#dug staring at the skyline all

[shroudandsands]

Prompt #24, Extra Credit: Tenebrous

He stared up at the faded sky. Rain fell like darklit glitter as old fluorescent light bleached out the darkened clouds. Sunset was 22 minutes ago. The woman who pulled him out of the wreck- Sif, she’d told him- was off to the side and staring into her phone screen. She’d been staring at it for 43 minutes. Her expression kept getting worse.

He turned his attention back to the streets. Regular nightlife was resuscitated by the falling of the sun but... not out here. Not like this. It was distant. The motel they’d holed up in was closer to the city, sure, but it was still on the outskirts. Just a comfortable distance from being able to haul ass out into the badlands. Just far enough if you’re spooked. Nomad habits. He was fairly sure of that. Frankly it was what astounded him the most. She could have hauled ass sixteen different ways at 100 mph away from him and yet... He looked over at her again. His optics clicked in his head- an annoyance he had quickly gotten used to- as he looked at her screen. Ripperdocs. SelfMed. Searching for everything wrong with him. She’d even tried to get someone to look him over. Not that it mattered much. He didn’t think there was much worth finding. Much worth knowing. Some part of him felt that deep into his core. Maybe even into his circuits. Maybe in the rubber bands that were currently in his arms. But it still confounded him every second that passed.

Something in the back of Dug’s head buzzed as he turned slightly. He frowned and pressed the spot with his palm; a meaningless gesture that he knew wouldn’t quiet it. A short circuit? A failed part? Some transmitter that was calling home? Whatever it was? He couldn’t tell. He didn’t care. For some reason it felt freeing not to. For some reason it felt freeing to let it go. To stare up at the skyline and just feel... Relief. He wished he knew why THAT was his first reaction.

Still. Between the circuits in his head and the rubber bands in his arms, the pain in his head and the fog in his memories, the black space that existed before he woke up in that junkyard with nothing but a seething hatred for that skyline... Sif sat down beside him, deflated, after her search proved more frustrating than fruitful. She limply held her phone as she settled in. “Nothin’?” “Nothin’.” She seemed more frustrated than despaired. Angry. At herself? Him? Useless net diagnosis sites? He did see the cyberpsychosis note. It was fairly believable. But he laughed- the short, light kind when you push yourself up to standing. “C’mon. I think... I’m rememberin’ a place. Don’t even gotta go int’ the city proper.” He jabbed a thumb down a street that ran parallel to the edge. “Migh’ be crazy. Bu’ someone oughta be there tha’ can do some lookin’. If we’re wantin’ tha’ kind of work done anyhow.”

She stared up at him like he was crazy. No specific examples of crazy. Just... crazy. He was getting used to that look. He grinned. They hopped into her truck and prayed for the best.

[theonlyhonoredone]

Love You Like No Tomorrow

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Reader

Warnings: none

Summary: The story of how you and Satoru got married

Masterlist

It was the middle of summer when Satoru raised the question. A bored evening, the two of you were sitting on the balcony sharing some strawberry cake. He had been staring at you for a while, obviously deep in thought. You let him play with whatever was in his mind until you reached the last bite of dessert, finally deciding to ask him what he was thinking about. He’d looked at you very seriously for a long time before finally answering.

“I want to marry you,” he stated.

You nearly choked, your eyes growing wide in surprise, “Excuse me?”

“I want to marry you,” he repeated, “Not some big wedding thing, just you and I. I want you to be my wife.”

“I-” you paused because while the idea wasn’t unwelcome he had totally blindsided you, “Why are you bringing this up now? Did something happen?”

He had a bad habit of burying his problems. Often refusing to speak about something until he was on the verge of breaking.

“Nah, I was just staring at you and you’ve got these crumbs on the side of your mouth,” he reached over to wipe them with his thumb, “And I was thinking about how cute you look like that and then I thought, who thinks someone looks cute with a bunch of crumbs on their face? Must be because I’m in love with you, and I already knew that but I was just thinking if I already wanna be with you forever and you obviously feel the same way why don’t we just get married already?” He licked his thumb and leaned back, propping his hands behind his head. “I don’t wanna wait anymore, I wanna do it right now.”

You couldn’t help laughing, “Who says I feel the same way?”

He turned to you with a big smile, “Don’t play coy, I’ve got you whipped.”

“I believe it’s the other way around, actually.”

“It goes both ways, how about that?” 

You nodded in agreement, “Okay, fine, we’re both whipped and we wanna be together forever.”

Your eyes danced over the Tokyo skyline as you let his proposition sink in. It was surprising, Satoru loved to be the center of attention so you couldn’t imagine he’d pass up the chance to have some big flashy wedding. That wasn’t something you’d want, it always seemed more romantic to you to confess your deepest feelings in private. When you declared your undying love for Satoru you wanted him to be the only one to hear it. Really thinking about it made you realize how much you hated the idea of some big ceremony. Months or even years of planning, all the anxiety and anticipation of making everything perfect. Then having to share all your deepest feelings in front of a big crowd. Plus with Satoru’s status in the Jujustu world it’d inevitably become some sort of political ordeal.

“You’re okay with us just running off to do this? No party, no big celebration, nothing?” You questioned him to make sure he was really sure about it before you agreed.

He grabbed his chin, rubbing it as the scenario passed through his mind. “Yeah, I mean a party would be fun, but I don’t wanna wait all that time. We can plan some party later, oh and a honeymoon, we gotta have one of those,” he nodded as he imagined all the locations you could go, “But the actual marriage part, I don’t need that to be for anyone but us. If you want that stuff though, we can wait.”

“I don’t want it, actually I kind of hate the idea of it all,” you confessed. “It seems stressful, I’d rather it just be us.”

His eyes widened excitedly and he leaned forwards in his chair, just barely sitting on it’s edge. “Let’s go do it now then! We can go to one of those drive-thru places! It’ll be fun, and then we can go on a mini honeymoon tomorrow!”

You laughed at his excitement, “Well I at least want a white dress Toru, and I want you to wear a suit. Why don’t we plan it for this weekend or something?”

“Nah, I wanna do it tonight! If you want to get dressed up we can,” he dug into his wallet and passed you a card, “We’ll go get you a dress and me a suit and then we can head over! We can go right at sunset!”

The excitement in his big blue eyes was too overwhelming for you to deny him so you nodded and let him hoist you out of your chair. You rushed over to the shopping district you frequented and gave yourselves both an hour to get ready. You found the perfect little white dress, it hugged you just right and you found yourself getting emotional in the fitting room. Off the shoulder with long sleeves, hitting you just above the knee, pretty feathers wrapping around the collar and top of the sleeves. It was simple elegance, paired with a pair of sweet kitten heels it really made you feel like a bride. You swiped the dress and changed into it right away, having to run back to the car to meet Satoru in time. He had found himself a deep blue suit and paired it with a baby blue button up and some black formal shoes. He looked incredibly handsome, his eyes no longer hidden by the sunglasses he’d worn on the way there. 

“You’re beautiful,” he wrapped his arms around you and spun you around with a big smile.

“So are you,” you cooed back at him, stealing a quick kiss. “Are we really gonna do this?”

He nodded, “Obviously, come on I even got you this,” he presented you with a jewelry box which made you gasp.

“How did you have the time…” you trailed off as he opened the box, revealing it to be totally empty inside. “That’s mean Toru!”

He laughed and tossed the box into the back seat, “I didn’t actually have time, that’s just an old box. I got you this though,” he pulled a candy ring from his pocket, making you burst into a fit of laughter, “It’ll have to do for now alright?”

You nodded and presented your hand to him, “Come on, you’re supposed to put it on me.”

“Not yet, you have to wait until we actually get married,” he winked and opened the car door for you, “Come on pretty.”

You grinned as you buckled yourself in, the candy ring seated in your lap as Satoru sped through the city. You were both laughing the whole time, grinning like idiots as you pulled into the drive-thru. Satoru explained excitedly that you wanted to get married right now because you were madly in love. You two were told to sign some papers and they offered you a veil for the photos. A man dressed as a priest led you through a quick ceremony and simple vows. Satoru slid his candy ring onto your finger and dipped you back as dramatically as he could for your first kiss. A young giggling girl took a million pictures and babbled about how cute she thought you were. In the end you left with a bundle of printed out pictures of the two of you and a real marriage license. 

“I can’t believe it,” you gripped the license as Satoru drove you back towards your home, “This is like, for real Satoru. We actually are married.”

He took your hand and kissed the candy ring on your finger, “It’s not real until we consummate it.”

Laughter bubbled up from your chest once again, “Shut up perv.”

“Hey, that’s no way to speak to your husband,” he teased.

“Well you shouldn’t be acting like a perv Toru, you’re a married man you know?”

He was smiling ear to ear, “That’s even more reason for me to be a perv don’t you think? Now that I’ve got the prettiest wife in the whole world, I mean how can I be expected to keep my hands off my pretty, perfect wife?”

“I don’t know, I can’t keep mine of my handsome, strong husband,” you took one of his hands in yours. “So I guess you’ve got a point there.”

When you got home Satoru carried you to your room and tossed you onto the bed. You spent your night rolling around in the sheets, giving in every single time Satoru asked for just one more. How could you even deny such a doting husband after all? You worked yourselves until you were exhausted, falling asleep tangled up together with your bedroom looking like it’d been hit by a hurricane. Even when the morning came you didn’t care to clean up, instead opting to spend your makeshift honeymoon tucked into your big bed together sucking on your candy ring.

[heavenlyraindrops]

♱Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Twenty Four♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Twenty Four Warnings: profanity, Visit my pinned post to see all other chapters.

♱ In which the purest soul in Heaven falls from grace… for the Devil. ♱

[Chapter Twenty Four]

You dove into the red sky, wind tearing past your face as your eyes scoured the city skyline for the telltale silhouette of the Hotel, which Velvette had described to you- Velvette who was now clinging to your back.

“You’re quite light,” you said, raising your voice above the powerful beats of your voice. 

“Oh, shut up and fly,” Velvette scoffed into your ear, breath and body emanating heat. A few moments of silence, then: “There!”

Her arm shot out to point at the building looming up on your right. You were about to go there anyways- you could see the massive battle occurring from miles away, black tentacles lashing against electric blue sparks. You swerved and Velvette yelped, her grip on you tightening. 

Your feet hit the ground and Velvette slid off, tensing as you both assessed the situation. You dove to the ground, knocking her down with you as a black tentacle lashed out. 

“Fuck,” you cursed, crawling to safety. She followed suit and you twisted round. “I’ll drag Vox out and you direct the backup while I try and calm Alastor from his little…” you glanced around. “…Tantrum. Okay?”

Velvette rolled her eyes but nodded, standing up and dusting herself off. You dove back into the fray, rising up with your wings spread. Forcing through the weaving threats of blue electricity you grabbed Vox’s shoulders.

“Goddamnit, Vox!” You yelled. He turned around. There were angry, digital tears streaming down his face. “Get the fuck out of here!”

There was a hole ripped in his shoulder. Electric wires and blood seeped from the wound. “I-“

“You’re fucking losing!” You pointed at Alastor, who’d slowly begun to shrink back at normal size upon seeing you. “Get over your crush and get out of here!”

“I don’t-“ 

And conveniently, he short circuited.

You groaned, tossing his jerking body to Velvette who cradled it in her arms, punching in the digits of what you assumed was the backup- which you had called prior, but seemed to be running late- into her phone. 

You whipped around, body tensed, turning your attention to Alastor. Now, surely he’d go back to normal, you were both acquainted, you could have a civil conversation-

A tentacle wrapped around your waist, crushing the breath out of you. 

Inside the hotel, Lucifer pressed his hands to the glass on the window. Charlie stood next to him, watching the scene with wide eyes. “Do you think we should intervene?” She asked nervously.

“No, it’s-“ his breath caught as you appeared on the scene. “[name] seems to be, uh,” he cleared his throat. “Dealing with it, apparently.”

Charlie’s shoulders sagged in relief as Alastor shrunk down slightly. 

���Wait, fuck, why is he- why the fuck is he provoking her?” Lucifer spat, nails dragging down the glass. 

Outside, still in the crushing grip of Alastor’s shadow tentacle, you let out a piercing scream of anger and frustration. 

Alastor’s eyes narrowed, smile widening until his face split into two. Yes, this was perfect- he’d simply have to rile you up, just a little, and you’d eventually burst. 

You dug your nails into the coiled appendage which constricted your ribs, twisting and turning as you tried to worm your way out of its grip. “Alastor, if you don’t let go of me right now-“

He raised you to his face, eyes sparking. “Tell me, [name], how does it feel to be exiled from your own home?”

“What?” You blinked, caught off guard. 

He trailed a claw along the side of your cheek. “You have no one now. Lost, abandoned, forced to unite with the Vees of all people as a last resort.” A laugh rumbled deep in his throat. “It seems as though you’ve hit rock bottom.”

Yes, rile her up. 

You stared at him, heart pounding, bile rising.  

“What do you know,” you managed to utter. He grinned. 

“I don’t need to know, I can see. Anyone can see.”

Lucifer was prepared to slam his head into the glass. “What the fuck is he doing.”

Charlie shuddered. “Dad…”

“I knew it, Apple Pie. I told you.” He thrust his hand at the scene unfolding in front of them. “He lied, he’s doing this on purpose. Why else would he say that to [name]?” Fire burned in his gut, licking its way up his throat. How dare Alastor even lay a single finger on you, let alone talk to you about-

“Come on!” Charlie raced out, flinging the door in her wake. Lucifer stared after her, then followed suit. 

“Do you get it?” Alastor murmured to you. His eyes held pity. It was nauseating. Something burned hot beneath your skin. Your body jerked. “Why even try? There isn’t anything left for you now.” 

Your skin pulled away to reveal eyes.

Charlie put her hand on Lucifer's arm. Vaggie stumbled out. “Dad… Vaggie…” 

Alastor hissed as the tentacle sizzled, falling away in burning golden dust as you jerked back again, wings growing, body separating from what was normal; you could see. Everywhere. You could see. Your hair whipped around your head, halo extending past the horns that sprouted from your head.

Horns?

Your angelic form didn’t have horns-

Oh.

You opened your mouth in a soundless scream, lashing out with your hands. The eyes on your skin and wings pulsed. Alastor shot back, snapping to normal size as he slammed into the Hotel’s wall, which crumbled a little.

He groaned, and stirred, but didn’t move past that. Blood dripped down his chin.

“Alastor!” Charlie gasped, stumbling towards him. Vaggie grabbed her wrist and pulled her back, shaking her head. 

