#it's not hard to put a small line somewhere saying where you got your things from

[dresspheres]

a small reminder to please credit me somewhere on your blog if I've asked for it. it takes 2 seconds to reblog the original post with a credits tag or to add a line into your rules saying 'hey, the icons I use are from here' with a link to the original post. liking the post doesn't count as credit.

[feyburner]

I ??? woke up at 3am with this scene fully written in my mind palace and quickly jotted it down in the Notes app

*

Clark’s shaking his head before he realizes he’s doing it, and feels a twinge of embarrassment at his own bad manners when Bruce stops mid-word to look at him, brows raised.

“No?” he says.

“No,” Clark says, again without thinking, and again with the reflexive urge to apologize. Somewhere his mother is tutting without knowing why. But he doesn’t apologize, because he’s already saying, “No, it can’t—it can’t be that.”

“Okay,” Bruce says slowly. “Can you elaborate?”

He is, honestly, having trouble taking his eyes off the screen. The mockup design of his new suit is there, dark and sleek, ridged like tactical gear. The blue is like the last shade of evening before you can’t call it evening anymore, the color of nine PM in Kansas in July, so exact there’s a strong chance Bruce color-picked it from a photo. The yellow accents are the cool fluorescent yellow-green of lightning bugs. The red is dark as arterial blood. Every aspect of the suit has been updated—the colors deeper, the angles sharper, the S extending to the corners of its frame—but Bruce has done it without changing the fundamentals. It’s immediately recognizable as the Superman suit, just… well, a little cooler, maybe. A little more of the times. Even the tailoring is modernized. The neckline. The shape of the boots. Where the belt hits at the waist. Clark can tell just by looking that Bruce has not only spent a lot of time on this in general, he’s spent a lot of time designing it specifically with Clark in mind, Clark’s needs and preferences and the small discomforts of his current suit, things he might have mentioned offhand after a mission but never with the assumption that Bruce was listening or filing it away. No doubt the next slides of this presentation will detail all the hidden features of the new suit, and they’ll all be incredibly thoughtful if not slightly overkill, and Bruce will pretend his sole motive here was practicality and risk reduction and respond to any thanks with a curt nod.

And Clark wants to thank him. He will. It’s just.

“It can’t be… cool,” he says, inane. Bruce is watching him with that steady look that used to feel clinical, piercing, and now mostly reads as attentive. “It can’t be—like yours. Tactical, military-grade.”

“Lightyears beyond, actually.”

“It has to—Ma said once, a kid should be able to draw it with crayons. You know? I can’t look like a weapon. I have to—I want to look like a friend.”

He can feel himself flushing. It’s rare that he speaks like this, and rarer still that he does so while being stared at intently. Bruce may think of himself as the darkness, but his gaze is a spotlight: unwavering and revealing and more a little sweat-inducing, for one reason or another.

“Sometimes, when I show up, people laugh,” Clark says. “If it’s somewhere out of the way, where they haven’t seen me before. I show up and I look like a festival performer. It’ll be the worst day of their lives, and they’ve got no reason to trust my face, but when they see what I’m wearing—it goes from ‘Who are you?’ to ‘Who is this guy?’ And that’s a good thing.”

“Hard to be afraid of a man dressed in primary colors,” Bruce says, almost to himself.

“Exactly.”

“I see. Thank you,” he says, “for explaining.”

Clark tries not to show how surprised he is to hear that. Judging by the crook of Bruce’s mouth, his success is negligible. “Of course. Sorry I didn’t—I mean, thank you, obviously, for going to such trouble. I didn’t mean to come in here and—I really do appreciate it, I can tell you put a lot of work in—”

Bruce’s eyes cut away. “No. No need. I didn’t ask, before I…. It was only a first draft. If you’re amenable, I’ll incorporate your feedback into the second one.”

“Oh! Yeah. Yes, of course, but you really don’t have to—”

“If you have any further notes, I would like to hear them.”

There’s something determined in the lines of his face. Clark has the sense that this moment is important, that it’s a turning point, even if he’s not sure why. It feels like striking out into a sea of ice, a blank white expanse under which something precious and vital is hidden, has been hidden all along, just waiting for him to find it. To want to.

“Sure,” he says. He looks back at the suit and swallows, and knows Bruce will see the flicker of his throat and take some meaning from it, and wishes he knew what the meaning was. Or maybe Bruce won’t notice or read into it at all. Maybe Clark needs to calm down, in fact. “Um. I don’t want to assume, but does it… do things?”

“It does things,” Bruce confirms, after the barest pause. “Let me show you the next slide.”

[pretzel-box]

God i need a part 3 to Sunkissed where we eventually get to meet him in his beautiful fishy glory

Bonus points if the reader says something along the lines of "You're as beautiful as the day i lost you" because that line goes so hard

SEQUEL TO SUNKISSED AND MOONBLINDED

Tags: Angst, gn!reader, mentions of attempted suicide

Words: 1k

Authors note: No >:) Maybe next part!

Sebastian had been hiding in the shadows, wedged into a tight crevice between rusted metal pipes, his fluorescent blue eyes glowing faintly in the darkness. He could see your form through a narrow gap, standing in the empty hallway, your back halfway to him and you still looked as beautiful as the day they took him from you. The faint light of the ceiling lamps casted a silver light down on you, making you look like bathed in glittering starlight. You stood still, almost frozen in place,like you were waiting for something or someone. Him, he realized with a pang of guilt.

“To be honest, I pretended it wasn’t a big thing that you died,” you said suddenly, breaking the silence with some words that must have been heavy on your tongue. Your voice echoed slightly in the empty space, soft yet clear, like you were confessing a secret you had kept for too long. Sebastian stiffened. You knew he was there, somewhere in the darkness, listening to every word you will say.

“I did it for your family's sake,” you continued, your voice steady but tinged with a sadness that was impossible to hide. “I couldn’t break down in front of them when they needed someone to keep them afloat.” Sebastian watched as your hands trembled, clenching and unclenching at your sides. The fingernails were digging uncomfortably into the flesh of your palms. You were trying so hard to stay strong, to keep up that cheerful front you always wore around him. It broke his heart.

He wanted to speak, to tell you he was here, but his voice was caught in his throat. How could he face you? After all that had happened, after what he had become. He was ashamed of how he looked now, the monstrous appearance he had taken on to survive in this godforsaken place. He couldn’t bear the thought of you seeing him like this. He would rather die than scar you with the memory of his newfound appearance.

“But it was anything but easy,” you said, your voice cracking slightly, still talking to the endless void. “It broke my heart.” You took a deep breath, your shoulders sagging under the weight of your own words. A small silence filled the space now before you continued with a pained hesitation. “I tried to… I stood in the waves, you know… And I tried to keep walking into them, but I got scared… I got so unbelievably scared of not being alive anymore.”

Sebastian’s chest tightened painfully at your words. The message hit him instantly as he realized what you meant. He could see the tears welling up in your eyes, could feel the tremor in your voice. You had always been so strong, so brave, and now here you were, breaking down in front of him, and he couldn’t do anything to help you. He felt like the coward he always feared he was.

“I was terrified, Sebastian,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. The words hit him like a physical blow, and he felt his own tears begin to form. “I was terrified of what you must have felt when they wanted to kill you.”

Sebastian’s hand twitched at his side as his eyes widened in another moment of realization. No matter what situation you were in, you still had the habit of putting him first. He wanted to reach out, to touch you, to pull you into his arms and tell you everything would be okay. But he couldn’t move. He was paralyzed by his own fear, his own shame. How could he comfort you when he couldn’t even face himself?

He watched as you stood there, alone in the dim lights, waiting for him. The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, an endless chasm between the two of you. He wanted to close the distance, to take that first step, but his tail felt like lead.

He could hear your breathing, shaky and uneven, and it tore at him. He wanted to scream, to shout that he was here, that he had never truly left you. But his voice was gone, stolen by the fear that held him captive.

You finally turned, looking toward the shadows where you knew he was hiding. “Sebastian… please,” you whispered, your voice broken, pleading. “I need to see you. I need to know you’re real.”

And for a moment, just a moment, he almost did it. He almost stepped out of the darkness and into the light. But then the fear crashed over him again, a tidal wave of doubt and shame. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t face you, not like this.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, though he knew you couldn’t hear him. “I’m so sorry…”

He watched as your shoulders slumped, the last of your strength seeming to drain away. You took a shaky breath, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “I’ll come back,” you said quietly, more to yourself than to him. “I’ll come back tomorrow, and the day after that… until you’re ready. I promise.”

And with that, you turned and walked away, your footsteps echoing down the hallway until they faded into a painful silence. Sebastian watched you go, his heart aching with every step you took and he cursed himself in the comfort of his own mind. He wanted to call out to you, to beg you to come back, but the words wouldn’t come.

He was left alone in the darkness, the weight of his own fear pressing down on him like a heavy shroud. He didn’t know how long he stood there, staring at the spot where you had disappeared. All he knew was that he had to find the courage to face you, to make things right.

Because if he didn’t, he knew he would lose you forever.

Sebastian sank to the ground, tears streaming down his face as he finally let go of the emotions he had buried for so long. His chest heaved with sobs that echoed through the empty hallway, his body trembling with the force of his grief. The shame, the fear, the guilt—everything crashed over him in waves, drowning him in a sea of sorrow. He buried his face in his hands, his three blue eyes wet with tears. “I’m sorry,” he choked out between sobs, his voice breaking. “I’m so, so sorry…” His heart ached, knowing he’d pushed away the one person he loved most.

“Please, come back…”

[scififettuccine]

A Wild Fix: Part 1.5?

Pairing: Platonic!Butcher x Supe!Reader

Summary: 3 weeks into your alliance with The Boys, you and Butcher go through the Vought Database. Butcher being curious about a Supe he's never heard of leads him to put together a plan that's less than safe. But does he listen to your warnings? Of course not.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Exposition, mentions of casinos, mention of suicide

Notes: Hey ya'll! Long time no see! You're probably wondering what the fuck this is. As you may have noticed I haven't posted anything in a few days. This is because when I got into writing Part 2, it became A LOT more complex and involved than I intended, including new characters and a sharp left turn in the story line that I didn't plan. Considering the results from the pole, I figured no one would really be mad if I did this. Part 1.5 is A LOT of exposition, setting up the actual second installment of the series. I could have made Part 2 longer, but it was way past how many words I wanted to have in each installment. I didn't want to call this an actual part two, because this alone isn't long enough to qualify as its own part, so...✨1.5✨ As you can most likely tell, I'm not following the canon plot exactly, I find that to be EXTREMELY boring. I know it's something that some people don't love, but at the end of the day it's creative writing and I enjoy doing it. Here is a link to Part 1 if you missed it! The official part 2 of A Wild Fix will be out very soon, but for now, enjoy this expositional interlude from our good lad, William Butcher.

It was safe to say that, since your first meeting? You and Frenchie didn’t get along very well. You had been running with The Boys for almost a month now, yet the two of you couldn’t agree on a single thing. But honestly? That didn't really matter to you. He didn't seem like the kind of person you wanted to be close with, anyway.

You had adjusted pretty well to this double standard of life, working for Vought, and working with The Boys. You were very careful, and there hadn’t been any close calls…yet. As for adjusting to the basement hideout? That didn't necessarily get any easier. You had carved out a little spot for yourself in one of the less occupied corners, just big enough to set your computer down, and maybe put a cup of coffee off to the side. And at the moment, that's where you sat. Working out time to help out wasn’t very hard. You were a member of The Seven, yes, but due to your powers, you were more of an alternate. You still went to meetings, and you still lived in the tower, you just weren't sent out as much. Butcher had requested that you dig into a few things for him in the Vought database. The Vought database had become available to you since you signed the contract with the company. It didn’t contain anything majorly world shattering, just some more detailed info on every Supe that had ever been involved with the company, including deceased, and currently active Supes. The info pages almost reminded you of trading cards, you laughed to yourself at the thought. It almost made you wonder why Vought hadn’t cashed in on some sort of trading card game.

“Something funny, love?” Butcher asked. You could see him approaching from behind in the reflection of your laptop screen.

“Yeah, actually…” You said, beckoning him over. Butcher crouched down next to your chair, looking at the computer screen. “Don’t those stats kinda look like trading cards? I mean, even the way it’s set up. Surprised Vought hasn’t cashed in on that yet.” Butcher raised a brow and leaned a bit closer to the screen, letting out a small ‘hmph’ sound. 

“You’re not wrong.” He examined the screen for a moment. “So you can see every Supe that's ever been involved with the company?” You nodded.

“For the most part, yes. But usually if there's anything they need to hide, the Supe goes to whoever runs the database and asks for that piece of information to be taken off of it. It’s actually in the contract somewhere, in the fine print, if I remember.” Butcher gave a small hum of acknowledgement.

“So if I had to guess, Homelander doesn't even have a file?” He asked. You narrowed your eyes towards the screen as you clicked out of the file you were on, and searched Homelander’s name in the top bar. When the file came up, you clicked it. Low and behold…? Not much. Just his in-company stats, The Seven logo, showing his affiliation with the group, and the year he had been signed onto the company. 

“Yeah…nothing much. Most of The Seven are like this, actually. If I remember correctly…” You clicked out of Homelander’s file, and clicked on the search bar again. You went to type in ‘Maeve,’ but Butcher stopped you, placing his finger over one of the file cards on the screen.

“Who’s that bloke?” He asked. You raised a brow and moved his finger out of the way. He had been pointing to a file card for the Supe named Mixer, who belonged to a new Vought owned Supe team that had been gaining steam recently…Residency. Vought had always sort of branded it as the new age Payback, but it was more of a marketing thing. The Supes on the team were legit, powerful, and some of them popular…But it definitely wasn't anything close to Payback. Mixer, admittedly, was one of the more known Supe’s on the team. He had been a musician first, gaining popularity from his young start in the industry. And as soon as Vought could get its bloodstained hands on the poor guy? He was signed on. Now? He had a residency at Planet Vought Casino & Resort in Las Vegas, and a spot in Residency.

“That's Mixer. He’s around my age, I think…Super popular in the music industry.” You explained, clicking on his file card.

“You know’im?” He asked. You shook your head as you scrolled through his file. 

“I met him at a convention a few years back, around this time of year actually…He seemed kinda full of himself. He has a residency now, though, kinda ironic, at Vought’s casino in Las Vegas.” You explained. Butcher nodded, clearly thinking.

“How is it ironic?” He asked.

“Mixer is part of a Supe team too, but the team is called Residency. So I thought it was kinda funny that he had an actual residency-” Butcher cut you off.

“Another Supe team? Owned by Vought?” You nodded.

“Yeah. It's him, Klepto, Bloodshot, Laugh Track, Void-” Butcher cut you off again, before you could even finish naming the members.

“The convention you met him at…Was it a Supe convention?” 

“Yeah. But not like the crazy fan ones. It's by invite only. All of Voughts Supes go, it’s a huge event. They invite new, upcoming Supes, and Vought investors. It’s a 3 day affair. They usually hold it at the Casino location that's here in the city, though, not the one in Vegas.” You turned your head to look at him, narrowing your eyes. What was he thinking?

“You said it was around this time of year?” He asked, turning the laptop towards himself so he could scroll.

“Yeah, usually towards the middle of fall…Why do you ask?” You raised a brow.

“I’m assuming you're invited?” He asked, the smirk on his face growing.

“Yeah, like I said, most contracted Supes are there. Annie is going too, we kinda have to…You’re not thinking what I think you are…right?” You asked, narrowing your eyes once again.

“That's exactly what I’m thinking, love.” He chuckled and stood up. “A whole casino full of Supes and Vought officials? That's practically an information gold mine. And with your connections? We’re bound to uncover something. Do you get a plus one or anythin like’at?”

