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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years ago

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Nuptiae Sub Rosa, Chapter 16

Rated Explicit / Read it here on AO3

It’s a full minute before he can calm her down enough to take a look at her injuries. Her gasping sobs, the fingernails clawing at his back - she’s scaring the shit out of him, but she’s alive. That’s better than he’d feared upon walking into his apartment and finding her blood-soaked and motionless on the floor.

“Let me see,” he pleads, peeling her arms from around his neck, trying to create enough space between them to pinpoint the source of the blood. Each time he pulls back, she draws closer, and he can’t stop thinking that the way her heart is pounding she’s going to bleed out before he can do anything about it.

She finally lets him lay her back down, and he gently pops open the buttons on her blouse, noting that it’s not torn or damaged at all. When he peels the sticky fabric away from the skin of her belly, he doesn’t see any injuries. Rolling her to her side, he checks her back and sees more blood-smeared but unharmed skin. Satisfied that she’s physically okay, he scoops her up off the floor and sits back, pulling her into his lap. She grabs fistfuls of his sweater, shaking violently and struggling to get control of her breath. He rocks her gently, smoothing his blood-stained hands over her hair and face, shushing her softly.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you, you’re okay,” he reassures her, hoping that he’s not telling lies.

Her sobs are slowing to whimpers when the police arrive, followed closely by EMS; his neighbors probably have them on speed dial at this point, as often as gunfire or other questionable noises can be heard from apartment forty-two. As Mulder turns to tell the officers that they are both FBI agents, Scully starts to scramble away from him in a panic, pulling her open blouse closed and distancing herself from her partner, whose lap she certainly should not be sitting in. He grabs her arm and tries to pull her back to him, the panicked look she gives him confirming his suspicions.

“It’s okay, Scully, it doesn’t matter,” he says softly, but she shakes her head and settles on the floor beside him instead, allowing him to drape his arm over her shoulder.

The EMTs check her and confirm what he’d already determined; there is no identifiable source of the blood. She has no wounds, no punctures, or even abrasions. They both know as samples are collected for analysis that the tests will show that the blood is hers, and yet there is no answer for how it exited her body. Not any that she’s willing to accept, anyway. Her clothes are bagged as evidence. They are exchanged for one of Mulder’s T-shirts and a pair of basketball shorts that fit her like capri pants and have to be cinched with a rubber band so they don’t slide down her tiny hips.

It’s hours before the last of the crime scene photos are taken, the last witness statements are given, and the door is locked behind the last officer. Looking at her curled into a corner of the couch, her neck splotched like a watercolor painting, he gets to the work of making things okay again. It’s not something he ever hoped to be an expert at, and yet he’s done it so many times it almost feels routine.

“Hey,” he says softly, cringing when she startles at his hand on her forearm. “Let’s get you in the shower.”

He leads her into the bathroom with a hand on her back, switching on the water to let it get hot before he grabs a clean towel from the linen closet. She removes his borrowed clothes, frowning at the red stains around the collar of his white shirt as she hands it to him wordlessly. He leaves her, tossing the clothes into the hamper and quickly stripping his bed to put on clean sheets. It’s fairly late and she’s so exhausted, he’s hoping that he can convince her to stay. As he tugs on the last corner of the fitted sheet, he hears a sound from the bathroom and freezes, listening. He hears it again, a sharp breath, a stifled sob, and he rushes in to check on her.

“Scully, are you okay?” he asks, trying to keep the panic out of his voice.

“Yeah,” she croaks, but he knows she’s not.

He pulls his own blood-stained shirt and sweater over his head, stripping off his jeans and boxers before he opens the shower curtain a crack and peeks behind it. She has her back to him with her arms crossed in an X over her chest, and she’s shaking as though the stream of water were made of ice. He pulls the curtain wider and steps in, moving close and wrapping his arms over hers so that her back is pressed against his chest. She relaxes a bit under his touch, but along with it, her cries resume in earnest, racking sobs reverberating through her tiny frame. Loosening his grip, he touches her shoulders and turns her to face him, searching her for the answer to what she needs.

“There’s so much blood,” she whispers, and he understands.

“Close your eyes,” he says, and then goes about washing it all away.

He turns her body to direct the spray towards each blood-caked patch of skin as needed, gently wiping with a washcloth to remove the more stubborn spots. He lifts her arms one by one, washes her hair, and checks every hidden crevice twice to be sure he hasn’t left any trace behind. When the water runs clear, he cradles her face in his hand and gently swipes down each cheek, wiping away the tracks of mascara stained tears. Satisfied that there’s nothing left to see, he kisses her softly on the mouth and she opens her eyes.

“All clean,” he says with a soft smile, and she leans heavily against him, her wet cheek cool against his chest.

“Thank you,” she replies quietly.

They stand like that for a while until the water starts to cool, and then he releases her, turning the knob up a bit higher.

“You’re about to run out of hot water,” he says, stepping back towards the end of the tub, “I’m going to make you something to eat, okay? You can grab whatever clothes you want to wear.”

