#it’s been three weeks of the little electric current

[halfelven]

oh wait i think electrocuting myself is working

[ginxyy]

Stupid in love

Baby, I'm so stupid in love

You sit on the edge of your bed, the moonlight streaming through the window, illuminating your heart like a spotlight on a stage designed just for you. The soft notes of your cover of “Stupid in Love” still play in your mind, as if the melody is gently coaxing you towards a decision that feels impossibly heavy. It’s been a week since you ran out of Seungcheol’s house, your heart racing faster than the words that left his lips the words you should have said back. Instead, you had fled, a whirlwind of anxiety and emotion propelling you into the cool night without a backward glance.

He had said those three pivotal words: “I love you.” And in that moment, the world had narrowed down to just the two of you the breath of the night, the warmth of his skin, and the glimmer of hope in his eyes. The density of love was overwhelming, bearing down on you like a weight you weren't prepared to lift. So instead of engaging with his vulnerability, you had locked away your feelings and let fear guide your steps to the safety of the night.

Though your schedules kept you apart, the silence felt heavier with each passing day. You were both thriving in your careers he as the charismatic leader of Seventeen, captivating millions with his charm and talent, and you as a rising star in the same world that had once felt like a dream. Yet, the distance between you felt entirely too real, insurmountable even, as you busied yourself with rehearsals, interviews, and recording.

Your heart, however, continued to ache with an overwhelming longing. You spent countless moments imagining what he was doing, who he was with, and if he was thinking of you as much as you thought of him. Everything reminded you of him the silly little things like the way he twitched his nose when something amused him, or the deep way he laughed when something struck him funny. A week gone by without his warm embrace felt like a universe without stars; you thrived, yet felt adrift.

And then, the idea struck you a bittersweet remedy to mend the rift that had swiftly formed between the two of you. You would pour your emotions into your music, into the very verses that screamed of what you felt toward him. “Stupid in Love” was the perfect anthem for your tumultuous heart. You rehearsed the lyrics until they naturally flowed from your lips, channeling all the joys and regrets, the fear and excitement that came with loving him. With each note, you envisioned his eyes, filled with surprise and clarity, as he listened.

After you posted the cover, you felt a rush of relief but also lingering anxiety. What if he didn’t understand? What if he didn’t feel the same? With your heart clenched tight in your chest, you decided to link it to him directly while he was in Woozi's studio, hoping he might listen. As you watched through the closed door, you caught a glimpse of him, sitting casually, his earphones snug against him, blissfully absorbed in your voice.

Little did he know you were just behind him, your heart pounding audibly, filling the air with your unsaid feelings as if they had a voice of their own. He leaned into the music, his brows furrowed in concentration, the soft light from the studio screen flipping off his face, illuminating the contours of his features you had come to adore. It was in that moment that something shifted within you an electric current pulsing through your body, urging you to stop hiding and to embrace the moment.

You stepped into the room, your heart palpably racing. He turned at the sound of your entrance, surprise flashing in his eyes that melted into something warmer. The tension that had thrummed between you for days ignited like a spark. Without thinking, you rushed toward him, your arms wrapping around him from behind, a cocoon of warmth enveloping the both of you. You could feel the steady beat of his heart matching the rhythm of your own.

“I love you,” you breathed into the nape of his neck, your voice soft yet steady. The words fell from your lips as effortlessly as breathing, a release as you surrendered to the love you had been holding onto so desperately.

Seungcheol stilled, his body tensing for just a heartbeat before he turned to face you completely. The grin that broke across his face could light up the darkest of nights. “You mean it?” he asked, his voice a mixture of joy and disbelief, eyes wide with a glimmer of hope.

“Yes,” you whispered, feeling an urgency to bridge the chasm that had widened between you, “I mean it. I’m so sorry for running away. I was scared.”

His laughter rang out, rich and infectious, and the sound settled over your worries like a warm blanket. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that,” he admitted, pulling you closer, the space between you nonexistent. “I was afraid I scared you off.”

The weight of the week lifted, and in its place, the warmth of intimacy flourished between you. With a shared laugh, he tilted your chin up, locking his gaze with yours. The sincerity in his eyes ignited something within you a renewed confidence, a firm certainty that your love was mutual.

In that studio, with the dim lights casting soft shadows, surrounded by the remnants of creativity and companionship, you felt anchored. No longer drifting apart, you had found your way home in each other, in love.

“I love you, Seungcheol,” you said, your hand entwining with his as the world outside faded into the background, leaving just the two of you, wrapped in the certainty that love could endure, that hearts could entwine, even in the most complicated of rhythms.

[irawhiti]

no tagging please lol

hey so uh. a little while back i was forced to leave where i lived for my own safety due to racist violence. i'm currently homeless living in an uninsulated caravan full of holes with my parents in the middle of nowhere (literally, it's over an hour to the nearest small town and 30 people live in an entire hour radius. i'm very remote.) with no electricity, water, or plumbing. we had a generator but it's been broken for several weeks now and we have EXTREMELY limited power because of it which means we have no heating at all. on top of that, since we have no heat or plumbing, if i want to take a shower i have to pay a minimum of $30 ish for petrol and the shower cost to get a lift into the nearest town and back. i can't really wash using a basin as often as i want to because of disabilities that are severely affected by cold and i'd have to wash out in the open in a field since we have no shed to wash in which is uhh... haha not ideal lol. as you can imagine. we don't really have any neighbours (they can still see us but they're not here right now) but it's extremely paranoia inducing. it also means i have to handwash all my clothes which has been causing issues with my disabilities too.

i hate to ask but could i please get some help to buy some warm clothes and bedding or something? several people on the block have contracted hypothermia in the past week and due to where we live we get hit with antarctic storms fairly frequently. i've been trying to stay positive but i'm honestly so fucking cold and getting increasingly malnourished, like i'm australian and all my clothes are only really good to keep warm if it's above like 15c/59f. it's also just very expensive just to exist here because it costs $40 in gas to get to the closest town we can actually buy groceries from + we need to buy and scavenge firewood wherever we find it because campfires are the only way we can heat up water or cook anything right now. i've been foraging and trapping invasive animals to supplement my diet but it's really not enough and i've been getting sick from malnourishment again. we also had e-coli in the household recently and three of us have gone into hospital (including myself) in the past month and i'm kind of at my limit. since we have no power i've had to pay a stupid amount for my phone bill and data also like everything is truly so fucking expensive.

pāypāl.me/hoodypet

please specify that it's for irawhiti, this is my friend's paypal. thank you so much if you can help me at all, i'm trying to take this shit in stride but i'm kind of absolutely fucked right now as much as i hate to admit it

[from-memphis-with-love]

Magic Man

Summary: Elvis breaks in a virgin. Word count: ~2,200 words of pure, unadulterated smut inspired by this post. This is purely a work of fiction, and from what I have read of how Elvis actually treated his lovers in real life, is probably a lot less tender and loving than the actual Elvis would have been. But it's make believe and fun, so enjoy it! Warnings: 20 year age gap, dubious consent at some points, full intercourse, course language. Somewhat callous treatment of Elvis' taste for younger women.

His bedroom is a gilded cage, dripping with excess and the stench of hedonism. Elvis's entourage has left them alone, finally, after weeks of teasing glances and knowing winks. Tonight, it’s just him and his prey—sweet little Molly van Patton. All night, she’s tried to resist, but his primal aura is too strong to deny. He’s charming. Dangerous. A seasoned, world-famous rock star. And she's just a 19-year-old innocent, trembling on the edge of womanhood. Just like he likes ‘em.

Their meeting felt like some sort of strange, cosmic joke. She wasn’t a fan, hadn’t even intended to go see his show. But her best friend convinced her, one thing led to another, and now here she is, somehow lying in his colossal bed like a tiny helpless creature, her presence filling him with a burning desire to crush and destroy.

Now, he traces his lips down her neck, pausing to nuzzle at the hollow of her collarbone. Sweetly at first, then more insistently as she drags long, jagged breaths. Molly can’t help but gasp under the full weight of him, her body opening up in ways she’s never experienced before. It’s heady and intoxicating and dangerous and delicious and—

Oh. Oh. 

Each touch sets off an electric current, making her arch closer. She runs her fingers through the thick hair on his chest, feeling the cool metal of his gold lion's head medallion pressed against her own breasts. But as he reaches for her waistband, she hesitates.

“Stop,” Molly trembles. Heat flushes her cheeks. "I’m not… I don’t…"

Elvis nuzzles her neck. His hand is dangerously close to unzipping her skirt. He’s in a taking mood tonight.

“Please,” she pleads. “Won’t they know what we’re doing in here?”

Elvis chuckles, a low, deep rumbling sound that vibrates through her very bones. “Baby, they don’t care. They’re probably already placing bets on how long you’ll last.”

Molly's heart plummets into her stomach. Of course they knew. All those knowing glances and hushed whispers, they’d known all along. Her face flushes and it's all she can do to grab her things and run.

But Elvis doesn't give her time to process this newfound knowledge. His insistent lips find her earlobe, nibbling it lightly as he whispers lewd suggestions she can't comprehend but her body understands. Against her better judgment, heat pools between her legs, and she bites back a moan of desire. 

"Just one more," Elvis purrs, his voice thick with want, sending shivers down Molly's spine. "One more’n I'll stop.”

But one more turns into two, and then three, and before she knows it, she’s powerless under him. She feebly attempts to push him away, but his strong arms grasp her tighter. His grip is firm but not quite enough to leave bruises. Not yet at least. But she knows it’s coming. Braces for it. His lips find her neck again.

The heat between her thighs grows unbearable, and she clenches them together, as if that could stop the freight train that is Elvis Presley. As if it could cool the fire raging through her veins. She’s never felt so alive, so free, so needed and… so scared, as she does tonight in his arms. But as he inches lower, kiss by agonizing kiss awakening something primal inside her, Molly panics.

This is really happening.

She’s about to give herself to a man she barely knows, a man nearly twenty years her senior. One who could crush her like a fly if he wanted to. Her heart kicks into overdrive, adrenaline coursing as she manages to shove him off. 

“No!” she cries out, the word catching in her throat. Molly’s outburst gives Elvis pause. Hurt and confusion flash across his face as he pulls back, propping himself up on one elbow. 

“What is it?” his voice is gruff but not unkind.

Molly turns her face away, cheeks flaming. How can she tell him? That despite her adventurous friend and all the talk, she's never actually… that he would be her first. 

Elvis regards her steadily. Impossibly long black lashes curtain the genuine concern in his eyes. Molly's pulse throbs in her ears. 

"Please don't make me say it," she whispers finally. Molly squeezes her eyes shut, willing the tears not to fall. But a single drop escapes, trailing down her cheek. 

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "It's just… I've never…"

Understanding dawns on Elvis' face. He brushes the tear from her face with surprising tenderness. 

"Never been with a man before?" he asks gently. 

Molly shakes her head, a furious blush creeping up her neck. She expects anger, derision, rejection. For him to throw her out and call for the next girl. 

But instead, Elvis tips her chin up to look at him. "Oh honey," he murmurs. "Why didn't you tell me?" 

Molly's breath catches in her throat as Elvis regards her with unexpected tenderness. His hands, which moments before seemed so insistent, now caress her face and arms with featherlight touches. 

"I was afraid you wouldn't want me anymore," she confesses, her voice barely above a whisper.

Elvis shakes his head, a sad smile on his lips. "Oh darlin', that don't matter one bit to me. I want you, Molly girl. I want to make you feel real good." 

He drags his thumb over her bottom lip and Molly shivers. She knows she should leave, should find Doreen and book it out of there before she does something reckless. But the way Elvis is looking at her, like she's the only woman in the world… it makes her feel powerful. Desired. Dangerous.

She... likes it?

"Just relax and lemme take care of you," Elvis murmurs, his breath hot against her ear. With that, the last of her resolve melts. 

His hands, knowing and sure, explore her curves, leaving trails of fire in their wake. She moans, melting into him, her body betraying her. She's scared, yes, but she's also aching for more. He senses her hesitation, easing her back even further, parting her thighs with a tenderness belied by the impressive size of his hands. His eyes are hungry, admiring the perfect, trembling creature before him. 

"You're so beautiful," he breathes, running a calloused finger along her jawline. His words were like sweet poison, both thrilling and terrifying. "Shh, baby," he coos, "I gotcha."

He kisses her, his lips firm yet gentle, as if he can taste her innocence. Her first kiss, her first everything, all with him. She was born for him.

*

His lips trail down her breasts, leaving a path of fire in their wake. Molly arches into the sensation, the soft scratch of his stubble against her skin. His hand slides down to her stomach, fingertips tracing the sensitive flesh just below her belly button. 

"Do you want me to stop?" he asks hoarsely. She shakes her head, unable to form words. "Say it, Molly girl." He presses a kiss to her hip bone, nipping lightly at it. 

"No," she gasps. "Don't stop."

He smiles against her skin. "Good girl," he purrs before lowering his mouth to where she's aching for him most.

His tongue flicks forward, teasing her entrance and Molly cries out, her fingers curling into the silk sheets. She looks down at him—somewhere down there—through one open eye.

"Is that what... are you supposed to be—"

Before she can finish her sentence, his hands grip her thighs. Fear and desire battle within her, but desire wins out as curious pecks and licks turn into long, languid strokes. Bracing himself, Elvis feasts on her, like she's the most delicious thing he's ever tasted. She finally opens her eyes and there he is in all his glory: lapping at her, coaxing the desire out of her body and onto his waiting tongue. Wave after wave of pleasure courses through her. "Oh God," she whuffs out, her head thrown back in ecstasy. 

Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice wonders what everyone else must be thinking. But then Elvis's tongue buries itself deep within again, soft and wet, and all thoughts vanish into thin air. His hands grip the soft flesh of her hips, guiding her closer to him as he laps at her vulnerable center. She's never felt anything like this before, the pleasure so unbearable it hurts. 

"That's it, baby," he growls into her glistening pussy, "ride it out."

And she does. His tongue flicks and swirls, plunging inside her, mimicking what she imagines is his impressive length. 

By now, the whole house must hear her moans, but she doesn’t care. She’s coming undone whether she wants to or not, and she’s never felt more alive.

“Oh, Elvis,” she moans, her voice high and desperate, “Oh, I—”

Molly van Patton shudders and bucks against him, her first ever orgasm coursing through her body like wildfire. He doesn't stop though, not until she's sobbing and spent, her juices coating his face. He looks up at her through hooded lids, a satisfied smirk on his full lips.

“I ain’t done with you yet.”

*

He moves up her body, his manhood hard and throbbing against her thigh. Her entrance flutters in anticipation, and Elvis smiles at the sight. He positions himself there, large and intimidating. 

“Relax, li’l girl,” he whispers in her ear. “I’ll be real gentle.” Molly looks up at him, eyes wide, pleading. 

“You sure you want this?”

She nods dutifully.

“Say it f’me, now.” 

“I want you inside me.”

That’s all he needs. Before she can take it back, he slides in an inch, and then another. He’s so big, stretching her so wide she’s certain she’ll split in half. Certain he'll pierce her and she'll never be the same again. Tears leak from her eyes, mixing with the mascara from earlier.

“Shh,” he soothes, “I got you.” His accent is thicker than usual, sweet like molasses. Slowly, bit by excruciating bit, Elvis works himself inside her tight heat. Molly bites her lip to stifle a moan, but it escapes anyway.

At that, Elvis groans, and then he’s entering her more and more until he bottoms out. He's still for a moment, ensuring she can truly take in all of his length. “Tell me how it feels,” he grunts, as he slowly picks up speed.

“It hurts,” she pants out. But it’s a delectable sort of hurt. He’s filling her up in ways she never thought possible. Each thrust has her teeth bitting his shoulder tighter.

“I know, baby,” he coos into her ear, “but it gets better, I promise.”

And somehow, it does. The pain eases and is replaced with a delicious ache that has her hips rocking towards his.. Heat pools in her belly as he claims her with every thrust, like she was made for him and only him.

“You’re so tight,” he moans. “Made for me.”

It’s a mantra, a vow, as a he pistons in and out, breaking her in with every stroke. Her climax from before was nothing compared to this. She’s soon whimpering, clawing at his back, an evil sob stuck in her throat. 

"That's it, baby," he pants, "give it all to me."

Elvis pulls out swiftly, leaving Molly empty and aching. In one smooth motion, he flips her over onto her stomach. 

"On your knees," he commands.

Molly whimpers but obeys, presenting herself to him on all fours. Elvis groans at the sight, gripping her hips tightly. 

He enters her from behind in one powerful thrust. Molly cries out, the new angle allowing him to penetrate her even deeper. Elvis sets a ruthless pace, pounding into her relentlessly.

The sound of slapping flesh fills the air as he claims her, his fingers digging into her hips hard enough to leave bruises. He hits a spot deep inside that has Molly seeing stars. She pushes her hips back to meet his brutal thrusts, unable to get enough.

