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velvetm00light · 7 months

Text

Taken

gif: pinterest dividers: @benkeibear, @mariariley, @haerinism

Chapter Two of Save Me

Previous Chapters: one

Word Count: 3.7k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: You and your team at the BAU come to the disturbing realization that you're the final target of a brutal serial killer. Without any leads, your team determines you need to be the one to draw him out. As you sit alone in your apartment for hours, on edge, you can't help but want your coworker, Spencer, to be there with you. But, is your little crush enough to get you through the upcoming torture?

Warnings: Mentions guns, sexual assault, murder, serial killer, torture, stalking, physical harm, kidnapping, fear. In future parts, will mention vivid torture, PinV, oral, domxsub situations, grief, bondage, physical harm, etc.

A/N: I'm actually enjoying writing this soo much. I hope you all are enjoying reading it! I'm going to write the next chapter in both (y/n) POV and Spencer's POV, so I'll probably post both at the same time!

YOU CAN'T HELP BUT fidget in your seat at the round table as the rest of the team takes their seats and waits for Hotch's word to begin. You couldn't bring yourself to be in the same room as them as they discussed different ways for you to lure him out, unable to listen and play out those possible scenarios out in your head. Spencer at first fought against your wishes for him to discuss with the team, but all you could do was look into his sad eyes with yours and tell him, "I need someone who is going to fight for me. I trust that you will know when enough is enough." He stopped fighting then and did as you requested.

He was the first to arrive back at the round table, immediately taking the seat next to yours, not even hesitating to give you his hand. You took it greedily, needing any kind of human contact to keep your mind grounded, bonus points because it was him.

"Let's get started." Hotch announced, and you noticed that no one would meet your gaze directly as your eyes wandered to your friends around the table. Your heart sank into your stomach and you had a feeling the discussion they had was a hard one. You can't imagine it being easy for your friends to discuss the best way to capture a brutal serial killer by using your life without actually endangering it.

"(Y/), tonight you're going to go home as normal. We have to assume he watches your every move so he cannot know that we're aware of you being his final target. We obviously will not leave you unguarded, Rossi and I will sit down the street from your apartment, Morgan and Reid will sit in the back of the parking lot so they can see anyone who exits and enters. If he's not bold enough to do anything tonight, we will simulate a day of errands for you, each of us posted where you go."

A chill runs down your spine. It's hard to believe you're about to be sent home and expected to act completely normal. To sit in your apartment alone, just waiting for him to try to break down your door or draw you out.

"You'll let me know every hour how you're doing and call Morgan or Reid if you notice anything since they'll be closest. If it makes you feel more comfortable, we can send someone ahead of you to replace your apartment security guard so someone with a little more training is there."

"Yes, please. I think that'll help." You almost whine. The more you sit here, the less you want this conversation to end because you want to avoid going home at absolutely all costs right now. You know you can't push it off forever or else you risk other women's lives. Before the meeting ends, JJ meets your eyes. "I promise you, we will find him."

"We're going to get this sick son of a bitch," Morgan adds. The rest of the team chimes in and you feel grateful to being going through this with a support system by your side. It makes the tight knot in your stomach loosen a little, realizing that you know you're safe with them. You know your entire team would stay up for days on end to catch this guy, and wouldn't allow themselves a moment of relaxation knowing you're unable to sleep or feel safe in your own home.

Hotch sends an agent to your apartment before you to simulate security guards changing shifts. You hope this will be enough, but something deep in your stomach twists anyway.

Before Reid leaves with Morgan to get to your apartment before you, he pulls you into the kitchen - a public place, but with enough cover to make your body heat. The thought of getting caught doing something scandalous sends a shiver up your spine but you quickly chastise yourself. Your life is in danger, now is not the time for fantasies.

"Can I ask you to do something for me?" He asks softly, his face looks battered from stress and you're sure you look the same. "Of course."

"Can you text me too? To let me know you're safe."

"Of course I will." You try to give him your best smile, but it falls flat. His care is warming, but it's hard to feel anything other than absolute fear at the moment.

"You're going to be okay," he promises. He abruptly pulls you into an embrace and you waste no time relaxing into his chest. He smells of almond and lavender. You take a deep breath, trying to memorize the smell of him. Your embrace ends too quickly and he leaves you standing alone in the kitchen.

After a torturous drive home, you pull into the parking lot of your apartment. You quickly scan your surroundings, making sure to wait an extra moment before exiting the car to see if another car pulls in. You spot the car Reid described to you sitting in the corner in the back of the parking lot and you let out a relieved sigh. This whole situation is terrifying and ridiculous all at once. You remember Hotch's words and get out of your car, trying your best to act as if you aren't completely afraid for your life and you're not about to spend the entire night rechecking your door and window locks, making sure all your hidden guns are reachable and in place.

You pass the agent posed as a security guard and trying not to draw attention to yourself as you head down the left hall towards the elevator to your apartment. You would be out of your complete mind to take the stairs in this situation, but you're unsure if an elevator might actually be worse if he were to randomly enter it.

The elevator stops with a jolt and opens on your floor. You take a cautious peak out and check down the hallway left and right before exiting. You quickly make it to your apartment door, looking back to make sure there's no one in the hallway. If you're lucky, he might not know what exact apartment you live in, but then you realize with despair that if he's been watching you for however long, he could have easily seen you enter and exit your apartment multiple times.

You fumble with your keys as you try not to act panicked and open your door. You swiftly enter and lock it immediately behind you, making sure to lock the deadbolt and put the chain on as well. You loose a deep sigh and your eyes widen at the fact that you still might not be safe yet. You didn't even think about the fact that you'd have to check your apartment when you got here to make sure he wasn't already waiting for you.

You quietly pull the gun from the holster on your side and slowly work through your apartment, turning on every light and lamp possible, locking every single window you walk past, checking inside your bedroom closet, the kitchen pantry, the small storage closet just outside your bedroom, and even behind the shower curtain. Once you've decided that there's no possible place for him to hide, you finally feel your muscles relax. You place your gun back in your holster, unable to feel safe without it by your side.

You grab yourself a glass of water and some snacks and decide to stay in the living room. You're able to keep an eye on the door and balcony simultaneously. You don't risk turning the TV on or listening to music to relax you. You need to be at complete high alert until your team catches this son of a bitch.

Time goes by agonizingly slow as you try to keep yourself awake and entertained. A full pot of coffee sits on the counter for you to refill as the night goes on, although you're unsure if you'll even need it. The fear is enough to keep your blood pumping hard through you. You try to play card games with yourself and practice some card tricks Spencer taught you when you first joined the Bureau.

You aren't able to keep your attention on one task for too long, your fear pulling your eyes to scan every inch of the room. You decide to risk sneaking a peak through your balcony curtains. You look out from the side, just barely moving the fabric over so no one would notice a disturbance in the curtains from the outside. After deciding the coast is clear, you recheck the balcony door lock and do a walk through of your apartment once again, checking locks, hiding spots, your gun always close by.

The first hour passes and when your phone buzzes it just about makes you jump completely out of your skin. You reach into your pocket to pull it out and quickly read a text from Hotch, asking for an update. You reply to let him know that everything's normal so far, all possible access points are locked and you've gone through your entire apartment in intense detail.

You remember the promise you made Spencer and text him as well, basically explaining the same thing you told Hotch.

Me: im scared spence

Spencer: I know, that's okay. You're brave, remember?

Me: im trying really hard to be. i can't even turn on the TV or focus on anything long enough without getting worried im going to miss something and he's going to catch me off guard.

Spencer: You're the strongest person I know, don't let him control you. These offenders love control and making you feel helpless.

Me: he is controlling me though. i cant even imagine sleeping, im jumping at every car door being shut, every car horn from the street, every bug at my window. even if we catch him, will the fear ever go away?

The text bubble appears and disappears a few times. You start to wonder if maybe something happened, if they caught someone trying to get into your building when your phone buzzes in your hands.

Spencer: I think we both know the statistics. But, I promise that I will do everything I can do ease the fear and be there for you when it's too much.

You begin to get teary eyed at his promise. Never in your life have you felt cared for or protected. It was always kill or be killed and you fought for your life since you were a child, just trying to survive in a world destined to chew you up and swallow you.

Me: thank you spence. that means more to me than i think you'll ever understand. you mean more to me than you'll ever understand.

You set your phone down on the table next to you, feeling jittery after sending that text. You deleted it and rewrote it about 5 times, but if your life is in danger, why hold back? You also think about how he might try to profile you and believe you're forming an attachment to him due to trauma bonding or transference.

You let out an aggravated sigh and rub your face with your hands. This has complicated your life in just about every way possible and you promise yourself that if you ever get your hands on the man that feels like he can make you cower away, locked in your apartment, you'll make him regret it.

I pick my phone back up and when I see Spencer hasn't replied, I text again.

Me: have you guys seen or learned anything?

Spencer: Not yet. Few people have walked into the building but we're not legally allowed to deny people the right into their homes. You live on the third floor so hopefully that should deter him from your apartment.

Me: hope so. im not sure i could ever come back here and live my life without fear if he chooses here.

Spencer: That's understandable. I don't think he's prepared for his endgame just yet. But I'm also not sure he is disorganized enough to attempt to attack you in broad daylight in a public place like the grocery store.

Me: he abducted those other women in broad daylight in high traffic areas though and no one saw a thing.

Spencer: (Y/n), you're a federal agent. If he has an IQ that's at least half of mine, he would need extra planning. A damn good rouse to lure you away and that's only if he's confident we have no idea you're his target. Don't worry, okay? We will stay here all night for you.

Me: thank you..it helps to know you are here. i don't feel alone in this.

Spencer: You're never alone. Never again, (y/n).

Spencer: As much as I want to keep talking to you to make sure you're safe, I think it's best you focus on your surroundings. Deep breathing exercises actually trick your brain into thinking that you're relaxed and takes your body out of flight or fight.

Me: are those drs orders?

Spencer: Yes, now be a good girl and relax.

Your breath catches in your throat with his last text. It takes you aback at the pure brashness of it, something you weren't sure he was even capable of doing.

You do as commanded and you allow yourself to pull your legs up onto the couch, despite the impracticality of it in the sick chance he breaks into your apartment. You try your hardest to do breathing exercises you found on Google.

You are slightly surprised when your body begins to relax a bit and you feel less at edge. You don't allow yourself to completely let down your guard, but you welcome the slight relaxation of your muscles at least.

Minutes turn to hours and if you didn't have your phone to check the time, you would have thought days were passing by. All you've been able to do is stare at the ceiling when you're not making your routine patrols around your apartment. You feel as if you're starting to get a bit stir crazy.