She nods, and he gets out, barely drying off before he throws on clean clothes and then works quickly to finish making the bed. In the living room, he carefully lays some old blankets over the blood-stained floorboards where he found her and takes a quick look around for anything else that he should cover or put away before she comes out. Satisfied that all the obvious triggers have been removed, he hurries into the kitchen to find something to eat, resolving that if she refuses to stay here, he’ll insist on going back to her apartment with her.

———

The water starts to cool again, and she turns it up all the way, quickly warming her body before she shuts it off and steps out. Mulder has left a clean towel on the counter by the sink and she smiles a little at his thoughtfulness, a pained kind of smile.

This is entirely her fault, and she’s so ashamed. Padgett was right about one thing he wrote in his book; she was trying to get Mulder’s attention. But not for the reasons on the page, not to get him to see her in some certain way; Mulder sees her more clearly than anyone else on this planet ever has, and maybe ever will.

She just wanted him to want her, to initiate something that she can’t bring herself to initiate. The way he’d reacted to learning she had dinner with Kresge, his jealousy and possessiveness, she wanted that feeling again. Was that really why she’d knocked on Padgett’s door? There’s no other explanation. She certainly wasn’t attracted to Padgett, or intrigued by him in the way he seemed to think. He was nothing more than a tool, a way to make Mulder feel threatened so he’d come to claim her again. The fact that she chose to endanger her safety and their investigation over simply telling Mulder what she wanted from him is as embarrassing as it is scary. Will it always be this way between them? Will one always chase as the other evades, playing guessing games and sending subtle cues that can’t be picked up on, or will they someday arrive on the same page?

Loneliness is a choice.

Is she choosing loneliness by refusing to let herself love Mulder, all because she’s afraid? And afraid of what? Too many things to name: rejection, failure, judgement, vulnerability. It’s easy to rest on the fact that it’s against bureau policy, but in truth it wouldn’t be hard to hide. That’s the easiest answer, but not the honest one. There are a whole lot of options between whatever it is they’re doing now and actually being a couple, but she hasn’t been able to so much as entertain the idea of any of them.

She tucks the towel under her arms and rifles through Mulder’s dresser, searching for clothes that won’t completely drown her. Picking through his sock drawer, she touches something hard and wraps her fingers around it, pulling out a framed photograph. She gasps audibly when she sees it, turning quickly towards the open bedroom door to confirm that he didn’t hear her. She traces her fingers over the glass, a lump forming in her throat at the full, beaming smiles on their mouths and her hand planted firmly on his chest. Her memories of that day feel like scenes from a movie that she saw rather than experienced, and she’s surprised by how genuinely happy they both look. She wonders why Mulder has never shown this to her, and how often he looks at it himself. The ache that already resided in her chest grows more persistent, begging her to release herself from this torment. And she wants to, but she doesn’t know how. Replacing the photo exactly how she found it, she slips into a pair of his boxers and his Knicks T-shirt, pausing to pull in a lungful of his smell before tugging it over her head.

She pads out into the living room, immediately spotting the blankets that cover the bloodstained floor and walking carefully around them into the kitchen. Mulder is standing at the stove, a dish towel flung over his shoulder and a spatula in one hand. He turns as he hears her enter, smiling that impish smile that always makes her heart skip a beat, and she walks determinedly towards him.

“I’m making grilled cheese, I hope that’s sufficient-” he begins, but stops when she threads her arms around his waist, gripping him tightly and burrowing her head under the crook of his chin. “Hey,” he says softly, wrapping his free arm across her back, “you okay?”

“I Iove you,” she says tightly against his chest. “I love you, and I’m sorry I’ve never told you.”

He freezes for a split second, and she wonders if it was the wrong choice. He sets the spatula down on the counter and pulls away from her a little, putting his hand on her chin and tilting her face up to look at him. She wants to run away, to hide, to never have to see the look on his face. But he waits until her eyes meet his, and she doesn’t find anything there except love shining right back at her. She feels her chin pucker as relief washes over her.

“I know,” he says with the softest little smile on his mouth. “Even if you weren’t ready to tell me yet, I knew.”

He stoops a little and she reciprocates by pushing up onto her toes, the kiss sweet and comforting in the best kind of way, in exactly the way she needs. Suddenly he startles a little and pulls away.

“Shit!” he exclaims, grabbing the spatula and flipping over the sandwich to reveal that the bottom is black and burnt.

He gives her a sarcastic glare and shakes his head, and she can’t help but laugh.

New, un-burnt sandwiches are cooked and eaten, an extra toothbrush is dug out from under the sink, and while they don’t discuss it, she crawls into bed beside him as the clock reads nearly 1 a.m. Something feels a little bit lighter, a little bit different, though it’s hard to say exactly what. Mulder pulls her close, nearly nose to nose, with her leg threaded between his and his arm draped over her waist. She recalls him telling their neighbors in Arcadia that they’d slept “curled up like little baby cats” and smiles to herself in the darkened room.

“What?” he asks, either sensing or seeing her smile.

“Nothing,” she says with a sigh, resting her forehead against his.