“I’m pretty sure contracted Supes get two guest passes, but this is out of the question, Butcher. Digging at a Vought run Supe convention? It’s suicide for anyone involved.” You said, closing your computer. This wasn't a good idea, not even in the slightest.

“So if both you and Hughie’s girl go, that's four guest passes between the two of you?” He asked.

“Yes but-” Butcher cut you off before you could protest.

“Just enough passes for Hughie, MM, Frenchie, and meself. It’s settled, then, love.” Butcher gave a smug smile and patted your shoulder. You cringed internally. Butcher wouldn’t take no for an answer…and you didn’t favor the idea of being on his bad side.

 If you were caught, no, if any of you were caught snooping around at this convention? You’d be dead before you could leave the building…or worse.

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

And that's the end of my exposition bomb. Again, Part 2 is coming very soon, and I'm sorry that I had to break it up like this. This series became more involved than intended, as you can probably see. More information regarding Residency and its significance is to come👀 Stay tuned to get back to your regularly scheduled Frenchie x Reader content <3 Adieu!

teeny tiny taglist: @llynx7 @stinkysam

[shadowsndaisies]

dogfighting 101: 02 - let's rock and roll

wc: 1k

synopsis: It's been a long time since I rock and rolled, It's been a long time since I did the stroll, Ooh let me get it back, let me get it back, Let me get it back, baby, where I come from

main masterlist

athena-verse master post

“Anyone got eyes on Maverick?” you ask, eyes scanning both your radar and the terrain too.

“No visual,” Harvard confirms.

“He’s here somewhere,” you note and then you realize.

Never only think what’s expected, kid. 360 degrees, all the time It’s something your dad told you were little, he and Ice, they wanted to teach you lessons to help you, things they learned too late. Little tests, quizzes, making sure you were well prepared for whatever life threw at you. Part of you was positive that Ice always knew where you’d end up.

Keeping that lesson in mind, you decide to change your perspective.

“Athena!” Yale’s shout echoes when you invert, a slow roll, completely safe, but not anticipated by your teammates.

Of course, your hunch pays off when you spot your dad from where he'd been shadowing you from below the hard deck, below your radars reach.

“How’s it hanging, old man?” you ask, smiling under your mask, looking through the canopy at him.

“You’re catching on to my tricks too quick, kid,” he throws back and you can practically hear the smirk.

There's a “Oh shit,” over the line from Harvard, but you shake your head as your dad comes up ahead of you both and you flip back once again.

“I know you too well, Sir,” you offer in response.

“Let’s to put that to the test,” he says, “time to turn and burn aviators, fights on!”

He shoots up and you spare another look at the foxtrot team on your right.

“Break right, Yale,” you shout over the line as you peel off left trying to find your Dad again.

“Breaking right,” he confirms.

You both loop around and eventually you find him, he’s already on your ass and you’re trying to shake him off.

“Tally Tally, he’s on your four-side Athena,” Harvard shouts.

“I see him!” you confirm increasing your throttle and turning up in an attempt to loop back around.

Your dad though, is hard to lose.

“I can’t shake him,” you huff, eyes squinting down as you pull evasive maneuvers.

“Athena, how long would you need to get tone?” Yale’s question comes suddenly, and you spot him looping back around, you see the move he’s planning to make, the way he’s positioning himself.

“Not long,” you assure him.

“Get ready to Rock and Roll,” Yale decides.

“I hate the Rock and Roll,” Harvard mutters, and you can’t help the small chuckle that slips out.

“Would you prefer the Do-Si-Do?” you ask, amusement shining through as you turn to set your self up.

“Fuck, no, and you fucking know it,” Harvard denies vehemently, you can hear Yale laugh as you finally get yourself right where you want to be.

“I’m ready to Rock,” you confirm and suddenly you stop the evasive maneuvers.

“Then let’s Roll!” Yale shouts, shooting up.

You, on the other hand, straighten out, and right before Maverick can get tone, Yale dives down in a controlled but fast barrel roll in the gap between you both, it’s not the tightest gap, easily manageable, but enough to give Mav pause, and while Harvard and Yale slowed to avoid the hard deck, you accelerate straight up and then tip back in a vertical roll, it pulls more G’s than you’d expected during your first training run of the detachment, but you manage to level out and get tone on your dad.

Unfortunately your tone comes right after your dad caught Harvard and Yale.

“Shit,” you huff, dejected as Yale pulls up parallel to you.

“Shit,” Mav agrees, flanking your other side, though he sounds more impressed than anything else.

“Harvard, Yale, go see Hondo about your push-ups,” Mav calls, and the foxtrot team starts their descent. “Athena,” he calls, and your gaze jumps out the canopy and at your dad. He hits the glass, pulling his mask off and offering you a rare smile, real and proud, like he did at your high school graduation. “Not bad, Kid,” he says and you smile despite yourself, beginning your own descent.

Harvard, Yale, Hangman, Phoenix, and Bob are all stood on the tarmac when you land.

“I have a need,” Yale yells holding up his hands as you get out of your plane.

You roll your eyes but play along, “A need for speed!” you shout, high-fiving him and then Harvard who was stood behind his pilot.

“Not bad, ‘Thena,” Hangman drawls, a twinkle in his eyes.

“Don’t be too sad when you don’t get tone, Hangman, we always knew I was the better pilot,” you smirk, winking at him as you walk past.

You shake your head walking with Brigham and Yale, and when they stop by Hondo, you do too.

“You got tone, Athena, no push-ups for you,” Hondo says, frowning when you ditch your vest and gear, rolling your flight suit down and dropping to the ground in line with Harvard and Yale who had already done the same.

“I did,” you confirm, taking a plank beside the two men.

“Athena,” it’s Yale’s voice this time, looking at you with what can only be described as fondness, but also exasperation.

“We’re a team, you got shot down, we all do push-ups,” you say seriously. Then you turn to look up at Hondo, “on your count, Hondo,” you prompt.

“Hold that!” the evident smirk in the voice had your held tilting up and there was your dad. “A deal’s a deal, kid. You got tone, I owe 200 pushups,” your dad smirked down at you, as he dropped to the ground on the other side of you.

“You sure you can manage that? You’re getting up there in years,” you tease.

“Ice would have your head if he heard you age-shaming me,” he shoots back.

“Ice would laugh and join me,” you challenge.

Your dad simply smiles in defeat, turning to Hondo, “like the kid said, on your count, Hondo.”

“If you insist,” he nods, and then, “Down! One! Two! Three!” and the count went on, the four of you doing your push-ups.

...

everything: @butterfly-skinnylegend

athena’s tags: @omgbrianab @smoothdogsgirl @bazellawriz @sbrewer21 @inky-sun @djs8891 @rory-cakes @geeksareunique @je6291

[s1ckh1mb0]

Country boy dio! who only loves his sweetheart and their little family.

__________________________________________

Who convinced you to come live with him on the farm. He spends every day workin hard on it. Dealing with all the animals, workin in that hot sun all day. Harsh tan lines turning his once pale skin a golden bronze. His blonde hair slicked back into his mullet. Sweat sticking to his skin from the past four hours of him barreling hay to keep everything in pristine condition so you didn't have to worry about a thing.

It had been such a long time since he had left his piece of shit to rot in his loneliness. Once his dear mom had passed and things started to get bad between him and his dad he left and didn’t look bad. He started doing any work he could to get. He went from dealing to helpin in some different shops doing just about everything. Within the years he had fucked up and had four kids. He loved them even if he knew he didn’t have means to care for them. He did his damned best to make sure they had what they need before he had anything.

Shit was hard for a hot minute. That was he stumbled across an elderly couple who were saying how they needed to get rid of their old farm but had no one that even wanted to look at it. He couldn’t help but jump at the opportunity. It was hard for the first two years but him and the kids had somewhere warm to stay. He ended up confiding in Jonathan who felt like it was his duty to help Dio. He ended up talking to some friends and spread word around about Dio’s work and soon enough people were coming to him for just about everything. Business was booming all year round.

He never expected any kind of success, just wanting to make enough to get by but this was amazing to him. But he did have a problem, having four little boys was not easy. Especially when he went out to the city to restock on stuff. Ungalo and Rikiel were both over hyper and god it was hard to keep up. They would run around the store like they would back on the farm. Dio would always scold them but this time he couldn’t because he was as actually glad they did since that led him to meeting you.

He had noticed they ran away once again and when he saw them they were in your arms as you asked them where their parents where. He was shook by your looks. The way your clothes fit, huggin you nicely. The books you were once holding now pressed against his chest. He could see the dermal piercings on your chest peeking out your shirt. It was so new to him and god be moved it.

He snapped out of it when he saw the boys pointing at him and he had to rush over while still holding Giorno and Donatello.

“M’ so sorry bout that. These two given me hell.”

“Don’t worry bout it, I got siblings I know how it is. You and mama must have your hands full.”

“Nah s’ just me.”

“Oh shit, my bad hun. Didn’t mean to like be insensitive.”

“No no, don’t worry doll.”

You smiled a bit at the name as you handed off Ungalo and Rikiel to him.

“I’ll see you around I’m hoping?”

“Yeah, most definitely.”

———————————————————————

“Pa! S’ getting too hot out here. Come in the house!”

He turned around when he heard your voice. He put his pitchfork down and took in the sight of you standing on the porch. You looked so fucking good. Your curls were framing your face, your plump lips with a small frown due to you hating how the sun was beaming against you. Dio loved it though, seeing it bounce off your moisturized skin. And you of course weren’t by yourself no. You had his- you guys four little boys. Giorno on your hip, rikiel standing next to you and holding on your leg, and ungalo chasing Donatello all around the porch.

He wanted to marry you then and there. You accepted his four boys and raised them like you had given birth to them. And the boys loved you like no other. Often fighting with their papa to get your attention. Rikiel and Giorno were especially bad. They absolutely adored you. And dio hated to admit it but he sometimes grew jealous at how much you babied the boys.

He made his way over to you when he realized you were still callin out to him. A small smirk appearing on his face as he approached you.

“Miss me, doll?”

You didn’t even get to respond when Donatello and Ungalo tackled their father into a hug. They only 6 and 7 but they were damn big boys just like they daddy. He chuckled as he picked them up into his arms as if they weighed nothing.

“Y’ four bein good for ya mama/papa, huh?”

Rikiel was the first one to speak up, peeking from behind your legs.

“Ma/pa said you were gonna take us t’ the city! And that we were gonna see TiTi Erina and Uncle Jonny!”

Dio cocked an eyebrow at this which caused you to explain.

“Erina called earlier while I was cookin. It’s lil Lisa Lisa’s birthday tomorrow. Wan’ take the boys to see their cousin. Plus I could do some shoppin while we’re out there. Get the boys some new clothes. Same f’ myself. Like to look good f’ my man.”

Dio couldn’t help but chuckle at your last comment. He also took notice at how his accent was starting to rub off on you.

“Yeah alright, guess m’ takin you four t’ the city after all.”

Amid the kids cheering Dio had leaned down to plant a kiss on your glossy lips. But the kiss was cut short when a tiny hand tugged at Dio’s hair. It was none other than his youngest boy Giorno. The mini version of him, they were so alike even though he was only a mere two years old.

“Y’ lil brat, can’t hog ‘em all to y’self.”

He was only met with babbles from Giorno which made you chuckle.

“Protective jus’ like his daddy.”

“Hmph. Guess he is.”

His smile grew on his face as he watched you usher the boys into the house. God he loved you more than life itself…

Part 2 coming soon!

[green-sky-smoke]

Reader asks Husk about his ideal date. (~1300 words)

"My ideal date, huh? The one where i win all your money in poker." He laughs, and smiles at you firmly, his eyes pierce at you warmly, like he was looking at nostalgic show, on old, thick tv screen, in worst quality possible. "Bring me cards, hun, i shall do a little," he waves palms happily, "magic! Watch future, how good your chances are." He laughs purringly. Then his smile and cheerful look dissolves. He's never like this for long. "But if you don't plan it... Honestly, i'm not really used to dates. I'm not interested in flowers and fancy dinners, i saw enough of them. I am a man of simple pleasures. I have booze here, why don't just stay where we are?" he tilts his head a little, with catlike grace and elegance, expecting you to nod. And then you both hear something heavy, loudly falling on the floor, and a lot of swears and arguing. His ears press on his head from the sudden noise.

"Well. That's why. We may go somewhere." He sights, annoyed. Husk is frowning, looking in almost empty bottle, like lines of light and reflections on emerald glass will say something his drunk brain stubbornly refuses. He tries very hard to think it out, but he got solid brain fog.

"How about... Well..." he is really lost in his own thoughts. You can almost see how his neurons try to reach one another, but fail miserably, and pain gently swipes them away. "How about... About..."

No. Date isn't a game, it's when you entertained enough being with someone. Not a game. You did games everyday, Husk, what make date unique if it just another playful robbery? Date is not another gambling game, loss of big money and property. Especially not of someone who you like. Maybe you can both play and share loss, or win, playing together and not against each other... But against anyone else? Hm. Would be nice to offer it later, if he won't forget.

He hasn't had any sugarcoated romantic fantasies in a long time, and his brain rejected him creating some now, when he got someone interesting enough. The most interesting thing was just looking at your confused, annoyed face, and just any negative emotion. He felt better sometimes, seeing unhappy faces, when he is himself aren't happy at all about where it all ended for him. Husk hunched over the table, puzzled. Looks like he completely zoned out.

Most of all, he enjoys spending time together, calmly, not in a fight. Table games where he can bluff and laugh at someone's bad strategies and skill, or hand motorics. Magic tricks and spectacular shows. Gently massages and some cuddling. Sleeping and resting, doing nothing. He doesn't like very pricy places, or sports. He isn't most complex person, so it's quite a mystery for him why you would have interest in alcoholic with ludomania who likes to mock you lovingly, or insult. It's kinda easy when he presented with people insecurities every day, every year, when they can't shut up about it, and any anecdotes happening. He could write dissertation about it.

"Cheap, and funny." He chuckled, as your face becomes a little disappointed. "What? Not the answer you wanted?" He smiled, a bit smug. He enjoys your confusion, and how you try to think of questions to to clarify exactly what he wants, when you know that he won't reply long, he mostly gives you very vague answers that tells nothing at most.

"Let me tell you a thing, boo... Planning perfect dates is the most useless thing to do. Life is always unpredictable, chaotic, troubled and hard in hell. Situations always change, your mood, your tastes, you never the same person as day, or hour ago. You never know. If you hunt perfection, perfect place, perfect person, perfect reaction, day and time, you will end up miserable. And... You can try small things and be happy with surprises from this chaotic universe we live in, being constantly amazed how bad you are at fortune-telling!" He spreads his arms with enthusiasm, and then puts them down, waving one. He takes an indifferent sip of alcohol. "Or whatever. I don't care." He for a moment forgets what he wanted to add. Seems like he forgets that you're here too, too entertained with looking at same bottles, as if he was in an elite art gallery. His head migraine felt as if brain is expanding like the universe, right in his skull, and it is about to crack, while he won't be able to say anything intelligible or catch a coherent thought. He needs time to frown. You just look at him, wanting to stroke him. He looks so soft and fluffy, but you can't tell a moment you can do it.

"There isn't such a thing i would call a 'perfect date'. But there is 'it wasn't so bad as i expected'." he says before another long pause. He is clearly thinking hard, trying to scratch words off the walls of the skull, that hit him with an electric shock for any touch. His body was sometimes a real prison, making him worse person, who can really, really never leave for long.

