#•| ⊱ musing ✿ I’m only human and I crash and I break down ⊰ |•

[mollymauk-teafleak]

oh the times that we believed

More of the fantastic @minky-for-short's human Huskerdust painter and muse au! A bit of plot motived hurt/comfort!

Please reblog and comment over on Ao3 if you enjoyed this!

cw: abuse, sex work, it's Angel Dust working for Valentino and all that implies in canon

-------------

Angel wondered when he’d start believing the things Husker told him. 

Some things he didn’t believe and wasn’t supposed to. Husk’s stories from his ragged upbringing on the Strip were clearly bright, shiny pearls formed around small grains of some truth, given to be admired and enjoyed, even if it was artificial. Husk would launch into tales of impossible, artful cons, victories snatched at the last moment thanks to a card up the sleeve, run-ins with the mob where Husk’s life hinged on a dice roll and a mad dash on stage to blend into a big band. 

When he told Angel these stories with obvious delight when the younger man laughed until he cried, gasped at just the right moments, hung on his every word, it was like sitting with a younger version of Husk. He’d see the great showman his lover could have been if he’d had quieter demons and more certain luck, the dreams he’d once had that still clung to him, a jacket he’d outgrown a long time ago. Angel couldn’t quite believe any of those stories but that wasn’t the point of a magic show, was it? 

It wasn’t those stories that Angel struggled to believe. It wasn’t anything big, really. All the languages Husker could speak, the achingly beautiful art he made, the places he’d been that Angel only knew as names in a book. All that he could swallow easily, he didn’t doubt that he’d found something special in Husk, a man made of dizzying highs and crashing lows and interesting stories, like an antique store in paint-stained shirtsleeves. 

The problem wasn’t the big things. It was the little things Husk said that Angel didn’t know how to believe, small handfuls of words he whispered gently or scattered like handfuls of seeds, almost unaware of the blooms they’d grow into inside Angel’s mind. 

 I remembered those were your favorite flowers. I just worried you might be cold. I wanted to let you sleep, I know how tired you are. We can take a break. I’ve got you. I’m here. I won’t leave. 

I love you. 

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to?”

Angel sighed internally and added it to the list, wishing Husk’s love was as easy to believe in as his lies. 

“What do you mean?” he murmured, the question he really wanted to ask but shrunk down small. 

“Well…” Husk’s gaze was knowing, though he didn’t mean that as an attack the way most people in Angel’s life did, he didn’t want to know so he could hurt, “You’ve been sitting in that robe for half an hour now, Legs?”

It was news to Angel, though he wasn’t surprised. Time had always been something slippery to him, running through his fingers like water when other people could grasp it and be sure of it. He’d been prone to black outs when he was a child, snatches of time he wouldn’t be able to recall afterwards, only bruises in the shape of his father’s fists and his sister’s fruitless tears to show him what had happened while he was gone. He’d started escaping into them as a young man, using chemicals to open the doors to oblivion, again relying on souvenirs to piece together the story afterwards when it was safe. When it could almost be something that happened to someone else. 

And now, brain still slick and foggy from the night before, he wasn’t surprised that he slipped away, not wanting to think about what was going to happen when he took off the robe, when Husk saw what was underneath. 

What did surprise him was Husk’s offer. 

“But I’m supposed to sit for you today,” Angel’s fingers toyed with the cheap fake fur that edges his robe, worn flat and matted from how long he’d clung to it as his comfort blanket, “Val ain’t paying you to paint me with my clothes on.”

“And if I gave a rat’s ass what Valentino thought, you wouldn’t spend more time in my bed than you do in front of my easel,” Husk pointed out with a wry smile, coming to sit beside him on the sagging old couch in the corner of the studio.

“I’m coming,” Angel insisted, though his voice was wearing so thin the lie showed through, “I’m just tired. Had a late night, that’s all.”

Angel didn’t know who he was kidding, trying to fool a man who’d grown up on the Strip speaking fluent bullshit, who could see the way his hands were trembling, the way he only pulled his robe tighter around him. But Husk didn’t seem angry or even irritated by the feeble attempt, just studying Angel with a careful, warm gaze. 

“There doesn’t need to be a reason,” his voice was gentle too, light, willing to play along and pretend this was just going to be a regular day, “If you don’t feel like it, you don’t feel like it.”

“You know what my job is, right?” Angel gave a bitter laugh, staring at his hands, trying to force them to relax and not look so desperate, “You know what my life is?”

“Baby,” that broke Husk’s voice a little, the sadness welling up in the cracks, “You ain’t at the club right now. You’re with me, you’re safe here.”

Another thing Angel didn’t know how to believe, another thing to toss into the chasm between what he wanted and what he could do.

“When are you gonna get sick of trying to convince me?” the words slipped out of Angel, past his better judgment, taking advantage of his bone deep exhaustion and clouded mind, “When are you gonna get tired of saying this shit to me and it not making a difference?”

There was a moment of quiet or at least as quiet as this part of the city got, down to just the riot of horns and curses from the street outside. Angel’s stomach went into a sickening freefall, leaving him burning with self hatred. He never could have anything good in his life without bending it to see when it would break, so he could cut his hands on the jagged edges and tell himself the pain had been inevitable, that he’d been right to expect the worst, that he didn’t have to change because the outcome would always be the same. 

“Can I touch you, baby? That okay?”

Angel jumped like a gun had gone off by his ear, the nod shaken out of him before he could think whether it was smart to be honest right now. 

Words were hollow at best and weapons at worst but something about the solid presence of Husk’s hand on his shoulder was more certain, something he could trust in. It hurt, of course it did, there was nowhere under his robe where it wouldn’t, but Angel kept it off his face. He knew it would hurt far worse if Husk took it away. 

“Short answer, Angel? Never,” each word came slowly, like he was checking it over to make sure it was right before putting it in place on the end of his tongue, “Do I wish things were different, yeah, of course I do. I wish you’d never been hurt the way you have, I wish the idea of me loving you and caring about you wasn’t new. But, fuck, I don’t blame you for that, how could I? It ain’t your fault.”

“It isn’t my fault that Valentino has a contract with my name on it?” Angel took a sharp, ragged breath, whipping around to face him, “I was a junkie long before I met him, Husk. My life was well and truly fucked before he decided to make a profit off it. I signed my body over to him and I meant it, how is that not my fault?”

“Because you trusted him back then,” Husk’s voice grew firm, roots digging deep and refusing to bend under Angel’s attempt to wrench it up, “And I know I’m asking you to do the same for me, telling you I won’t hurt you when that’s all anyone’s ever done. Believe me, the asking don’t come easy either. Before you walked into my studio, I was ready to just drink my way to hell and be done with it. Believing I deserve you, that I got any right to tell you I love you…it’s hard.”

For a wild moment, Angel wished he had two sets of arms, one for the part of himself that burned to shove Husk away, one for the part that ached to pull him close, “So why do it? Why try when it’s so hard it feels…impossible?”

“Because you’re worth it.”

Husk said it so plainly, without hesitation, like he was telling Angel the sky was blue, that water was wet. Like he just knew. 

Angel had never had any use for faith, his nonna and his sister had tried to convince him but when he looked at the stained glass, his eyes were always drawn to the snake coiled around the tree, the twisted shapes with horns and claws more than the pure, perfect saints with their palms upturned to the light. Even when he’d been too young to know himself, he had known that when the priest spoke about temptation and deviance and sin, he was talking about Angel. Those were the first words he learned to describe himself and that kind of shame never fully went away. 

But when Angel looked at Husk, he saw something in his eyes that could only be faith. Belief for its own sake, belief because it filled a space inside him, because it felt good when so many other things felt bad. 

“So I’ll never get tired of telling you I love you, baby,” Husk murmured, “I’ll never get tired of telling you you’re safe here. Whether you believe me or not, it’s true and it’ll always be true.”

“Husk…” tears blurred his vision but he still felt that gaze, anchoring him in place. 

He didn’t have the words to finish that sentence, he didn’t know what to call the emotions thrumming in his chest, scared that if he looked too closely they’d crack and fall away. Instead he shrugged out of the robe, letting it turn into a faux silk puddle around his hips, letting Husk see what he’d been hiding from him, why he hadn’t been able to imagine showing him before. 

Husk’s voice was strangled, like something was gripping his throat, something not outside but inside, “Angel. Fuck, what did he do to you…”

The bruises had looked bad that morning when he’d dragged himself upright, showering and dressing quickly so he didn’t have to see them, only feel them, but Angel knew they’d look worse now. Husk’s expression, the tremor in his voice, told him enough. 

“Apparently some big shot was in the club last night,” Angel’s voice was flat, distant, echoing oddly in his ears like it was someone else speaking, “Someone Valentino wanted to impress. I was headlining like usual but I fell, went down hard. No way to recover.” 

He lifted one shoulder, a more misshapen, more natural bruise throbbing like it knew he was talking about it. 

“Val was furious,” he closed his eyes against the memory of flashing eyes and bared teeth, smoke pouring out with every curse and cutting word like there was a fire inside his mouth, “I was in for a beating anyway but then…then I made it worse. I told him I’d slipped because my hands were shaking. I wasn’t gonna tell him why, I’d said too damn much already but…but he made me tell him.”

“Tell him what?” Husk prompted gently, not demanding, just giving him permission to say it. Just promising him he’d be heard. 

“That it was the shakes. That it was because I ain’t had a hit in…a week?”

It sounded such a small thing to say it out loud, a pathetic, scrambling first step up a mountain that stretched into the clouds. Seven days, seven hard, painful, blinding days, felt like nothing to boast about, a child holding up a shiny candy wrapper and calling it treasure. Sitting here, all Angel could think was how seven days wasn’t worth a beating, not when he was just going to fall off the wagon at any moment. 

But Husk’s voice was awed, a tone that would make Angel think of the colorful prayer candles and brightly painted wooden rosary beads in his nonna’s little closet, the place where she carefully tucked her faith and her home away, keeping it safe from their family’s darkness. 

“That’s incredible, baby,” he murmured, finding Angel’s hand and holding tight, “I mean, I’m sorry that asshole flew off the handle but, fuck, I’m proud of you.”

Angel gave a dry, bitter laugh but he held on just as tight, “Don’t get used to it, can’t promise it’s gonna last.”

“Don’t matter,” Husk’s voice was as firm as his grip, keeping Angel anchored, “I’m proud of you either way. For doing it and for telling me, for letting me see. I know what it costs you.”

The smile came easily, easier than it had any right to when he was sitting here wearing nothing but the streaks of tears and blooming bruises, “No more than you’re worth, Husk…sorry, I ain’t gonna make a pretty picture today.”

Husk paused a moment before a light flickered in his eyes, a light that took years off him, that turned him into the main character from those impossible bullshit stories. 

“Well…I’m sure as fuck not lifting a finger for Valentino today, except to give him a taste of his own medicine,” his eyes slid over to his cluttered workbench, deeply stained with turpentine and oil paints, old whiskey jugs and jam jars filled with water in half a hundred swirling colours, “But I still feel like painting. Work with me here, Legs…”

Angel watched in bemusement as Husk began loading the coffee table with half crushed tubes of paint, watercolor palettes that had wept half of their pigments away, his most delicate brushes. He navigated the chaos of his studio almost without thinking, always knowing what he needed and where to find it, even if he never put it down in the same place twice. 

“The hell are you doing, handsome?” Angel tilted his head, putting his arm out when Husk gestured, without even thinking because he just didn’t need to. 

“Trying something new,” Husk sat beside him, dipping a feather light brush into water, then pressing it to a square of dusty pink paint until the horsehair drank the color, until it looked like a flower bud, “Call it inspiration.”

“Like I’m your muse?” Angel flashed him a grin, knowing Husk thought his gold tooth was hot.

“Like you’re the love of my life,” Husk gently touched the tip of the brush to his skin, “Let me know if it hurts…”

It didn’t, the brush was as delicate and gentle as Husk’s own fingers, like it really was an extension of him. A few strokes and that bud bloomed into an orchid on Angel’s skin, with a burn scar in the center. Suddenly it wasn’t where Valentino had pressed the smoldering end of his cigarette to wrench the confession out of him, it was something beautiful. 

“It won’t last forever,” Husk murmured, eyes holding Angel’s, “But neither will the hurt. Either way you’re beautiful and either way, I love you.” 

“I love you too,” Angel’s voice trembled along with his hands, making the orchid dance as if in some breeze, “Can you do more of them?”

Husk raised his knuckles to his lips, “Fields of flowers. A galaxy’s worth of stars. Moons and suns and whatever the hell else you want, baby. I can’t give you much but I can paint you the universe.”

“I’ll take whatever you’ve got,” Angel laid his head against Husk’s shoulder. 

He said it wasn't much but to Angel, it felt like everything.

Every scar, every bite, every bruise was given something beautiful. Some got flowers until Angel was wearing a necklace of them, some became clouds in a sky that began as daylight at his fingertips and ended at night by his shoulder, with every color in between. Dragons curled around some, guarding them fiercely, planets orbited around others and made them the core of distant solar systems. 

Husk painted almost without thinking, like he was letting whatever he felt for Angel spill out through his brush, giving him a hundred other stories than the ones the bruises told. He made him a fae prince with garters of wisteria on his thighs and serpents curled around his wrists, a young god with the world in his palm, a literal angel with a folded pair of gorgeous wings on his back. He was right, they wouldn’t last, but Angel knew he’d always remember. Nothing was going to take this from him. 

And while he painted, almost as great a gift as the escapes he was offering, Husk listened. He seemed to know which scars to ask about and which to let lie, which ones to frame and which ones to cover. Angel told him about the jagged slash on his back, the bullet that had whizzed overhead while he crouched behind a bar in France, after the drag show he’d been performing in went to shit when an enemy soldier felt the knife strapped to his thigh. He told Husk about the pinhole scar on his ear from his very first, very stupid attempt to pierce them, the one that had ended with his sister bending him over the sink and holding her favorite scarf to his ear until the bleeding stopped. He showed him the bump in his nose, where he’d fallen on his face, smack bang into the sidewalk, right off his very first pair of high heels. 

Husk might have been a showman once upon a time but he’d clearly spent a lot of time in audiences too. His laugh was a smoky wheeze, like an accordion with a hole in the bellows, and he used it at just the right moments. He asked the right questions, he groaned and gasped and chortled and made Angel feel as though he was standing on a stage, bringing the house down. And all while he wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing, with Husk crawling all over him to paint his chest, his back, down to his ass and between his thighs. It tasted like relief, to be naked but not offered up, to be exposed but not sexualised, touched but not grabbed. He loved when Husk fucked him, of course he did, but it was nice to know it didn’t have to be an inevitability, something to make him feel more powerful rather than powerless. 

Angel didn’t think there was an end to his scars but, by the time the sky outside was bleeding orange, he was standing in front of Husk’s dusty mirror, a completed work of art. Every mark on his skin, from his childhood to last night, was decorated and adorned and loved. He would cry but he didn’t want his tears to ruin the sets of bright, golden eyes Husk had painted on his cheeks. 

Instead he choked out, “Thank you…fuck, Husk, thank you so much…”

Husk wiped smudges in half a hundred colors off his hands, eyes warm and admiring, “Should be me thanking you, baby. You let me help.”

“Now that I don’t believe,” Angel reached out and snagged his collar, pulling him into the frame of the mirror so he could look at himself and Husk at the same time. 