“So, what now?” he asks, and she pulls away a little.

“What now, what?” she asks.

“Well,” he begins, clearly choosing his words carefully, “maybe I read too many fairy tales as a kid, but I think when two people love each other they’re supposed to live happily ever after or something.”

“Mulder…” she isn’t quite sure how to finish what she’s trying to say.

“I’m not trying to push you or rush you, Scully. I understand that we can’t just come out and be together like normal people can, because of the work. But I don’t always understand why, even in situations where there’s no risk, you’re still so reluctant to be seen together. Some DC cops seeing me holding you isn’t the end of the world.” His tone is soft, and he brushes his fingertips over her arm lightly as he speaks, but she can feel the frustration behind his words. “I guess I just don’t understand what you want. And I don’t know how to meet your needs if I can’t figure out what they are.”

She heaves a sigh. “Bold of you to assume that I know what I want,” she says with some levity, and he chuckles. “I just don’t think I can put a label on it, Mulder. There are so many expectations that come along with that and I don’t see how they can fit inside the bizarre life we already have.”

“Okay,” he replies, “labels and logic aside, what do you want?”

“I...I don’t want to be with anyone else. And I don’t want you to be with anyone else,” she offers hesitantly.

She feels him nodding. “I kind of thought that was a given, but good to say so explicitly,” he confirms.

“And I want...closeness, like this,” she continues, brushing her fingers over his back.

“Okay,” he replies, pulling her a little closer. He’s quiet for a beat. “What about sex?”

She chuckles. “Yeah, sex would be nice,” she says with a smile in her voice.

“Thank god,” he exclaims with a relieved sigh.

“Maybe not right now, though. I’m really tired,” she adds, her final words distorted by a yawn.

“Understandable, it’s been a weird day,” he agrees, and they fall quiet.

“Hey Scully,” he speaks just as she feels herself begin to drift off.

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

She trails her hand up his shoulder to find his face in the dark, kissing him firmly.

“I love you too.”

———

There is a loud thump, followed by a prolonged scrape. That’s what wakes him, the asshole upstairs who seems to have a daily ritual of rearranging his furniture. Given, he probably doesn't appreciate the frequency of gunfire from the unit below, but it’s not nearly as frequent as the thumping. He stretches, his limbs cracking as he shakes the sleep from his muscles. It’s only when he rotates his neck side to side that he realizes, or more accurately remembers, that Scully is still here.

A smile stretches across his mouth. She’s never slept over before, not the whole night through, and it feels meaningful. Her back is to him, the slope of her waist in his Knicks T-shirt revealed just above the blanket that’s draped over her hip. His flagging morning erection finds a second wind, inspired by the idea of something he hasn’t experienced in well over a decade: morning sex. Of course, she’s been through something harrowing just last night, so it would be thoughtless of him to assume she’s interested. Still, he can’t help but hope.

He scoots across the mattress and snuggles up behind her, carefully keeping his pelvis away from her backside, and loops his arm over her waist. Her breathing is deep and even, still very much asleep, and he takes some time to enjoy the softness of her body and her sleep-warm smell. She doesn’t stir, and the longer he lies there the more drowsy he becomes, eventually drifting back to sleep himself.

“Mmmmm,” she hums, shifting her hips.

His eyes shoot open; how much time has passed? He has no idea, but now his hard-on is pressed right against her ass and she is wriggling back against him in earnest. He tightens his grip on her waist and she grabs his hand, threading it up under her shirt, his shirt, and placing it directly on top of her breast. That seems like a pretty clear green light. He presses his lips against the side of her neck, dropping little kisses from her shoulder to her ear as she sighs and whimpers.

“Hi,” he whispers as he nips at her earlobe.

“Hi,” she replies breathily.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, wanting to be sure she’s really up to this.

“Like I want you to take your pants off,” she answers, and he groans.

He slips his boxers down his hips, kicking them off his feet, and then brings his hands to the set she’s wearing, dipping his fingers under the waistband.

“These too?” he asks, though he’s already pushing them slowly down her hips.

“Seems prudent,” she replies, reaching behind her back to grasp his cock and give it half a dozen slow pumps.

He gets them as far as her knees before she takes over, scissoring her legs until she can kick them over the side of the bed. He scoots closer to her, aligning them just so, and then waits. While he licks and nips her neck and shoulder, she hooks her top ankle behind his knee and reaches between her legs. His hips shift impatiently, anticipating, until he feels the tips of her fingers touch the head of his cock. He stills while she shifts a bit, arching her back to get the angle right before she presses him against her opening and he routes inside. He lets out a long, low moan. She is hot and wet and unbelievably tight, and it takes all his self control not to slam into her. She reaches one hand back and grabs his ass, squeezing it before she gives him a tap, almost like a giddy-up, and he begins a slow rhythm of deep thrusts. He returns the hand that isn’t pinned beneath him to her breast, squeezing and pinching in tandem with his thrusts, and she whimpers a little in the most delicious way. Her one hand still on his ass, she surreptitiously brings the other up to touch between her legs and he slams his eyes shut, overwhelmed by the visual.

