Now you were dead because of those asssholes. He doesn't come up with a strategy or plan. He will search the entire world until he has Butchers head on a platter. Until that whole fucking group is torn limb by limb.

[writingsfrombeyondthegrave]

Helloooo there!

Just wanted to say that I absolutely loved the Astrid x ghost!reader fic and was wondering if you were considering doing a part two?? maybe Astrid finds a way to save them and they end up dating or something?

I hope you Have a lovely day! Xx

An Accidental Haunting Part 2

Astrid Deetz x Ghost!Reader

*Platonic to Romantic*

Requested by anon

Summary- Now that Astrid could see you clearly, an unlikely friendship formed. She wanted nothing more than to be with you now that you two had gotten the chance to spend more time together. She would find a way for you two to be a couple. A proper living couple.

Warnings- Reader was m*rdered, Details about death and the afterlife, angst, depression, mention of cancer, trading one life for another, kissing

The afterlife is a complex thing than many humans never truly understand. Ghosts, often thought of as a figment of the imagination or a misguided illusion of the light, were more real than Astrid had ever anticipated.

Admitting her mother wasn't crazy was a big step in her life. Not to mention the fact that she was gaining feelings for a ghost, this time while knowing about the fact you were deceased. Your morbid humor, self-deprecating jokes and obscene amount of knowledge on the paranormal had a death grip on her heart.

Death was much more interesting with Astrid in your life. You didn't feel the dread or crushing depression as much as before. Sometimes you dare say, you felt more alive than you had when you were actually living.

Lydia had decided to move back into the old "Ghost House" after Astrid had begged her, claiming that she would even consider going to Miss Shannon's School for Girls until graduation. It was only one year away, but she had been adamant about it.

In the end, it happened to be a convenient idea. Lydia's Tv show career had ended and she opted to be an in-area Psychic for those in need. Somehow, however with your meticulous hiding, she never once saw you in the house. You have been very deliberate about keeping your identity there a secret between only you and Astrid.

"I hate to say it, but that uniform is lame" You spoke as you laid back on her bed with a teasing smirk, head tilted in her direction as she tried on the uniform, smoothing down the skirt.

She turned to you and raised an eyebrow, challenging you. "At least I don't have an old rock shirt than looks like you scraped it off of an 80s arcade floor."

"Ha. Ha." you laughed emotionlessly, tossing a stuffed bear at her to defend your honor. "Arcades are fun, but nice try at trying to offend me beautiful"

The smirk that remained on your lips made her heart skip a beat, but she would rather die than tell you how much power you held over her. Your nonchalant flirting always hurt, knowing it never held much meaning behind your words, but she continued to ignore it in favor of her sanity.

"Tell me again" Astrid said as she sat beside you on the bed, making the mattress bounce lightly. "What's it like to die?"

The quietness between you both stretched for a moment before you answered. "It's different for everyone. For some its peaceful, for some its painful."

"I meant for you personally, what was it like?"

Your amused laugh echoed through her room. "What was it like to be stabbed brutally to death? Just a normal Tuesday, of course"

No matter how many times you talked to her about the afterlife, you were always careful to leave out the specifics of your own death. The last thing you ever wanted from anyone was sympathy, especially from her. Sadness should never be an emotion she felt when you were around. So, you opted to made jokes and avoided those awkward looming moments of despair and helplessness.

Instead of laughing, she seemed to be deep in thought. "What if there was a way to bring you back?" She spoke so soft that you almost missed it, but of course you didn't. Instantly you sat up on her bed and faced her properly, startling her a bit at your sudden movement.

"Are you crazy? You of all people should know that's a terrible idea, Astrid. It's a life for a life, a crazy scheme that only the self-centered scumbags would pull"

"I know... I know. But you didn't deserve to die"

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. "You don't know that. you don't know me! I'm a freak, Astrid! Thats why I'm dead, no one wanted to talk to me. Everyone feared me because the only people who understood me were already dead!" The screams you sent her way felt like daggers piercing her skin. There hadn't been a single moment up until now that you had acted any other way besides happy.

Without warning you vanished from sight, completely dematerializing Infront of her eyes. She stared in shock at the wall Infront of her, not knowing how to react.

All of a sudden it hit her, you needed her help to come back alive and she would do anything in her power to help you, even if that meant seeking out her mother for guidance.

The instant regret you felt after yelling at Astrid was eating at you from the inside out. Your knees were pulled up to your chest while you sat in a rickety old rocking chair. You looked over at the town model in the attic to distract yourself from falling even further into the darkness.

What you never mentioned to any of the spirits you helped, was that the longer the dead lingered on the living plain, the quicker your soul decays. The deceased were to move on after dying, in favor of protecting what mortality they died with. Your soul fades and your own morals that you once valued in life start to get corrupted.

"The Darkness" as you referred to it was the depressive black hole that swallows the last remaining happiness and hope that you hold onto. If you let yourself get sucked into that darkness, you may never find your way out of it again.

That is how some spirits get sucked into a loop, replaying their death and their most horrible moments over and over again until there is nothing left of their soul.

Smiling seemed to be your coping mechanism to avoid this, always happy and never upset over trivial things. Never allowing yourself the simple happiness that the living still enjoyed and took for granted.

Lydia was cooking in the kitchen when she heard rapid footsteps descending down the staircase. Astrid stopped and stood in the doorway, looking at her mother blankly for a moment. She couldn't believe how much progress that they've accomplished, yet she feared the awkward tension would always be there lingering.

"I... I need your help."

Lydia stopped what she was doing to look at her daughter in shock. "You do?" She dried her hands with the kitchen towel and quickly turned her full attention to her. "Of course, what do you need?"

"The handbook. I know you kept the one that the Maitlands had and I need to see it"

"Why would you need that?"

"I'm interested in your work" Astrid lied, forcing a small smile that she hoped was more than convincing. The smile that Lydia provided could've lit up every dark corner in the house.

After moping in your sorrows for the better part of that night, you finally appeared in Astrid's room the next morning, an apology ready on your tongue before you saw what she was doing. She was furiously flipping through The Handbook for the Recently Deceased, writing down notes in an old notebook.

You cautiously stepped up next to her and looked over her shoulder. "What could you possibly need that book for? You're not dead, babe."

She looked up at you, realizing your looming presence near her. The bags under her eyes were the only indicator that you needed to show her lack of sleep. Her body physically relaxed from its tense stance at seeing you back in her room. "I have the perfect plan on how to bring you back to life"

You groaned and flopped down into her beanbag chair dramatically. It seemed like your usual playful behavior was back at least. "Why must the living be so stubborn?"

"We are going on a trip, come on" She closed the book and tossed it in your direction, clearly expecting you to catch it. It hit the wall behind you with a heavy thud, thankfully not indenting it. You slowly turned your head to look at the book and then back to her.

"Did you really expect a different outcome?"

Astrid hugs her bag over her shoulder with the handbook in it, waiting for you to grab ahold of her so she could start her ride to the town's nursing home. After a deep sigh you hook your leg over the seat and wrap your arms around her midsection.

Your touch felt like a winter chill, but her body had never been warmer. Her heart beat quickly and she prayed you couldn't detect it. Your chin rested on her shoulder as you looked around the town.

You never were a very affectionate person in life, but for Astrid, you made an exception. There was no fear in her eyes when she looked at you now, and that made you feel as if you were finally home again.

The ride to the nursing home was quiet and quick. Astrid greeted the staff with a quick smile, claiming to be visiting her grandmother.

An argument soon broke out between the two of you as you crossed your arms, not happy by what she was proposing.

"Ms. Silvers has been in pain for years from the cancer. Death was inevitable anyway so what's the issue? She seems fine with it" She argued, and you just tilted your head, unconvinced. It was silent for a few minutes before you finally nodded your head, not being able to find a good enough argument to disagree with her plan.

Ms. Silvers was a good sport as you all headed to the cemetery together. She was a sweet old lady with a cane who seemed to be admiring the world through aged eyes.

"My husband loved this time of year" She spoke, her voice scratchy. "I just know he's been waiting for me. Thank you for this, Lovey"

Astrid smiled, walking beside her and making sure she was alright. You looked over at them, still cautious about the whole thing. Your entire life, you had never put yourself before anyone. This felt wrong, yet the old woman beside you could've been the strongest woman alive now. She had more courage than you could've imagined and you admired that.