"That's right, take it," Elvis growls. His breathing is labored in her ear, hot and ragged. Sweat beads on his brow, dripping onto her shoulder blades, but he doesn’t relent. “You’re taking me so good. You love it, don’t you?”

She does. Oh, God, does she ever. Fuck it. If this was wrong, she didn’t want to be right. 

He keeps pounding into her, and it's dizzying and intoxicating all at once. The room spins as she clings to the headboard for dear life, his name a curse on her lips, a talisman against the building pleasure-pain coiling in her core. His pace quickens, hot breath on her neck, and his thick chest hair tickling her back.

“El… vis…” she mewls. “Right there!”

He obliges, his expert hands massaging her swollen clit as he pounds into her from behind. 

“Yeah, just like that,” he rasps as Molly bucks against him, working the length of his cock with her slick and pushing her hips back to meet his brutal thrusts, unable to get enough. It shocks him how quickly she took to his cock. Elvis’ fingers dig almost painfully into her hips, urging her on. “That’s right, take what you need.” 

"Elvis, I..."

The pressure builds, coiling in her belly like a spring. “That’s my girl, let it go,” he growls in her ear, and that’s all it takes.

Her body explodes into a million stars, tightening around him as she screams her release. Just like that, it hits her all at once—from heaven and hell itself, crashing over her like a tidal wave and even more powerful than the first. Colors dance behind her eyelids. 

Elvis’ nails dig into her back, and she can feel the delicious sting as they break the skin. “Unnngh,” he grunts, “I’m fuckin’ close.” The filthy words spur her on, and she clenches around him, the fluttering of her walls easing up, and suddenly she’s slowly floating back to earth and back to life and back to his gigantic bed in his gigantic mansion in Memphis, Tennessee. She can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but feel.

He growls and buries himself even deeper, his thrusts erratic and desperate now. Harder and harder until he, too, splinters apart, shattering inside her like stained glass. He grunts, his release warm and sticky deep inside her.

Later, Elvis cocoons Molly in his strong arms and starts to rock her gently. As she drifts off to sleep, she knows there's no going back.

She's his now, body and soul. That’s the price she paid for giving in to her darkest desire.

[aoioozora]

Mending Promises

Content: Keegan x F! Reader, Band AU, Civilian AU, second chances, exes to lovers, angst and fluff, happy ending Note: This idea has been marinating in my head for months now. I've never written an exes to lovers story before and I think I did quite well for my first attempt. Put my heart and soul into writing it. Enjoy :) [also why does K look so "🥺" in the gif]

The little puddles of rainwater on the cobbled streets squelched and splashed as you stepped over them. The dark night was clear and damp, filling the air with the light scent of petrichor, sizzling meats, and smoke which rose over the buildings and traffic into an incoherent yet delightful mixture. Flickering lamps passed by you as you walked, the puddles reflecting them.

Genevieve's. That was the place you stopped in front of. The red neon sign flickered and buzzed faintly as you pushed the worn bronze metal handle on the equally worn wooden door and stepped inside the establishment.

You were greeted by faint chatter of the dingy restaurant's patrons, all shrouded in dim darkness in contrast to the band up on the podium bathed in the yellow spotlight as they set up their mics on the stands and adjusted the drums. The lead singer stood out with the bright red Fender electric guitar hanging in front of him by the strap as he plugged the wire in. He raised his head for a moment, sweeping away his sweat-glistening black locks out of his eyes to scour through the dimly lit room as if in search of someone.

You felt an annoying tingle in your stomach as his eyes swept past you, unsure whether or not you were spotted by him. You sat at a table nearest to the door, just in case you wanted to run away from the performance midway. You took out your phone and opened a chat screen.

Keegan: I hope it isn't too much to ask you to see our performance. We may have fallen out, but your support is important to me.

And attached below was a digital flyer of the said performance that you were currently attending. It was sent a week ago, and you left him on read, one of the many messages and concert invitations you didn't want to reply to and didn't attend. Your eyes lingered on the second line of the message, and every single time you read it, it wrenched your heart and made your eyes burn with tears. And it did again as you raised your head to look at him, blinking your eyes rapidly.

Keegan's eyes softened with disappointment. There was nobody in this world he would play for if not you, and not seeing you there didn't make him standing in front of this small, faceless crowd worth it. Regardless, the little concert began.

He tapped the mic twice. "Testing, one, two, three," he spoke softly, and then began, "Good evening everyone, we're The Ghosts. We'll be singing our original songs and a few covers tonight. Enjoy."

The patrons in the restaurant gave the band their attention as he and his fellow bandmate, the lead guitarist, Logan, began to sing their indie rock song Claustrophobic together. Keegan's low, gruff, rumbling voice was singled out by you, and it was all you could hear.

The world's caving in without you, I can't breathe, I can't breathe.

You realised that this was one of their newest singles, as you hadn't heard it before. Resting your elbow on the table in front of you, your eye could see nobody but Keegan. You hated it, but you couldn't resist. Him standing in front of a small audience, head bent slightly over his red Fender, his black clothes, the lights shining over his glossy black hair, his foot tapping to keep time, it was all a familiar sight, but a distant one that you could only look at with sorrow.

Your reverie was interrupted by soft clapping from the audience as they ended their song. You felt a small hint of happiness that they were getting good reception. Even if you associated bad memories with their music, it was still good music. They began their next song, Penguins.

My love, you're all I see; I'll give you a rock When I get down on one knee, And forever in wedlock We will be.

A tight lump rose in your throat as you heard him sing those words from your favourite song. He'd croon the words in your ears at night to lull you to sleep in his arms, promising a future of togetherness, mates for life, just like penguins.

Only for it to all come crashing down.

A tear slipped down your cheek as you watched him sing the upbeat yet poignant song; his voice was full of emotion. He sang like he meant it, just like back then. The suppressed memories came flooding back to you as you stared at the floor with a distant gaze, of dancing with him in the living room, hearing his various renditions of the same song, even pretending to get down on one knee to make you giggle incessantly. But most of all, it was the look of utter adoration and awe in his normally dull steel blue eyes that sparkled like stars when he looked at you, like you were a goddess to him.

Why did it have to go all wrong?

You wiped away the stream of tears from your eyes and your cheeks, dabbing them with a handkerchief as you vainly sighed to get rid of the tightness in your chest.

And why, despite the months, did you feel like your love for him never diminished?

You listened to the next few songs distractedly. You couldn't help but wonder about the songs he chose; out of all the ones in their entire discography, he specifically chose the ones you loved, the songs that were most cherished, and held the most memories.

Your eyes fell upon the vacant ring finger of your right hand. There was a subtle indentation around the base of it, where a ring used to sit day in and day out. When you broke up with him, you took off that promise ring and threw it to the ground in front of him, and now your ring finger was forlorn, throbbing with a dull ache at the unpleasant memory you wished to banish from your thoughts.

"The last song for tonight is not our song, but our cover of Do I Wanna Know by Arctic Monkeys, which is our personal favourite. Enjoy."

His gruff voice pierced through the noisy recesses of your mind, bringing you back to the present. Was it the last song already? Time sure did fly when one was deep in thought.

And it was no unfamiliar song either. It was one you loved dearly.

The drums beat in time with your heart, and the famous riff of the guitar stunned the air into silence, leaving you to hear your pulsating heartbeat in your ears, reminding you why you loved this song so much. You heard him inhale, you saw him raise his eyes to scan the faceless crowd, and in his characteristic deep gruffness, he exhaled out his song,

Have you got colour in your cheeks?

You did now.

Do you ever get that fear that you can't shift the type That sticks around like summat in your teeth? Are there some aces up your sleeve? Have you no idea that you're in deep? His eyes looked searchingly, almost desperately around the room of the restaurant as he sang, I've dreamt about you nearly every night this week How many secrets can you keep? 'Cause there's this tune I found That makes me think of you somehow an' I play it on repeat Until I fall asleep, spillin' drinks on my settee

Almost as if he wanted you to know what he felt.

His fellow bandmate and guitarist, Logan, provided the backing vocals,

Do I wanna know?

And Keegan followed, still looking around,

If this feelin' flows both ways? Sad to see you go Was sorta hoping that you'd stay Baby, we both know That the nights were mainly made For sayin' things that you can't say tomorrow day

He took another deep breath, his fingers switching chords as quickly as his voice switched from sadness to desperation.

Crawling back to you

The guitar groaned over the amplifiers, filling you with a sense of anguish, like a rag being twisted. The rhythmic drumbeats forced the vision of Keegan approaching you in a slow, steady march, wanting, begging, groweling at your feet to play about in your mind's eye.

Ever thought of callin' when You've had a few? 'Cause I always do

Maybe I'm too Busy bein' yours To fall for somebody new Now I've thought it through Crawling back to you.

Those words hit you like a sack of bricks; they, along with the previous songs, only reinforced the fact that he still wanted you despite the falling away. A lump rose in your throat again.

He wanted you back, and so did you.

So have you got the guts?

He paused, allowing the drums to dictate the length of the silence for the space of four beats. He looked about searchingly again, trying to find you in the faceless crowd. In the dim, flickering light of an old jukebox next to your table, he spotted you. You raised your eyes and met his. A volcano of butterflies erupted in your stomach.

His eyes held yours fast as he sang,

Been wonderin' if your heart's still open And if so, I wanna know what time it shuts

He paused again for a quarter of a beat to let that sink in.

Simmer down an' pucker up, I'm sorry to interrupt

Those same pair of eyes narrowed slightly, momentarily averting his gaze towards his guitar, as if guiltily admitting, It's just I'm constantly on the cusp of tryin' to kiss you But I don't know if you feel the same as I do

He raised his head to meet your eyes again, a glint of hope evident in them despite the distance, But we could be together if you wanted to.

And there was the invitation.

You couldn't bear to stay there any longer. As he sang the bridge and the chorus, you stood up and hastily stepped out of the establishment, rubbing a stray tear off your cheek. Keegan saw it all. His chest seized. He nearly rose to his heels in readiness to run after you midway but he stopped himself, interpreting your departure as the rejection. But the tear he saw you wipe away; did he manage to get through your heart?

As soon as you were out of doors, you were hit by the rain. A fervent wind blew, splattering the heavy drops against you and the shade above your head that you took shelter under. No umbrella; the rain dead-ended you from leaving, and so you waited, holding yourself in your arms to keep warm, refusing to go back inside as his singing permeated the walls, tormenting you even over the noisy rain and howling wind.

The performance ended and the diners went back to chattering away while The Ghosts began to dismantle their equipment. While Keegan solemnly pulled off the strap of his guitar, his drummer, Hesh walked over to him.

"Did she come?" he asked in a whisper as he held Keegan by the shoulder.

"Saw her leave just now,"

Logan also joined in on the conversation as he unplugged the wire from his guitar. "And?" he asked, very obviously expecting something more.

"And what?"

"And are you just going to let her leave after this whole concert we planned just for her?" Logan rolled his eyes exasperatedly as he lectured Keegan, "Go and talk to her!"

Hesh turned to the windows of the establishment and saw the rain beating against the panes. He nudged Keegan. "It's raining pretty hard out there. She must not have left yet. Run!"

Keegan wasted no time in hurrying down the little podium, his heavy steps thudding against the hollow wood. He snatched his jacket and with quick, hasty steps and a rising hope in his chest, he opened the door, stepped out, and looked beside the door.

But you weren't there.

His shoulders sagged, his hand slipped from the worn door handle and fell to his side with disappointment. He was about to turn back inside when the sound of a quiet crunch of gravel under a boot on the asphalt not too far from him stopped him in his tracks. In the dim red light of the neon sign, he had to squint to see the shivering elbow sticking out from behind the wall. He inched closer and peeked into the narrow, dark alley, only to find what- or rather- who he was looking for.

You looked up when he poked his head in and felt your heart stop when you recognized who you were looking at. Both of your eyes widened.

"Wha- What are you doing here?" Keegan blurted, surprised but pleased to see you still around.

"You wanted me to come to your concert?" you said, raising a brow at him as you continued to shiver from the wind and rain.

"I mean, yeah, but..." he paused to take off his thickly lined leather jacket and draped it over your shoulders, "you're out here... in the cold. You could've just stayed inside."

You didn't object to his assistance and he had to hide the surprise from displaying on his face. While you thought of what to say, he nudged you aside with his shoulder, away from the elements and stood next to you by the wall to shield you. He waited in silence for an answer, but to no avail.

"I didn't think you'd come... especially after you left me on read," he began quietly, in a tone that carried no resentment, but sadness. He leaned against the wall and propping his foot up behind him as he crossed his arms.

You let out a sigh as you sunk your face into the fleece-lined collar of the jacket, taking in the familiar scent and feeling the familiar texture of leather and fleece against your arms and your cheeks. He'd always lend you his favourite jacket.

"I didn't want to come here, but I did anyway," you replied.

"You didn't have to force yourself." He shrugged and turned his head away from you to watch the rain pattering noisily on the sidewalk.

"I didn't. I was... kinda drawn here."

Drawn here, he thought, feeling a flutter. "What drew you here?"

A pause. "You."

His jaw laxed and his fingers twitched. His crossed arms loosened and his arm fell to his side, letting his knuckles lightly brush against yours. The brief contact sent a shock blitzing through your fingers, stiffening your hand for a moment. You inhaled sharply, feeling a vortex churning in your stomach; you didn't know you missed and craved his touch so much.

"It means a lot to me that you came," he whispered, letting his hand linger next to yours.

"Why?" A tremor shook your voice. He grimaced.

"I..." he exhaled, "I know I was an asshole to you. I put my band before you and neglected you. I made you sad..." he sighed, his features wincing, "to the point that you left. And I don't blame you for it."

Your throat tightened and burned like a fiery noose had been tied around it. Your thoughts took you back to the past months, remembering how the two of you argued over his preference to spend time making music with Hesh and Logan. Every day was an uphill battle, fighting a tight competition with his band, until you were spread way too thin that you snapped. He was furious when you left, but didn't stop you, calling it a "good riddance", words which left a deep scar that refused to heal.

He continued, "When I told Hesh and Logan you left and explained to them why, they were pissed. Logan was ready to throw hands at me. I was confused until Logan sat me down and told me that nobody and nothing comes before your partner." He shook his head, sighing again. "It was so obvious, but I missed it. I was so stupid!"

He paused his speech for a brief moment to let you have a say. Knowing that you needed time to let his words settle in, he pushed back against his impatience and stayed silent.

You knew Hesh and Logan only a little, but you didn't expect them to stick up for you and scold Keegan about his behaviour. And you had harboured such a boiling resentment for them too. That feeling now started to simmer down into shame and regret.

When he saw that you weren't saying anything, he decided to continue.

"I missed you," he confessed, fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt. "I hoped and prayed you'd come today and you came. You've never come to any of our little concerts after our breakup except for this one. Can I take this as a sign that…" he drew in a shaky breath, "can I be bold and assume that you miss me too?"

The metaphorical noose tightened around your neck, forcing tears to brim over your waterline. You choked out the words, "You have the audacity to miss me especially after saying "good riddance" when I broke up with you."

Keegan drew in a sharp breath as his brows furrowed. "I was stupid to say those words to you, stupid and blind. I didn't value you enough. I can't believe it had to take me Logan and Hesh to drill into my head the weight of what I had thrown away."

You heard the regret in his voice, but it didn't yet move you. A sob choked your throat. "I loved your music, Keegan, but when you started to love your band more, I hated it. I hated your band, you, your guitar, Hesh, Logan, and your songs… I hated it all."

Keegan felt his heart squeeze painfully at your sobs and complaints. He had no right to blame you for it. "I understand…" he spoke, letting out a slow exhale over the howling wind, "I know that me giving more attention to my band has given you a sour taste in your mouth for my music," his fingers brushed against yours and wrapped around your hand gently, "but this concert was just for you. I sang all your favourite songs tonight…" he gave your hand a squeeze, "because I love you."

You felt your heart skip a beat.

"I wrote those songs for you, I sing them for you…" his thumb gently rubbed against the back of your hand, "Even after you left, I couldn't stop thinking of you. I couldn't stop loving you."

He paused, giving you a chance to speak. In the brief silence, he noticed how you haven't pulled your hand out of his very gentle grasp when you easily could. He held on to this ray of hope that you were receptive to his words, though understandably hesitant.

"I know a lot of guys go back to their exes and beg them for another chance, but you know me, I've never done that to my exes. You're the only one I've come back to, and that's only because I genuinely feel like we're connected somehow… I can't explain it."

You understood what he meant. You felt the same way too. You weren't the type to look back once you ended a relationship, but when it came to Keegan, he never left your thoughts, which was why you remained rooted in place, letting him hold your hand.