You check in hourly with Hotch and Spencer, not allowing yourself too much of a distraction. But, as the hours tick by, your eyelids get heavier and heavier. You begin to lower your vigilant wall the tiniest bit. If he wanted to attack here wouldn't he have done so by now?

Me: im so tired.

Spencer: It's okay to sleep. It's highly recommended by every doctor, including me.

Me: alright smart ass. do you think he would've already tried something by now? the suns about to come up and it's been almost 12 hours.

Spencer: Go to bed. None of us are going to sleep so you're safe. You've been through a lot, you deserve some rest, even if it's just an hour.

Me: i guess youre right. ive got all my locks in place anyway and i guess i would probably hear if any glass broke but i dont know how anyone would expect to take an entire grown woman down 3 levels without risking being seen by using the stairs.

Spencer: You don't need to justify sleeping to me. You deserve the rest, no matter what. No justification needed.

Me: Thank you, Spence. ♡

Spencer: ♡

Still a bit weary, you decide to check the balcony and do your patrol once more before you allow yourself to relax. After determining the coast is clear, you decide to finally retire to your bedroom. You unhook your gun holster and lay it on your nightstand, making sure to keep it in reach in case.

You don't even bother changing out of your clothes as you finally climb into bed. You let out a small moan of relief and sleep consumes you almost instantly.

You're taken out of your sleep by a loud thud, confusion overtaking you for a few moments as you blink rapidly around the room, attempting to adjust your eyes to the daylight. You're frozen in fear as your vision clears and there's a gun pointed right to your face.

The man holding the gun is in a regular hoodie and jeans, seemingly normal. You reel your terror back as you hold your hands up in surrender, attempting to make him believe you're willing to do as he pleases in hopes he makes a mistake.

You eye the time on the clock on your nightstand, if you can only distract him for a little bit longer, Hotch will call you when he realizes you aren't replying to his hourly check in and they'll come up here and save your ass.

All your able to do is stare at your attacker and stay completely still. You rack your brain for the best possible thing to say to get him to deescalate or at least lower the gun. "What's your name?"

"My name?" He questions, tilting his head to the side. You thought he might be put back by the question, instead he seems to have gained a confidence your profile suggested he was close to growing into. You suppose he must have had some new found confidence to be able to sneak past multiple undercover agents, and into a room on third floor with all doors and windows locked. He makes no move to lower the gun and no attempt to answer your question.

"How did you get in?" You ask as calmly as possible, hoping he made a mistake that way at least. Maybe your team was already outside, discussing how to play it to where he surrenders. You realize your luck as probably fallen short at the way a wicked smile spreads across his face.

"Do you not want to talk?" You try again. The blog posts he made about you play over in your head. You're hoping he takes the bait.

"Don't you think it's a little late to talk?" The gun stays unwavering in your face.

"What do you mean?"

The smile falls from his face and if you were in a cartoon, you can almost bet smoke would come out of his ears.

"What do I mean? You know what I mean!" He roars, shaking the gun angrily around. You decide to take this as your opportunity now that the gun isn't pointing towards you.

You release your leg from under the covers and kick as hard as you can muster into his abdomen. He reels back and you stumble out of bed and attempt to retrieve the gun on your nightstand when you realize it's no longer there. You spin around in time for his fist to connect with your jaw, knocking you off your feet, your knees barking as they connect with the hardwood.

You sweep out his legs from under him, sending him to the floor along with you. You spot his gun laying on your bedroom floor, right next your dresser, which unfortunately, he is right in front of. Before you can think to hesitate, you're up on your feet and lunging for the gun.

Before you're able to reach it, he grabs you by the collar of your shirt and swings you around and slams you into the wall. The breath clears your lungs and all you can do is fall to the ground on once more.

Blood from somewhere, you assume your face, drips onto the polished floor below you. You attempt to play the defeated victim, hoping it draws him close enough for you to catch him by surprise.

His heavy feet slam against your floorboards until he is right in front of you, gun completely abandoned on the floor. He grips your neck with a strong hand and lifts you to your feet. When he brings your face to his, you spit blood into his eye, causing him to drop you.

You use the few moments you gave yourself to at least make it out of your bedroom, grab a knife or one of your hidden guns, anything to give you the upper hand against a man twice your size and strength.

"Bitch!" He roars, wiping furiously at his eyes as you scramble with the door to your bedroom. You swing it open and lunge towards the closet gun you can think of when you see the open compartment, your gun missing from it.

"You think I don't know every single detail about your life, (y/n)?" He laughs from behind you as you're frozen in the middle of your living room. "I've been waiting for a long time, (y/n). Do you like the presents I left you? I figured I'd show you what I would do to you."

"You have an odd perception of the word present." You deadpan. You scramble to come up with a solution. All your guns are gone, if you run to the kitchen you better hope to hell he doesn't shoot you first or get there before you. "What do you want?"

"You." He smiles, and before you can react he's on you again. As you fight tooth and nail against his raging grasp, you hear your phone begin to ring. You allow hope to bubble in your chest, just a few more minutes, you say to yourself. They'll save me.

When you finally think you have the upper hand on him, he lands a fist to your temple that throws you to the carpet. Your vision spins as you attempt to crawl anywhere but where he is. You feel his laugh in your bones and you can tell he is taking his time taking in his win and the power it gives him. Your sight becomes blurry and you fight as hard as you can against it. But, all you seem to have the strength for is to watch blood spill from your mouth and the wounds on your face, onto the carpet of your living room. You gather enough strength to at least look your attacker in the face and deny him as much of the power he craves as you can. "I'm not afraid of you," you whisper. Your throat feels tight, and it's almost impossible to swallow. You spit blood onto your carpet as you try to relieve the pressure in your throat.

"You should be," is the last thing you hear before you see his boot come down towards your head and the world turns black.

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goldenamaranthe-blog · 2 months

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Who Dares Summon Me: Human Vaggie & Charlie

Vaggie: (sitting in the living room of a piece of shit apartment and reading from a "demon summoning" book. the sound of gunfire and police sirens barely even registers to her ears anymore)

Vaggie: Okay, so I got the Pentagram, a goat (glances at two goat plushies she stole from a name brand toy store) Fuckers will live..... they make millions in a day.

Vaggie: Candles... (glances at the Bath & Body Works, cinnamon and vanilla scented candles)

Vaggie: And... blood.... uh.... (Looks at the bucket filled with water, corn syrup, red food coloring, and cocoa powder to help create a blood effect) Fuck... demons can tell the difference between real and fake blood, right? Dammit.

Vaggie: (cuts her finger with her pocket knife and lets] a few drops fall into the bucket) There. That should work. Now, let's see-

Lute: (comes out of her room half naked and throws a pair of panties at Vaggie) Yo, Vagina! Adam stole your underwear again as a prank, I guess. Here.

Vaggie: (gawks as she catches the garment and spikes it to the floor) Lute! What the fuck?! Can't you control your fucking boyfriend??? How did he even get into my room?! I keep it locked for that reason.

Lute: (grabs a beer out of the fridge, pops the cap off on the counter, starts chugging, and flips off Vaggie as she returns to her room for whatever round she and Adam are on)

Vaggie: Sick perverted sons of bitches... (turns back to the book) Read the forbidden script and make a pact. (Scoffs) Okay, edge lords. I'll give it a go.

Vaggie: (recites the script with some difficulty)

..........

Vaggie: (relaxes her back against the couch) Can't say I'm surprised. I literally bought this online for six-

-Fire tornado erupts from the Pentagram and burning red eyes stare down at Vaggie from the inferno-

Demon Charlie: WHO dares summon the powerful Princess of Hell- Oh, fuck!!! (Trips over the bucket and falls face first into Vaggie's lap, revealing that she is wearing a red dress with black thigh high stockings)

Vaggie: Jesus Fucking Christ!!!

Demon Charlie: (face still pressed against Vaggie's crotch) You have a very comfortable lap.

Vaggie: (grabs demon's horns and pulls her up so they're sitting in front of each other) You're actually a demon?

Demon Charlie: (blinks) Considering the fact that you're still holding my horns, I have this adorable little tail (waves her heart-shaped tail in hello), and I came straight up from Hell because of your summoning circle. Yup! (Sees the plushies and gasps) Oh! You even gave Razzle and Dazzle their own conduits! You're so sweet!

Vaggie: ...........Who?

Demon Charlie: Razzle and Dazzle! You know. My pets. It's written in chatper six, paragraph five, sentence three. (Snaps her fingers and the two goat plushies turn into two living goat demons with wings)

Vaggie: (scouring the book) What?!

Demon Charlie: (snuggling her boys) Also, I know you had to use a little of your own blood to make this work, which I promise to help heal that cut on your finger by the way, but Thank You So Much for just using fake blood! I always feel so bad when people actually use a bucket of real blood. I usually let my dad take those summonings.

Vaggie: (glances at the bucket rolling across the floor then back to the demon) Y-Youre dad?

Demon Charlie: Lucifer, the King of Hell. (Light bulb goes off) Oh! I never completed my introduction! I'm Charlie Morningstar, Princess of Hell and heir to the throne. Pleased to meet you!

Vaggie: Uh.... Vaggie.... I never would have expected the Princess of Hell to be so..... bubbly....

Demon Charlie: I get that a lot. Now! What can I do for you? How can I help? Do you need money? Power? A soul you'd like for me to devour?

Vaggie: N-No... nothing quite like that....

Demon Charlie: Oh, thank Satan! I hate eating souls. Most of them taste so bad!

Vaggie: Uh-huh.... Well.... I don't really have anything for you. I got bored and decided I'd try this out...

Demon Charlie: (disappointed) Really? But you sold me your virginity. Surely, there's something you want in exchange!

Vaggie: I'm sorry. WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?

Demon Charlie: Drop of virgin blood and (holds up Vaggies lavender panties) an article of clothing that covers your most intimate desire.

Vaggie: (silently screaming)

Demon Charlie: H-Hey! If it makes you feel any better, I'm still a virgin, too! (Under her breath) Not from lack of trying on other asshole's accunts, but still....

Vaggie: Ay, Dios mio!

Demon Charlie: Well, I can't take your payment until you come up with something you want, soooooooo! (Transforms into a human)

Charlie: (snuggles up to Vaggie's side) I'll just have to stay here with you until you come up with something!

Vaggie: (catatonic)

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel incorrect quotes #chaggie #charlie #demon charlie #vaggie #human vaggie #lute #adam #lute and adam are assholes #demon summoning

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officialaemondtargaryen · 2 months

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From Her Knees

❝either we're smoking, or we're drinking, or we're at each other's throats. ❞

Summary: You're in a toxic relationship with Aegon.