“Listen…there was something else I wanted to give you, not that you need to take it,” Husk’s voice softened, eyes ducking and an honest to God blush darkening his cheeks, “You tell me if I’m being an old fool here…”

Angel paused, watching his lover’s expression in the mirror, struck with the sudden sense that the ground was about to shift beneath his feet. 

“Ever since you introduced me to your friend, Charlie?” Husk cleared his throat, suddenly sounding like he was reading from a prepared speech, “She commissioned me for a couple paintings of her girl, the mean eyed one.”

“Vaggie?” Angel chuckled, “Yeah, she said she was going to. She’s a generous girl, huh? A toff but she’s nice about it.”

“Real fucking generous. I ain’t had pricetags like that since before I blew it all,” Husk admitted with a small, almost disbelieving laugh, “But…it got me thinking. Between what I’m getting from that asshole Valentino and your friend…well, your contract with the club has to have a price attached, right?”

Angel’s heart sank with the bitter, shameful taste of a dream he’d been a fool to believe in, “Yeah. It was a fortune when I first signed it and it’s only gotten bigger every year. Val finds any excuse to add to it, room and board, make up, costumes, the fucking drugs. When I was younger, I thought maybe one day…but it’s impossible.”

“Not for me.” 

The reflection wasn’t enough anymore, Angel turned and looked at Husk, jaw slack, eyes wide, “What?”

“I could give you the money to buy your contract out from under that creep,” Husk’s voice steeled, a fierce determination bolstering it, “Then you wouldn’t have to live with him, you wouldn’t have to work at his whorehouse calling itself a nightclub. You’d be able to get clean, you could find a new job or, hell, you could still strip but it would be on your terms. And he wouldn’t be able to say shit. And…you could leave the city. Get away from all this.”

Husk’s voice stumbled at the end, the words clearly paining him but he said them anyway, not flinching from Angel’s gaze. 

It was a fantasy, an impossibility, like the things he’d painted on Angel’s skin. And in spite of himself and the life he’d lived, in spite of every second that had come before this one, all Angel could do was ask for more. 

“Or?” he prompted, his voice a whisper like it was scared to be heard. 

Dawn broke in Husk’s smile, “Or…I buy the apartment above my tiny, shitty studio. It’s also tiny and shitty but it’s got enough room for two people. You move in, I succeed in pulling my career out of the gutter and give you the chance to build a life you actually like. I make you coffee and flapjacks every morning, you make me your nonna’s recipes, we go out dancing, I drag you to art museums, you make me go to the ball game. And…and I guess we live happily ever after?”

“I guess,” Angel smiled, feeling his heart crack open, all the hope he’d been so scared of rushing in, “I want that, Husk. God, that’s all I want.”

“Then let’s go get it, baby,” Husk drew him close, his embrace smudging the paint but it didn’t matter, this dream meant more. 

Maybe it was just a daydream. Maybe it was one of those stories too fantastical to really believe, the work of a Vegas showman, a beautiful con, the throw of a dice. Maybe it was another escape into oblivion, an idea that would melt away like a high. Maybe it would fade into a scar or blur like paint under a thumb. 

But Angel didn’t care. If it did fall apart, the way everything had before, he’d still say this feeling had been worth it. 

Angel realized now, he didn’t have to wait until he started believing the things Husk told him. He had to choose to believe in them. 

That's what made it faith. 

[yoonia]

Last Line Tag

Tagged by @lo1k-diamonds | thank you so much, love! And I know that I was tagged by a few others before while I was offline or on break so I guess here it is lol

Rules: Share the last line you wrote and tag the same number of people as the words in the line.

I have a few WIPs opened which I've been working on back and forth today, so I'll share from each one. Maybe I should share a bunch of snippets/longer lines instead while I'm at it to make up for my absence lately:

From Bedroom Hymns [myg]

“There you are, little dove.”  You briefly close your eyes, relishing on the shudder that his deep voice brings. This isn’t an imagination, you muse to yourself as you open your eyes to see Yoongi walking across the bridge. The white mist formed by the flowing water beneath him breaks away with each step that he makes.   “You’re late.” Too many long days, three different trips late. “I almost believed that I wouldn’t be so lucky to see you today before I leave.”

From Ever A Never After [ksj; jjk]

You suck a deep breath, and Seokjin has no idea why the sound you make pierces straight deeply into his chest. Then you make it worse when you speak with an innocent, helpless voice of yours, “Anyway, you are right, Sir. I don’t have anything with me. I left all my gold coins back home, since I thought I wouldn’t be needing it today with the ceremony and all.”  Again, dread fills his chest. “Gold coins,” he groans under his breath with a grimace. He closes his eyes, trying to find that sense of calmness deep inside him once again before it slips away. “All right. Breathe.” 

From Hot Mess [kth]

“Thank you for your concern,” he says, “though I’d much prefer to discuss them with you. Preferably in private, where we can be thorough.”  Somehow, his request unpleasantly tickles your brain, and the sour mood you felt returns. But you hide it with a forced smile and an overly sweet voice when you speak to him again. “I wish I could. Unfortunately, I’m going to need to do some minor adjustments with our setup today and I would like to get things ready before we can start taking photos.”  “I see. That’s a shame,” he mutters with feigned remorse. “Then I guess I’ll have to wait until later to see you.” 

From Chance Encounter [DPR Ian]

“What are you doing to me?”  “Returning the favour,” he says, giving you a quick kiss on the lips before turning away. “You’ve been driving me crazy lately, so it’s time to make you feel how I’ve been feeling.” His words fade into a deep grunt as his lips descend, pressing against your chin before he starts kissing down the column of your throat. 

From Blood Moon Rising [pjm]

“You—”  Pulling himself up from the crashing waves, Hyun positions himself behind a pointy rock to hide as he shifts back to his human form. Only partly, however, as only his long legs appear to replace the fishtail, leaving the twin rows of his sharp fins still visible on his skin, blending into the skin of his thighs.  Lowering one knee on the ground, Hyun remains behind the rock to conceal his nudity. A brief moment passes before he slowly lifts his head. His eyes are glowing in silver as he returns Lani’s soft gaze, the gill slits appearing on the sides of his neck and lower ribcage are pumping with every breath that he takes as he slowly adjusts being on land. His hands, still in the form of a pair of talons, rest over his bent knee as he formally greets the Vampire before him.  “My name is Hyun, the son of Hirae, the former head priest of Siren’s Den,” he introduces himself with a deep voice, soft snarls coming out with each word. His sharp dagger-like teeth peek through the seams of his lips as he speaks. “I was sent here by Lord Jimin to retrieve you, Lady Lani.” 

From Alpha's Inferno [knj]

A mate bond is maddening simply by being present. This bond, awakened after a long period of time, has continued to grow stronger, binding their souls together before they even have any chance to fight against it.  “Why are you fighting it, Alpha?” the pretty vampire asks him, and Namjoon can already feel his resolve dwindling at the sound of her voice. He makes no move as Lani steps closer, her movement graceful and slick. Like a predator, yet enticing and captivating at the same time that he cannot look away. “Is it because I’m one with the enemy?”

(from the two last snippets, I think it becomes obvious why I keep saying I needed to write these two together lol)

Tagging some friends: @beomcoups @shadowkoo @caelesjjk @taegularities @bangtans-momma and whoever wants to do this. tag me so I can see what you're working on :')

[avengerscompound]

The Interview - Chapter 2

The Interview - A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Rating:  E

Warnings:  Drinking, sexual innuendo

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Melody Danes

Word Count:   1947

Summary:  Melody Danes gets the break of a lifetime when as a lowly intern, she’s assigned to write a profile piece on Captain America.  Steve Rogers is a hard man not to fall for and as she and Melody get closer and Melody’s career takes off, jealousy leads to sabotage, and the potential to bring her whole world crashing down.

Chapter 2

“Bobbi!  Bobbi, are you home?”

Melody was buzzing when she got home.  The preliminary interview with Captain Steve Rogers had gone so well, and she currently felt this swirling mixture of excitement, relief, pride, and euphoria inside her.  It left her feeling slightly high, and her hands trembled every time she tried to use them.  Now, she wanted nothing more than to metaphorically vomit out everything that had happened to her cousin.

“I’m in here!” Bobbi called back from her bedroom.

She tossed her handbag onto the table and went straight to Bobbi’s room.  Her cousin was sitting behind her vanity applying makeup, already dressed in a black sequined romper that flattered her figure, and a pair of lace-up thigh-high boots.

“So tell me,” Bobbi said, gazing back at Melody through the reflection in her mirror.  “How was your first big celebrity interview?”

Melody flopped onto Bobbi’s bed with a squeal and kicked her legs.  “Oh my god, it was so good! He was so open!  I didn’t expect him to be so open!  He talked about all the health issues he had when he was a kid!”  She sat up suddenly and clapped her hands together.  Bobbi!” she said.  “We spoke about circumcision! I spoke about circumcision with Captain freaking America!”  She fell back on the bed and kicked her legs again.

“And was he pro or against?” Bobbi asked as she finished off the wings of her eyeliner.

“Against.  He doesn’t understand why society has changed so much that it’s now as common as it is.  Back when he was young it was just for medical or religious reasons.”

Bobbi uncapped her lip gloss and hummed.  “So Captain America is uncut.  That’s interesting.  I wonder if that friend of his is too.”

“James Barnes? I mean most likely.  I don’t think he’s Jewish.  Although, I guess he could be,” she mused and sat up again.  “He’s so fucking handsome, Bobbi.  I mean his skin is flawless. And I know we always see him with the cowl on so he just looks like this square-jawed jock, but he has such soft features.  They’re quite feminine actually.  And his eyes… fuck… Seriously. They are so blue, and his eyelashes are so goddamn long.  He’s really beautiful.”

Bobbi blotted her lips on a Kleenex.  They were now a dark red with a slight glitter to them, making them stand out against the warm copper of her complexion. She turned to face her and crossed her legs.  “Oh my god,” she said.  “You have a crush on Captain America!”

“No, I don’t,” Melody argued, huffing and folding her arms over her chest.  The pouting didn’t last long though.  It was hard to argue that she didn’t feel some attraction to Steve considering how kind and good-looking he was.  “Okay - so maybe I do.  Me and a few billion other people I’m sure.  He’s hot as hell and really kind.  I’m only human.”

“I’m more into the friend,” she said.  “But I did always go for the dark and brooding types.”  She gave a dismissive wave above her head and looked back at Melody.  “Be careful, chica.  You need to stay impartial and if you want this article to be good you have to be able to ask the hard questions. That’s not easy when you’re trying to impress someone.”

“I know,” Melody said.  “I will be.  I am aware of how big of a break this is.  Besides, it’s not a hard-hitting exposé.  I’m just writing a profile piece. I’m not trying to break the poor guy.”

“Alright.  I believe in you.  If anyone can get the Pulitzer and the guy, it’s you.”  She stood up and clapped her hands together.  “We should celebrate.  Come to work with me.  I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Where are you working tonight?” Melody asked.

“Stonewall,” she said.

Melody quickly jumped up.  “Oh, fuck yeah! If I have to sit through vampire dinner theater again, I would have to shoot myself.”

“Rude!” she said and gave Melody’s ass a playful smack.  “You love Dracula’s dinner show.  Now go get dressed.  You are not going to Stonewall dressed like a banker.”

Melody yelped and ran from the room, hurrying to her little nook to change.  She hung up the clothes that Bobbi’s friends had loaned her and changed into something more appropriate for a nightclub.  She opted for a pair of colorful trainers over heels for comfort.  The thought of being on them all night after spending the day in the ill-fitting pair she borrowed was too much to bear.

Bobbi clicked her tongue impatiently when Melody was ready to go, and they hurried out to catch the A train down to Greenwich Village.  The adrenaline high kept Melody babbling away happily all the way down to the bar.  They spoke about the interview, Bobbi’s upcoming auditions, and where they would move when they both made it big.

“I’m just saying that I am sure there would be a really nice place here in SoHo that we could share and it wouldn’t at all be weird that we were still sharing a home when we both are successful and have our own families,” Melody said as she followed Bobbi up to the bar.

“Fine.  We’ll pool out money and buy a huge mansion and you can have the east wing and I’ll have the west wing,” Bobbi relented.  She stepped behind the bar as Melody took a seat, and went out the back to put her things in her locker and punch in.  It was still early so there wasn’t a huge crowd, but it was still busy, with people milling around nursing beers as they talked, or taking photos with some of the historical items on display.

When Bobbi returned, she grabbed a bottle from the top shelf and brought it over to Melody.  Melody watched as she pulled out a tiny goblet-shaped glass, a filigree spoon, and a sugar cube.  She placed the empty glass in front of Melody and balanced the spoon on top of it.  She then put the sugar cube onto the spoon and poured a shot of the green liquid over it.

“Okay,” she said, setting the cube alight.  It began to drip flaming globs of sugar into the glass.  “When you’re ready just pour some water on top and stir the sugar into the glass.”

She put a small glass of water next to the glass.

“We’re doing Absinthe? Are we celebrating or grieving?”

Matthew, a tall, lithe man, with wiry muscles, and a deep umber complexion, stepped over from the other end of the bar.  Melody knew him well, he often shared shifts with Bobbi, as they tended to work on singing bartender nights - his voice was deep and rich and he attracted a crowd whenever he worked.  He and Bobbi had become close friends, and he had been to their apartment for most of the small gatherings she held.

“It’s a celebration,” Bobbi said.  “Our little girl just did her first interview for a proper magazine article.  Not a small one either.  A three-page spread.”

“Wow,” Matthew said, leaning back on the bench behind him.  “That is worth celebrating.  Who are you interviewing?”

“It’s kind of a secret,” Melody said.  It was a lie, but she wanted to tease him with the information.  “Come here, and I’ll whisper it.”

He laughed and came close, leaning over the bar toward her.  “This better be good.”

“It’s Captain America,” she whispered loudly.

He pulled back and held his hand over his heart.  “Damn... Girl!  You did not just drop that on me.”

“Pretty good, huh?” she said.

“Your first interview?  You are going far!  Do not fuck this up!” Matthew said.  “He’s fine… though I prefer his friend.  You know, the one with the metal arm.”

“James Barnes,” she said, trying not to laugh.  Matthew and Bobbi had very similar tastes in men.

“Is he as good-looking in person as he is on TV?” Matthew asked.

“Better,” she said.

“Damn…” Matthew cursed.

He was called down the bar by a customer, and Melody focused back on her drink, pouring some water on it and extinguishing the flame.  “I thought it was illegal to sell absinthe?” Melody said as she stirred in the sugar.

“It’s fine if it doesn’t have the wormwood in it.  But don’t think that without it you won’t get fucked up.  It’s over 60% proof.  Be careful,” Bobbi said.

“You’re the one that served it to me!” Melody yelped.

“Yeah, because you said one drink.  There’s your drink,” she said, pointing to the small glass of green liquid.

She picked it up and sipped it.  The water and sugar had cut through the strong burn of the alcohol and the aniseed and herbal flavor, but only a little.  She threw the rest back in one go.

It went straight to her head, and that one drink became two, and then three.  Then it was dancing with strangers and joining in singing anytime the waiters broke out into song.  Then it was making out with a woman in the line for the bathroom.  She completely gave in to the adrenaline of the night.  Everything seemed like a good idea, and on top of the fact that she hadn’t eaten since lunch with Steve, she was very drunk after not very long.

The night didn’t end until the bar closed at four, and Melody ended up singing on the subway with Bobbi on the way home at half past four in the morning.  She wasn’t home until five and she simply collapsed down into bed, still fully dressed, and passed out.