“Jesus fuck,” he groans, waiting until the feeling passes before he dares to look again.

He wishes he could see exactly what she’s doing, more than just slivers of her arm moving, but he doesn’t want to make her self conscious or prevent her from being able to finish, so he doesn’t try to see. Instead he brings his lips to her ear, making sure she knows how much he likes it.

“You feel so good,” he whispers, feeling her fingers intermittently bump against his shaft as he moves in and out. “You have no idea how much that turns me on, you touching yourself.”

He feels her clench around him, and knows his words of reassurance are having an impact. He can’t resist picking up his pace, but notices that she’s doing the same right along with him, the motion of her arm becoming frantic. Knowing he can’t hold out much longer, he pulls her earlobe between his teeth and rolls her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and is rewarded with her sucking in a huge breath and holding it, going rigid in his arms. Her muscles contract firmly around him and it sends him over the edge, thankfully right along with her.

She’s markedly quiet in the morning, he observes, less vocal without the cover of darkness, though her orgasm seems to go on for eternity, longer than his erection can last. When he slips out of her, he reaches down and pushes two fingers inside, pressing them firmly against her front wall while she whimpers and continues to throb as he applies pressure. Her fluttering moans suddenly grow more frantic and she clamps her hand around his forearm as another, smaller orgasm erupts around his fingers. Finally, she tugs on his hand, declaring “that’s enough.”

They lay there, spent and sticky, catching their breaths for a long while. Eventually she rolls onto her back and smiles sweetly at him.

“Good morning,” she says, and he nods.

“Indeed,” he answers, smiling back. “Coffee?”

“Coffee, shower, breakfast, toothbrush,” she lists off, “not necessarily in that order. I need to go home and get some clothes. Can’t go gallivanting around town in your underwear.”

He shrugs. “Agree to disagree. Will you have breakfast with me before you go? I think you can safely do that in my underwear.”

She nods. “Deal.”

———

She studies him over her coffee cup as he sops up syrup with his last bites of pancake, his dining room table having a rare opportunity to host a meal. There will never be a perfect time, she knows, because she’s been waiting for it for nearly two years and it hasn’t come. Dr. Parenti told her time was not something she had the luxury of, that she should start as soon as possible, but life seems to keep getting in her way. She’d be about to ask before she became sick or injured, or before Mulder did. Diana arrived in her life and she felt too unsure, too fragile to risk the rejection of him saying no. Then she’d been shot and needed time to recover; it’s always something, and there will always be something. But she can’t wait forever.

When she’d first considered it, things were not nearly as complicated between them as they are now, and she’s not sure if that makes it better or worse. Is the risk greater, if he says no? Will it hurt more, or less? And what if it works? Before, she could have distanced herself enough to allow him the opportunity to opt out of being involved, but now? It’s hard to imagine such a clear boundary. And yet, she has to ask. There is no alternative, it’s him or no one. She’s known it from the moment she learned the ova existed.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks suddenly, and she realizes she was staring.

She wants to lie and say nothing, but he’s opened the door and she may as well step through.

“I was thinking about the ova you found. My ova,” she says, studying her coffee mug. It’s ceramic, red with a green rim and she suddenly wonders where he got it.

“Oh?” he asks, his interest piqued. “What about them?”

“You know that I had them looked at by another doctor, after you told me about their existence,” she says, and he nods gravely, the guilt apparent in his eyes. “The doctor I saw, Dr. Parenti, said there was a decent chance I could get pregnant. That they might be viable.”

He sets his fork down, regarding her with shock. “When was this?” he asks.

“Shortly after Emily died.”

His eyebrows lift. “And did you...did you try?”

She shakes her head. “Not yet.”

“Why?”

“Well, our lifestyle isn’t exactly conducive to fertility treatment. But also, I would need to find a sperm donor for the other half of the genetic material, and...I guess I’ve been putting that off.” She picks up her fork and pushes the remains of her own pancakes around on her plate.

“Don’t you just look through a folder or something? I guess I don’t know too much about how that works, but I figured you just find a guy who looks like...whatever you want your kid to look like.”

She nods, pulling in a deep breath.

“Yes, that’s what I’d do if I wanted to use an anonymous donor. But I don’t want to use an anonymous donor.”

She can almost feel the moment he makes the connection, when he infers where this is headed. It’s like the air is sucked out of the room, and her heart jumps before it starts racing.

“Oh,” he says flatly, and she can’t bring herself to look at him.

“It’s okay to say no, Mulder. It’s a lot to ask. I just don’t think I could do it if it was anyone else. Anyone but you.”

She steals a glance at him and he’s somewhat shell-shocked, expressionless with his eyes trained on her fork as she moves it around on her plate. She stands and he startles, sitting up ramrod straight and regarding her with a panicked expression.

“Are you leaving?” he asks with a worried tone.