Pairing: Modern Aegon Targaryen x Unnamed Female Character (no Y/N)

Word Count: ~1.5 k

Author’s Note: This is a rewrite of an old fic for a different character, but it fits Aegon so well that I had to write it for him. I hope that you enjoy it! As always your support through a reblog or comment is appreciated!

Warnings: alcohol use, language, p in v intercourse, oral (m receiving), mentions of previous domestic abuse, they are so bad for each other.

“You don’t do anything, Aegon!”

That was true.

The words she screamed at him usually were. He knew that, of course. That’s why it pissed him off so much. She was always right and she rubbed it in his face every single time. He had been home less than an hour after the shittiest day and she was already gunning for him.

“When am I ever here?” He spat. “I’m never fucking here! And when I am here, I have to listen to you bitch, and moan, and complain, and I’m fucking sick of it!”

That was also true.

He was almost always working; bearing the cross of being his father's son, forced to live a life he despised. It was exhausting, and draining, and all he wanted to do was come home and rest for the few short hours that he had before he had to get up and do it all over again. She’d never let him, though.

“Oh, you’re sick of it? Boo-fucking-hoo, Aegon,” she threw her hands up in the air. “What are you going to do? Leave? You tried that before, remember? It didn’t work.”

She was right again. How many times had they broken up? They had probably been separated more times than they had actually been together. He broke up with her the night before over something equally as futile, and yet, here he was again.

He just couldn’t stay away.

“You’re such a fuckin’ bitch!” He yelled. “You know that?”

Yeah, she knew. She always had been and he always knew it. Yet, he stayed, she stayed. The two couldn’t stay away from each other.

They were moths to a flame.

He threw the door open, marching outside to the balcony, cigarette already lit and beer bottle in his hand. He slammed the door behind him, but she didn’t flinch. She was used to slamming doors, used to him in her face. Their screaming fits turned into fist fights almost every single time.

“Yeah, well fuck you,” she mumbled.

She poured herself a drink, swallowing the warm liquid quickly; it burned the whole way down. His silhouette danced along half-opened blinds as he paced back and forth on the balcony. Through the thin glass of the door she could hear him talking to himself; talking himself through hypothetical arguments while waving his hands in the air as he rehearsed. She didn’t even know why she was mad anymore. That’s how it was most nights. Something so small would trigger one of them, and then one sarcastic remark after the other and they were fighting again. The only time they ever got along was when they were both drunk, high, and fucking like animals on the closest surface available.

He was contemplating leaving again. Contemplating grabbing the keys, getting in the car, and spending the night in the gutter of some bar. This relationship was toxic. It always had been. His family begged him to stay away from her; the ‘narcissistic bitch’ they called her. Told him she was no good for him and that all she did was use him for money and sex. No matter how many times he tried to tell them that wasn’t true, they still wouldn’t believe him.

She didn’t want or need money. She didn’t want or need the sex. Hell, she barely wanted him. She could do so much better, they both knew it. She was beautiful and smart, and had everything going for her. Why she was sucked into this black hole of a fling, he would never know, and at times that made him feel even worse; knowing that she- in all of her holier-than-thou attitude and narcissistic personality disorder- she was still the prize of the two of them. He was just some cubicle junkie who only amounted to anything because of his last name, not because he cared.

Not because he was good at anything.

He came back inside when he was done smoking his cigarette and feeling sorry for himself. She was sitting at the table waiting for him. That was it, that was all it took; either he left or it was going to be World War III. He knew it by that shrewd look in her eye. The one that said, ‘you say one word to me, and I’m going to hurl this bottle of Jack Daniels at your fucking head’. He pulled the keys from the counter and started making his way back towards the door.

“Where the fuck are you going?” She asked him, standing up from her seat at the table and placing her hands on her hips.

He rolled his eyes and stopped. He really, really didn’t want to argue with her. He was tired, his muscles were sore, and he was so fed up with her shit. When he turned to face her, he sighed internally. She looked so cute standing there like that. Like at any moment she could just jump on him and claw his eyes out.

He hated crazy, but he loved her crazy.

“Well?” She drew out after not getting an answer the first time.

She was really trying to start something, and Aegon was caught in a cross hair; if he answered her, they fought. If he didn’t answer her, they still fought. If he left, they’d fight when he came back. Either way, there was going to be a fight.

“I’m getting the fuck out of here!” He yelled, knowing that everyone in their apartment complex could hear him. “Away from you and you’re fuckin’ voice that’s like nails on a goddamned chalkboard.”

All he had to do was say ‘I’m leaving’. He didn’t have to add the comment about her voice. But back-handed remarks were his thing, and he really couldn’t keep his mouth shut when it really mattered.

“Oh my voice is like nails on a chalkboard, huh?” She replied. “You aren’t saying that when you’re asking me to scream for you in bed! And trust me, the only reason I would be screaming is in laughter because your dick is so fucking small!”

She was in his face now, not intimidated at all by the way his eyes darkened. His fists were balled. He had hit her before a few times, and he always felt bad about it. But Gods, she was so annoying.

“What are you going to do? Hit me?” She egged on.

He was seriously thinking about it. Shut her up for the rest of the night. She might even pack her bags and stay with someone else for a few weeks. But he couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t. Instead he grabbed her by the arms and pulled her into him, crashing his lips on to hers. It didn’t take long at all for her to wrap her legs and arms around him.

They wasted no time; Aegon pushed her up against the wall, unbuttoned his jeans, pulled her panties to the side, and spit in his hand to wet the tip of his cock before he pushed himself into her. She gasped, fistfuls of his hair. Her mouth hung open as he pounded into her, slamming her up against the wall with each thrust. Her heavy moaning in his ear only added to the built up frustration that he needed to take out on her. She nibbled at his ear lobe, sending a shiver down his spine.

“I fuckin’ hate you,” he groaned in between thrusts.

Aegon pulled out of her and forced her down to her knees, shoving his wet cock into her mouth. She sucked the taste of herself off of him with pleasure before he pulled himself out and slapped the tip against her cheek, exploding on her face. He stood there for a minute, riding out the climax as she licked the dripping seed from his shaft. Then, she looked up at him from her knees; the sticky white liquid covering her face as she smiled.

This was why he couldn’t stay away.

She stood up, adjusting her clothes, and wiped the semen off of her face with the t-shirt she had pulled off of him. Aegon fixed his pants and plopped down on the couch.

“Grab me another beer, would you?” He asked after a yawn.

She resisted the urge to laugh out loud. “Get your own fucking beer.”

“You’re so ungrateful!” He replied.

“I’m ungrateful?” She started. “I fucking cook your meals, wash your fucking clothes, do your fucking dishes! And what do you do? Nothing!”

She suddenly realized why she was mad at him in the first place.

“Here we go again,” He replied with a groan. “For the last time, I’m never fucking here!”

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a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual · 10 months

Text

More headcanons of the Nimona trio being domestic dorks

Whenever the trio gets sick of each other they’ll ask the person in the trio they’re not pissed at to handle them

It always goes something like this “Ambrosius come get your kid they won’t leave me alone-“ “No Nemesis come get your husband he’s being a stick in the mud”

Or “Bal go get your son from prison he got arrested again” “Oh so he’s my son today?” “Yes when he’s stupid enough to get caught he’s your son”

If you're wondering why Nimona doesn't just escape its cause they find it hilarious when Bal has to come to bail them out at random points in the day

There are also times when they’re proud or happy and they’ll say things like “I’m gonna go get my daughter ice cream” “Since when is she just your daughter?” “Since right now when she helped me fix my prosthetic”

“Hey boss where’s my Nemesis I heard he got in a fight today” “I thought he was my Nemesis” “Not when he puts three guys in the hospital he’s not”

Bal is one of those people who sees something and says “Why would I buy that when I can just make it” AND HE DOES

Nimona has a bad habit of fucking up speakers so Bal just set up a sound system throughout the house

If the trio weren’t such antisocial losers with three friends combined their parties would be amazing

He made Ambrosius a skincare cabinet just so he could put actual medicine in the medicine cabinet

When Nimona moved in he asked them what their ideal room would look like

She gave him a rough draft and he did all of it

They spend a week tearing that room apart so they could soundproof it so she could rock out without disturbing the boys

She has sick ass LED lights and she’ll change the colors depending on her mood

Ambrosius and Bal helped her paint the walls the most obnoxious shade of neon pink And then they didn’t complain when she spray painted over said walls

It’s worth it to see her visibly relax when she enters her room

This man has gutted and put back together and rearranged their little house so many times it’s unrecognizable

I also feel like everyone in the trio is a crafty bitch

They all have a million little hobbies that have produced even more trinkets that fill up their whole house

Their house is this weird combination of comfy yet chaotic and it's a minimalists nightmare

Cleaning is also a nightmare but they wouldn't change it for anything

Back when they were in the institute Ambrosius was a terrible cook -♾️/10 his cooking would put people in the hospital

After the knighting ceremony was the first time he was living by himself and didn’t have access to free food so he taught himself how to cook

Honestly most people would think he would give up

I mean there are only so many times you set water on fire before you throw in the towel

But he's a stubborn brat and cooking took his mind off of everything so he stuck with it

One day Bal came home to the smell of cooking and he assumed it was Nimona

He swears to this day he had a heart attack when he saw Ambrosius in front of the stove and Nimona comfortably sitting at the dinner table not helping at all

He promptly dragged Nimona out of there like a bomb just went off and warned him not to touch Ambrosius’ food

He told Bal “The more you call it a biohazard the more I want to eat it”

So Bal used him like a test dummy

When Nimona finally did try it they turned to Bal and complained that he lied

Bal thought he was being pranked until he was forced by Nimona to try the food

And it was good

More than good I was fucking amazing

He asked Ambrosius quite frankly “Who are you and what have you done with my husband”

Ambrosius just rolled his eyes and told him to eat the food

Bal never gave up on finding out how and slowly but surely he started asking like a normal person

And Ambrosius never answered like a normal person

His answers would range from “A chef never reveals his secrets” (“that’s a magician love” “just zip it and eat your food”) to “I’m never telling you so suffer and finish this meal I lovingly cooked” (“is it still considered love if you knew I was gonna suffer?” “Yes” “…. Makes sense”)

#nimona 2023 #nimona movie #nimona headcanon #nimona #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #ballister x ambrosius #goldenheart #I just know the trio are crafty bitches #Bal dabbles in a little bit of everything #Nimona likes to whittle #Ambrosius likes to crochet #He's made everyone he loves at least one stuffed animal

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feyhunter78 · 11 months

Text

Pink Pastels Pt 12

Description: Gabi has a fever and Miguel needs to go retrieve her book.