When the alarm went off two hours later, she felt like cooled-over death.  Her head throbbed and her mouth was tacky.  Thoughts came to her, sluggish and foggy, like everything was soaking in treacle.  It took far too long for her to remember that she had to go interview Steve in Brooklyn today.  When it finally sunk into her brain, she stumbled out of bed.  “Fuck.  Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she cursed, making a beeline to the shower.

She spent way too long in the shower and then had to just pull on the first things she could find, which happened to be jeans and a T-shirt.  Thankfully, her jacket dressed it up a little.  She quickly did her hair and makeup to try and make herself at least look human, and then rushed out the door with her bag, not having time to even make herself a coffee.

Luckily there was a food truck on the corner of her street right outside the subway stop that not only sold coffee but also had breakfast croissants and doughnuts.  Extra luckily there was no line when she reached it and she was able to grab an egg and cheese croissant and a coffee before jogging down to the train and getting on the first one that would take her to Brooklyn Heights.

The car only had a few people in it when she got on, so she took a seat, put on her sunglasses, and began to slowly sip the bitter black liquid hoping it would revive her before she had to see Steve Rogers.  She hadn’t even been on the train for ten minutes when it stopped at the port authority bus terminal.  People flooded onto the train and she focused on her coffee and the last remnants of her croissant.  She didn’t even think twice about the person who was now standing directly in front of her.

“Rough night?” an all too familiar voice asked.

She looked up to see Steve Rogers smiling at her.

// NEXT

[sunburnacoustic]

Muse - Absolution (2003)

After years of waiting, loaded with trials and experimentation, apocalypse finally has a soundtrack. No, it’s not the angsty, heady crooning of yet another musician in love, it’s not the introspective Beatle having seen the Truth, it is not Johnny Rotten tearing down the Establishment (again), and it isn’t the self-destruction a James Hetfield would growl about.

Apocalypse as a genre has been claimed and made a natural home in, and by a seemingly unassuming young band hailing from the idyllic seaside Middle Of Nowhere, Teignmouth, Devonshire in England: alt-prog rockers Muse.

Muse’s 3rd studio album Absolution (released in 2003) picks up on the big sounds and potential the band had been showing throughout their second album and takes it twenty notches higher. The instrumentation is solid, the rhythms are tight, the guitars loud, the sound, bombastic in moments and delicate, vulnerable and beautiful in the next, the lyrical themes are exploratory, and the band themselves seem to find their feet and lay down the foundations of what even today makes up their signature ‘Musey’ sound.

Yet that little summary couldn’t begin to do justice to the grandiose and power this album packs. At it’s finest, Muse take you on a fifty-two minute trip out of the world (quite literally, as the titular track ‘Sing For Absolution’s music video features the band jetting off into outer space to escape the planet only to have their spaceship crash down into a burning, post-apocalyptical London), charming and haunting you with dark, sustained Rachmaninoff-esque piano breakdowns and blowing you away with larger-than-life drums, distorted guitar and bass working in perfect synch to build up a rising tide-wall of sound that may make it hard at times to remember that there are but three musicians in the recording rooms shaking up your world, as singer Matt Bellamy wails, sings and warbles on about facing death (‘Thoughts of a Dying Atheist’), running out of time (‘Time Is Running Out’), meeting up with the Devil himself (‘The Small Print’), and changing the world (‘Butterflies and Hurricanes’), amongst other things, with each song bearing as Muse-like a name as there comes.

And Matt Bellamy, contrasting this album with their previous efforts, said in an interview that Absolution “is more about us being personable, about us being normal people at home”. 

Well, normal Matt Bellamy at home, that is.

The album is introduced with a stomping, twenty second intro, the sound of boots getting closer and heavier, culminating in a single phrase: “Siege heil… marsche!” Twenty seconds in, the apocalyptical themes have already begun kicking in.

But before you have the time to breathe, the first song of the album, ‘Apocalypse Please’ begins, coming right at you with all of Bellamy’s pensiveness and despair, heavy ‘apocalyptical’ piano chords and drums crashing down on you as Matt declares that Earth needs a miracle and that “this is the end of the world”, layering the chorus as multiple Bellamy’s seal humanity’s fate.

The song’s mid/low tempo (around 80bpm) and loud vocals—almost cries of despair, really—and the closing bars with amplified, sustained single bass notes under forceful piano run-up chords, work quite well in conjuring up quite the image the band is looking to build and set the scene for the rest of the album to come.

Following this is one of the singles off the album, ‘Time Is Running Out’, starting with a low, almost choking yet flowing bassline with Bellamy almost breathing out lines like ‘I think I’m drowning/Asphyxiated/I want to break this spell that you created’, a song that starts out soft, restrained, then building up to the chorus as a tormented Bellamy tries to break free and realises that their time is running out, again employing the signature Muse technique of layering multiple guitars and vocals to build up a wall of sound, amplifying Matt’s thoughts, as does its twin later on the album, ‘Hysteria’.

On the titular track, ‘Sing for Absolution’, Bellamy seems to find a Muse of his own, turning inwards to a much more relaxed tempo. The band makes effective use of bassist Chris Wolstenholme’s staccato bass, offset and complemented by the almost dreamlike delayed, echoing guitars and pianos, to cook up an image of a lonely, reflective singer up alone in a room on the top floor of a house, sitting in the faint blue gleam of starlight, gazing out the window into space, thinking about his own life (‘Tiptoe to your room/A starlight in the gloom/I only dream of you/And you never knew’).

On ‘Stockholm Syndrome’, Matthew Bellamy takes the tried and tested ‘captor-and-captive-fall-in-love’ narrative, a darling of writers and musicians everywhere, and breathes new life into it by adding a new dimension of emotions to it, playing on the presumed captor-narrator’s guilt, confusion and sense of hopelessness (‘And she’ll scream and she’ll shout, and she’ll pray/And she had a name’; ‘We’ll love and we’ll hate and we’ll die/All to no avail…’; ‘This is the last time I’ll forget you… I wish I could’)

Muse use drummer Dominic Howard’s drums; pounding, loud and noticeable as a heartbeat in a quiet room; and Bellamy’s trembling vibratos to effectively paint the brutality and vulnerability; indeed, in the last chorus, behind the brute forces crashing on the guitars, bass and drums, one can hear the almost fragile, delicate piano arpeggios in the background, swallowed up by the guitars, almost hidden, protected, in a story that extends beyond the words.

Muse’s ability to switch from a light-hearted, fast-paced tone to a brooding, dark, haunting wail with effortless ease and grace stands out throughout the album and particularly on the sixth track on the album, ‘Falling Away With You’. The song, almost a hidden gem tucked away snugly in the middle of the album, is one of the few times the man who would go on to sing about conspiracy theories, the second law of thermodynamics and uprisings, turns inward and reflects on the people in his life and his relationships with them.

The song’s opening is slightly similar to Blackbird by the Beatles, with a quiet, reverberating guitar over a near-silent backdrop as Bellamy sings about his fears of forgetting a loved one and how relationships change, slowly building up and letting his bandmates catch up in a sort of relay-race, to a chorus that bursts to life with a screaming Matt falsetto-ing to a climax as the band fades to make space for Bellamy to calm down again, and the cycle continues.

It would be fair to say that the bass line drives the next track off the album, ‘Hysteria’. The song opens with a booming bass riff and all the straight faced extravagance that is both the band’s signature and legacy. A three-way harmonic melody solo rages on in the upper octaves that run in the background of the last chorus as a tormented Matthew tries to break free of his inner demons and Muse bring the song to a close in a manner worthy of a stadium closure.

Of course, it wouldn’t be a Muse album without experimentation, and while Muse aren’t recording in zero gravity (for now), the band takes to string arrangements in search of new sounds and avenues on ‘Blackout’, dishing up a slow lament, complemented by fuzzy single note tremolos, and it only gets better on the next track, ‘Butterflies and Hurricanes’, as Bellamy sounds off a call to arms to get up and change the world, and “use this chance to be heard”. The strings create a dystopian air, with a terse, fuzzy bass running underground and Wolstenholme’s backing vocals playing in the open skies as Bellamy commands his summoned army to action. His emotions seem to spill out of his fingers onto the piano in sudden gushes in a beautiful, flying, sustained solo that stands even today as a testament to Bellamy’s superior skills on the keys.

Absolution marks a sonic departure from Origin of Symmetry (2001) in that the production seems a lot more refined and cleaner. The band favours richer, fuller sounds: more gain-heavy guitars and bigger drums that would feel home in arena, as opposed to the “dirtier”, more grungey, piercing sounds used on their previous endeavours.

 However, there is tons for fans of the band to savour (in addition to a very musically accomplished record) on the track ‘The Small Print’. Bellamy returns to one of his pet themes as he takes on the role of the apathetic Devil (‘I’m a priest God never paid’), watching the world and its happenings with an omniscient eye (‘I hope you’ve seen the light/because no one really cares/They’re just pretending’), a nod back to Origin-era songs like ‘Hyper Music’. The band’s commendable execution, both with the lyrics as well as the rough, almost lo-fi edge in the production on this piece make it astonishingly powerful for a song with a niche theme and a simple guitar riff repeating over shifting root bass notes.

There really is never an uneventful moment on the fifty-two minute, thirteen-second record. The band throw familiarity to the winds on their next track, ‘Endlessly’, a song both very predictably Muse-like, yet something quite unlike anything the band had done before. Trading in the guitar for dampened, “muddy” synths, Muse give you the feeling of sitting underwater, drowned in the waterfalls of sound. Synth chords fall silently around you and ripple under the layers of arpeggiated synths that build up the wall of—excuse the pun—endless sound and lock you into Bellamy’s greyness as he promises a loved one the he’ll do anything for them but won’t leave them– until finally deciding that that moment never comes and calming down to a finish, internal turmoil now at rest.

Bellamy, mind wandering like a child, turns to more existential ideas soon after on ‘Thoughts Of A Dying Atheist’, a fast-paced, energetic and curiously happy-sounding piece, musically, for a song that is about an atheist at the end of their life, knowing that what lies ahead of them is nothingness (‘It scares the hell out of me/And the end is all I can see’) and seems to create an ironic contrast between the energy of the song and the narrator’s nervousness that works to the band’s credit.

Muse continue to shock and awe, haunt and bewitch you right up to the very last song on the album, ‘Ruled By Secrecy’. Lyrically perhaps the most quotidian song on the album, this track deals with the pressures in life and realising that you’ll never be on top. Lyrically and musically, it’s one of the darkest pieces in the band’s repertoire, beginning with low, quiet pianos. A ghostly, whispering Matt, sings with sustain and echo, recreating an almost surprisingly gothic, medieval church-like sound reminiscent of the Middle Ages, bringing to mind fear, uncertainty and mistrust (‘they’ll hide everywhere/no one knows who’s in control’), gathering force and building up to the signature piano crashing chord work that defines this album throughout. 

The song, and consequently the album, ends with a final touch to the cymbals, a subtle finish to an album with so much grandiose, its power and assertion leaving the listener reeling and the band flying high on yet another tasteful record successfully polished off.

Watch out Martians, Muse are coming.

------------------------------

A review for Absolution I wrote back in first year in 2018. Happy 20 years of Absolution! I'm happy to note that this time around, with the reissue, Fury will not be left off the album anymore, and my review will (happily) be out of date come November.

[ashdreams2023]

heyoo, i got a bit of a request thats angsts w/o comfort ;)

so i was just wondering if i could request (gn reader) with Loki, this can happen around the time the battle at new york was happening or a different time of event where stuff gets really heated. So anyways reader has those spider powers like peter has, reader had a hoodie with the hoodie covered up their face, unknowingly reader starts fighting loki, not knowing he was a god at first until having it been obvious reader wasnt powerful enough to fight loki so they start to run away to get backup, even though reader isn’t apart of the avengers. Loki seems to have cornered the reader and takes down the hood of the hoodie just to reveal the hero of the town is just a teen, not even close to being an adult.

I tried 😅

Cowards

This was definitely the craziest night in your life.

A lady just almost got crashed by a huge chunk of the building that just got attacked, you couldn’t sworn your ankle was about to break doing that slide to grab her out of it way.

"Thank you" she thanked you shaking in her boots.

"You’re welcome, just go to safety"

Having to be the only hero at the center of the city this very day was not your plan for a nice weekend, nor were you getting killed before you hand in your biology homework.

The silly thought didn’t last long though, a storm of people pushed against you until the brick wall hit your back, you pushed up against it and clicked to the top.

You could see the cause of the mess from there, some alien it seemed, you haven’t seen one of those before, it made you wonder why earth seemed to always have a bad reputation.

Probably from all the waste thrown in space.

Loki blasted one of the statues to ashes, people screamed and ran. Chaos what a lovely thing.

Maybe Odin was onto something when he assigned him to be the god of mischief, those little humans had nothing to protect themselves with, hopeless and weak.

Made to be ruled.

"Hey you! Whatever you have in mind for this planet take it elsewhere" Loki tilted his eyes at the voice coming from above his head. You were just about to land a nice blow but you underestimated your enemy. Loki’s staff hit you with a strange force sending you slamming to the ground.

"What’s this? A hero? How honorable" Loki smirked, strutting over to your limped body, such a pity, one hero and they can’t even take a blast like this?

"I’m not done yet" the taste of blood creeped on your tongue, you haven’t gotten hit with something like this before. Where is iron man when you need him?

You pulled yourself up before he could get too close to you and jumped in the air ready to swing back to get some sort of help, you couldn’t fight him alone.

The building your webs held onto barely kept it together until you swung to the next one.

"Oh. How fascinating" Loki mused posting his staff just at the right second and blowing up the rooftop you were supposed to land on.

Everything collapsed onto the ground, pulling you with it and crashing on top of you.

Loki laughed devilishly, knowing now that there’s no more running, you’ll be at his mercy and soon enough you will become an example of why not to cross him when he wants something.

You pushed the concrete off of your chest, coughing and wincing at the terrible pain in your arm. You broke it.

Your hood barely stayed in place, sliding off the back of your head as you stood up slowly.

Loki pulled you by the front of your hoodie, letting the hoodie fall off your head completely and reveling your face to him.

His sinister smile wagered for a second before it turned into anger, he pulled you close to his face and all but growled at you "A child. This lowlife of a planet is leaving children to protect it" you didn’t understand why he was so angry about that.

"It’s my city and I’m proud to die protecting it from the likes of you!"

"Enough!" He threw your body to the ground and sneered at your shaking form "pathetic Midgardians, I knew they were the crowds of space but this is low. You could kill yourself you twat"

"Now listen here" you gritted your teeth through dirt.

"Save it. I’m not wasting my time on babies, so you better scram out of my face before I change my mind and end you to pieces"

You curled your fingers into fists and pushed yourself up, your head was bleeding now and your lip was busted open.

Loki walked away giving you his back and heading to the center of the town. You tried to not choke on your blood.

"Damn it" you coughed, pulling yourself up again.