"There may be all things i can enjoy to a point of addiction, but i would just act as grumpy ass until you take me there, waving booze, fists, threats, and i would know how enjoyable this is only after." He smiles and cackles, a bit annoyed and a bit self-ironic. He knows his brain and mood tricks pretty well, but believes he don't really need or can change a thing. He hates it, but he wouldn't wish to be anyone else. "It all seem too boring, overrated, overpriced and annoying to me when i think about it. I can find all reasons to not go anywhere and not move at all. Im in the point of life where it's really hard to find joy and eagerly seek things. You know?" He shrugs. "Go on, i don't mind, if you can bear with me constantly rejecting anything im not used to, and being grumpy old growler. It may at some point end as perfect date i would be sad to forget." He looks at you, like he doesn't really believe it, but willing to let you try. It doesn't matter to him, he will suffer each way in same amount, you wouldn't make it much worse than Alastor. " ...Or not. Who the hell knows. Maybe you will have patience to make some use of such boring, forever grudging and mean demon. Im not the best choice, and it will only make you pathetic to try make impossible work." You smile, finally out of confusion. He just invited you to annoy him, how sweet. You bend over to him and hold out your hand. He doesn't understand your gesture, so he just hand you some heavy bottle of some sweet, sparkling tonic for cocktails. You move the bottle to the table, and you put your hand on his. It suprised him, but he smiled at this micro-miscommunication, and places other hand over your. Old cats are playful too. And no cat will reject some good, pricy food and quiet place to see all things, not just hear behind the bar table. "Well, you are the strongest creative source of new things in my life for now." He smiles faintly. Maybe he was completely sarcastic. "So, take care of yourself. I can't appreciate you most times, but it would be loss for all hell. And i think you didn't drink in a while, so you need some liquid more than hold my hand, dumdum." He gets his hand out of your warm touch, and moves the bottle almost in your face. "Or shall I shake it for you?" He laughs. Husk believes you totally can use some foam of wrath in your face too.

[coffeeghoulie]

Mushy May Day 18: Holding Hands

Aeon and Swiss cannot get enough of each other.

Thank you to @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together, and thank you to @ghuleh-recs for the dividers! <3

It's the first kind skin on skin contact Aeon's ever had. They fall in line with Cirrus and Swiss at the end of every Ritual, lacing their fingers with theirs as they take their bows.

It's not like they hadn't been touched Up Top before. There have been gentle hands on shoulders and at the small of their back, over clothes but still so kind and so gentle. After what Aeon's been through, it's intoxicating. Aeon, a little skittish still, so used to being alone and unsafe, drinks in every moment of contact they can get.

They squeeze Cirrus and Swiss's hands in front of the screaming crowds, and the skin to skin feels like fire. The first time Aeon experienced it, they'd keened at the feeling of Swiss's hand absolutely engulfing theirs, and their hands aren't exactly small.

It's cold when they part, making their way backstage to change and head back to the bus, just to do it again the next night. As exhausting as touring is, Aeon's not looking forward to the cold when it ends, when they think that the excuse for skin to skin stops.

But it doesn't stop. They fall in with Swiss as the tour progresses, thoroughly enamored with the multi ghoul. He's touchy on the best of days, and some days he's downright clingy. Aeon spends most of their days now absolutely drunk on affection. There is no shortage of Swiss's touch, especially as they spend night after night in their shared hearth, Aeon's own room going empty and bare.

They get knowing looks from the other ghouls. Aether and Dew are the worst offenders.

"Yeah, yeah, yap it up," Swiss teases the two of them as he's snuggled up to Aeon on one of the common room couches. "I'm sure if I asked Zeph or Frit, they'd tell me you two fuckers could not keep your hands off of each other when you got together. Cut us some slack."

Aether laughs, leaning over the back of the couch to run his hand over his locs. "Oh, they'll tell you all sorts of stories."

Aeon chuffs, turning in Swiss's arms like a cat. "Aeth," they whine, playing it up as they blink up at the older quintessence ghoul. "I was alone in the Pit, lemme have this."

Aether sighs, smiling, and moves his hand to card through Aeon's two-toned hair. They preen, still cat-like, as they press into the touch. "I know, pup. Swiss isn't wrong, though. Me and Dewey were no different."

Swiss laughs, and Aeon feels his chest buzz with it from how close they are to each other. "He's a clingy little bastard, bug. Tries so hard to be tough and mean, but he's as touchy as you are," he whispers into the shell of their ear.

"I know," Aeon says. "Shared a bunk with him just as many times as I did you. Aeth knows, we talked a bunch."

"Mhm," Aether hums, still carding through their hair, leaning over the back of the couch. "I'm just saying, the two of you remind me a lot of how things used to be. How they started, where they might go."

Swiss reaches up and pats Aether's hand. "Aw, big guy, you're so sweet."

He cracks a smile, gold fang glinting. "Enjoy your cuddling. I'll leave you to it."

Eventually they get up, having dinner and a movie night with the pack before the ten of them head their separate ways, breaking into their pairs and small groups. Aeon tucks themself against Swiss's side without hesitation.

Aeon's sleep is peaceful, dreams that sort of blur together instead of the vivid, too intense nightmares that plagued them for the first few months of their life Up Top. They still come, sometimes, but fewer and farther between now that they don't sleep alone.

But they wake in the darkness. They can't feel Swiss pressed against them, he must have gotten up or they must have rolled away from each other in the night. Aeon's not sure why they've woken up until they hear heavy, uneven breathing coming from somewhere beside them.

There's a padding, rustling sheets, and the breathing gets more and more uneven, the thumping faster and more frantic, getting closer to them. Aeon reaches out, tries to guess where the next pat will be.

The breathing hitches, and a big hand wraps vice-like around their own. Aeon threads their fingers together, and Swiss pulls them hard into his chest, still breathing heavy as he buries his face in their hair, his other arm secure around their back.

"Hey," Aeon whispers, muffled into his chest. "'M right here."

He laughs quietly, hitching on something wet. "Sorry, buggy, I, uh, you know how it goes, bad dream."

Aeon squeezes his hand tighter, so hard the bones in their hand start to hurt. "'M here, Swiss," they whisper again. "'M not goin' anywhere. Promise 'm not going anywhere. I wanna help."

"This is helping." He noses at their hair, pressing a kiss between their horns, squeezing their hand back with a soft chuckle. "Thank you, buggy."

"After everything you've done for me?" Aeon murmurs, listening to the frantic beat of his heart start to slow. "Any time."

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Spymaster

Azriel's week: Day 2

Hosted by: @azrielappreciationweek

Word count: 1000+

Rhysand's claws gently knocked on your mind and you let him in. Could you come to my office for a sec, dear? he asked you.

I'm on my way, you answered and put the book aside. Claws left the feeling of soft caress on their way out.

You opened the door to Rhys' office just to be met with broad shoulders of Shadowsinger standing on the other side. " I know what my job is," you heard him say. Apparently they were discussing something important.

"Should I come later?" you peeked from behind him.

"No, Y/N," Rhys smiled. "It's about you, too. The answer to our request came from Day Court in the morning. You can go and use their library."

"That's great. Thank you. I will prepare and go first thing in the morning," you smiled, too, and you looked to where Azriel stood. You hadn't seen him since the day you visited your parents. Corners of his mouth lifted up in tight smile.

"Okay, so it's set," Rhysand nodded. "I almost forgot. Azriel here will go with you. He will keep you safe."

You wanted to object, but you knew it would be useless. He had already made up his mind. "Fine," you gave him nervous smile. "So.. I'm going to prepare." And with that you left.

Next morning you found Azriel waiting in front of your room, silently leaning to the wall with hands in pockets. "Ready?" he asked instead of greeting. You nodded.

Shadowsinger pushed off of the wall and led you to the roof. He took a look around and exhaled deeply before turning to you. He gave you tight smile and reached out to you. Startled you backed few steps. His eyes narrowed on you, studying your face, then he grinned. "We won't fly all the way to Day Court. Once we get out of the wards we will winnow." You teased your lower lip with teeth.

"I know. You just surprised me." Azriel huffed.

"So can we now?" he cocked head to the side offering you scarred hand in black glove. You hesitantly accepted it.

When you arrived to Day Court, you were greeted by Helion himself. You thanked him and handed over letter from Rhysand. After that you went straight to the library. You already knew which books you needed to obtain the information you were looking for, so you assumed it would take you max two days and you could head back home.

Azriel was still with you, walking few steps behind and like some bodyguard eyeing anybody who got too close, but when you sat down with the first book, he disappeared somewhere.

You so immersed yourself in the reading that you didn't notice that it was already evening and all scholars and librarians had left.

"How is it going?" deep night-kissed voice hummed next to your ear and you jumped up. Azriel was leaning over you, looking at the page you were reading. You didn't hear him come.

You shakily exhaled. "Fine. I think I need one more day and we can return."

"You don't need to hurry," his brows furrowed and fingers drummed on the table.

"I know," you pointed to a pile of written papers. "But I'm almost done."

Azriel's eyes searched your face and his lips pulled into thin line, obviously thinking about something. Then he leaned so close that his lips tickled your ear. "I need you to extend it," he whispered.

Frozen in place you swallowed hard. "Why?" you whispered back.

"Not now and definitely not here. We should go to our rooms anyway," he looked around, his voice grave. You put the book you were reading back to the shelf and followed Shadowsinger back to the palace.

Helion gave you bedrooms connected by small resting room with comfortably looking armchairs placed around the fireplace and round dining table for two. Servant brought you dinner shortly after you stepped into the room.

"It seems that somebody from Autumn Court is here looking for something and Rhysand wants to know what Beron is after. I followed them all day, but I'll need time to find out more." You nodded slowly.

You were waiting patiently for Azriel to explain why he asked you to play for time, but he still didn't say a single word, possibly forgetting all about it. You couldn't take it any longer and while the two of you were eating alone, you asked him about it. He didn't answer right away, probably waiting for his shadows to check out the place.

"What about Helion?"

"He had no idea they are here. Rhysand explained everything in the letter you gave him, but he can't interfere. At least not directly. So will you help me now?"

"Of course. I will try to extend our stay as long as possible."

"Thank you," he gave you small smile, his fingers brushed over your knuckles making your heartbeat speed up. Blushing fiercely you pretended to be preoccupied with the food and after that you retired to your bedroom.

Three days passed since you promised Azriel to postpone your return for as long as possible. You spent your days in library while Azriel spied on Autumn Court's people and gathered information that could possibly save a lot of lives in the future. You felt so small, useless and unimportant compared to him.

Usually Azriel walked you to the library in the morning and came to pick you up in the evening, but it was getting quite late and he hadn't appeared yet. Therefore you decided to return on your own. He most likely knew about your every step anyway, so he shouldn't have problem finding you.

You walked through city heading back to the palace while enjoying fresh evening air and looking at windows of already closed shops. You didn't notice you were followed. Not until they attacked you, putting some cloth bag on your head.

"Your spy foiled our lord's plans and now someone has to pay for it, but it won't be us," you heard them as they dragged you to who knows where. You tried to fight them, to scream, but there had to be something in that bag because soon enough you began to feel nauseous and passed out.

[wearyeyebrow]

Worthy In Blue

Summary: You’ve been working on a little surprise project for Lucifer involving navy blue rope and a mahogany chair. You know Lucifer has a penchant for ropework, so what if you gave him an evening to put those skills, and your own, to good use?

Tags under the cut.

Tags: submissive lucifer, dominant MC, rope, restraints, MC is in rope, Lucifer is restrained, pegging, cunnilingus, gn MC, afab MC, mutual possessiveness, romance, established relationship, pre-nightbringer

-

Tonight is the long awaited Grimte Banquet where all the noble houses gather. Relationships are maintained, new ones started, and it’s all Lucifer can do to keep his brothers in line. Luckily, he has you to keep Mammon by your side and Beel full of food.

The night drones on spent managing many noble advances. He spares you a weary glance and you wink at him from across the hall. He can’t help the quirk of his mouth, a slight smile amidst everything. You’re impossibly charming.

A few moments later and he hears your voice in his ear. “Meet me in the coat room, I have something to show you.”

You slip away and disappear somewhere in the crowd. Eventually he manages a moment alone, horribly curious as he finds his way to you.

You close the door behind him, nearly hidden amidst coats of all sizes. “Hi gorgeous,” you wrap your arms around his waist.

"A coat closet?" He muses.

“I won’t keep you. Pretty sure Beel is looking for me too… Here.” You hold up your phone, “What do you think?”

You’re showing him a picture of… rope? “This is what you wanted to show me?”

“I could hardly send it to your phone right now, what with the entire royal court surrounding you. Plus, I’d rather explain its implications in person.”

“Implications?”

“Mm. Are you free next Friday night? Around 10pm?”

“I…” he allows himself a small smile, “I might be able to spare you some time.”

“Oh might you?” You smirk, “Well, if you’re too busy I completely understand. I’m capable of appreciating my own hard work.”

He acts affronted, grabbing you by the waist and kissing your hand. “Would a willing participant not please you more?”

“Isn’t that why I asked you in the first place?” He’s captivated by the crinkle of your nose, by the warmth of your smile.

“You’ve caught me,” he chuckles, “I’m all yours.”

“Then it’s a date. Do you like the color?”

You show him your phone again and he hums appreciatively. "Did you get it from Cloven Boutique? I didn’t think they stocked colored rope."

“They don’t, I dyed it myself."

“Truly?” He looks closer, in want of his glasses. “It looks like a professional job."

"Well, I had to get the color just right - I love the look of you in blue."

"Oh?" His tone softens.

“Mhm…” You appreciatively sweep your eyes up his body, lingering the gold peacock tie-clip you got him last month. You reach out and adjust his collar, “I love seeing you in things I’ve bought.”

“You have good taste.”

“Do you really think so?”

He frowns. “I wouldn’t wear something if it didn’t suit me.”

You laugh, “I know, I just wanted to hear you say it.”

“You’re horrible.”

“I’m charming.”

He fondly rolls his eyes. “I suppose both descriptors are accurate. I will look forward to it all week.”

“I think it’ll be worth the wait.” You lean up and brush your lips against his, “Don’t dance with too many nobles now.”

“Haven’t you noticed? All eyes are on you tonight. It’s taken everything in me not to whisk you away.”

“Likewise, darling.” You wink at him again and his heart certainly doesn’t flutter.

-

Lucifer knocks on your closed door, waiting for you to beckon him inside.

The first thing he notices is an old mahogany chair in the middle of your room, stolen from the hallway. It sits odd against your comfortable furniture.

You make a show of locking your door, brushing against his shoulder as you pass by. Then you cast a noise canceling spell - nothing but an emergency could disturb you now.

When you meet his eyes you're delighted by his wanting expression, unguarded and open in his desire. "I wonder…" you walk over to him, "how much you've thought about this night, curious about what I've planned?" You straighten his tie, close enough to see him swallow.

"It has been on my mind." He takes your hand in his own and kisses your knuckles, looking every part adoring.

You chuckle fondly, "Especially in the evenings, when you think of me?"

His cheeks heat up but his gaze is steady. “I won’t deny it."

“Honesty suits you." He goes in for a kiss just as you pull away. "I want to show you something."

He makes a curious sound and you leave him to open your dresser drawer. "Now, you knew I'd be using rope tonight, but for what exactly I didn't tell you." You gather the rope in your arms, "It might not seem like much of a deviation."

"Oh?" He eyes the rope you've picked.

"You still like it?"

He turns the rope over in his hands, "It’s richer than I remember. How did you do it?"

"Blue mangled beetles - kind of like carmine, but the process is simpler. When dried and crushed they make a beautiful dark navy dye that doesn’t bleed."

"You did your research."

You chuckle and take the rope from his hands. "Only the best for you. Gloves off."

He slips off his right leather glove, finger by finger - wait. “Blue?” You look at him inquisitively. His nails are a rich navy blue, perfectly manicured and glossy.