Pt 13

Gabi has a fever, a low one, nothing to worry about, but Miguel kept her home from school, so she could rest. He actually enjoys her sick days, not her being sick, but how he gets an excuse to take off work and spend all day watching TV with her.

She snuggles up against him, and eats slices of strawberries he cut up earlier, while telling him the backstory of every show that they watch.

He has her go to bed way earlier than usual, tucking her in and retreating into the kitchen to prepare her lunch for tomorrow. Her fever hasn’t broken yet, but it could in the morning, and he wants her to be prepared.

“Papá, I forgot something.” Gabi’s voice is tinged with sleep, and she’s in her light blue pajamas decorated with little cartoon hippos, her stuffed bear under her arm.

“Forgot what, Mija?” He asks, padding over to her and resting the back of his hand on her forehead, still a little warm.

“I left my book at school, and I need it, or I’ll fall behind the others.” Her bottom lip is trembling, her eyes, just like his, rimmed with tears.

No one likes to be sick, and he knows it’s so much harder on kids because they just don’t understand and don’t know how to feel better. It wears on them and their still developing immune systems.

“I can go by and get it tomorrow, okay?”

She pouts, tears rolling down her cheek as she hugs her bear Oso to her chest. “I need it now, please, I promise I’ll go to bed right now, but you have to get my book.”

He glances at the time on the microwave, six forty-five. It’s not too late, there might still be someone there and if not, he can just sneak in.

“Okay Mija, I’m going to ask Tia Margo to come watch you while I go get your book, but you better be fast asleep when I get back.” He points a faux stern finger at her, and she giggles.

“I will be, I promise.”

He’s lucky, the school is still open, and he heads straight for your room. He’s a few steps away, the colorful paper decorating your door visible when he hears it.

You’re crying.

“I don’t know what you wanted me to do, Todd, you were being an asshole.”

He leans forward, enhanced hearing picking up the other side of the conversation.

“Shit, I don’t know Y/N, maybe humor a guy for once?”

“Humor you? What you said was so degrading, how could you even think that was okay?” You’re still crying, but he can pick out the notes of anger in your voice.

“You’re such a bitch, this is why the guys keep telling me to break up with you.” Todd sneers.

You fall silent, a sob bubbling forth, and Miguel’s heart bleeds. He wants to comfort you, but knows you’ll be embarrassed to be seen in such a state.

“I could get with so many other girls y/n, but I choose you, so maybe act a little grateful?”

“Grateful?” You echo, shock evident.

“Yeah, grateful.”

You laugh, the sound sharp, piercing, like glass shattering. “Fuck you Todd, we’re done, get the fuck out of my life, never call me again, I hope you fucking fall off a bridge.”

Fall off a bridge? Miguel smothers a laugh, now that was an idea.

You hang up and slam your phone down, before sinking into your desk chair.

He peeks his head into the room to see your head buried in your arms, your shoulder shaking softly.

“Ms. Y/N?” He knocks on the door frame, and you shoot up quickly, trying to wipe away your tears.

“Mr. O’Hara, hi, I-I’m so sorry, did we have an appointment?” Your voice is watery, false cheeriness pushing through.

“No, Gabi left her book here, and she didn’t want to fall behind.” He explains, walking over to her desk and quickly finding the book.

“Oh, I see, well she doesn’t need to wor—” You burst into tears, your words lost in sobs.

He moves, leaves Gabi’s book on her desk, and pulls you to his chest. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

You wrap your arms around him, sobbing into his shirt. “This parent, she-she was so mean, and I just want her son to be supported, and then Todd, and he—”

Miguel shushes you gently, swaying back and forth with you, resting his chin on the crown of your head. “It’s alright, cariño, it’s alright.”

You squeeze him tighter, desperate for comfort, and he feels his heart is going to burst. You fit so perfectly in his arms, and you smell so good, that same scent of wisteria and fresh laundry. “I just—she said I was a subpar teacher, and that I didn’t care about my kids.”

He bristles. “She’s lying, you’re an amazing teacher. You love your kids deeply, and they love you.”

You continue to cry, and he cards his fingers through your hair, as he coos and whispers reassurances.

“And Todd, he’s such a dick, and now we’re over, and he’s going to try and turn all our friends against me, and then I won’t have any friends and—”

He pulls back and cups your face. “You will have friends; you are a kind and loving person who is a joy to be around. Anyone who listens to Todd over you is an idiot.”

You meet his eyes, and he feels your grip on his arms loosen. “I—thank you, Mr. O’Hara.”

“Miguel.” He says gently, brushing the tears from your face.

A flicker of recognition goes through your eyes, but then it fades, and you move to step away from him. “Thank you, Miguel. And I’m sorry you had to see such a state, I promise I’m not so emotional in front of my class.”

He doesn’t let you leave, keeps his hands framing your face, and takes a step forward for the one you took back. “No apology needed. I’d like to consider us friends, and it’s the least I could do for a friend.”

The smile that blooms on your lips is radiant, and he stops himself from staggering back.

“I’d like that too.”

He doesn’t want to release you; he wants to hold you forever. Keep you safe in his arms, away from anything that could upset you.

Your phone rings and you turn away to pick it up.

He waits as you walk out into the hall, your voice hushed as you talk quickly with someone on the other line.

You come back in, a fresh wave of tears accompanying you. “My landlord just—Todd destroyed my—evicted.”

Your words are choppy, but he gets the gist. Todd must have gone to your place and trashed it, your landlord got fed up with Todd’s actions, and now you’re out on the streets.

“Let me make a few calls, I’ll take care of this.” He reassures you, pulling you back into his embrace as he calls Lyla, keeping her on the phone and not appearing in midair. He talks to her in Spanish, so you’re unaware of his plan and once she confirms it’s all been set up, he drops back into English. “The apartment next to mine, it’s been sitting empty for months, I’m good friends with the landlord, he’s desperate to rent it out.”

“I have to get all my stuff and—”

“I’ll help you."

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @miggyoharaswife, @badbishsblog, @imisshim2much, @wanderlustingcastaway, @lynn-9703, @sleepyamaya, @erensbbg, @sweetea85, @ilovemiguelohara, @natthernandez, @stxrrielle, @ihateuguys, @jenniferdixon05207, @blep-23, @luvisaaxoxo, @minimari415, @emerald-09, @violet-19999, @kenchosaikuo, @groovycass, @youcantseem3, @lovefks, @nightshxdex, @dusstory, @aesniri, @munsonssecretblog, @kirke-is-my-name, @starbearieee, @chatoicboy, @act1839, @needsleep3000, @totally-not-georgia, @witchy-lizard, @cxmeiloorun7, @justrandomlolidk, @chimpkinnuggies, @alicefallsintotherabbithole, @loser-alert, @wwwellacom, @ryantryan6969, @lollipopin, @blakeaha, @youcantseem3, @a-cult-leader, @verexi, @purpleskiesandroses, @they2luv1naia, @sophiaj650, @idolautism, @rheannajrs, @merakiq

#miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #meg's writing #miguel's pastels #good dad miguel back at it again

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muertawrites · 2 years

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Same!!! I always have this thought in my head of Wayne telling eddy’s girlfriend or Dustin or just a friend “His mothers dead. And his father is in prison for putting her in the ground.”

!!!!!!!!!!!! that dialogue!!!!!!!!!!!!!! tell the duffers they're out of a job and all it took was a fuckin sentence

i can just imagine like. eddie doesn't talk about his family or his past. just wayne. just his life after ten years old or so.

you don't ask about it. the one time you did he got uncharacteristically quiet. his face totally fell and he got really pale. like all the life just completely drained from him.

"i don't like talking about it," was all he said.

so you avoid the subject.

then one day you're chillin at the house (wayne was able to upgrade after the earthquake) when you find a family picture. they're rare, since what few photos wayne had were mostly lost when the upside down became the right side up, but you can tell this one was salvaged. it's of a younger wayne and a dark-haired woman, sitting at a table. in her arms is an infant with a stark patch of black curls.

"that's julia."

wayne startles you, the way he can always move around so quietly. he walks up next to you and lifts the photo from its place on the bookshelf, holding it so you can get a better look.

"eddie's mom."

"... what happened to her?"

wayne takes you into the kitchen and makes the two of you some coffee. he sets with the photo between the two of you on the table, silent for a while as he finds the words.

"julie was a good woman," he tells you. "had a kind heart. too kind. fell in with my bastard brother thinkin' she could fix him. all he did was beat her blind. when eddie was ten, she was gonna leave. move 'em to chicago. rob found out and wouldn't have none of it. beat her so bad she was unrecognizable. neighbors called the cops, rob was arrested, and julia died in the hospital. i thank god every day that eddie was asleep and didn't have to see none of it."

you notice that wayne's hand is shaking, so you take it to steady him. he grips you so hard your circulation threatens to stop.

"i loved julia like a sister. and she loved her little boy. he's the reason that sick son of a bitch will rot in prison for the rest of his life. went and testified in front of a whole courtroom about the abuse his father did to him. was only eleven."

both of you are weeping at this point. unbeknownst to you, eddie lingers in the hall, listening to his uncle's retelling and biting back his own tears.

"he grew up into a good man. got his mother's soul. handsome as the devil like his father without the evil behind his eyes. smart as a whip, too."

eddie clears his throat. you whirl around, swallowing thickly when you meet his eye. he smiles, the expression half-formed and broken at the edges, and joins you at the table.

"it's okay," he whispers. his voice is choked. "i'm okay."

a few weeks later he takes you to her grave. you bring flowers, and he introduces you to her as if she can actually hear him. maybe she can. the spot is so peaceful, you can almost imagine her sitting there with you, kissing your cheeks and welcoming you into her little corner of bliss.

you and eddie visit julia every year on her birthday after that. you pack a picnic, and eddie brings his guitar and you a book, and you spend the day there. he shares memories of her - how she taught him to sew, how she had the most beautiful singing voice, how her pancakes are still the best he's ever had.

it isn't too many years until you're holding a dark-haired infant of your own, propping her up in your lap as you settle into the blanket for another annual picnic. the little girl giggles as she reaches for her father, tugging locks of his mane and grasping at the guitar pick dangling from his neck (he chuckles when she puts it in her mouth).

you lean in close to the headstone and whisper, so only you and the universe can hear:

"her name is julia."

#brb just gonna crush my own soul #eddie munson #eddie asks #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader angst #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson backstory #dad!eddie munson #eddie munson imagine

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slasher-male-wife · 4 months

Text

TWD characters when you tell them about your assault

This is heavily inspired by the post @slasherhaven that they made awhile ago. I've been hyperfixated on TWD lately and I'm still in the middle of watching it, I'm early in season 9 so sorry if these are kind of OOC. Also I am now writing for Maggie and Glenn.