"I want you back, ____," he finally said, "I'm sorry for not valuing you like I should have. This entire concert was my apology for you. I know this is too much to ask for. I know I've broken your trust and hurt you, but I want to correct that mistake and make amends." He paused, "Once chance is all I need. I'll do whatever it takes."

You sniffled, feeling the first tear roll down your cheek, your body trembling as you frantically tried to wipe the stream away. Keegan's heart wrenched at the sight; he took a bold step in wrapping you in his arms and bringing you against his chest. He breathed heavily, wondering if you would push him away, but to his surprise, you leaned into his embrace.

"Why was it a good riddance when I left?" you squeaked out against his chest.

His chest twinged painfully when you brought it up again, now understanding how deeply those words had hurt you. "I was crazy," he said, chastising himself, "I was stupid and blinded by my anger. I thought you didn't understand my love for music and my band, but I was the one who didn't understand what you needed. It never was a good riddance, darling. I missed you every second you were not in my life." He squeezed you gently, both to comfort you, and for him to cling to you.

Your sobs grew louder; you were both pained and relieved at the same time.

"You're an angel… and I don't deserve you," he murmured, feeling a sob choke his own throat, "I know I'm being selfish but I love you… I want you back."

You let out a weary groan as you leaned further against him. His arms instinctively tightened around you.

"I'm sorry…" you said, raising your hands a little to clutch his t-shirt, "For throwing the ring at you that day."

He hugged you tighter. "I forgive you," he whispered immediately, feeling lighter and relieved that you apologised for your own crime, one that had hurt him.

You squeezed him, and he soothingly rubbed his hand against your back, enjoying the warmth that he missed dearly. But he pulled away slightly and shoved his hand in his pocket, bringing out a small, silver ring.

Your eyes widened slightly. It was the promise ring he had given you. You looked at him, eyes welling with tears again. "You still have it," you murmured shakily.

He looked at the dainty piece of jewelry and sighed, smiling a hint. "I was so mad at you that day that I threw it in the trash, but when I calmed down, I dug it back out and cleaned it up. I kept it because it reminded me of you…" his voice trailed off and then gingerly extended his hand out to you.

You placed your hand in his gently. At the contact, his body flushed with warmth.

With a shaky breath and voice, he said, looping the ring through your ring finger, as tears slipped down his cheeks, "I promise I'll love you more than anything in this world, even myself."

You sniffled and sobbed as you saw the ring fit right in the indentation on your finger like two jigsaw puzzle pieces fit together, the familiar sight of it sending waves of warmth in your heart. Keegan watched your emotional reaction, and he pulled you in his arms again to comfort you.

"I love you, ____. I'll make it up to you a hundred times over..." he stroked your hair softly, voice brimming over with determination and affection.

You buried your face in his chest, his words wrenching more tears out of your eyes. "Do you promise?"

"Wholeheartedly, I promise."

---

More Keegan:

Attracted

Cat Got Your Tongue

---

Masterlist

[queenshelby]

Forbidden Desire (Part 13)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader (Female/Incestuous)

Warnings: Incest (at this stage accidental), Age Gap, PTSD, Domestic Abuse, Self-Harm, Fluff, Smut

Please comment and engage xx 😘

Late at night, after the sun had dipped below the horizon, casting an eerie glow across the sky, you slipped out of the townhouse you now shared with your mother in Birmingham, which your father had bought for you. Your heart raced as you navigated through the dark streets, headed towards Liam's secret hideout.

Echoes of laughter and music drifted through the air, drawing you closer to the source. The sounds of revelry made your pulse quicken as you neared the entrance of a dimly lit pub.

Its wooden door swung open with a creak, revealing a dimly lit interior where patrons clad in colourful garb danced and sang to the lively melodies of traditional Irish tunes. Liam greeted you with a broad smile, his armoured vest and sleek trousers accentuating his muscular build. As you entered the establishment, your eyes met his, and the intensity of your attraction grew stronger.

Liam's gaze bore into yours, conveying a mix of hunger and longing that sent shivers down your spine. The scent of whiskey and sweat mingled with the rich odour of cigarette smoke permeated the air, creating an atmosphere that seemed to envelop you in its thick embrace. You found yourself drawn to Liam as if under a spell, compelled to follow him deeper into the labyrinth of the pub.

Each step you took echoed against the wooden floorboards, causing you to feel increasingly disoriented.

Despite your growing unease, you could not tear your eyes away from Liam's mesmerising figure. He led you through the crowd, weaving effortlessly through the press of bodies as they swayed to the rhythm of the live music.

The room gradually transformed, becoming more private and intimate as you progressed. The smell of alcohol, leather, and humanity intensified, leaving your senses reeling with excitement.

As you continued to follow Liam, his arm brushing against yours ever so subtly, sending shockwaves of desire coursing through your body.

In the depths of the pub, Liam guided you toward a small, secluded corner. Surrounded by velvet drapes, this area exuded an air of exclusivity, allowing you to feel sheltered from the chaos of the crowded room. Liam's hand grazed your shoulder, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"We need to be careful, Liam," you reminded him, wanting to keep the fact that you were dating a secret from your family.

The last thing you needed was rumours spreading about your romantic interests, getting to either your father or Tommy. 

"Don't worry, love," Liam replied confidently, drawing you closer with his powerful arms.

"Our time together will remain our little secret. Nobody needs to know about us except for you and me." His tender kisses along your neck heightened your arousal, causing you to lose control of your breathing.

His lips trailed down your neck, slowly working their way back up, eventually reaching your own.

His touch sent electric currents surging through your body, making you feel weak and yearning for more. Your heart raced, pounding fiercely in your chest, as his tongue lightly grazed your lips, seeking entry.

As you opened your mouth to grant him access, you felt a wave of apprehension wash over you, and you, again, remembered the intimacy you had shared with Tommy. 

Kissing Liam was not quite the same and even though you had been dating for almost three weeks now, you still had not slept with each other.

The thought of doing so terrified you. You did not know what he would do when he got to the point of having sex. It was all new territory for you, and you were still learning how to navigate it since the only man you ever slept with was your very own uncle.

"Slow down," you thus said to Liam, hoping he would understand your hesitation. His face hardened, and you saw his determination rise.

"Just give me a chance," he pleaded, his hands now cupping your face gently.

"If you trust me, let me prove myself worthy of your trust," he begged, but you felt somewhat uncomfortable still.

It was as if you could not fully surrender yourself to him. There was something holding you back, and you were not sure whether it was fear or just plain resistance.

"I am sorry Liam; I am not good with this. Intimacy scares me and I am just not ready yet," you admitted honestly as your heart ached at the thought of disappointing him, yet you could not bring yourself to push past your boundaries. 

"Who would have thought that a member of the Shelby Family can be so prude, huh?" Liam sighed disappointedly, looking away from you. "You don't know what you're missing out on," he added, trying to tempt you further.

But you held firm, standing your ground, determined not to let him pressure you into doing something you were not comfortable with.

"You should focus on proving yourself worthy of my trust in other ways," you suggested, attempting to ease the tension since you were aware that Liam knew that you did not fully trust him just yet. "Besides, we don't need to rush things," you explained. 

Liam's eyes narrowed in frustration, clearly unhappy with your decision.

"Alright, alright," he finally relented, seemingly resigned to respecting your wishes. "We'll take it slow. Just remember, this does not mean we're not exclusive. If anyone else tries to pursue you, I will not stand for it," he said as his tone conveyed a sense of possessiveness.

Awkward silence settled between you two as you navigated the aftermath of your disagreement.

Liam's expression remained tense, his jaw tightening as he fought against the urge to argue further. Recognizing his displeasure, you decided to attempt a change of subject but, before you could do so, Polly came walking into the room.

Her eyes immediately widened upon seeing the two of you, and her demeaner shifted from relaxed to alert in an instant. 

"What's going on here?" she demanded, her voice edged with concern.

Feeling cornered, you glanced at Liam, who responded by stepping protectively between you both.

"Nothing's happening," he lied smoothly, his tone suggesting otherwise. "We were just catching up."

Polly eyed both of you suspiciously, but the moment passed without incident.

"Well, whatever it is, just remember Y/N, you are a Shelby now," she admonished before turning towards Liam.

"As for Liam O'Connor, you should know your place," Polly lectured him harshly, drawing disapproving looks from you.

"Polly, please. That is not necessary. We were just talking," you told her, knowing full well that her interference was not helping matters. 

Polly's brow furrowed, her expression filled with scepticism. Her eyes flickered between you and Liam, weighing the honesty of your words. After a moment of deliberation, she appeared to accept your explanation, nodding curtly before turning to leave.

***

Unbeknownst to you, the following day, at the offices of Shelby Company Limited, Polly brought what she had witnessed to Tommy's attention.

"Tommy," she began as she barged into his office. "We need to talk," she stated bluntly, her tone serious. Tommy looked up from his desk, instantly recognising the urgency in Polly's tone.

"What is it?" he asked, setting aside his work as he rose from his chair. Polly hesitated for a moment, gathering her thoughts before continuing.

"You will not like this, Tommy," Polly said, choosing her words carefully. "But, last night, I caught Y/N in the middle of a conversation with Liam O'Connor. They appeared close, too close for my liking," Polly pointed out, causing Tommy to sigh. 

Tommy's face contorted into a mask of anger, his eyes darkening with jealousy. 

"Are you saying that one of my men is involved with my fucking niece?" he snapped, his eyes blazing with rage. Polly nodded grimly, confirming his worst fears. "How long?" Tommy asked sharply, his jaw clenching in anger.

"Since her birthday, I think. They must have met that night at your house," Polly answered, struggling to find the right words to explain the situation. 

Tommy's grip on the edge of his desk tightened, his knuckles whitening as his grip intensified.

"Do you think they're sleeping together?" he questioned, his voice hoarse with barely contained fury. "Because if he does as much as lay a fucking hand on her, I will kill him, eh" Tommy warned, his face flushed with rage.

"Oh god, Tommy, enough with the jealousy already," Polly said, trying to calm him down but Tommy was beyond reason now. All he could see was the image of his beloved niece wrapped around another man, his mind racing with jealous thoughts.

"Don't you dare talk to me about jealousy, Pol," Tommy retorted angrily, his eyes flashing with a mixture of hurt and anger. "I am not fucking jealous," Tommy argued defensively, trying to convince himself more than Polly. "But I am cautious, eh? She is family after all," he added under his breath, unable to suppress his rage.

"Look, Tommy," Polly began, trying to reason with him. "I did not come here to tell on her. For all I care, she is a grown woman who can do whatever she wants...," Polly then began to say, trying to get to the point, but Tommy interrupted her again. 

"That bastard, he doesn't deserve her, Pol!" Tommy said, the heat in his eyes betraying his jealousy, making it clear to Polly that she had struck a nerve. 

"That's not the point, Thomas," Polly retorted calmly, trying to reason with him despite his temperament. "Now, would you please let me finish talking?" she asked, seeing that he had interrupted her several times by now, unable to deal with his growing jealousy. 

"Yes," Tommy muttered darkly, his fingers fidgeting. "Speak," he commanded, his voice cold and detached.

"The reason I came here to even tell you about this is because I have a bad feeling about Liam. I always did, but usually, I would not interfere in your affairs, and I know that you put him in charge of fixing your races," Polly explained. "I cannot shake this nagging sensation that there is something wrong with him. He is hiding something," she warned, and Tommy, his face unreadable, remained silent, taking in Polly's words.

It was clear that he was weighing her concerns, considering them seriously.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and controlled. "So, you believe that Liam might be trouble, eh? And why exactly would you think that?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Polly hesitated, collecting her thoughts once more.

"I may not have concrete evidence, but I have a feeling that Liam isn't who he seems to be. He has been seen with a few unsavoury characters recently, and some whispers suggest that he might be involved in some activities that could interfere with your own," she revealed slowly, her eyes locked with Tommy's intense gaze.

Tommy's eyes narrowed slightly, a frown marring his features. His brain raced through various scenarios, analysing the potential consequences of Polly's claims. The fact that Liam had connections to unsavoury characters did not necessarily mean he was involved in activities that go against the interest of Shelby Company Limited, but it certainly raised suspicion.

"So, I should keep an eye on him, eh?" Tommy mused, deep in thought. His expression hardened; his eyes gleaming with determination. 

Polly nodded in agreement, grateful that Tommy was willing to listen to her concerns. "Yes, you should keep an eye on him, and you should also keep an eye on Y/N. She could be in danger," she affirmed, her voice strong and confident. 

"Trust me Pol, I will put an end to their interactions right fucking now," Tommy spat, calling for Arthur, but Polly intervened.

"Do you think that, telling Arthur about this, is the wise thing to do?" Polly asked, her voice low and cautious. 

"You are right. I need to handle this myself," Tommy acknowledged, but Polly pointed out that if he were to intervene directly, disallowing you to see Liam again, this would likely backfire on them all.

"So, you want me to watch on and do nothing while this fucker makes a move on my fucking niece?" Tommy questioned with a dangerous glint in his eyes. 

"Yes, but get your trusted men to watch them both. You should also act cautiously around Liam and give him some space to find out what it is that he wants, Tommy," Polly advised, her eyes earnest and determined. "Let us not jump to conclusions yet. It is better to know our enemy first,” she said, and Tommy considered her advice, his eyes narrowing in thought.

"Alright, Pol, I will sit back and observe," he promised solemnly, his resolve evident in his eyes.

Polly nodded understandingly, knowing how deeply Tommy cared for you.

"Good," she told him, her voice gentle and reassuring before bringing up some other matters, including Lizzie's pregnancy and the upcoming elections where Tommy was in the run for the Labour Party.

Polly pointed out to Tommy that, by now, Lizzie was showing. Most people knew that Tommy was the father of the child, and, as such, Polly considered it to be wise if Tommy was to marry her. 

Polly understood that Tommy cared deeply for you, but she also knew that he needed a wife - someone to solidify his position for the upcoming elections.

Tommy's brow furrowed at Polly's suggestion, his mind spinning with the implications of what Polly had told him to do. While he was aware of the political benefits of marrying Lizzie, he could not help but feel uneasy about the idea. His feelings for you were complicated, to say the least, and marrying Lizzie would only complicate his personal life further. 

But as he mulled over Polly's suggestion, he realised that the stakes were high. With the upcoming elections, it was crucial for him to secure his position and gain public support. Marrying Lizzie could accomplish both goals while simultaneously shielding you from his desires for you. It would make things clear. It seemed like a strategic move, albeit an emotionally painful one.

His heart ached at the thought of losing you completely, of no longer having you in his life, though he knew that, ultimately, it was for the best.

"I will think about Pol," he said finally, a slight quiver in his voice betraying his conflicted emotions. Polly looked at him with concern, understanding the weight of his decision the depth of his feelings for you.

"Just remember, Tommy, you cannot have the woman you are in love with. She is your niece," Polly reminded him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. Tommy's eyes met hers gratefully, and he sighed.

"You're right," he acknowledged before telling Polly that he had other business matters to attend to.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

✶ Pendulum ✶

✶ Pairing: model!hyunjin x model!chubby!fem!reader

✶ Genre: fluff, angst, smut

✶ Summary: You visit Hyunjin on the night of his big art exhibit intent on closing this chapter of your life but he's not willing to let go that easily.

✶ Word Count: 1.2k-ish

✶ Warnings: Hyunjin's a lil bit possessive, fingering, nibbling, marking, and that's about it my loves

✶ A/N: This is part two of a Hyunjin/Minho love triangle fic that has come to emotionally wreck me but I love it and fingers crossed you will too! 🖤 part three is here 🖤

It’s been three weeks since Paris Fashion Week. Three weeks since you fell in love with Minho. Three weeks of falling asleep on FaceTime and sneaking little moments in with each other between your busy schedules. There was no way to anticipate that you’d come to mean this much to each other, your feelings deepening as the days go on.

Saying yes to that date with Minho opened the door to a new way of being cherished that only he can offer. But there remains a thread tied to the corner of your heart, tugging you back to your past. If you’re to step through the door that lies before you, you must first shut the one that lies behind...

And that’s what brings you here...

to an upscale art gallery a half hour before Hyunjin’s first exhibit. Crisp autumn leaves dance along the pavement, a ballet of deep reds and vibrant yellows, as you flee the chilly night air for the warmth of the sleek, rustic gallery. Matte black walls combine with polished cherry wood accents to give you the sense that you’re somewhere you can be comfortable. But not too comfortable.

You can already smell his cologne, cedar and spice, coasting through the air to greet you before he appears at the top of the stairs to your left. “You came,” he says, feigning indifference as he takes his time descending the stairs. After he broke your heart you insisted that he no longer held any power over you. The spell had been broken, or so you thought. So you hoped. But no such thing is true.

Hyunjin moves like a gazelle, his limbs long and graceful. He somehow manages to make the simple act of walking feel like a performance art piece. Tonight he’s pulled his hair back into a high ponytail, a few delicate strands left hanging to frame his now smiling face. Standing before you, he extends an arm, his hand patiently at your service. You slip out of your jacket, tossing it over his arm.