[summerwritesfics]

⛓️In The Depths Of Hell

Pairing: Hanzo Hasashi/Kuai Liang Length: 2693 Words Rating: Explicit 🔞 Warnings: Tease and Denial, Danger Kink, Weapon Play, Object Insertion, BDSM, Dom/sub, Bondage, Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Knifeplay, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Hand Jobs, Rough Sex, Cock Slapping, Humiliation, Kuai Liang’s powers are effected by heat, Kuai “Turned On By Danger” Liang Kinktober Day 30: Tease And Denial + Danger Kink + Weapon Play + Object Insertion

Kinktober Masterlist

Notes: Kuai “Turned On By Danger” Liang makes his triumphant return. XD Still can’t believe I’m so close to the end. ;_; I finished writing yesterday and only have one fic left after this. 😭

Blood splashed against Kuai’s face, and he barely filched as he brought his axe down yet again. The oni in front of him fell to the floor like a sack of bricks, only to quickly be replaced with another. Damn it. It felt like they just kept coming.

Hanzo was off to his side, slicing through oni with his sword like they were butter. In the Netherrealm, Hanzo flourished, no matter how much of his humanity he regained, it seemed the hellfires would always be a part of him. Kuai on the other hand was suffering. Extreme heat weakened him, and while he usually disliked taking missions here for that reason, this time his assistance was essential. He was the only one who knew where this abandoned fortress lay, having been sent to eliminate it’s previous inhabitance during his time as a revenant. If he’d known the Grimoire within would turn out to be so important, he’d have grabbed it years ago.

It would have been okay if they’d just managed to get to the fortress without running into any enemies. But that clearly wasn’t meant to be, and now Kuai was struggling while trying to take them on.

The axe crashed through another oni, finally breaking apart in his hands. He looked up, wiping his brow both because of sweat and the blood. Three more oni were stalking towards him.

“Oh you have got to be kidding me,” his hissed, taking a few tentative steps back. He could feel the sweat prickling at his skin, he was dangerously close to overheating. “Hanzo!”

“God this takes me back,” Hanzo loudly mused as he cut the head off one of their attackers. He laughed as he kicked the remaining body out of the way. “Nothing like tearing down your enemies to remind you that you’re alive.”

”Hanzo!” Kuai stressed, trying to make it clear he was in need of assistance.

One of the Oni launched itself at him. His attempt to summon a sword came up short when he found himself being lifted into the air. Ice shot out from between his fingers, but it was barely enough to freeze even the Oni’s shoulder. Before he knew what was happening he felt himself being slammed against something solid.

His vision blurred, only just making out the shape of the Oni above him. He tried to move his arms, finding his head was spinning. There was the sound of flesh ripping, as the Oni was torn in two above him. Yet more blood spilled down on to him as the  body was thrown away. His vision blurred just as a figure knelt down to him, pressing a hand against his cheek.

“Kuai Liang? Are you okay?” Hanzo asked, trying to pull Kuai up. He just about found the strength to reach a hand to Hanzo’s shoulder.

“Have I ever mentioned that I fucking hate the Netherrealm?” Kuai asked, feeling Hanzo haul him up.

“Maybe once or twice.” The world flipped up and down, and the next thing Kuai knew they were in a small cave. “I know this place doesn’t exactly suit you.” He set Kuai down on the floor, hands touching all over looking for injuries. “I’m sorry, you know I wouldn’t have asked you if your help wasn’t necessary.”

“I know.” Kuai winced, he rubbed his temple. This really was the worst. “We were so close.”

“We should rest for a moment,” Hanzo claimed, stroking Kuai’s hair from his face. He hadn’t realises it was starting to stick from how much sweat there was. “That Grimoire can wait.”

Hanzo’s hand squeezed Kuai’s hip, he bit his lip to stifle a groan.

“Did that hurt?” Hanzo asked concerned, although that dissolved when Kuai began to grin at him.

“No, just funny that even when we’re in grave danger you can’t keep your hands off me.” Kuai laughed at the way Hanzo’s face dropped in disbelief. “And I have been told I look quite fetching with blood on my face.”

“Sometimes you act so much like a normal human, I forget you’re practically a succubus.” Hanzo’s hand let go of his hip, reaching up to wrap around Kuai’s neck instead. “Are you really sure you want me here? You’re not exactly at your strongest.”

Kuai brought up his leg, pressing his thigh against Hanzo’s crotch. He watched as Hanzo’s eyes widen as he pressed harder.

“When has that ever stopped me?” Kuai smirked when he could feel Hanzo’s cock through his trousers, and began to grin slightly. “Besides, feel like you’re as turned on by the danger we’re in as I am.”

Hanzo huffed, rutting against Kuai’s thigh as if to assert his dominance. Kuai began to laugh, even as Hanzo snarled and pushed him down against the ground.

“Well, if you’re that into the danger we’re in, maybe we should up the stakes even further?” He reached to his belt as Kuai raised an eyebrow. Grabbing his kunai from his belt, Hanzo held up the chain to Kuai. His intent was clear. Kuai gave an affirmative nod.

Hanzo sprung into action, reaching for Kuai’s arms and wrapped the chains around his forearms. Kuai let him do it, and once his arms were tangled, Hanzo took the kunai in his hands. Trailing the tip up Kuai’s throat, before bringing it to his face, tapping it against Kuai’s lips. Despite being confused Kuai opened his mouth, to find his tongue meet metal. He whined, closing his mouth around the chain now resting in his mouth, Kunai dangling by his cheek.

“Good boy,” Hanzo complimented, patting Kuai’s head a couple of times.

Hanzo’s hands traveled down, reaching for Kuai’s belt, but rather than undoing it, he found a small vial of oil Kuai kept tucked away. Once that had been retrieved, Hanzo unhooked Kuai’s belt, roughly pulling Kuai’s pants and underwear down until he was bared for him. Kuai groaned, opening his legs and blinking at Hanzo as if to plead his case.

Hanzo reached for the oil, pouring some over his fingers. One finger reached down to press into Kuai’s hole, it seemed Hanzo wasn’t too keen on dragging this out. Kuai supposed he didn’t have much choice, given the situation they were in.

Hanzo pushed his finger all the way in, before pulling out. Despite how impatient he was being, he was still gentle, careful not to cause any pain. Kuai’s teeth dug into the chains, as he craned his head to watch Hanzo. He groaned as Hanzo’s finger began to pump in and out of him. It wasn’t long before Hanzo was pushing a second finger in, and Kuai groaned at the stretch.

The waiting was unbearable. Hanzo pressed a third finger in, thrusting it back before he stared at what he was doing with a frown. It looked like a thought was occurring to him, and Kuai was curious what it was.

“What would you say to an experiment?” Hanzo asked and Kuai lifted an eyebrow to show he was interested.

Pulling his fingers free, Hanzo reached for his belt, grabbing his katana and while still in it’s sheath, he held it up. Kuai blinked and did not understand. Hanzo reached for the oil, pouring some over the handle of the sword.

Oh.

Kuai watched as the oil dribbled down the handle, and he swallowed at the thought of that inside of him. When Hanzo looked to him for an answer, Kuai tried not to nod too eagerly. Still Hanzo laughed at how readily Kuai agreed to it.

Using a hand he made sure the oil was spread along the entire length of the handle. Once he was sure, he brought it low, and Kuai could feel it begin to push against his hole. He took a deep breath as he it begin to breech him. As he lay there, concentrating on the sensation of it slowly slip further into him, he realised it didn’t feel too much different than using a dildo, aside from the texture.

“Fuck, look at you,” Hanzo growled, twisting the sword and making Kuai squirm. Hanzo reached a hand and pushed down on Kuai’s hip to keep him still. “Such a slut, it doesn’t matter what I fuck you with does it? You’ll enjoy anything I do to you.”

Kuai gurgled in agreement, settling back and breathing out. His arms pulled on the chains slightly, as Hanzo begun to push the katana in and out of him. Hanzo’s eyes were between his legs, fixated on the way Kuai’s hole stretched around it. The hand on his hip trailed across to Kuai’s cock. He wrapped his hand around it, and Kuai sucked in a breath as the katana hit a certain spot inside him.

The laugh Hanzo gave was cruel, and Kuai couldn’t help but feel heat blossom in his cheeks.

Hanzo’s hand began to stroke Kuai’s cock in tandem with how he moved the katana. Kuai’s toes curled and he screwed his eyes shut slightly. Seconds later the hand let go of his cock and slapped it instead. His eyes shot open, and he looked down in time for Hanzo’s to slap it again.

“Eyes open,” he warned, roughly thrusting the katana and making Kuai squirm. Hand returned to wrap around Kuai’s cock. “You wanted this, don’t forget that.”

Kuai groaned, bringing his legs up as Hanzo’s hand returned to it’s movements. His thumb rolled long the head for a second, before it was traveling back down to the base. All the while, Hanzo continued to push the katana in and out. A knot was forming in Kuai’s stomach, his breathing getting laboured.

And then just before Kuai could cum, Hanzo let go.

Kuai whined behind the chain, causing Hanzo to give another dark chuckle, as his hand came down against Kuai’s cock two more times in quick succession.

“It’s always amusing how you can’t take what you dish out,” Hanzo growled, teasing at Kuai’s cock with a single finger. The katana twisted inside him again, causing Kuai’s legs to jerk. “Let’s see how long you can last, hm?”

Kuai struggled to keep his eyes open while Hanzo returned his attention to Kuai’s cock. Fingers traced up his skin, squeezing down and gently tugging on the skin. Meanwhile that Katana continued to thrust in and out, and Kuai strained against the chains. Right at his peak, Hanzo let go, bringing his hand to slap Kuai’s cock again.

The katana stilled inside him, as Hanzo’s attention was draw to just Kuai’s cock. His fingers trailed along, too light to do anything but lightly tickle, but definitely enough for him to feel it. Kuai’s chest heaved as he felt sweat trickle down his forehead, though if it was from his desperation or the heat he wasn’t sure. Hanzo’s finger teased at Kuai’s slit, before he brought his hand down yet again.

“If we weren’t in the Netherrealm, I might be tempted to leave you like this,” Hanzo started, hand connecting with Kuai’s cock again. “I can’t believe how hard you are from being fucked with a sword.” Kuai groaned and arched his back, the degrading comment adding to the warmth of his face. The handle was turned the other way, and Kuai felt more humiliation at how precum dribbled out of his cock. “You truly are shameless, aren’t you?”

Kuai closed his eyes again turning his head. They didn’t stay closed long as Hanzo smacked his cock again. Once they were open, Kuai could see Hanzo was undoing his belt, adjusting himself until his cock was out. He grabbed the oil again, pouring it over himself. Satisfied, Hanzo then reached down for the katana, slowly pulling it out. Kuai stayed empty for all of a minute, if that, as Hanzo lent over him and pushed his cock inside instead. A full body shudder overtook him.

Hanzo thrust a few times, before stilling inside him. His hand reached for the chains in Kuai’s mouth, pulling them free. Kuai didn’t have enough time to question it before the handle of the katana was pushed against his lips. His eyes widened, and despite his surprise, his mouth opened. He handle found it’s way inside, and he gagged both at the taste and the way it hit the back of his throat. It was a lot more rigid than the things he usually had in his mouth.

“Not often I see you gag,” Hanzo hummed, moving the katana in and out, and causing Kuai to repeat the desired reaction. “Clean my katana off.”

Kuai blinked to indicate he understood, before hollowing out his cheeks and pursing his lips around the handle. Hanzo began to move his hips, fucking into Kuai with force. Every time he slammed forward, he pushed the katana deeper into Kuai’s mouth, and pulled out at the same time too. He didn’t go too fast, clearly concerned about accidentally knocking or chipping Kuai’s teeth.

Kuai concentrated on the katana and the feeling of Hanzo’s cock ramming into his prostate. His tongue trailed along the katana, treating it like he would a dick. If the perverse grin on Hanzo’s face was anything to go by, this was the correct course of action. Kuai couldn’t believe how amazing it felt to feel so utterly powerless.

He could feel himself reaching his limit, and he blinked in rapid succession to warn Hanzo, unsure if he’d want him to cum before him.

“Hm? What’s that? Are you going to cum?” Hanzo questioned with a well aimed jerk of his hips. Kuai whined in response. “Gods, do it. Cum while deep throating my sword.”

The sword was pushed in as far as Hanzo seemed to dare, just tickling the back of Kuai’s throat, threatening to choke him but still allowing him to breath. And then he started pounding away with reckless abandon, no longer worried about harming Kuai with the sword still. Kuai’s hands clenched, and he felt tears welling in the corners of his eyes.

His body jerked upwards as finally he came, so forcefully he was sure he hit Hanzo’s clothes above him. He didn’t get time to relax, even as Hanzo finally pulled the sword out. With both his hands free, Hanzo grabbed Kuai’s hips and continued his assault. With the extra stimulation he could feel himself very quickly building to the peak again. His second orgasm was torn from him so suddenly he audibly screeched with it. He clenched down on Hanzo’s cock, still pounding away at him and Kuai wasn’t sure how much longer the other man could last. They were in the Netherrealm, for all Kuai knew Hanzo’s strength could be so great he could go for hours.

He did get his answer when he realised Hanzo’s thrusts were getting uneven. Not seconds after that revelation, Hanzo gave a large thrust, and Kuai felt a wet heat begin to fill inside of him. Hanzo groaned, fingers digging into Kuai’s skin as he thrust a few more times.

As he pulled out, Kuai gave a sigh of relief, thinking about how his hole was throbbing from the experience. The chains were being pulled off his arms, and then hands were on his face as Hanzo looked down at him.

“Are you okay?” Hanzo questioned, and Kuai couldn’t help but smile up at him.

“I’m good.” He wasn’t sure how much Hanzo believed that, given that his voice sounded rough and uneven. “We should probably get going, the fortress-“

“Can wait a little longer,” Hanzo sternly informed him. “You said yourself, we aren’t too far.” Hanzo lent over to kiss between Kuai’s eyes. “I want to be sure you are up to it first.”

Kuai nodded, “I will be, but a minute would be appreciated.”

“We can take as long as you want.” Hanzo pulled Kuai up, before slotting himself behind. Kuai was lent back head resting against Hanzo’s shoulder. “And once we’re out of hell, I’ll be sure to spoil you.”

“Yay~” Kuai whispered, nuzzling his face into Hanzo’s neck and smiling.

They stayed like that, for just a short while longer, until Kuai felt ready to begin their journey again.

[musicalchaosxx]

SKYFALL | undertale

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

chapter two: the art of being captured

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Three months earlier.

“I’m a what?”

“A magician.” Your father began to tell you one day, sitting at the family wooden table you all had gathered to for a ‘serious talk’. “And it’s time you learned.”

The war had began months ago. A sick, twisted war, and with you being fresh into the adult world, your parents had chose to keep you contained in your childhood home until conflict seemed to be resolved. Instead, the worst had happened, and slowly but surely the government had started to collapse. Your family managed to make ends meet; the entire mood and environment had changed from what you once knew.

Your eyebrows furrowed. “I can’t be. There’s no way. You always told me it was weird phenomena.”

“To protect you.” Your mother piped up, “We said that to protect you. We were never sure of your full fledged abilities, but we knew you were always different. Stronger.”

The new and sudden information never truly soaked in. Sure, you were aware that monsters and magic existed, but you? A magician? There was no way. No humans could truly ever have that much power, and even if they did, surely you would’ve have known about them at this point.

You bit your lip. “But….how do you know i’m a magician? How can you tell?”

Your father glanced down at the floor for a moment, collecting his thoughts. Magic and monsters wasn’t a sticky topic of conversation in your household, and so it seemed rather odd the hesitation both of them had been showing.

“Do you….remember any time you would get really upset, and random things would happen? Such as a glass breaking, books falling off the shelf, or even a warm aura surrounding you?” Your mother asked, a hopeful glint in her eye. You simply nodded in response.