Rick Grimes, Daryl Dixon, Glenn Rhee, and Maggie Rhee

Warnings: Mentions of past sexual assault no explicit details mentioned, murder, canon typical violence, talk of getting killed by walkers, slight season three spoilers

Rick Grimes

When you tell him about what happened to you his heart breaks and he's immediately filled with rage. He doesn't want to leave you alone after you're so open and vulnerable with him about this but he genuinely has to step away to calm himself down about this.

Once he's calmed himself down he'll be quickly back to help comfort you about what happened. Holding you close and letting you vent as much as you need to. Now that he's here he's going to protect you as much as he can and no one is going to hurt you again.

When you give him information on the person who did it to you he thinks not much of it for the time being but when he runs into the piece of filth that hurt you he's seething. But he'll put on a mask until he can really get close enough to get them back.

He's not going to waste a bullet on this sick son of a bitch. He'll made it slow and painful. He'll beat them bloody and make sure they're eaten by walkers before they die.

Then he'll go back home to you and make sure that you're comforted and know that you're deeply loved and appreciated by him. He'll never tell you that he killed them, but he'll always let you know that they can't hurt you anymore.

Daryl Dixon

He's not exactly sure how to go about helping you when you tell him about your assault. Of course he's upset, he's very outraged, but he's not very in tune with his emotions and obviously he's not going to really know how to handle regulating his emotions and help you.

In a rare moment of vulnerability he'll hold you close to him and let you cry out your feelings. He won't say or do much other than hold you close and promise you that no one is ever going to hurt you again.

You gave him details about your assault but he never actually expected to come across that person, especially given the fact that it's the apocalypse. But when he sees the person that hurt you his immediate reaction is to try and kill them.

But he settles on beating them close to death and berating them the entire time about how much of an awful person they are and just how much they deserve what's happening to them. After beating them close to death he'll leave them there and hope that a walker eats them alive.

Just like with Rick he'll get back home and go to give you a hug, which is rare with Daryl. He'll hover close to you for the rest of the day and will be sure to try and show you just how much he cares about you in his own way. He'll also never tell you what he did, he'll just tell you there's no way in hell they can hurt someone ever again.

Glenn Rhee

He's 100% pulling you into a hug when you tell him about what happened to you. He'll be silent the entire time unless you want him to comfort you verbally which he will do if that's what you need to happen.

He'll spend the rest of the day taking care of you and trying to keep your load relatively light. He'll be close to you for the rest of the day and try to make sure that you're not beating yourself up for what happened to you.

When he finds out he knows the person who assaulted you he's livid. He takes them out to a secluded area and threatens them after beating them for a bit. He swears if they ever come near you again he'll kill them.

He personally watches or makes sure that they're long gone before the comes back home to you where he assures you they'll never hurt you ever again. He won't give details but he'll keep assuring you that they'll never hurt you again.

Maggie Rhee

When you explain your assault to her she's heartbroken, immediately pulling you into a hug and holding you there for as long as you need to be held.

If she feels like it could help you she'll talk about her own experience with what happened with The Governor. She'll appreciate how vulnerable you're being with her and she'll feel like she can be vulnerable with someone again.

If she ever comes across the person who hurt you she's going to be overcome with rage and will have to calm herself down to get him back to Hilltop and keep him there while she talks to you about what you want to do about them.

If you want them dead she's happy to help you with killing them, however you want to kill them she'll help, unless you want to do it yourself. She wants to get you justice and if killing them is justice to you then go ahead.

If you don't want them dead she understands that but she'll eventually to it herself. She can't stand the idea of the person who hurt you so horribly being able to go unpunished for what they did to you. Either way after what happens she's going to comfort you again.

#rick grimes x you #rick grimes x reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #glenn rhee x reader #glenn rhee x you #maggie rhee x reader #maggie rhee x you #twd fanfiction

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northsoulss · 5 months

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I don’t know if you request are still open but imagine Elisa de Almeida with S/O that’s really pretty but has a resting B face, always look tired or about to say something rude BUT she has the kindest soul, she always has a nice attitude, and is basically unable so say rude things to son because she’ll feel bad. ( my friend is like this she literally is the nicest human I’ve ever met)

softie - elisa de almeida

(a/n : hi anon! thanks for the request! this is actually my first request so i hope i did it justice! xoxo)

all your life, you have been told that you looked like a bitch by those who don’t know you very well. it did affect you when you were younger, not understanding why people thought of you that way even though you never acted like one. eventually, as you grew up, you stopped caring and instead, you started to embrace it.

you stopped trying to smile more, to look more “friendly”. you started to relax your face, and occasionally get thrown judgmental stares by the general public when you are out and about. especially since you play football, word spreads fast that psg is housing a cold-hearted striker.

that’s what you were known as. “cold”. your friends know better though. they know you were fearlessly loyal, and literally the nicest, and sweetest person alive.

you were known to be powerful and ruthless on the pitch, not taking shit from anyone. however, what the media and the fans didn’t see were the fond smiles shown to your teammates after each game, the gentle acts of services that you always provided; helping your teammates get coffee, being the first the volunteer when people needed help with something. too bad the fans didn’t see you that way.

the day rumours did start to spread like wild fire that you were dating the well known charismatic defender marked the start of your reputation crashing down. there were comments from fans like, “oh my god, how do they even work?”, and you gotta admit that sometimes it does hurt.

whenever you post your usual content on instagram and elisa comments on it with her usual “❤️”, your comment section gets real messy.

it’s easy to say that people just didn’t get why or how you two worked. you, the ruthless, cold-hearted woman, dating elisa, who was charming and bubbly, and to say the least, very smiley.

however, a few months ago, sakina posted on her instagram story a video of elisa just talking, but there you were in the background, staring with a love sick smile. needless to say, you thought the unsolicited comments would start to dial down now that your fans have seen the other side of you, but that was not the case.

“hi baby!” your voice sounds out from the hallway, sitting down to untie your shoes when you feel elisa looming over you. you look up at her with an awkward smile, seeing her with an amused smile with hands on her hips.

“hi.?” you are now confused, and elisa only laughs, taking out her phone and typing something before showing it to you. it was an edit of you, which you were shocked that she watched.

“you watch edits of me baby?” you question, brow raised trying to see her reaction, but she only shakes her head, pointing at the caption instead.

“has our fierce striker turned soft.? what?” you read out, face scrunched up into a frown as you start looking through the comment section. aside from the usual thirsty comments, one in particular caught your eye.

“oh i knew she was a big softie.. what the hell do you mean you knew?!” you practically yell at her phone, utterly shocked. you watch the edit again to see what they meant and you saw it. the clip of you staring at elisa, with eyes practically forming hearts with a fond grin.

“so.. not so cold anymore eh?” she takes the phone back and leans down so that her nose touches yours. she stares into your eyes with her piercing gaze, and you immediately shove her away, obviously flustered. you mumble a “no..” under your breath, trying to continue with what you were doing before elisa interrupted you.

“well, softie. i think things are about to get alot more interesting at our next match.” she hoists you up from the hallway bench and kisses you, lips searingly hot. you only kiss back with just as much energy, groaning when she presses you against the wall. at least now people know you aren’t just some bitch.

#elisa de almeida #elisa de almeida psg #elisa de almeida fluff #elisa de almeida x reader #élisa de almeida #lgbtqia #woso #woso fluff #woso x reader #woso fanfics #wlw #wlw love #wlw post #psg #psg feminines x reader #psg feminines #psg women #psg football

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frankenkyle19 · 1 year

Text

The devils chocolate 🍫

Okay here it is!! Mmm it’s so 🥴 enjoy!

word count: 2.5k (Damn)

description: Tate likes chocolate. He finds chocolate in your closet. He eats it. Why does he want to fuck so bad? Aka Tate eats sex chocolate and gets incredibly horny aka pretend that sex chocolate actually does work this well (from what I’ve heard it does not, but let me live my life)

warnings: use of aphrodisiac chocolates, handjobs, blowjobs, male masturbation, whining, sub!Tate but also a bit of dom!Tate, protected sex (use a condom, be smart), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, that’s all I can think of right now, ENJOY!!! <3

Tate didn’t know what fucking sex chocolate was. He died in 1994 and was pretty sure that sex chocolate was not a thing while he was living. So how was he to know that when he found chocolate in your closet that he shouldn’t eat it? It was in a ziplock baggie, unlabeled and his curiosity got the best of him. As a ghost, he didn’t need to eat, but sometimes he did enjoy the occasional treat or two. And chocolate happened to be one of his favorite treats. You always brought him a chocolate bar when you got back from weekly shopping, but you hadn’t gone shopping this week.

Tate was a nosy son of a bitch too. There was no hiding things from him, because he always snooped around no matter how many times he’d been in your room. It was slightly annoying, but oh well.

So he had sat on your bed, eating all ten mini chocolate bars, grinning. He figured you hid it from him because you wanted it all to yourself, but he had found it. That’s what you get for hiding his favorite treat from him.

He stuffed the ziplock baggie back into the closet and popped back into your bed, curling up on top of the covers as he awaited your return.

As he laid there, he began to feel… odd. A warmth had begun to bubble in his lower stomach. His skin felt hot, like fire almost, and he thought maybe he had gotten sick. But no, that couldn’t be it. He didn’t get sick as a ghost. So what was it?

He sat up, rubbing at his sweaty blonde curls, pushing them off of his sweat slicked forehead as he took a deep breath. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he looked down to see the very prominent bulge in his jeans. Why was he hard? He didn’t really feel horny? He shrugged it off, figuring it would go away soon enough. His forever teenaged hormones sometimes got the better of him, and he assumed this was just one of those times.

But it didn’t go away. It in fact become worse. So much worse that he ached, the confines of his jeans proving uncomfortable against his ever growing erection. What had gotten into him? He checked the time and figured he still had a while before you got home, so why not just rub one out? Sure, your touch felt so much better than his own, but at this rate he didn’t think he could wait for you to get home, plus he was a bit embarrassed.

He shifted on the bed, trying to get comfortable as he popped the button on his jeans. A quiet sigh of relief left his lips as some of the pressure lifted. He slid them down just to his knees, hoping this would be quick and he could redress as if nothing happened. Next: the boxers. They were oddly more wet than usual, his cock seeming to seep pre-cum. He usually did produce quite a bit, but this? Geesh this was extreme. He slid them off, grimacing at the stickiness it left in its wake.

His cock was red, tip dripping and searing hot. Slapping his stomach as it was released from its confines, it twitched, signaling that he really needed to start fucking touching himself before it got worse.

Tate was an impatient person. He wanted what he wanted and he wanted it then and there. Why should he have to wait? So, he spat into his hand before gingerly wrapping it around his engorged length, mouth falling open as a heavy breath fell from them. Your hand would feel much better, but right now his felt pretty fucking good.