“I need to get home. It’s fine, you can just take some time to think about it if you need to. You don’t need to answer now, or at all. I’m sorry if I’ve put you in an awkward position,” she rambles as she collects her things, realizing too late that she has no shoes to wear and making her way to the door barefoot. She hears the scrape of his chair behind her as he stands, and just as she’s pulling the door open, he puts his hand on her wrist. She looks up at him and he searches her face with his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to...it’s a lot of new information for me. I just need a minute to wrap my head around it,” he says softly. “Are we okay?”

She forces her lips into a smile that she knows won’t reflect in her eyes. “Of course,” she replies, then accepts the two quick kisses he places on her mouth. “Talk to you tomorrow,” she says, then hurries off down the hall.

Standing in the elevator shoeless, in his boxers and T-Shirt with no coat, she is reminded of what her classmates called “the walk of shame,” only she’s not ashamed of having slept with him or stayed the night. She hopes that she won’t ultimately feel shame and embarrassment for having asked him for something greater than he’s willing to give, and putting him in the position of having to say no.

Tagging @today-in-fic

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #x files #x files fanfic #secret marriage #marriage of convenience

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unohanadaydreams · 4 years ago

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Oh, oh! Delirious + Tenjiro fluff with injured/sick reader for the prompt thing? Please and thank you~!

No thoughts, just Tenjiro dropping his tough guy flirting bc he loves reader that much.

Tenjiro Kirinji + Delirious + Fluff

You feel a finger digging into your forehead.

“Sure they weren’t just tryin’ to get rid of you,” the jerk says. “That Quincy shouldn’t of been able to land so many hits if you were, uh...tough as you’re always braggin’ about.”

Everything hurts too much for you to retaliate meaningfully. The finger dips to the side of your mouth and you snap at it, teeth clicking as they miss.

“Hmm. Maybe just too bratty for ‘em down there, then?”

His thighs pressed against your hip and fingers drawing circles at your neck are liberties he shouldn’t be indulging in. You’re glad he is.

His other hand isn’t even wrapping you in soaked bandages like he should be, though. And that’s annoying, considering everything hurts.

“Aren’t you supposed to be healing me, Tenjiro?”

His lips press against your forehead, “aren’t you supposed to be taking care of yourself out there?”

You don’t know what to say, so you turn your head as his fingers leave your neck and watch him resume wrapping your mangled arm.

It’s boring to watch. Your eyes stray to the messy pompadour that stretches past his head, making him look like a fluffy garden hoe. Ha. You’re gonna use that after the hot springs have melted the worst of your injuries away.

Silence compels your eyes shut and each cool strip of cloth wound around your limbs and middle reminds you how exhausted you are.

You only realize you’ve slept when you wake. Your head is resting against damp skin and not a pillow.

The pain killers you’d swallowed before being bandaged had left their delightful souvenirs of a cotton-dry mouth and woozy head.

At least the water feels nice. You flex your arm and don’t grit your teeth.

“Thanks,” you say, putting your hands over the long, wirey arms at your waist.

“Only doing what I’m supposed to.”

His voice is clipped and humorless and you turn with a frown.

“What?”

His arms twist you back, to facing away from him. “Don’t pick fights you can’t finish. When that punk, Retsu, hauled you up here...you’re lucky it hurt, y’know?”

On instinct, you open your mouth, ready to defend your decision. Sometimes you forgot your job wasn’t protecting other shinigami anymore. You could admit you lost sight of that. Even if it was hard to swallow, you did with a nod.

“I won’t, again. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize...I’m sorry I worried you,” you said, squeezing his hand.

“‘Course you worried me,” he sighs, sinking further into the water and dragging you with him. “I ain’t out here seducing every newcomer that pays me a visit. Just your sorry ass.”

The thought of Tenjiro delirious with worry makes your eyes sting. Him liking you hadn’t been a secret for some time. But all the back and forth made it hard to decipher if he really...cared.

Warm from the water and his admission, you rest your head against his arm.

“Thanks, Tenjiro.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

#tenjiro kirinji #Tenjiro Kirinji x reader #bleach imagines #summer ficlet #haha it’s almost summer again so really I’m not WRONG

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himbowelsh · 4 years ago

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hands on the other person’s back, fingertips pressing under their top, drawing gentle circles against that small strip of bare skin that make them break the kiss with a gasp and WEBGOTT!! Can Liebgott be the one gasping please? I've always had this headcanon about him that he's quite touch sensitive if said touch is gentle. Touch his hair (if you dare) and he will melt.

you know how sometimes you start writing something, and it just, uhh... gets away from you?? yeah. yeah. sha-la-la-la my oh my, looks like the boy’s too shy 💋 (accepting!) 5. hands on the other person’s back, fingertips pressing under their top, drawing gentle circles against that small strip of bare skin that make them break the kiss with a gasp

When the heat creeps under Webster’s skin, driving him on and burning him up... christ, those are the moments the balance of control shifts, and the ground beneath Liebgott’s feet feels dangerously off kilter.