“What did you…” you gasped. The eyes pulsed harder, burning on your skin. Your halo was made of fire. It singed your hair. You tried to pull away from yourself. They were burning- your eyes were burning.  

They were red. 

They weren’t supposed to be red. They aren’t supposed to be red. You thrashed around, another piercing scream ripping from your throat, this time one of fear. It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it-

They all opened at once, settling crazedly at Charlie and Lucifer and Vaggie, all of who were staring at you in shock. Your heart wrenched. 

Don’t look at me.

You wanted more than nothing than to crawl into your own skin and never come out again. 

I’m a monster. 

“What’s wrong with her?” Charlie gasped, her voice coming out as a quiet murmur. Vaggie intertwined their arms. 

“I don’t know,’ she replied, voice shaking.

“She’s not used to it,” Lucifer said sharply, pushing past them. “The demon form, it’s hurting-“

He didn’t finish his sentence before suddenly unfurling his wings and thrusting himself at you. 

“No!” You screamed, flinching away, pulling your hands up to hide your face. Lucifer hissed and you lowered them, trembling, as blood seeped from a gash on his cheek. 

You flew back, voice quivering. “Don’t come near me,” you hissed. But he did anyways, grabbing your wrist. A sob tore from your throat as you tried to wrench your arm away, kicking out with your legs, but his grip simply tightened as his other hand grabbed your waist and his tail coiled around your legs, restricting your movements as you both plummeted to the ground. 

Pain bloomed in between your shoulder blades and the back of your skull as your head hit the ground, and Lucifer hissed too, grabbing you to try and reduce the impact of the fall, despite the fact he was affected too. 

You lay trembling on the ground, as Lucifer pinned you there, knee in between your legs and hands gripping your wrists as his wings shielded both of you. You were sobbing freely now, the fire sizzling in your veins slowly ebbing away, your burning eyes closing and disappearing one by one. Reality, solid being gripped your body. The world spun. 

Velvette stepped towards the huddle of wings and feathers, but Vaggie darted out, jerking her spear at the doll. “Away,” she growled. Hurt twisted across Velvette’s face, but she scowled, quickly replacing it with hostility as she grabbed Vox’s limp body.

“Fine,” she spat, dragging him over as a car with the Vees’s logo pulled up. She tossed him into the back seat, clambering in after him, shooting you one last concerned look and Vaggie a hateful one as the vehicle rolled off. 

You were still shaking as tears slipped from your eyes, hyperventilating. “L-lucifer, I…” your words were so slurred and broken you had to stop, whimpers still escaping from your throat. “I’m sorry,” you sobbed. Your vision was too blurry to see his face properly. 

He pressed his forehead to your shoulder, your cheek wet with tears next to his, and let out a small sigh. You started crying even harder. “Lucifer please, I'm really sorry. I swear.” Your crying had grown almost hysterical. 

“Hush,” he murmured, and his wings rustled above you. “You’re safe now, darling.” His lips moved against your cheek. “You’re with me now.”

You were still gasping for air, and he let out another slow, long sigh, stroking your hair until you calmed down enough to speak. 

“Y-you must- you must hate me now,” you choked out. He let out a small, half-hearted chuckle, shaking his head softly.

“I don’t hate you, darling.” He closed his eyes. Your sobs faded to quiet hiccups as your breathing slowed. “I… I love you.”

Your heart almost tore in two. Your eyes welled up again. “R-really?”

He pressed his lips to your forehead. “Really.”

You dissolved into another fit of sobs, flinging your arms around his neck and pulling him down flush against you to bury your head in his shoulder. “Oh my god, oh my god Lucifer I’m so sorry.” Your entire body shook.

“You don’t need to be,” he reassured you, as you dug your hands into his back. 

“I love you too,” you cried. 

He smiled softly, letting out a soft breath. It skimmed your cheek, and you relaxed, body unwinding its tensed state. You didn’t know how long you both lay there, heartbeats and breaths syncing together, until exhaustion caught up to you, dragging you down to the depths of sleep. 

[krahk]

Blood for Ruin

Master list

Part One : Part Two : Part Three : Part Four : Part Five : Part Six : Part Seven : Part Eight

Alastor x OFC/Reader (no use of Y/N)

Part Nine

(Or, Alastor realizes he’s in a heap of trouble and desperate to make up for lost time. Sex-sually. But seriously this chapter has 0 plot.)

Minors DNI, 18+ Below

A soft, circling sensation on your shoulder had you waking from a comforting sleep. Yawning and cracking your eyes open, you woke to a warm chest with your hand pressed to it, revelling in the soft fuzz that covered it entirely. Alastor was looking straight up to the skyline, not that there was much to see past the thick trees and hazy fog, but he seemed deep in thought.

Shifting your legs as your body woke from sleep, the evidence of what you and he did the night before was still settled between your thighs, now sticky and the cause of some discomfort. As you shifted, his embrace tightened slightly and he flipped his attention to you.

His face was placid, and there wasn’t a massive grin present on his face. Simply a note of almost…contentment was visible. The two of you stared at each other, and it seemed that you realised at the same time that your connection had become something greater overnight.

Before, it was just a rush of blood that reminded the two of you how you were interconnected. Now, whether it was from the deal Alastor had made or the sexual connection you shared - it was simply stronger now. It was as if you could feel each other's souls dancing around, folding within one another, mixing essences while the two of you lay on the ground.

Unfamiliar with the magic, you chose to ignore it in lieu of awkwardly getting up to make your way to the bathroom, desperate to pee and to attempt a cleanup of the fluids that remained from your previous actions. Generally unashamed of your figure you made no attempt to cover yourself as you rose from your position, but you could feel, like really feel his eyes on you as you could feel that familiar burn below your navel as you walked away from the man. You were not embarrassed to be in such a state since the night before Alastor had generally feasted on your figure anyway - what point was there to modesty now?

When you arrived in the bathroom you took a sharp inhale at your appearance. Teeth marks and love bites peppered your body, but it was your hair that really took a beating. You look well rested enough, but your hair had turned into a rather aggressive birds nest, in fact birds may have already landed, who could tell?

You quickly relieved yourself and tried your best to clean up between your legs, but there appeared to be nothing you could do for your hair. You inspected the rest of your person by catching all angles in the mirror. Dirt on your elbows, shoulders, there were clear grass streaks on your upper back and arms as well, and the heel that wasn’t propped against Alastors shoulder from the night before had really dug into the earth and left a reminder on how intense the night was.

A soft knock made Alastor known, as he had already started opening the door before you could invite him in. In a similar state, you each fed on one another in the light. He had similar grass burn marks on his knees, his hands were painted with dirt, however -

“How dare you, you bastard-“ You started, “How can you wake up and look that fucking dapper first thing in the morning?” You gestured to his perfect hair, each strand in its place, ears standing to attention, no kink like your own had suffered in the night. You sputtered a few more statements at your own expense, asking him straight up if he used magic. Your exclamation finally had him smile since you woke, and he let out a sharp laugh as you became slightly more unhinged as you compared your two states of being. He passed you as you pointed out a few key differences in the mirror, and turned on his rather large shower. There was no bathtub, Alastor seemed like a ‘a bathroom is a place for cleaning purposes only, no enjoyment or lingering,’ kind of guy. But he quickly had the room building with steam as he half stood in the open door of his shower.

You had long silenced your rambling at this point, in awe of his lithe naked figure moving around. He was quite slim, his regular suit hiding no secrets except what he hid below his belt, but each limb was covered in well toned muscle. Fully extended, he had one hand under the water, testing the temperature, and you awkwardly stood at the door to the living area, grasping onto the handle to open it and give him the privacy of a shower while you went to your own bathroom. But one of his shadows interfered, keeping you from opening the door. Confused, you looked over to the demon, and he had offered his hand to you, slightly flicking his fingers in a ‘come here’ gesture.

You accepted his hand, allowing him to pull you into the shower with him. You welcomed the hot, hotter than usual, water onto your body, and your audible groan of pleasure made the two of you twitch as a ripple effect. Working in silence, you let Alastor move your body around the space to have the water hit every part of you.

Suddenly he had soapy hands in your hair, shampooing it vigorously, something you gladly let him do. This was almost as nice as the night you just shared. He lathered a cloth and in silence, started from your neck and shoulders, soaping your entire figure, paying close attention to your breasts, causing nipples to peak painfully. By the time he started to clean your lower back he drifted lower still, paying extra attention to the apex of your thighs, cloth slipping at every other pass so his fingers grazed your naked sex.

He bent down, on one knee, and continued to clean you. The steam was getting to you, and you had closed your eyes to revel in the ministrations of the man, wondering if his avoidance of sexual partners was merely because if everyone knew of the attention he gave would have people lined up at his door. As the water rinsed off your soapy bubbles, he trailed a finger up from your ankle, slowly raising it until it settled on your jawline, making you catch his eyes with your own.

You could tell your pupils were blown out, because your reflection was present in the man's large eyes. He leaned down and offered a slight peck upon your lips, one that quickly evolved into something stronger. Desperate for a taste, the two of you fought tongues, each grasping each other's hair to get closer, and for a moment, it was forgotten that you were in a shower.

As the kiss broke for air, you grabbed the cloth and lathered it up, determined to repay him for his attention. You started at his shoulders, to his chest, softly smiling as you noticed his fuzz caught the bubbles, lathering quickly into a thick layer of foam. You skipped over his cock, still somewhat hesitant to be so bold, and started from his ankles up, moving to the back of him. Once you saw it, you could barely hold in the sound of glee you made, resulting in his groaning chuckle at your reaction.

He did have a tail. It was slimmer than your own, and all black, pressed almost against his back from where it protruded from his tailbone. You grazed it with your fingers, and Alastor shivered, growled, and slammed his hands against the wall of the shower to brace himself. Completely overtaken by the sensation you felt from him and the reaction it caused, you paid closer attention to it, claws running up and down it. You spread the hair on it around, being sure to thoroughly clean it. His hips started to react, bucking into the air with every scratch. He uttered your name almost in a warning, and you eased up on it. It was less about threatening harm in his growl, and more letting you know what you could expect if you continued.

Choosing torture, you released his tail and moved on, rubbing the cloth over his behind, small but firm, and then running it up his back. The furry fuzz was denser here, long enough that your fingers could almost pinch it between them. The soap lathered thickly, and you took a moment to play with the soap lines. First an ‘A’ for his name, before flattening out the soap and putting the first letter of your own name on the entirety of his back before putting a circle around it, letting out a short bark of laughter at it.

“What, may I ask, is going on back there?” He said, struggling for control, his voice deep and timbered with pleasure.

”Mmm, branding you, good sir.” You announced, tracing the letter again so he could feel what you wrote. His smile could be seen from behind, and you heard a snort of air release from his nose. You wiped away the evidence before moving to his shoulders. He stepped into the water more, allowing the soap to rinse down his body. You had decided that you were, in fact, bold enough and reached around him, cloth in hand, and grabbed his cock, causing him to immediately rut into your grip with a gasp. He stuttered slightly, either trying to ask what you were doing, or say your name - who knew, the blood was pounding in your ears.

”Well Alastor, we’ve got to clean everywhere, I thought…” You said toward his ears, though a distance from your mouth, they still picked up your quiet voice.You waited for him to tell you to stop, which he did not, and you took that to continue. Blindly, you washed him, intermittently swapping firm and soft pressure as you ran up and down the length of him. When you reached the base you travelled below to grasp his balls, being sure to capture each one and give them attention. You could feel your cheeks on fire, this was very bold for you, but something made you keep going, be it the sounds he was making or your own pleasure that you received in return. He started to increase his rutting hips, and his dick became thicker, when you decided it was an appropriate time for some certain payback.

You released him and started back up his chest, cloth swirling around his pectorals, and began to wash one of his arms as he released a breath of air and started to shake with contained laughter. You smirked, understanding he figured out what you were doing, and kept up the innocent ministrations like that of a dutiful nurse, washing a patient without any ulterior motive. You dropped the cloth and let him stand in the shower, letting him feel the painful burn of being edged, and as he turned around to face you, eyes clouded with pleasure and cheeks flushed red, he hummed a sound of discontent.

“You must think you’re something funny, my dear.” He stated, hand grasping his cock, now weeping from the attention you had given it. You tried to mimic a look of confusion, innocently asking what he meant. He darted his eyes between his cock and your face and hmmphed loudly. You laughed.

”Are you…pouting?” You said in disbelief. “The mighty Radio Demon, pouting?” You mocked him lightly, knowing that his ego would only let you tread a fine line before he would lose his temper. “Well…I suppose I should fix that.” You smiled at him before grabbing both of his shoulders and turning the both of you around so the water was hitting your back and Alastor was almost against the opposite wall. You dropped to your knees, and his eyes widened at this action. Something courageous was running through your clouded mind at his moment, and you were set on repaying the favour of his actions in your bedroom the few nights before.

He choked out a couple of syllables before pressing his lips in a wry, twisted smile as you grasped him cloth free. Eye to eye with his cock, you traced the thickest vein with your forefinger, hitting the base and coming back to the weeping head. He twitched in your grasp, and suddenly you felt quite powerful. You held in your hand the Radio Demon, and the blazing look of lust that ran across his face made you feel wildly in control. You wrapped your hand around him, thumb and middle finger the only parts that could touch, and ran it back down to the base again. He shuddered, you licked your lips and reached your tongue out to taste the weeping fluid from the tip. You heard, rather than saw, his head hit the wall, and his body slumped against it, causing you to move closer on your knees, pinning him between you and the shower.

Circling the tip with your tongue, the taste was bitter, but not terrible. It was warm and salty, but you fed more on his response. Your eyes were open, curious about his reactions, but once you made eye contact with him, he covered his face with his hands and looked up to the ceiling.

You pushed your head forward and captured the tip within your warm mouth, trying to move your tongue around for extra stimulation. You could understand now why tongue rings were as popular as they were. You smiled at this thought, and it caused your teeth to graze him, getting a guttural moan from the man. You started slowly, trying to adjust your jawline to accommodate more of him, and began bobbing your head in a steady, smooth rhythm.

His hips started to roll towards you, and you took both hands and pushed against them to hold him against the wall. If it wasn’t clear who was in control at this moment you were making it so. He stopped his movement, and you made eye contact briefly, a surely demonic smile taking over your features as he flared up in a brighter blush. From his perspective, you looked like an otherworldly nymph, glowing and glorious in stature, his most sensitive part of him between your teeth.