Random things happening when your emotions were extremely in tune was considered normal at this point. Your parents had always played it off as bad luck or unlucky phenomena. Otherwise, you never thought about it too deeply.

“Yeah. I remember. But what’s that got to do with being a magician?” You mused.

Silence for a moment. Then, your father sighed. “That, (y/n), was magic.”

What were you supposed to say? Magicians were fairytales, even legends. The old children storybooks never exactly counted as truth or nonfiction.

“But….why all of this now? Why can’t we just let it go and keep it secret? I don’t think this will help in the long run.” You said, “why would you both bring this up now?”

Again they were silenced. You shuffled uncomfortably in your chair, watching as your parents color drained from their faces. Okay, sure, government was crashing, everyone was fighting, and your family was silently struggling amongst hundreds of other families during this time. What’s that to you? It not as if this information could single-handedly win the war. (You wanted to laugh out loud with that last part.)

Without a word your father pulled a folded—nearly crumpled—piece of paper from his pocket. Slowly he unfolded it with the upmost anticipation, as if he was regretting what he was about to do. A rather long letter, rather than a document, he showed, scanning the text briefly before opening his mouth to speak.

“We….have recognized your child to be a Magician.” His voice shook, “Medical scans from their adolescence shows an abnormal amount of magic, and we have come to the conclusion that they are not only a magician, but the highest ranking—,”

“Number one?” Your mom interjected, “But Derek you didn’t tell me—,”

“We are politely requesting their presence at the sight of The Factions main base in Nevada, to formerly train them and be apart of our top tier Magician battalion. Here we wish for them to reach their fullest potential in fighting this war.” He finished, quickly folding the paper back up.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. …You? Training with government officials? To fight for them?

The very thought made your stomach drop. Magician, magic, the government requesting your long awaited presence, it was too much for one day. You felt light headed and dizzy, refusing to look down at your sweaty palms that was supposed to supposedly contain ungodly amounts of magic.

“Sweetheart. Listen. You don’t need to panic.” Your mother grabbed your hand, squeezing it lightly. “We can avoid this.”

“Avoid this?” Derek spoke up, “Amanda, what the hell do you think would happen if we refused?”

The two of them began to bicker, but you weren’t listening. The noise had fallen flat to your ears and endless thoughts swirling in your brain. Every little puzzle piece began fit awkwardly together, and now you felt like throwing up. What were you even capable of? Surely you weren’t not that important, but then again, the government had wanted you personally. Nothing was making sense anymore.

Safe or not, you now had a big ass target the size of Texas on your back.

Your parents quickly managed to agree on one thing: getting the hell as far away as they could. Packed into a small van with nothing but the clothes on your back, you fled. You weren’t exactly sure what they were trying to achieve, but you weren’t going to argue—you didn’t know what to do either.

You watched all the towns you passed turn to ghost lands. So many people were desperate to flee oncoming threats, and you saw once lively establishments become abandoned and dust ridden. It broke your heart, watching how slowly but surely your country was collapsing in on itself. The trip allowed you to meet and see monsters for the first time; creatures filled with despair that their freedom had been threatened once more.

You weren’t picking sides, (you hated doing that) but you we’re definitely rooting for the underdog.

After weeks of driving and fleeing, your parents finally settled for an Inn near the borders of Illinois. You never stayed at a hotel for more than a few nights, and if you did, your parents were worked up into a frenzy. On the bright side, your dad managed to teach you how to levitate objects (very helpful) and to manifest energy in your palm’s (suuuuper helpful.)

So here you were, living in an Inn, barely using magic, and trying not to get caught by the government. Life as a nineteen year old really couldn’t get better.

“Dear, did you happen to see any convenience stores on your way in?” Mom asked Dad one night, digging through the Inn’s cupboards in an attempt to find dish ware.

Derek simply shook his head. “We’re out of luck with this town. Most places have been abandoned from bankruptcy, this town isn’t an exception.”

A collective groan from your mother and you were left to sit on the bed and flip through channels on the TV. No need to unpack, you were almost positive you all would be gone within the next few days.

“We might as well try and get some rest. We can look around for food tomorrow.”

“I’ll go look.” You suddenly offered, desperate for a breath of fresh air. You slipped off the bed and began putting your shoes on.

Your dad scoffed. “Um, negative. You’re not going out in public, and you’re definitely not going by yourself.”

You refrained from rolling your eyes. “I’m an adult, and we’re literally in the middle of Ohio. Who could possibly go and take me in the middle of Ohio.”

Both parents deadpanned, giving each-other a sarcastic impression. You didn’t care; you wanted out of a hotel and out of a van to simply stretch your legs, and hopefully find a sense of normalcy, even if it was a simple gas station in the middle of nowhere.

You heaved a sigh. “Im going to look for food. I’ll be back soon, okay?”

And off you went. The inn was in mediocre condition, but that was to be expected of. Regardless, you took a giant deep breath amongst feeling the cool august air through the double doors, and immediately started trekking down the road. Nothing but abandoned buildings long lost to the clutches of bankruptcy, and a few houses here and there. Eventually, you came across a run-down gas station, that seemed to be lost to the tests of the war. Nontheless, you tugged at the door handle and pulled it open.

A little jingle and 1950’s music greeted your ears as your eyes began to scan. Old and rundown, yes, but still somehow functioning. Shelves filled with canned goods and bagged snacks gleefully lined the shelves and clothing racks stood rather shakily in the corner. Cooler doors housed cold drinks much to your delight.

“May i help you?” A sweet voice perked up. You whipped around, making eye contact with a Monster woman, who took the appearance of a bunny. A large sun-hat and sundress did not match the rather drab vibe of her store, but she looked harmless.

You smiled. You had met monsters before, but not in the same regard. Now you could actually talk to one face to face. “Um, yes, i’m just looking for some food for my family.”

The monster smiled. “Well we have plenty of good items on those shelves there. Please, feel free to look around.”

Without another word you quickly made your way to the canned food. You hastily snagged a basket and began dumping as much food as you could take.

“My, i don’t see many humans around this part anymore. Are you a refugee?” The monster asked suddenly, wary in her sweet voice.

Oh boy. Just lie, it’s not that hard right? You couldn’t exactly tell everyone your situation. Not that she would believe you even if you did. “Erm. Yeah, i’m a refugee. My parents and i have been on the run for quite sometime.”

She frowned. “Goodness. What a shame. I’d figured all of the humans had long gone from these parts. You’d best be careful, little one. Most humans i’ve met around here aren’t the kindest bunch.”

“I’ll try. We won’t be here long, i’m sure we’ll be on our way in a few days. What about you? Aren’t you afraid of being here?”

The monster laughed lightly. “Sure i am. I don’t think there’s a single monster outside right now that isn’t terrified. But, my job in the underground was to help and serve travelers. More or less the same here. If i can help one person in this nasty war, it’s all worth the fear.”

You smiled. You couldn’t remember a time you had met a monster that wasn’t this kind. Mulling over her response, you finally gathered enough food and water to supply your family for a week. The monster woman kindly helped you check out, and you slid a 50$ bill onto the counter.

She laughed. “Oh my. There’s not need for that.” she slid the bill back towards you, “Please, feed your family. It’s the least i could do for the number one magician.”

Your eyes widened, starting to panic at her response. You felt your palms get sweaty. “H-How did you—,”

The woman leaned close. “Listen, deary. I don’t know what bind you got yourself into, but they’re looking everywhere for you right now. It gives me hope knowing you are kind, but please, i hope you make the right decision with your power.”

You gulped. Stars. How the hell were you supposed to respond to that?

“This world has turned into kill or be killed. Most monsters you run into will be kind, but please be cautious. Now go, take this as a sign of my gratitude.”

You thanked her again and quickly made your way out of the store. Panic flowed through your body and your head began to pound. You were now wanted by the government as a public figure, which mean the year get on your back only grew ten-fold. That meant that not only were you in danger, but your parents were in danger as well. Big time.

Your measly jog had turned into a sprint. Oh god. You hoped your parents were okay, and safe. Regardless of who’s territory you were in, you knew that you’d probably be wanted for both sides.

Lungs burning and breath hitched, you stumbled into the lobby of the inn. Generally so far, you’d say luck had been on your families side for quite sometime, being able to get away and manage to survive off of scraps without being demolished.

Well, in the very moment you stepped foot back into the lobby, that luck had fizzled out quicker than a candle flame. Well over ten government officiated guards had filled the lobby, causing a ruckus with residents that had been pulled hastily from their rooms. Anyone who had stayed in the Inn was forced into their knees onto the tile floor; the sight made your heart jump to your throat and your stomach churn. Your grip on the shopping bags made your knuckles white, unsure of what to do but knowing exactly they were here for.

You.

The giant target on your back became a billboard now, and you knew there was no fucking chance you were going to get out of this unscathed. Your parents sat smack dab in the middle of the lobby, a gun pointed to each of their heads and tears streaming down their faces.

“I’m gonna ask again. Where are they.” The guard holding your mother growled, only earning a sob from her in return.

“Please. Please let us go. Let everyone go, we don’t know where. we don’t know we don’t know please—,” Your mothers cries became shallow and desperate.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. What do you do?

You couldn’t bring yourself to think about joking them. You didn’t want to fight. But you couldn’t let your parents be victims to protect you. Sucking in a deep breath, you fought back impending tears.

“Leave them be!” you yelled, snapping the guards attentions and dropping the bags of food onto the ground. “I’m what you want, huh?!” You screeched, braver than you felt, “You can have me all you want, but leave them alone!”

They wasted no time or a singular thought. It wasn’t much to capture you; you weren’t exactly able to fight back against their weapons. Even if you did use magic, it would render itself useless. You didn’t even know how fight. Nevertheless, the feeling of needing to protect still felt dominant in the moment.

The guard who cuffed you forced you to join the floor in front of your parents. A ginormous man; you couldn’t bring him down even if you dreamed about it. The guard began to laugh hysterically, almost taunting you.

“Christ, this is the number one magician? You didn’t even try to fight!” He chortled, earning laughs from his teammates. “Hell. Aren’t you supposed to be almighty and powerful?”

Amongst the laughter, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“(y/n) don’t—,” Your dad tried to interject.

“You think we were asking? You’re comin’ with us whether you like it er not sweetheart.” The guard huffed, “We could give less shits about all you other gremlins. But it don’t matter. Let’s go.”

Not wasting a single breath the man taunting you grabbed you by your cuffs and pulled you to your feet. Tears welled up in your eyes watch your parents struggle to break themselves free, yelling your name and for you to fight back. You felt your heart slowly sink at the realization you were starting to give up. There was no point in trying to run; you had a sinking feeling that no matter where you went, they would always find you.

You were haphazardly thrown into the back of a large van; something you were quite used to by this point in traveling. Hitting the floorboard with a thud, you pulled yourself up to be able to sit cross cross. Most of the guards sat around you, and you were assuming they were cautious of your magic.

Yeah, right. It was almost embarrassing to say you were probably the least intimidating magician they had ever captured.

“This is a good laugh.” The man taunting you smiled, taking a seat on the bench. “Silas will enjoy this story.”

You furrowed your brows, heart still pounding in your chest. Okay, yeah, this is fine. You just got captured by government officials and your parents were left behind, no biggie.

“Who’s Silas,” You whispered cautiously, earning an uproar of laughter from everyone in the van.

“Who’s Silas?!” The man cried, wiping nonexistent tears from his eyes, “Man, have you been living under a rock these past few months?”

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment and you seriously began to wonder what the hell was wrong with these guys. It’s not your fault you weren’t in the know; your parents kinda sprung this whole “magician” thing onto you after 19 years of not understanding your random phenomena outbursts, and now there was a war (over what, you didn’t understand) that you were being forced to include yourself in. You wanted so desperately to mouth off, to be sarcastic, but you didn’t exactly know how far these men were willing to go.

Once he finally stopped laughing, Jack (as you read on his nameplate, surprisingly convenient.) began to tell you about Silas.

“He’s the head honcho, our boss. He took over the military side of things, and eventually, the whole human faction. Nobody really knows where he comes from, but he’s a hella powerful guy and i trust him.” He said, “Monsters are sick. It’s a good thing we got you on our side now.”

You weren’t on their side. You were as far away from either side, or even the separating line as you could get. You felt your stomach churn as the van hit bumps and curves, knowing you were already in for an interesting few days.

Magician or not, you were in a world of danger.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

[namingtoohard]

Inktober 2022

I don't normally bother with these sorts of challenges. My work schedule is way too harsh, and my muse is way too fickle. Hell, I'm pretty sure it's been over a year since I the last time I posted any of my own writing here. Even so, I've decided to step out of my comfort zone and give it a try for once.

I'll be using the official Inktober prompt list for this year. I'm only planning on writing a short snippet for each one, but this first story grew a lot more than I expected. I hope anyone who takes the time to read enjoys it!

Inktober Prompt 1 - Gargoyle

The impossible stone monstrosity is almost twice my height, even with its shoulders hunched. It stalks towards me slowly, the grinding sound of its movements punctuated by the sharp crack of the cathedral’s marble tiles, which shatter beneath its clawed feet. The gargoyle’s chest expands and contracts rhythmically in a sick mimicry of human breathing, the stone rippling and shifting as if it were living flesh. It has no face to speak of – its features have been worn away by the passage of time, leaving only smooth, unblemished stone behind. Even so, I can feel its gaze upon me. The beast’s scrutiny is so powerful it presses down on my shoulders like a physical force, holding me in place when every instinct I have is telling me to flee.

It stops before me, and all is silent for a single, blessed moment. The gargoyle tilts its head, then. I feel its awareness slip past me, and settle on the little girl clutching at my leg. It extends a stone arm towards us, the movement ponderously slow. I flinch back, but it doesn’t touch me. Just holds its claw out, palm facing upwards, as if inviting me to take its hand.  

“We do not wish to harm you. Just give us the child, and all will be well.” The beast’s voice sounds line stone grating against stone, eerily similar to its movements. I hear its words not in the sounds it makes, but in the hollow spaces between them.

“She’s just a little girl.” The threat of losing her is enough to help me find my voice, shaky as it may be. Finally able to move again, I take a small step backwards. My hand finds the girl’s shoulder, and I shove her further behind me. She’s crying, but I can’t spare a thought for her comfort. Not now. “I thought gargoyles were supposed to be protectors. That’s why you were carved in the first place, isn’t it?”

“We are.” The monster’s voice is as hard and unyielding as its body. There’s a flicker of movement, right on the edge of my vision. I risk a glance upwards, and realise that there’s more of them, perched amongst the rafters. Dust floats down from above as another gargoyle awakens, stretching for the first time in god knows how long. They all watch together, patient.

“Then why are you doing this?” My voice sounds meek and worthless, even to my own ears.

“Because that thing is not your daughter. Losing her may hurt, but if we do not take her, it will be worse.” The monster’s words set my thoughts to racing., until they’re interrupted by a loud crash that seems to shake the building’s very foundations. I know without looking that another of the creatures has dropped to the ground behind me, and is now blocking the exit. The one before me inches closer, impatient. The gesture is oddly human.

At long last, I glance down at the girl cowering behind me. Her fingers are tangled in my shirt, gripping the material tight enough for her knuckles to turn white. Two amber eyes, shimmering with tears, watch me from behind a curtain of brown curls. The sight is enough to break my heart in two. How could a face like that ever belong to a monster? I refuse to accept it. Even so, I have no way to stop the gargoyles from taking her. She’s practically dead already, and there’s little point in me dying alongside her. I’m disgusted with myself for thinking it, for how cold and calculating the thought is. My conscience rallies against the idea, going to war with every self-preservation instinct in my body.