The quiet Winter air blew past them, and she didn't so much as shiver.

After repeating the incantation in the crypt and entering, you decided it was best to lead the way. You had been to this part before when you first died. Youve come a long way and grown as a person since then. The confident look you always wore wavered slightly, but they couldn't see it since you were far ahead.

The picture for the transfer was about to be taken when Ms. Silvers reached over to give your hand a reassuring squeeze. "Young love is a powerful thing. Take care of each other, alright?"

You couldn't help the smile that overcame your features as you nodded, giving her hand a squeeze in return. "Tell your husband we said hi, would you?"

The transfer went smoothly, and you both walked her to the soul train together. Once inside the train, she sent you both a sweet smile and a wave before she departed.

Your body healed almost instantly; no indications left behind of what had happened to you. Your shirt however, still remained in shambles.

Crawling out of the crypt, you felt as if a rush of air filled your lungs. Your feet met the grass of the graveyard, and the world moved with you instead of without you. It acknowledged your presence and welcomed you with open arms.

You turned to Astrid with a bright smile. "I don't know how to thank you"

"Oh... it was nothing, really." Astrid laughed awkwardly, turning away to avoid your gaze. You looked at her as if she hung the very stars in the sky. The blood flowing through your veins and the shine of your lively skin looked heavenly to her, and she had to stop herself from staring in awe.

Without warning you cupped her face in your hands and kissed her softly, afraid that you might vanish from existence yet again. Her eyes widened in shock before she allowed herself to relax to your touch. Her hands instinctively held your hips, just barely. You pulled away after a moment and rested your forehead against hers.

"Even when I was dead and I couldn't feel anything, I swore I could feel the pounding of my dead heart as if it was beating for you. I'm afraid it will only ever beat for you now that I'm alive again"

She laughed, smiling freely as she looked into your eyes. "Thats the cheesiest thing I've ever heard you say, you dork"

"So, if I asked to kiss you again it wouldn't be as cheesy?" You smirked, and she swore she could get used to this every day for the rest of her life.

Extra:

"Now that your alive, can you finally change that crusty t-shirt?" Astrid teased, holding your hand tightly as you walked back to her house.

You pretended to think about it before laughing "Yes, Ma'am" You winked.

A/N- Thank you lovely anon for requesting a part 2! I have another Astrid fic lined up and, in the works, currently along with the lost boys and others. Please continue to send in requests and I'll get to them as soon as possible. Thank you all for the love on my writing, it means so so much to me.

If there is a possible part 3 wanted it would probably just be filled with little incidents when Astrid now saves the readers life because they forget they’re alive now and could actually get hurt.

If anyone wants to be tagged in any sort of tag list (doesn’t just have to be for Astrid fics), please let me know!

Also, I apologize for the extensive knowledge of the paranormal that I have lol. The afterlife has always fascinated me.

Credits-

Ghost and Graveyard Dividers- @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[meo-eiru]

hi dear, I'm not sure if ur ask box is already open, sorry if it isn't, please take your time and stay healthy

soo I've been thinking about that whole concept of delulu elf babying us and BOY isn't that depressing?? like I'd have a whole ass existential crisis after some time

I mean in my perspective, it must be pretty humiliating for a grown person to be not be taken seriously to such extent. like our boy doesn't even trust us to leave the house and is convinced that his darling needs his absolute protection. no personal space, little to no social interactions except for him, etc.

ANND the worst part is that Silas doesn't even realize that he's doing something wrong, unlike classic yanderes. in his head, he's only doing what's best for darling, without any ill intentions (man's head is filled with unicorns and rainbows). in a way, he's the child here; one that accidentally breaks a kitten's paw because they hugged it too tight.

so can you really blame him? can you really bring yourself to hate him? even if you're upset at him for taking away your basic human rights, he's only trying his best for you!! even if his concept of that "best" is a bit twisted. it's a whole ass internal conflict for darling we have here!

and like, I'm a pretty empathetic person, so I'd hate to see him cry. I'd hate myself if I ever snapped at him (he should only cry from pleasure uh huh). so the only choice I have is to slowly convince Silas to change, but can that really work? what if I'd have to spend a millenia like this, slowly dying on the inside?

that's kind of a hilarious concept for me, like, he's the mama here, but you have to sit him down and patiently explain how your body works, to not die because of overfeeding or smth like that

you created a masterpiece, my brainworms are brainworming so hard rn. I also have some interesting thoughts abt Elias ^^

(DESPAIR!! SUFFERINGS!! ok I'm sorry I still want to squeeze his booba like a stress ball)

I love this ask a lot because that's exactly the vibe I was going for with him.

It's very contradicting. On one hand his mothering is appealing because someone taking care of you with such genuine love is... nice. No matter how you act, no matter what tricks you pull, Silas will forever and ever love you with all his heart. You are his precious flower and he has so much affection for you. He can heal you, he can keep you fed, he can give you the love no one else can.

But at the end of the day that love will be the thing that ruins you. The fundamental difference between you two's existence, how you two view life and each other is just too much. While Silas can take care of your basic needs and give you love, him being so unable to fully understand you and your capabilities can and will eventually break you.

Silas is nice but he isn't. Silas can keep you healthy but also can't. He thinks he's sufficient for you but he just isn't.

He's beautiful and lives in a bright world full of colors but will be the one who'll strip your world of color.

You'll slowly change as he continues to suffocate you with affection.

And he will do all of it with genuine love and good intent in his heart.

Which is what makes him so contradicting. He's like your doom wrapped in cute packaging and presented to you by someone who loves you. He's a poison turned into a warm homecooked meal.

[lordprettyflackotara]

Hitchhiker || Chapter Nineteen || The Proxies

tw: depression, gore descriptions, WHEW smut 18+ minors dni, foursome, gangbang, poundtown, breeding, double penetration (triple if you consider suckin dick in that equation)

a/n: the next chapter will take a lot of time to come out. i plan on releasing it along with the canon ending and an alternative ending at the same time so you guys can choose. i promise i am locked in but that will be a lengthy ass project for me. anyways, enjoy this smutty ass shit!

<— previous chapter

“Nova!”

The scream left your lips before you could process it, your jaw dropping so low it could hit the floor. Your voice echoed through out your apartment, your eyes glued to the gruesome sight before you.

You had never seen anything like it. Her body, still completely intact, hung limp from the noose. Her face however was a completely different story. You felt Toby grab you from behind, your body too paralyzed to process the stream of endless tears that strolled down your cheeks. “D-don’t look,” Toby ushered. He tried to pull you out of the apartment, your sorrow holding you in place. You couldn’t look away from the gruesome sight, your eyes glued on what used to be your best friends face.

Her face appeared to be smashed in, as if someone stomped on it until it cracked and then kept going. Her skull was hardly identifiable, her brain a pile of bloody mush that threatened to fall out of the remnants of her head. You felt your stomach churn, Toby holding you back from flinging yourself towards your best friend’s corpse. You’d recognize her bouncy curls from a mile away, her outfit the same one she was wearing the last time you had saw her. Leaning forward you thought you were going to be sick, nausea consuming your senses as you gripped at the floorboards. You couldn’t move from the doorway of your apartment, your body stuck in a hypnotic trance of despair.

You hardly processed Jack stepping over you, slowly approaching Nova’s corpse. He gained your attention when he began to undo the rope. “What- what are you doing?” You choked out in between sobs. Jack was silent for a moment, his hands continuing to move. “She doesn’t deserve to be left like this,” Jack huffed out. Toby tried to convince you to not look again, pulling you closer to him. You stayed in his arms, watching as Jack set Nova’s body on the ground. You stared aimlessly at the sight, Toby’s grip suddenly loosening. You hadn’t noticed Masky or Hoodie’s arrival, their presence surprising you just as much as Toby.