“Well, you said you wanted to talk so I’m here.” Hyunjin laughs, finding amusement in the way you’ve turned the tables. Pretending not to care when you both know you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t. “I was going to take your hand—” he starts, his gaze trailing behind you as you journey deeper into the gallery.

You always thought it a shame that people could never seem to get past his physical appearance long enough to see what’s truly special about him. Surrounded by his art, drawings and paintings he’d once only been brave enough to reveal to you, you can’t help but feel proud of him. “Hwang Hyunjin, jack of all trades” you sigh, stopping to get a closer look at a watercolor painting of butterflies whose wings seemingly melt down the canvas.

Hyunjin joins you, ignoring the painting to admire your silk black dress.

“Jack of all trades, master of none, but I’m still, I guess, better than a master of one.”

“Mmm, I don’t know about that. What’s so bad about a master of one? Maybe the master of one just knows where his heart is.”

The back of his hand strokes your arm, sending an electric current through your body. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice that he’s moved closer. Close enough for the sensation of his breath on your neck to give you shivers when he asks, “Where’s yours?” “Where’s my what?” Your head snaps toward him, the accusatory tone of his voice triggering your defenses.

“Your heart. Do you know where it is?” 

“You have no right to ask me that. Not when you broke it.” Every fiber of your being is telling you to run away and Hyunjin must sense it because his arms are around you before you can make your grand escape. “Don’t run from me” he pleads, “Just tell me what I can do to fix it.” You’ve never seen Hyunjin cry before but the moisture pooling in the corners of his eyes is a sure sign that you might.

Nothing can erase the pain that he made you feel yet you can’t deny what he’s done since to ease it. Showing up to Paris Fashion Week alone, refusing to arrive with any woman who wasn't you. Admitting where he went wrong when it came to being honest with you. Apologizing in every language he knows and in a few he doesn't. Professing his love for you openly among your social circle without a care for how sensitive they may think he is.

He’s stepped so far outside of his character that occasionally you had to pinch yourself to make sure his efforts weren’t all in your head. To ask more of him feels almost sadistic. “It’s not you” you admit, lifting some of the pressure from his shoulders, “I’m just, I don’t know. Afraid?”

“Afraid? Of what?”

“Of the piece of my heart that’s still here with you.” You love him still. And you can’t outrun it any more than you could the way your heart ached for Minho when he first touched your hand, comforting you before the red carpet all those nights ago. You hate yourself for it, wishing that you could make these feelings disappear, all the while surrendering to Hyunjin’s kiss.

He sweeps you into it without warning, no longer able to control the need to feel your tongue against his. Kissing him is that first bite of your favorite food after you’ve been deprived of it for far too long. Your senses are aflame, moisture creeping between your thighs as he presses your back to the wall. Hyunjin buries his face between your breasts, his tongue lashing and nibbling as they rise and fall with each bated breath you take.

Your fingers tangle with his hair, the tie that keeps his ponytail secure quickly slipping to the floor. “You have to be mine again,” he says, not asking but telling. Demanding. He raises one of your legs to straddle his hip, pushing a hand between you to knead your pillow soft thighs. “He can’t have you. I won’t let him.” Hyunjin kisses you all over, suckling at your sensitive skin to mark his territory.

Pushing his hips further between your legs, he teases the wetness of your panties, your clit already stiff enough to feel through the thin cotton. “Hyunjin, please—” you beg, not quite knowing what you’re begging for. Less? More? The arch of your back as his fingers dive into your core decides it’s ‘more’. He pulls back, his free hand reaching up to cup your cheek, “Say my name again.”

His fingers pick up speed, your walls spasming with each unforgiving twist of his wrist. “Hyunjin” you whine, gripping his shoulders to keep yourself from crumbling to the ground. He missed seeing you this way. Dressed up all pretty, lipstick smeared across your face, moaning his name. Your juices stream down his wrist, leaving tiny drops of your arousal on his sleeve. He welcomes it. Welcomes anything that’ll leave your scent behind for later. “Mine. Always mine” he repeats, circling your clit with his thumb. 

You should’ve never come here. You should’ve stayed as far away from this man as possible. But there’s no use crying over spilled milk. The reality is that you didn’t stay away. Hyunjin called and you came now you’re coming around his fingers, allowing yourself to be claimed once more by the lust filled demons of your past. And, oh, what a glorious one he is.

[deblklesb]

[I Want You So Bad — Ellie x Reader, Pt. 2]

[AFAB!reader, friends to lovers, fluff, MDNI]

Summary: Maybe there's something in your head that Ellie doesn't know.

a/n: so here's the part 2!!! i hope y'all enjoyed it! read part 1 here!

cw: fluff, mutual pining.

not proof read | reblogs are highly appreciated

The sunrays reaching for Ellie’s face while she helped pick up piles of hay, to organize it inside the barn, should be one of the most gorgeous things you’ve ever seen. The little tones on her skin changed as she moved, the blush spreading due to the time under the sunlight, some hair strands sticking on her forehead due to the sweat. You had to audibly sigh to take yourself out from that trance, obliging the part inside of your chest to let go and keep walking towards the Tipsy Bison. And as you did, it was like the air was taken away from your lungs.

For the past month you’ve been having those different thoughts about Ellie, your friend. Thoughts that you didn’t know if you should even say loudly, because it seemed wrong and unpalatable in some outsider way.

Sometimes you’d stare at her when she was at the bar, and then end up looking around to make sure no one caught the silent moment. Ellie herself didn’t seem to realize it, and it was a miracle, considering how much you were fixated on her.

You’ve never had many friends growing up, the chaos where you were born hasn't allowed you to do so. You knew some kids on the QZ, but none of them were that close despite being nice - your mom used to say that, no matter in what situation, kids still were able to try and make something with what was available, and that was probably what you and the others did for some time. Then you got older and the only school was FEDRA’s, and the competitive environment made everything worse for those who didn’t had stronger bonds like you.

You ran away soon after your parents died, looking for a place smugglers talked about here and there; a town called Jackson that even had electricity. It was hard enough, but you made it after a little more than a year. The first thing you thought about when you got your house in the new community was your parents, and how they'd like there.

Dina, Jesse and Ellie became your friends casually, and you truly didn’t expect to be so attached to them as you were. But the way the three welcomed you in their lives and made you feel less alone, it was priceless. Jesse’s mom even treated you like her relative, baked you some nice treats on your birthdays too. So those were some of the most precious people in the whole fucking world to you.

And for some reason, you thought they would disapprove of your current thoughts about Ellie.

How a weird tingle occupied the tip of your fingers when you reached to fix her hair strands, and the newfound flutter on your chest when you hugged her. It all felt so different and exciting, so much you couldn’t help but hold her for some more seconds or touch her hair all the time when she was around, even if there was nothing to fix. And you would feel warm when she smiled, like being under the sun on a spring day, laying on the grass to feel the wind on your face; it was comfortable like that.

Two weeks before, you made her a little paper bouquet when you were looking into Jackson’s small and common library and found a handicraft magazine. But then you felt like giving her in person would be so awkward, so you put it on her pouch for her to find it when she left in the morning.

Entering the Tipsy Bison, you greeted the people hanging out there and got on the other side of the counter. Seth was probably doing something in the pantry while you fixed yourself, or that’s what you thought for some minutes. But then a woman your age came out of there, dark skin and braids on her hair, a friendly smile when seeing you.

“I didn’t think you had a shift today. Am I supposed to be here?” You smiled back at Dana while asking.

“Yeah! Seth wasn’t feeling good today, so he asked some people to cover. Jhonatan just left”

It was no big deal, and you both handled the place just fine. As the day ended, more people started to come to take a drink or just hang out at the bar, and a shy part of you hoped Ellie would soon enter through the door - you usually hoped, but these last days it was a different hope.

“Can you get more peanuts in the pantry?" Dana was cleaning the counter and ready to serve another customer.

"Sure!"

The peanut pot wasn't heavy at this point, soon the new harvest would come to fill it again. Seth has had a peanut plantation in his backyard since he started running the bar, at least that's what he says. A good bar must have good beers and peanuts, it's his motivation behind it. Now, the beer was a little bit more complicated but gradually was arranged, despite a lot of people drinking small doses of hot beverages due to its surviving the time - or just because they themselves could make it and it could equally last longer.

Taking the pot outside and closing the door with your foot, you walked distant from the cups behind the counter until reaching the front counter again. And when your eyes caught the person standing there on the other side, you almost dropped the pot.

It wasn't totally sweet and warm, though. Cause there she was, skin a little more tanned and arms out of the tank top, freckles visible along her whole body. The hair was on a half-bun now and you could swear your knees were buckling. She was smiling at Dana and talking with her, and that's what got you weirdly off guard. The game from the last sleepover crossed your mind immediately.

She said it wasn't Dana. So you should trust her word on that.

But why the hell did you care? And why, for some God forsaken reason, your chest tightened and you wanted to disappear, a bitterness spreading on your throat? Why does your head start to whisper nonsense, like a white noise, just to fill the sudden silence of your coherent thoughts?

The white noise is soon replaced by the ambient noise all around you, at the bar, when Dina calls your name and you have to snap out of it. Your eyes reluctantly deviated from the pair talking, and your other friend was your main focus now.

"Hey…!" You smiled the best you could, approaching the counter to place the pot under it. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, I was just helping with the supply storage today. Tomorrow I'll go on a patrol", you nodded, trying to pay attention to her and somehow capture anything from the pair's conversation next to you both, at the same time - having no success at the second task. "How about you?"

"I'm fine! Doing great!" Dina didn't buy it, but decided to accept your fake demeanor for now. "What are you getting?"

"Just some beer, I guess. Ellie, do you know about Jesse?"

Your attention came back to Ellie, realizing Dana wasn't there anymore. Just Ellie and her pretty eyes, a simple shrug. When she looked at you, you smiled and tried not to give in too much. Tried to just be friendly as always.

"Didn't know you were trying to get tanned", you smirked, playfully pushing her shoulder.

"Well, y'know, the sun needs to have some benefits", she smiled back, acting nonchalant about your comment. "Besides, I heard it attracts the ladies"

"And who said that?!" Dina chuckled.

"Well… Joel. And Tommy"

"And you're taking their words?"

"They might have a point", you blurted out, regretting immediately. When they both stayed silent, you tried to convince yourself they didn't listen to it, but Ellie's confused look and Dina's expression told otherwise.

"What, Ellie's tan is attracting you?" Dina had to say it, right? She could've kept that thought, but obviously saying it was better. Sure.

"Maybe", you shrug, trying to get out of this better than you actually were.

But the look you gave Ellie, from head to toes, taking in the way a mark on her skin was visible under the shirt strap and the blush on her face, the slightly wet hair on her forehead and nape, the exposed flesh between the hem of her shirt and the pants; it probably gave in entirely.

And you didn't know how to act about it, about the fact that you just shamelessly stared at her in front of a third person that could probably understand everything better than you, just by looking from outside.

Before someone could comment on this shit, Dana called your name and Jesse passed through the front door. That was your cue, and you took it.

"What the fuck did just happened?" Dina whispered to Ellie as you walked away.

Ellie's knees were buckling, and Jesse didn't understand the situation when he approached them. Her face was burning, the obvious blush spreading to her ears and neck. Her mind was on a rampage, repeating that moment as the questions twisted and turned around it, like flying things around the eye of a hurricane. Your sweet voice filling her senses, your lingering stare, the initial smirk.

"What's up, guys", Jesse rested an elbow on the counter. "What we're doing?"

"I'm going home", Ellie stepped away and through the people between her and the door, leaving behind the place that carried too many of her secret thoughts, the scenario to the beautiful scenes of you simply working.

Her body was vibrating, like that one time she got an electric current accidentally.

Did you just say you were attracted to her? Did she hear it right? Was her mind creating a new reality at this point?

"What happened?" Jesse looked baffled between the door throughout Ellie just left and Dina.

"I think we're gonna have to give these two a little push" was her answer, seemingly impatient.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Later that night, laying on her bed with a CD player running next to her, Ellie kept going back to that moment. She wondered what you really meant.

The warm light of her lampshade casted shadows on the walls and ground, reaching as far as it could before giving in to the darkness of the rest of the room. Just enough of it in order to not leave the auburn haired woman lost in her own house. Although she knew exactly what was in the room, the current illumination gave in a sense of distance and isolation from the rest of the world. And it was good, because she felt less pressured about what and how to think.

As much as she tried, she couldn't stop listening to her own heartbeats stronger than ever, while her eyes runned around the place to catch something, anything, still unknown. The memory of your eyes taking in her image after working outside for hours, Ellie could let herself be pulled inside your mind happily.

Should she do something about this? The main reason why Ellie never made a move was your oblivious way, but now things might have changed. Well, you didn't seem to notice her feelings, but there was an uncommon behavior going on. Definitely a shift in the moment, starting by the way you were looking at her so attentively. Ellie almost let herself be taken away by your constantly gorgeous figure, but that shift stopped her. She was so used to admiring you from afar, to try and hardly piece together the details she couldn't really see, that it was overwhelming to have you approaching her on a middle ground.

But then, what would she do? What was the appropriate response to this?

She could go on and on about this thought forever, if it wasn't for a knock on her door. Fixing her baggy shorts and the sweater, she stumbles on the small table in the middle of the room before finally reaching the front, opening it.

You're standing there, messy hair and heavy breaths, looking like you were running for your life.

"What happened?" Ellie starts to get worried, genuinely thinking something might have happened that led you there in such a hurry.

Resting your hand on your knees, you show her a finger to ask for a moment. Gasping repeatedly, heart beating fast and hard against your chest. The auburn haired girl just looks at you, concerned and unsure, until you finally speak your mind.

"Do you like me?" You burst out, now supporting your weight on the wall next to the door.

You watch as Ellie's face metamorphoses itself into a bunch of expressions in a minute, finishing with her eyes wide and mouth slacked.

So many questions roam through her mind, not a single one being in the center for some time. Then, all she can think is how the fuck do you know.

"How… What… How-"

"Do you, Ellie?" you moisten your lips, searching for an answer before doing any other thing there.

You need something, anything to ease the anxiety creeping on your mind right now. Your hands are clammy and you just wanna… You want to touch her so bad. To pull her close and feel her body pressing yours. But you won't do it before her answer.

"Because, honestly… I've been a mess for the past month, and I can't get you out of my mind. And if you feel this too, if you feel something close to that, I really need you to tell me right now", the desire is to tell her all the thoughts and dreams, the imageries that put butterflies on your stomach, the feelings morphing in scenarios that, now, had a chance to not stay in the fantasy realm anymore. "Please, say something. Anything. I truly need you to-"

Her lips cut your speech, crashing into yours as she pulls you by your shirt. It's like all the air leaves your lungs as her hands hold your hips and you support yourself on her. Your fingers intertwined with her hair, her lips taste so good. Her scent fills your senses as the warmth of her body and clothes envelope you in the most amazing zone possible.

It's like flying. It feels so incredibly insane that your body suddenly just exists. You don't need to think when her lips are there, catching yours, fitting on yours, and her tongue tastes you as she pushes it inside your mouth.

The night could've run away, it wouldn't matter. The whole world could fall apart, and you would be there with her.

"How the fuck did you find out?" Ellie's voice comes in a whisper as she receives your pecks around her face, as soon as the kiss is broken.

"Honestly, I should've noticed sooner", you chuckle, holding her face between your hands. She looks so amazed and aerial. "But Dina and Jesse kinda helped me. After I literally said you're attractive in the bar"

"So it wasn't something in my head…!"

"No, sweetie" She smiles while you kiss her cheek and chin over and over.

"So… you find me attractive?" Ellie smirks, pushing her head back to better look at your face.

You can't hide the smile under her gaze, looking away just to nod and shrug. "Yeah, silly. I do"

"Oh my God, you're so into me…!" She teases you, pinching the sides of your body.

"And you're into me!" You push her shoulder as she rolls the green eyes.

"It's just a detail. Not like I've been crushing on you since you got here or something…"

"Since when?!"

"Oh shit…"

[dividers by @cafekitsune]

[frostedclock-writes]

Alastor x ♀️! Reader

Path to Damnation

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Part 1 (Prologue)

Warning: Rated 18+ (just as a general rule of thumb)

---

You are the new resident of the hotel, but you aren't there to redeem yourself. No you are repaying a debt owed and it might cost you more then you bargained for. What should you report to Vox on this?

It was always a bit stuffy inside the conference room, the aquarium walls with circling sharks kept you on edge. Though you kept your composure as Mr. Vox ran his electric blue claw like didget around the rim of his glass.