His eyes flicker behind you, cheeks dusting pink. “I painted them a few days ago.”

You're confused for a minute, then it hits you. “Wait - because of me?”

His voice drops, “You - you mentioned-" He clears his throat, "I thought you might like them.”

"I love them, Lucifer…" You kiss his knuckles, his palm, his wrist, before pulling him in for a proper kiss. His hand cups your jaw and he makes a small, plaintive sound. He really had been thinking about your words all this time.

You pull away with reluctance. "It's time I tell you what we’ll be doing tonight. Shall we start the scene?"

He clears his throat again and sweeps his own magic over your door. "Let us begin."

"Any titles are allowed tonight, you can address me however you’d like. Red to stop the act, yellow to pause, and green for all good. Fire if you want to stop the scene entirely."

"Understood.”

“Then…" the glint in your eyes makes him a little weak in the knees. "I know you have a penchant for ropework. And I know how much you enjoy earning my praise. So, I had a thought - tonight I’d like you to use your ropework skills and tie me up, but I want full range of motion, you know, a design strictly for aesthetics.” You pull the rope taught in your hands, “And then, if you do a good enough job, I may reward you with some rope of my own. What do you say?” You hold out the rope to him.

You smile and oblige, settling into the cold wooden seat. He eyes you and then the rope, contemplative, before loosening his tie and rolling up his sleeves. He circles you, and you admire the focused, pointed look on his face as he carefully plans an intricate design in his mind’s eye. He’s completely in his element and you love to watch him work.

“What an intriguing idea...” He takes the rope from your hands with soft reverence, feeling the rough texture between his fingers. “You really got such a nice shine to it,” he murmurs, mostly to himself. He breathes out slowly and gestures to the mahogany chair, “Please dear, relax.”

“Ah,’ you suddenly realize, “This might help.” You lift up your shirt and drop it next to the chair before shimmying out of your bottoms, leaving you bare before him.

“Yes…” he murmurs as his eyes roam your skin.

You feel a pleasant tingle up your spine when he brushes his fingers through your hair, gently gathering until he can put it up properly above your neckline. Your body relaxes under his touch.

The first knot is an anchor tie just below your bust, he uses four strands and divides them into two, slipping each half over your shoulders and back down to meet your back. The rough texture warms you from the outside in but his careful touch is cool against your skin.

You watch him as he works, loving the interplay of shadow that falls across his sharp features. He catches you staring.

“Am I pleasing to look at, Madam?”

“Yes, very much so.”

Your pact mark sings and you chuckle, bemused at the sensation. “You like it when I compliment you, don’t you, my little black bird?”

His cheeks heat up and his eyebrows furrow, as he’s put off by the pet name, but the humming in your chest only continues. “I can feel it, you know? Honesty really does suit you best - your face is much prettier wearing it.”

The tips of his ears turn pink but he circles you, wrapping his arms around your midsection to finish fixing a knot in place. Suddenly his warm lips press into the crook of your shoulder. The deep undertones of his voice make you shiver as he whispers in your ear. “You will be the death of me.”

You turn to meet his eyes, coy mischief in your own. “I think you’ll survive.” He chuckles and you kiss him once, twice, just to make him simmer. He almost goes back in for a third but you brush your thumb over his bottom lip. “Not yet.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He kisses your shoulder once more.

Time passes in a lovely, hazy sort of way. Lucifer relaxes into the process as you'd hoped he would. It’s a gentle sort of focus where his mind is set on something, a place where nothing else can bother him or tear away his careful attention. He loves taking your direction, easing him out of his mind, constantly wound too tight.

Finally he kneels to finish the job, gingerly maneuvering one of your legs up and over his shoulder to wrap a strand around the back of your thigh. His eyes wander this time, following the line of your body until he lingers between your legs. As if he can’t help himself he kisses your skin, leaving a delicate trail up the inside of your thigh.

You cup his jaw in one hand and he kisses your palm, eyeing between your legs. “After you finish,” you murmur, “You’ll have to earn what you get tonight.” His eyes flicker to yours and he continues moving, finishing the tie he started.

“I believe I’m finished, will you stand?”

You do so, feeling the bend and flex of rope. Nothing feels too tight, everything is snug, hugging the curves of your body. You admire what lacing you can see, particularly the delicate design around your hands and wrists. He truly had taken his time, a glance at the clock proves that an hour has passed.

Finally you turn around and examine his work in the mirror. Your eyes light up at his intricate ropework. You’re beautiful, elegant, fully mobile and yet covered in faux restraints. You admire yourself, making a show of your appreciation. His chest puffs out and the pact mark on your chest rumbles. You gently circle your clit with one finger and enjoy how he shifts uncomfortably behind you.

You want more from him. Your body aches from an hour of foreplay.

You cup his jaw with one hand. “Kneel.”

“Yes Sir,” he murmurs, almost breathless.

His willing, almost eager demonstration of your power over him, of his own lack of control, further spurns you on, and you know he can hold your weight.

"Show me, then, devotion to your work." You prop one leg up on the hard mahogany seat, exposing yourself for him. Rope hugs your thighs, indenting and highlighting what he wants most.

His eyes flicker between your face and your clit. He licks his lips. "Thank you, Sir."

You run a hand through his hair and brace the other on the back of the chair. As soon as his tongue touches your clit you gasp, unable to help yourself. You’ve been on edge for so long now, throbbing at every new rope and delicate detail. You savor his mouth, rocking your hips into his face gently. "Yes…" he sucks and licks as you drip onto his tongue and he moans softly at the gentle tug of your hand in his hair.

You'll come quickly and you know it - you rock against him faster now and he wraps his fingers through the ropes on the back of your thigh before squeezing your ass and petting between your legs.

You look down at him, at his disheveled appearance, tousled hair, and too-tight pants. “Lucifer, darling, you - ah - you don’t have to say anything, no thoughts, no control, just take what I give you."

He groans and claws at the backs of your thighs, pulling you forward against his mouth.

You tilt your head back. "Good man, good job-" he whines and flicks his tongue with renewed vigor, "fffuck, right there…"

You fuck his face, shivering and shaking, chasing your orgasm. He holds you upright and supports your body, grasping at his own ropework. You moan and twitch. A glance at the mirror brings you closer still, “Look baby, look at you, making me feel so fucking good… shit-” Your grip on his hair tightens as you twist your hand, pulling him forward. He moans, high and breathy, harshly breathing through his nose.

His right hand supports your waist while his left squeezes your ass. Just a minute more, a second more, finally, finally his palpable desire sends you over the edge, and god how it fills the air. He takes it all and you don't fall, even as your legs lock and your grip falters. You shake and shiver in his tight grasp, palms holding tight to his shoulders. He keeps licking, just enough to keep you there until tension dissipates and you’re overstimulated. Only then does his grip loosen, following your body as you stand on your own, knees shaking.

There's an unspoken tenderness in his eyes - your baby takes pride in service.

You step away from him when you can, fixing his hair and cleaning your cum from his lips. "Sit on the chair, darling."

His knees crack when he gets up, stiff from his place on the hardwood floor. He sits, bulge straining against his trousers, watching you with rapt attention.

"I think…" you turn around, "You've more than earned your reward - as if there was any doubt in my mind."

“Oh?” He practically glows at your praise.

"And…” you walk over to your nightstand once more, "I'm not done with this yet." He swallows, gaze fixated on the rope in your hands. You smirk, "You like that idea?"

He shifts again. "Yes I - very much."

You reach into your nightstand and pull out a matte black silicone dildo, smaller, elegant even. You hold it up. “What about this? Are you up for it tonight?”

“Yes,” he nods, “I prepared myself for the possibility.”

“Perfect,“ you breathe, already excited. “Then…” your smile is nearly wicked as you regard him and his cock throbs in earnest. “Clothes off. Hands behind your back - hold your forearms.”

He acquiesces, knowing exactly what you want.

Soon he’s sitting naked on the chair, hands held behind his back, willingly at your mercy. Your ties aren’t nearly as elegant, but they restrict his movement and hug his body. You restrain his arms behind his back with a chest harness, carefully distributing the weight of the rope, adding just a touch of flourish. Even in such a simple design he looks lovely. Blue really is his color, you think, admiring him. He catches your eye.

“I was right,” you say, tilting his chin up for a chaste peck on the lips, “You look lovely in blue.” He groans and chases your lips this time. You let him, just once, and deepen the kiss yourself, before grabbing him by the hair, wrenching his head up. “Not yet, darling.”

“As you wish.” He’s breathless and kiss bitten.

You leave him and stack two large pillows on top of each other. You motion for him to stand before grabbing him by the restraints. “I will help you get into position,” you chuckle darkly, “I want you face down.”

His cheeks feel hot but he nods, “Yes Sir.”

“Good man. Lie down.”

It takes a moment since he can’t move his arms but you finally have him exactly where you want him, chest pushed into the bed, hips and ass raised by the pillows beneath him.

He tilts his head to look at you with one eye, eyebrow raised as you appear with more rope.

‘Can’t have you squirming too much, now can I?” He groans into the pillow beneath him and nods.

“Tell me if you’re ever uncomfortable or need to readjust, this position might get tiring after awhile.”

“I’m sure I can take it.”

“I’m sure you can, but I’m not asking. Tell me.”

He shivers. “Yes Ma’am.”

“Good.”

You uncap the lube on your nightstand and snap a glove on. He shivers at the cold feeling of your lubed finger rubbing against him, but as your hand warms so does his body and he slowly starts to meet your gentle thrusts as you enter him. You love this part. It’s incredibly intimate, almost more so that the ensuing sex, because anyone else would have been thrown out long ago - he has only ever done this with you.

Once you’re up to two fingers comfortably you withdraw your hand and replace it with your lubed up strap. “Ready?”

“I’ve been ready.” You smack his ass and he gasps.

“What was that?”

“I apologize, yes I - I’m ready.”

“That’s better. One more remark like that,” you murmur, pressing in slowly, “And I’ll rethink your reward.”

He hisses, wiggling his hips, “A-Apologies - it won’t happen again.”

‘I know it won’t,” you smile, “because you love this too much.” Finally, finally you move your hips, slow at first, until finding a gentle rhythm. You use his bound legs as leverage, pushing deep inside of him as his low, desperate moans fill the air.

As his body strains against the rope it holds tight, digging into his skin - this heat, this pleasure, your power over him is dizzying. For a few blissful moments he can’t think, all he can do is feel you surround him and hear your haunting voice in his ear.

It is easy to admire him, Lucifer Morningstar splayed out before you, rocking his ass into your hips, wanting more, more. You grab the rope holding his forearms tight against his back and pull, arching his back against the sheets. He cries out, and you lean down, pushing all your weight on top of him.

“That feel good, baby? Heh, you love it don’t you?” Your hips are slow and deep, grinding on his favorite spot, “You love being fucked like this. Wrapped in my rope, under my hand-” He moans, long and debauched. “I’m the only one who gets to fuck you like this, you belong to me, don’t you?”

“Yes-!”

You’re breathless above him. “We belong to each other, right, love?”

His eyes open and he gazes at you in the adjacent mirror, “Yes…” You dip and kiss the back of his neck, soft and sweet, "Hnn…" he takes in a shuddering breath and lets his head fall forward.

“That's right, no one else deserves to touch you, no one else is good enough, worthy enough.” You whisper in his ear.

He gasps your name and pushes his ass against your hips, pathetically fucking himself on your strap. Every slap of your skin sears welts into his body. You grab his hair and jerk his body up.

“Eyes open, look at yourself.” He didn’t think he could get any redder, but the sight of you behind him, fucking his ass with slow purposeful thrusts, restraining him while tied in his own ropework, it's too much, he can’t - he’ll -

You wrench his head up, “Keep looking,” you pant, “look at the face you make when you come for me.”

He can’t help it, he comes fast and hot, hips stuttering, mouth open and gasping. You slow but you don’t stop. He whimpers but dutifully stays, taking it all.

“Good man,” you praise him, “So. Fucking. Good-” you punctuate your words by digging your nails into his back. You slowly drag them downward and tiny specks of blood bubble to the surface. He hisses but his cock jumps beneath him. “You like a little pain, don’t you?” You slap his ass with an open palm. “Answer me.”

“Yes, yes Ma’am -”

“Yes what?”

"Fuck - more, please-!”

“Filthy.” You bite, before indulging him with another slap on the ass.

You run your nails gently over the welts and he sighs in bliss. In this moment of calm you use all your strength to hoist him upward again, until his back is flush against your chest. You wrap a hand around his throat and start to bounce him on your cock. His eyes roll back and he groans, reaching around to grab your hip as he rocks back into you.

“When I cut you loose,” you pant, “I want you to lie down on your back, legs spread, waiting and ready for me again. Do you understand me?”

He swallows breathlessly and nods.

You lean him forward and gently pull out. You untie his legs, and then his arms before dropping the rope next to the bed. His body is tinged red with slight rope burn, just how he likes.

He rolls over onto his back, finally making eye contact with you. You smile at him, gentle, and his pupils pin. “Spread your legs for me.”

Lucifer grabs his own knees, and spreads his legs while you refuse to let him lose eye contact. His red flush is delicious, and so is his twitching cock, clearly enjoying this.

You grab more lube from the nightstand and quickly reapply before holding one of his legs to your chest and slipping back inside. He groans and rocks his hips forward, savoring the feeling.

You slowly snap your hips forward, reaching deep inside him, you keep repositioning until he gasps and then you hold there. Little thrusts of your hips grinding against his ass. He gasps low, moaning sweetly in his deep voice as sweat trickles down his temple.

“Kiss me-” he croaks, reaching for you. You melt into him and grind against him as his hands roam your body. He doesn’t realize he’s whimpering and shuddering, or if he does he doesn’t care.

You continue like this for a while, enjoying his gasping deep moans in your ear, his lips and teeth on your neck. Finally, at your mercy, you gently trace your fingers over the head of his cock. The noise he makes is agonizing, and you have half a mind to continue neglecting him. But he has your heart as you keep up that gentle, light contact, and he doesn’t ask for more. His head is spinning, filled with thoughts of you, you, just you.

You speed up your hand as your hips get tired and he grips your back, rocking into you. Finally you feel him tense, feel his blunt nails dig into your back.

“There you go, my pretty bird,”

He gasps, light and beautiful, shuddering as he comes, keening as each slow, deep thrust of your hips milks another dribble of cum out of him.

You kiss again and again, covered in sweat, cum, and specks of blood, ignoring the passage of time.

-

Darkness blankets your bedroom, barely lit in deep navy shadow. Your fingernails fall up and down rhythmically over the rope burn on Lucifer’s back.

“I heard you were approached last week.” He murmurs.

“At the Banquet…? Oh, did Asmo say something?”

Lucifer chuckles, "He said something akin to "Everyone here is itching for their chance, don't let them out of your sight."

You feign exasperation. "And what did you do, you let me out of your sight. Now I'm in bed with a demon."

Lucifer snorts, "The very same demon you propositioned in a coat closet."

"What can I say? I know who I want," you kiss his temple.

Lucifer leans into you further, draped across your body. "Don't you have plans early tomorrow morning?"

“You yawn again, “Solomon said he has something important to talk to me about. What exactly, I’m not sure… he can wait until I've had breakfast.”

“That sorcerer…”

“He wants you so bad,” you chuckle, “I mean, it isn’t up to me, but I enjoy acting as if it is.”

“Rest assured,” he kisses your shoulder, “he’ll never have me, not like you do.”

Your smile is gentle. “I love you, Luci.”

“And I you.”

Lucifer closes his eyes and relaxes his sore body, satisfied and calm. He resolves to make you breakfast in the morning before seeing you off to Solomon.