A few strokes in had him whining. Tate was always loud, didn’t matter if he was alone or with you. He always made his pleasure known. He thumbed over the tip, spreading the viscous liquid that seemed to pour from his sensitive cock head. God how he wished you were here right now.

A few more pumps of his rock hard cock had his stomach tensing, lip bitten tightly between his teeth as he struggled to keep his eyes open. It felt so good, but at the same time not enough. He wanted you. Your touch. Your warmth.

“Fuck- fuck fuck please-“ he cried into the empty space, bucking into his hand as he got closer to his release.

Poor poor boy. Little did he know you had just gotten home, with his Hershey chocolate bar. If he’d just been patient…

You called out his name but he was so lost in his pleasure that he hadn’t heard.

He also didn’t hear when you made your way up the stairs to your room, a puzzled looking crossing your face at the quiet mumbled whines and pleas coming from inside. Then it dawned on you. It was Tate. He was probably too horny to wait for you to get home and was getting himself off.

You decided to watch him for a moment in silence, watching how his hand flew rapidly over his cock, practically squeezing the life out of it as he got right to that edge.

He was so far gone that when you fully opened the door and stepped inside, he couldn’t stop. He saw you, but made no move to cover himself up. His cheeks burned red in embarrassment, a drastic difference from the way his hand rubbed over his cock.

He looked at you with wide eyes, pleading. He just prayed you wouldn’t stop him. He wouldn’t be able to handle it, really. It would kill him if he wasn’t already dead. Hell, it may re-kill him.

You closed the door behind you and took a step towards the bed, seeing how distressed he was. You’d punish him later, but now you saw how much he needed this.

“Cum, Tate.” Was all you mumbled, all he needed before his hips seized up, head thrown back into the pillow as ropes of hot, white cum spurted from his cock, falling over his chest and hand.

You sat beside him on the bed, marveling at just how wrecked he looked. Panting, sweaty and… still hard?

Sure, Tate had good stamina but it always took him at least five minutes to regain an erection after a release.

He seemed to notice it too, groaning.

“What the fuck- I- it’s like I wasn’t even horny and then just- BAHM! You’re hard… and it feels different. Like more intense. It’s weird.”

His words made you stifle a laugh and he looked at you with a frown, obviously upset that you were laughing at him.

You stood up, walking to your closet and opening it. There it was. The now empty ziplock baggie that once contained your special chocolate.

“Tate please tell me you didn’t eat all of those-“

“I was gonna save you some but it tasted so good- it was fancy chocolate, not like the Hershey bars. I figured you were hogging it from me.”

You held up the Hershey bar in your hand. “I got this for you, Tate. That was for me.”

“Well you shouldn’t have hid it from me. That’s mean, so I ate it. Alllll of it- agh fuck- god my dick hurts-“ he groaned, looking up at you with a pained expression.

“Yeah no fucking shit-“

He looked confused.

“Tate you ate all of them… seriously? Oh my god- you’re going to be so sick-“

“Why? Was it poisoned?”

“No! It’s- it’s an aphrodisiac… the chocolate.. oh Jesus-“

He began to squirm “I didn’t graduate highschool and You expect me to know what that word means?”

“Sex chocolate, Tate. I got it from a sex store because I wanted to try it with you… I put it in the ziplock so my parents wouldn’t see the wrappers.. you..you’re not supposed to eat more than one in a three hours and no more than four in a day… Tate, you ate ten of them.”

“…oops?”

“Do you feel okay?” You asked, voice taking on a worried tone.

“Other than my dick? Yeah I think so. I’m just- really hot- and- mmm can you please touch me? Just a little bit- you can just jerk me off- I’ll take anything.”

There it was. The begging already started. How could you say no to him? Part of you wanted to punish him, but it seemed as if he was already punishing himself. He realized his mistake.

“So it’s like- when a man takes viagra to get hard?”

“Kind of. It enhances things-“ without warning you wrapped your hand around Tate’s poor, hard and dripping dick, causing him to lurch forward. If he thought his touch felt good, yours felt like heaven. He swore it was the best thing he’d ever experienced.

“Can you- s-suck it?” He whined, bucking into your hand. “Please it’s been sooooo long since you’ve given me head- I need it so bad baby-“ the last time you gave him head he had came in your mouth with no warning. You weren’t a fan of his cum, or any really, so you didn’t enjoy it.

“I promise I won’t cum in your mouth-“ he continued “please please pretty please?” He was always so good with his begging that you gave in, leaning down to take the tip into your mouth. You grimaced a bit at the taste of his previous release. Many people liked the taste of cum, but you had just never seen the appeal. Still, you continued down his cock until your nose hit the bush of curls on his groin.

Tate felt like he was having a heart attack. He writhed on the bed, hips bucking into your mouth but then pulling away. It was too much, but it wasn’t enough at the same time.

“F-fuck- fuck I’m so sorry for eating that chocolate-“

“I bet you are, baby.” You popped off his dick to reply before letting your tongue swirl over the tip in a teasing manner.

A tear dropped from Tate’s eye at your teasing. He had never felt this needy or desperate in his entire life. He wanted this to end, but at the same time he didn’t. And all the while a deep ache settled into his stomach. He had taken too much, and it was beginning to border on uncomfortable. He vowed that once this was over, he’d never eat an unlabeled chocolate bar ever ever again. Maybe any chocolate ever for that matter.

He already felt himself teetering on the edge again, already, and cursed himself more for eating that damn chocolate, practically overdosing himself on it. He certainly was paying the price for it.

“Close-“ he choked out which caused you to pull your mouth away, replacing it with your hand. “You’ve got this baby, c’mon, cum for me.” You cooed.

Tate bit his bottom lip hard, eyes welling with tears “can I- can I fuck you too? I think Im going to need to cum again after this-“ he panted, every inch of his pale body covered with sweat as he fucked up into your hand.

He came with a shout, hips bucking out of control as he shuddered from the aftershocks.

Once you were sure you’d helped him through it, you pulled your hand away, looking him over in awe.

“Of course you can, I’m here darling, couldn’t let my poor boy suffer? What kind of person would that make me?”

In an instant you were pinned to the bed, Tate hovering above you as he looked down on you hungrily before pulling you into a hot, hard kiss, teeth clashing and whines being pulled from both of your mouths.

He all but ripped off your shirt, letting the material fall off before he unclipped your bra and tossed it away as well. The next few moments happened in a lust filled blur. He reached into your bedside table and pulled out a condom before ripping off the remainder of your clothing.

“Please can I fuck you? I need it so bad- need to feel you around my cock.” He cried, sliding the condom onto his never wavering hard cock.

In response to his question, you hooked your ankles around his waist and pulled him down on top of you, urging him towards your wet core.

“Of course baby, fuck me as hard as you need to.”

He didn’t need any more convincing than that. He thrust balls deep inside you, giving you just a split second to adjust before he was pulling back out and slamming back into you. It always amazed you how quick Tate could go from a whining blubbering mess to this…

You clenched around him, milking his cock, which caused a loud moan to fall from his lips. He was so sensitive, but he needed it. Just one more. This had to be it, his body couldn’t take it anymore.

His hips slammed into your brutally, his pelvis hitting your clit perfectly, the mix of harsh pain and pleasure nearly making you drool. You loved when Tate fucked you like this. So raw and animalistic.

You could tell when he was getting close by the way his hips lost their rhythm, and his arms got shaky as he held himself up above you.

You pulled him down for a kiss, urging him on as you reached down to rub at your clit, the bundle of nerves on fire and ready to explode any second.

Tate growled at your actions, slapping your hand away and replacing it with his own. How dare you? He wanted to be the one to pleasure you. It forever boosted his ego and edged on his pleasure seeing how you fell apart under him.

When he came, it was with the most pathetic, loud cry you’d ever heard. Tears dropped down from his beautiful eyes as he collapsed onto you.

You came nearly the exact same time he had, body trembling and clenching around him as the coil snapped, waves of pleasure washing over you.

You had to end up rolling Tate off of you over onto his side as he was too exhausted to do so himself. He smiled sleepily up at you, finally looking content. Thank god.

You cleaned him up with a warm washcloth and got fresh sheets and blankets for the bed. You got him a glass of water as well. Though he didn’t need It per say, you wanted him to know you cared about him. Tate loved being babied during aftercare, and you found many ways to show your love to him through these acts.

Curled up next to you, finally redressed, breath having evened out, he let his eyes fall shut. His stomach rolled a bit as he thought about the chocolate. God that damn chocolate… never again, he thought. But luckily for him, if it ever were to happen again (god forbid), at least he had you to help him through it.

#evan peters #american horror story #ahs fandom #evan peters icons #tate langdon #american horror murder house #ahs murder house #ahs fanfic #tate ahs #tate langdon headcanon #tate langdon smut #tate langdon x reader #evan peters x reader #american horror story rp

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kaycode1999 · 3 months

Text

Hazbin Hotel as Brooklyn 99 quotes pt.3

*After Alastor walks through the lobby into his office with a cast on his wrist the whole group gathers trying to speculate what happened*

Alastor: Attention, everyone, I can hear you speculating about the nature and origin of my injury from my office. I tripped over an uneven sidewalk. I did not think it was relevant to your jobs, the jobs which you should all be doing right now. Get to work.

*Everyone disperses and Alastor walks over to Angel*

Alastor *to Angel*: Do you want to know how I actually hurt my wrist?

Angel Dust *Excitedly*: Yes.

Alastor: I was hula hooping. My lady friends and I attend a class for fitness and for fun.

Angel *more excited*: Oh, my God.

Alastor: I've mastered all the moves. [Takes out physical copies of pictures from his coat flipping through each of them] The pizza toss, the tornado, the scorpion, the oopsie-doodle.

Angel Dust: Why are you telling me this?

Alastor *with an evil smirk*: Because no one will ever believe you. [Burns the photos to ash]

Angel Dust: You sick son of a bitch.

#incorrect quotes #broklyn 99 #broklyn nine nine #b99 #Hazbin Hotel #alastor #hazbin alastor #radio demon #angel dust #hazbin angel dust

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narcissusinamirrormaze · 10 months

Text

Agamemnon: I’m the king of Mycenae. What exactly is your job other than being a disgraced prince, a medic and Achilles’ boyfriend?

Patroclus: you just listed three jobs. You want me to have more than three jobs?

Achilles: on the battlefield, being gay has its perks. You’re simply a better person

Achilles, killing a Trojan soldier: move I’m gay

Achilles: do you want to know how I actually hurt my wrist?