He lets his head drop back as the other man sucks at his neck, mouth practically searing his vulnerable skin. It takes all of Joe’s effort not to moan... and even then, he makes a noise through his teeth that gives him away. Shit, did they teach Web to do that in prep school? Is Harvard offering classes on how to drive somebody out of their mind using nothing but tongue? If a thousand sensations weren’t running through his brain at once, shorting out every nerve capable of logical thought, he’d try to put up a fight, to give him hell back... but Webster’s got him pressed up against a wall, hands digging roughly into his shoulders, and it’s all Joe can do to think straight.

“Jesus, Web,” he hisses — maybe a little breathless, but Webster’s got enough to worry about right now. “You tryin’ to take this up as a career or something?”

“You’re such an ass,” Webster snarls against his neck. Joe laughs — loud and sharp, the sound stumbling over itself. Webster’s fingers tighten, and they’ll probably leave bruises tomorrow, but hell if Joe can make himself care.

“Where we headed?” he mutters, hands creeping over Webster’s broad shoulders. He doesn’t pull away, and it’s a thrill to touch him like this — so brazenly, without shame. Touch isn’t something Webster gives freely; he keeps to himself by preference. Joe likes to experiment with other peoples’ boundaries, testing exactly what it’ll take before they snap back; somehow, Webster always manages to take him by surprise. Sometimes he doesn’t want to be touched at all… and sometimes he throws himself forward without a second’s hesitation, inviting Joe to do the same.

Fuck, he makes it look easy.

“Web,” Joe emphasizes again, when the man seems not to hear him. He’s too busy sucking bruises into Joe’s collar — which he doesn’t mind, hell no, but he’d like some damn acknowledgement. “Where? You want us to strip up against this wall —“

“No. No.” Webster pulls back, breathing heavily. His lips are flushed, a string of saliva still connecting them to Joe’s collar. Everywhere he kissed feels like it’s on fire. His pupils are blown, baby blue almost swallowed up by heat and lust — goddamn, if that isn’t a sight a poet like Web would want to write about. “We could, umm — we could — barracks —“

“Right, with the twelve other guys we share with. Better let ‘em make popcorn before we start, huh?”

“I don’t know, Joe, damn it —“

Joe seizes Webster by the collar of his shirt, tugging him forward. Webster is too startled to protest — when Joe tows him out of the hallway and around the corner, slipping into a nearby storage closet, he can do nothing but follow.

There’s a broken broom in the corner, and a few mops leaning against the wall… but they’ve got privacy, if you don’t mind a spider audience. “Ain’t the classiest place, but it’ll do.”

“Glad to know you’re a cheap date,” Webster observes, his hands already tugging at Joe’s hips. Joe rolls into him, laughing when Webster groans.

“Think again,” he mutters, hand knotting in dark curls. When Webster smiles, he feels the last of his self-control give way.

For a little while, that’s all they do — bouncing off each other in those claustrophobic four walls, sucking bruises into each other’s skin and muffling groans and curses into flushed skin. It’s rough, and hot, and exactly the release Joe didn’t know he needed.

Nothing about it is gentle. Nothing is serious. Whatever the mood is, it sure isn’t… intimate. Not really.

Which is why he’s not expecting it when Webster touches him.

Really touches him. It’s Joe’s fault, for losing track of Webster’s hands a while back… but he was so busy trailing kisses along his collar, and Webster’s hands move so much that there’s almost no point wondering where they’ll go next. Joe’s been at it for a while, long enough that Webster has gone still against the wall, like he’s caught in a trance. His eyes are shut, breathing heavy… and Joe’s so focused on drawing his ecstasy out that when Webster’s hands slip underneath his shirt, he doesn’t see it coming.

The effect’s immediate. Joe breaks the kiss with a shallow gasp, leaving a red mark against Webster’s jaw. For a second, it seems like he doesn’t notice — he’s still lost in space somewhere, even while his fingers trail gently along Joe’s spine.

Skin-to-skin contact, in an area he's never been touched before… and there’s nothing rough about it. Nothing hungry. Nothing demanding. Webster’s just… Jesus, what’s he doing?

“Joe,” Webster says softly — noticing for the first time how shell-shocked his partner looks. “What’s wrong?”

“You — I —“ Webster's still touching him, and Joe can’t find the words. Another sigh leaves him, heavy and uneasy. When he tries to draw in a breath, it shudders. “Take it easy, Web.”

“I am.” Webster’s voice is as soft as his touch. He looks absolutely fucking debauched, hair a mess and lips flushed almost purple, but he wears it too well. A bit of the lust has faded from his eyes; Joe can find the blue again, and he’s looking straight through him.

��You don’t need to —“ Christ, he thought he knew what this was. Why’s he reacting like this? “You,” he says again, and unconsciously leans into the touch. Webster seems to get it, all at once. His palm goes flat against Joe’s back, and traces a broad circle along his spine. Joe can’t help shuddering.

“Do you like that?” Webster asks, a smirk playing at his lips.

“What d’you mean?”

“Do you like…” Now it’s both of Webster’s hands, fingers splayed out. They’re tracing tiny circles into the area above Joe’s sharp hipbones. He’s draining the stress out of Joe’s body through touch alone, and it scares him how easily he gives into it.