Truly, he thinks, there's nothing he can’t face as long as you’re there when he wakes.

[soft-persephone]

I Will Be Your End pt. 1

Vampire!Fontaine x Vampire!Black!Reader x Vampire!Abel Morales // John Boyega x Black!Reader x Oscar Isaac

Explicit // WC: 9.5k // warnings: blood, descriptions of corpses, mild body mutilation, death, violence, mild abuse, horror, smut // masterlist // Part 2 //

music: Good People / by Majid Jordan

AN: Biggest shoutout to @megamindsecretlair her Vampire Tyrone fics have required my brain chemistry and changed my life! She is the biggest inspiration behind this fic so if you even slightly enjoy this one, go check out theirs! It’s truly beautiful!

Apparently it’s too long to make into one fic, so I will wait until next week to post pt2

I hope you enjoy!!

-

Where the fuck she at?”

Fontaine threw a chair and Yo-yo ducked, it smattered into pieces upon impact. Not satisfied, he flipped the coffee table and attempted to kick a hole in the couch, but she stopped that shit quick.

“Taine, Nock it the fuck off! I know you mad and all, but we still live here, and we ain’t got nowhere else to go!”

His breaths were rabid and heavy. His eyes glowing hard.

“Where. The fuck. Is. She?” He huffed.

Yo-yo licked her lips.

“It’s bad, real bad. You need to get to her fast,” he opened his mouth, probably to ask her the same fucking question again, but she stopped him with a raised hand, daring him to say something, “I tracked her like you told me, but she’s smart.. real smart.”

“That ain’t nothing we don’t already know. Yo-—“

“—interrupt me one more time.”

He sighed, shaking his head before sitting.

Good, God… finally.

“So boom!” She smacked her fist unity the palm of her other hand. “She only stops to feed in small towns, usually a racist or someone who tried to put his hands on her or other woman, all untraceable to the cops n’ shit.”

His face goes blank. The attitude he once had gone. She cohdi feel the power radiating off of him in waves.

He’s putting the pieces together.

“She’s in New York.” Her lips formed into a line, waiting for his response.

“How many body’s?”

“It’s more than 50.”

Fuck.

Tyrone knew she’d be pissed with him for the first few years, but not like this.

He didn’t think she’d actually run away from him.

He looked at the antique book he brought you.

What is was about, he didn’t have fucking clue. This was a book published before summaries on the back were a thing. It was so old it barely had a title.

You loved reading, like Yo-yo, and history and shit.

It was the perfect gift.

But now.. he might not even get the chance to give it to you.

“Call Slick.”

-

“Are you alright little one?” A voice from somewhere asked you.

It was so rich. He kept talking and talking.

You hummed.

He should talk more.

You could barely feel the blood covering your body. The fresh dark flood of it was dripping from your mouth. Falling down a similar path as the last stickier dried up drops.

You looked up and saw his glowing eyes.

They were golden, but not like the harsh metallic gold that matched Fintaine’s grills. They were an old gold like the moon. An old golden hued moon that connected every ancient moment to the present. Witnessing the tragedy that had befallen what used to be her life that had now become the eternal damnation she didn’t deserve…. That she didn’t ask for.

You might hate Fontaine and what he did to you, but you weren’t stupid.

Vampires don’t pop up out of nowhere and for no reason.

Fear clings to you, but you fight it back down your throat, swallowing it before licking your lips.

“I’m.. I'm sorry,” you started. Your voice sounded foreign to you. It was hoarse, croaky, and broken, “I don’t know all the rules to everything. I won’t make any trouble.” Your heart sank, “I just needed to rest for a moment. I can le—“

“Nonsense.” He doesn’t raise his voice or yell. It was just as rich and calm as the first time you heard it. You lick your lips once more. “What makes you think I want you to leave?”

His mouth wasn’t moving…

“Maybe I saw someone in distress and wanted to help.” He was smiling now. It was poised and polite.

If you didn’t know any better, right now felt like meeting a person on any other day. Like taking a stroll on a random day, in the daylight. Just like you used to.

You’d be walking towards campus for class only to bump into a handsome mysterious stranger, he’d be nice and help you up. Insisting he won’t leave until he knows you're alright. He takes you to lunch.

Leading you to no longer care how late you would be to class, just wishing the day won’t end, so your new found stranger wouldn’t leave you.

Were you in distress?

You won’t play the fool and deny it. But you didn’t like the sound of it either. You didn’t know this stranger. Only his voice in your head and his old eyes.

What do you do now?

Barely blinking, he was closer to you.

You registered the fact that you were sitting on the ground. Your legs curled up, bending at the knee and strown casually to your side. A body strown on the opposite side of you. Brutally mutilated beyond recognition, his chest split in the center, his flesh and guts spilling out like a wild animal taken down by a predator.

He kneeled behind you, holding your back to his chest with one hand as he caressed your cheek with the other.

“Did you do this?” He asked aloud, the breath of his voice falling softly on your forehead, tickling gently at your eyelashes.

His eyes were even prettier up close.

He was prettier than Fontaine.

You cursed whatever foreign power within you that led you to think of him, even now.

“No….” You answered, your voice still hoarse, “It was a werewolf.”

He pulled you tighter against him. Firmly, but gently holding your head to the side by a handful of your hair.

His mouth danced softly on the skin of your jaw to your neck. Worshiping the area with such devotion, it felt sinful. It felt wrong. It felt worse than the curse of being a monster forever.

His teeth sank into your flesh, filling you with as much bliss as he was taking, he wanted to be full of nothing but you. He wanted to consume you.

“Who do you belong to?” You heard his warm amber voice in your head.

“No one.” You silently answered back.

—

It’s been weeks, Slick.”

“I said I wasn’t no miracle worker,” Charles huffed. “I said, I’d see what I could do and as we seeing, it ain’t a whole lot.”

“Fontaine kicked his chair behind him as he stood up and Yo-yo stepped between him.

“Uh-uh, none of that! You remember what happened last time you killed a witch?” She hissed. “Your not putting me through that again, Nigga! I won’t let you!”

Fontaine smacked his teeth before turning around towards the window.

“You sure you can’t feel her?” He placed his hand under his shirt one more time before reaching out into the bond. He didn’t need to touch his chest in any way when reaching out to feel you in the bond that made you all a clan. It was more to calm himself down.

“Nothing.” Yo-yo sighed.

He had everyone in their clan reaching out in the bond daily to feel you, for someone to be able to either feel your emotions, dream about you, or see visions on where you were or what you might be doing.

And it was all failing.

Your connection was growing weaker to everyone everyday.

The only thing your bond was putting out was an insane amount of power. It could knock out weaker members into walls or send them flying if they touched it. For someone of your status, it shouldn’t be possible.

The only times vampires tell stories of fledglings growing insanely strong in a short amount of time was before they tried to overthrow clans from their masters, usurping the line before executing them in front of everyone.

What Fontaine did after he was turned…

“At least she stopped feeding everyday all the time.”

“But she’s been learning things.”

Fontaine’s eyebrows rose together in confusion.

“What you mean? How can you tell?”

“I don’t know.. I just can.” She shook her head with a heavy emotion everyone in the clan was starting to feel. “Something’s different about her. I felt this new person in the clan and I know you haven’t turned anyone since her.”

“She’s in the middle!” Slick slammed his hand on the table. “That’s why I say give me all the details! Every single time!” He shook his head. “ there wouldn’t been no need, to pull out my whole crystal ball and shit!”

“Will you quit whining!” Fontaine huffed, “and can someone tell me what the fuck is going on?”

“Yo-yo said she feels a new energy in the bond she can’t explain.” Slick fiddled with the hem of his sleeves, “that means she’s found someone else to pledge allegiance to.”

The air went cold.

Fontaine usually has a better grip on his influence and how it can affect the air around him, but when he was upset it came off fast and hard, filling up the room with fear and trepidation that only made it worse.

“No.” He shook his head. “That’s not it.”

“Fontaine, calm down. No one’s saying she betrayed you. We’re just weighing all the possibilities th—“

“I said, no.”

The intonation of his voice changed to something dark and layered with a power that made Yo-yo and slick unwilling still and stop talking.

“She would never.” Fontaine punched the wall.

“She would never drink another vampire's blood.”

—

Abel, cupped water into his hands and poured it over your shoulders, letting it cascade down your chest and your back. The water was scalding, but his hands were warmer.

His hands were gliding over your skin as if he were attempting to create you himself, or he was worshiping the expanse of your skin. Comiting every curve, bump, stretch mark, and stray mole into his memory. Basking at the feel of you and cherishing each millisecond in fear he wouldn't get another chance.

“What.. happened to me?” You asked, “every moment before now feels like a hazy fever or dream I can barely remember.”

“Bloodlust.”

“Bloodlust? I went on some crazy murder spree?!”

“No,” he smiled at your shock and you somewhat relaxed. Still not liking what had become of view, “you drank quite a large amount of blood in a short amount of time, and instinctively once you're in that state your body will only crave more and more in want of being more powerful.”

“I don’t wish to be more powerful. I don’t wish to be anything.”

Abel frowned at you, but ignored your statement.

You were a little disappointed, but you understood.

You didn’t have any friends to confide in anymore, no one to share your experience of existence with. You had no connection with anything anymore, human or creature, nothing else made you feel like more of a monster than that.

“How do you feel?”

“Better, I suppose.”

“No,” he tsked at you, “how do you feel?” His eyes flashed down at you, and you felt his energy quickly fill the room washing over you in a cocoon of warmth, rivaling the bath water.

You sighed.

There’s nothing more you hated then actively practicing and learning about what you now were.

At least, that’s how it was with Fontaine.

You reached deep within yourself. At your spirit or aura.. perhaps something deep within your mind until you felt this new magical essence that now lived within you.

It was bigger, louder.. but it still bore no color.

“I think I’m stronger in some way, but I still don’t know what color I’m supposed to see.”

“You are,” he gently grasped at your sides and lifted you up out of the water, immediately ushering you into a towel, “much stronger that is.” He patted your skin dry , before grabbing a glass jar with oil in it.

“Smell.” He lifted it to your nose.

“Hmmm.” It was a warm boozy vanilla with a hint of something spicy. “I like it.”

“Me too.”

The silence was comforting as you let him cover you with the oil and knead it into your skin.

You can’t remember the last time you had felt so at ease.

He gave you a white sweater that had to be one of his and wrapped you in a blanket as you laid on your side next to him.

He kept his hands to himself and you hated it.

You longed to curl up closer into him and let him absentmindedly play with the locs of your hair. Much longer now that they’ve grown since you’ve died. With plenty of time spent avoiding Fontaine in isolation from him and his goonies, you learned to retwist them yourself.

“How were you turned?” He looked at you with such somber eyes. They were brown just as Fontaine’s but they were much much warmer. Soft things they were, almost wet.

Was she such a sad site? Did he pity her that much?

Was she something to be pitied?

“I’m not sure. I woke up like this one morning in a random bed away from my home and my family.”

His face scrunched together, not just in confusion but sadness.

“No,” he paused, searching for the right words.”Did you consent?”

“What?” You were offended.

Who would ask for this? Only a psychopath would ask for something like this.

“No!” You both winced at how harsh you sounded.

“I did.” He gazed into the distance, looking more somber.

“Why?” You hope you didn’t sound as in disbelief and rude as you felt.

“My… my wife was turned by some random vampire, and once she finally put the pieces together and figured out what happened to her and by whom, she told me, and I asked her to turn me.”

“Oh.”

“Once she did,” he glared at the wall, …

“I had a vision. A plan for our future. . . our family,” he quickly smiled before his face fell into something dark you couldn’t describe. “Generational wealth.” He turned to you with an indescribably smile. His teeth flashed, charmingly so, but his eyes were something else that did not match, “but this. I couldn’t even imagine anything like this getting in my way. Our way.”

“What happened to her?”

“She.. passed.” He lifted his hand to brush your cheek. “She wanted to, and I didn’t hold it against her. We’d been alive for so long.”

“Why didn’t you. . . pass with her?”

“You ask so many questions.”

Had you been alive you swore your face would have burned.

You averted your gaze and focused on his hand on your face.

“Don’t be embarrassed. It’s endearing,” he pulled you closer, nestling his head on top of yours. You now felt embarrassed for an entirely different reason. “It makes you seem so.. human.”

You sobbed.

“I didn’t ask for this. Any of it.”

“I know,” he placed his hand on the back of your head, suffocating you against his chest and you welcomed it. “I know.”

You will yourself to stop crying. You were done crying.

“I’m sorry this happened to you. When someone is turned it must be with consent. It’s a relationship built on trust. Without it, the bond between master and fledgling is painful for everyone involved

“I have no master!” You argued. “Fontaine.. doesn’t do that.”

“Then how does it work between him and everyone he’s turned.”

You sighed.

“I.. don’t really know. He and everyone in town was somehow turned by this old vampire and he compelled everyone to forget it and to be his slaves or test puppets or something,” you squeezed Abel’s back, holding him closer to you, burying your face drier into his chest, “Fontaine killed him even though he was begged not to, and somehow, they All lived and he was the new leader.”

Abel froze and you looked up at him.

“Is that bad?”

“N.. no.” He pursed his lips. “It’s just unheard of, impossible even.”

He pulled back from you for just a second, looking into your eyes. He moved his hand from your back to the temple of your forehead.

He was looking into your mind.

Fontaine used to try it all the time and you always forced him out somehow.

When he was done he held you even tighter than before. Staying silent.

You thought perhaps he was done talking and just wanted to spend time tucked against you, deciding to sleep and talk about the rest of it in the morning, but you felt his tears fall into your hairline.

You forgot just how horrific what happened to you was. You didn’t always hate him, but now you do. Not just him, but how you used to feel about him.

You’ll never forget that night, and you’ll never forgive him for what he did to you.

Another person, well, vampire, had experienced the story of how you came to die, and they wept just like you did.

You pushed your feelings deep down into the colorless energy within as you’ve always done, and you willed yourself to sleep, wishing for the chance to make Fontaine hurt as you now did.

“Uhoh, someone’s getting a little too turnt!”

“Leave me alone!” You laughed at your friend. “Finals are over, and I can now let loose!”

You might take school a little too seriously, but you came from a home where education was what saved your parents from poverty and they passed that same lesson on to you.

It might be strict to some, but as you grew older you only grew to believe it just as much as your parents.

You wouldn’t have anything if this school shit didn’t work.

You weren’t raised to hustle, you were raised to study, so that’s what you did.

But now it was time to party!

You didn’t always go out with your friends, so the nights you did, were always special. Your favorite food and drinks were always there when you were, and all your favorite people.

Usually you were really shy and reserved, but one or two drinks and the edge is off! You can let loose and maybe even dance. Who cares what anyone else thinks? You're having fun with the people you love and the people that love you!

You're making memories and forming your circle. You dreamed of the big fancy job you’d get one day to finally be able to take care of yourself and live in your own place!

“Uhhh.” Your friend called your name with a badly contained smile.

“Yeah?” You smiled back.

She smirked and then threw her arms around you with a laugh.

“Omg, what is it? Just spit it out already,” you laughed back.

“What would you say, if I told you there’s a guy here with a crush on you?” You blinked.

A crush? On you?

You believed you were pretty. You weren’t that insecure in yourself, people just tend to make it very clear that you aren’t their type.

But this was new!

Your stomach fluttered at the possibility.

“I don’t know!” You laughed again. “But whatever happens, happens!”

Your friend squeaked again and wrapped her arms around you once more.

She was so drunk. You smiled.

“Do you mind if I sit?”

You looked up to see cool dark skin, and a yellow gold smirk of a smile looking down at you.

“No, it’s okay.” You politely smiled back.

He was everything.