" Simple enough instructions? Our last effort didn't even last the night. " Vox made a scoff of a laugh. " But with this new fancy hotel, " he put on a large smile and made a mocking excited gestured, then rolled his eyes and looked down at his glass, " it should be easy, you will give me a report every week on the hotel and what that fucker is up to with this damn scheme. "

" I think I can handle it, Mr. Vox. " You give a grin and put a hand on your hip. " It's perfect, they are hiring for a second maid thanks to all of their fancy new rooms and I know how to clean up a mess. "

The grin stretched across Vox's screen. " Then don't fail us. " He swirled his glass before taking a drink. " And we can call ourselves even. "

You nod and excuse yourself from the conference room as quickly as possible. You did have this. You haven't been in hell long, but you watched the news three months ago during the last extermination. You saw the faces of those who you will be calling coworker for now. You checked your phone as you got into the elevator. 1:15 p.m. You were expected to arrive and meet the head of staffing at the Hazbin Hotel, the woman named Vaggie. Room and board is included as pay for now, not that you didn't have a flow of funds right now from your current employers. Report and watch. Remember that. A job. Nothing more.

The ding of the elevator brought you back into reality and you stepped out into the bottom floor of the Vee Tower. The crisp smell of electronic and perfumed workers left your nose and was replaced with sulfur and shit. It was something you had gotten used to, among other things that might have once made you cringe or look away in life now just seemed normal. The walk through town was a dangerous one at the best of times, but you knew how to handle yourself. If you didn't, you would have been double dead by this point. You slip your way through the distracted crowds of sinners gathered around the store front of the Vee tower.

Your heels clicked against the concrete of the sidewalk as you made your way through Pentagram City, you looked at your phone again at the directions to the hotel. The Hazbin Hotel. It had been the butt of everyone's joke just nine months prior, but after that little maid had killed the leader of the exterminaton angels it changed. Which has really put a craw in your employers ass. The Vees had hoped the Radio Demon - who was helping with this 'princess passion project ' as they had put it - had disappeared again after that battle but much to Vox's dismay, it seems like he's a lot harder to kill.

You stop as you reach large wrought iron gates and a winding cobblestone pathway to a massive hotel, a large golden statue was in front of the entrance. Is that a dragon goat? You know what, it's hell, why should anything surprise you at this point. You gaze up at it as you pass beneath it on your way to the French double doors, it was massive and the whine of the gold made it seem like someone polished it everyday.

" Quite a work of art, don't you agree?" The crackle of static was the only warning you had before the filtered voice hit your ears from behind you.

You spun on your heels and you were looking into the intense red gaze of the deer demon known as Alastor. He seemed to chuckle at your response and stood up straight from the slightly leaned posture he had. " Oh, yes. Hi. Hello. " You clear your throat and keep your gaze on his smiling mug. Remember why you are here. " I'm here to find a Vaggie ? I am the new hire."

Alastor looked over you for a moment, his eyes drifted from your shoes up to your face and he made a hum sound. " Ah, so she was serious in requiring more help. She only needed to ask and I could have provided. But a fresh face to the hotel will do just nicely. " He extended his hand, " Alastor, quite a pleasure to meet you. Though I am sure you have heard of me no doubt."

You make a laugh and you take his hand, he shook it a little hard and you felt your body wiggle in the force of his shake. " Of course, Well, at least what you used to do was rather famous in the circles I ran in. Though you havent done much in the past eight years. "

His eyebrow twitched, he made a laugh. Loud, a bit forced. " Ha ha, well yes, I had taken a well needed vacation and now my time is taken up by this little project I am helping with."

The sound of a door opening, and a stern female voice called over. " Alastor, Niffty got caught in the chandelier again, could you- oh. " The white haired woman walked over, she had her hair pulled back in a ponytail that was held with a red ribbon and her bangs covered one eye. " You must be who I talked with on the phone. " Then she shot a glare at the Radio Demon. " Are you fucking scaring off our new help?"

Alastor put his hands behind his back. " Nothing of the sort! I was merely introducing myself, as a hotel manager should, hm? Now it seems I am needed elsewhere, " he looked over his shoulder as he began to walk away. His gaze on you for a moment, your stomach felt like it was in a vice with the way his red eyes met yours. " Looking forward to working with you. "

Then he was gone.

You blink and see Vaggie's fingers snapping in front of you. " Oh, sorry, did you say something, ma'am?" You day as you look over at her.

Her stern face softened a bit and she put her hand on her hip. " Come, let me show you the room you will be staying in and we can introduce you to everyone else. Don't worry, they aren't all like... Him." Her nose crinkled as she glanced in the direction that Alastor had left.

" Oh, alright. How many people are staying here anyways?" You ask as you fall in line behind her as Vaggie went inside.

Vaggie made a hum, her hands went behind her back like she was in a slight march. " Currently? We only have one guest, Angel Dust. Our staff includes myself, Husk the concierge and bartender, Niffty is our other resident maid, and you just met Alastor. We often have Charlie's father here as well as 'hotel manager consultant ' as he calls himself. And of course Charlie herself, she's particularly excited to meet you. "

She seemed to speak in a fond tone towards the end, you chuckle and smile. " Well if she is running the place, it's only right I meet her as well."

" She's busy right now prepping your welcoming party. She's going a little crazy in the new banquet hall. " Vaggie made a breath of a laugh. " So I hope you are hungry.

The hallways were carpeted in a elegant red with gold along the edges, the walls were a cream with gold molding along the top and bottom, it was almost a bit intimidating to be walking through in your dirty shoes. Thankfully you had dressed nicely at least in a simple button up blouse and an ankle length skirt, professional was what you had been going for and from what you could remember this outfit fit the bill.

She lead you up to the room you will be staying in for the foreseeable future. It was large, with the carpet being a plain dark red with a queen size bed with plain sheets and a dresser in the corner next to a dark wooden door. You assumed it must lead to a bathroom.

" It's bare, but you are welcome to decorate how you want. Charlie wants everyone to be able to ' express themselves' in healthy ways. " Vaggie explained as you made your way to the bed and felt the soft sheets.

It didn't smell foul in here you noticed. Everything had a sweet scent like apple blossoms and nature, you had almost forgotten what it had smelled like. It was comforting almost, but at the same time you had gotten so used to the copper and sulphur smell that seeped through Hell.

" That's fine. " You made a small chuckle, you clap your hands together as you spin around. " So... A party?"

[mama-qwerty]

Rescue

So here we have another self-indulgent piece that I had started months ago. Finally got around to finishing it and boy does it feel good to write.