Odysseus: yes

Achilles: I was hoola hooping. Patroclus and I attend a class both for fitness and fun

Odysseus: oh my gods

Achilles: I’ve mastered all the moves. The pizza toss, the tornado, the scorpion, the opposite doodle

Odysseus: why are you telling me this?

Achilles: because no one will ever believe you

Odysseus: you sick son of a bitch

Achilles: are you showering

Patroclus: no

Achilles: without me :(

Patroclus: I’m not showering

Patroclus: stop it

Achilles: stop what

Patroclus: stop looking at me like that or everyone here will think we did it

(Achilles grabs Patroclus and kisses him)

Patroclus: well. That’ll throw them off track

#incorrect quotes #the song of achilles #tsoa #patroclus #achilles

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bumblebeesfromvenus · 8 months

Text

Raindrops falling on my Heart ♡

Leon S. Kennedy x reader

A/N: Well, if that weren't a shitty couple of weeks 🥲 anyway, I am back! The Leon brainrot has been eating at me for months and I finally caved, have some angst! With a happy ending of course, because I have a fragile little heart :) I have some more Leon in my drafts if y'all are interested ;) Enjoy!

~ Fi 🪻

Warnings: talks of alcohol being used as a coping mechanism, badly written fight, potential ooc Leon

Word count: 1.1k

Please don't copy my work! I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

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"You always do this, Leon!" Your voice echoed through your shared apartment. "You know that it's out of my control" He responded, frustrated. You scoffed. "You were gone for three weeks. Three weeks, Leon!" You yelled, tears stinging in your eyes. "I was sat here, for three goddamn weeks wondering whether you were alive or not. One Text. That is all I ask. 'I'm save' or 'I'm okay' that is all I want. I need to know that you're alright." You pleaded.

He was gone for long periods at a time and you were a nervous wreck, tossing and turning at night, hoping, praying that your lover was alive. It was eating away at you, hearing that knock on the door not knowing whether it was Leon finally coming home or his officials to tell you that he didn't make it. It was agonizing, really.

Leon, who previously had his back turned towards you, turned around. "Sure, just let me tell the bad guys to stop shooting at me so I can text you. Also, have a little more faith in me, you know I wouldn't go down that easy." He spat back. He shook his head, scoffing. Making his way to the door, he grabbed his jacket and keys. "Where are you going?" You asked bitterly. "Bar" he replied coldly. "No, Leon! You don't get to walk away from this. You always do and it's solving absolutely nothi-" you were interrupted by the door slamming in your face.

Hot tears were running down your face. You two fought like this almost everytime he came back after weeks of disappearing. It always ended with Leon threatening to leave for the evening but he never did. Until today. He actually left.

Quiet sobs were escaping your mouth. You clutched your heart with both hands to help soothe the pain. Your Relationship was really put to the test with Leon having such a dangerous job. It was obvious he couldn't just stop the whole mission, but there had to be at least 5 minutes between saving the world and kicking ass where he could let you know that he was alive. Why didn't he understand that you loved him? Why wouldn't he let you love him? "Stubborn son of Bitch..." you mumbled, tears drying on your cheeks.

Leon angrily stomped out of your apartment building. Having shoved his hands deep into his pockets, he stepped out into the pouring rain. He'd be soaked by the time he got to the local bar but he couldn't care less at the moment. He hated fighting with you, especially over something like this, something you have been over a million times. He kept his head down, the cold rain trickling down his neck into his shirt.

The stores, restaurants and buisnesses that lined the street, cast a bright light onto his face as he looked up, searching for the sign of the bar. He was a regular at this point. Coming in, sitting down at the very back in a cozy corner, and then quietly leaving when he had drunk his anger, frustration and pain away.

Looking around, Leon spotted happy couples roaming the streets on either side. Laughing, holding hands, smiling. It made him sick. How dare they pretend to be perfect when he knows for a fact that they aren't. Every couple fights. How dare they be happy. He shot them a bitter look and went on to get into the warm and dry embrace of the bar.

Reaching for the the door he stopped in his tracks when he heard his name being called.

"Leon.." you spoke, arms wrapped around yourself to keep you warm. "Can we talk? Please?"

He turned to face you. You were soaked. Your wet hair clinging to your forehead and your neck, the flimsy jacket you had grabbed in a rush doing little to keep the pouring rain and cold out. What are you doing here, you're going to get sick was the first thought that popped into his head as he saw you. But he didn't say that.

"What? You come here to yell at me again?" He asked, coldly. You took a couple of steps towards him. "No, I.." you sighed "I love you, Leon. And I care about you. I worry for you. But you just go on your missions thinking you have nothing to lose and no one that cares about you." Tears were starting to roll down your cheeks.

"But I do! I care. You have something to lose. Us. Everything we've been through. Every fight, every sleepless night, every kiss. I just don't understand why you won't you let me love you. You own my heart and take up my every thought. You're the love of my life, Leon. You're my world, my everything. I wouldn't know what to do with myself if anything happened to you. You are loved. I love you. Isn't that enough for you to not storm into every situation recklessly and put your life on the line for-" you were cut off by Leon pressing your head against his chest. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you let all your emotions spill out. Leon stayed quiet as you sobbed into his shirt, your tears mixing with the rain.

"I'm so sorry, Sweetheart" he whispered, you could hear the tremble in his voice. Pulling away from the embrace, you looked at him, seeing the faintest hint of tears in the corner of his eyes. you reached to his face and cupped his cheek gently.

"You deserve to be loved, Leon. Please understand that. You don't have to earn love or prove yourself worthy of it. Being you is enough. I love you." You sniffled, stroking his cheekbone with your thumb. Leon leaned into your touch, placing his hand on yours and pressing it closer to his face. "I-.. Thank you. I love you too. So much." he sighed, a tear escaping his eye.

You gave him a soft, sad smile and carefully brushed the tear aside. "No more fighting, okay?"

"Okay. Let's go home, baby. I think Bingo's on tonight" he grinned at you, placing a sweet kiss to your lips. You two walked home in the cold rain, your hand clutched tightly in Leons.

After a much needed hot shower you were now both cuddled up on the couch, watching your favorite show but basically talking and laughing through the whole thing. You'd missed nights like these with Leon, the cuddling, the loving, the talking. You'd grown distant the last couple of months due to the frequent arguments. But now, all was well and you later fell asleep in Leons loving arms.

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#bumblebeesfromvenus #leon motherfucking kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy comfort #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil leon #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #leon s kennedy x reader

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nalyra-dreaming · 1 month

Note

"... And of course there are some really juicy parts in "The Tale of the Body Thief" that Jacob commented on wanting to do with Sam :) ..."

For people who haven't read books and only watch the series. Can you please tell me what this means? And what was Jacob talking about?

Sure :) "The tale of the Body Thief" deals with Lestat spiraling and deep in depression (which leads to a suicide attempt that fails because he is simply too powerful for the sun to kill him anymore), and being presented a way out, namely a (supposedly temporary) body-switch. Which… everyone warns him not to do, of course, and which he actually does, of course.

Louis and Lestat are… in a weird relationship at that point. They cannot live with each other, but not without each other, and so they live separately, but visit the other regularly. Their own chairs in the other's house, literal "Netflix-and-chill" routines, and so on. They see each other often. Louis of course warns Lestat not do that switch.

(sorry, couldn't indent or quote this, the post wouldn't save, lol)

__________________

"You're out of your mind," Louis said. "Don't be so hasty," I answered.

"You quote this idiot's words to me? Destroy him. Put an end to him. Find him tonight if you can and do away with him." "Louis, for the love of heaven . . ."

"Lestat, this creature can find you at will? That means he knows where you lie. You've led him here now. He knows where I lie. He's the worst conceivable enemy! Mon Dieu, why do you go looking for adversity? Nothing on earth can destroy you now, not even the Children of the Millennia have the combined strength to do it, and not even the sun at midday in the Gobi Desert-so you court the one enemy who has power over you. A mortal man who can walk in the light of day. A man who can achieve complete dominion over you when you yourself are without a spark of consciousness or will. No, destroy him. He's far too dangerous. If I see him, I'll destroy him."

"Louis, this man can give me a human body. Have you listened to anything that I've said."

"Human body! Lestat, you can't become human by simply taking over a human body! You weren't human when you were alive! You were born a monster, and you know it. How the hell can you delude yourself like this."

"I'm going to weep if you don't stop."

"Weep. I'd like to see you weep. I've read a great deal about your weeping in the pages of your books but I've never seen you weep with my own eyes."

"Ah, that makes you out to be a perfect liar," I said furiously. "You described my weeping in your miserable memoir in a scene which we both know did not take place!"

"Lestat, kill this creature! You're mad if you let him come close enough to you to speak three words."

__________________

(This also refers to the contested NOLA meeting right here.) Jacob called their … bickering "petty and in love". They're both not ready yet at that point.

Of course Lestat ignores the warnings and actually does the body switch, and as could be imagined the person takes off with Lestat's immortal body.

Lestat get's sick (as a mortal), and then goes to Louis to ask to be turned, so he can hunt down the thief, which then leads to one of the most raw exchanges (and iirc that power switch is what Jacob would really love to do), because Louis rejects him, though he is mightily tempted.

__________________

"I bare my soul to you and you use it against me!" "Oh, I do not, Lestat. I seek to make you look into it. You are begging me to drive you back to Gretchen. Am I perhaps the only guardian angel? Am I the only one who can confirm this fate?" "You miserable bastard son of a bitch! If you don't give me the blood . . ."

'He turned around, his face like that of a ghost, eyes wide and hideously unnatural in their beauty. "I will not do it. Not now, not tomorrow, not ever. Go back to her, Lestat. Live this mortal life." "How dare you make this choice for me!" I was on my feet again, and finished with whining and begging. "Don't come at me again," he said patiently. "If you do, I shall hurt you. And that I don't wish to do."

"Ah, you've killed me! That's what you've done. You think I believe all your lies! You've condemned me to this rotting, Stinking, aching body, that's what you've done! You think I don't know the depth of hatred in you, the true face of retribution when I see it! For the love of God, speak the truth."

"It isn't the truth. I love you. But you are blind with impatience now, and overwrought with simple aches and pains. It is you who will never forgive me if I rob you of this destiny. Only it will take time for you to see the true meaning of what I've done."

"No, no, please." I came towards him, only this time not in anger. I approached slowly, until I could lay my hands on his shoulders and smell the faint fragrance of dust and the grave that clung to his clothes. Lord God, what was our skin that it drew the light to itself so exquisitely? And our eyes. Ah, to look into his eyes.