He relinquished control to you, a displeasure that lingered momentarily as you started moving your head, your warm mouth pumping around him. As your mouth would focus around his tip, his shaft felt the cold burn of exposed air hitting where your saliva had lingered. This was nearly painful, and as he recalled your complaints many weeks ago when you expressed your disbelief at causing you revolving waves of pleasure while you were out with the group, he understood what he thought was misplaced rage was actually quite appropriate. You were a temptress at his time, and he was at your mercy.

Each movement towards his body had a bit more of him being welcomed into your hot mouth, and it only took a few strokes and bobs of your head to pick up the speed afterwards. He suddenly jerked his hips when you accepted another stretch of him, it was not on purpose but it certainly was unexpected, and you gagged violently, removing your mouth and coughing from the sensation. Your eyes were watering and, and a trail of drool had escaped your mouth and dribbled down your chin as you regained your breath. He didn’t apologise, it wasn’t a purposeful action, but as you stared at his cock you had a determined look, and just as he was about to tell you he was fine you aggressively took him in your mouth again, this time with renewed vigour. His words became strangled as he braced one hand against the wall and another reached out to your head, resting below the junction where your ear connected. As he massaged where your ear connected to your scalp and it gave you pleasurable chills in return.

You were pushing his limits, as every time you gagged on him the sound he made was addicting. He was becoming unravelled in your actions, and you had been criticised on your head skills overworld, but Alastor was not as experienced or open to these sorts of activities, so his judgement was essentially nonexistent.

Head bouncing, you could feel the build of tension of his cock in your mouth, and you were tasting more salty fluid escaping him as you continued. Somewhere you heard a broken version of your name as both of his hands grabbed your head and he suddenly began pumping furiously, fucking your mouth with a raging ferver. You relinquished control, keeping your mouth open and tongue moving as his instinct took over, and finally with a few jagged thrusts of his hips his orgasm shot out of him, filling your mouth with his seed, hot, salty and plentiful. You swallowed with each thrust, not enjoying the sensation of it running down your chin (plus you both JUST got clean). He removed himself from your mouth, and you coughed, trying to suck in air and you looked up at him, revelling in the disbelief present on his face.

You smiled widely, and opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out to show him proof you had swallowed his gift. He had covered his mouth with one hand, the other still settled on your head. He took in your watery eyes, a few tears had run down your cheeks but were quick to be washed away as you were still being hit by the water coming from the shower. You stood up, unfolding your tense body from kneeling for so long and laughed when you caught sight of your toes, eyes travelling to your hands, noticing how wrinkled they had become. You wiggled your fingers in front of you and lifted them to show Alastor, who was still mentally processing what had just occurred. You took advantage of his still figure and chose to re-wash his cock and your face before rinsing and turning off the shower, thoroughly wrinkled from the water.

He opened the shower and stepped out, wrapping you in a terry cloth house robe to block out the chill of the air, donning a similar one himself. Both were a dark red, and felt quite luxe. You pulled it close within yourself, and hummed at the pleasure of being wrapped in such a soft fabric.

The room was thickly filled with steam, the mirror fogged over, skin kissed with the damp air. As the steam escaped out of the room when Alastor opened the door, he quickly walked over to a small bar area and began fashioning a French press of coffee, starting a kettle with water and scooping out the grounds as you took your time to look around the room and absorb the details.

Two chairs were against the fireplace, and you were reminded of the first time you sat in them. Beside the fireplace was a bookshelf stacked with books - you didn’t think that Alastor had time to read but it made sense that he was an avid reader. A large American Alligator skeleton was mounted on the wall - clearly a reminder of his time alive, as Louisiana was heavily populated with it. Scrawled on many surfaces were runes similar to what you had read about and remembered from the little radio.

In fact that radio was present on the bookshelf, and without thought you reached out and traced the edge of it with your finger, having it emit a slight green glow at the action. When you lifted the finger the glow stopped, and suddenly the strong scent of coffee was near your head. Alastor was holding the cup in his hand, his own black coffee already on the sitting table by one of the chairs. You grabbed the cup and thanked him for it, noting that it was a wonderful light caramel colour and smelled sweet - the way you liked your coffee. As he sat in his own chair, crossing his legs and palming his own cup, he watched you settle into the opposite chair. Tucking your feet under yourself in an attempt to stay warm and bundled, despite him snapping his fingers and igniting the fireplace. You held the cup with both hands, sipping and smiling, yet avoiding any type of eye contact with the man. Once you left the haze of the bathroom you had realised the bold nature of your actions and suddenly were unable to face them.

Suddenly outside in the hall, you could hear what sounded like your door slamming open, and rapid footprints stomping around. Both of you could hear the panicked exclamations of Angel Dust and Charlie, who were apparently looking for you. You and Alastor made eye contact, but no move to go to the door to relieve their panic. Angel had yelled something about finding your phone, and Charlie shouted something about the library being empty. Hmm, who knew you were so cared for?

Finally a knock at Alastors door, though it was clearly a hesitant knock, like the person on the other side of the door was frightened Alastor might answer.

He gracefully walked towards the door, and opened it widely, grateful that the chairs were not visible from the threshold from where he was standing. Angeldust answered, inquiring if Alastor had seen you, the two beings stating no one had eyes on you since the early morning the night before. The cause of concern being the increased presence of cannibal town citizens in the hotel required constant check-ins from the usual tenants, something you had obviously missed in the debriefing.

Alastor brushed their concern off and announced that he, in fact, would be the largest concern in the hotel, as all patrons were his responsibility and Rosie ensured no friendly fire from her people. Thankful for his statement, Charlie had decided that surely you were definitely around - the hotel was pretty big after all. Alastor laughed at their panic, and stated with confidence that if anyone was going to eat you this morning, it would be him, as a deer-human hybrid eating another deer-human hybrid would scratch a certain part of his curious appetite. Angel made a sound of disgust, telling Alastor to not even try it as he stomped off, and Charlie to follow the spider demon down the hall while spouting locations you just might be.

As the door clicked, you heard Alastor lock it before settling down on the sofa chair again. Coffee long finished, you chuckled a bit at his displeased face after being interrupted, and he gave you a sharp smile. “You’re very cared for here, my dear.” He said, picking at his nails indifferently. You smiled into your empty cup, responding in a slightly self-deprecating manner, “Well, I wasn’t really overworld, it’s strange that I found this kind of family in hell of all places.” You mused, “It’s weird that I’m almost happier being dead. I don’t really know what I would be doing if I was still trying to survive.”

The last bit was more a statement to yourself, lost in the ‘what could have been’ nature of your life. Alastor hummed in acknowledgment, and the two of you fell back into silence at the fire crackled in the background. You could feel your slightly tangled hair drying and puffing up, though Alastor still looked perfect. The silence had you at unease, wondering if you had pushed a boundary in the shower and started to make apologies.

”Alastor what just happened in…i-in the shower, sorry if I…you-“ He had risen and walked over to place a finger over your lips as you tried to talk. He shook his head and kneeled down in front of you, resting his hands on the armrest as he looked up at you. You frowned at his closeness, confused at his actions as one hand came to toy with the tie closure of the housecoat.

“Never mind that dear, silence is not always a critical disaster.” He stated, eyes half lidded as he looked at you. “I was merely thinking about how I would fulfil my statement to our effeminate friend and concerned princess.” You frowned deeper, looking at him in confusion. What had he said? That you were his responsibility? But so was everyone else, wasn’t that what he said?

‘My dear, your face betrays you,” he announced with mirth, “you’re overthinking again.” He pulled at the tie on your robe, undoing it and starting to fluff it open, exposing your body to him. His hands were suddenly on your ribs, before lifting you to a standing position. He went back to a kneeling position in front of you, face to face with your burning cunt, which you knew was slick with desire already. Alastor took a deep sniff of the air, closing his eyes and enjoying the scent you were emitting.

“I believe I told them that if you were being eaten, I would be responsible.” He stated wickedly, a flash of black sclera visible. You flushed even harder, understanding the connotation now. He had your body exposed, the housecoat open and he rested his forehead on your lower stomach. He was either gaining nerve or control over himself, you were unsure. H

e asked you for permission, and remembering his statement from the night before you gave him verbal permission, though it wasn’t with the same confidence, as you followed up with a “-don’t feel obligated, it’s not something I enj-oooo-oi oh god!” At the first touch of his long, hot tongue to your clit, your knees gave out and your ass hit the floor, Alastor quickly following as he grabbed under your knees and pulled them beside either side of his head as he began to devour you.

Your fall had shoved the chair back, freeing up the space for you to lay flat against the ground, hands coming to your face to contain your shriek of pleasure that erupted from you.

It was clear that all previous attempts of being eaten out were by a selfish, bored partner, because if your previous experience was someone who was stuffed from dinner denying themselves dessert, Alastor was a man starved, craving more. He was desperately entering you with his slender tongue, the thick muscle thrusting within your wet cunt, lapping the proof of your desire.

The sensation was almost immediately too much, a type of pleasure that no one could have possibly described to you. This was something that only experience would enlighten you too. His tongue would dip in and out and swirl against your clit, but when his teeth took the tiny nub in their grip, you screamed a guttural cry of pleasure, sharp and powerful. Alastor hummed, sending the sensation overboard.

He sucked, grazed with his teeth, and tongued your clit with tortuous precision. As slow and steady you had taken him in the shower, nearly punishing him with gentleness, Alastor was the opposite. He was overstimulating you as you desperately raced towards your finish. Your hands fisted in his hair, accidentally pulling on one of his ears, resulting in a loud grunting moan from the demon, who repaid your actions with a devouring hunger for you. His twisting, diving tongue had been joined by a thumb, having released one of your legs to assist you in finding your release.

Your hips were almost vibrating, and very quickly you could feel your body tipping over that edge, and suddenly you felt your orgasm, clenching your insides and filling Alastors mouth with a little gift of desire from your core, which he eagerly consumed, not letting up on his actions. He was enjoying the unravelling you were facing, your breath coming through incoherent statements and praise to god (rude), and though swollen and the contractions of your pussy slowing down, he did not ease up on the attention he was giving you.

You protested slightly, saying it was too much, you couldn’t do it, you already came - but soon after the first one he raced you through a second orgasm in minutes. This one had you release a purely animalistic groan as your body took you through a second, far more intense, orgasm. Alastor was clearly sucking the soul out of you, and you were pretty sure if he asked you would have offered it to him. He held onto your jerking hips, lessening the chance of you smashing into his nose, and he lapped at you while you wound down, breathing deeply to try and contain the state that he put you in.

He nipped at each inner thigh, before suckling at choice spots on your upper legs, stomach and chest, leaving little love bruises as he made his way up to your face. He placed a kiss on your jawline and lifted his head up to your ears, before causing even more embarrassment to you,

”Delicious,” He purred. Your hands covered your red face, and he laughed darkly at your reaction. You peeked at him through your fingers and noted that hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, and his lips and chin were coated in the slick of your orgasm. He was sucking at his thumb, resting on his knees in between your legs, and wiping his chin with the side of his hand, rubbing it on his housecoat.

“What was that about not enjoying that?” He mocked, questioning your last coherent statement. “You know I don’t like it when you lie, chere.” Nnngh, the French. Good god, you were an accent hoe. Your list of kinks kept growing the more you spent with this man. Praise, light bondage, hair pulling, voyeurism (you had been having multiple fantasies about that time in the club), accents - Alastor was constantly teaching you new things about yourself. Like oh boy, did you enjoy oral. Like a bunch. Giving and receiving, it was like Christmas, but better because the only returns you got would be shared pleasure.

As your hands came off your face as you got control over your breathing, he leaned over you -

“Liars deserve punishment, darling, and I am still hungry.” His shadows swarmed the two of you, and when they cleared, they had dropped you in your bed, both housecoat free. Would the day be just sex? You weren’t even aware of how many hours had passed already, or even what hour it was. Alastors face captured your attention so intensely you didn’t have the nerve to glance around your room and look for the time. It was clear that whatever beast you thought you saw in Alastors bayou last night had nothing on the beast he had become sexually. It was like he was making up for lost time, and you were his muse. A willing participant eager to meet your combined inexperience with enthusiasm.

Very quickly he flipped you over, and understanding his intention, you could feel yourself get slick again. Or perhaps it was a side effect of Alastors desire, regardless, your body was ready and eager for whatever was next. Walking on his knees in between your legs, he lifted your hips up slightly, and guided your head down to the mattress, manipulating your arms to circle your head and almost touch the headboard. He put one knee beside one of yours, the dent in the mattress making that known. He had placed himself right at your core, prodding slightly.

You were impressed with how hard he was already. Clearly his actions before this gave him some intense pleasure as well. His tip breached your cunt, thrusting into you and nearly bottoming out on the first motion. You dug your hands into the sheets, and the mattress caught your groan. Alastor was shifting your hips around, trying to find the most effective way to start a rhythm of movement. One of his hands held a leg and the other wrapped around the side of your waist to keep you in position.

You were almost sore from his earlier attention, but it was quickly forgotten as the two of you were in this embrace, and your body seemed ready for another round as it was quite responsive. Soon he found a motion that worked for the both of you, and you were meeting his thrusts eagerly, your own rolling up for impact. He seemed desperate, one hand firmly gripping your hip in place, another on your shoulder as if he was afraid you would try and wiggle away. His thrusts picked up pace, as if he were being timed. This session was not sensual and drawn out as the times before, you couldn't escape the feeling that he needed this moment of dominance to gain some control over himself.

With your current position, you could feel his cock press against your cervix with minor discomfort. You were unsure if it was the numerous orgasms that you had been given already or the pain, but the build to orgasm was taking longer for you. Quite possibly for Alastor as well, due to your particularly intimate connection. You moved an arm and reached down to your clit, hoping to put pressure on it to get you there just a touch quicker.

However, this was not an acceptable action for Alastor, and he quickly removed his hand from your hip and slapped your hand away. The hand holding your shoulder moved closer to your neck and he pulled you towards him. He brought you up from your bent status, and had your back against his chest. He had manoeuvred your positions around so now Alastor was thrusting up, and he filled even more of you than before due to the simple fact of gravity. But this position had him hitting that soft, delicate, over sensitive spot within your cunt. Suddenly every prod at your cervix was paired with a firm pressure against your g-spot, mixing the two sensations in harmonious balance.