Takes place in my Knuckles MacPherson au.

~~~~~

Under any other circumstances, Callie probably would have been intimidated.

She stood in the large office, decorated with ornate display cases containing trinkets and artifacts, many of which she was pretty certain weren’t obtained fairly or legally. Some were weapons, spears or shields or swords, while others contained relics that most likely held a more spiritual or symbolic meaning. Masks, headdresses, and statues of various sizes. Each item was carefully labeled, well lit, and positioned inside a glass case. They lined the walls, trophies on display for their owner, the large elephant Callie was currently staring down at the opposite end of the room.

Or she supposed he could be a mammoth. He was covered in brown fur, his long tusks curling toward the ceiling. They were actually fairly impressive, as far as tusks went. Obviously this guy had been around for a while.

He was currently on the phone, exchanging words with someone on the other end about her presence. It had taken some effort to make her way here, and she hadn’t even had the decency to have an appointment. She shifted the bag slung across her as she waited for him to finally hang up and address her.

She flicked her eyes to the right, where Knuckles stood. His eyes were half lidded, one swollen and sporting an ugly purple color that was almost black. A split marked his bottom lip, and his tongue dipped out to run over it as she watched. There were obvious bruises along his body, what looked like a healing laceration across his chest, and his large formerly white mitts were now stained and torn.

Shackles weighed on his wrists and ankles, with some sort of energy charge tethering them together. A large collar was clamped around his neck, with a larger box-like protuberance on one side. A little green light blinked regularly on that box, steady and menacing.

She may not have had a lot of experience off-world—this being her first time, after all—but she knew a shock collar when she saw one. Judging by the darkened fur peeking over the edges, it had been used often.

She simultaneously wanted to rush to her boy, take him in her arms and comfort him, and launch herself at this smug mammoth to tear his tusks right out of his face and beat him with them.

Knuckles had been taken two weeks ago. A ring had opened, allowing six humanoid beings to come through. There’d been a short battle, but these beings—bounty hunters, most likely—had been ready with electric staffs. They swarmed him, weakening him just enough to attach that cursed collar, and drag him back through.

She’d been panicked, worried sick for him, and the Wachowskis had been a godsend at keeping her sane. It had been a frantic search, Tails had put out all possible feelers through the galaxy for any sign of his location, when they suddenly got a hit three days later.

“The return of the most dangerous warrior in the galaxy! He’s back and tougher than ever! The battles have never been more intense! See him take down any challenger!”

The arenas. They’d taken him back to the arenas.

They would regret that. She’d make damn sure of it.

The mammoth finally hung up the phone with a slam, drawing her eyes back to him. The look he leveled upon her spoke of a man short on patience, and an overabundance of a nasty disposition, with the desire, and means, to do whatever the hell he pleased.

An intimidating situation, in most other circumstances.

These weren’t most other circumstances.

“Well,” the mammoth said, his voice not quite a sneer, but not quite not. “You seemed quite eager to meet with me. Tell me your business, or stop wasting my time.”

He sounded simultaneously annoyed and bored. Again, the idea of beating him with his own tusks flashed through her mind. She pushed it away with some effort, and stood tall, pushing her shoulders back and leveled him with a cold, sharp glare.

"I'll give you one chance to give me the echidna, and render his contract void." Her voice was tight, clipped, and dripping with barely contained rage.

The mammoth behind the equally sized desk leaned back in his chair, the springs straining beneath his weight. A smile curled his lips—a smirk, really—and he rested his elbows on the armrests of the chair, steepling his fingers before his chest.

"I find it very entertaining that you think you can simply waltz into my place of business and issue demands."

"Oh, this isn't a demand," she said, a similar smirk curling her own lips. "It's a courtesy. This is me, being polite, giving you a chance to avoid a whole lotta trouble."

An amused sound rumbled through his trunk, and he ran a hand along one of his long, curled tusks. Callie thought it was probably similar to when men caressed their own mustaches. "Trouble? Little lady, you'll pardon my amusement. You don't strike me as capable of giving me much trouble at all."

She shrugged. "Underestimating someone is a sign of either overconfidence, or bigotry, and right now I'm not sure I care which you're doing. Either way, that gives me the advantage."

"I doubt it."

"Try me."

"Me'na," Knuckles said, and the croak in his voice hurt Callie's heart. "You must go. He will—"

He was cut off with a sudden cry of pain, the lights on the collar around his neck lighting as electricity coursed through him. He grit his teeth, falling to one knee as thin tendrils of smoke trailed up from beneath the collar.

Callie's poker face fell momentarily, and she reached for Knuckles as he panted from the pain. Mogul chuckled at the sight, and that made Callie see red.

“Do that again and I will personally shove that tusk of yours so far up your a—”

The mammoth cut her off with a more annoyed huff, his chair giving a squeaky groan as he leaned forward. "Enough of this. I've wasted enough time with you. The echidna is mine, and will be until I see fit to release him from the contract he signed."

"As a child, with no legal guardian to permit such an agreement to take place," she said, her lips pulling into a tight line. She stepped closer to the desk, her shoulders back and gaze locked onto his. "I'd bet my ass that contract was signed under duress, if he even signed it at all."

“The boy was an orphan, and as such became my property—“ He gave her a sneering smile with a little amused snort when she bristled at that. “Ahem. I took . . . responsibility for the boy, and gave him opportunities he wouldn’t have otherwise had. I made him strong.”

“His father made him strong,” she said, and had to grit her teeth to keep from yelling. “His tribe made him strong. You made him an attraction to line your pockets.”

He lifted one massive shoulder in a shrug. “Agree to disagree.”

She pointed to Knuckles, and oh how her heart clenched when he flinched. “Look at him. I highly doubt he’s making you the money you want when he’s obviously too tired to fight properly.”

Another shrug. “That’s the advantage of a famous name. He doesn’t have to win. He just needs to appear. He’s one of the most famous champions I’ve ever had, and people flock to see the legendary last of the echidna, even if he’s getting his tail handed to him.”

“And what happens if he’s killed?”

His sneering smile returned. “Then I have exclusive rights to the only recording of the most dangerous warrior in the galaxy being defeated, in addition to a new owner of that title.” He sat back again, much to his chair’s very loud protest, bringing his hands to that steepled pose once more. “This is the way things are done here, lady. It’s just business.”

“More like extortion, kidnapping, and slavery, likely with a little dash of blackmail sprinkled in, too.”

His smile dropped. “I’d watch your mouth. You have no idea who you’re talking to.”

Her smile returned. She stepped forward and picked up the name placard on his desk, turning it toward him. “Mammoth Mogul. That’s you, right? The same Mammoth Mogul who not only owns the biggest broadcasting stations in the galaxy, but also half of Casino Zone, and majority shareholder of every arena this side of the Milky Way. Oh, not to mention a major contributor to a lot of the high muckity mucks around these parts, who always seem to turn a blind eye to the questionable goings on in your arenas and casinos, yet crack down pretty darn hard on other ones.”

Mogul’s face darkened, his fingers slipping from the steepled position to interlace and tighten. Oh, he didn’t like that.

“I believe you’re mistaken.”

“Yeah, your incredibly convincing poker face tells me I’m not.”

Silence settled for a moment, and Mogul leaned forward again, planting his elbows on the desk as he watched her with sharp eyes. He spoke through grit teeth. “And where did you hear these . . . wildly fabricated things?”

Her smile turned a little sharper. More predatory. “I’m a librarian. Curious by nature. I research. I dig. I sift through page after page of newspaper articles, and connect dots.” She dropped the placard back onto the desk with a clatter. “And you really should invest in a better firewall for your network. Once we got through, it was just a matter of searching your files to gather the info we needed to get in here.”

His eyebrow raised. “We?”

She shrugged, turning slightly to assume a more bored demeanor. Truth was, she was scared out of her mind, not only for herself but for Knuckles. This mammoth could theoretically snap her neck at the slightest provocation, and she wasn’t exactly playing it safe. She just hoped the plan she and Wachowskis had come up with actually worked.

“My associate zeroed in on where the echidna was being held, and then it was a quick job of bypassing all your so called security so we could get a peek at your internal files. Ticket sale tracking, profit expectations, bookkeeping . . .” She cast him a side eye. “How interesting that there seemed to be two copies of those. With vastly different numbers.”

The silence that settled then was heavy and thick and Callie could feel it seep into her as though it were a physical thing. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, as the mammoth’s gaze bored into her.

“I could kill you right now. You realize that, don’t you?”

She resisted the urge to swallow hard, but her hands clenched tighter on the strap of the bag slung across her.

Steady, Cal. Steady.

She had three rules to follow: Don’t show fear, stand your ground, and get Knux out.

“There’s that underestimating thing again.” Her voice was soft, and she pushed a little smirk to her lips. “Do you really think I came here without a plan?”

“And do you think I’ll just let you leave?” Mogul reached beneath his desk, presumably to press the little secret button all big important crooked bosses seem to have to summon his security team. “Maybe I’ll put you in the arenas. You wouldn’t last long, but hey, you’d be an interesting draw, nonetheless.”

“Oh, ya think? I’m actually a little flattered.”

Seconds passed, and no big burly security guards burst through the door to apprehend her. Mogul kept flicking his eyes to the door, the agitation in his expression growing every second they didn’t appear. Callie stood before his desk, watching him with a little smile.

When it was clear no help was coming, the mammoth pegged her with a dark glare. “How the hell did you get in here?”

Her smile grew. “Ah, now he’s asking the right questions. Your guards tried to, shall we say, convince me to leave, but I was pretty determined to speak with you. So I made sure they wouldn’t interrupt us.”

Okay, truth be told, Tails’ inventions made sure they were nicely contained for this little rescue mission. That little fox had been busy building as many weapons and traps as he could, while Callie searched through Mogul’s database to find information to, well, blackmail him with.

Sonic had wanted to come along to do his hero thing, but the adults decided it would be best if the other boys stayed behind. The rest of the universe didn’t know about them, and if this guy discovered there was a super fast hedgehog, and a super intelligent fox with a talent for building weapons, he would likely stop at nothing to snag them for his little gladiator games, too.

Best to keep them out of sight, and off this jerk’s radar.

Mogul pushed himself to stand, his chair giving one last groan as he hefted his weight from it. Callie’s heart pounded in her chest—holy crap he was huge. Now she did swallow hard, and it took all her bravery to stand her ground and not step back.

“I don’t need them to take care of you,” he growled, leaning forward to rest his fists on the desk and glare at her. “You’ve wasted enough of my time.”

“Me’na,” Knuckles called again, and Callie didn’t spare a look in his direction.

“It’s alright, sweetie,” she called, and was surprised when her voice came out steady. “We’ll be home soon.”

A snort of laughter traveled down the mammoth’s trunk at that, and he shook his head. “I can’t decide if you’re delusional, or just plain stupid.”

She smirked. “And I can’t believe you never wondered what was in my bag.”

His smile faded as his eyes flicked down to the worn messenger bag slung across her. She reached inside, pulling out a small cylinder shaped object with a button on the top. Holding it in a fist, she let her thumb hover over the large red button.

“We could have done this the easy way. I get the echidna, and you keep your arena in one piece.” She shrugged. “But you decided to be a dick.”

He scoffed. “Your poker face isn’t as convincing as you think it is.”

“I don’t think you understand just what’s at stake here,” she said, her voice quiet. “I didn’t just take out your guards. Before I came up here to talk to you, I took a detour to check out your arena. Then I found my way to the holding cells beneath it, where you keep your fighters contained. Nifty little prison you’ve got down there. Exactly how many are here of their own free will?”

His lips pulled into a tight frown. “They’re fairly compensated for their participation.”

“Mmm, that’s not what they said. Had myself a little chat with some of them. Seemed like most are here due to some debt they couldn’t repay. Some were captured. Others snagged as kids, like he was. All forced to fight, to put money in your filthy hands.”

He stood tall, crossing his arms before him. “They all signed contracts. It’s legal and binding.”

“And I’m sure they all signed them completely of their own free will, too,” she said, the scoff in her voice apparent. “But you know what? I’m willing to be nice and give you one more chance.” She nodded toward Knuckles. “Let him go. Never send any of your bounty hunters or goons after him again. You can sit up here, making bank off the misery of others. Just leave.us.alone.”

Mogul stared at her for a moment, seemingly considering her offer. “And if I refuse?”

She shrugged. “Then I push this little red button, and all the explosive devices I planted around the building go kaboom. All your fighters will be released, and some of them really didn’t have nice things to say about the guy who forced them to fight against their will. So I’d be a liiiittle worried about payback if I were you.”

The mammoth snarled at that, his hands dropping to curl into fists by his sides. “I’ll never stop hunting him.” His voice was little more than a growl. “Whatever you do I’ll rebuild from. A minor setback, at best. But I will make it my mission in life to see you both in that arena, beaten within an inch of your lives. I will revel in your screams. Your begging for your lives.”

A chill ran up Callie’s spine. He meant it. He would never stop looking for them, and especially now that he knew what planet they were on, he may not stop with just her or Knuckles. The other two boys would be in danger, as would any other person or animal on Earth.

Which meant that what she was about to do was for the good of her entire planet, and not just her boy.

But truthfully, her boy’s safety would have been reason enough.

“Big mistake,” she said, lifting her thumb. “Huge.”

Her thumb dropped, and there was a soft ‘click’ as the button depressed.

The entire building shivered. Explosions rang out all around them, deafening for a few seconds. The trio on Mogul’s office staggered on their feet, as the display cases around the room trembled from the force of the blasts.

That was much bigger than Callie expected. Tails really went all out with his weapons. She’d have to tell Maddie to keep an eye on that kid.

“NO!” The mammoth bellowed, moving to the windows that overlooked his arena below. Flames engulfed the spectator seats, and great pillars of smoke billowed out.

Callie didn’t waste any time. She hurried to Knuckles and jabbed the detonator against the collar. “Touch the end to any exposed circuitry, and twist the top,” Tails had told her, and she did as he instructed. The cylinder vibrated in her hand, and the sharp cackle of static floated up, right before the collar shorted out. The blinking green light went dark, and Knuckles gave a little grunt of relief.

“Look out!” he shouted, just as Callie was grabbed from behind by a long trunk, and thrown across the room. She landed hard, sliding across the floor, before smashing into a display case. The glass shattered, raining down on her as she tried to regain her senses.

“You’re not going anywhere!” Mogul smacked Knuckles into the corner with a swing of his trunk. The echidna crashed hard against the wall, crumpling to the floor with a painful groan.

“Leave him alone!” Callie screamed, the fear inside her quickly being overtaken by her protective instincts.

Mogul turned to her, his eyes hard and sharp, full of rage and fire. “I’ll kill you first, and make him watch,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. He stalked toward her, hands curled into tight fists. “Then I’ll make him fight until he begs for death.”

Oh shit.

Callie plunged her hand into her bag, fumbling for a moment in her panic, before her fingers curled around a flat disk with a button on the top. She pulled it out and clicked the button before throwing it like a Frisbee. Little arms jutted out around the circumference as it flew through the air, creating a crackling electrical net which wrapped itself around the mammoth, pulling his arms tight against his body as it delivered a strong shock.

Mogul screamed before going to his knees, and Callie moved as quick as she could to get back to Knuckles, her hand dipping into her pocket to retrieve the portal ring meant to send them home.

She wasn’t quick enough.

Just as she managed to half crawl, half run toward Knuckles, Mogul broke free from his electrical restraints. He clamped a hand on her ankle, yanking her backwards toward him.

“Oh no you don’t,” he sneered, tearing the bag strap to toss it into the far corner of the office. “No more toys.”

“Me’na!” Knuckles pushed himself to his knees, but he was obviously too exhausted and injured to help much. Mogul must have really put him through it for the echidna to be that sluggish.

The ring was still in Callie’s hand. As Mogul pulled her back, she closed her eyes and thought of the Wachowski’s backyard.

Then she slammed the ring on the floor, and pushed it toward Knuckles. It slid along the floor, coming to a stop right beneath him, and he had time to give her a shocked looked right before it opened, dropping him through.

“No!” His cry echoed as he traveled from this world to Earth, and a second later the portal closed.

Safe. Her boy was safe.

And then she was flying through the air when Mogul tossed her like a rag doll. She smashed into another display case, vaguely aware when the glass sliced her open in various places.

“I’ll admit, you took me by surprise,” he said as he came toward her. He moved slowly, shedding his suit jacket as he approached. He unbuttoned his cuffs, and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. “Not many can make that claim. But then again,” he lifted her by the throat, and slammed her into another case, “they never make it for long.”

Callie’s feet dangled above the floor, his fingers tightening around her throat.

Acting out of pure panic, Callie reached into the case behind her, hand searching for something, anything, to help. Her fingers curled around something solid and heavy, and she brought it around with all the strength she had left, smashing what seemed to be a solid iron statue straight against his temple.

Mogul uttered a strained growl, releasing her as he staggered back. Callie dropped, coughing and gasping, but kept her eye on the mammoth. He turned away from her slightly, his large tusks facing to her left, and an idea struck. She moved before she could think too much about it.

Lunging forward, she grabbed hold of his nearest tusk, and swung her body like an Olympic gymnast on the parallel bars. The momentum jerked him to his left, whipping his head to the side as her weight carried her forward. She was just heavy enough, and he off balance enough, that it made him cant to the side, and he fell with a hard thud to the floor.

Scrambling like a madwoman hellbent on surviving—which is, honestly, what she was—Callie whipped around to plant one foot on each tusk, and grab hold of his trunk. She yanked the appendage, drawing a pained cry from him as it stretched beyond its limit.

Yelling from outside. The freed fighters were coming. She’d told them of her plan, and promised them the opportunity to deal with Mogul after they were freed. She was sure there were probably some other guards she hadn’t run into, and they may be giving the fighters some trouble, but had no doubt the warriors would prevail.

It was amazing what you could do when you were fighting for your life.

Case in point.

Callie gave a hard yank on the mammoth’s trunk. “Still surprised?”

Instead of answering, Mogul reached up to grab her feet, and lifted her to slam against the floor. She lost her grip on his trunk, and all the air rushed out of her lungs at the impact. As she lay there, stunned, he moved over her, wrapping his hands around her throat and squeezing hard.

“You’re all out of options,” he hissed, a wicked smile curling his lips. “Time to die.”

“Guess again.”

Mogul had time to look to his right and then he was hit with a blast of energy, sending him flying back to land on his giant desk, smashing it to bits. Callie coughed and gasped, rolling slightly before a hand was on her upper arm.

“C’mon,” Tom said, pulling her to her feet. A large weapon that looked like a portable cannon was slung over his other shoulder. “We gotta go.”

Tom practically dragged her toward an open portal, just as the door to Mogul’s office burst open, letting in some of the most dangerous, and angry, warriors he’d all but imprisoned below the arena.

She had just enough time to look back and watch them descend on the downed mammoth, right before the portal closed.

And that’s when she was hit in the middle by a worried echidna. She let out a strained grunt, going to her knees as she gathered him into her arms.

“Watch the ribs, kiddo,” she said through grit teeth. There were likely a few cracked ones, if she had to guess. Among other injuries.

Knuckles wrapped his arms around her, gathering her shirt into his fists. Tails must have removed the collar and shackles. Good.

“You should not have gone,” he said, his voice cracked and broken. “You should not have done that. He would have killed you.”

“Yeah, right,” she said, burying her face into the safe spot on his forehead, right before where his quills started. “Like I’m gonna just let him keep my boy. It’s like you don’t even know me, ki’kone. Honestly.”

He uttered a soft chuckle, gently nuzzling against her chest. The two stayed like that for a moment, before Maddie moved closer and gently laid a hand on her shoulder.

“We should get you two cleaned up,” she said, her voice soft. “Come into the house and I’ll take care of your injuries.”

Callie gave a little nod, before looking over at Tom. “Thanks for the save.”

The sheriff gave a wave of his hand. “Don’t mention it. Although,” he looked down at Tails, “I was a bit surprised at the power in that gun of yours.”

“Yeah,” Callie said, slowly pushing herself to her feet. “I was glad to have the stuff you made, but hoo boy, they packed a punch.”

Tails smiled shyly, pulling his fists to his chest. “But they did the trick, right?”