“Y/n-” Toby began, attempting to reach out towards you. Masky stopped him, firmly putting his hand to his chest. “Let her go,” He said quietly. Masky firmly believed you needed to see how terrible The Operator truly was. How demonic and cruel he was. There was no sugar coating the situation anymore, you were prey for the world’s most dangerous predator. You stumbled over your feet as you sat on the right side of her body, Jack on her left. You wished you could’ve seen her sweet face one last time. You’d spend those last moments memorizing every freckle on her caramel skin. Yet you couldn’t even have that, her face hollowed in and horrific to look at. Your eyes couldn’t stop producing tears, your body frozen as you stared down at her.

Your hand was shaky as you tucked some stray hairs behind her ear, her curls just as soft as you remembered them. Jack was huffing under his mask, causing you to glance at him. He lifted it up briefly, exposing his nose and lips. He leaned down, Hoodie stepping forward to stop him. “Don’t. He’s not going to do that,” Masky grumbled. Your eyebrows furrowed as you watched the demon lean down, nuzzling his face into Nova’s shoulder. Curiously you watched him sniff her, causing your eyes to widened. Jack exhaled loudly, before leaning away from her corpse. “This isn’t Nova,” He announced. You felt your heart skip a beat, your widened eyes centered on Jack. “What?” You hissed. You glanced back down at your best friend’s corpse, before glaring at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?” You snapped. You could feel your face getting hot, your emotions unhinged.

“I have a superior sense of smell and her scent isn’t Novas,” Jack said with a shrug. He seemed so nonchalant, so unfazed. Masky sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Now Jack-” He began, your venom laced words interrupting him.

“What exactly are you proposing? I think i’d know my best friend’s corpse you demonic moron,” You growled. There was a brief moment of silence, one that Jack sliced in half with his next words, “Clearly not, considering that’s not her.”

Your body sprung into action for you, carrying you off of the ground and lunging yourself at Jack. You pushed him to the floor, pinning him and grabbing handfuls of his hoodie. “Dont you ever disrespect her like this again! She’s fucking dead. Dont you understand? She’s gone!” You seethed. Your voice cracked at the realization of her being gone, your anger now subsiding and being replaced with sorrow. Releasing your grip on Jacks hoodie you slumped beside him, curling up into a ball. You put your hands over your ears, screwing your eyes shut as you sobbed. Your head was pounding, memories of you and Nova swirling around your head. This was all your fault. This was all your fault. This was all your fault.

You felt a large set of hands pick you up, tucking you into the owners chest. You couldn’t get that image out of your head. The broken pieces of her skull and brain mushed together that sat where her beautiful face used to be. Inhaling you recognized the scent of cigarettes, letting you know that Masky was the one holding you. Faintly you could hear talking, the words muffled but the sound still audible. You signed into Masky’s chest, your eyes fluttering shut, your body slumping from exhaustion.

That was the last time you slept peacefully.

Your mind refused to let you sleep much after that, every time your eyes managed to close you’d see Nova’s face. The smiles she’d give you. The way she’d hold your hand. Then the memories would settle in. The ones of her taking you out for drinks after a stressful shift at work. Or the late nights you’d stay up together binge watching shameless. As the days dragged on her voice was beginning to grow more faint in your memory. This forced you to think of her every moment you spent awake. Jack had concluded you had never experienced such a deep loss before, thus leading to your depression. It concerned your lovers when he truthfully told them there was no guarantee you’d ever mentally recover.

You were a zombie to Toby. When you did walk around, it was only when your bladder threatened to make you urinate on yourself. You only ate when forced to, your nutrition intake Toby’s sole responsibility. He dedicated his time to cooking, gathering old cookbooks that had gathered dust on Jack’s shelves. Toby figured he wouldn’t mind, considering he didn’t eat human food anyways. Whether it was actually good or not Toby could never tell, your face empty and eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. He concluded it was at least edible, your jaw slowly crunching whatever it was he had managed to feed you.

To Brian, you were a hollow shell of who you used to be. It was his responsibility to bathe you, ensuring you were always clean. Brian was a bit of a clean freak contrary to everyone around him. He had no issue bathing you, of course. You’d sit in the tub, knees tucked to your chest as you blankly stared at the faucet. Brian was always tender and gentle with you, massaging your scalp with shampoo and washing you as if you were made of delicate glass. It was during this time he discovered your tramp stamp, something he attempted to joke about. He wanted to see it. He wanted to see a glimpse of the old you, the one he fell in love with. His attempt failed utterly, your silence almost deafening to his ears.

As for Tim, he didn’t consider you to be there at all. It was his responsibility to ensure you didn’t sleepwalk or fall under The Operators influence. At night he’d watch you toss and turn, hopelessly trying to fall asleep. Once you did eventually, that’s when the nightmares came. You’d wake up screaming, your vocal cords becoming sore from doing it so frequently. It led you to avoid sleeping all together, your eyes blood shot with dark bags hanging underneath them. The guilt of Nova’s death was eating you alive. You felt solely responsible. That the weight of her death fell on your shoulders and yours alone. You wished you could beg her for forgiveness. To have mercy on your crushed soul. But it was too late for that. It was too late for you to tell her how much she truly meant to you. She was gone. Forever.

Staring aimlessly at the wall, your mind soaring with daydreams filled with Nova, Tim entered the room. It was a typical routine now, him sitting in a rocking chair by your bedside. Except this time he brought something with him. Something he thought may lighten your mood. “Hey princess. Brought you something,” He said. Now truthfully the cigarettes were more for him than for you, but he remembered the way your eyes lit up when he offered you one. Tim strolled over to the rocking chair, sitting down in it. He dug out the cigarette box, your eyes finally flickering away from the wall. Tim tried to hide his grin, afraid a reaction might shy you away into your shell again.

He ripped off the plastic, opening the box up. As nonchalantly as he could he handed you a cigarette, watching you take it with shaky fingers. He brought his own to his lips, fishing a lighter out of his jeans. You forced yourself to sit up, propping yourself up on one elbow as you leaned forward. Tim picked up on your hint to help light the cigarette, flicking the lighter and holding the flame at its end. You inhaled deeply, watching the tobacco burn a bright orange as it swirled around your lungs. Tim allowed himself to smile this time, watching you exhale into the cold night air. Your eyes finally flickered to his, one of your eyebrows raising, “What?”

Oh your voice. The sweet sweet sound of your voice. “Nothing princess,” Tim shrugged, leaning back in his hair. He lit his own cigarette, the smoke along with you uttering a single word making him extremely happy. But much like he would treat a cautious deer, he pretended to not be. He didn’t want to scare you away. Not now. Not after a month of seeing a doll version of you take your place. So instead he rocked back and forth in his rocking chair, inhaling and exhaling the precious tobacco stick. Unsurely you forced yourself to sit up, the cold winters breeze hitting you from the window. Your eyes fluttered closed. When was the last time you had allowed yourself to enjoy the wind? Or anything for that matter?

You smoked alongside Tim, the bedroom door opening. Brian and Toby both stumbled inside. “Aren’t you guys supposed to be sleeping?” Tim asked. Brian and Toby tried to hide their guilty looks, failing under Tim’s stern gaze. “Yeah but Jacks out hunting so we needed to protect the house, obviously,” Brian said. Toby nodded along frantically, his neck slightly twitching at the sight of you sitting up. Both boys joined you on the bed, Toby by your side and Brian lying on his stomach at the end. You handed Toby your cigarette, while Tim handed Brian his own. "I-it's nice to see y-you up," Toby said softly. His comment on your behavior alarmed Tim and Brian, who feared you'd curl up back into a ball. You delivered him a small smile. Although Nova's death weighed heavy on your heart and soul, your boys needed you.

You were their soul reason for breaking away. For trying to find freedom away from The Operator. Despair had clouded their lives for so long, the existential dread of being a homicidal slave daunting on their mental states. But you were like a ray of hope for them. Just as they were becoming a ray of hope for you in your darkest hour. "I'm sorry, about mentally clocking out," You apologized, tucking some of your hair behind your ear. Brian rolled over on his back, blowing the cigarette smoke into the air. "Don't sweat it, we'll always be here for you," The blonde informed you. Toby handed you back your cigarette, your lips feigning for a hit. As you stared over the stick and studied the three men, you had a realization you should've had ages ago.

You loved them.