After a long moment of turmoil, I reach down and take the girl’s tiny hand in mine. Her eyes find mine, and I give her fingers a gentle squeeze that I hope is comforting. Then I forcibly peel her fingers from the cloth, avert my gaze, and step aside.

She screams and cries as the gargoyles reach for her. The sound chills me to my core, and I know it will haunt me for the rest of my life.

[archieve-yura-blog]

                      •| ⊱ ✿ S I S T E R S BY CHOICE. ⊰ |•

                  ❛ ——— @pd-sunny e eu nos conhecemos há muito tempo, antes mesmo de eu vir morar aqui na Coreia do Sul. Nossas mães eram muito próximas, então era comum que quando uma viajasse para visitar a outra, trouxesse-nos junto, já que nossa idade é bem próxima. Sunny, hoje, sequer é alguém que eu chamo de amiga, pois considero que ela seja a irmã que a vida me deu, e sou muito grata por tê-la em minha vida, por poder crescer com ela e partilhar tantos momentos bons ao seu lado. Sunny, para mim, representa família. 

[pd-yura-blog]

                                      ❛ ✿ IT WOULD BE A LONELY                                            WORLD WITHOUT YOU

@pd-ludovica @pd-sooyun​ @pd-wenhao @pd-leon 

[fenixjung-blog]

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ •| ⊱✿ look for the girl with the broken smile ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ and ask her if she wants to stay a while... ⊰ |• 

[sj-ficrecs]

1,000+ followers fic rec!

Recently noticed at some point a little while ago I passed 1,000 followers on this page! In honor of that here’s another fic rec of some good ones I’ve been reading lately. As usual, no specific order. 

PREVIOUS FIC RECS HERE!

(Hopefully this shows up in tags bc my last one didn’t & tumblr wouldn’t fix it) 

Thanks to @whimsicalrogers for this divider I’m using below :)

Bucky x reader:

3B by @softlybarnes Bucky x reader

“Bucky is used to being alone, so is the girl living in apartment 3B. He keeps to his routine, to crossing off amends. But mutual loneliness forges an unlikely friendship. Alone and reclusive, sweet and incredibly strange, with deep secrets and regrets, 3B has more to reveal than meets the eye.”

(un)cool by @belowva rockstar!Bucky x reader

“in the summer of 1973, after covering the howling commandos’ concert for a night, you - a young and inexperienced music journalist - accidentally end up following the up and coming band from new york city across the country. between shows, parties, backstage nonsense, interviews and failed attempts at writing a cover story for rolling stone magazine, you end up developing a love/hate relationship with their brooding, but devilishly handsome, guitarist james “call me bucky” barnes. (based on “almost famous”)”

Your Song by @summergrls​  Rockstar!Bucky x reader

“it’s not summer without you. or, that’s what your favorite rockstar always says. it’s all happening.”

Last Love by @wicked-mind Modern!Bucky x reader

“Based on the quote “He may be your first love but I intend to be your last” by Klaus Mikaelson.”

Remember Me by @wicked-mind​ Modern!Bucky x reader

“Y/N and Bucky were the unlikely match when it came to love, but they were inseparable since they met. After a fight, Y/N left to be a trauma surgeon in the military and returns without her memories. How will Bucky remind Y/N how she is the fire in his bones?”

Cake by @tellmealovestory (Part of the Something More universe) Modern!Bucky x reader

“The wedding plans continue as you and Bucky try to decide on a cake flavor.”

My Eyes by @invisibleanonymousmonsters Bucky x reader, past Steve x reader

“Steve is a good man, America’s golden boy, a hero. He’s Captain America for christ’s sake! So it’s normal to want what he has… right? Bucky knows he doesn’t deserve her. He doesn’t even deserve the second chance at life he’s been given. But Bucky can never let him know. Steve can never find out that his friend is in love with his best girl.”

The Mess by @sanguineterrain​ Bucky x Avenger!reader

“A wild night in Vegas changes everything between you and Bucky. Suddenly, all eyes are on you and you’re left wondering just how much can change between you and a man whose guts you hate (and who also hates yours).”

The Devil Has Lilith by @write-orflight Bucky x reader, soulmate AU

“They say your soulmate is supposed to be the one person you love unconditionally. So why did they make yours so insufferable?”

College!Bucky series / Couldn’t Be Me by @drunken-imagines College!Bucky x reader

Bucky is a known fuck boy trying to win over reader

Best of Friends by @anna-phora Modern!Bucky x reader

“When your best friend steals marries Bucky’s best friend, the two of you are left with only one solution: to become best friends yourselves.”

Back to You by @celestialbarnes Modern!ex-Bucky x reader

“desperate to find a place to stay after your boyfriend cheated on you, you end up crashing at bucky’s apartment, the problem is he’s the ex that you never really got over and he’s got a new girl who doesn’t like you very much.”

It’s Been a Long, Long Time by @luminnara Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader

“When HYDRA had their prized asset, the Winter Soldier, they did something no one ever thought was possible: they gave super soldier serum to an omega. With the sole purpose of tending to him during his ruts, she spends decades living in HYDRA facilities, denied her humanity and her life. Now, years later, Bucky Barnes has his mind and his own life back…and the last thing he ever expects is to see a familiar omega again. Bucky/OC, a little angsty but mostly smutty/fluffy/romantic!“

Friends Don’t by @watchtowerindistress Bucky x reader

“Reader is in a friends-with-benefits relationship with Bucky Barnes. Rule #1: no feelings - so don’t get attached (written by Bucky). Rule #2: don’t ever stay over (written by (Y/N)). After a fateful mission, one of them is going to break all the rules.”

Just a Touch by @buckychrist Bucky x reader

“Your powers? Controlling any feeling a human can have, from emotions to pain, with a simple brush of your fingertips. Your mission? The traumatized soldier with sad stricken eyes and scream filled nightmares.”

Under Pastel Skies by @redgillan Modern!Bucky x Artist!reader

“Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.”

A Long Ways Away by @ai-unknown Bucky x reader

“Connection, reconnection, and a small miscommunication. Bucky will travel however far, if it means making you smile.”

No Rest for the Wicked by @abovethesmokestacks Trucker!Bucky x reader

Based upon this ask: “i have the absolute weirdest urge today to get railed by trucker!bucky in a motel in like southern florida🤨 and it’s late too, maybe 3-4 am. the place is kinda seedy & it’s rlly humid and hot outside & the ac barely works so we’d both be sweating a lot but it makes it hotter”

Meanwhile in Louisiana by @multifandomwriter Bucky x reader

“You are Sam’s best friend and you meet Bucky when Sam organizes a party down at the docks.”

A Tender Heart by @river-soul Alpha!Bucky x Omega!reader

“You’ve been sweet on Bucky since you started working at the compound six months ago. Normally quiet and mild mannered, an unexpected fight with a coworker brings Bucky into your orbit.”

Steve x reader:

Jane Doe by @justkending Modern!Steve x reader

“They weren’t next door neighbors, but they did live in the same apartment complex. However, they were on completely different sides of the complex. Steve always sees her across the way doing her daily routines and way about life on her balcony from his own. Something about her has him checking in on her from across the way when he can… She’s intriguing and has a way about her life that he finds calming and captivating. He wants to know more about who she is, but there’s no non-creepy way of approaching a neighbor that doesn’t know you exist. Is there?”

[foodieforthoughts]

Hello love! I have this scenario stuck in my head:

Walter hurts his right shoulder quite badly when solving a case (or slipping on ice 🤔)which leaves him imobile to his dominant arm. Being the stubborn man he is, he releases himself from the hospital and back at home has to release that he alone struggles with the simplest tasks. Due to the time of night or a snowstorm outside the only one left to ask for help is that new annoying neighbour (there's the trope I guess)... might lead to a number of embaressing (and hot?) situations...

Wherever that came from... never mind my weird brain 🙈... does that maybe, possibly strike your muse?

Omg. 🤭 Thank you for the request @omgkatinka I tried to make it fluffy and funny, but I'm in a Walter mood lately and it did end up with a hint of smut, so here it goes.

Warnings: slight description of shoulder injury, a little bit of angst, fluff, description of male masturbation

*divider by @firefly-graphics

Title: Helping hand

Walter groaned when he turned on his side, half asleep and in a lot of pain. His shoulder throbbed like a thousand needles pricked him at the same time, shooting a blinding pain up to his fingers.

"Fuck!" He cursed at himself, rolling onto his back and trying to breathe through his agony. He clutched his sore shoulder with his hand, gently soothing the bandages and blinking through the tears that had sprung at the corners of his eyes.

Walter had hurt his shoulder while on a mission to catch hold of a guy involved in human trafficking. They had chased the culprit through the abandoned factory, barely losing him through the maze of metal staircases when Walter had lunged at the man, tackling him to the floor. But the rusty old work bridge had crumbled under the force, bringing both men crashing down to the ground with metal pieces and debris. Luckily for them they weren't harmed in a life threatening manner, but Walter's shoulder had dislocated, resulting in a torn labrum requiring surgery.

"Fuck this shit." Walter had told himself while lying in his hospital bed on the third day post surgery, pressing the call button for the nurse. He had gruffly told the pale, scared woman that he wanted to go home and he was feeling fine. After arguing with the doctor about his health, Walter had self discharged himself against medical advice.

He thought he had made a wise choice coming home, but he knew he was stupid to think he could make it on his own.

Sitting up on the bed and grabbing the strap of the arm sling, Walter groaned. With his dominant hand rendered useless for the time being, Walter had a lot of trouble with his daily activities. Faye and Angie were in California visiting her parents, leaving him no one to call for help for the past weeks.

He made his way to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water when he saw the heavy blanket of snow outside. Checking his watch, he gathered it was only four pm and yet it was almost dark with snow still falling steadily. Walter had taken his pain meds and a sleeping pill when he had awoken in the middle of the night, and had effectively knocked himself out for a good twelve hour sleep. With that realization, his stomach growled indicating his missed meals for the day.

Looking around at the kitchen, Walter groaned when he saw the empty takeout boxes and the overflowing trash can. Injury had left him disorganised, making him live like a junkie. He couldn't even remember the last time he had taken a decent shower, sniffing the air as he could smell his own body odour. He was about to grab a trash bag from the counter and try to clean, when his doorbell rang.

Walter groaned, again. He had an inkling it was her. His chirpy neighbor who was the only one who showed up to help him every other day. She was annoying in the beginning, trying to start up conversations when all he wanted to do was sulk. But he had warmed up to her, still keeping her at an arm's length, but allowing her to assist him from time to time. When he opened the front door, there she was, looking adorable covered in cozy woollen attire from head to toe, a cute beanie over her hair, carrying a big lunch box in her gloved hands. She smiled at him, shivering with the cold winds until he moved to the side to let her in.

You could never believe how intimidating Walter had seemed to you only a couple of weeks ago. He would always throw a curt nod at you when you would greet him from your door if you ever happened to cross paths, never smiling or staying for a chat. You had gathered from the other neighbors that he was a cop, Detective Walter Marshall, kind of a loner and always grumpy. There was no denying your attraction to him, his scruffy beard and thick curls always left your fingers itching to touch them, with his accent being a major plus point. But he would never give you a chance to strike up a decent conversation.

It was all fun and games, you liked the chase, even if you were the one doing all the chasing. Seemed like a conquest for you but when his car was missing from his parking spot for days on end, you began worrying about him. Then one fine day, you spotted him out in the curb, trying to open the trash bin with one hand while the other was hanging in a sling. You had walked up to him, out of concern when Walter had turned around to go back inside slipping on the ice, only for you to grab a hold of him trying to break his fall but instead tumbling to the cold ground with him on top of you. He had apologized profusely, wincing in pain as he moved and letting you help him stand up.

From that day onwards, you always made it a point to stop by his house atleast once. It helped that Walter never complained.

"I had made lasagna. Did you have lunch?" You asked, taking off your beanie to hang on the hook and leaving your boots by the door. You felt Walter's looming figure follow you as you made your way to the kitchen. Taking in the surrounding, you nodded to yourself, your question answered without Walter having to utter a word. "Very well, why don't you sit at the table and I'll serve you the food?"

You tried to grab clean plates and spoons, frowning at the dirty dishes from last night, but you didn't blame him. It was only so much he could do with one hand.

"Did you have a good night's sleep?" You asked, trying to strike up a conversation with the Detective.

"No. I took sleeping pills."

Placing the plate of food in front of him, you narrowed your eyes at him. "Don't get too attached to those meds though." You handed him the spoon and fork, before getting to clean his kitchen.

"You don't have to do that." Walter protested from his place at the table, almost about to stand up. "I was about to clean around the house."

"With one hand? Come on, Detective Walter, you know better than that. And I don't mind, I was holed up at my house since morning anyway, this atleast gives me a chance to do something." You winked at him, grabbing the empty bottles of water and shoving them in the trash bag. By the time Walter had finished his meal, you had cleaned the kitchen with only the dishes to spare.

"Let me get those." Walter tried to reach for the soap but you were fast enough to grab it first.

"Go rest, I can handle this." You nudged him playfully with your hip. You could not believe your eyes when you saw Walter smile. "Wow! Look at that! I am being graced with a smile."

Rolling his eyes at you, Walter stayed put at his place, handing you the plates one by one. You insisted for him to rest, but he denied each of your requests. You were just about done loading up the dishes in the dishwasher when your phone rang from it's place in the purse that was hanging on the hook.

"I'll put them in the rack, go." Walter assured you with another smile. You nodded at him, handing the gloves and walking out the kitchen. You were texting back your mom, when you heard the Detective cuss loudly, followed by falling and breaking of plates. You hurried inside to find Walter drenched with soapy water and the broken pieces of ceramic and glass on the floor.

"I'm done with this!" He shouted, trying to pry open the velcro of his sling in anger. The edge of his shirt dripped water on the floor with a stream travelling down from the front of his pants.

"Hey, hey." You rushed to him, carefully maneuvering away from the plates, and caught hold of his hands. "It's okay. It happens. Why don't you go change and I'll clean here." You didn't back down when he stared at you, not moving and not giving up. But a silent moment passed and he left for his bedroom without a word.

You walked towards Walter’s bedroom, the silence of the house only disturbed by the whistling winds of the oncoming storm outside. It was late in the night when you had gotten the chance to pay the ailing Detective a visit. With freshly baked cookies in a box, you had knocked at his door only to be left standing out in the cold. He had handed you a spare key for emergencies as the storm warning approached which you never used until today.

When you reached the door to his bedroom, you stopped in your tracks hearing muffled grunts from the other side. The door was slightly cracked open, faint light seeping out to the the hallway. You peered through the gap only to gape at the sight.

The other day when Walter had spilled water over his front and gone to change, you had followed him after hearing him cursing at himself. He had a hard time taking off the wet clothes, making him angrier by the minute. You had helped him then, only to be left mesmerized by his body as your nimble fingers had brushed over his skin.

Walter had his eyes closed, his arm in the sling and resting on his naked chest and pillows with a sheet covering his lower half. His other hand was under the cover, moving up and down as he pleasured himself. You felt your cheeks warm, spreading down to your chest and the tip of your ears as you watched him in his private moment, wanting to turn and run away but failing to do so.