“We’re gonna have a chat about that stuff, later,” Tom said, giving the boy’s bangs a quick ruffle. “But yeah, they did the trick.”

“Man, I wish I could have helped!” Sonic said, rolling his head back. “I knew it was a bad idea to send you alone. I should have gone with you!”

“She needed stealth if this was gonna work, bud,” Tom said, crossing his arms. “You are anything but stealthy.”

Tails looked to the hedgehog with a shrug. “He’s got a point.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“C’mon, guys,” Maddie called as she headed toward the house. “Let’s get these two fixed up.”

The Wachowskis headed back into the house, Tails grilling Tom on how his rifle worked, when Knuckles gave Callie’s hand a little tug to hold her back. She turned to him, giving him a cocked eyebrow in question.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice soft. “For coming for me.”

She smiled, going to one knee with a soft grunt as her ribs protested.

“I will always come for you, baby.” She caressed his muzzle with a knuckle. “Always.”

Knuckles smiled, leaning forward to rest his forehead on hers. They shared a quiet moment, before limping into the house, eager to rest and begin healing.

[writerslittlelibrary]

You saved me

masterlist

summary: when you are taken, your mothers do anything in their power to get you back, even if it means hurting you in the process. 

pairing: Natasha x daughter reader, Maria x daughter reader

warnings: death and injury

genre: angst

words: 1455

a/n: this is trash and I apologize. I had no idea where I was going with this but I just really wanted to post a blackhill x daughter story

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

 |——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

It has been three days since you’ve seen your mothers. Three days since you’ve slept in your own, warm, comfortable bed. The room you were locked in really was nothing in comparison to the comfort your mother’s had offered you over the years. 

Three days ago, you woke up like any other morning. Your mom, Maria, had already gone off to work, having mission reports and other important SHIELD business due by the end of the week. Your mama, Natasha, however, was at home, waiting to welcome you with a nice breakfast when you woke up. When you did wake up, your mama was kissing your cheek, saying she was just called into work.

You stretched a little before sitting up, giving your mama a hug before she left. Slowly, you got out of bed, putting on some sweatpants and your mom’s oversized t-shirt before making your way to the kitchen. Once you opened the fridge, there was a plate filled with your favorite breakfast you knew Natasha had prepared. Grabbing the plate and settling on the couch, you watched some tv before your show was interrupted. 

The tv had gone out, same with the lights and the digital clock. At first you were alarmed, but soon you settled on the idea that it was just a power failure. Someone must be messing with their electricity, you thought. It was unusual for the entire apartment block to lose their electricity, especially since your mothers had made sure everything would be up and running if something fails. They said it was for maximum security, which made you think. If the electricity had gone out, would the extra security on the door have gone out too?

You got up from the couch, walking to the door to check it. However, when you got to the front door, it was opened slightly. There was no possibility that Natasha had left the door open, so there must be someone in the apartment. Almost immediately you reached for your phone, wanting to call one of your mothers. 

Before you could even unlock the phone however, you felt a pinch in your neck, and you lost consciousness. That’s how you found yourself in your current situation. Locked in a tiny, unsanitary room. There was a chain attached to the wall that was attached to a cuff on your ankle, ensuring you wouldn’t be running away anytime soon. 

You wondered how many days it had been already, not having much sense of time in the dark room as there were no windows. You wondered how long it had taken for your mothers to notice you were gone, whether they finished their work day and were expecting to come home to you being asleep on the couch. You wondered if they were worried. 

There was a man that would occasionally come into the room. He would check your temperature, take some blood and sometimes inject you with something. The injections left your arm a little sore, but in general they weren’t hurting you. 

After the first time he came in, you fought against him, not wanting him to come any closer with his needle than he already was. After a guard was brought in however, you realized your mistake after the few hits he had delivered to you. Your upper lip was cut, and you had a cut on your temple. The blood that had trickled down had already dried, but the cut was still sensitive.

You heard some commotion outside the room, and wondered if it was the man that came back to take more of your blood. It wasn’t, and instead the cell door was opened by another man. He looked way taller and stronger, and looked nothing like the doctor that came in these past few days. 

Before you got to question him though, you were pulled from your sitting position, the man standing behind you and looping his arm around your neck, pulling you against his chest. 

You struggled to breath a little, and wondered what was going on when you saw a familiar redhead stand in the door opening, a gun being brought up to your temple. 

“If you try anything, she dies,” the man said, loading the gun to prove he meant his statement. Your mama’s grip on her gun didn’t waver. Instead she kept it pointed right at him, knowing she could kill him if she had too. 

“You don’t want to play this game,” she told him, loading her gun as well. The man pressed the gun against your temple a little harder. “Leave this building and she lives.” “I can’t do that,” your mama told him, taking a step closer. You could hear the bullet next to your head fall into the chamber, knowing he was going to shoot. Before you could feel his bullet pierce your head however, you heard another gunshot.

You opened your eyes when you heard a body drop, turning around in shock to see the man on the ground. You turned to your mama, who rushed to your side with a worried look on the face. It’s then you released the pain you felt in your shoulder.

Your mama had shot the man fatally, through you. He had stood behind you in a way that ensured she couldn’t shoot him, so she shot him through your shoulder. 

You grasped your shoulder, grimacing as you felt the blood soak your hand. “Nice shot,” you told your mama, who had reached her hand out to cover yours, helping you keep pressure on the wound. She smiled at you and pulled you into a hug, sighing deeply.  

After a few seconds she pulled back, cupping your face in her hands. “We have to go,” she told you, grabbing her gun and standing in front of you. “Mom,” you warned, signaling towards your ankle. Your mama grabbed the keys from the man’s corpse, and made quick work releasing your ankle. 

She held her gun up high and exited the room, making sure you were following close behind. Soon enough you were standing outside, the Quinjet just a few feet in front of you. You followed your mother as she guided you to it, your mom already on board. The moment she saw you she jumped up from her seat and engulfed you in a hug. “You’re hurt,” Maria said as she inspected your wounds. “I’m okay,” you reassured her.

Maria helped you sit down as Natasha went to grab some supplies for your arm. When you sat down Maria sat on your right, pulling you into her and holding you close. You closed your eyes and just enjoyed your mothers warm hug. Her smell and her comfort you missed so much. 

Natasha sat down on your left, carefully pulling the shirt down to get access to your wound. You were still wearing Maria’s oversized shirt, making it easy for Natasha to pull it down and give attention to your wound. Not a word was said, but you knew you were safe in your mothers arms. 

You arrived back at your apartment about two days ago, and even though your mother had Tony up the security on your home, Maria nor Natasha would leave your side. 

While you were enjoying the attention and nurturing they gave you you also felt kind of suffocated. You understood their behavior though, not expecting it to go away anytime soon either. You were currently laying on the couch, your head resting on Maria’s lap and your legs resting on Natasha’s. 

“We love you, you know that,” Natasha suddenly said, breaking the silence. You looked at her a little confused. “Of course I know that. I love you too,” you told her. She looked at you with regret in her face. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” she said, suddenly getting tearful. 

You turned to her completely, feeling Maria’s hand on your back as she helped you sit up. She scooted closer to your mama, crawling up her side and laying your head on her shoulder. “You didn’t hurt me mama, you saved me. Please don’t feel guilty,” you told her as you closed your eyes and held her tight. 

You felt Maria rub your leg in a comfortable motion. She didn’t want to interfere in the moment you were having with your mama, but she did want to let you know she was there for you. 

“I’m so sorry,” Natasha said, wrapping her arms around you tightly. “Please don’t be sorry mama. You saved my life. You have nothing to be sorry for. My shoulder will heal,” you told her, and you felt Natasha nod her head. “I love you,” she told you. “I love you too,” you replied. 

[theapocalypseisonlythebeginning]

Of Daughters and Bonding - The Ghoul & Lucy MacLean

Fandom: Fallout TV Show

Characters: Lucy MacLean, The Ghoul (Cooper Howard)

Relationships: Platonic, friendship, father daughter

Summary: “What’s that grin fer?”

“I knew there was good in you. I mean… I really really really doubted it, but no one is completely bad.” She stood up, collecting her belongings with a spring to her steps. “Thanks.”

Now travelling companions, the Ghoul and Lucy bond as she reminds him of his daughter...

Warning: Under the cut there are major spoilers for the Fallout tv show. Please use caution when reading 🖤 this is set after s.1!

Tag list: @nowandthane @fizzyxcustard

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from my tag list :3

His daughter would think him a monster.

He distorted his own mirrored image by thrusting his cupped hands into the small puddle of water. Slurping loudly, he pretended not to be listening to Lucy’s rambling. He was though. But his mind was also very distracted by other fears…

Other fears than the Brotherhood having Cold Fusion: unending Power both through electricity and control over electricity. People in the Wasteland wanted – no, needed power. With power comes food, water, shelter... And with people wanting it, the Brotherhood can take control of people. As if they didn’t already. Anywhere they went, they seized everything in the name of their so called brotherhood.

Lucy thought this was a pretty good thing but-

"Ain't nothin' good gonna come off of the Brotherhood in charge." The Ghoul stood up with a groan, wiping his mouth dry with his sleeve.

"Maximus is a good guy."

He began walking with a roll of his eyes, the girl following him quickly. "A couple good guys don't stop all the bad."

Lucy had wanted to keep arguing, to keep defending those knights that seemed to be nice and helpful to the people from what she had seen so far... but that was just it, wasn't it? She'd only really met Maximus, and briefly that Thaddeus guy. She didn't actually know what the Brotherhood was. Her silence gave that much away. He smirked a bit, but didn’t turn his head to check on her. That might make her keep talking.

But that wasn't what had silenced her. It was the Ghoul's tone. Lucy had travelled with the man for quite some time before their current deal of companionship, and now it had been a couple of days. As mysterious as he tried to be, he really wasn’t. It was easy to read him. When he meant something deeper, it was obvious in his voice. There was an intelligence behind all that gun wielding aggression. He knew things. And it was obvious to Lucy.

…

"Were you speaking from experience?"

Cooper offered her one confused look, then went back to his own things.

“Earlier when you said those things about the Brotherhood and ‘one good thing’… Were you speaking from experience?”

The Ghoul looked up at her from where he was setting up camp. Setting up camp really only meant tossing his bag down and telling CX404 to go hunt for her own food. But he'd gotten comfortable resting against a boulder, seconds away from tilting his hat to pretend to go to sleep...

The Ghoul never slept. Lucy wondered if that was a Ghoul thing...

"Mind yer own damn business, little lady. Or you'll get into trouble I can't save ya from."

Lucy lifted her chin at those words. "Well, I'd argue I've proven I can handle myself, thank you!"

"When?"

Lucy stayed quiet for a bit. "I've survived up here for a week."

The Ghoul laughed at that, muttering out a ‘surviving?’ to himself.

Much to Lucy’s relief, though, he rested back and tilted his head to "go to sleep". Miffed, Lucy laid down on her spot in the dirt, her bag for a pillow. They’d only been travelling for a little over three days. The trauma of finding out about her father’s deeds, and her mother… well, it was present. But she was keeping it suppressed. It wasn’t a healthy approach to it, but what else was she supposed to do? Have a breakdown in the middle of the Wasteland? Prove to this Ghoul that she couldn’t handle the surface world? Find a therapist?

Were there therapists up here…?

Ugh… She hated the surface.

....

Lucy awoke with a start in the middle of the night to a loud BANG.

Scrambling up to a sitting position, she grabbed her syringe pistol and aimed it at the sound. The darkness of the night made it all even more disorienting, not to mention CX404 was barking like crazy next to her.

Slowly, though, she came to her senses. An explosion somewhere far away. A large cloud burning orange filled the sky, illuminating Lucy, the dog and the Ghoul with an eerie light.

"Ain't nowhere near us," the Ghoul said out loud. If Lucy didn't know better, it sounded almost like he was trying to calm her down.

Slowly, she lowered her pistol. The orange cloud was illuminating their surroundings just enough for her to be able to tell that the Ghoul hadn't moved from his boulder. But he was looking up at the sky too, just like her. It was, briefly, like a sunset. But it wasn’t quite as soothing as one.

Her pip boy began to peak, alerting her to radiation.

Great.

Slowly, she lifted her thumb up to the cloud-

"What're ya doin'?"

Lucy didn't notice the Ghoul snapping his gaze over to her like he'd just seen a Feral sneak up on them. He stared whilst the light slowly dimmed around them again…  

"Just something my dad taught me. I think we're good." With that, she smiled at him before the darkness completely encompassed them again, then laid back down. She was expecting the Ghoul to ask more questions about her action, but instead:

"'S what I said," the Ghoul muttered under his breath... but he was still staring at where he'd last seen her.

Damn... that brought back memories...

...

"Daddy? Is it mine or your thumb?"

With a start, Coop awoke from the nightmare. Didn't matter how many centuries had passed. That always returned to him in his deepest, darkest nightmares. The boom. The power of the aftershock. The strange smell in the air. The sight of the entire city crumbling…

And his poor daughter, clinging to him: her lifeline. The one person she thought would keep her safe no matter what. The one person who should keep her safe from anything and everything…

He stopped his memories before they could get worse. Because worse they got. He instead tried to bring himself back to present times: pain, fear of turning Feral, MacLean…

Lucy.

He watched her sleep, innocently with her mouth slightly ajar. His daughter used to look like that sleeping too, hell… she even had her mouth slightly ajar. Especially when she fell asleep in the backseat of his car, all snug and strapped in safely…

Would his daughter have become like Lucy? Would she have tried to beat this ugly world with kindness? Like she used to do as a child?

Or... had his daughter become that? Had he missed her entire life? Because…

No- Don’t bring back those memories…

What sort of a father could he be now anyway? He was a Ghoul. Slightly more smooth skinned than others, thanks to all those years of cutting at him… but still a Ghoul. A monster.*

Shit…

“Are you okay?”

The Ghoul snapped out of it.

Dammit.

He’d not managed to shake the memories after all. Lucy had awoken to find him staring at her, wordlessly.

“Why wouldn’t I be, sunshine?”

Lucy watched him with that sympathy no one in the Wasteland had. Especially not for a Ghoul.

He scowled at it, almost scoffing, as he stood up and grabbed his bag. CX404 sniffed at his hand. He offered her a pat on the head.

“We should get a move on.”

“You said…” Lucy didn’t move to get packed. Instead, she continued to watch him with that goddamned sympathetic look in her eyes.

There were no therapists in the Wasteland.

“You said you had a family? That my dad might know where they are?”

Coop bit down hard as he eyed Lucy with harsh eyes. He desperately tried to warn her off from trying to talk about this. Not because he’d lash out though. But because he’d not be able to keep his emotions at bay.

“Maybe.”

“Do you have kids?”

Coop stared at her. Was she telepathic? No. that’s not something they did to Vault dwellers, right? Or..? “What’s it to ya?”

“Maybe this is going to sound crazy but… Sometimes, I feel like you do this thing only a dad would do. Like… Calm me down when I’m not even aware I’m freaking out. Just with a couple of words that would… that would be enough to calm a child down that depended on you. Like last night.”

What had he done last night?

“I just mean…” Lucy sighed, something in Cooper’s silence making her uncomfortable. Good. Maybe she’d stop talking about this. “If you have kids, I’ll try and help you find them. That’s the deal, right? We’re working together because our targets are in the same location. But I can help more if you need it.”

That… was the opposite of what Coop thought she’d ever say to him. “I’m sorry, ain’t I the one that sold ya fer drugs?”

“Yeah,” Lucy agreed with a nod, “but I’m sorta starting to get that this is what you have to do to survive in this world.”

“So yer gonna trust me now? Then ya ain’t learned nothin’.”

Lucy shrugged. “And…” She glanced down at her hands. She had this awful habit of picking at her nails. For someone who had smooth skin, she was awfully intent on making sure it wasn’t smooth.

He’d never noticed her finger was back. Though it wasn’t hers. Necrotic. Rotting.

Curious.

 “My dad did horrible things just to get to my brother and I so… I get it. I guess. I don’t condone it. But I get it.”

Coop didn’t like that. He couldn’t exactly point out why, not consciously, but he knew he got a strange taste in his mouth from those words, even if she hadn’t meant anything bad by them. “Now, listen to me, little lady.” He pointed a gloved finger down at her, stern, serious: “There do be a whole lotta shit I’d do fer my little girl. But it don’t involve blowing up an entire civilisation jus’ ‘cause I ain’t getting my way, or whatever the hell his problem was. I was divorced. It’s ‘bout talkin’. Not…” Well, could he really say his divorce had been like others’? Not really. So he couldn’t really preach on that end. “I wouldn’t kill innocents. I’d kill a whole lotta bad people, though. Your dad is just trash, got it? Don’t be deserving yer kindess no more.”

Lucy stared at Cooper after those words.

“What’s that grin fer?”

“I knew there was good in you. I mean… I really really really doubted it, but no one is completely bad.” She stood up, collecting her belongings with a spring to her steps. “Thanks.”

Cooper stared at her with narrowed eyes. “Did ya hear anythin’ I jus’ said?”

“Yeah, I did.” Lucy beamed up at him. It almost annoyed him. Almost. “My dad’s an asshole. It’s not normal. I kinda… needed to hear that, in all honesty. It makes going after him a little easier. And you are nicer than you let on.”

“I ain’t nice.”

“Yes you are,” Lucy said with a wide smile. “So come on, big guy. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover today.”

She began walking, but Cooper was quick to reach out and stop her. He wasn’t done with this conversation. “I’m sorry I sold ya.”

Lucy offered him a gentle look. “I know.”

With that, Lucy started walking. Cooper waved for CX404 to follow along, and walked after Lucy. It was silent, which was when Cooper’s mind always began to do that damn thinking of his. Lucy was gentle, truly. And if such a gentle soul, someone like his own daughter’s, could accept Cooper for what he’d become…

Maybe his daughter wouldn’t think him a monster after all.

[suhnshinehaos]

treacherous : act three, part thirteen

…a spin-off to crush culture ! synopsis : after a couple of instances of accidental matching clothing, yangyang finds himself in a dating rumor with possibly the most famous person on campus : yn, the bassist of an up and coming band. yangyang doesn’t seem to have a problem with it. unfortunately yn, who has also built up a reputation for being cold as winter, does. pairing : liu yangyang x gn!reader genre/s : university au, student council + band au, fluff, angst, humor

act three, part thirteen : sparks wc : 1.5k song rec : sparks by coldplay

previous  ➤  act two, part twelve next  ➤  act three, part fourteen treacherous  ➤  masterlist 

yangyang wades through the crowded room with only one goal in mind : finding you.

the air is thick with idle chatter and the low hum of an instrumental of a dreamvision song playing over the speaker. the press conference had ended just about ten minutes ago, and all he could think of was the fact that you were going on tour. 

the first thing he felt was pride. you had come a long way from playing events at your university. he loved seeing you perform on stage, doing what you do best, with a smile on your face and light in your eye. he loves watching you, but not nearly as much as he loves you.

precisely why the second emotion, and the one that’s currently filling his veins in panic, is fear. yangyang knows what he feels. it’s the one thing he’s always been sure of. he knows how he felt in the weeks the two of you worked on a random project in your final year of university. he knows how he felt when he cut off contact with you, even if it was the last thing he wanted to do. he knows how he felt when you walked back into his life a year after.

but you’re about to leave. you had told him how you felt before he cut you off. now he wonders if he could finally speak his mind and heart, and if you still had space for him in yours.  

“hello everyone.”

dejun’s voice cuts off his train of thought, his attention now towards a makeshift stage. it had been used for the press conference earlier, and he had been so focused in finding you that he didn’t even notice that instruments were being set up.

yangyang notices you scanning the crowd, looking for someone.

and when your gaze meets his, he knows that you found what you’ve been looking for. because he did too. 

he raises a hand to let you know that he sees you.

you nod back with a small smile, letting you know that you see him before you turn your head towards dejun.

“we hope you’re enjoying the night so far, we just wanted to perform a couple of song off our new album. out later at midnight.”

yangyang watches you play the bass for four songs. he notices when you close your eyes, completely lost in the feeling of the songs - a couple upbeat and freeing, a couple angry and cathartic. he notices when you turned your body towards your bandmates, mouthing the words dejun and mark were singing. you were electric, you belonged on stage. 

if anyone’s eyes were on him instead of the band, the would have noticed the stars in his eyes.