With all of your body, mind, and soul. You truly adored each of them, including Masky and Hoodie. Pin pointing exactly when you fell in love with each of them individually was impossible. Maybe the truth was you had loved them all along, from the moment you picked them up in your car on Halloween.

"C'mere. All three of you," You whimpered lowly. Tim flicked his cigarette out of the window, Brian following suit. They surrounded you like hungry wolves, Tim's pupils blown with lust once he realized what you wanted. "Are you sure about this?" He asked slowly. You slid your shirt over your head, your breast bouncing out and on display. "I just wanna feel something. Something good. You three make me feel good," You admitted. Brian and Toby's concern was completely faded at the sight of your breast, your nipples perky from the cool night air. "I want you. All of you. Right now," You whispered. Tim's lips were on you in a flash, while Toby and Brian each took one of your breast into their mouths. You groaned into Tim's mouth, which he eagerly swallowed. The taste of cigarettes and mint danced across your taste buds, Brian nudging you to open your legs. Your hands slithered to Toby's and Tim's crotches, their cocks growing harder by the minute.

Individually they were addicting as lovers, but all together, they were truthfully intoxicating. Toby teasingly grazed your nipple with his teeth, while Brian’s tongue swirled around the other sensitive bud. You recognized Brian’s slender fingers palming at your clothed cunt, your slick drenching your panties. He released your nipple with a pop, kissing down your stomach before reaching the waistband of your shorts. You lifted your hips, helping him pull them down along with your panties in a swift motion. He ran two fingers up your folds, grinning at the sight of your arousal. “Look at that. So fuckin wet for us,” Brian purred, before beginning to lap at your folds. His lips attached themselves to your clit, the sensation causing you to moan loudly.

Tim couldn’t get enough of your sounds, shoving his shirt over his head. “Wanna feel the both of you, take these off,” You panted, tugging at his and Toby’s jeans. The men undressed quickly, your sinful noises uncontrollable as Brian devoured your pussy. As soon as you saw Tim and Toby’s cocks you wrapped your hands around them, jerking them off. Toby’s whimpers were loud and audible, while Tim bit the inside of his cheek to hold back his own. You struggled to remain coherent as Brian’s tongue teased your entrance, before he abruptly shoved two fingers inside of you instead. “There we go. You can take it princess,” Tim praised, brushing some of your hair off of your face. Brian curled his fingers inside of you, abusing your g spot. You briefly got lost in the pleasure, your hands coming to a slow halt as you explored euphoria.

Brian’s fingers stopping brought you back to reality, both of your boyfriend’s cocks hard in your hands. “Don’t stop showing them love, or else i’ll stop,” Brian said sternly. You gulped as you continued pumping Tim and Toby’s cocks, Brian’s finger fucking resuming. "F-fuck i'm gonna destroy that pretty throat of yours," Toby moaned, his cheeks a visible shade of pink. Tim's face was turning red, his groans now audible as you jerked him off. You could feel yourself getting closer to your first orgasm, your thighs trembling. "Fuck, i'm gonna fucking cum, fuck- please make me cum," You babbled, your hand straying from Tim's cock and gripping Brian's wrist. Tim took the opportunity to lean down close to your face, planting sloppy kisses on the side of your head. "Go on princess, cum on his face like the good girl I know you are," He huffed, nibbling at your earlobe. His words broke you, the cord inside of you snapping as you came on Brian's relentless fingers.

Dazed, the boys rearranged you, ensuring you were comfortable as you propped yourself up on all fours. Tim laid beneath you, his chocolate orbs full of comfort. Toby was to your left, while Brian was behind you. "I-i've n-never," You sputtered, your unexplored hole clenching from fear and arousal. Tim was quick to wash away your worry. "We're gonna go nice and slow, aren't we Brian?" He asked, his question coming out as more of an order. Brian's large hands cupped your ass, gripping the flesh as gently as he could muster. "Don't worry beautiful, we're gonna take good care of you," He agreed. Tim was first, slowly rubbing his tip up and down your drenched folds. Toby watched silently, teasingly rubbing his hand up and down his shaft as Tim pushed himself inside of you. Bracing yourself you grabbed onto Tim's shoulders, grunts escaping his lips as your gummy walls gushed around his cock. "Such a perfect little cunt," He groaned, biting his bottom lip.

You tensed up as you felt Brian spit on your puckered hole, your eyes widening. Tim had fully bottomed out inside of you, his cock brushing against your g spot. You buried your head into Tim's shoulder as Brian slowly pushed a finger inside of your asshole. "So fuckin tight, holy fuck," He muttered. Toby was fine waiting, but was eager for a show while he did so. "I-it would probably h-h-help if you fucked her Tim,” He advised. The older brunette caved to his desires, Toby's suggestion only adding fuel to the flame. He slowly pulled his cock out of you, before ramming back into you. You whined as his thrust picked up the pace, Toby's hand guiding you to jack off his cock. "Taking me so well princess, does it feel good?" Tim asked teasingly, your whimpers and unholy noises vibrating against his neck. Your noises were incoherent, a gasp escaping your lips as Brian added a second finger. A rough hand yanked you away from the comfort of Tim's neck, Toby's brown eyes boring down into yours.

"H-he asked you a question princess," Toby spat mockingly, enjoying the sight of your face temporarily scrunching up in pain. Tim could feel your walls squeeze around him as Toby gripped your hair. "Be as rough as you want with her kid, she likes it," He chuckled darkly. It became hard to focus, your tongue flattening out across your bottom lip. You were practically drooling at the sight of Toby's cock and you couldn't help but want to suck him dry. You were so distracted you didn't notice Brian's fingers leaving your unexplored hole. He regained your attention when you felt Tim's thrust come to a halt as Brian slowly pushed himself inside of you. For a moment you thought you were going to split in half, your fingernails digging into Tim's shoulders. Tim's rough hands reached around your waist, holding the mounds of your ass apart as Brian sank in deeper. Your noises were strangled bits of pain mixed with pleasure, Tim's lips planting sloppy kisses against your neck.

"Doing so well for us," Brian panted, attempting to contain himself as your walls pulled him in closer. Once he fully bottomed out the four of you were panting in unison, your body struggling with the feeling of being so full. "Sorry princess, need to move," Tim hissed through his teeth. Both boys began moving their hips, your head spinning from pain slowly fading into pleasure. You didn't have time to think too much, Toby guiding your mouth onto his cock. Your noises created blissful vibrations around his shaft, your eyes watering as he began to sink deeper into your throat. All three of your holes were stuffed, the pain fully fading into euphoric pleasure as the boys abused your holes as they pleased. It was just the right distraction, your body in a state of bliss as they fucked you senseless. You gagged on Toby's cock as he used your throat, your thighs beginning to shake as you neared your second orgasm.

You had never felt such intense pleasure before, the four of you lost in a trance. Toby knew he was going to cum first, his hips stuttering as his hips thrusted into you. He combed his fingers through your scalp, tugging at your roots. "G-gonna cum down t-that pretty throat of yours," He panted. You struggled to comprehend his words as Tim and Brian pounded into you, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Toby moaned your name as he came, his warm cum flooding down your throat. You gagged at the sensation, his slender fingers securing your head in place. “Swallow every last drop,” He ordered, a sadistic grin crossing his lips as he watched you struggle to do so. He finally removed his cock from your throat, your tongue rolling out to proudly showed him you listened. He kneeled down, cupping your chin. Your lips puckered out like a fish as Toby gave you devilish gaze.

“C-cum on their c-cocks. Go on. I’m w-waiting,” Toby spat, his neck twitching as he stared deeply into your eyes. You felt Brian’s hands roughly grab your ass, your body shaking. Your vision went white as you came, your euphoria sending you upwards towards the stars. You could vaguely still feel Brian and Tim pounding you, your body spent. You were held up by three strong sets of hands, Brian’s orgasm following closely after yours. His warm seed splattered across your ass cheeks, painting your skin. Tim was still rutting into you, his orgasm close. “Please cum in me Tim, please, I need it,” You whined, your thighs trembling. Your pleas sent him over the edge, his mind full of pure filth about breeding you.