You weren't going to ask him, but you could swear a long moment of sparks had passed between the two of you. Your dreams now featured vivid fantasies with Walter, leaving you in a daze for the rest of the day.

As much as you wanted to stare at his heaving chest, listen to his melodious moans and trace his sweat sheened face with your gaze; this felt like a rude invasion of privacy. You were about to turn on your heels when you heard the whisper of your name rolling out of his lips. Whipping your head to see if you had been caught red handed, you were left baffled to find Walter's eyes closed, unaware of your presence and repeating your name like a mantra while he pumped his length.

You had no idea what got into you, but the urge to be with the man you had been lusting over was so strong, you pushed the door open with heated cheeks and a trembling core. Walter's eyes shot open, widening as he took in your presence, scrambling to hide himself underneath the sheets.

"Wh-what are you-?" He stammered, a rosy pink tint appearing on his flushed skin.

You did not answer him, choosing to close the distance between the two of you instead. You crouched down next to his side of the bed, placing your hand on his scruffy cheek. His pupils were blown wide, lips parted as he struggled to regain his breath and rendered speechless at the debacle. You waited for him to object to your advances, watching as he wet his lips with his tongue before leaning to kiss him. Walter remained frozen for a long second, until he moved his lips along with yours.

Breaking away from the kiss, you smiled at him, a hand creeping to his member that twitched in response. "Do you need a hand?" You asked, smirking as Walter could only nod before you pulled the sheet away from his body.

[nightowlfandom]

Nemesis Turned Yandere Demon! Dabi- Body Bag (Part 3/3) Feat. Keigo Takami

CHECK OUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

READ PART 1| READ PART 2

TRIGGERS!-fem! ReaderPARIS OUI OUI BITCH. YOU IN FOR IT BITCH.

leggo

...

“Look at you, cutie.”

“I would if I could see!” you whined. A blindfold was secured around your eyes. Your wrists were tied above your head and you were laying on a plush surface.

“I told you my place would be more comfy.” you heard Keigo laugh.

“Yes because who else would have a sex room in their fucking house.”

“I’m getting a good use out of it...like I’d ever pass up a chance to dig my talons into this...fine specimen.” 

“Uh Guys?” you called out. “Not to interrupt you two but- where are my clothes?”

“You won’t need them, princess.” Dabi laughed. “I want to see all of you.”

“You mean we-” Keigo sharply intervened. “Want to.”

“Whatever...” 

They both seemed to be walking in circles, each voice in one ear at a different time. 

“Y/N, do you know what type of demon I am?” Keigo was right next to your ear. “I’m a sex spirit. I don’t need food, water, sleep, or any thing like that...I need lust. I need warmth...can you provide that for me?”

“Ummm.” you shivered.

“Y/N, you’re shaking.” Dabi laughed. “Is he turning you on that much. He’s only talking to you...” 

“Shit.” you felt something slimy and wet coil around your ear. “Ungh~” 

“You like it when I lick here?” you heard a sadistic laugh. “Maybe here?” he traced his tongue down your neck. “Maybe here~” his lips teased your collarbone. 

“Damn, Y/N...if I knew you were so lewd, I would have done this when we first met. Maybe you coulda have used that smart mouth for something more fun.” Dabi’s voice cut through the air. “Trace your finger up her leg, it drives her crazy.”

“Like this?” you felt a ghostly tickle up your leg. “Is that-...A feather?” you began shaking. You felt the sensation up your tummy, over your chest. 

“One from my very own self...I figure I make it fun for me too...whatever you feel- I feel.” he cackled. “You like my touch better than Bacon Bits, right?”

“Don’t answer that Y/N, not unless you want to leave here with your ass red.”

“Why did I even get out of bed this morning?” you groaned. Your complaining caused them both to laugh. 

“Hm... as much as I love this small talk...I think you Y/N and I need to be further introduced.” you felt his hands slither down your thighs. You heard him shuffle around. You couldn’t move your hands so you were left to pull at your bindings. “Maybe one finger?” 

You felt his ghostly touch over your clit.

“That gasp was so-”

“Adorable” “Sexy”

Two different answers from two very different guys. “Y/N, you little slut-” “Adorable little thing”.

You yanked at your restraints again, squeezing your legs together. (Read more below)

“Aw Y/N baby, we haven’t even started yet.” you heard Dabi’s voice in your other ear now. “Look up for me will you?”

You tilted your head up, only to feel a rough hand wrap around your neck. Dabi crashed his lips over yours, shoving his tongue through your mouth. 

“Hmm.” you felt his hand tighten around your throat. “Keigo, be as rough as you want with this one. She may be human but she’s a fucking succubus.” he groaned.

“Noted...I kinda wanna shove my dick in her mouth first. That okay, man?” 

“Hm, to be honest I would think you’d wanna taste her first.” Dabi laughed. “All of her holes will be used up eventually anyways, and you’re already down there anyways.”

“Good point, Oven Gristle. Should we take off the blindfold? I kinda want her to see this.”

“Is anyone gonna ask my opinion on all this?!” you tried to ask.

“Hm...How can I make this fun for me too.” Dabi mused. Suddenly the blindfold was ripped off your eyes. “Y/N, you’re gonna look Keigo in the eye. If you break eye contact, I’ll burn you a little.”

“No” “Not a fucking chance.” 

“You’re not serious.” you looked up at him. “OW!” you felt a tiny pinch on your stomach. “Okay okay!” you looked back down at Keigo so wore a shit eating grin as he stared up at you. 

“Why hello there, slut.” he winked. “I know having two big and bad demons is such a hinderance to your oh so busy life, but make sure you make time for me okay? I’m the jealous type.”

“As am I...I feel bad for the man who tries to take you from us, honey.” 

You almost looked up, almost.

“OW!” you felt another pinch. “I DIDN’T EVEN LOOK UP.”

“You were thinking about it...Keigo, whenever you’re ready.”

“Finally.” he playfully rolled his eyes. He looked up at you again, smirking sadistically as he scratched your clit again. “Sorry about the facial hair in advance...might be a bit scratchy-”

You didn’t have time to ask what he meant before you saw him drag his tongue up your slit. He glared up at you through hooded eyes. You gasped at his tongue. Your insides felt hot. 

“Don’t fucking shut your eyes either, princess.” Dabi noticed your eyelids twitch. “Watch him tend to your cute little pussy.” he dragged his fingers up your spine. 

“You taste so fucking good, Beautiful.” he laughed. “You wanna cum in my mouth, hm? You wanna cum all over my face?” he slid his fingers into your pussy. “My fingers go in so easy but your pussy is so tight.” he sucked harshly at your clit. “I love watching you watch me.”

“F-fuuuucck.” you moaned. “I-...Uh...”

“Say my name, slutty human. Kiego. Kei-go~” he winked. “Come on, you can do it. Say Papa Bird’s name for him.”

“K-keigo!” you whimpered. 

“Fuck!” you felt him dig his nails into your thighs. “Shit you the first human I’ve had but you’re easily the best.” he growled. “Fuck your insides are so hot,” he laid sloppy open mouthed kissed along your heat. “You wanna cum don’t you? You wanna cum all over my face and all over this fucking bed while The Rejected Human Torch watches you moan for me. Simp for me.”

“If you’re trying to piss me off, it’s working.” Dabi growled. “Y/N...look up at me.”

You silently obeyed. Dabi looked eerily calm. It was almost scary the way the mean spirited smile spread across his face. “Do you wanna suck my cock?”

“Huh?” you were still thrashing under Keigo’s touch. 

“Suck. My. Cock.” he repeated. “While you be a little needy, greedy, lovable slut...please me.” he fumbled with his belt buckle, freeing the ‘beast’. “You know how to suck cock, right...I’ve seen you do it before. While I would have preferred it to be me, I’m sure with a few stings pulled it’ll be like that first bastard never existed.”

“Better not keep him waiting.” Keigo laughed. “Chop chop Y/N.”

“I won’t face fuck you yet.” Moving over to get next to you, Dabi gently ran his hand down your cheek, running his thumb along your bottom him. “But if you don’t suck it soon, you’ll leave me no choice.”

“How am I gonna-” you yanked at your restraints.

“Figure it out” “Figure it out~”

The head of Dabi’s cock touched your bottom lip, so you darted out your tongue...just slightly.

“Fuuck~ You’re testing my patience Y/N.” he glowered. “But I love it.” he laughed. “My little tease.” he moaned as you swirled your tongue around the head his his cock. 

You felt Keigo suck at your clit again. “Pay attention to me, princess.” 

“Focus on your self, man.” Dabi moaned, gently rocking his hips. “I said I wouldn’t face fuck you, that doesn’t mean I can coax it in.” he laughed. “I wish you could touch it, but...this is better.”

“I’m probably gonna face fuck you...just saying.” Keigo paused lashing his tongue against your scorching hot flesh to talk. “You’ll like how I taste babe...more than Charcoal Boy.”

Dabi thrust his cock into your mouth. ”Look at that! You’re so cute.” he moaned. “Swirl your tongue more-”

The way these two used you for their pleasure. Dabi thrusting his veiny dick into your mouth while Keigo went to town on your pussy. 

“Look at you take this cock so well.” He laughed. “You seein this, dude?”

“Nice.” Keigo laughed.

“FUCK!” Dabi took himself from your mouth and began pumping his length in his fist. “My human- My sexy little human charge.”

Just as he did, you felt yourself release all over Keigo’s mouth. He moaned and drove his tongue even deeper. You looked Dabi in the eye, his lovingly caressing your cheek as you rode out your high. 

“FUUUCCCK, that was so hot.” Keigo giggled. “Move it, Ashtray.” Keigo grabbed your neck and made you sit up. He then crashed his mouth over yours, forcing you to taste yourself on his tongue. 

His kiss was way different than Dabi. You yanked at your restraints again. 

“Come on.” you whined. “This isn’t fair!”

“Demons don’t play fair.” Keigo laughed, kissing you again. “They play with little sluts like you, dearest Y/N.”

“They take humans’ innocence and make them into little slaves.” Dabi snarled, still rubbing his shaft. “If you weren’t a human, I would think you’re a little wanton succubus.” he cackled. 

“Maybe we should get her a little pair of horns for that pretty little head.” Keigo shuddered. “A cute little pair of wings for that pretty little back. I won’t lie, sexy girl it would be painful.” He dragged his fingertips up your spine. 

“She might like it.” Dabi bit his lip. “Shit Y/N...”

“I’m gonna do it...” you felt something sharp, drag back down your back. “You bleed such a pretty color...I wonder if-” You felt Keigo lick the blood he had drawn. 

“Damn man, leave her in one piece.” Dabi laughed. “I hope you know Y/N...even though I’m torturing you...I still care about you. I’m still gonna protect you.”

“You mean ‘we’.” Keigo gingerly kiss your neck. “You think I’m letting a dime like this get away?”

“Whatever dude, don’t blame me when she drives you insane with every question she has about the demon world.” 

“I don’t drive you insane!” you whined. 

“But we will”

...(The Next Morning)

“Look at you.”

You shyly walked into the kitchen. Keigo was leaned against the counter, casually drinking out of a mug. “Um...Hi.”

“Dabi went back into hell. Had to talk to the big guy about you-” he winked. “I’m surprised you can still walk.”

“Huh? Oh.” you looked down. “Yeah.”

“You look sexy in the mornings.” he winked. “Give me a smile, won’t you?”

The corners of your mouth slightly turned up. Keigo was such a flirt. “Ah, there is it...Beautiful...come ‘ere.” 

You walked across the floor, standing in front of him. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“Huh?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah.” He put his mug down. “I may be a demon but I like to enjoy the pleasures of humanity from time to time.” he shrugged. “So...what can I make for you, cutie?”

“Um...Can I have some French Toast?”

“The sweet kind, right?”

“Is there any other way to have it?” you slightly scoffed, making him laugh. “Thanks.”

“No need to thank me, babe.” he winked. “At least not verbally.” he bit his lip. “You should eat first though.” he bit his lip. “Go relax, I’ll get started on everything.”

You left the kitchen and walked over to the couch in the living room.

A bit of time passed. You heard Keigo humming a little tune mixed with the sound of sizzling. Good smells flooded your nostrils. It smelt of vanilla, nutmeg, and cinnamon. You fiddled with your fingers, kicking your legs as you anticipated what he was gonna bring. 

Keigo soon walked out of the kitchen with a plate. “Breakfast is served.”

You saw a heaping pile of French Toast, layered with what looked like berries, bananas and cream, all topped with syrup. “After the night you’ve had, you must be starving.”

“I am.” you sat up straight. “Wow, that looks-”

“Good, yeah?” He set the plate in front of you. He grabbed the knife and fork and began cutting into the mountain of syrupy goodness. “Say Ah~”

Without complaint, you opened your mouth and allowed him to feed you. It was so good that Keigo couldn’t help but laugh when he saw your eyes widen. 

“Is it good?” he bit his lip, already knowing the answer.

“Mhm.” you giggled.

“I’m glad.” he winked. “However you’re a little messy eater, you’ve got whipped cream all over your cheek.”

“I do?” you raised a brow, reaching your hand to touch your face.

“Allow me.” he laced his fingers in yours and leaned closer. He dragged his tongue along your cheek, licking the cream and syrup off your face. “What do you say we have some fun of our own, huh?” He whispered in your ear, no doubt smiling sadistically.

[jar-of-ectoplasm]

yandere greek mythology la squadra au part 1

THIS HAS BEEN IN MY DRAFTS SINCE JUNE I'M SO SORRY Y'ALL GOD DAMN

here it is fellas i hope you like the format i might start doing it more often and sorry if my story telling skills are shit rn i'm rusty :) also idk when i'll get part two out but here this is for now

Genre/Warnings: Mentions of violence/blood, mentions of death, cheating/infidelity, light/soft yandere, light religious themes (praying, etc.)

a/n: some of these stories put you in The Odyssey but the story is heavily altered for the purpose of this au, most of these stories will be connected in some way (several stories are connected directly, others only referenced). i used greek instead of italian here for the little nicknames, translations will be in parenthesis by the words. also yeah i know the nymphs, the furies, and sirens were pretty much only female but just go with it okay. also also i know that my descriptions of some of the monsters aren't at all accurate to the actual myths they came from (especially the minotaur and the furies) but it's fine who cares

Cut for length

Risotto would be the Minotaur:

(no connection to any stories)

There was no way out of the extensive labyrinth you were stuck in. No possible way for you to mark the places you had been before, as everything looked the same. The same dark stains on the cement walls, the same old bones littering the dirt floor, and the same large shadow of something not quite human lumbering it's way through the halls. Every time it moved you heard the faint jingling of bells and the drag of some large object behind it. Out of sheer curiosity you continued following the monster, naively hoping it would lead you to an exit. However, when it heard you trip, all of your silly little hopes scurried away.

"My my...what a precious little thing. Tell me, little one, what were you doing following me?" It said to you in a deep, rumbling voice while it slowly stalked towards your form. Looking up to address the creature, you gasped. It's sclera were as black as coal, it's irises as red as blood. A large ring hung from it's nose, his face looking like it had been sculpted by the Muses themselves. Scars littered it's chest as well as a strange necklace with bells hanging from the chain. Large ebony horns grew from the sides of it's head, poking out of dirty silver locks. In one hand it held a lantern, in the other was a large iron axe. Above the belt, the creature looked like a warrior, hardened from years on the battlefield. Below his waist he had the legs of a bull, his fur the same color as the hair on his head with black leather covering his groin. "Well? I expect an answer from you, mikro lagoudaki (little bunny). If you were following me, that must mean you were looking for me, naí (yes)? What could a sweet little thing like you want to do with me?"