Unable to move without considerate disruption of your current activity, you just brought your hands up and almost behind you to put your hands on the back of Alastors neck. He in turn had moved one hand to a breast, pinching the nipple, and the other went to your clit. Firmly and methodically he had his finger circling and pressing against it as he thrust up into you. This was easily your favourite position yet. With every movement of his hips, Alastor filled your ears with haggard breaths. Seemingly from a man overwhelmed with pleasure. Your bodies were hot, light perspiration causing a chill from the open air to hit you and making you shiver in conjunction with the pleasure you were enjoying.

“A—ah, Ah-Ah-las-tooor” you groaned out, getting a choked out gasp from behind you. He went harder, faster - he was relentless. He moved his head within your loose grasp and placed an open mouthed kiss above your clavicle, tongue lapping up the hot slick that covered your body. Suddenly he increased his finger movement on your clit while simultaneously slamming into your cunt, and when you started to release another broken melody of his name, he bit your shoulder rather hard and pinched your nipple hard. The deadly combination had you loudly cry out a sound of pleasure, Alastor expelled a low, shaky groan into your own ears right after an announcement of his own release..

As you came, your hips jerked back slightly, and your body was simply squeezing whatever remaining orgasm it could reach. You let your body take control and you slumped against Alastor, your arms now simply draped behind you loosely resting on the man's shoulders. You were spent, sore, and satisfied. You felt like you had swum a mile with how sore your muscles were. Thankfully he seemed to recognize this, and after the last minor thrust to ensure you were sufficiently filled, lifted you gently off his lap. He laid you down on your side and removed himself from the bed, walking to the bathroom. You could hear the sink run, and very soon after Alastor was back in between your legs, gently cleaning you up with a warm cloth. You could only quietly respond to his actions with a gentle thank you, which was given a very satisfied smile in return.

As he took care of the both of you, your eyelids were heavier with each blink. Finally, in silence, he crept up the bed to lay beside you, a finger aimlessly tracing lines into your side. You were slipping into sleep, though you wanted to just enjoy this quiet aftershock of your very strange day, it was simply too difficult to stay conscious. Pulling a sheet over your bodies, Alastor tucked you into his chest and put his chin at the top of your head, one arm wrapping around your upper shoulders and the other finding comfort at your midsection. Your own hands were folded into your own chest, with your hands coming up to rest under your chin. The two of you folded right into each other without discomfort. Each swell of your body settling into a sharp edge to his while the bends and grooves of his long, lithe body perfectly encompassed you like puzzle pieces.

The warmth emanating off him had you welcoming sleep without hesitation. Each of you settled into a rhythmic breathing pattern, Alastor snapped his fingers to shut the lights off, and you fell into a deep sleep. You weren’t certain, but you thought you heard a soft hum of contentment rumble from the demon who fell into slumber right after you.

_____________

@queermaxwooo @drawings-by-meh @sirens-and-moonflowers @looking1016 @mo-0-o @blakeaha @mutifandomkid @ministarheaven @nightingale0603 @loadedwafflefries @rizzscary @bishiglomper @vividachromatic @fluffy-koalala @mkaella @readergirlstuff @xalygatorx @phisen @rukkshevahna @hazbin-hoetel @white-00-7 @iheartalastor @littlebluefishtail @little-slyvixen @bishiglomper @catticora @alastorssimp @midorichoco @garfieldthomas @spottypug @witchykitten @cryssyd @katzenwahnsinn @zzzykiek @hippurislonghorn

6+k of smut. A gift due to my delay in uploading.

[doumas-whore]

MIDNIGHT SKYLINE

IT’S FINALLY HERE AFTER MONTHS IN MY DRAFTS 🙏 thank you all for being soooo patient with me

Samuel Seo/Seo Seonggun x reader

Angst. GN. Reader is insecure, Samuel is insecure, EVERYONE HATES THEMSELVES 😭🙏

🍊🌻🧡⭐️

You stood there, alone in your shared bedroom. Samuel hadn’t come home the night before, so you had no choice but to prepare for the Gala alone. Dressed to the nines in the expensive outfit that your boyfriend bought for you, you started at your reflection dismally.

You traced the contours of your face, the designer bracelet on your wrist glistens in the rising sun. You stare for a second, brows furrowed as a frown begins to form on your lips.

‘Why me?’ you thought to yourself. ‘I don’t deserve things like this.’

You struggle for a moment before managing to unclasp the bracelet and placing it back in your jewelry box. You dug around for something less extravagant, opting for a simple silver-plated chain, which matched your necklace. You knew that Samuel didn’t like when you wore it, he thought it was too simple, unrefined.

After putting it on, you paused. Oddly enough, you felt guilty. Maybe it’s because you weren’t wearing his gift. Maybe it’s because you knew that you weren’t good enough for a man like him. You saw how his eyes wandered, always on someone prettier, skinnier, or smarter. He never said anything, and yet you had always felt inferior.

You shake your head to snap yourself out of these thoughts, but that looming feeling of imperfection would stay with you for the rest of your night.

The phone rang and your eyes lit up, hoping it was Samuel. Your smile dropped instantly when you realized it was just his chauffeur.

“Hello, Y/N speaking,” You said politely, already knowing that he was just calling to pick you up.

“Hello L/N, I’m outside now,” He said curtly. “We’ll be stopping to pick up Mr. Seo on the way, so please try to hurry.”

“Alright,” You said before hanging up.

You’ve been ready for a while, so it wasn’t like you had to hold up the operation. You slip out of the penthouse, making sure you had everything before locking the doors. Once the elevator was on the first floor, you greeted the staff in the lobby with a smile before making your way to the car.

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

The rest of the ride was silent. You fidgeted with your necklaces, even after the vehicle had come to a stop outside of a nondescript skyscraper. Within minutes, Samuel had taken his spot beside you. You wanted to speak, but you didn’t have it in you. Minutes passed before he broke the silence

“You’re not wearing the bracelet I got for you,” He said softly, holding your wrist at eye level.

“It was too much,” You responded meekly.

“How so?” He asked, quirking a brow skeptically.

“Samuel, that bracelet costs twice my mother’s rent, of course I can’t wear it,” you said, breaking eye contact for good.

He didn’t say anything, he just stared.

You wanted to apologize, but you couldn’t find the words,so instead you just sat there, occasionally stealing glances, just to see him on his phone.

The car halted again, signaling that you had reached your destination. You watched as Samuel tweaked his appearance slightly

“Sammy, baby,” The words leave your mouth before you can even register that you’re speaking. “Do you still love me?”

He faltered for a split second, eyes meeting yours with a sigh.

“Something like that, Y/N,” He said.

You felt a sting of disappointment, but even so, you weren’t exactly surprised. You climb out of the car, entering the party before him.

Like he would’ve expected, he found you at the bar, colorful cocktail in hand as you were chatting with other attendees. Just like he was afraid of. After all, you could easily have anyone, and you expect him to believe you picked him? The way he saw it, his cold words were just self defense from the inevitable hurt that would come with the end.

You, on the other hand, were not usually this talkative with strangers. You were never much of a partygoer to begin with, but alcohol works in mysterious ways. You were already tipsy off half of a cocktail, which is admittedly a lot more than you would regularly drink.

The reality of the situation is just that you wanted a distraction. That pit in your stomach that was slowly forming over time suddenly felt a lot more real. You couldn’t really dismiss it as overthinking after what he said.

You shake your head, a physical attempt to rid yourself of those thoughts, before you slam the other half of your cocktail. You glance over at Samuel, who’s staring at you from across the rooftop. You leave a tip for the bar tender before disappearing deeper into the crowd.

———

HIIII I hope this wasn’t the worst thing ever 🤙 i wanted to get it out today so it’s a little rushed and open ended. if it performs well i’ll definitely write a part 2 :D

[jjasen]

this is how to disappear

summary: keeping jj from slipping away from you, inspired by how to disappear by lana del rey

warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol, angst

word count: 1.5k

john met me down on the boulevard

“Hey.”

“Hey.” You glance over your shoulder at John B.

He shoves his hands into the pockets of his cargo shorts. “So,” he greets you noncommittally, “can I sit here?” You nod and bite your lip, turning back to watch the waves crash onto the shore, the remnants of the sunset casting a soft orange glow onto the water.

cried on his shoulder ‘cause life is hard

He sits down beside you. A few moments pass in quiet contemplation. “He doesn’t mean to hurt you, you know,” he says, squinting at the horizon. 

“I know.” You run your hands down your thighs. It’s starting to get chilly as the last beams of sunlight dip below the skyline. “It still does, though. Hurt, I mean.” 

He looks at you, his cinnamon-brown eyes sorrowful, then sighs, ducking his head. “Yeah. I know.” He pauses, gathering his words. “He just- he’s so scared that you’ll leave him. I think it gives him a sense of control if he’s the one to withdraw first.”

You smile mournfully, thinking back to your argument. 

You were - all of you, even Sarah - hanging out in John B’s yard, lounging around in camp chairs and hammocks under the shade of the oak trees, hoping to escape the oppressive summer heat. The Chateau’s air conditioning system was broken, and there was nothing to drink except for tap water and few lukewarm beers, which hadn’t deterred JJ from snagging a can and popping it open in his hammock. Pope had dug out a box of sticky cherry ice pops from the freezer for the rest of you. 

“So, JJ,” Kie had leaned forward, elbows on her knees as she cupped her chin with her palms, “Are you, like, gonna return the hot tub? It’s been less than a month, so theoretically you could get the restitution money back.”

the waves came in over my head

“What?” Your outburst was half-laughter, half incredulous. You turned to look at him, sitting up in your hammock, a dull ache beginning to throb in your chest. “You didn’t tell me you used all of the restitution money to buy the hot tub.” 

what you been up to, my baby?

A quick glance at all the others confirmed that they had all been aware of your boyfriend’s expenditure. Pope looked down at his lap, his melting popsicle slowly dripping onto the grass, John B muttered a low, “Shit, man,” and Sarah stared at you worriedly, biting on her lower lip. 

all of the guys tell me lies but you don’t 

JJ clenched his jaw, the muscles in the column of his neck ticking, and refused to meet your gaze. “It’s nothing, dude,” he mumbled, getting up to crush his empty beer can with his boot and walking inside the Chateau. An uncomfortable silence settled over the group and you could feel the pogues watching you carefully, sending a prickle down your spine. 

you just crack another beer

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have- It’s my fault for mentioning it,” Kie said, fidgeting with her bracelets. 

“It’s fine,” you sighed, brushing your hair behind your ear. “I should- I should probably go talk to him.” The sweet taste of cherry ice on your tongue had quickly turned sour, and you tossed your wooden popsicle stick, stained a bright red, somewhere into the yard before following JJ into the house. You found him in the kitchen, braced over the sink, and you could tell he saw you in his periphery by the way his knuckles whitened, biceps flexing in his threadbare black muscle tank, the way he pressed his lips together. 

 and pretend that you’re still here

“Were you going to tell me?” You crossed your arms casually, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Because this feels like something a person would generally tell their partner about. Maybe before they tell literally everybody else.”

 “Just- just fucking stop, okay? Just stop,” he bit out, holding a hand out towards you, his voice ragged. He turned to face you, running his hand through his blond hair, and stared at you for a moment. His chest heaved and he shook his head. “This is- I don’t wanna fucking talk about this shit. Not with you,” he said stiffly, before stalking out of the house. You made to follow him, briefly, but as if he knew what you were doing, he held up his hand from the yard, signaling you to stop.

“Don’t!” he called, not bothering to look back at you.

this is how to disappear

You watched him helplessly from John B’s sun-bleached porch, JJ’s figure shrinking into the distance. Dust flew up in the scorching summer heat, clouding his retreating silhouette. You pretended that the pogues weren’t watching you with their pity-filled eyes, and they pretended that they hadn’t witnessed your fight. You appreciated it, awkward as it may be; it was easier this way. And you knew that for JJ, it was easier to just up and leave. 

this is how to disappear

“I should talk to him.” It’s not a question, but you still look over at John B. He’s gazing into the horizon, watching the sea swirl inky indigo blue as the sky darkens, fiddling unconsciously with that tattered old bandana he wears around his neck. 

“Yeah. Yeah, you should,” he says. He’s still sitting there when you get up from the pier.

I know he’s in over his head

You know JJ well enough by now that you know where he goes when he’s in his moods, or needs to think. And sure enough, you find him at Rixon’s cove, sitting in a low-hanging branch of the oak tree that overlooks the ocean. You’re certain that he clocks your presence in the subtle ways his body shifts - an almost imperceptible head tilt towards you, his hand threading through his messy blond hair, a quiet intake of breath. 

“I care, JJ. I care so much it hurts sometimes.” You skip past any semblance of greeting him and resume the conversation you’d had, hours earlier. You liked that about JJ, and he liked that about you: that the two of you could switch and weave through different discussions seamlessly, without a blink of an eye. 

 but I love that man like nobody can

“I know.” JJ turns to face you and it’s now that you register his reddened eyes, a smear of dirt and a few scrapes on his cheekbone. You move closer to clamber up onto the branch he’s sitting on, the tree’s bark rough under your palms. He looks down at his trembling hands. “It’s just- I do these stupid, shitty things all the time. And I don’t know how to stop, and I just want to do the right thing, and I- I fucking can’t.” He’s getting himself worked up again, frustration seeping into his voice, his jaw tensing.

he moves mountains and pounds them to ground again

“The gun, the hot tub - JJ, look at me,” you say softly. JJ gives people only enough of him to form a relationship; never enough so they could hurt him. For why would he trust anybody to love him when he has been taught that all people know how to do is hurt him? “I don’t care about that. It’s stupid. Of course it’s stupid. But there’s nothing you could do to make me stop loving you,” you say gently, reaching out to take his hand, to brush your thumb over his calloused palms. His fingers shake with how desperately he wants to be loved. The weight of his hand in yours is warm and familiar and comfortingly heavy.

I watched the guys getting high as they fight for the things that they hold dear 

JJ closes his eyes. “Do you promise?” It’s no more than a whisper, a murmur through the cool night air. The last dregs of sun tint his face with a golden glow, his blue eyes now a clear silver in the evening light. His gaze is wide, searching, as if he will find the key to the universe scattered across your cheekbones. 

to forget the things they fear

“I promise.” There is nothing you have ever been more sure of, and the fact that JJ sits back, relieved, as though he hadn’t been sure, makes something akin to sadness bubble up in your chest. 

this is how to disappear

“Come here.” You wrap your arms around him, careful not to fall out of the tree. JJ buries his face into the nape of your neck; his hair smells like the earth, like weed and cedarwood. Like home. He holds you tight, as if at any moment you could slip away from his grasp, his hands warm and pressed against your back, your waist. 