He painted your insides white, flooding your cunt. Exhausted you collapsed on top of him, panting as he slowly pulled out of you. In a dream like state you could feel the boys carrying you over to the bathroom for a bath. You snuggled against Toby’s chest, your eyes blissfully fluttering shut. For the first time since Novas death you felt content. Who would’ve thought three hitchhikers could make you feel so loved.

—> next chapter

[lila-lou]

✨ His only exception - Pt. 4/? ✨

Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language, sorta prostitution, kinda dirty, violence

Word Count: 1834

A/N: This is part 4 of “His only exeption”.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

After another agonizing silence, you turned on the radio. But even Bob Seger couldn't lift the mood with his night moves. You groaned in despair and let your head fall against the window. Soldier Boy watched you out of the corner of his eye for a while before he patted your thigh and got over himself. “C´mon (y/n)! Don't be a grumpy little bitch", he tried his best to sound relaxed and cool but you just turned to him with your eyebrows raised. "Are you kidding? You broke my damn wrist!”. Your voice was filled with amazement and anger.

“Uh-uh! A bit more than sprained. Not quiet broken. There’s a difference”, he raised his index finger for emphasis, moving his gaze back and forth between you and the street.

“Ben!-”. “I fucking apologized, didn’t I?! It was… not intentional and certainly not planned… Who would have thought that you-". This time you interrupted him. “That I what? That I don't suddenly take off my panties for you? Ben! I thought we were friends?”. Your voice cracked slightly towards the end.

“I don’t have any friends,” was all he replied.

“Well, thanks for the clarification!”, you bit back. “How the fuck am I now the bad guy again?! I apologized! I'm trying to do the fucking right thing here and you're making it fucking hard for me not to kick you out the damn Car!". Ben was really trying to understand you, but he was new to this. It was new to him, not being adored and worshipped.

“Are you really listening to yourself, Ben? I'm probably the only person on this damn planet who cares about you. And you…why did you have to ruin that?”. This time even he could hear the disappointment in your voice. Still, he didn't know how to make amends for what he had done. “(y/n) I-”. Ben rubbed his beard and looked at you discouraged. “Why did you think I would… let you sleep with me?", you looked at him and felt the heat rising to your cheeks. "Shit, you can barely say it without blushing". Despite the depressed mood, Ben couldn't help but chuckle a little about that fact.

Another silence followed.

“You’re fucking hot (y/n), okay? And I'm horny. Since Russia it feels like I`m horny 24/7. And you doll can’t deny that it would be handy for you to let off some steam too”.

Ben’s eyes found yours. He wasn't lying, but you knew he was hiding something from you.

No matter how long your dry spell had lasted and no matter what Ben would say or do, you could never confess to him that you had been attracted to him from day one. Those words would never pass your lips. Towards no one. Ben was pretty “nice” to you, well at least by his standards. And even though you got along pretty well, it could never be anything more than friendship. Soldier Boy just wasn't a good person. He was incapable of showing emotion, let alone loving anyone but himself. So why should you get involved with him? And even though you had dreamed countless times about him giving you pleasure, fucking you stupid and giving you orgasms like no one else could, you had your principles. No sex without feelings.

“Flattering, but no”, you said, trying to be gentle.

"Why not? A shitload of women would fucking pay for that, do you realize that?”, he replied, stunned. “Okay, listen", you turned to him in the passenger seat and fixed him with your gaze. “Why do you want to sleep with me so badly? Why me? If there are so many women who would do anything to have you fuck ´em unconscious, why clinging to me? Tell me what makes me different? and… well, if I like the reason, maybe I'll think about it". You obviously upset Ben with your words. You could see all the wheels in his brain turning and even after a few minutes he didn't have an answer to your question.

"I thought so. We’re here”, you sighed, getting out of the car. “Give me 5 minutes head start”, you added before slamming the car door and walking with fast steps across the large parking lot. “Day drinking and prostitution, here I come,” you grumble to yourself.

What Butcher had told you, went absolutely against your morals, but you had felt beyond useless for the last few weeks, which was why you finally wanted to prove to yourself that you were useful for more than just tracking down Supes. Although you couldn't imagine anyone more disgusting to set an example than the Deep.

When you entered the bar, the first thing that hit you, was the smell of marijuana and cheap perfume. Even though it appeared to be an upscale local, the owners didn't seem to have much to offer their employees. You looked around and saw half naked girls dancing on poles, fat old men on the sofas in front of them with drool running down the corners of their mouths and in the middle of it all, the Deep. “You got this”, you motivated yourself before taking off your coat, placing it over a bar stool and smoothing down your too-tight and short dress. With a smooth movement of your hand, you threw back your laboriously curled hair and walked past your target's lounge with confident and elegant steps. “Three, two, one-”, you whispered as you felt a hand on your forearm.

“Hey beautiful, where are you going with those beautiful legs of yours?". Oh, how you wished you could have rolled your eyes. Instead, you spun on your heels to find the Deep leaning back into the sofa, letting go of your arm. “Don’t you want to join me?”, he grinned at you. Unfortunately, putting on a show and playing ´hard to get´ didn’t work for him because his brain cells weren’t up to it. “Oh shit, you’re the Deep, aren’t you?”, you feign surprise, holding a hand over your bright red lips. “That’s exactly what it looks like, baby. Come here, come to me”, he didn't pat the sofa, but rather his lap.

After a few minutes of small talk you could finally see Ben from a distance, but he first looked at all the dancing ladies. You tried several times to get his attention but to no avail. He was only a few steps into the bar and two girls were already grinding on him. And Ben being Ben, he wasted no time and starting with cupping their asses. One of the two pushed him onto a bar stool while the other started giving him a lap dance, wearing nothing but a lace thong.

“So baby, don’t you want to show me a little bit of yourself?”. Kevin’s right hand stroked your thigh under your dress while you lay in his left arm. He pushed you further into the sofa, his hand squeezing your ass and making you gasp. In order not to completely give up control, you pushed against his chest with all your strength and quickly slipped onto his lap. With your legs on either side of his thighs, your dress rode up. Anyone walking behind you would have been able to see your bare butt if Kevin hadn't immediately covered it up with both hands. "Hmm… You want to be in charge, don't you?". You could already feel his erection against your thigh, which only disgusted you more. “How about we dance first?”, you grinned at him, hoping to buy some time. “No, no, no, but you can sure dance for me, baby”, the Deep replied with a big ass smirk. You took Kevin's glass and drank it in one gulp before slipping off his lap and taking a few steps back. Your heart began to beat like crazy, but you gathered all your courage, ignored the lustful looks from the other guests and Kevin and started moving your hips slowly to the beat of the music.

That was also the moment when Ben finally noticed you. He sipped his whiskey, licked his lips, and watched you from his spot at the bar. He ignored the two women who were still dancing for him. His attention was solely on you. "Uhh, someone's getting really hard", the blonde moaned in his ear while her colleague stroked up and down Ben's upper arm. While your eyes were on Kevin, Ben was looking at his crotch. “Shit”, he growled, pushing both women away with a jerk.

Meanwhile, Kevin didn't hesitate anymore, grabbing you by the hips and pulling you onto his lap with a strong tug before grabbing your face and pressing his lips to yours, which was absolutely not the plan. You should only distract the Deep long enough for Ben to put something in his drink at the bar.

When Ben saw the Deep stick his tongue down your throat, anger overwhelmed him. Within seconds, he ripped you away, pushed you onto the sofa and grabbed the Deep by the collar of his supe suit. Kevin didn't know what was going on and could hardly say a word. “Ben! What are you doing?", you shouted at him as all the other customers stormed out of the bar one by one. “This son of a bitch is fucking disgusting. A worthless piece of shit. I should rip his head off here and now”, Ben hissed.

“Ben, stick to the damn plan”, you admonished him, slowly lifting yourself up. Ben's eyes darkened with anger.

“You better listen to your little friend”, Kevin gasped, trying to save his own dear life.

"You'd better keep your damn mouth shut, fuckface". Ben let go for a split second before sticking his large hand through Kevin's supe suit into his gills, lifting him up and shushing him.

“Ben! we can't kill him! Ben… Please.” While the Deep was panting in pain, Ben finally looked at you.

"You're going to let that fucker rub his cock on you, but make a fucking scene when I kiss you?!".