He liked that you listened. That you didn’t judge him off his looks.You like that he didn’t assume you were stuck up just because of how shy and introverted you could be.

Conversation was easy. Blissfully easy.

You both probably talked about anything and everything. The big personal life stuff to every miniscule thought and hobby.

He’d never seen Star Wars before.

You are a basic gym person at best.

Some music you both liked, some music he liked you never heard of and vice versa.

“How come you're not scared?”

“Scared of what?” You almost wanted to laugh but you held it in. You weren’t sure how he’d react if you did.

“Of me, or like,” he smacked his teeth, “you don’t act weird and stuff when I talk about what trips me up as a drug dealer or get that silent judgy look. People think that by not saying anything they're being polite, but they don’t know it shows on their face.”

“I don’t judge people based on their life or choices. Just by what’s on the inside. Not everyone has the same chances or choices. We’re all just trying to make it. No matter where we start in life, it’s all toward the same thing.” You stopped and pondered for a bit, searching for the right words. “It’s the government and shit they’ve gotten away with they have us all over the place. Until we can change the system or something like that. . . and yeah.” You ended dumbly.

“Yeah?” Fontaine was practically cackling at you. He laughed loudly. The sound coming from his belly, his low baritone sounds of joy flooded your senses. His yellow gold grillz shining in the low light of the room.

“Just, yeah.”

“Well excuse me for not being able to break down capitalism and its effects on the wealth gap and disparity in America and how it relates to race in one sentence. I've done it enough in school. Which is over now, and I'm tryna take a break from it all.”

You’d never felt so seen, so understood. You could see yourself in him, and he saw himself in you. You both had completely different lives, you had different ideas for almost everything except where it counts. Aside from the basic black experience and the trauma associated with that, or little quirks and social similarities they’ve grown fond of as a collective. There was something more.

A genuineness. A mirroring of the part of yourself that you couldn’t put into words. Tyrone was your person.

That’s why it was so easy to let him take you upstairs. To let his hands roam across the expense of your skin. His mouth was so warm. He lathes at your neck. Dragging his mouth down towards your chest. He sucks hard at your breast until your panting and writhing. He moves towards the next one, doing the same.

You can’t tell where your body ends or his mouth begins.

“You like that?” He looked down at you with half a pearly white smirk. When did he take his grills off? You didn’t know.

He was so calming. He crashed into you like a wave. When you first met on that couch you could feel him pulling you in towards him. The waters of his soul were cool and tranquil, and you’d happily float in the body of it all night. Now as things grew more intense as he mouthed at you, and you clutched at him just as desperately.

“Fontaine.” You moaned his name like a prayer.

He responded with a similar prayer of your name on his lips.

You were drowning in him. The wave of his entire being crashed against you, suffocating you as it flooded over and over your head until you were so far gone underneath the very waters of his essence, of him, you couldn’t breath.

“Who knew such a fat pussy could be so tight?” He lapped and lathed at your skin.

The slow growing ache within you was getting stronger and stronger. Your own desire was eating you alive, burning and festering within you. It was too much. Everything felt so good it hurt, so when he decided to bite down into your flesh, everything within you seized. Tightening in response, screaming for more.

“You like that,” he praised slowly into your neck, “i’an know you was like that.”

He pushed your legs up by your thighs. His hand sliding along your skin as if he was remolding you, reshaping you in his image before he destroys you with the very hands he pulled you out of the dirt with.

You whined, tears brimming in your eyes, but you couldn’t feel them. Fontain didn’t acknowledge them.

You wanted him to feel good. That’s all you wanted. You wanted to make him feel good so he didn’t leave you.

“—wanna be yours.” You mewled as he sucked harder at your neck once more until you made that sound again. He did it over and over again until you whined and panted for more, and he responded with another bite, much harder this time. His mouth staying on your skin much longer.

Waves and waves of pleasure flooded your senses. You arched your back to chase the feeling of his motuh, pressing yourself into him.

He released you with a wet slurp.

“You’on needa worry ‘bout that.” He pressed his dick against you, letting the head bump against your clit as he slid it along your folds. With each lazy movement your hips chased the feeling of his.

Fontaine responded by pulling his hips back, letting you feel every thick inch as he slowly pulled back until only the tip was inside of you before thrusting back into you. He set a slow enduring pace. Each heavy thrust of his hips caused a moan to fall from your lips.

He was branding you. With every thrust of his body into yours, with his hands on your body, with his mouth biting into your flesh. The sounds of his mouth on you matched the wet sounds of his slips slamming into yours.

He wasn’t just consuming you, burning you, he was molding you. Reshaping you not only into a new being but combining your souls. Molting them into one another, you didn’t know where he began and you ended, and you wanted more. No, you needed more. You needed him. You wanted to live for him. Exist only for him.

So you chased every feeling of his body, matching each and every movement of his hips, arched your back further to get that much closer.

It was a night you never forgot. A night you couldn’t forget. Each moment of bliss was now remembered with a matching thought of pain. With every new height of pleasure you didn’t know was humanly possible was now replaced with the thought that every single peak you reached was one step away from your life, your family, and what you used to be at your very core.

A robbery of your humanity.

But you didn’t know that when you woke up in a bed that wasn’t yours. Your phone nowhere to be found.

You were scared and alone.

But you remembered your night with Fontaine.

He took you away from everything, and you didn’t even get the chance to confront him about it while you threw up day and night. While you tossed and turned every waking moment with a headache that wouldn’t go away. While your stomach started to gnaw at your flesh from the inside out caving in on itself. You were hot and cold at the same time and always sweating. Everything started to blur and the sun hurt.

It didn’t help that the room was full of windows.

You had to resort to burying yourself in a hoard of blankets.

But when the moon rose high, you took your chance.

In your feeble weak state, you managed to travel around the foreign town you learned was called the Glenn. Hundred and thousands of miles away from your home.

You managed to find someone nice enough to talk to you.

“You a’right? You need to sit down? You wanta glass a’ water?”

“Please.” Your voice was horse and meak. You didn’t want to be so trusting of all these people you didn’t know, but they had to be better than Fontain or whoever the fuck he was.

You cleared your throat.

“Can I borrow your phone?”

You looked at the date, it could not be right. A chill ran down your spine and filled your entire body.

It’s been 10 years.

You couldn’t have been asleep for ten years! Were you somehow drugged out of your mind? Is that how? What has that sick fuck been doing to your body while you’ve been out of conscience for ten fucking years.

Fear and bile rose in your body and you threw up.

“Aye what the fuck!” You didn’t see what happened next as black clouded the corners of your vision and the world went dark.

However, you were still there.

And in a bath of darkness you focused on your grief and your anger.

You don’t know what has happened to you, but you do know one thing. Fontaine was going to die by your hands, and that thought of comfort let you slip into your first slumber of peace.

-

Yoyo treaded lightly around the corner. She stood still not to draw attention to herself. She watched as the slick black ornate car pulled up to the side of the restaurant. She watched as a man with heavily styled black hair and tan skin stepped out and handed off his keys. Impeccably dressed with a heavy wool coat too match.

“Shoulda went for a black one. Would have been real fresh too.”

Yo-yo bit the inside of her cheek.

“I mean the taupe beige isn’t that bad of a look. It kinda grows on you the more you look at it. But if he really wanted to ste—“

“Nigga, don’t nobody give a damn about his fucking coat!” She hissed.

Why Fontaine made her bring Slick along, she would never know.

“Slick opened his mouth to say something smart, but Yo-yo quickly cut him off.

“Shut up! There she is!”

They watched as he opened the door to the other side.

You stepped out in a gorgeous silk red number that had a leg slit and a low back. You had a white fur shawl that covered your shoulders. Gold dripping around your neck, ears, and a few of your fingers. There had to be some diamonds sprinkled about somewhere. With that type of money, there had to.

Situation aside, Yo-yo and Slick both let out sounds of approval.

“Shit, if I could get all that, I’d leave Fontaine sorry ass too.” Yo-yo murmured.

“As a man with certain avenues and multitudes, I can not hate another player. If you got it, you got it.”

Slick snapped his fingers, the rings on his hands clacking annoyingly so, and their clothes changed.

“What the fuck am I wearing?”

“What are you complaining for? He smacked his teeth. That’s what you usually wear.”

Yo-yo would have appreciated the little yellow thing she wore anywhere else, but not now.

“You saw what they were wearing! This place is classy! It’s nice as shit and they are not about to let a couple of raggedy asses in looking like this.”

“You see that’s your problem!” He raised a finger and Yo-yo had to interrupt him.

“Nigga, I know you not putting a finger in my face!”

“Will you calm yo’ ass down! All I’m tryna say is,” he dusted off his clothes, letting a harsh breath through his nose, “Fontaine made me come with you for a reason. It don’t matter what we wear, I can get us in.”

“Mhmm, you better.”

“Abel.” You warily said his name.

He guided you through a crowd with a hand tentatively placed on your lower back. Plush and luxurious with low thundering music. People were everywhere. But if you really focused and stilled your mind a bit, you could tell who was a vampire, and there were many, and who was not.

Abel was about to answer you, but a young light skinned man had interrupted the steady pace Abel and you were making through the crowd.

“H-hi.” He said softly and sweetly before cupping your face with a hand. He had to be around your age if you were human, boyish features made it too hard to tell, even if he had a beard. Close shaven and shaped well to match his face. . His eyes were a large bright brown as he battered them shyly at you. He had full lips that looked so soft and his lashes were so long.

“Um, hi?” You blinked, not sure what to do. Too many people were crowded around in their own world to care about what was transpiring between you.

You moved his hand from your cheek, and he took it as a sign to move his face closer to yours. You stiled. Even the slightest of movements would have made your lips touch.

“Can you bite me?” His voice was a sultry pant, almost a whine.

Blood rushed through your senses. You noticed it now.

The smell of it in the room. The humans straying around from vampire to vampire.

Something on your face must have changed. Maybe your eyes flashed because his lips parted just a tad more and his eyes almost rolled back.

You leaned in closer, your lips grazing his neck before you felt Abel’s hand slide from your back to your arm, roughly pulling you back.

“She’s on a diet.” He didn’t yell or raise his voice, but his tone was clear cut and dry with plenty of bite.

He raised your hand to reveal the glowing purple glow stick bracelet.

“Oh.” The stranger pouted his lips, causing a rush of something to burn deeply within you, “well,” he fiddled with his fingers, “when you're not on a diet can you come back? I’m here almost every night.”

You turned to Abel, not sure what was happening.

“She’ll think about it.” He patted him on the shoulder before placing his hand at your back once more and led you through the crowd.

Going up steps, he let his hand fall from you, but you couldn’t find it in you to step away from him.

“This is a nightclub for vampires?”

“And humans.” Abel said casually before stopping someone and ordering a few drinks.

“Wristbands are color coded.” He led you to a cornered booth before guiding you in and sliding after you.

“Red for feeding vampires, green for those willing to be bitten, yellow for humans who don’t, and purple for vampires who are on a diet.”

You looked at your purple wristband with a frown. A gnawing sensation swelling within you.

“But I—“

“— have had more than enough.” He sighed as he saw your face fall, “look. Bloodlust is a hard thing to come back from but enough time has passed where you aren’t jumping on any and everything with a pulse.”

You nodded at the reason in his words.

“Who are we here to meet anyway?”

Abel twisted the ring around his finger and crossed one of his legs over the other one.

“The vampire who helped me after me and my wife were turned.”

As the waiter placed down your drinks, a figure appeared out of nowhere. Eerily still and quiet as people bustled to and fro around him. His gaze fixed on you and Abel.

His hollow black eyes reflected the light and surrounding colors in a strange effect you could barely understand. His equally dark and plain clothing was just as off putting.

“He is ready for you.”

Abel took a quick swig of his drink and ushered you out of the booth.

He held you close to him as you both followed the strange man.

“Let me do the talking.” Abel whispered in your ear. “If he tells you to do something, just do it and don’t protest too much.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but Abel rose an eyebrow at you as his mouth twisted into a tight thin line.

“Most importantly,” he whispered in your face as you both climbed the steps to an intricate door to a room that looked over everything, “follow my lead.” His eyes flashed in the familiar old gold you’ve grown comfortable gazing at, but in this moment it made your veins run cold.

“Abel,” a man who looked strangely familiar to him, stood up from behind his desk to dutifully shake Abel’s hand with a formal and polite smile, “it’s been so long. To what do I owe this rare pleasure of a visit from you. Everything is well at the office?”

“Yes, everything is fine, but I have a request to ask of you.”

At that moment, the man looked at you and his eyebrows rose into his hairline.

“I see.” He corrected himself with another polite smile and motioned towards the chairs in front of his desk. “Let’s discuss this in a more comfortable manner.”

He and Abel looked alike, but they couldn’t appear more different.

This man’s hair was much curlier, but does this mean Abel’s hair could be equally as curly?

He was turned much later in life. The evidence in the salt and pepper of his hair and the thick beard that suited his features.

Despite their few differences there was so much they had in common. In the formal attire they both seemed to respect and their equally formal mannerisms, but it was clear this man held some sense of superiority.

Not only in how he moved and acted, but how Abel, the most powerful vampire you had recently met, treaded carefully around this one.

It would have caught you by surprise if you weren’t feeling suffocated by a strange yet powerful aura.

It had to be coming from him.

“Forgive my rudeness, let me introduce myself. I am Duke Leto Atreides although not quite a Duke anymore. That was quite some time ago.”

You cleared your throat and told him your name, introducing yourself just as politely.

“It’s no trouble at all.”

Leto looked at you a moment too long with an odd look, like you had shocked him somehow, before his face fell back into its usual demeanor.

You looked at Abel to see if you had done anything wrong, but he gave you a small nod to reassure you that you had not. However, his face seemed to hold a look of concern or wary at how the Duke was looking at you.

“What is it you came to ask for?” He cleared his throat before turning his attention back towards Abel.

“Well, it’s not so much a favor for me, but for her.” Abel crossed one leg over the other and corgilly clasped his hands together in his lap.

“She’s a fledgling.” He paused, licking his lips and dipping his head down momentarily. His eyes briefly glowed before he slightly shook his head, “she was unwillingly turned.”

The Duke’s head snapped towards you with a frown. His expression of formal politeness was no more. It was quickly succeeded by a cordial disdain, regarded with frown, on your behalf.

“Impossible.” He placed his chin in the knuckles of his hand. “Who would do such a thing? The event of someone unwillingly turned surviving is rare.”

“What!”

You violently twisted in your chair to face Abel and he stilled you with a hard look and an arm across your body to keep you from speaking and moving more.

“That is exactly my understanding as well, but she is alive and well and recently recovering from a bout of bloodlust.”

Leto stood up with a look of thought, and Abel followed suit.

You rise with a glare, your eyes looking between them both. You tried to keep your composure, but you were failing on every level. You could feel your anger coursing through your veins. Whatever magic that had your heart thumping surged throughout your body. Your heart beating faster and faster until you couldn’t feel it in your chest. It was racing at such a speed you couldn’t hear and your vision started to blur.

Leto had two hands on the side of your face, looking into your eyes as you stood frozen in your rage. When did he start talking to you? When did he put his hands on you?

“W—“

“— calm down.” His eyes glowed into yours. An iridescent gray blue. Almost a dark indigo of sorts.

It made you think of the rain. A thunderstorm and how before its clouds burst, the lightning cracks. Seconds after, it’s followed by thunder pounding. How once it ends, there’s an eerily still that falls on everything. The dark clouds recede and a bright and sunny day materializes in a bath of melancholy of not knowing what had just happened and why.

It didn’t calm you down, but it slowed your heart in your chest, something within you was still seething at him.

He didn’t weep for you as Abel did.

His thumb softly brushed at your cheek as he studied your face. A calmness bloomed across his face. His polite superiority is gone, revealing just a man— a vampire.