I watch the skies getting light as I write, as I think about those years

You lean down slightly so that your lips brush the shell of his ear. 

as I whisper in your ear 

“I'm always going to be right here. No one's going anywhere.”

[goodpointsandbadpoints]

hi, hello, hi!!!

how about 07? with Leon? hes definitely more of an actions over words person, I think.

prompt 7: a kiss to say what you can't say aloud.

Hi!! thank you!! this one was so interesting to do! I put Chris and Leon on a train together. Also I 100% agree that Leon would do rather than say in many situations.

tags: arguing; making up; fluff; married stuff.

-

He doesn’t know why they fought this time. He stares out the window beside him, watching trees and power lines whip by as they pass by another suburb. The car hums vaguely, rumbling every so often from slight variations in the tracks, but it doesn’t bother him. Everyone becomes numb to it after a while. 

Frustration still chews at the back of his mind. 

Sighing, he leans into Chris and looks down at his hands. His shoulder still hurts, honestly, and he should be grateful that he’s not getting an I told you so from the man next to him. That would just make him frustrated all over again. 

When he glances across the aisle, the woman seated there is on her phone. She isn’t eavesdropping anymore, thankfully, but he can’t help but feel the residual judgment in her slightly raised eyebrows and the way her gaze flicks over to him when she catches him staring. Dammit. 

It’s his fault. If he lines up the moments in a row, steps back, and looks, it was him every step of the way. 

Number one, he forgot to stretch in the first place. He had woken up with the joint feeling twisted up, turned again and again like a doll’s mangled limb, but he hadn’t set himself an alarm for it today. It had been a dull throb all day—packing and leaving the hotel, then down the street and onto the train. 

Number two, he let Chris take the aisle seat. Poor foresight on his part, putting one of the most stubborn people on the planet between him and his painkillers. Chris had picked his seat, planted his feet apart, and crossed his arms the way he does when he’s going to rest his eyes. His sunglasses were tucked in the collar of his shirt, pulling it in a little V that would normally be charming, and it was until Leon had asked him to grab his painkillers. 

Number three, he admitted it. Chris had given him a look and a deadpan “Did you stretch?” that he already knew the answer to. Leon had been adjusting his neck and wincing all day. And then he answered, “No,” like an amateur.  

Number four, he fought him on it. He watched Chris stay firm in his seat, not even uncrossing his arms, and he felt the sinking sense of dread that his bag had become a hostage. “You should stretch,” Chris said. Reasonable enough, maybe. Instead, Leon dug in his heels. He was appalled—betrayed, even—that Chris was setting up this roadblock. 

He let himself get wound up, as if Chris wouldn’t sigh and tip his head at him, shoulders squared, and meet him with the same frustration. All of his points were true, but…

Number five— fuck that. Fuck this whole thing. He’d said things he didn’t mean. He used the wrong voice. He’s sorry. 

Chris is staring across the aisle to the windows there, to the landscape that’s almost identical to Leon’s but with a faint skyline in the background. They’ll make it into the city soon. Leon would comment on it if he didn’t know the man was a little sore. 

They will arrive and take their things, then they’ll head home. He sees the afternoon spread out ahead of him. The sun tilting lower in the sky, painting everything yellow into orange in that tired way, the end of it all. As of right now, he’d be heading into that ending a little pissed. 

Sighing, he shuts his eyes and sits up straight. He loses the warmth of Chris’ shoulder on him, but this will only take a few minutes. 

It always takes only a few minutes. He doesn’t know why it’s so hard to get himself to do it. 

He breathes out until his lungs are empty, then he fills it fresh. He rolls his shoulders back in slow circles. They pop and groan, flaring warm as his muscles tighten and relax, tighten and relax. He goes to ten before he changes directions. 

The routine is a whole set through his neck and upper back—very thorough, to his equal admiration and dismay—and he tips his neck and pulls his arms in all the right ways. Counts to ten every time. He shuts out the sunlight flickered and dappled through the trees, the woman across the way who might be staring at him, and Chris. 

In the end, he feels better. He could have invited this relief in ten minutes ago. 

Feeling something a little sour, a little conflicted, he leans back into Chris. When he opens his eyes, his bag is there in Chris’ lap. 

“Bastard,” he whispers. 

Chris snorts. 

While he pops his ibuprofen, Chris drops his arms. His hand falls to Leon’s leg, something he watches out of the corner of his eye as he drinks down his capsules. 

"Better?"

"Mm."

“I’ll just give them to you next time,” Chris says quietly. “I don’t know what I was trying to do.” 

Leon turns to say that it’s water under the bridge, but he stops. Chris is staring at him. He looks tired, the bags under his eyes well and truly worn in from their weekend out. They’re both a bit bled out from it, exhausted by hours of walking and finding new things to do, and he can see it written over every slope and weary crease on Chris. 

He meets the unspoken apology with his own. He bumps their shoulders together, leaning in, and Chris doesn’t pull away as he kisses him. There’s a soft exhale on his cheek. The hand on his leg squeezes and soothes a line up towards his hip. 

Chris has something warmer in his gaze when they part. Apology accepted, in the end. And suddenly, all of the stupid steps and obstacles fall apart in his hands, and he’s just left with an afternoon sleepiness. He feels himself grin a little. He crosses his ankle over his knee. 

When he raises his eyebrows at Chris, his husband looks ready for whatever he’s going to say.

“Try not to fall asleep before we get there.”

Chris rolls his eyes.

(read on ao3)

[madwomansapologist]

🎶let spotify predict your 2024!🎶

shuffle your on repeat playlist and the first twelve songs represent your 2024

thanks for tagging me @desert-fern! 💙

January: Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want by The Smiths

Haven't had a dream in a long time See, the life I've had Can make a good man bad

February: My Love Mine All Mine by Mitski

'Cause my love is mine, all mine I love mine, mine, mine Nothing in the world belongs to me But my love mine, all mine Nothing in the world is mine for free But my love mine, all mine, all mine

March: Good Looking by Suki Waterhouse

The skyline falls as I try to make sense of it all I thought I'd uncovered your secrets, but turns out there's more You adored me before Oh, my good looking boy

April: the last great american dynasty by Taylor Swift

They say she was seen on occasion Pacing the rocks, staring out at the midnight sea And in a feud with her neighbor She stole his dog and dyed it key lime green 50 years is a long time Holiday House sat quietly on that beach Free of women with madness, their men and bad habits And then it was bought by me

May: One Of The Girls by The Weeknd

Lock me up and throw away the key He knows how to get the best out of me I'm no fools for the world to see Trade my whole life just to be

June: Johanna by Suki Waterhouse

Who am I? Who am I? Couldn't tell ya, couldn't tell ya Who am I? Who am I? Couldn't tell ya, couldn't tell ya I was feeling love, being used Now I'm so confused, so confused Electric lights, lucky strikes We danced all night and then I looked in your eyes And said Johanna, Johanna Only want ya 'cause I can't have ya

July: Hypnotic by Zella Day

You do it to me so well Hypnotic taking over me Make me feel like someone else You got me talking in my sleep I don't wanna come back down I don't wanna touch the ground Pacific Ocean, dug so deep Hypnotic taking over me Hypnotic taking over me

August: Is It Over Now? by Taylor Swift

And did you think I didn't see you? There were flashing lights At least I had the decency To keep my nights out of sight Only rumors 'bout my hips and thighs And my whispered sighs Oh, Lord, I think about Jumping off of very tall somethings Just to see you come running And say the one thing I've been wanting But no

September: Ainda Gosto Dela by Skank

Eu ainda gosto dela Mas ela já não gosta tanto assim A porta ainda está aberta Mas da janela já não entra luz E eu ainda penso nela

October: Liquid Smooth by Mitsk

I'm liquid smooth, come touch me, too And feel my skin is plump and full of life I'm in my prime I'm liquid smooth, come touch me, too I'm at my highest peak, I'm ripe About to fall, capture me

November: Bloodletting by Concrete Blonde

They used to dance in the garden In the middle of the night Dancin' out in the garden In the middle of the night Oh, you were a vampire and I may never see the light Oh, you were a vampire and I may never see the light

December: IN MY MOUTH by Black Dresses

I don't feel like I can be anything more than this (I've gotta...) I don't really want to be anything more than this (I've gotta...) I just wanna be whatever you want me to be (I've gotta...) I don't wanna have a soul (I've gotta...)

alright my year will be sad and horny.

Tagging: @shirebarbie @wordbunch @sotwk @harknessshi @madame-fear @arraxesfire @morpheusbaby3

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

The Beginning of the World

He dangled his feet off the ledge, peering curiously into the emptiness. The grass grew in thick, wild clumps around him, and his fingers toyed idly with the strands. A crown of flowers intertwined themselves with his hair, vibrant blossoms resting on the soft curls.

His eyes were twin suns, glowing with the blinding light of the stars. His laughter was the wind, merry and fickle. His heart beat in time with the waves. He swelled with power, growing with every beat.

Restlessness overtook him, racing on careless feet. Follow me, it seemed to say. 

With a light-hearted bounce, he flipped himself off the ledge, back onto safety. His landing was immaculate, as always. The wind beckoned to him too, begging him to join in the fun, and he obliged.

Life was a thrum of music, a melody of animals and a harmony of plants, the deep bass of rocks and raspy whispers of the earth far below. Fire sang in her soprano, belting out the tempestuous ballad of life and death. Wind hummed cheerfully, irreverent and uncaring of the passions and despairs of mere mortals. Water swirled and splashed in rhythm to the cycles of mortality.

And he, ruler of them all, danced to the tune. It was polka, then jazz, then deep, heavy metal. It roared in his ears, dipping and rising like his breath. There were no words, only raw passion.

He twirled, leaped from treetop to treetop, then fell to the ground with the grace of a feather. Flowers blossomed where he stepped, a vivid explosion of blossoms and beauty. Birds gathered in a circle about him, a halo of sparrows and hawks and albatrosses. 

The animals gathered below to watch his frolicking. There were deer with massive, branching antlers, and does with liquid, eloquent dark eyes. Rodents, mice and squirrels and rabbits, stared up at him, noses twitching with fascination. The wolves and lynxes stood side by side, enraptured by him. Time stopped in its passage to admire his mania.

This was the birth of a god, he thought. But a god was ruler of only one thing. He had become something else, something more. And he relished it, throwing his arms in the air to welcome it.

He was in the air, the fluid currents that glided effortlessly. He was in the waters, the crashing of waves into shore. He was in the fire and the earth. He was in everything, and everything was him. 

Gone was the forest, gone was the precipice. He thought too small, he decided. It was time to see the full picture. And with the blithe laughter of the innocent he knew all.

Beneath the swirling waters and the murmuring winds lay death, drowning and suffocation, pain and suffering. The gaiety of the fire gave way to the agonised cries of burning alive.

The flowers crumbled to dirt in his hands, the deer and does becoming rotting carcasses. Dessicated bones lay scattered, slowly returning to the earth.

And the screams. Delicious, anguished pleas of the helpless, the grieving and the dying alike. The pain of the lemming in the jaws of the fox, the roar of the bear as an arrow dug into its flesh. The blood and the beatings and the bestings all rolled over him.

Death and Life. Pain and Joy. Bliss and Agony. Light and Darkness, Good and Evil. Everything and Nothing. It swirled in a pot of colours, a whirl and twirl of time and space. 

He was Life. He was Death. He was Good and Evil, Order and Chaos. He was everything at once, and yet nothing.

He laughed at the folly of mortality. He laughed at their deaths, with the heedless bliss of the immortal. He laughed at their pain, their passions and their despairs, so inconsequential. His voice tinkled across the world, higher than the songs of the angels, lower than the beating of the world's heart.

And yet- He was a person! He belonged down on the ground, with two eyes instead of a million ones. He belonged with veins of blood, not of magic.

Magic, too, he was the god of. Magic which darted along the skyline, jigged on the edge of volcanoes. Magic who slept with the bear in the winter and cavorted with the fish. Magic that lay in everything, a stream of power that followed no rules, obeyed no orders, save his. He was the master of magic, mercurial, mischievous magic.

Don't, his soul begged.  Don't do it. You're a person. Remember? You had loved.

He had been mortal once, he remembered in a dim part of his mind that still clung to those meaningless moments. He had been foolish and young.

And he had loved, indeed.

Love and Hatred. That he was too. He felt it in his bones, the snarl of rage and loathing, the rumble of protection and adoration. It flowed like an undercurrent of magma, molten iron in his veins. Love and hate moved the world, shaped it and moulded it. Fickle things, they were, but he was a fickle being. It suited him just fine.

The little bit of him cried and begged, screamed in haunting melancholia that would have broken any person's heart. No! No! Turn back! Go back to your old self! You're a person, not an infinity!

But he was no mere person, not anymore. Despair was a part of him, beautiful in its gut-wrenching agony. 

no. please. It wasn't even a whisper, easily drowned out by the breath of the living. don't forget. Was it even his? It was so desperate, so pitiful, and he so mirthful, that it seemed unthinkable.

With a jolt, he remembered someone, someone who could have said those words. It was hard to think of a single individual, so complex was he. A face, perhaps, quickly whisked away by the annals of time. A person, someone he had loved and who had loved him in return. Naught but a memory.

don't let it end like this, the memory begged. please.

But what did he care for endings and beginnings? He was all, and nothing at once.

no- The voice was gone, forgotten by a flighty God. He tossed it out onto the wind, let the gusts toy with it and laughed along merrily.

His laughter was the harsh wind across the moors, the death rattles of soldiers in a war, the fires crackling as the world burned. It was mocking, uncaring, cruel. Yet it was the chirping of birds in the summer, the giggles of playful children, the autumn leaves crunching beneath running feet. It was bliss, endless and infinite joy. All the emotion in the world was packed into the ringing noise.

The world, he ruminated, was too small for him. He watched life wink out and flare back up, and decided to see more. See further. There were worlds beyond this, stars beyond his sun. He would see it all, he decided.

His gaze turned to the tiny precipice overlooking an endless chasm. It was impossible to focus on it, so microscopic it was. But it was the start of his world, and so it was where he would depart too. 

How long had it been? One year? A hundred? A million? The trees had dwindled to gnarled husks, ancient grandmother's curling in on themselves. Capriciously, he laughed at their fragile shells. 

He was in the swirling clouds and fluttering leaves, in the sky and the grass, and then in the chasm of the unknown. But he was not in the Void.

He was the Void.