“Joe,” Webster says, so gently that Joe’s eyes flutter. When he forces them back open, it’s to Webster staring at him intently, and a sudden hand cupping the side of his face. Again, he’s gentle, so goddamn gentle.

“I’m here,” says Webster, and his fingers run through Joe’s hair. This time, when Webster kisses him, he melts.

To think, he thought he knew what was going on here. Thought he had it under control. Thought when all was said and done, they could walk outta here like nothing happened.

Shows what he knows, doesn’t it?

#i reiterate: i don't write smut #but it's nice to know i COULD if i wanted to #webgott #david webster #joseph liebgott #my writing #Anonymous

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thiswasinevitableid · 5 years ago

Note

Could you do #28 indruck? Or maybe OT4?

#28 was: Mermified. I went with Indruck. Hope you like it!

The rocks on the window start the night he moves in.

He writes it off as an anomaly, or perhaps kids from the town deciding to toy with the new resident.

After three nights in a row, he’s beginning to understand why this house was such a bargain. Yes, it’s a lovely houseboat for one on the Pacific coast, offset from much of the neighborhood for privacy. But every night, small rocks and shells will hit your window, disrupting your already tenuous sleep schedule.

It can’t be a human, because his bedroom faces the ocean, and he’d hear or see a boat or paddleboard or whatever else they used to get there. For awhile he assumes it might be a ghost; his last apartment was actually haunted by a miner who died from the Spanish Flu. They got along rather well, as he didn’t manifest often and Indrid was always careful to leave him offerings or tokens of respect on days like his deathaversary.

But after scoping the house top to bottom, using a Oujia Board, and just politely asking if there was anyone there who needed to talk to him, he’s disregarded that possibility.

And tonight, he’s made the mistake of sleeping with the window open, meaning the chunk of bull kelp hit’s him square in the face.

“Oh for goodness sake.” He sits up, sticking his head out the window to glare at the waves.

The waves glare back. Or, more accurately, a face sticking out of the waves does.

“Do you mind?”

“Yeah, I mind a whole fuckin’ lot.” The man swims right to the side of the house, locomotion too smooth for there to be legs beneath the water, “I mind because this whole area is under my protection, and this big fuckin house is gonna fuck up this cove.”

He knew there were merpeople along this coast, he just wasn’t expecting to see one up close. Or for it to be so grumpy.

“I’ll have you know I asked for multiple modifications to this house before I moved in. It is designed to have almost zero impact on the marine environment.”

“Uh huh, sure.” The merman crosses his arms, “you ain’t just sayin’ that to get rid of me.” A flash of yellow light under the water.

“Well, technically, I am. I would prefer to not have you hurling things at my window every night because you think my leaving is the only way for your patch of ocean to be safe. A strategy, I take it, that worked on my predecessors.”

“Yep. Most left after a couple of days.”

“Most probably had more places they could go. I do not.”

“Ain’t my problem. Never shoulda let them start buildin’ here in the first place; wrecks havoc on the forest.” He glances towards open water, tips of giant kelp just visible in the moonlight. He sounds tired.

“How about this: you keep an eye on this cove, and if you notice any issues directly caused by my home, I will leave. But if not, you stop throwing things at my window.”

“Fine.” The merman turns, makes to dive under the water, then spins around, “but if I catch you tryin’ anythin’ funny, next time I’m throwin’ a shark through the window.”

The next night brings welcome silence at his window. The day after, however….

“What are you doin’ here, anyway?”

“Good afternoon to you as well.” Indrid doesn’t look up from his drawing; a benefit of being born with odd, future seeing abilities is that he isn’t startled by the merman’s appearance (said abilities don’t function well when he’s sleep deprived, which is why he didn’t see the merman’s initial appearance coming).

“I mean, y’all can build houses wherever you want up on land. Why live on the water?”

“Because I find it peaceful. I have limited luck living in cities, and have grown used to isolation.”

“Don’t humans have to have jobs? You ain’t left here except once to get food.”

“Spying is impolite.”

“So is livin’ on someone else's turf without askin!” The merman raises out of the water, and Indrid finally gets a good look at him. He has dark hair, mismatched eyes and, just visible, a row of fins like those of a leafy sea dragon dotting his lower back. Ironically, his build is one Indrid finds attractive, a mix of muscle and fat that undoubtedly would feel nice to hold. Were it not for the complication of the tail.

“I am an artist. I draw for a living, hence my ability to live out here. And nobody told me there was a merman living around here, so I did not have the option of speaking to you ahead of time.”

There’s a huff of annoyance, and he barely moves his drawing out of the way of the splash as the merman disappears.

Three days later, he’s once again sitting on the back deck when he hears, “You ain’t seen an injured seal around, have you?”

“No.” He looks up, finds the merman looking thoughtful as he scans the waves and shoreline, “ah, what does it look like? What color is it?”

“Smallish, speckled grey. Got caught in a net and all torn up gettin loose, but I can’t find it.”

“I will keep an eye out. Should I signal you if I see it?”

“Hmmm….yeah, that should work. Maybe hang somethin’ bright' on that line?” He points to the clothes line.