In the middle of his sentence, Ben's mood changed from angry to stunned to angry again.

Very angry.

Ben's suit-covered chest began to glow and his hand relaxed, which Deep used to escape. “Shit, shit, shit!”, you gasped. “Ben, stop!”, you tried to calm him down, but to no avail. Knowing that you had absolutely no chance of getting out of here alive if you stayed, you ran towards the exit as fast as you could. You ran for your life. Seconds later you heard a loud bang and everything around you went dark.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

-

Part 5

-

Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy

[obsessivevoidkitten]

To Reject a Vampire

Male Vampire Yandere x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Non-con, vampire, biting, blood drinking, depressed reader, mind control, smut, blowjob, forced imprisonment, dead dove: do not eat, general yandere behavior) Word Count: 3.4k  (Vampire comm that took me way too long.) 

You were walking back home late one night with your friend, Jaime. You had known each other since childhood and remained inseparable. In fact, the two of you even lived right next door to one another. He had left for college for some years, but had returned as soon as he had become a registered nurse. The two of you often hung out when you were both off work and that sometimes led to walking to the gas station a couple blocks down the road to grab some snacks. You were both laughing from recounting a particularly funny memory you both shared when the sounds of laughter and chatter between the two of you suddenly died down into silence before he spoke. "Hey… there's something I wanted to ask you…" Oh no. Not again… "Have you maybe reconsidered us dating? I know you said no before but-" This was an ongoing problem with Jaime, the only thing really marring an otherwise near perfect friendship. He kept persistently asking you out. This had been going on for years now and your frustration finally got the better of you, making you snap. "NO!" You yelled interrupting him, "NO! NO! NO! NO! NOOOOO!!! It isn't happening! I am totally and completely uninterested in having any type of non-platonic relationship with ANYONE! Stop. Asking. It is NEVER going to happen. Not in this world or the next. Not in any way, shape, form, nor fashion! Get. It. Through. Your. Thick. Skull." You were panting after your outburst. A few seconds passed and you realized how harsh you had been as his face went from stunned silence to utter broken despair. You could practically hear his heart shatter. He often got a bit dejected when you had rejected him in the past, but this time you were much more harsh. With a sniff he started sobbing and running off towards home, leaving you to walk home alone in the quiet night. Sighing you slowly trudged home, sure that Jaime just needed to sulk for a few days before your friendship resumed with the both of you pretending like this awkward episode never happened. And, more than likely, that is just exactly what would have happened. Had a chance encounter on his way home not irreversibly changed Jaime forever. And not for the better. As Jaime was running home his tear filled eyes blinded him to the danger that was stalking him from the shadows. A sneaky predator who loved the taste tormenting his prey imparted, and how much sweeter when his meal was already flavored with the sweet marinade of sorrow and heartbreak? Suddenly Jaime was tackled into a dark alley that he was passing, the vampire easily dragging him back into the void where no eyes could pierce, firmly clasping his hand over Jaime's mouth to keep him quiet. The unknown assailant put his nose into the crook of Jaime's neck and inhaled deeply, savoring the mouthwatering scents of all the negative emotions Jaime had been experiencing that night. The current one being abject terror as the figure behind him didn't even acknowledge his vain attempts at struggling. "I'd tell you not to struggle, but it is really much more fun when you do," mused a deep man's voice. Jaime, whose first thought was that he was getting mugged, now thought that he was going to be raped as his attacker licked and kissed his neck in the same manner one's lover would. And he flailed all the more vigorously. Unperturbed, the man now violated Jaime in an altogether different and unexpected manner. Sinking long fangs easily into the soft flesh of his neck before sucking him nearly dry. It was amazing how thoroughly a vampire could drain a victim. Jaime died, but his murderer was not quite done with him. He loved sowing discord and chaos in any way that he could manage it, and having seen the spectacle early of you rejecting his victim he knew there was ruination and mayhem to be had by creating a fresh, unguided, love-sick vampire. So he bit open his wrist a bit and let the blood flow into the parted lips of our dear departed Jaime. Within an hour he would no longer be so dear nor so departed. And the unknown vampire stepped into the shadows and was never seen there again, happy with his meal and the knowledge that he had certainly derailed more than one life that night. When Jaime woke up hours later, just as the sun was rising, he had a major migraine, a sharp pain in his neck, was chilled to the bone, and felt like he was starving. His memory was spotty, he thought maybe he had been mugged, but he still had his phone and wallet on him. Maybe just assaulted by some crazy person. Whatever had happened he was alive and okay, so he shakily got to his feet, dusted himself off, and made his way home. By the time he had reanimated you had been in bed for hours. Though you hadn't really slept well. You felt so guilty for exploding on him like that. Sure, he kept asking you out, but it wasn't too often and you could have gone about rejecting him just a bit more gently. He had been really hurt, what if he didn't blow it off and resume your friendship like he usually did? After a few days had passed with no contact from him you began to get a bit more anxious, though it was still technically within the normal timeframe of when he usually started talking to you again after you turned down his advances. Still, given the way you had lashed out at him you figured that you should maybe be the one to check up on him instead. Jaime had a reason for not talking to you, what with his transition into a blood feeding immortal taking up most of his time. At first he had no idea at all what was happening to him. He felt cold and feverish and was beyond fatigued. He called off work from the first day, thinking he had a minor flu of some sort. All his senses were disorienting him. His body was adjusting to more sensitive vision, sense of smell, and even touch. The second day he felt better, but had an insatiable hunger, no matter what he ate nothing seemed to satisfy him. He ate a huge breakfast before work and at lunch he ate a lot as well. Some of his coworkers at the hospital even joked about how he was inhaling food that day. Jaime had no clue why he felt like he was starving no matter how much he ate. As someone in the medical field any number of possible causes went through his mind. Nothing really fit. A more concerning symptom was that whenever he was around a wounded patient, whenever he had to do a blood transfusion, or even just whenever he got the faintest whiff of blood his hunger flared up. His senses flared in sensitivity. He could almost have sworn he could hear the heartbeats of those near him. He realized he was craving the blood. It scared him, the thought made him nauseous. Admirably he managed to push away his quite literal blood lust for a couple days, but eventually he could fight his need for blood no longer. It was late at night at the end of his shift and he was beyond certain the coast was clear so he snuck into the storage room where the blood packs are kept and sunk his teeth into one, unknowingly growing fangs as he pierced it and sucked it dry. If the obvious signs hadn't been enough to clue him in on what he now was then innate instinctual knowledge that filled him with his first ingestion of vital human essence did. He was a vampire. A million thoughts raced through his mind, but his first priority was sating his hunger. He quickly grabbed some bags of blood and stuffed them into his coat for later before leaving for home. He was oddly excited, eager to test out what new abilities he had. A day later, when both of you were off work, you finally got a text from him asking to hang out with no mention of what had occurred between the two of you the other night. You breathed a sigh of relief, now things could go back to normal. The two of you had arranged for you to come by his house in a couple hours so the two of you could hang out, order pizza, and play video games. Just like the good old days. Things went entirely normal with no odd deviation or indication that Jaime was now a creature of the night. And it set the pace for your friendship to resume as if nothing had ever happened. Or so you thought, in the weeks since the two of you first started hanging out again Jaime had steadily been experimenting and training with his new found abilities. He had learned that he had an absurd tolerance to pain, extremely quick reflexes, and unholy strength. But, most importantly, he learned that he could compel anyone to do his bidding. He had plans to use this technique on you, but it wasn't quite perfected yet. Though every time he used it he got more and more effective. All he needed was practice and time. So while you went about life and continued your longest running friendship in blissful ignorance of what was to come he was readying himself for the day he could make you love him. When that day arrived it started like any other, you two hanging out at his place on a day when you were both off. But it definitely didn't stay that way. Jaime was at the point with his skill where he no longer even needed to issue commands verbally, he just needed good eye contact to assert his will over another being. "Hey is something wrong? Why are you staring at me so intensel-" You instantly went still and quiet. It was like you were trapped in your own body unable to do anything. When Jaime asked you if you would go out with him you wanted to say no but your lips were not your own and you said yes in a monotone voice. Jaime wore a shit-eating grin as he scooted closer to you and kissed you deeply. You were repulsed and afraid, why weren't you pushing him away, why weren't you slapping him, why were you returning the kiss? You wanted to scream and run away but you could do nothing to control your own body. Instead you wrapped your arms around him and made out with him. Jaime was thrilled, he bit your neck carefully and fed from you as you clung to him. You felt a sharp pain in your neck but could do nothing against it as he tasted your blood. For you it was hell, like a much worse and very real version of sleep paralysis. For Jaime it was heaven, he had never felt closer to you than in that moment. His beloved was finally in his arms and could do nothing to leave them. But he most certainly was not satisfied with that alone for long. Jaime carried you bridal style up to his bed. He very carefully undressed you, as if you were the most delicate doll to ever exist, and stood for a moment admiring every inch of your exposed body. You wanted to shout for help. To cover up. To run. To fight. ANYTHING but lay there under his unwavering gaze. But no matter how hard you tried to fight it you simply couldn't, you were a hostage in your mind, able to see and feel everything but do nothing. The first thing he did, after disrobing, was to attend to your sex. He touched your crouch carefully, as if afraid to hurt you. Like you might shatter at the slightest rough touch. He ran his eager hands, shaking with excitement, over every inch of you. He stroked your cheek tenderly and played with your hair, felt over your chest and thighs and hips. When he had thoroughly explored you and there were no more areas for his hands to discover he decided he needed to go deeper. The vampire took two lubed fingers and slowly worked them into you, gently prying your entrance open and stretching you to be ready for him. He savored every sensation and fold inside you, hard as a rock as he imagined his cock where his fingers were. You couldn't even cry as he violated you, you were denied even that emotional release. And this remained the case even as he slathered his cock with lube and aligned it with your entrance and made his way inside you with his slightly above average dick. Jaime was torturously slow as he "made love" with his dear partner. You just wanted this nightmare to be over, you wanted to believe that at any moment you would wake up sweating in bed like you would from any bad dream. You had to stare wide-eyed, made to take it all in, as he looked at you lovingly. He kissed you deeply, and once more you were made to comply, parting your lips so that he could move his tongue inside. Jaime happily rubbed his tongue against yours as he worked towards filling you with his hot seed. As he approached his climax he gripped your hip painfully and picked up the pace, really drilling you as deeply and as forcefully as he could, his balls slapping into you with each painful thrust. Right before he came he slowed down as much as possibly, wanting to draw out the sensation for as long as he could. Slowwwwwwly pulling out before sliding just as slowly back in, repeating this a few times before thrusting forward and emptying his balls into you as he bit the side of your neck that he left untouched earlier. You came too just as he did, your body now betraying you even further than it had already and in the most humiliating way. He drank a bit before sliding his dick out of you and kissing your cheek. "That was amazing babe! I love you so much!" And as a puppet pulled by its strings you replied, once more in monotone, "I love you too." And the illusion was shattered. It wasn't real. He may have had you, he may have even had your vocal chords, but he didn't have your emotions. And he soon learned that no matter what he tried, even though he could get you to do almost any action, he couldn't force you to love him. Jaime tried for weeks to force love for him into you, keeping you locked away in his house whenever he left for work. You tried to leave, of course, but simple orders lingered in you even when he was no longer present. You couldn't leave or get help in any way. All of your existence now amounted to was enduring his increasing frustration with being unable to make you love him interspersed with periods of anxiety while waiting for him to get home from work and torture you all over again. You were no longer aware of exactly how long you had been trapped, the days all kind of blended together. Most days he had work at the hospital and those days were all largely the same with little to no variation. Jaime would get up and make you breakfast in bed, insisting that he was trying to spoil you. You, in a mix of depression and defiance would not take a single bite and just stare at the plate that he brought to you on a tray with your favorite morning drink. Inevitably he would get frustrated, snap at you, force you to eat against your will, and slam the door as he went off to work. Then you were left alone, it was probably the only almost decent part of your day, but everything just seemed so hopeless. Inevitably the blood sucking parasite would be back and you couldn’t leave no matter how hard you tried to. At each attempt it was like someone seized your body and squeezed you into immobility until you submitted. When your “lover” got home he would fawn over you, often giving you a little gift. A small gesture you supposed was meant to somehow make you forget everything and fall helplessly in love with him. A small sweet treat, a flower, a tiny teddy bear. Anytime he tried this tactic you always ignored it or threw it across the room. Either way the result was the same. Jaime would snap, he would not even bother forcing you mentally as he grabbed your weak arms and bit painfully into your neck. “No please! I’m s-sorry!” You would cry, always regretting your action but never being able to stop yourself from denying his gifts when he offered them. And for the next part he would use his ability of compulsion to make you stop fighting. In his fury he wanted to hurt you a bit, but not TOO badly, and he enjoyed, for a moment, the fantasy that you were a willing participant. Most of the time he would then have you remove your clothing before sliding himself inside you, biting and kissing and sucking your neck as he did so, whispering how you were all his and about how much he loved you softly into your ear. Sometimes he would instead utilize your soft lips, jamming his hard cock down your throat, making you service him. The heat of your wet mouth combined with the sight of you looking up at him with his cock in your mouth was almost enough to make him blow his load immediately. You were just so beautiful. No matter the method that he chose it always ended the same. After his finished unloading into you his mind would clear and then be filled with rage as you were unable to reciprocate his love and enjoyment of the forced intimacy between the two of you. Jaime would angrily shove you aside, leaving you to clean yourself up, while he slammed the door to the bedroom and went to go make dinner. When it was ready of course he always found you laying where he left you, sobbing. Then he would, roughly, force you to your feet and drag you into the bathroom where he would run you a bath. This is where he would feel really guilty and suddenly turn soft. Every time. Gently shampooing your hair and cleaning your body, tenderly attending to the bites on your neck, happily babbling about how much he loves you and he knows you’ll love him eventually, you just need more time to adjust was all. Jaime would then clothe you himself and carry you down to dinner. You wouldn’t eat willingly, too catatonic by this point in the evening to do much of anything, but that was okay. Jaime was still in his sweet phase, all the anger having left earlier. He would feed you himself but compel you to swallow with his vampiric power, he always made your favorites. He had diligently learned to cook them perfectly for you over the years even though he otherwise did not enjoy cooking. After dinner he would always make an effort to spend some time with you, not getting angry when you were still, and when it was time for bed he would carry you up in his strong arms and lay you down as if you were made of the thinnest glass, a complete 180 to how he treated you when he first got off work. He would snuggle up to you from behind and hold you close, ending each night by telling you how much he loved you and saying he knew deep down you loved him back and one day you would be so happy with him. You hoped he was right, you hoped you could just be happy waking up in his arms, because if not this cycle of abuse juxtaposed to tenderness would never end.