[oristian]

Another little WIP—I promise I’ll eventually finish one of these, someday. A little Solstice scene with Elain and Lucien.

THIS IS UNEDITED

[…]

Feyre thrust her glass above head, amber depended whiskey flinging about as the rim tilted. Despite it all, the inked expanse of her forearm dripping in liquor, she flashed a rakish grin at the partygoers crowding around her. “He had told me the damndest thing,” her teeth dug into her lower lip, spit-soaked and swollen, and an amused scrunch of her freckle-coated nose punctuated the glint of mischief in her brilliant grayish-blue eyes.

“He had said—Ah, Lucien, perfect timing, as usual! Come,” Feyre eagerly patted the cushion beside her, “come sit, pour yourself a glass!” The settee was an L-shaped four-seater, opulently chiseled stained wood framing, with upholstery stretched taut across the backer in varying arrangements of blues, blacks, and purples—burnished gold detailing accentuated the intricate stitching. Feyre Archeron reclined back against the elegant embroidery of the Velaris skyline, a gown of indigo velvet embracing each curve of her supple form, a long slit trailing up the length of her milky thigh.

Elain burrowed further into the bracketed enclosure of the chaise, tucking in her chin, yet peering up through her dark lashes as Lucien stepped into the lounge.

His skin was sunwashed, a tinge of pink accenting the highest points of his cheekbones; a dusting of freckles kissed against the exposed portion of his golden brown chest. Preened to the nines, Lucien presented himself with a roguish sort of sophistication, immaculately dressed for this evening’s event. His off-white tunic was of muslin fabric, tucked into deep emerald trousers, billowed softly at the clinch of his waist. The stitching of his clothing was held together by threads of gold, intricate patterns cresting against the folds and shadows of his outfit, detailing scenes from his home court.

Lucien threaded his long fingers through his hair, craning his neck backwards to unbound the loose strands out from under the collar of his shirt, a soft sigh of content breaching his lips. “Feyre, only a drink?” Rolling his shoulders back, Lucien tugged his full mouth into a debonair smirk, a single dimple deepening on his cheek. “I was promised a good time tonight.”

A shiver snaked up her spine, goosebumps licking at her flesh, as the words left his mouth. “ … good time tonight, with you …” A dream of sorts, a time not yet present, two individuals absolutely mad for one another. Hands against her skin, warm breath and teeth trailing along her throat, a body firm atop her own, her legs—

Elain stifled a cough, color blooming high on her face, neck and chest, her brows furrowed low as she met Lucien’s steady gaze; his mechanical eye always seemingly seeing straight through her—her very core exposed under his scrutiny. She was hopeful, in that moment, that he could not also hear the erratic beating of her heart the in same way she listens to his. That he could not smell the aroused shift in her scent.

Elain tossed back a shot of whiskey, the burn grounding her in place as she promptly avoided his stare.

/

A little snippet for closer to the end of the fic that I wrote in advance. Lucien Vanserra, the poet that he is.

“String and moon be damned. I would traverse the deepest seas and scale the highest peaks just to please you. From the farthest reaches of the universe to the smallest blades of grass, I would take my time in gathering it all; you wouldn’t need to ask. The sun, the stars, the planets—they are all yours for the taking. Elain, I would collect every wonder of this world and more, just to offer them to you, if you’d only allow me to do such.”

[minhyeong]

&. 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 (𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞)

genre: angst, unrequited love au | word count: 1,188

↳ Jaemin thought you were a lot like a red balloon that he accidentally released into the blue sky, hastily slipping right out of his grasp and floating far away. 

He used to do this peculiar, little thing where he would allow himself to briefly, for just a few short moments, fall in love with another stranger who stepped into his line of vision on the streets, train stations, and even at the corner store that he frequented. 

Jaemin was good at falling in love with strangers to fill the momentary bouts of loneliness, but he was also good at falling out of it. No face in the sea of people lingered too long in his mind. 

So he didn’t understand why he allowed you, of all strangers, to stay. Perhaps you had shown up when a particular bout of loneliness stretched on for a little too long. 

Jaemin couldn’t quite remember the first time he laid his eyes on you or pinpoint the exact moment you dug a deep well into his heart until you became someone irreplaceable. However, he could vividly recall the way he felt like he was drowning at the bottom of the well when you told him you started seeing someone. 

The skyline was so bright, and the breeze smelled like lemons and cotton candy. Sidewalks were littered with doodles drawn with broken chalk. The chocolate ice cream he had before he left the house left a sickly sweet aftertaste on the tip of his tongue. There was a spring in his steps as he approached you, the grin reaching his eyes that squinted under the relentless sunrays. It was the first day of summer, and his life was going to change; he could feel it. 

His confession was knocked right out of his mouth. Jaemin had to fight to keep the smile on his face while you raved about someone else. The revelations felt awfully like violent stabs of rejection for the words that he never had the chance to deliver. 

Jaemin thought you were a lot like a red balloon that he accidentally released into the blue sky, hastily slipping right out of his grasp and floating far away. 

He didn’t think it was possible for him to hate the first day of summer this much. 

Jaemin disappeared off the face of the earth for four days before he reappeared. He spent his time alone sitting on park benches and empty tables at cafes where a bitter scent hung heavy in the humid air and thoughts of missed opportunities clouded his mind. 

After eleven missed calls and blocks of blue text messages, he finally responded to your twelfth call. 

“Where have you been?” Your voice pierced through his phone as you demanded answers. Then, you faltered, huffing as you paced around your room to calm down. “Are you going through something? You know you can tell me anything.” 

A wistful silence settled in between the call. Jaemin fiddled with the hem of his white shirt. “Sorry for ghosting you,” he mumbled with a brief chuckle. “Want to... hang out?” Even without seeing him, you could sense his hesitation and mild uneasiness.

Jaemin showed up in front of your house in thirty minutes with half melted ice cream and beverages in a reused takeout bag. He barged his way into your living room before you could even fully open the door for him, and you nearly got knocked over by the force of his sudden enthusiasm. 

“I brought your favorite! I was thinking we could watch a movie! Or maybe even two movies if you don’t fall asleep by then, so we have to start now!” He shoved everything on your coffee table aside and unloaded everything inside the bag. When he noticed your stillness, he paused, returned your stare, and cocked his head to the side. “What?”

He confused you like a challenging puzzle, and sometimes you wondered if you really knew him. You shook your head, simply glad to have your quirky friend back, and settled into the couch beside him. He handed you a spoon and shoved the tub of ice cream into your hands, wrinkles forming at the corners of his eyes as he took the lid off for you. “Little Mermaid?” 

Jaemin sang along, forcing out every high note he could rip out of his strained vocal cords, and he appeared so happy whenever you stole quick glances at him that you forgot all about the way he behaved strangely for the past few days. 

You didn’t even notice an incoming call until he faintly heard your phone vibrating next to the half emptied bottles on the table and nudged you with his knee to bring your attention to it. 

He wished he hadn’t when you flipped your phone over and he saw the contact. He didn’t miss the way your entire face lit up when you answered the call, and he certainly didn’t mean to overhear your conversation even though you had stepped away. 

But there was a warmth in your voice that he was unfamiliar with, the kind that made his heart lurch, the kind that filled his lungs with waves of despair. He clutched his spoon a little harder until the plastic folded under the pressure. 

By the time you returned, Jaemin had already cleaned up your table of trash and wiped down the stains on the glass. He stood by your door with his sneakers on, looking a little lost. 

You glanced at the television screen that was still paused at the spot you left off at. “Where are you going? The movie isn’t over yet.” 

“It’s late,” he said sheepishly. “I should go.” 

You blinked at him, confused by the switch in his behaviors once again. “You can stay over. It’s not like you never slept over before.” The chuckle you let out quickly dissipated when he maintained a stoic expression with glassy eyes that were bordering on sadness. You uneasily shifted your weight from one foot to the other. 

His eyes flitted toward you when you called out to him with a soft murmur. 

You were looking right at him, eyes unwavering as you inched toward him, but he didn’t feel seen. 

Jaemin couldn’t help but think he felt a little less lonely before he met you. 

“No,” he asserted, a broad grin returning to his face. “It’s fine.”

It wasn’t enough to convince you. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, I’ll see you around,” he interrupted before slipping out the door. You rushed forward to hold it open before it could slam shut, jamming your foot in the door frame as you stepped out. 

Jaemin was already halfway down the block before he pivoted on his heels. The faint street lamp tinted his features a gentle orange. He smiled at you, so you smiled back despite the inexplicable dread that sat heavy on your chest. 

“Have a good summer.” He waved, the smile never leaving his face, before he pivoted again, sprinting down the street and vanishing into the summer night.

He felt like a stranger. 

No, Jaemin could never be a stranger, yet an odd feeling took over, as if you were never going to see him again, and if you did, he wouldn’t be the same Jaemin you once knew.

[gracethyomen]

"World on Fire"

a/n: we're getting close to some angst now so everybody look tf out. This bit takes place in the minutes after all the Russian warehouse holdings explode and the aftermath of the attack. While Matt tries to get information out of Vladmir and avoid the cops, Natalie desperately tries to get in contact with him and the gang as well as her niece and sister-in-law.

warnings: Mention of terrorism, mention of death, funeral, loss of a parent, loss of a sibling. Mention of difficult home life. Mention of bombs, explosions, violence.

The smell of roses could only halfway cover the lingering stench of smoke that covered New York City, creating an uncomfortable mixture of scents that really just reminded Natalie more of death. 

The sound of sniffling reached her previously numb ears as she stood in front of the dug grave. The dark stained wood of the casket glared back up at her like a taunt, reminding her of what was inside. The white rose tucked between her cold fingers felt more like a brick now. With slow, shuffling steps she approached the open grave, fingers shaking as she gently dropped the bloom onto the dark coffin. Where her half brother now rested. 

She stiffened just a little when Eleanor stepped up beside her, looking at her own rose thoughtfully. 

“Kate wants to learn archery.” She murmured softly, not looking up from her hands. “She says she needs to protect us.” 

Natalie sniffed sharply, burying her hands in her coat. “What did you tell her?” 

“That it’s my job to protect us.” Eleanor said coldly, finally looking up at Natalie. Gaze unreadable. “That donor that took on your loans…” She swallowed hard. “Derek never knew how to fix your relationship. You’re ten years younger, different mother… I think he always resented your mom a little after his parents divorced.” Eleanor tossed her rose harshly into the grave. “For him, fixing things meant paying for your dreams.” 

Natalie looked at Eleanor, brows furrowed in question. “Eleanor, what are you saying?” 

“Because he paid for you dreams, I don’t know if Kate will get to live hers.” She hissed, tears brewing in the corners of her eyes. “We’re in debt, Natalie. I’m going to do everything to pull us out of it but it was Derek who put us here. Because he loved you.” 

Natalie felt tears start to roll down her face, her bottom lip wobbling dangerously. “Eleanor, please, I’m-“  

“Don’t apologize.” Eleanor stopped her, turning away from her again to look at Kate sitting with some adjacent uncle. “Don’t say anything.” She sighed heavily. “I’m not going to keep you from seeing Kate entirely, Derek wouldn’t want that. But things have to change.” Eleanor shook her head thoughtfully. “We need some space. To heal, and to get back on our feet.” 

“Eleanor, please, I can help fix this. I’m interning at a good firm, they’ve talked about a job offer. I can help.” Natalie started as Eleanor began to walk away. 

Eleanor turned sharply, staring Nat down with a gaze that looked so hollow Natalie stopped in her tracks and simply stared, tears still falling. 

“Every time I look at you…” She spoke lowly. “All I see are Derek’s mistakes. The mistakes that put me and my daughter where we are today.” Natalie sobbed quietly, “I can’t look at that more often than I have to.” Eleanor hardened her tone, turning back away from Natalie. “I have to look at my daughter first.” 

Nat was jolted from her uneasy sleep by the sound of distant and muffled explosions, at first she thought it was thunder, until she saw the bloom of orange light over Matt’s blankets. 

Scrambling out of the bed, she scampered over to the window, eyes scanning the smoky horizon. So far she counted three fires. Three separate plumes of smoke rising over the skyline. While she watched, another bomb blew, sending flames and debris high into the air. Without thinking she turned, running around the flat looking for her phone. Shaking out her jacket, her pants… Until she found it tucked under her purse on the sofa. Eleanor, Kate, Matt, Foggy, Karen, Kate, Kate, Kate, Kate… Her name overpowered all the others racing through her mind in that moment. She had to make sure Kate was alright. 

Without thinking she dialed Eleanor, waiting impatiently for the phone to ring. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six… 12 times the phone rang and her heart jumped at the click over the line only to fall tragically at the sound of her sister-in-law’s recorded voicemail. 

“Shit.” She whispered, pacing back and forth over Matt’s wood floors, her bare feet thumping softly, so like but also unlike her heartbeat. Strong and frantic rather than steady and consistent. “Eleanor, please, something’s going on in Hell’s Kitchen, I’m worried about you and Kate please call me back.” She swallowed hard. “I need to know you’re okay.” She ended the call with a shaky finger, dialing her niece’s phone next. 

It rang, again, 12 times before an automated voicemail touched her ears and she almost threw her phone in frustration. “Kate, honey, please call me back. Tell your mom it’s important, and stay inside if you can, okay?” She ended the call again, opening Foggy’s contact next, which also sent to voicemail. With a small sob of frustration, she left him a similar message, and another one in Karen’s. 

With a soft cry she threw her phone as hard as she could, the device bouncing off the back cushion of the sofa and landing with a muffled thud on Matt’s rug. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” She chanted, pushing her fingers through her hair frantically. 

“Please, please, please…” She ran to her phone, dialing one last time. Matt’s phone. As she listened to the emotionless dial tone of it ringing, she heard a soft voice from the bedroom and her heart dropped into her feet. 

She wandered slowly back to the nightstand, tears pricking in the corners of her eyes as she came face to face with Matt’s phone, vibrating gently on the small side table. 

“Shit.” 

In five minutes Natalie was out the door to Matt’s building, weaving between panicked bodies on the sidewalk and tucking her chin into her coat. She was somewhere between running and speed-walking, barely keeping track of the street signs and only looking up when she wasn’t sure which corner she was on. By the time she reached Park Avenue, she was running, counting doors and looking at the walls of windows until she found the familiar building, stopping in front of the door man who tipped his head and let her in. She thanked him quickly and nearly raced to the elevator, trying to comb some of the stray ash out of her hair. 

When she reached the top floor she knocked urgently, staring at the knocker, her dusty shoes, the carpet, anything but the door itself, nearly dreading but also near begging it to open. 