"Louis," I said. "I want you to take me. Please, do as I ask you. Leave the interpretations of all my tales to me. Take me, Louis, look at me." I snatched up his cold, lifeless hand and laid it on my face. "Feel the blood in me, feel the heat. You want me, Louis, you know you do. You want me, you want me in your power the way I had you in my power so long, long ago. I'll be your fledgling, your child, Louis. Please, do this. Don't make me beg you on my knees."

I could sense the change in him, the sudden predatory glaze that covered his eyes. But what was stronger than his thirst? His will.

"No, Lestat," he whispered. "I can't do it. Even if I'm wrong and you are right, and all your metaphors are meaningless, I can't do it." I took him in my arms, oh, so cold, so unyielding, this monster which I had made out of human flesh. I pressed my lips against his cheek, shuddering as I did so, my fingers sliding around his neck. He didn't move away from me. He couldn't bring himself to do it. I felt the slow silent heave of his chest against mine.

"Do it to me, please, beautiful one," I whispered in his ear. "Take this heat into your veins, and give me back all the power that I once gave to you." I pressed my lips to his cold, colorless mouth. "Give me the future, Louis. Give me eternity. Take me off this cross."

In the corner of my eye, I saw his hand rise. Then I felt the satin fingers against my cheek. I felt him stroke my neck. "I can't do it, Lestat."

"You can, you know you can," I whispered, kissing his ear as I spoke to him, choking back the tears, my left arm slipping around his waist. "Oh, don't leave me here in this misery, don't do it."

"Don't beg me anymore," he said sorrowfully. "It's useless. I'm going now. You won't see me again."

"Louis!" I held fast to him. "You can't refuse me." "Ah, but I can and I have."

_________________

…. Lestat burns down Louis' little hut after the refusal in a fit of disappointment and anger after. (Not before saving the paintings in it though coughs)

When Lestat finally gets his body back he meets Louis again in NOLA, in a church. Lestat is bitter, and jaded, Louis is just so relieved to see him.

__________________

We sat there in silence for many long moments, and then he spoke. "You burnt my little house, didn't you?" he asked in a small, vibrant voice.

"Can you blame me?" I asked with a smile, eyes still on the altar. "Besides, I was a human when I did that. It was human weakness. Want to come and live with me?"

"This means you've forgiven me?"

"No, it means I'm playing with you. I may even destroy you for what you did to me. I haven't made up my mind. Aren't you afraid?" "No. If you meant to do away with me, it would already be done."

"Don't be so certain. I'm not myself, and yet I am, and then I am not again."

Long silence, with only the sounds of Mojo breathing hoarsely and deeply in his sleep.

"I'm glad to see you," he said. "I knew you would win. But I didn't know how."

I didn't answer. But I was suddenly boiling inside. Why were both my virtues and my faults used against me? But what was the use of it-to make accusations, to grab him and shake him and demand answers from him? Maybe it was better not to know.

"Tell me what happened," he said.

"I will not," I replied. "Why in the world do you want to know?" Our hushed voices echoed softly in the nave of the church. The wavering light of the candles played upon the gilt on the tops of the columns, on the faces of the distant statues. Oh, I liked it here in this silence and coolness. And in my heart of hearts I had to admit I was so very glad that he had come. Sometimes hate and love serve exactly the same purpose.

I turned and looked at him. He was facing me, one knee drawn up on the pew and his arm resting on the back of it. He was pale as always, an artful glimmer in the dark.

"You were right about the whole experiment," I said. At least my voice was steady, I thought.

"How so?" No meanness in his tone, no challenge, only the subtle desire to know. And what a comfort it was-the sight of his face, and the faint dusty scent of his worn garments, and the breath of fresh rain still clinging to his dark hair.

"What you told me, my dear old friend and lover," I said. "That I didn't really want to be human. That it was a dream, and a dream built upon falsehood and fatuous illusion and pride."

"I can't claim that I understood it," he said. "I don't understand it now."

"Oh, yes, you did. You understand very well. You always have. Maybe you lived long enough; maybe you have always been the stronger one. But you knew. I didn't want the weakness; I didn't want the limitations; I didn't want the revolting needs and the endless vulnerability; I didn't want the drenching sweat or the searing cold. I didn't want the blinding darkness, or the noises that walled up my hearing, or the quick, frantic culmination of erotic passion; I didn't want the trivia; I didn't want the ugliness. I didn't want the isolation; I didn't want the constant fatigue."

"You explained this to me before. There must have been something . . . however small. . . that was good!" "What do you think?" "The light of the sun."

"Precisely. The light of the sun on snow; the light of the sun on water; the light of the sun… on one's hands and one's face, and opening up all the secret folds of the entire world as if it were a flower, as if we were all part of one great sighing organism. The light of the sun … on snow."

I stopped. I really didn't want to tell him. I felt I had betrayed myself.

"There were other things," I said. "Oh, there were many things. Only a fool would not have seen them. Some night, perhaps, when we're warm and comfortable together again as if this never happened, I'll tell you."

"But they were not enough." "Not for me. Not now."

Silence.

"Maybe that was the best part," I said, "the discovery. And that I no longer entertain a deception. That I know now I truly love being the little devil that I am."

I turned and gave him my prettiest, most malignant smile. He was far too wise to fall for it. He gave a long near-silent sigh, his lids lowered for a moment, and then he looked at me again. "Only you could have gone there," he said. "And come back."

I wanted to say this wasn't true. But who else would have been fool enough to trust the Body Thief? Who else would have plunged into the venture with such sheer recklessness? And as I thought this over, I realized what ought to have been plain to me already. That I'd known the risk I was taking. I'd seen it as the price. The fiend told me he was a liar; he told me he was a cheat. But I had done it because there was simply no other way.

Of course this wasn't really what Louis meant by his words; but in a way it was. It was the deeper truth. "Have you suffered in my absence?" I asked, looking back at the altar. Very soberly he answered, "It was pure hell." I didn't reply.

"Each risk you take hurts me," he said. "But that is my concern and my fault." "Why do you love me?" I asked. "You know, you've always known. I wish I could be you. I wish I could know the joy you know all the time." "And the pain, you want that as well?" "Your pain?" He smiled. "Certainly. I'll take your brand of pain anytime, as they say."

"You smug, cynical lying bastard," I whispered, the anger cresting in me suddenly, the blood even rushing into my face. "I needed you and you turned me away! Out in the mortal night you locked me. You refused me. You turned your back!"

The heat in my voice startled him. It startled me. But it was there and I couldn't deny it, and once again my hands were trembling, these hands that had leapt out and away from me at the false David, even when all the other lethal power in me was kept in check.

He didn't utter a word. His face registered those small changes which shock produces-the slight quiver of an eyelid, the mouth lengthening and then softening, a subtle clabbering look, vanishing as quickly as it appeared. He held my accusing glance all through it, and then slowly looked away.

"It was David Talbot, your mortal friend, who helped you, wasn't it?" he asked. I nodded.

But at the mere mention of the name, it was as if all my nerves had been touched by the tip of a heated bit of wire. There was enough suffering here as it was. I couldn't speak anymore of David. I wouldn't speak of Gretchen. And I suddenly realized that what I wanted to do most in the world was to turn to him and put my arms around him and weep on his shoulder as I'd never done. How shameful. How predictable! How insipid. And how sweet. I didn't do it.

We sat there in silence. The soft cacophony of the city rose and fell beyond the stained-glass windows, which caught the faint glow from the street lamps outside. The rain had come again, the gentle warm rain of New Orleans, in which one can walk so easily as if it were nothing but the gentlest mist.

"I want you to forgive me," he said. "I want you to understand that it wasn't cowardice; it wasn't weakness. What I said to you at the time was the truth. I couldn't do it. I can't bring someone into this! Not even if that someone is a mortal man with you inside him. I simply could not."

"I know all that," I said.

I tried to leave it there. But I couldn't. My temper wouldn't cool, my wondrous temper, the temper which had caused me to smash David Talbot's head into a plaster wall.

He spoke again. "I deserve whatever you have to say."

"Ah, more than that!" I said. "But this is what I want to know." I turned and faced him, speaking through my clenched teeth. "Would you have refused me forever? If they'd destroyed my body, the others-Marius, whoever knew of it-if I'd been trapped in that mortal form, if I'd come to you over and over and over again, begging you and pleading with you, would you have shut me out forever! Would you have held fast?"

"I don't know."

"Don't answer so quickly. Look for the truth inside yourself. You do know. Use your filthy imagination. You do know. Would you have turned me away?"

"I don't know the answer!"

"I despise you!" I said in a bitter, harsh whisper. "I ought to destroy you-finish what I started when I made you. Turn you into ashes and sift them through my hands. You know that I could do it! Like that! Like the snap of mortal fingers, I could do it. Burn you as I burnt your little house. And nothing could save you, nothing at all."

I glared at him, at the sharp graceful angles of his imperturbable face, faintly phosphorescent against the deeper shadows of the church. How beautiful the shape of his wide-set eyes, with their fine rich black lashes. How perfect the tender indentation of his upper lip.

The anger was acid inside me, destroying the very veins through which it flowed, and burning away the preternatural blood. Yet I couldn't hurt him. I couldn't even conceive of carrying out such awful, cowardly threats. I could never have brought harm to Claudia. Ah, to make something out of nothing, yes. To throw up the pieces to see how they will fall, yes. But vengeance. Ah, arid awful distasteful vengeance. What is it to me?

"Think on it," he whispered. "Could you make another, after all that's passed?" Gently he pushed it further. "Could you work the Dark Trick again? Ah-you take your time before answering. Look deep inside you for the truth as you just told me to do. And when you know it, you needn't tell it to me."

Then he leant forward, closing the distance between us, and pressed his smooth silken lips against the side of my face. I meant to pull away, but he used all his strength to hold me still, and I allowed it, this cold, passionless kiss, and he was the one who finally drew back like a collection of shadows collapsing into one another, with only his hand still on my shoulder, as I sat with my eyes on the altar still.

Finally I rose slowly, stepping past him, and motioned for Mojo to wake and come.

__________________

It's all… very emotional and very raw.

The power dynamics are inverted. There is history between them. Petty and helpless love, too. Desire, passion, anger, love, hate, you name it.

Just thinking about Sam and Jacob doing this gives me the shivers.

(As a side note, we have "artful glimmer in the dark" here as a description for Louis, calling back to "spark in the dark".)

Louis moves in with Lestat (and David) once more after this, into the renovated Rue Royale.

It's where he lives until the events after Merrick, after which they abandon Rue Royale, and Louis goes to Armand to New York for a while until the court is created in the Auvergne.

#Anonymous #asks #ask nalyra #lestat de lioncourt #louis de pointe du lac #loustat #vc #the vampire chronicles #the tale of the body thief #spark in the dark #artful glimmer in the dark #book quotes

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