He looked like he found something he once longed for. Whatever it was, he now found in you.

You looked over to Abel. His expression is neutral,, revealing nothing to you.

“Um, Duke…sir?” You cleared your throat.

He practically leapt back. Except it happened before you could blink and he kept his hands awkwardly in front of him.

“Ah, yes.” He dusted off himself and brushed his clothes. “Forgive me. I got carried away.”

He looked at you once more, but now as if he knew you.

“Is there anything you could do to help her?” Abel's voice was strained with a cordial air, clipped with an agitation.

You reached out to him. Brushing your hands through his hair to rest momentarily on his cheek.

He closed his eyes for a brief moment. His brow furrowing and his mouth twisting to one side before he slightly moved away from your hand.

His face was back to normal, but a nagging feeling within you told him he wasn’t. It made you ache with a need to dissuade whatever it is. You wanted to repay him for all the moments he’s calmed you down and made you feel warm these last few days.

Being with Abel made you realize just how much distress Fontaine had you under. How rage got you out of bed in the morning and hatred got you through the day.

Being with Abel made you realize just how exhausting it was.

You were still learning how to exist in a calm state. How to let go of your thoughts and anger and take things one at a time.

“I can help break her tie.”

You shared a look with Abel. Your eyebrows rose into your hairline and your mouth agape. Leto’s words seemed to put Abel at ease. He unbuttoned one of the buttons of his suit jacket and held a fraction of a smile before he turned to face him.

“It will be very painful, but I—“

He paused. His ears tinging red as he cleared his throat and averted eye contact from you.

“May I,” he licked his lips, “may I have a taste of your blood?”

You looked into his eyes. It was a mistake.

They glowed with a dark unrelenting gaze. His bashfulness was no more, either way, heat rushed throughout all your senses. Your eyes fluttered as you looked anywhere but him.

“Yes.” You quickly stuttered out. “It’s—

“Are you sure?” He interrupted you and moved his head into your line of sight. Suddenly, filling up your personal space.

You blinked repeatedly and stared dumbly in response.

No one had ever asked.

You nodded silently and he only raised his eyebrows at you.

“Yes.” You said softly but with more determination than before.

With careful hands he moved your head to the side.

Burning, his mouth was burning you.

His mouth felt like hot coals being placed on your neck. He cradles your head towards his chest as if he had done it a million times. His mouth moves along your skin with the fury of a thunderstorm, swollen with the humidity of the summer air. Unrelenting and smothering, he finally bit down, something within you breaking. The evidence of its lightning touch was the thundering of your heart in your chest.

You don’t know what to do with your hands. You run them along his chest, his back. You push and pull at the fabric of his shirt, of him. All you could smell was him.

He was all you could feel.

Slowly raising his mouth from your skin, you both pant with heaving chests as you watch the small trail of blood that connects from his mouth to your skin.

Without missing a beat, he laps at the small holes left on your skin. You can’t help the moan that spills out of you, and he closes his eyes.

You slide your hands from his back into his hair.

Desperate to pull him in once more.

When he opens them, neither of you say a word. The glowing storm clouds of his eyes transform into something so dark it’s a wonder they still glow at all.

Without breaking eye contact, he swiped his tongue along his lips to taste more of your blood. Your eyes dart across his face, desperate to catch each movement.

He moved closer to you, mouthing along your neck and sniffed deeply at your skin, pushing his nose firmer against you. He breathed out of his mouth. The warmth of his breath searing into your pores.

You couldn’t take it.

“One more,” he panted into your neck. “Just one more.”

“Please.” You practically pant back into his mouth.

You aren’t aware of much of anything at this point. You're lost in tides of air and whirring winds and you aren’t sure you want it to end.

As he pulls up to you once more, you surge towards him in unison, unaware of just how much strength you were using.

He makes a small oomf sound as you thud into his chest. He puts his hands at your hips and holds you tentatively.

Your mouth clamps onto his neck with just as much fervor. You felt more desperate than he did. You felt like you weren’t as sensual. That you sucked and slurped at his skin like some rabid creature, but the sounds coming from you told you just how wrong you were.

His pants were growing short, sharper, almost transitioning into a low keening wine.

“Fuck.” He whimpered into your ear before pulling you off of him by your hair. An action you would have taken into offense if it was anyone else, but right now after what you both had done, you don’t know what the lines of inappropriate and appropriate were anymore.

“And here I thought I was the only woman for you.”

You both took a step away from each other. Leto straightened his posture and clasped his hands formally behind his back.

You stood wide eyed.

She had your face. Only a bit older in comparison, but you knew your own face when you saw it.

“I think it is past due time for Abel to have another lover.” A man had interrupted. And not just any man, but a man who was the spitting image of Fontaine, save for the African accent and no beard. His hair was much tamer in style, and he had an equal air of superiority that Leto carried, and he seems like the type to not play about it.

He was better than everyone, and he wanted anyone who crossed his path to know it. He barely made eye contact with anyone else in the room. The only reason he seemed interested in your existence was because of how you and Leto seemed lost in one another moments before.

“Forgive me, my love.” Leto cleared his throat and avoided eye contact with you as well. His ears tinging pink before he continued. “I assure you I have not taken up a lover of any kind.”

“No?'' She stepped closer to Leto and ran a hand through his hair.

His shoulders fell into a more casual posture, and his expression softened.

“She’s a fledgling.”

“I think it's time we made our leave.”

You turned towards Abel.

His voice did not reveal his feelings, but from the look in his eyes and the slight frown on his face, it was clear how he felt. A storm of guilt brewed in the pit of your stomach. You had only been with him for a short period of time, but you couldn't help the feeling that you committed some type of betrayal. However, not out of some loyalty, that he was some sort of only being you could be tied to, or that he was some sort of lover, but you felt some type of way about having that moment in front of him.

You still would have done it. You dont regret it in the slightest, but he shoulnd’t have been here to see it.

You sighed. Not caring to hide the agitation in your voice.

“I would love for someone to explain to me what that means instead of acting like I don't exist.”

Everyone turned to look atr Abel for some reason, and that irritated you even further. The rage boiled over within you. You could no longer see who or what was in the room, only what you were feeling.

“I know, through the magic, it feels like she's been a vampire for ten years, but if you’ve heard her story, it's only been for a short amount of time .” Abel said through his teeth.

“Well. . .” the woman who looked like you started. She eyed you up and down hungrily, “If she currently doesn’t belong to anyone. . “

“No.” Abel grabbed your arm and moved you behind him.

“I only made an agreement with him, and I don't have any allegiance to you whatsoever.”

“I understand her position of not being taught the proper edicate for how things work amongst us, but for you Abel there is no excuse!” Leto raised his voice. His eyes a startling eerie glow of a stormy blue-grey.

A wave of energy would have knocked you off your feet if you didn't grab Abel’s arm in time. He was much stronger than you were, so he didn’t seem to be affected by whatever invisible wave was swirling around in the room. He uncharacteristically glared at Leto. His apparent disrespectful attitude unwavering.

The man who had the same face of Fontaine looked you and Abel down with a pathetic disdain.

‘Where is the other one?” He asked as if he was offended that a copy of himself existed.

“What other one?” Abel spat. His eyes closing and his shoulders scrunching up as he waved his arms.

“What the fuck,” he yelled, his fangs bared and his eys glowing a dazzingly dangerous yet beatiful yellow, “is going on? What aren't you telling me?”

“Abel did you not tell them?” the woman with your face smacked her teeth and looked back at Abel with a glare.

“I was getting to it.” He looked much more sympathetic.

“It looked much more like you were about to put your tongue down another woman’s throat if you ask me.”

“Enough!’ she turned back to give the man a look. “Does it look like I care? If you can’t stand to be in the same room as Leto so badly, then you go find Jay!”

He smacked his teeth with a frown, and then suddenly looked over to you.

The sound and look on his face at that moment made him look so much like Fontaine. Anger rushed through your senses once more.

“Wipe that look off your face.’ He scoffed at you before making his way out the door, “I promise you, I hold no resemblance to whoever this other vampire may be.”

He spared one more look at Abel. This time with much less disgust.

“Follow me.”

Abel looked towards you instead.

“Go.” Leto commanded and Abel glared at him.

Silently, he followed. Not bothering to hide his frown.

You eyed him trepidly.

What was all this about?

-

Yo-yo didn’t like the sight of this.

A woman who looked just like you but at least ten years older walked in. Behind her, a man that looked just like Fontaine.

He kept his hair in a sizable fro on his head with a proper edge up that was faded at the temples. A smaller amount of facial hair that was way better groomed than Fontaine would ever attempt.

He was just as fancily clad as the other two men that looked alike.

“This is bad. She’s drunk that other vampire’s blood.” Slick whispered into her ear.

“Shut the fuck up before someone hears us in here!” She whisper-shouted at him.

They had snuck in, but whatever glamor Slick had placed on them had only lasted so long.

Yo-yo chewed on her lip as she watched you all sit down on a large couch. This vampire was just as strong as the one called Leto. Not only that, but she also had your face.

That meant big things. Things they couldn’t change.

A prophecy or some shit.

“Is that why you kept looking at me so strangly?” Yo-yo watched you ask. “Because you know. . .her?”

“He’s only ever met me like this.”

You nodded. Not really looking at either of them, making the woman frown in sympathy.

“My name is Shante.”

“Why do you all have our faces?”

Shante shared a look with Abel.

“Straight to the point I see.” She smiled. “I was the same way when it was my first time. I know it must have been hard and confusing.”

“Hard and confusing is an understatement.” You huffed bitterly.

She let out a short sigh, more out of nerves and not frustration.

You looked up at her oddly.

Yo-yo could only wonder why.

“I won’t hold you long or beat around the bush.”

“I think that’s best.” Abel clasped her hand in his.

“If you want to get technical, we are the originators of these faces and you all are our dopplegangers.”

You nodded, wringing your hands in your lap. “I think I know what those are.”

“You're always going to have a Leto and a Ghezo.”

Shante leveled at you with a serious tone.

This made you leap up with a hiss, baring your fangs.

“I don’t need Fontaine!”

“But you do.” Shante stood up and hissed back at you. “Without him you will never know peace. If you kill him, you might as well kill yourself too!”

“Good!” You screamed! Your voice sends a shock of power throughout the room making everyone still, even Yo-yo and Slick.

“What?” You broke the silence. “What’s so surprising about that after everything I’ve been through?”

“Forgive me,” Shante abruptly sat. “I didn’t know things were that bad between you.”

You sat with a self assured huff. Appearing more calm now that no one was about to tell you to get over your emotions.

“What makes you so sure, I need him?” You swallowed, looking straight ahead and not making eye contact with anyone. “What makes you think I could get over it?”

But everyone knew what you were really asking.

“I once was mad just as you were.” Shante said softly.

You looked at her with watery eyes.

“I was turned just like you.” Shante looked at her and Leto’s hands clasped together in her lap. “Ghezo had made a deal with someone. They promised him an eternity of power. . . But they also warned him about the cost. The people he would lose and now he’d never get close to anyone.”

She drew in a shaky breath and you cooled closer to her. She smiled softly. A tear falling down her cheek. Leto wiped at it with his thumb.

“He talked with all of us, his wives. Some said yes without thinking, but I said no.” She looked up at you, with a stream of tears falling down her face.

Yo-yo wiped a tear of her own as she watched you both cry. Slick put a hand on her shoulder, and she didn’t brush it away.

“I was in love with being human and the idea of cheating death didn’t sit right with me. Long story short, I woke up like this, against my will.”

“What did you do?” You whispered.

“I left him. I left my home. . . And then I found Leto.”

“So. . . You stayed with him and for some reason just forgave Ghezo?”

“I wish I could tell you more, but you and Abel have to find your own way. . . And Fontaine.”

“I’m going to kill him.”

Yo-yo couldn’t hear anymore.

“I think we got what we came for.”

Slick didn’t say anything. Nodding, he snapped his fingers, and they were both gone.

[railroad-migraine]

In honour of Legend of Vox Machina coming out, can we have a Percy x (fem/gender neutral) reader with the prompt "You feel like home to me." Maybe reader also lost their home (or they were from Whitestone too)

'Welcome Home'

-> Percy x GN!Reader

Notes: Angst and fluff, hurt comfort. I started writing this piece in January 2022. As of June 2023, I have now watched TLOVM. Sorry it took a while Anon, but I wanted to save your lovely request for when I eventually got into Vox Machina 💙 Can be read as platonic or romantic

~ Poet

*****

It wasn't meant to be like this.

Things had not gone to plan. What was the plan, you say? That is debatable depending on who you'd ask.

To start, Vax was unfortunately spotted skulking around the enemy's camp. That then lead to small confrontation, one that he'd be fine to handle all by himself, one where he was suspiciously poked and prodded at innocently, but Keyleth instinctually stepped in to save him - thus getting the whole party involved and quickly overwhelmed. It was manageable until the exact moment where Grog lopped off the head of one of the bandits.

To put it simply, all hell broke loose and it all went to shit.

However, in the end, when the bandits lay dead and smloldering by the campfire, it was a victory for Vox Machina.

A victory, maybe. But not quite a win.

Wounds were in need of tending to, and Pike was far too exhausted to treat everyone. Camping in the woods did not seem to be the best option, the trees offering little cover, and neither did the cliff face nearby. Frustrated, tired, hungry - voices raising at each other prickled the hairs at the back of your neck and you knew you had to step up. To be the adult.

"There is a village," you start, but no one chooses to listen, your voice just another one in the argument.

"There is a village," you repeat, a little more firm and insistant, and the others begin to withdraw, eyes falling onto you, "not far from here. I- I didn't mention it before because it doesn't belong on the map. Not anymore, at least.

"We can go there, set up camp, sit down and just shut up for a few hours," you sigh.

Most of the party look hesitant but Scanlan raises a brow and shrugs with an easy nonchalance that you envy. "If you say it's safe, I'm down."

It wasn't meant to be like this.

"It is." You hope. "I promise.

Percy watches you carefully, the fading light of the Sun behind him casting shadows on his face, sharpens his already sharp jawline even further until it cuts into his coat's collar. Something dangerous in his expression. "Lead on, then," but he doesn't sound convinced.

And so you lead your friends to the home and earth that once nurtured your childhood, the very same that you abandoned all those years ago in favour of adventure.

You were still young. Like a child, scarrless, soft, green and new to the greater world that waited for you beyond your doorstep.

It wasn't meant to be like this, you think as you fall to your knees, taking in the grim sight before you. It's hard to tell what exactly happened, whether the homes had been raided and intentionally burned down, or if it had been a simple accident and the townspeople luckily fled somewhere safe.

How long had it been since you left home? What seemed like yesterday were many, many months for your people, and anything can happen in that time apart.

But you never expected to be returning home to a graveyard.

It wasn't meant to be like this.

"I'm sorry."

You sniffle and quickly wipe your nose with the sleeve of your shirt, choking back a bitter laugh. "Percy." He pulls his mouth into a straight line, a grimace of sorts. "You can be a thorn in my side at times, but why should you be sorry?"

He shifts his weight on his feet. "Because... because it's what people might have said to me when I was in a similar state. I'm not sure if it would ever have made me feel better, but I suppose it shows some level of... respect. Condolences. Comfort, sometimes. Or so I've heard."

He pulls his coat tighter around his torso, the bite in the air unforgiving even as you mourn for your childhood home while your knees press into dirt. You risk a glance up at his face, and his forlorn expression shatters your already broken heart. He feigns a weak smile, and ducks his chin in sympathy. "It's not for everyone, I suppose."

It's a cold comfort as your grip on the ashes of your home loosens, and slips through your fingers, like sand lost in the wind.