It finally did nearly four minutes later, and she almost broke down into sobs of relief at seeing her young niece holding the door open for her. 

“Oh my God, Kate.” She sighed, feeling something in her chest give at seeing her safe and alive. 

“You said to stay inside.” The girl said quietly, opening the door fully to rush out and hug her ash-covered aunt. “Aunt Nat, what’s going on?” 

“Just an accident downtown, I got worried.” She soothed, trying to catch her breath. She resigned herself to fail when she saw Eleanor Bishop round the corner to the entryway. 

“Kate, who-“ She paused, registering Natalie in the doorway. “Natalie, what happened to you?” She strode over to the other two girls, taking in her sister-in-law’s disheveled appearance. 

“Can I come in?” She choked, holding back her tears, still coming down from the adrenaline at seeing they were okay. 

“You ran here?” Eleanor scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. “Hell’s Kitchen is a mile and a half away!” 

“I had to make sure you and Kate were okay.” She said by way of explanation, taking a deep pull from the wine Eleanor had given her. “I saw the bombings and I got so scared-“ 

“Bombings?” Eleanor’s eyes widened. “Shit, Natalie you shouldn’t have left your apartment!”

“I didn’t know how many there were or how far they were spread and I couldn’t get to your phone-“ She shook her head, trying to calm her breathing. “Eleanor I was so scared something had happened to you two. I just needed to see that you were okay.” She downed the rest of the wine and pushed the cup away. “I can leave, I don’t want to be a problem-“

Eleanor met her as she stood, a hand on either of her shoulder. “Hey, stop.” The older woman spoke softly, drawing Natalie’s attention. “There’s no way you’re going back there tonight.” Natalie dropped her head, closing her eyes tightly. “Look, I know we’ve had our differences, okay? But you’re still family. Mine and Kate’s.” Eleanor swallowed, leaving her shoulders to awkwardly grip her hands. “Just stay here for tonight. The fires should be mostly out by morning and it’ll be safer to travel. The police are going to be reeling, it’s going to be chaos out there.” 

Natalie nodded absently along to what she was saying, the energy that had allowed her to get to the penthouse had faded fast, leaving her limbs feeling like lead. 

“I’ll get you set up in one of the guest rooms for the night.” Eleanor hummed softly. “Have another glass if you want, you look like you need it.” 

“Thank you.” Natalie whispered, watching Eleanor turn to leave. 

Eleanor paused, glancing at Natalie sadly over her shoulder. “It’s what Derek would do.” 

Unable to sleep, Natalie had resorted to watching whatever news coverage she could find on the bombings. Nothing concrete had come out yet. 

She sat up straighter at a grainy photo from what looked like a security camera, a slightly familiar black silhouette appearing in it. 

“This was taken just moments after the explosions that stunned Hell’s Kitchen earlier tonight, pulled from a security camera.” The newswoman droned on, and Natalie cupped a hand around her mouth in shock. Matt. That was Matt. “Authorities believe this man is responsible for the bombings, possibly as a part of an ongoing feud with the Russian Mob.” 

“Oh my God…” Natalie whispered, only breaking from her trance when her phone started to ring, piercing the quietness of the room in the wake of the newsreel. She didn’t recognize the number but she had a guess of who he was. “It’s you isn’t it?” She whispered into the phone. 

“Natalie, where are you?” 

“I’m safe. I’ve been trying to reach you, Foggy and Karen for hours!” She snapped, throwing the covers off the guest bed and standing from the plush mattress. “Matt, they’re saying on the news… They’re saying you killed those cops, that you bombed those buildings…” 

“No it was Fisk. It was all Fisk.” He panted, he sounded tired, like he’d been running. Or fighting.

“Matt what’s going on out there?” 

“Natalie I need you to listen to me very carefully.” He broke her off, the sound of sirens filling the air around them. “Stay somewhere safe, never say his name. Don’t let on to anyone that you know anything about this.”

“Matt, stop.” Natalie broke him off. 

“For what it’s worth, if I don’t get to talk to you again…” He sighed heavily. “Knowing you has made me better. You made me better.” 

“Matt-“ The line clicked. “Matt! Fuck!” She dropped the phone on the bed and fell to her knees, staring at the beige covers in front of her until a single resolution entered her mind. She shuffled closer to the bed on her knees, folding her arms and hands in front of her and bending her head, creating a soft space for her to exist in. It wasn’t a church. It wasn’t a pew. It wasn’t even a confessional booth. But it was hers, and it was God’s. That was all that mattered. 

“May the Father command it,” She prayed, remembering a specific Litany from school growing up. “May the son arrange it, and may the Holy Spirit appease the hearts of those who are against us.” She squeezed her fingers together so hard they hurt. “Come, Holy Spirit, enlighten the hearts of those who can favor us and those who may help us.” That line she would repeat ten times. But even after the first she could feel the way some of the pain was chipped off of her soul. 

Across town, Matt raised a hand to his lips, holding his crucifix between his fingertips, the chain still around his neck but the pendant pulled from underneath the shirt. “Come, Holy Spirit, enlighten the hearts of those who can favor us and those who may help us-“ Vladimir looked at him skeptically, but Matt paid him no mind. Whispering a prayer over himself for what was to come. A prayer for Natalie, too. 

a/n: little bit of a shorter chapter today. I'm easing back into posting as I've had quite a rough few weeks health wise. More Catholicism in this chapter too. This story isn't at all a story about Catholicism or glorifying it as a whole, but Natalie's faith is a huge part of her character and it plays a large role in her and Matt's relationship. I myself am not Catholic, but rather a denomination more similar to Protestant Christianity. I don't identify with this term particularly but it's the closest way to describe it. Most of the research for Matt and Natalie's practice has come from my own research and studying as well as friends who were raised Catholic. I by no means support any of the wrongdoings or problematic behaviors of the Catholic Church.

As always special thanks to @abucketofweird @sunflowersandsapphires and @madschiavelique for their continued support in this story, and if you would like to be added to a taglist please leave a comment below! If you liked this chapter please consider leaving a note or a comment, reading people's thoughts about this story always warms my heart.

Thank you for reading, and have a good day/night whatever time it is!

- Sybil :)

Tags:

@marytheweefrenchie

[shroudandsands]

Prompt #3, Extra Credit: Morass

“Walker.” He ignored the warning. The name. His name. They wouldn’t know it soon, anyways.

The daemon was running through their database. It’d deliver its first payload before he even made it back to his office. He’d be nothing but forgotten garbage in their lists before he could pick up his bag. Their security would be down by the time he hit the button in the elevator. Not the first floor. The roof. He waved his greetings to some coworkers who hadn’t checked their terminals yet. He held the door for another. He slipped by the last to hustle into the elevator before it closed. He’d made good time. He might even be early. He always liked to beat the projected schedule. Rain greeted him with a light wind as he stepped out and stared into the skyline- What little of it was visible in the cramped cityscape. But the neon and LED signs burned holes into his retinas in a way far more satisfying than starlight ever could. He breathed it all in. Like a cure. He was over the railing and staring down at the streets below by the time the daemon hit its stride. Database junked, outward connections terminated, hundreds of linked systems all going red. A screaming halt of commerce from a business that never thought they’d be a victim. Never thought they’d see the day. Well when your company-sponsored optics and biomons were all getting fried inside of you- You didn’t see much of anything coming. He watched the progress with an interest more fit for a stock ticker. Just a little bit longer and he’d have to disconnect from their internal network- The last thing the daemon would take down. The last thing on the list; fry everyone connected that it could. He wished he could claim it as a personal touch. The door slammed open behind him. Guns cocked. Security getting its act together? He turned to look. To watch, really. They fell as their implants burned through their flesh.

“Walker.” Came a voice this time. A call. Terse. A handler. “Time to go.” He sighed. He terminated his connection as he watched the datacenter go up in flames. He stepped into the neon-burnt air.   The rush of wind and rain as he fell with it now brought everything from circuit to bone back to life in him. Trapped for months in an office with shitheads and shitheels everywhere he looked. On orders to play nice, on orders to become integral. He did it. He always could. They’d lean on him and he’d be the cornerstone for their day to day. He’d be the cog in the machine that was barely running. He’d slave away to keep everything shiny and golden. He’d play the game. It was only made up for by the sight of the flames. And the fall he always wanted. Blades kicked out from his hands, from his feet; gripped tight and swung as he reoriented. The first dug into the concrete wall, the next into glass, his feet slamming in time to drive him completely into the building’s side. A stop sudden enough to kill even the most prepared of jumpers and more than enough to rip the limbs off of anyone else. But this was his drug. The daemon might’ve done its job, but the devil had one thing left on his list.

The blade crushed the reinforced glass as he twisted it. The pane destroyed with another thrust before he could force his way into the building. His hand bled as he stepped in once more.

He was already heading towards the executive suite. Dead center of the building. The board would be dead by the time he got there. He’d find the stragglers burned up from the inside before he even had his hands on their datashards. But there was still one more. The one sensible freak amongst the whole of this shitfest. Not an implant in his head. Nothing connected to local networks. A real stranger in a city full of chromed up psychos. His bloodied thumb drifted along the edge of the metal that adorned his temples. Yeah. Chromed up psychos. He kicked in the door. A bunker two floors down hidden behind a false wall. Not listed on building schematics but found through a housekeeper who’d accidentally triggered it years before. They’d been scrambled and discharged. Left to rot. He found them. Tore the info out of them. He remembered it well. And here he was to repeat the act.

That was months ago. His hand was still scarred from the window. His knees didn’t bend quite right from catching himself. His blades didn’t quite leap from his wrists like they used to. His head hurt trying to recall his life. And he was suffering from it all in the back of the cheapest pickup he’d ever seen.

He’d always craved the fall. Going from the highest highs where he knew he didn’t belong. Back down to the street, back down to the sad reflections of faded stars and neon lights. But sitting in the back of a truck out in the wastes, out in the junkyard? Walker lifted his hand as he racked his memories. He wasn’t sure he’d ever fallen this far. He wasn’t sure if he liked it. He laid back down in the truck bed. He breathed in the dusty air. Night City stared down at him- Like it was checking on him. Wondering if he’d had enough. As if to ask him if he’d had enough high-flying.

His middle finger greeted the sunrise backlit by a neon sky.

[revelisms]

Excerpt: An Artificial Sun

Silco recounts a past life.

From 'bitter bright wings,' a character study of Silco and Jinx set after Episode 5. Full story on AO3

"In the river, you told me..." She turns her cup in her hands, warm against her palms. "You told me you let—let a weak man die."

He tips his mug into a slow sip. "I did."

Her nails click over the porcelain. "I guess I—I was just...curious." 

He waits for her to elaborate further. She doesn't. "About what?" he prods, and glances down at her. The fire of his left eye glows in the dim. "Who that man was?"

"Well—" She curls her fingers slow about her cup. Shrugs softly. "Yeah."

He turns back to the skyline. There's a pause in the way he lifts his cigarette, something one might call hesitation, before he takes another drag. He lets the smoke sit in his throat. Breathes it out. 

She hates it, when he's quiet like this. She hunches upon herself, so close to ripping the words back; spitting out forget it, or I'm sorry, or fleeing, entirely.

"I spent years, looking for purpose," he says then, and his tone is strange. "In the dark. In the mines."

He tacks off the ash from his cigarette, peering absently over the balcony's metalwork to the sea of emerald-fogged buildings cobbled below. "Digging through the rocks, until your fingers bleed," he continues, faraway. "One can lose their minds, down there. No matter how hard you fight for something—there's always more earth to slough through. More tunnels to carve out. Every hour longer than the last; every day bleeding to another."

She looks up at him, quietly. The wind has loosened his hair from its usual coif, scattered over his brow. He's dug one hand into the crook of his elbow: the cigarette turned slow, pensive, within the other. The light washes out the red of his shirt to a bloody brown.

"That sort of life," he mutters on, embers in the words, "it starves you, for reassurance. That every bone you've broken has been worth something—and all the time you've wasted away will pay off, in the end." He stares out over the smog, the winding dark of the rooftops, the ghoulish giant of a city on a hill high, high, above, and chuckles, bitterly. "Can you blame them?" he muses. The fire of his eye burns on something she can't see. 

He takes another drag, slowly. "I was willing to do anything, to get out." Venom, in that word—and she has heard it before. He's never shied away from baring the ruthlessness of those years in the filth, climbing rung after blood-stained rung. In some ways, it is a mantle: a declaration of achievement, fought for tooth and nail. The cigarette bounces in his fingers. "But," he says quietly, and his mouth turns tense. "You spend so long underground, it roots inside you. The sun turns cold. And everything you spent months, years, scavenging for feels like dust, blown away."

She looks down into her cup, fingertips caught on the smooth slope of its clay. His words pause again, muddling—but it's alright, now. She focuses on what she can. The city is never quiet: but this early, a stillness blankets it. A breeze whispers about the building's edges.

Smoke unspools blue above him. "Then, one day," he continues, frowning, "someone comes along, who lights that fire in you—and you forget. All the fight you had in you; the power you gave yourself. You burn it all away." He rests his head against the rough stone of the Drop's old wall. "That faith in something that is not your own—it breaks you. Turns you reliant." The word stings, like a blade. "An artificial sun, replacing whatever that dead thing in the sky used to be—and when you lose it..." The words trail out to a whisper. He taps the unlit end of his cigarette on the railing, once, twice. "You're nothing." 

The memory festers, in the quiet. It fills the space between them, thick as oil. He takes another drag. "Or," he breathes out, waving the embers towards their slow-built empire. "It frees you. Reminds you why you survived, before. How you survived, before."

She rests her cheek on her knee, and swallows. She can feel his eyes slip towards her: weighing out his words, turning them over. 

"Sometimes," Silco murmurs, and it is gentle for all the fire that sits in it, a furrow creasing his brow, "we have to kill parts of ourselves, to remember. But those parts of you—they never leave you." He swirls the dark pool of his coffee. Takes a slow sip. "Not completely."

[greatdragonorion]

Dear Love

I remember last summer when we watched the sunset on the cliffs near town. I watched as that smile of yours grew across your face. You loved the way all of the lights turn off blanketing the horizon with darkness, ready to signal the end of the day. You told me something then, in that language of yours. I do not know what you said and I may never know what you said, but I know it was beautiful.

Under the light of the new moon, the air grew frigid. The wind stung my face and like a fool, I forgot my scarf. You lit a fire for me. The warm glow of the blaze glistened off of your ivory skin. It was one of the most beautiful sights. You kept me warm and safe that night. I just wish I could relive that again.