[calicoheartz]

hi could u pls write about Paige comforting and helping reader who tries but can’t get her grades up and just feels overwhelmed due to some friendship issues too pls ? You could do different parts or a fic abt this would be rlly nice pls 💐💐

Whispers of Comfort ; Paige Bueckers

꣑୧ — summary | just paige comforting you with your personal struggles 💌💐❤️‍🩹

wc ; 900

— warnings | tw mentions of depression , anxiety , mental health , angst (has a happy ending dw!!)

my master list ㇀♡

a/n : this is somewhat similar to one of my other fics that you can read here , so I tried to add a different spin on it! Enjoy :)

The fluorescent lights of the university library cast a harsh glow over the hunched figure buried in textbooks and notes. That figure was you, desperately trying to make sense of the chaos of academics that seemed determined to swallow you whole. Yet, despite your best efforts, the numbers on your latest exam paper stared back at you with cruel finality—another failure in a long line of disappointments.

Your heart sank in remembrance of the unfortunate outcome of the test you studied hours for, the test you dedicated to studying for almost 3 weeks in advance. Your heart sank as the weight of inadequacy settled in your chest, suffocating you with each labored breath. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you struggled to hold back the overwhelming tide of despair threatening to consume you whole.

“Hey, mind if I join you?”

You quickly recognized the sweet and gentle voice, startled, you looked up to find your girlfriend standing right before you, with a concerned look marring her brow. Her presence alone was enough to ease the tightness in your chest, offering a small glimmer of hope amidst the uneasiness and darkness that threatened to swallow you whole.