“this will be our last song for tonight. you can hear the rest when the album drops.”

yangyang hears you speak into the mic, the first time since you started performing. you end with a little laugh, looking down at your instrument before looking up to meet his eyes; like you knew exactly where he would be in the crowd.

because you did. 

you let out an exhale as one of the stagehands gives dejun his acoustic. he nods at you before strumming the beginning chords.

“i hope you like this one.” you speak before playing your part, your voice shakes at the word you. for a second you remember the softness in yangyang’s gaze, you know you aren’t referring to the crowd. you take a breath, and you begin to sing,  

‘ did i drive you away ? ’

you catch a glimpse of the time you two studied at ncit, at all the times you blatantly ignored his attempts of becoming your friend. you remember pushing him away, up until he brought food and medicine to your apartment when you had a headache. 

and you remember the time he was the one who pushed you away, but you couldn’t blame him either. you, more than anyone, knew what it meant to be with someone in the public eye. 

‘ i’ll always look out for you ’

dejun’s voice joins yours and you can’t help but remember the day he walked in your shared apartment, asking if you knew that yangyang was now working in a magazine. you subtly shake your head as the flashback goes on for farther, to the time you distanced yourself from him because of all the hate he was getting.

‘ my heart is yours, it’s you that i hold onto ’

you close your eyes, sing the words as sincerely as you can, hoping the words get through to the only person who’s meant to hear them.

he does, and yangyang feels his chest clench at the weight of his own emotions.

‘ yeah, i saw sparks ’

the moments flash by your eyes in one giant supercut : from the moment he stepped into the classroom with a hoodie that matched yours to the moment he shook your hand when the interview ended, the way his hand held yours a little tighter, for a few seconds longer.

the song ends and both of you are breathless, looking at no one else but the other. you knew there are cameras around, but you couldn’t care less about them.

you get off stage and immediately make a bee-line for him, politely declining conversations from reporters and other celebrities alike. your eyes search far and wide for his familiar face, your steps growing faster and heavier with each passing second. you don’t even notice that you were practically running into someone, causing you to stumble back.

“hey, i got you.” yangyang steadies you with his hands on your shoulders, and he doesn’t let go even as you’re now standing perfectly still.

you’re breathless, looking into his eyes. “i was looking for you.”

“i’m here.” he chuckles. “you can stop looking.”

“i know. it’s crowded here, don’t you think?” you shrug off his hands from your shoulders and walk past him, hoping that he follows you.

very subtle, he thinks to himself and shakes his head with a smile, but he follows you anyways.

you lead him to the company building’s rooftop. no cameras, no press, no label staff. just you and him, and the bright stars shining down to watch the two of you. instinctively you wrap your arms around yourself. the air is harsh and cold, and the nearly sheer dark-blue shirt your stylists gave you wasn’t doing you any favors.

you feel something draped around your shoulders, and almost immediately the comforting scent of yangyang’s perfume engulfs you. 

he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his slacks, standing beside you. “your presence is warmth enough.”

you roll your eyes and nudge his side with your own, before you could open your mouth to speak, he turns to you to ask a question.

“when are you leaving? for tour.”

“couple of days from now, but there’s still a lot to do… so this is technically my last night of freedom.”

“how long will it be?”

“a few months. there’s already a demand for additional shows.”

yangyang lets out a low whistle, turning his head towards the several buildings that surrounded the two of you. the lights are nearly blinding, the city below is alive, but it’s your arm brushing against his that overwhelms him.

“when you get back, i’m taking you out on a date.”

you look at him, and if he had looked back at you, he would have seen the complete shock on your face. he doesn’t, it is only you who sees the completely determined look on his face.

“it’s going to be long wait.” your voice falters. almost immediately you’re worried. the timing. the distance. everything else in between. while you could call and text every day, there’s no guarantee of that. and it wouldn’t be the same.

yangyang looks back at you, his gaze the gentlest you’ve ever seen, you feared you would melt on the spot. “i can wait. anyone who feels the way i do about you, as strong as i do, could wait an entire lifetime.” 

“i-” your words get caught in the back of your throat, not expecting that amount of overwhelming earnestness from him. this wasn’t the same yangyang you knew in university. you know it, and he knows it too. he’s grown into the person you need, and he’s not leaving any time soon.   

he drapes an arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer, planting a soft kiss to your temple. his lips hover just a couple of centimeters from your ear, his voice a low whisper, “i’ll be waiting for you, so come home to me. okay?”

you pull away from him the slightest bit, only enough so he could see your face and the sincerity in your eyes, “i’ll come home to you.”

from reese, with love <3

gy3 my beloveds,,,, to be loved like the way they love each other.... that is THE DREAM !! tysm for reading, only a couple more parts left for this series. as always, i'd love to know what you think- your thoughts/rbs/replies/asks are much appreciated ! hope you're all doing well and taking care :)

[voxofthevoid]

Welcome to Schrödinger's Noncon Wednesday #1 ✨

Shibuya swap is temporarily suspended while I finish the itagofushi fic that should have been condensed into a oneshot for the anniversary project but wasn't—because I'm, y'know, an insane clown. The fic is current three chapters and 15.5k words. I don't think it'll become obscenely long, but it sure as hell doesn't seem short.

It's a pornfest. It's also broken free of my outline. The intent was to start with dubcon and move to consensual sex, but the way it's coming out, we've got straight-up noncon, followed by extremely dubious consent and then milder dubcon, culminating in consensual sex—all involving different combinations of the three guys involved. Hence the name Schrödinger's noncon—full credit to @nearalways, whose brain I keep trying to make out with.

This week's scene is mostly consensual itafushi, with referenced gofushi noncon.

Megumi scowls at Gojou and pries his eyes away, running headfirst into Itadori’s blazing brown eyes a moment before teeth sink into the soft underside of his belly.

“Itadori!” Megumi forces his spine back flat, clenching and unclenching his fists in Gojou’s honest-to-god silk sheets in a desperate bid for control. “That’s not even a kiss.”

Itadori licks at the spot he bit, but if it’s meant to be apology, it’s not a very good one, not when his heavy-lidded eyes are dripping satisfaction.

“Just wanted your attention,” Itadori murmurs, lips moving against Megumi’s skin. “Don’t look away, Fushiguro.”

Megumi swallows an unholy noise, but some of it spills out, trembling in the air.

From beside him, there’s soft laughter.

It’s a smile that Itadori presses to Megumi’s skin this time; it’s a quiet, gentle thing, but it still cuts so deep, leaving Megumi gasping around the wet spill of his entrails. Itadori kisses him all over his stomach like he can’t see or taste the mess, and then that mouth is being dragged to Megumi’s chest, tracing the shape of his pec before closing wetly over a nipple.

Itadori sucks, and it’s getting struck by lightning.

There’s no strangling his reaction, his body arching up violently enough to dislodge Itadori’s mouth from his chest and his throat burning around a violently high noise that bounces off the wall.

Itadori smiles, wide-eyed with what looks like wonder. “You like that?”

Megumi just pants for breath, and then Itadori’s touching that nipple, a calloused thumb sliding over the wet bud, and something sharp and electric bolts down Megumi’s spine, making him shudder and arch into the touch—then away, the pleasure too sharp, except Itadori follows it with his hand and then his mouth. Megumi’s braced for it this time, only twitching when Itadori mouths on those overly sensitive nerves, but the pleasure is a simmering flood in his veins, heating him all over.

Then teeth scrape the nipple, and Megumi’s whole body sings some howling song.

He fists a hand in Itadori’s hair and yanks him up to his mouth.

There’s no resistance. Itadori falls on him like a wolf, his mouth eager and open, and it’s only the shock of the impact that makes Megumi part his lips, gasping wetly against Itadori’s lips, but there’s nothing accidental about the tongue that plunges into his mouth, Itadori licking deep like he owns everything he’s tasting, and Megumi lets him the way he’s been dreaming and aching to since he started wanting this boy, and the taste and the heat spread down his whole body.

Itadori’s hand cups his face, calluses branding Megumi’s skin, and tilts it a little, and then their mouths are at a different, better angle, and the groan Itadori buries in his mouth is followed by a fury that threatens to bruise, his mouth a hot seal against Megumi’s while his tongue sweeps deep, sliding over Megumi’s tongue and prodding at the roof of his mouth and digging into every soft space.

It’s hunger like nothing Megumi’s ever felt, ever tasted. And it is a taste, the tongue in his mouth flooding his palate with a warm, wet flavor that’s just skin and spit but feels like more, like Itadori’s essence distilled into something Megumi can swallow.

He swallows, and Itadori kisses him harder, deeper, wetter.

Megumi has to tear free of the kiss with a gasp, panting for air, and Itadori just makes a sound that’s too much like a whine, dragging wet lips along Megumi’s cheek before dipping his head, mouthing at his jaw and throat, a play of lips and teeth and tongue that’s as hungry as it’s clever—

It’s clever.

It’s several minutes delayed, the realization that Itadori knows what’s doing. That first chaste kiss proved nothing, but maybe the way Itadori stepped between Megumi’s open legs and touched him should have. Megumi definitely should have realized when Itadori kissed his way up his body at his own damn leisure—eager and hungry, yes, but also slow and tender.

Megumi allows the pressure that turns his face back toward Itadori, but he slaps a hand over that descending mouth.

“You’ve done this before,” he says, and he doesn’t mean for it to come out like an accusation, but it does, every sharp note of it slicing through the air.

There’s more soft laughter from beside him.

Itadori blinks, raising one hand to pry Megumi’s fingers off his mouth. “Yes? I mean—wait, you haven’t?”

Megumi just grits his teeth, trying and failing to swallow a sense of…not betrayal, not really. But it’s something acrid and ugly. It’s not like he was expecting Itadori to be a virgin or even inexperienced. It’s just that he didn’t think he wouldn’t be. Itadori doesn’t have a girlfriend. Or boyfriend. Or anyone like that. He doesn’t even keep in touch with people from his old life, and he goes out a lot, sure, but he likes company for it—Megumi, Kugisaki, their upperclassmen, Gojou, and even Nanami. And he’s not the kind of guy who’d keep these things a secret.

Except he has.

“Gojou-sensei,” Itadori says, yanking Megumi out of the new hell he’s stewing in, “you didn’t even kiss him?”

Megumi gags a bit. Itadori looks at him in concern.

“I wouldn’t be so cruel,” Gojou says, and even without looking at him, Megumi can see the maddening curve of his mouth. “After all, Megumi’s been saving himself for you.”

Itadori looks taken aback, and then he drags his eyes from Gojou to Megumi, expression shifting from incredulity to awe.

It makes Megumi want to crawl into a hole and die. All he can feel is the sore heat inside him, lining the path Gojou carved into him. That ache deep in his gut, like a bruise where nothing’s ever touched. His rim is still wet, and no matter how tightly Megumi clenches up, it feels so open.

“Fushiguro—”

“Don’t,” Megumi bites out, closing his eyes. “Shut up.”

“He’s shy,” Gojou says conspiratorially to Itadori. “I don’t want to kiss Megumi, but if you’re offering, I’d like to finish what I started.”

“Why’re you asking me?” Itadori says, sounding genuinely confused. “Oh, I guess I did interrupt. Still, it’s up to Fushiguro, isn’t it?”

“So it is,” Gojou murmurs. Fingers find Megumi’s elbow, gliding sickeningly gently up his arm and along his shoulder, nudging the edge of his jaw. “What do you say, Megumi?”

Die, is what Megumi would like to say, but it’s not like Gojou magically dropped dead the last few times he tried.

He doesn’t want to. Of course he doesn’t want to. He still hurts with what Gojou took, and worse than the pain is the lingering sense of violation. Itadori’s touch chased it away briefly; at least, it distracted Megumi enough that he felt nothing but Itadori’s mouth, his heat. But that brimming wonder in Itadori’s eyes brought it right back, and now it’s in him like a stain, oil mixing with blood.

A kinder hand cups his face, Itadori’s calloused thumb sliding sweetly over his cheek. “You good, Fushiguro?”

No. No, he’s not good at all.

“Whatever,” Megumi says, opening his eyes to the ceiling. “Do what you want.”

[sleepyfan-blog]

Pattern Recognition

Author’s Note: this is the second part of mer-Sirass fic!  Previous.

Next

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @the-pure-angel 

Warnings: mention of illness and parasites (fish variety) 

Summary: Sirass figures out the cause of the sick reef.

Sirass glared down at his bonded, arms folded over his chest as he looks down at you “And why do you not want me to come with you while you are inspecting the sickened reef?”

You sigh and remind him “You can read through the data that we've recorded, collate it and find connections between different incidents much faster than any of the rest of our team. That and… The Reef and the fish and other sea life who depend on it are getting much sicker over the past several months. The number of parasites and sheer variety of them is unlike anything any of us have ever seen. I… I know that you have an incredible immune system and that your armor somehow helps you to survive the depths of space… But-” you reach out and lightly touch the grumpy Iron Warrior's hand with one of your own, squeezing gently “I worry about you. We don't know the source behind these sicknesses. I would feel awful if You came down with something while helping me with this issue.”

“What about you? I know that you've told me that aquatic diseases can't affect you, and that threatened aquatic parasites are unable to penetrate through your swimming gear, but I want to be there to protect you. Besides, despite my many excellent skills, data processing is best left to-” Sirass grumbled before he stopped talking mid-sentence, as a horrified expression appeared on his face.

He swum through the air as fast as he could, large form blurring for several moments as he picked up a damaged piece of diving equipment. His fingers shook a little as he inspected it, face pale and expression unreadable “Do you know how this happened?”

“Yes, Doctor Alenfil had to do an emergency evac to the surface a couple of hours ago after his equipment started malfunctioning out of nowhere. I saw him do the double check myself. He said he was mobbed by dark green creatures that burbled and cackled - two of them sparked electricity and they tried to bite him. Luckily he was able to scare them off by hitting them with his shark baton… Are you okay, Sirass?”

Sirass let out a series of probable-curse words in his native tongue. He darted over to the table and sketched out the rough shape of a strange looking little monster. It has many pointed teeth and three too many eyes for your taste, and small, thin tails “Did they look similar to this?” Heasked, tone urgent and eyes wide.

“I'll have to check with Parris, but from his description, yes.” You respond, alarmed by how distressed Sirass was. You take a snapshot of the picture and text your colleague, who was currently being treated for the bends, having had to go up to the surface to avoid drowning after his oxygen tank had been bitten through. Less than a minute later, you had your answer. It was a simple one word answer, which you passed onto Sirass. “Yes, that's what attacked him, why?”

“Fuck fuck fuck! This is far more dangerous than I first thought. You need to quarantine that reef and the surrounding lands for at least 8 miles in every direction. Fuck! Why didn't I see this sooner?” Sirass growls, swimming back and forth in the air in agitation. “... I'll need to contact the chapter masters. They're likely going to get the Salamanders involved.”

You blink in confusion, asking “we do have the Reef and the surrounding waters condoned off. Why eight miles specifically? What's going on? Who are the Salamanders? What is a chapter master? Sirass! Please talk to me.”

“Eight is a number sacred to the worshippers of decay and disease. I should have known weeks ago this was their doing. Chapter Masters lead the major pods. Like captain's, but on a much larger scale. Salamanders can and will set anything on fire. Which is what we'll need to do.. and where is that… Where is Pollux? He is a Son of Dorn, but will know the danger of the situation and help me in calling for the necessary people.”

“Hold on! No one is setting anything on fire! worshippers of what now?” You were delighted to get confirmation that the different pods of Astartes did in fact communicate with one another more than the occasional snarling hiss exchange with the bright yellow and black astartes who was partners with Doctor Smithson, another member of your conservation team. You still didn’T know who Dorn - nor Perturabo - was. Neither wanted to elaborate. “How would belief cause destruction?”

“... I will explain when I can, my heart. But this is too dangerous, too urgent to pause for explanations. That reef and all those afflicted animals will need to be killed and burnt. To avoid further contamination. As will all of the samples taken. The risk to everyone is too high, even if the samples are kept in lab conditions for study. This is no mere illness in the waters caused by simple waste, temperature or salinity changes. It's far worse. More sinister and deliberate.” Sirass warned before yellowing at the top of his lungs “POLLUX YOU UGLY YELLOW BASTARD! WE HAVE A MAJOR PROBLEM!”

Seconds later Pollux entered the room, scowling. So did most of the conservation team, all looking puzzled. The Imperial fist asked impatiently “What is it now, Iron Warrior?”

“Doctor Alenfil was nearly killed by a Nurgling when it bit through his air tank.” Sirass stated.

Pollux swore explosively in a dozen languages, as he started reaching for his helmet. “This is catastrophic! We should coordinate on who is calling which chapter master.”

“You speak with the Carrion-Worshippers, and I'll handle the Chaos-aligned.” Sirass suggested.

“He is not- you know what? I'm not getting into an argument with you over his holiness, not when we have a budding Garden of Blight on our hands.” Pollux hissed.  Both astartes swam off together, voices tense and unhappy.

The rest of the conservation team descend on you, and you answer their questions to the best of your abilities.

[bomberqueen17]

Big Easy

I am on vacation this week in New Orleans. There are many reasons for this but mostly they're not about me. I'm just here for the ride. Hilariously the one thing I found on on my own that I was like "oh i gotta do that while we're here" is also the thing that has been recommended to me by literally everyone i've spoken to including the Lyft driver from the airport, which is the WWII Museum, and conversely the more people recommend it the more I'm like :/ I might not enjoy this that much. WWII history was a childhood hyperfixation of mine but I've found the shit I was into about it is not the stuff other people like about it. This museum features a movie narrated by Tom Hanks so I feel like it's going to mm emphasize the bits I don't care about a lot. BUT I am going to go and I am probably going to devote a whole day. The upside of this is that probably Dude will not be deadly bored by it. He does tend to have the issue of not being into what I'm into sometimes... but this will probably be fine.

My hip is doing okay, the one I've been physically therapizing for ages? But what's popped up is that as the bad hip heals, the "good" hip starts giving me trouble-- I have prettty bad sciatic nerve problems on that side, and I didn't notice them so much because the cartilage tear on the bad side hurt enough to distract me. But lately it's like-- a little electric current of Badness inside the back of my right knee. No fun. But I've been doing physical therapy exercises for about fifteen weeks now (I just counted), three times a week, so I'd damn well better have seen some improvement LOL.

But mostly I can walk around, and I have a better idea earlier on whether walking is going to be good for me or not, so idk it's progress.

So far I have had a few bites of a shrimp po'boy (in the Atlanta airport, where we ordered something else and the waitress didn't hear us and just brought better food, no regrets on our part), some amazing gumbo, a bit of really good crawfish etouffe, and a really good Hurricane cocktail, and have seen the steamboat Natchez going up the MIssissippi with a brass band playing on it. Oh yeah there was a live band at the baggage claim? Apparently there were Many Doings in the French Quarter last night because of Cinco de Mayo, our Lyft driver was explaining they'd barricaded a bunch of the streets and she was delighted they'd moved one barricade because otherwise she could not have dropped us at our hotel. But by the later evening when we were out and about it wasn't quite so crowded but there were police cars and sirens and apparently some kind of disturbance a couple blocks away from our hotel. We kept walking because whatever it was was Not Our Business.

I'm mostly here for the food. I brought mostly me-made clothes. I was wearing a nice button-up shirt to fly in, and i sat at the gate during our layover and hand-bound two of the last three buttonholes on it (I'd cut and overcasted them at home but ran out of time). Relaxing and chill, honestly.

There are a couple of fabric stores I want to visit but apart from that I have zero agenda. Maybe Dude came up with something. I think he's mostly been researching restaurants.

I did not expect this, though: I know the names of so many of the places here from the news coverage of Katrina, and when I saw the Superdome in person i started crying, and had to explain to the driver that I'd been an airport bartender during that time and so had been stuck in front of huge TVs with 24h live coverage, and I'd had a bunch of online friends living there and I didn't realize until this moment how much it scarred me, so I could only imagine for the people here, and she talked about how she'd been a cleaner in an apartment complex at the time (I'd sussed that she was my age or older so I figured she'd remember it as well as I do, because to my shock that was 20 years ago now) and how many people had just left and never come back, had abandoned their possessions and just never came back for them because the power didn't come back on for two or three months.

She said "Now I know, when they tell you to evacuate, you get the hell out."

She also complained that nobody knows how to act, because it's all tourists. Which, fair.

... Anyway, anyone with recs for New Orleans feel free to tell them to me, I'm just here for the food and the vibes.