Percy says your name, clear and grounding, and you manage to tear your gaze from what's left of your history. "Look at me." You crane your neck to look to where he looms over your hunched form. "Home is a feeling... I know that more than anybody."

Slowly, so slowly and gentle as if caught in slow motion, he crouches down to meet your height. He appraises you for a hesitant moment, then reaches out to wipe a tear that trails down your cheek, one that you had accidentally neglected. It smears across your skin smoothly, leaving a clean line in the thin layer of dust you had acquired since the battle and trek over here.

He looks at you softly, and you nearly sob from the incredible amount of emotions you feel all at once. You grip his hand like a lifeline and press it into your face so that you can lean into the comfort he's providing, and a shudder washes over you at the warmth radiating from his glove.

Percy nudges your chin up with his free hand, and you have no choice but to meet his watery eyes.

"And you feel like home to me."

In that moment, you know you feel the same for him.

*****

[posts this and RUNS]

[divine-misfortune]

"don't you dare fuckin' come, because if you do, i'll come, too." - MountainDew ♡♡

It was like being hidden under the draping arms of a willow tree the way Dew's hair fell over his shoulders. Safe and concealed from the world behind that pale curtain, it's where Mountain falls apart. Where he's allowed to drift aimlessly in a warm, vacant, state.

His thoughts are a million miles away. Concerns even further, Dew made sure of that - it was the main reason he had the earth ghoul folded up under him. The weight of the world was a heavy burden to shoulder, and it weighed him down like cement but Dew came along to give him permission to float with firm hands and an edged tone. Unraveled him from the bramble of his own mind with a patience that made it so easy to fall.

And Mountain was grateful.

Grateful for the way Dew pushed his knees up to his shoulders, how his eyes never seemed to stray, that he fucked into him hard enough to keep every worry buried under the mounds of cotton filling his skull.

He had to force his eyes to focus on the ghoul poised above him and even then the only thing he could seem to fix his gaze on was the kiss bruised red of his lips. Mountain reached for him, to be sure Dew, as ethereal as he was, was real. His thumb dragged over his lower lip and Dew wasted no time kissing the rough pad of his finger, earning a breathy giggle from him.

"Take me so good baby, got so wet and I haven't even touched your cock..."

Mountain lifted his head and whimpered at the sight of himself laying hard against his belly. Neglected, the tip was an angry shade of red as it leaked like a fucking faucet into the lines on his stomach. A mess it he couldn't make himself care about.

"You like dripping on daddy's cock?"

His breath hitched. Hand flying to clamp over his mouth before a shameful moan could spill out but with a particularly rough thrust, enough to jolt his entire body, Mountain couldn't muffle it. Perfectly wanton. Dew grinned.

"Know you do, can tell...Fuck, you get so messy, just like Rain does. He's so good for me, but you're my good boy, right?"

Mountain nodded as the color bloomed like roses in his cheeks.

"Say it."

"I-" His voice warbled. It's the first time Dew's told him to speak in hours, and Mountain was entirely content to be the docile pet Dew liked him to be. He could've easily forgotten he had a voice to begin with. His tongue was heavy and formed .the words clumsily. "I'm your good boy."

Dew groaned as he pressed back into the velvety warmth that was the earth ghoul. No matter how much prep, Mountain was always tight. Like his body just wanted to pull Dew in and keep him forever.

"Feed yourself to me."

He could feel the splotchy flush creeping deeper into his skin, claiming him in embarrassment, as he swirled two fingers through the small puddle of pre gathering in the crease of his hip. Hot and sticky. Dew's lips parted automatically to take his offering. Watching his fingers disappear in his mouth made him dizzy, but it was nothing compared to the feeling that washed over him at the first flick of that clever tongue. Mountain felt his cock practically jump, something flipping in his gut.

Dew let out a sound somewhere between a moan and a growl as he sucked each finger clean. He pressed forward, forcing those thick digits damn near down his own throat.

"Oh fuck-" The fire ghoul breathed as he pulled off with a little pop, leaving Mountain glistening with his spit. "You even taste good for me too, sweet like honey."

"Daddy," he whined too far under to feel the typical shame he might have on any other occasion. No room to be shy when Dew had put smoke where something as trivial as humiliation once was. "Harder, harder, I can feel it I'm-"

Nails pressed into the back of his thighs. Dew's sweet smile turned cold, stern. It made him feel small.

"Don't you dare fucking cum," he punctuated his sentence, his warning, his command, with a thrust that hit home. The head of his cock bumped and dragged against that sweet spot that made Mountain's jaw go slack and his eyes roll back. It didn't help him stay away from the edge whatsoever. "Because if you do, I'll cum too, and I'm not fucking done with you. Still smart enough to remember your own name, daddy hasn't fucked you stupid yet."

[chunkypossum]

Mother Save Us From Your Twisted fate

From ACOSF: 

Eris glowered. “Has this been the plan the whole time? To string me along, make me an enemy of my father, then use the Trove against all of us?”

“You made yourself an enemy of your father,” Cassian said, smiling faintly. “When he finds out, I wonder if he’ll let your hounds rip you to shreds, or if he’ll do it himself.”

Eris paled slightly. “Don’t you mean if he finds out?” Cassian said nothing. Kept his face neutral.

Nesta stifled her smugness and did the same. Eris observed them.

... For the first time since Nesta had known the male, uncertainty banked the fire in his gaze.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ A little snippet under the cut

Read Complete on AO3 and MIND THE TAGS

Azriel found Eris on the side of the mountain… again. Though he hadn’t been allied with the Night Court for long, Azriel learned pretty quickly that he had a few favorite places to go when he wanted to be alone. This was one of them. After he missed his last meeting with Keir, Rhys had sent Azriel down to the Hewn City to see if Eris was somewhere within the mountain, knowing as well as Azriel did by now that Eris was known to hide out in the forgotten spaces of this cursed place. He knew he should just leave him there, let Rhys know and go about his other duties so he could leave the Hewn City as soon as possible but something rooted him to the spot. The shadows swam around him pestering to join the lordling in the blistering wind outside.  Shadows wrapped around his wrist and pulled him towards the small opening that would lead him to the ledge outside. He really didn't want to go but let them lead him away anyway.  The sight was more pitiful than he thought it would be. Eris was curled in on himself, holding tightly to his knees tucked up against his chest with his face buried into them. His wild red hair whipped around him in the wind, completely broken out of the neat braids they had been in.  It had been a while since Azriel had to talk with him. Rhys had pressured Cassian to take on the responsibility of dealing with Eris in recent weeks. Even though Azriel knew he was the one who requested it, seeing Eris now, a slight tinge of regret washed through him at that.  Without saying a word, Azriel walked over to him, footsteps drowned out by the howling wind and came to sit beside Eris. Far enough away that they didn't touch but close enough that he could if he wanted to. He didn’t want to.  Putting up a shield of magic from his siphons in a sphere around them, Azriel looked down at the male who had yet to acknowledge him and smiled as he noticed the way the shadows played in the tangles of his hair. Pests. “What are you doing out here?” He asked  Eris mumbled something without lifting his head that sounded something like ‘None of your business.’ prompting a chuckle from Azriel. Their relationship had gotten more confusing over the past few months and it was hard for Azriel to know where the line was now that they weren’t strictly enemies. The Mor situation would hang over all of their interactions until the truth was out but ever since Azriel got himself caught spying in the forests of Autumn, things had gotten infinitely more complicated. “Brat.” Azriel said through a laugh. He didn’t press further and sat there in silence while Eris stewed and Azriel watched. It wasn’t uncomfortable and somehow Azriel knew Eris would tell him when he was ready.  After a while, He raised his head and spoke. “Cassian threatened to tell my father about our little … arrangement.”

The songs I wrote this to Annnnd the Azris Tag List: @iftheshoef1tz @born-to-riot @pathfinderofnight @fell-in-luvs @@fieldofdaisiies @aktrain @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @secret-third-thing @acourtofladydeath @pippsmcgee @talibunny30

[laurentidal]

House Defending

Jenn looked out the window and saw the pretty realtor leading someone new up to the house next door. Sara had been showing the house for five months, but Jenn hadn't let any offers come in just yet. She was still looking for that little something in a neighbor. She remained unsatisfied.

She walked over to the house and let herself in, just as she always did. She could here Sara talking from somewhere deeper into the building. Showing the man the kitchen or the back bedroom. Then the pair walked around the corner and found Jenn sitting on the couch waiting for them.

"And who do we have today, Sara?" Jenn purred at the realtor.

"This is Max, Jenn. Max, this is Jenn. She lives next door and like to come meet the prospective buyers."

Max, for his part, had a lot of trouble stopping his eyes from locking directly onto Jenn's deep and prominent cleavage. He stuttered a hello and Jenn chuckled in a disarming way.

"He's very cute," she said winking at Sara. "I'm glad you brought him around. Did you already get the full tour, sweetie?"

Max was blushing deeply now.

"Not yet," Sara said. "I still have to show him the bedroom."

Jenn's lips curled into a smile. "I can take him. I spent enough time up there when Dale lived here. Follow me, Maxy." She stood abruptly, making sure her tits wobbled strongly in her low cut top. And when she turned, Max got a look at her ass. It was round and full and he found he had even more trouble keeping his eyes off it then her chest. At least she couldn't see him staring with her back turned.

"I knew the old owner well," Jenn was saying. "He used to treat me very kindly. I've been trying to meet the possible owners so that I know the person who moves in will be able to fill Dale's shoes."

Her ass swayed as she walked and talked. Down the hall. Up the stairs. Max stared and listened.

"We'd argue about things. You wouldn't believe how we used to go back and forth." She stressed those words, timing them with the sway of her hips. "Back and forth. And then he'd realize he couldn't win against me. It was impossible to resist. So he quit trying. He stopped fighting and gave into me. He surrendered. He learned that it was easier to just listen and obey. Don't you think, Max?"

"Huh?" Max asked, distracted.

"Poor boy. You must be so tired of fighting your urges," she said as they entered the bedroom. "You've been trying so hard not to stare and offend. But I bet you've been staring the whole way here, weren't you. Of course you were. Look at the bulge in your pants. You don't get that from looking at the drywall."

She pulled her shirt down, letting her tits spill out into clear view.

"Sleepy Max wants to look at these."

He nodded, unblinking. His mouth fell open and a small line of drool began to drip off his chin.

"So cute. Sara, dear!" Jenn called. "I believe we're ready for you."

Sarah walked in the room, completely naked.

"Get me ready for him, doll."

"Yes, Mistress," the realtor replied happily. She stripped Jenn's clothes off , then Max's. She put Max on his knees at the foot of the bed.

"Now Max, you're going to get something of an audition. Satisfy me, and I will allow you to put an offer in on this house. I need to know that Dale's replacement will be able to handle me. But from the looks of that monster, we may finally have a winner. Sara, as always."

"Yes, Mistress," she said again before retreating to the chair where she'd watch them fuck. Part of Sara wanted the commission. But a deeper part would miss these weekly sessions. Perhaps one of Jenn's other neighbors was looking to sell.

[frozenjokes]

Cake (Sir Chloe) // Animatic Script

been thinking about this for a while allow me to indulge in the thing I’ll never make

*small note, everyone but Scar and Cleo are ghosts, and do not bleed (except Cub)

Eyes on your neck

Camera pans down on Scar, quite a bit worse for wear. His arms are bound behind his back and if his legs are in frame, they are also bound and he is sitting awkwardly, face stony

I should put you down like a sick dog

Pan up to Cub, looking down on Scar. He speaks the lyrics with some conviction, but they both know this ain’t happening. The key to Scar’s binds is strung around his neck

Look at yourself

The scene shifts, background distorted and tinted pink or orange. Cub’s conviction is gone, but he’s confused, not afraid. He looks at the camera (to Scar), but his eyes don’t quite focus.

Thinking you deserve / what you don't got

Back to Scar, speaking smugly. He flexes his claws, no longer bound. / The focus is back on Cub. The distortion on the background fades slightly but not completely. It seems to occur to him something is wrong, that he made a mistake. (key gone lol) Just as he’s starting to turn to run, hard cut to the next line.

Craving

Pan out on a wide shot of Cub in Ren’s bedroom, Ren on the left at the doorway and Cub on the right in bed, jolting upright. His neck and back and cut to pieces, and blue blood is basically everywhere (he’s a bit of a leaky faucet)

I don't need / a reason for cake

Bust shot of Cub, looking up at something behind Ren. He says nothing. / Shot of Ren standing in the doorway. He cocks his head, maybe starts to say something before Scar comes out of nowhere, ripping through him. Ren’s form dissipates, but Scar isn’t looking at Ren.

The salivating

Side profile of Scar speaking, almost unhappily, but equally dazed.

It keeps me / awake

Front shot of Scar continuing to speak, possibly gesturing above himself to a crude image thought bubble of him and Cub running away to Cleo’s boat at the edge of the island. / Cub stares at him, mouth gaping just slightly. He closes it, looking some amount focuses or determined.

Just another ache, ache

Scar and Cub running together, hand in hand. The shot faces their backs, buildings of the shopping distinct rushing by. Cub pushes Scar suddenly out of the way and is hit by a potion that flies in from off screen. Zedaph floats into view, but doesn’t have time to react before Scar mauls him out of the air. It is animal-like.

I'll hit it off

Front shot of Scar picking Cub up and continuing on, stony.

with an open mouth

Cub notices through the daze of the weakness effect Doc, obscured by brush. He fails to warn Scar before he is dropped, a net from Doc’s gun taking Scar the fuck out

Talking the way / I want it

Doc scoops Cub off the ground, assuming him to be kidnapped. The effects of the potion are beginning to wear off. / Cub murders the fuck out of Doc, either with a dagger to his stomach or just uses his hands. He’s got claws for a reason (the reason is aesthetics but)

I'll hit it off with an open / mouth

In the swamp, Scar and Cub (foreground) stalk Cleo (background) where she’s standing guard by her boat on the muddy beach, speaking urgently into their walkie-talkie. Cub drifts into the edge of the clearing, about to attack, but some kind of clarity and/or pain strikes him. His neck leaks a little blood, thematically probably. He hesitates. / Bust shot of Cleo looking up and seeing him. She is not scared or surprised, facing him determinedly

Talking the way I want it

Cub lunges for an attack, slamming into Cleo’s large shield. Cleo deflects him again and again, he can not get past her despite his ferocity. (ghost skill issue. they’re a mother fucking pirate baybe)

*ending instrumental*

Scar comes out of the treeline, looking appropriately deranged and haggard. Somewhere he got a sword, which he probably shouldn’t have. Cleo raises their sword when they see him along with their shield. epic sword fight ensues. Despite having Cub on her back, she is kicking both of their asses, keeping up with Scar’s sword while holding Cub off with her shield, minimal injuries. Scar’s been starving to death for like a month and also a bit out of practice so he’s taking major Ls. Cleo knocks him clean off his feet and into the mud, turning around in time to meet Cub with her shield for the final time. But Cub finds the bottom of their shield, wrenching it up with both hands and sending Cleo tumbling backwards, right onto Scar’s arced sword.

Scar gets up, rolling a sufficiently stabbed through the stomach Cleo off of himself. He’s wearing that signature good times smirk and mighty pleased with himself. He ignores Cub completely as he walks toward the boat, not looking back. Cub looks almost lost, he doesn’t know what to do. He certainly doesn’t look happy about Cleo, that’s his friend :(

Cub is sitting on the boat while Scar readies them to set sail. (Background) Cleo, in the foreground, is lying face down in the mud. Cub is staring at Cleo as she stirs. He looks away. It’s clear he does so on purpose. Cleo pushes herself up with her arms, sword still sticking through her. (she’s a zombie lol) Cut to black as the music trills.