“Paige..” you managed to stutter out, your voice echoing with emotion. “I didn’t expect to see you here, I thought you were at home?”

A sympathetic smile graced the blondes lips, as she took the seat opposite of you, as her eyes filled with genuine concern.

“You weren’t answering any of my texts, so I figured you’d be here. I couldn’t help but wonder what was on your mind.” she said softly, her voice laced with sincerity. “Is everything okay?”

Paige knew you had struggled this year academically, but she never knew to what extent. You were ashamed to ask her for help, I mean compared to her you’re only a fraction of her success. While she’s an all american academic, juggling both sports and her studies, you were even struggling to pass a simple quiz or project. Which in term made it very difficult to ask her for help, afraid she would realize that you weren’t worth her time.

It’s almost as if the floodgates collapsed, the weight of your burdens spilling out a torrent of pent-up emotions. You poured your heart out to Paige, confessing the struggles that had plagued you for weeks - the sleepless nights spent studying, the countless hours wasted in a fruitless pursuit of academic perfection, the forgotten and skipped meals, everything seeming to slowly creep up onto you all seemingly at once.

Paige listened intently, offering words of comfort and trying to understand as you bared your soul into her. In her presence, the walls you had built around your heart began to crumble, revealing the vulnerable soul that lay beneath the facade of strength you had so carefully constructed.

"I just don't know what to do anymore," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to get my grades up. And on top of that, I'm having issues with my friends..."

Your words trailed off, a sense of helplessness washing over you as you struggled to articulate the depth of your despair. Paige reached out, her hand intertwining between yours in a gesture of solidarity that sent warmth spreading through your veins.

"You're not alone, you know," she said gently, her voice a soothing balm to the wounds of self-doubt that had long plagued your spirit. "We all face challenges in life, but it's how we confront them that defines who we are. You're doing the best you can, and that's all anyone can ask for."

Her words resonated with you, striking a chord deep within your soul as you looked into her eyes and saw the unwavering belief reflected there. In Paige's presence, you found the strength to confront the demons that had held you captive for so long, emboldened by the knowledge that you were not alone in your struggles.

Together, you and Paige embarked on a journey of self-discovery, navigating the treacherous waters of academia and interpersonal relationships with unwavering determination. With each passing day, you found solace in each other's company, drawing strength from the unbreakable bond that had formed between you.

As the weeks turned into months, you began to see glimpses of progress—small victories that served as a testament to the resilience of the human spirit. With Paige by your side, you faced each challenge head-on, armed with the unwavering belief that together, you could overcome anything life threw your way.

And in the quiet moments shared between late-night study sessions and heartfelt conversations, you discovered something far more precious than academic success or fleeting friendships. You found solace in each other, a bond forged in the crucible of adversity, bound by the unbreakable ties of love and understanding.

In Paige's arms, you found refuge from the storm raging within, a sanctuary where the burdens of the world melted away in the warmth of her embrace. And as you leaned into her, basking in the glow of her unwavering affection, you knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, you would face them together, united in a love that transcended the boundaries of time and space.

For in the midst of chaos, you had found peace, and with the love of your life Paige, you had found home.

we love good girlfriend Paige !! i want a paige in my life 🥴😞 as always , thank you for reading !!

psa ! if u are struggling w mental health my dms are always open 💗 rmb that ur so loved by me and so many others

[lonniemachin]

Laila reached out to me to help share her fundraiser. She is a 22-year-old Palestinian architecture student urgently raising money to evacuate Gaza and continue her education in Cairo. She has only raised €2,489 out of her €35,000 goal so far! Please donate, and if you can’t donate, please share!

From Laila’s GFM:

My name is Laila Auda. I’m writing to you while my heart is heavy, my tears are pouring down out of fear and despair. My only shimmer of hope to achieve my dream of being an Architect relies on you.

I’m 22-year-old dreamer and 178 days genocide survivor. I’ve endured unimaginable hardships including four major aggressions and countless military escalations. I’m still reluctant to believe that I’m reliving the 177th day of the fifth war in my prime years. Not only have these wars destroyed my dreams, but they have also deepened my trauma and depression.

In 2018, I was granted the opportunity of a lifetime through the ACCESS Micro scholarship Program funded by the US Department of State for 2 years English learning.

In 2020 I graduated from Arafat for gifted high school with honor degree 94.4%. And I was granted to a scholarship for 2 years in EL-UNRWA College pursuing my dream of being an Architect. In addition of finishing 3 external courses of software's used in architecture beside the college. I’ve put immense amount of pressure on my back to fulfill my dreams in my early twenties, having a message of being an inspiring soul of success. I was already in my small circle as three of my siblings want to be architects too! They see how I stay up all night making study models.

Now I’m a third-year architecture student completing my bachelor's degree in the Islamic University of Gaza (IUG). The dream of completing my bachelor's degree in my homeland became almost impossible after the IOF bombed all the buildings of my university and amidst the terrifying conditions we endure daily being stripped of every human right imaginable.

I’m sure you’re aware of the situation we have been living. My words are laconic, but my pain is profound and my mental health has been irreversibly damaged due the state of war. Switching from a person who’s addicted to learning to a person who is thinking of how can I escape death. My dream is completing my bachelor's degree in Cairo university, come back to my homeland and be an active architect in the rebuilding programs.

My target is to raise 35000€, which will be allocated as follows:

(1500$) university registration fees.

( 5000$ ) education fees per year (*4 years > 20000$) as I’ll lose 1 one more year with the courses equivalence due to the difference between the plans.

for life expenses as student for 4 years. ( 10000$ )

Add to that 2.9% GoFundMe would take and the fees on money transfer the bank would take.

The overall sum amount is approximately 35000€ considering the bank my cousin- who's launching this campaign- is engaged which operates in Belgian currency.

Your support could mean the difference between dreams realized and dreams shattered. Together we can make a difference. Together we can ensure that the voices of those trapped in conflict zones are heard, and their dreams are not forgotten.

I love studying and I dream of a life where I can breathe giving. I want to help people to rebuild their homes thinking with them of every detail. I want to see people’s happiness by creating spaces that lies warmth within their souls..

I’m truly grateful for your time, consideration, and support. Your generosity will make a lasting impact in my life, illuminate the path toward a brighter and more hopeful chapter.

Every contribution, no matter the size it will be a step forward achieving my dream

If you would like to confirm the validity of this campaign, you can message Laila on X

Username: Laila_EYO

With gratitude

Laila Auda

[transmutationisms]

In a different ask about Mark Fisher, you mentioned that he “…had some reactionary tendencies that you can see in, for example, the way he talked about 'depressive anhedonia' and what that reveals about his attitude toward pleasure. many such cases on the academic left.” Can you elaborate on this and why do you think it is so prevalent on the academic left?

i guess the more accurate way i would rephrase myself is that this is an attitude common to the overculture and consequently to academia, but that i find to be particularly hypocritical when it comes from people styling themselves as 'leftists'—broadly speaking there's a real fear that 'excessive' pleasure or leisure (this is often conflated with the procurement of luxury consumer goods) is morally corrupting, distracts from or hinders political action, arrests personal growth, &c. often this idea of a coddled, pampered, pleasure-ridden younger generation is explicitly counterposed to a reactionary fantasy of past generations of 'hard workers' who performed physical labour or didn't have ipads or whatever the issue du jour is. it's bad analysis because it blames the nebulous idea of 'too much enjoyment' for what are actually real and pressing political issues: for example, whose labour made the ipad and under what conditions?

there's a huge & critical difference between saying that the procurement of luxury consumer goods for global northerners is predicated on imperial exploitation of the global south, and saying that the goods are simply 'bad', metaphysically, because they make life too enjoyable and people too soft. it comes out of a tendency among academics to a) ignore, minimise, or just not think about imperialism in their attempts to critique capitalism and b) treat the superstructural effects (culture, ideology, psychological experience) as though they are the causal factors, leading to sloppy lazy 'moral degeneracy' theorising that does nothing to liberate anyone and instead just thinks itself into a pit of condescending despair.