Ghiaccio would be one of The Furies:

(no connection to any stories)

You knew all your life to be careful about breaking an oath. Your family had burned it into your brain that you should never keep promises that you couldn't fulfill, or demons from the deepest pits of Tartarus would come to take you away for years of torment. Your current lover, however, was unaware of these consequences. You found out about their unfaithfulness through a mutual friend, despite their promise to you. They had sworn you were the only person they were seeing, that they loved you more than anything, and you had believed them. The heartbreak you felt was immense after receiving the news, but was soon replaced with worry. Were all those stories you heard as a child true? Would your ex-lover be dragged into the Underworld for a torturous death?

Those questions were answered when you heard a blood-curdling scream coming from your shared bedroom. Immediately thinking the worst, you had rushed towards the room only to be stopped short by a creature with large, leathery wings protruding from it's bare back. Dark curls sprouted from it's scalp, as well as small blue snakes which flicked their tongues out at you. The monster's milky black eyes, leaking blood, were fixed on you as well. A clawed hand reached out for your face; the long, bloody nails only grazing your cheek lightly before the thing in front of you spoke,

"My sincerest apologies, nifáda chionioú (snowflake). I know how delicate your kind are, and this bástardos (bastard) took your trust and broke it." It said softly, twirling a piece of your hair in his fingers. You were frozen in place, unable to muster any response to his sympathetic words. "I would take much better care of you. Don't you think so?"

Illuso would be Scylla:

(he'd look more like this than just a thing with a shit ton of heads)

(direct connection to Sorbet and Gelato, referenced Melone and Pesci)

Sailing was never in your place of interest yet here you were, sitting on the deck of the great Odysseus' ship. You had already lost some of your crew to the cyclops, but after your run in with the minor god and enchanter Melone everyone had been on edge. Unfortunately, your fates would only get worse from here. A sweet song had entranced the crew into leading the ship into the narrow passage between the sea monster Illuso and the deadly whirlpool Charybdis. Although you had lost a member to the sirens, no other damage was done yet. Odysseus was confident in his ability to steer the ship safely between the two horrible dangers on either side of you, but a large tentacle crashing down on the stern dashed any hopes of making it out of this encounter alive.

"Well hello to you all! The sirens told me you fools would be here soon enough~" A smooth voice projected from the wreckage. The owner of said voice rose from the deep water, exposing his upper body. If the starry sky had any clouds, half of his face would be hidden within them. Long, dripping hair clung to his face and shoulders while crimson eyes glinted hungrily down at the ship. Tentacles on his lower body plucked crew members off the deck and serpentine monsters connected to his back tore the men in his grasp apart; a bone-chilling cackle emerging from his lips. Screams and bloodshed were all you could hear as you ran to hide in the cargo hold below deck. You prayed to the Gods above the creature tearing your crew apart wouldn't find you here, but of course they didn't listen. A large hand ripped away the top of your hiding place and he peered curiously down at you like a child would to an insect crawling along the ground. "Well well, and what do you think you're doing down here?" He spoke as one of his tentacles grabbed and held you in front of his face, "Were you hiding from me, my polýtimos líthos (precious gem)? How rude of you." He sneered, glaring at your struggling form. "Maybe you'll stop hiding once you get used to me, you mikroskopikó prágma (tiny little thing)." It spoke once more before swimming away from the wreckage and towards the island in the distance.

[edupunkn00b]

Revisions, Ch. 17: Enemies to Lovers

Prev - Enemies to Lovers - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

Tags: Human AU, Pining, Mutual Pining, Characters Writing Fanfiction, Slow Burn, Hanakahi Disease, Timeskip, Crossover, Fake Dating, Secret Royalty, They Were Roommates, Mind Control, Trapped in an Elevator, Only One Bed, Breaking the Fourth Wall, First Kiss, Huddling for Warmth, When Sides Go Feral, Mistaken Identity, Enemies to Lovers, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change, Remus likes to swear- WC: 2216

Following close behind Logan and keeping a tight grip around a half-drowsing Remus, Janus led them both to the couple's bedroom. He brought Remus into the bathroom but kept the door open, then poked out his head and called quietly to Logan.

"Would you mind bringing some clean pajamas for Remus? It's the second drawer from the bottom in his dresser." He flashed Logan a quick smile, then began to help Remus wash his face.

Pleased to have some small way to help, Logan tugged open the drawer and selected a pair of soft flannel pants and a matching T-shirt. He'd just closed the drawer when Janus added, "Boxers are in the top."

"Of c—course…" Logan opened the drawer and reached in, blindly pulling out the first thing that felt appropriate. Face on fire, he tucked them in between the T-shirt and pants and brought them to Janus.

"Thank you, Lo," Janus smiled and placed the clothes on the counter. Remus sat on the edge of the tub and leaned against the wall, apparently asleep. Janus followed his gaze and chuckled. "When he finally crashes… he crashes.” He looked back at Logan. "Please help yourself to anything from my dresser while I'm getting him ready."

Nodding, Logan quickly slipped away, closing the door behind him.

A few minutes later, Janus half-walked, half-carried Remus to the bed. Logan rushed to pull back a corner of the blanket and, together, they helped settle Remus in. Eyes still closed, he reached for the two of them with a grabby motion as they moved away, mumbling, "No… stay…."

Janus crouched down near his head, smoothed back his hair and whispered, "We just need our pajamas, Muse, then we'll be right back." Logan took his turn getting ready while Janus spoke quietly to Remus, softly kissing his hand.

When Logan was done, he slowly opened the door, speaking first before stepping into the room, “Janus are you…?”

With a soft chuckle, Janus quickly responded, “Come on in, Lo, the coast is clear.” He was tugging his shirt down over his chest and Logan looked away, mortified at the way his skin grew hot at the quick glimpse of Janus’ stomach before he went to brush his own teeth. Grow up!

I don’t know, Lo… Those are some pretty ‘grown-up’ thoughts you’re having there.

“Lo Lo?” Remus’ mumbled voice pulled him from his own thoughts and he knelt by the bed. Remus’ eyes were closed tightly, a little frown tugging on his lips. Logan wasn’t entirely sure he was even awake or simply dreaming.

“I’m here, Remus,” he whispered, not wanting to disturb him if he was actually asleep. “Did you need something?”

Fumbling one arm out from under the covers, Remus reached toward Logan, growing still once he’d found his face, cradling the side of his neck and brushing a thumb across his cheekbone.

Logan held his breath, leaning into his touch before he could think better of it. The heat from Remus’ hand sunk into his skin and his muscles, the warmth filling him until he thought he could breathe fire if he’d wanted. He recognized the gesture, a caress he’d seen Remus give Janus several times before. Oh fuck, he thinks I’m Janus.

But he called your name, Lo…

“Just this, Lo Lo,” Remus sighed, the little muscles in his eyelids and around his mouth relaxing again. “Just needed this.”

~~~~~

When Janus emerged, teeth brushed, and face washed and moisturized, he knelt next to Logan for a moment, smiling. “How’s he doing?”

“I think he’s asleep,” Logan whispered. “Should I…” He made a fluttering motion toward Remus’ hand where it still gently cradled his face.

Chuckling, Janus took Remus’ hand and kissed his palm before tucking his arm back under the covers. He turned to Logan, “Are you ready to lie down?” When Logan nodded, he plugged in his phone and checked the alarm, then turned off most of the lights in the room, leaving on a small night light on Remus’ side. Then, with a little nod to Logan, pulled back the covers and, as promised, slid into the middle of the bed.

Logan hesitated for only a moment before crawling in next to him and pulling up the covers, letting out a low sigh as he settled against the pillows, Janus’ body already warming the sheets.

“Are you warm enough? We have more blankets if—”

He nodded, smiling. “This is perfect, thank you.” He tried to joke, “I fear I’m going to have trouble going back to my own bed after this.”

Janus’ eyes shone in the dim diffuse light. “There are worse fates,” he said quietly, tucking his left arm into the space between Remus’ neck and the bed. In his sleep, Remus responded, rolling over and snuggling against Janus’ chest, tucking his head into the crook of his neck and wrapping an arm around his waist. Janus sighed contentedly, hugging Remus’ body against his side and turning his head toward Logan.

Logan shivered, recalling how warm he’d felt when he’d been tucked similarly against Janus’ side. He stretched, attempting to disguise the shudder with a yawn. He lay back against the pillows, but his skin buzzed pleasantly and he couldn’t keep his eyes closed.

“Is your nap making it difficult to fall asleep?” Janus whispered, something layered under his smile that Logan couldn’t quite read in the low light.

He chuckled quietly, “I believe so.” Lying there, inches from Janus and Remus, his thoughts were on everything but sleep.

Maybe Janus is thinking the same thing about you…

They are married. I am certain he is not and they would probably throw me out of the house if they had even an inkling of what I’m thinking about.

He shifted under the comforter, pushing away the errant thoughts. Janus and Remus. Janus and Remus. Janus and Remus.

“So… you and Remus…” Logan searched for something—anything—to say. “So you really started as roommates?”

Janus laughed quietly, a lovely low rumble in his chest that Logan could feel through the mattress below them. “Yes… it, um… We did not start well….” He chuckled again. “If someone had told me I’d just met my future husband, I would’ve laughed… and probably looked for a nice sharp object.”

~~~~~

Janus lugged his wheeled duffel bag up the last step to the fourth floor of Greatneck Hall and panted, leaning against the railing. With his phobia, he was accustomed to taking the stairs, and ordinarily, four flights were nothing. But with his double-sized pack strapped to his back, the over-stuffed Ikea bag pulling down one shoulder and the heavy duffel bag he dragged up the stairs, he was weighed down far more than ordinary.

With the exception of the faded grey '92 Honda Civic a half-mile away in First Year student parking, Janus currently carried with him the entirety of his worldly belongings. While it wasn’t much, after four flights, he felt every ounce of it.

But he’d made it.

With a tired smile, he pulled open the heavy fire door to the staircase and was greeted by loud music and even more raucous singing echoing through the hallway. He shook his head. Good luck to whoever drew the short straw and ended up with Pavarotti down there.

He made his way down the corridor, searching for room 419. Even-numbered doors were on the left and odd on the right. When he’d gotten half-way down the hallway and the music continued to grow louder, his stomach sank to his feet. Oh, fuck no. Just no. He continued to check each door, hope dwindling as each number grew larger and the shouted singing grew louder.

413, 415, 417…

Janus stood in front of room 419, the fresh paint that covered the chipped surface underneath practically vibrating from the bass booming on the other side of the door. In one last burst of optimism, Janus double checked his dorm assignment letter. Greatneck Hall, Room 419. Dorm Mate: R. Prince.

Letting out a slow breath—this can’t be worse than home used to be—he opened the door.

I get knocked down but I get up again You’re never gonna keep me down I get knocked down but I get up again You’re never gonna keep me down I get knocked down but I get up again

A tall man with spiky green hair and a bushy green mustache danced around the room, singing at the top of his lungs. He was barefoot, dressed in a thin T-shirt and tight, ripped jeans with a rainbow flag patch on one pocket and the words ‘smart ass’ in sparkly jewels glued on the other.

He flung clothes from a large tote bag in the general direction of one of the closets, stopping only when he uncovered a small box of what looked like pastels, for which he paused his dancing long enough to place almost reverently into the top drawer of his dresser.

He then immediately returned to yanking the clothes from the bag and throwing them at his closet.

“Hello?!” Janus shouted over the music, knocking loudly on the door. “Hello, are you Prince?”

He stepped into the room, the wheel of his duffel bag catching on the doorframe as he struggled to squeeze through with all of his bags. He grit his teeth, his head pounding to the beat of the music. Finally, he abandoned his bags in the doorway and stormed over to the speaker that visibly vibrated with the music pouring from it.

Janus found the volume controls and turned it down. The man spun around, scowling, his expression quickly bursting into a broad smile as he looked Janus up and down.

“Hey!” The man said, raising his arms over his head. The hem of his shirt followed, revealing the edges of an intricate tattoo. “You must be Loogie!”

Janus dropped the speaker into an open duffel bag on the man’s bed. “It’s Lyubov,” he snarled, glaring at the man’s broad grin. “But if that’s too difficult for you to manage, you can simply call me Janus.”

The man waved a hand and returned to his unpacking. “Ya znayu eto. Ya prosto trakhayus' s toboy.” (I know, just fucking with you.)

“You speak Russian.” Janus narrowed his eyes and took a step backwards.

“Eh, not really,” he laughed. “I learned some swear words and enough to fuck with you when I saw your last name on my roommate match.” He flung a pair of jeans at his closet, ignoring when they caught on his desk for a moment before sliding into the empty waste bin. “Did you know your name means ‘love?’”

“Of course I knew that,” he snapped, storming off to the doorway to retrieve his bags. The man followed, kicking his clothes out of the way and holding the door open wide to make room. “I suppose that makes you Prince,” Janus added, looking over his shoulder.

“Yep, that’s me.” He leaned against the door, hands in his pockets. “So, what happened to your face?”

Janus flushed, eyes shooting daggers back. “That’s an awfully personal question to ask someone you’ve just met.”

Prince shrugged. “I could ask now or I could ask tomorrow. What’s the difference?”

He sighed. The man had a twisted point. “Fine. You know how people always say, ‘You should see the other guy?’”

“Yeah,” Prince leaned forward, eyes twinkling.

“I’m the other guy.”

Prince plopped himself onto Janus’ bare mattress and grinned up at him. “Fuck! Whaddja do?”

“You know, Prince—” He narrowed his eyes. He still did not know this man’s first name.

“Remus,” he said, waggling his eyebrows and spreading out on Janus' bed. “But I’ll respond to anything you’d want to call me, baby, so….”

“Remus,” Janus enunciated. “I am… flattered by your interest in my personal life, however I do not know you nearly well enough to discuss this with you.” Lips pressed together, he looked around at the clothes strewn about the room, the large, folded easel laid out across the desk, and the strange, grinning green goblin draped over his bed.

Janus’ head still pounded from the music and his skin itched at the chaos his new roommate had managed to create in the few hours he’d been there.

Lips curled in disgust, he pulled his jacket from the Ikea bag. He patted the pockets, checking that he had his phone, keys, and wallet. “I need some air. I’ll be back later. I would appreciate it if you were not on my bed and you did not touch my belongings while I am gone.” He opened the door and glared at Remus as he left. “Or else you might end up like ‘the other guy.’”

~~~~~

“Fascinating,” Logan whispered, engrossed in Janus’ tale. “I… I had always pictured more of a ‘love at first sight’ moment between the two of you.” They both smiled as Remus shifted against Janus’ chest, drawing his arm tighter around his waist. The sleeping man’s face softened when Janus began to card his fingers through his hair. “You’re both so… wonderful….” Logan murmured. His eyes shot up at Janus’ and he stammered to add, “W—wonderful together….”

Janus’ smile sparked a toasty glow in Logan’s chest and he inched closer to the source of that warmth. “We certainly got off on the wrong foot… but… but it’s Remus.” He shrugged slightly, turning his head to face Logan completely. “Once you see into his heart… He’s impossible to resist.”

taglist: @mavenmush @melaniidarling @braingoburr @lunatatic @demon9980 @crossiantgay @psychedelicships @justmeandmygayships @ts-creator-boost @bluerosesbleedred @tsfanficarchive @tsshipmonth2020