I visited again the next day asking how to speak that language of yours. I wanted to understand you. I wanted to know how all of the words you say are turned into poetry in my mind. I brought a book that was supposed to help. That old, rotting cover I dug out from the back of the library. The librarian was confused about where I found it. There were no records of it anywhere, but it had everything I needed. All of the words and phrases you spoke. You stared at that book, the happiness gone from your eyes. I guess I was the only one who found joy that night.

The day after that, I knew I had to make it up, so I brought you a gift. That carmine drink you say you always crave. It was hard to get a hold of. I had to ask so many people. They were confused and concerned about why I would want it. You wouldn’t believe what I had to do to get it. I found it though, a friend of mine hooked me up. When I  gave it to you though, there was disappointment. That smile of yours faded. You said you wanted more than the puny sample that I brought. How this will never be enough. How I am not devoted enough. All I can say is sorry.

I miss you so much. I haven’t seen you in so long, yet you were the only thing I could think about. Every thought just comes back to you. It got so bad that a friend told me that I looked sick. That my face was pale and sunken. I told them I had never felt better. That my days were joyous and filled with wonder. My brother told me once that I muttered nonsense in my sleep. That I spoke words that he didn’t understand. I told him that I’d been sleeping great. I always wake up feeling well slept and ready to start the day. Everyone simply gives that damn smile of pity and walks away.

They don’t understand. They won’t ever understand what I see. I read through that book. I finally learned that language. I know what you said. I understand your wishes, and why you craved more of that drink, and I want to make them come true. Tonight, we shall meet on the beach. I’ve arranged for people to arrive at Sunfall for the supposed moon festival. There will be pies and dances to lure them all in. We will revel at the allure of the lunar eclipse, and then the allure of you. The skies will be ablaze from the electric fires of the skyline. Soon they will burn from the true fires until they are pure.

When the mayor will give a speech about how our city is changing and growing, that is when you will come—striding from the ocean in your everlasting glory. It will be such a grand occasion, can’t you see! I set up a fireworks display to announce your arrival. I designed it so each flare has a little piece of you, a thought, an idea. It will shape the world down to its very core. Down with the clouds, they shall burn upon the sky. Down with the cars that throw smoke, they will rip apart those who oppose you with their steel maws. Down with the skyscrapers and bring forth the spires that stretch beyond in ruby and diamond. Down with the trees and leaves and rise the branches of your neurons, pulsing with every thought. The people will be one with you. They will be as you wish, shaped by your will into nothing more than pawns for your game.

You will spread through the roots and water. The lands far away will hear you laugh as you consume all. It will be yours! The world will know your name. You will ride the wills of birds and bears to deep valleys and mountain peaks, and I will be there with you, riding the waves of change. Sitting by your throne at the peak of the world. I will always be there for you. I love you.

[blood-injections]

This is part 2 of a scrapped au that'll just be a one shot or something.

Part 1

"Poison?!" He gasped into the stark white room. Fun Ghoul was awake- in more ways than one.

They had revived him and then drugged him to interrogate him and make him fall into line. He had tried to fight back, to devise a plan to escape but failed and after a while he resorted to the only thing left that he could think of.

"There's more than electricity coursing through this city." He'd tell himself, trying to do the impossible and connect to something bigger than himself that he had only heard stories about. It worked- he assumed- and even as his mind succumbed to artificial fog he'd try and reach out, to connect to Party Poison's energy and send feelings or thoughts that he's alive and about where he was and that no matter what, he'd find a way home.

But finally, the drugs took over and they made him into their slave. A weapon. An exterminator.

Up until this moment when the sudden connection brought his true self back behind the wheel, he realized he had been in the back of his mind, he had been in a sort of dream state for months- unconscious but it seems he had never stopped trying to reach out with his soul and now, suddenly, it was a two-way connection.

Even across a desert, they both suddenly knew that they were connected, that they were both out there searching for the other. Poison had woken him up and he could finally escape. The information was somehow relayed to him back at Doctor Death's and he cried from happiness. Ghoul could sneak out and he knew that Poison would be waiting for him at the city gates.

After a long moment of their energy and emotions amd souls melding together they both knew that whatever was going to happen needed to hurry up and happen. Besides, they just wanted to see eachother again and soon as possible. Poison needed to get back to the diner and tell the others and Ghoul needed to get out of the city without the the director noticing that her trophy left without authorization.

So, the connection was severed and Ghoul was left grinning wildly into an empty room and Poison was left to stand back up, unspeakably relieved tears running down his face while he tackled Doctor D and exclaimed that his partner was in fact very much alive.

With that Poison hurries back to the diner, telling the others to hurry and and get dressed, that they had to go and that they'd explain on the way.

"Ghoul's alive." They say when they're finally speeding towards the city.

A beat of stunned silence passed once the words were voiced.

"What?" Kobra finally echoed.

"He's alive, he's in Battery City, he's about to escape and I'll be damned if we don't get there in time to pick him up."

"Wait- for real?" Jet gasped in shock, the killjoy's eyes were wide.

"Yes, I don't know all the details, I just know he's there and I think he can get out fairly easily."

"How do you-" Jet asked and Poison cut him off to explain the dream and his what if and his conversation with Doctor D.

Maybe they didn't completely understand or believe what he told them, but they could tell he wasn't lying, they could see the sincerity and honesty- the pure joy and relief that was in Poison's eyes. They could see that he believed what he said and with the purpose that that belief gave him he was back to his usual driven and focused self and that he was ready to fight an army single-handed if he had too.

So, even if they didn't quite know what to think, their Party Poison was back and they'd follow him to the end.

"Alright." Kobra hummed, agreeing out of sympathy and hope as he stared down the approaching skyline. "Let's go fucking get him."

-

Meanwhile, on the inside of those walls, Ghoul was in front of a vanity. He grimaced in pain as he dug the tracking chip out of the back of his neck. When he finally got the small foreign body out of his skin, he flicked it into the toilet, wiping the blood from his fingertips and slapping a bandage over the messy cut, if it needed to be someone could stitch it up when he was finally back home.

Home.

He breathed the word as he looked at his reflection, it didn't look like him. Short hair and a spotless face. White teeth and no stubble on his smooth, clean-shaved jawline. The most familiar part of his face was the scar that ran from the corner of his mouth towards his ear, the scar given to him in a fight with Korse years ago, the same Korse that a few months ago had killed him, the same Korse that while drugged he had been working with.

His fingertips ran over the raised skin on his cheek as bile rose in his throat. He turned away from his refection with the unfamiliar, too-clean face and the uniform of someone that hunted killjoys and he left the place he had somehow been living in with without looking back. It would have no trace of him but the blood left smeared from his dirty fingers on the edge of the sink, a warning to whoever found the apartment empty.

If he had more time he would've left something else, something rigged to explode- but he was on a hurry to get home.

BLI still had his original clothes somewhere- assuming they didn't burn it all- they very well might have. He'd love to have them back but he didn't actually mind that much, he could always paint a new gun or find a new jacket- even if he'd been wearing that ratty old vest since he was a kid in the slums.

And did Poison get his gun? He faintly remembered dying, he had the hazy memory of reaching out for Posion as blood filled his mouth. He could remember telling him to run as he held out his gun for him to take, something extra to fight with as they got away or to give the Phoenix Witch- but that's all he remembered. Anyway, at least he had what was most important- his life and control back over his own mind.

He tried his best to look like he belonged there on those city streets, keeping a flat, serious expression as he strutted toward the gates like he had a job to do. He kept character even if he wanted nothing more than to break into a sprint down the road.

He didn't have a plan other than get the fuck out, he was just headed for the gates. He could sense Poison getting closer and it made him feel like he was vibrating, his heart beating wildly in his chest. It was like an invisible string was connecting them and it was pulled taught as it reeled them in towards eachother.

His family was on their way, and soon he'd be back in his home- the desert, the diner. He'd have his brothers and he'd have Poison and he'd have their familiar warm bed. He'd be able to close his eyes and feel like himself again.

-

"So we're just gonna bust in? Alarms'll go off and we'll have Korse on our ass in a second." Kobra commented, Poison just nodded slightly.

"That's why it'll be in and out." He said, "Ram through the boom gate, pick him up and get the fuck outta there."

They were almost there, rapidly approaching the tunnel to the city. "He's almost there too." He said, he could feel it, it was like they were being drawn to eachother. God, he couldn't wait to see him again.

The orangish artificial light of the tunnel suddenly engulfed them as they were surrounded by concrete on every side. A few seconds of speed ahead of them was the striped bar that raised to let in BLI vehicles.

They definitely weren't in a BLI vehicle so Poison grinned madly as he floored it, the car jolting as it hit the rail which easily snapped as they drove right through it. As they sped into the start of the city red lights started to flash behind them, now it was all a matter of timing.

Ghoul heard the sirens coming from the gate in the distance and laughed, looking around and finally breaking character as he sprinted towards the exit. A flash of colour fired from the mouth of the tunnel and swerved with a screech of burning rubber, it spun to a halt ahead of him and Ghoul ran towards it. He saw Poison's face behind the windshield, mouth open in a wide, wild grin. Their eyes met and Ghoul almost collapsed and started crying in joy right then and there, but there was no time to loiter. The back door was thrown open for him and he jumped right in, tackling whoever was in the backseat. Poison quicky turned around and sped back out of the tunnel they had just invaded.

Jet and Kobra stared at him, Poison was focused on driving, fighting the urge to stop the car and embrace Ghoul. He'd wait until they got back to the diner and all were safe and sound.

"Holy shit." Kobra finally said, Jet was frozen with disbelief as he looked at his friend who was staring right back at him. Ghoul was already basically half on Jet's lap from where he had barrelled into the backseat so it was easy for them to immediately tear up and wrap their arms around eachother. Ghoul squeezed his friend desperately and his watering eyes overflowed as Jet Star shook with a silent sob.

It didn't take long to get through the zones at the speed that Poison didn't let up on, sand leaving a cloud behind them. Nothing was said during the drive, everything had happened so fast the shock of it all had yet to let up. In the backseat Jet didn't let Ghoul go, the back-from-the-dead killjoy didn't complain, he just relished in the safety of being reunited with his family and in their familiar car that was just as much home to him as the diner was.

Finally they pulled to a stop outside the diner and Poison was slack expressioned behind the wheel. The rest of them immediately got out at which Kobra embraced Ghoul, shaking a little as he said how good it was to see him again.

Poison didn't emerge until after a moment had passed and they had separated and he had removed the key out from the transmission, stepping out to stare at his partner, who stared right back.

Finally, the waterworks broke and Poison choked out a sob as he ran forward to envelope Ghoul in his arms, holding him desperately and pressing his face into his shoulder, soaking his white shirt with his tears. Ghoul sobbed as well as he squeezed him back and they rocked side to side.

After a long, long embrace that still wasn't nearly long enough Poison inhaled roughly and pulled back, moving a hand to Ghoul's cheek. "They cut your hair." He said softly and Ghoul closed his eyes and giggled, leaning into Poison's hand.

"Yeah, it's horrible." Ghoul choked out, hands still locked behind Poison's back.

"I missed you so much." Poison sobbed, their foreheads falling together.

"I fought for you." Ghoul breathed, and Poison finally kissed him desperately, his lips were salty from their tears.

Ghoul eagerly returned it until they regretfully pulled apart, realizing they should really go inside.

"I love you so fucking much." Ghoul uttered and Poison returned it, stepping back to wipe his face and smile at his partner. Kobra and Jet had since left them when they realized they weren't going to let go of eachother anytime soon, so they held hands as they finally entered the diner.

Ghoul took a deep breath as he walked through the doorway, taking in the familiar scent of the desert and the Diner's scent of hot leather and cigarette smoke. He exhaled a relieved sigh as he spoke.

"Home sweet home." 

---bonus---

Poison watched him with a slight frown, unlike Poison's rough expression of sunken, sleep deprived eyes and frown lined and his own skinny form frail from grief and struggle- Ghoul looked quite healthy.  He looked strong as ever and undamaged unless you looked closely and found all the scars from years of battle scattered amongst his tattoos- but who knows what they had out him through while he was stuck in battery city.

He frowned deeper at sight of the bloodied bandage on the back of Ghoul's neck but was distracted from all his thoughts as Ghoul turned around to him to press a short kiss to his lips. Poison's eyes dropped to his partner's chest, he had yet to put on a new shirt

"Do you have a scar?" He asked softly, fingers trialing up Ghoul's torso to his chest delicately, searching for a mark from the shot that should have killed him.

Ghoul's breath hitched as he answered. "Yeah, it's there." He said, guiding Poison's hand to the raised circular mark near his heart.

"How did you survive that?" Poison breathed, "We left you there to die, if I knew there was a chance-"

"Shut up." Ghoul said, putting a soft hand on Poison's cheek, thumb caressing the smooth skin beneath it. "You know I hate it when you blame yourself for things that aren't your fault. I was- you couldn't have done anything, it was their technological sorcery that resuscitated me."

Poison sighed, his hand laying flat on Ghouls warm chest, the gentle rise and fall beneath his fingers soothed him tremendously and he smiled softly.

"What happened to your neck?" He asked and Ghoul's hand reached towards the bandage.

"Oh, I forgot about that. I had to cut out a tracking chip they put in me, it was pretty small."

Poison cursed and Ghoul smiled at him. "I'm fine." He reassured, "Actually, I'm better than ever." He said, finally pulling a soft, long-faded shirt over himself.

"Because I'm back home, all thanks to you." He said, leaning forward to kiss Poison again, snaking his arms around him as he immediately kissed back, sighing against Ghoul's lips.

"I'm never fucking letting go of you again." Poison said when they separated.

"Good, cause' me neither." Returned Ghoul, grinning joyfully as he swept Poison into his arms bridal style.

"Ghoul!" He laughed loudly as his feet left the ground.

Ghoul bent his head to kiss Poison's cheek as he protested, giggling and carrying Poison out of their room.

Kobra grinned at the sight as they stumbled back into the room, glad to hear a laugh from his brother again. The room felt warm and full of life again- it hadn't in months.

Ghoul didn't put Poison down until he got to the shitty old couch that Kobra and Jet had moved to. He sat down sideways to face the others but didn't separate from his partner who had both arms wrapped around his midsection, listening from over his shoulder.

"I can't remember a lot of it." Ghoul began softly as the others gazed at him. "But I'll tell you guys what I do."