Indrid closes his eyes, focuses on the futures.

The merman sniffs, intrigued, “somethin smells good.”

“It’s my lunch. It ended up not quite being what I wanted, you are welcome to try some.”

The merman grabs the take-out bowl of soup, sipping from it gingerly. His face lights up, and then he gulps the remainder down.

“Damn, that was good.”

“It’s french onion soup. I can bring you more in the future if you’d like. Also, odds are good you’ll find the seal you seek on the beach about a mile that way.”

The merman blinks, “Shit, really? Thanks man.”

“You are welcome.”

The merman hesitates, a flash of white, barely visible in the daylight, zips under water, “Uh, name’s Duck by the way.”

Indrid smiles, “Indrid. Good luck with your search, Duck.”

Duck smiles, bright and friendly as the beach on a hot day, “Thanks.”

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

Indrid awakens with a cry of alarm. It’s only a nightmare, not even a bad vision, and yet he’s so rattled sleep becomes an unreachable goal. Hoping the night air and lapping waves might help, he drags a blanket onto the back deck, laying down with his back to the water. The nightmare pursues him still, setting off a dozen related memories and fears in his mind until he’s shuddering, trying not to cry.

A cool hand touches his hair and he freezes for a moment before another gasp pushes from his chest, the images flooding his system too much to ignore. The hand continues down his back a ways, then starts at his head once again.

“Why?” He says, not even sure who he’s asking it of.

“Helps the seal and otter pups when they get upset. Thought it might help you too.” Duck replies, “I was doin’ a night round and heard you yell. Came to make sure you were okay.”

He wants to say thank you, but the words are weighed down by the realization of how long it’s been since anyone did such a thing.

“You...pet the pups? Doesn’t, doesn’t that make it difficult if they are eaten by something?”

“A little. Sharks got as much right to live as they do, but still, sometimes they need comfortin if their parents are out huntin. Not my job to protect ‘em from predators. I’m just the keeper of the forest. Means I look out for the animals, the plants. Nature does most of the work for me; lot of my job boils down to makin sure humans don’t fuck everything up.”

“It is a habit we seem to have.”

A pause, Duck’s fingers playing gently with his hair, “Not all of you.”

Indrid rolls over and Duck rests his arms on the deck, soft blue flashes coming off his tail.

“Will you tell me more about what you do?”

“Sure.”

Duck talks and Indrid listens until finally his eyes droop closed. He wakes up hours later, a bit chilly but with the blanket drawn around him. He wonders how he avoided falling into the water in his sleep. Until there’s a soft splash as his nighttime gaurdian slips back into the waves.

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

“Ta dah! No, wait, stay over here. That’s a good boy.” Duck proudly circles the large ray he’s herded near Indrid’s boat as Indrid sits down to draw. Over the last few weeks, he’s brought the human more and more items to include in his illustrations, after Indrid mentioned he was working on a pictures for a book about marine life.

It started with brightly colored shells or seaglass left on his deck, then Duck would ask for mason jars or bowls to help place a fish safely where Indrid could sketch it. Lately, he’s taken to shepherding larger sea life where Indrid can see it; seals, otters, rays, even a shark. It’s almost as if he’s showing off, and Indrid notices that his tail flickers bright green whenever Indrid flaps his hands with excitement or thanks him for his help.

Duck visits him every day, even on days when there is no drawing to be done. They talk, or eat together, and Indrid has even hung a hammock out so they can talk well into the night without him accidentally rolling off the deck or Duck having to watch over him until he wakes. Duck can only be out of the water a short time, but he’ll join Indrid on the deck to sun himself, tail bright green and leafy at the “V” that marks the tip of it. When Indrid asks about the lights, Duck explains that they’re tied to his emotions, something to help merpeople signal to each other even in the darkness or murkiness of the ocean.

Indrid buys a kayak, paddles out into open ocean with Duck as his guide, the merman eagerly showing him his favorite places, introducing him to wildlife, and generally mooning over him whenever he thinks Indrid isn’t looking.

The mooning is mutual, of course. Duck is funny and kind, easy going now that he knows Indrid is not a threat to his beloved kelp forest. He’s also painfully handsome in Indrid’s eyes, but the futures show scant chances for Indrid to admit this fact without torpedoing the relationship.

Their laying side by side on the deck tonight, dusk creeping across the sky. In the fading light, he notices Duck’s fins flashing between white and green.

“Are you alright, Duck? You’ve been rather quiet tonight.”

“Uh, um, yeah? Fuck. Uh, you remember me tellin’ you about my friend Aubrey?”

“The one dating the human surfer girl?”

“Yep. They, uh, Aubrey said they finally worked up to kissin. I never heard of mer kissin’ a human and likin’ it before, usually we do it on dares when we’re young and foolish.”

“You seem to be going somewhere with this.” Indrid rolls over, smirking at the future he sees.

“No, uh, fuch, uh, I mean, would, would you ever wanna try it?”

“With any merperson, or just you?”

“Me.” Duck says softly.

Indrid leans in, cups the back of his head to draw him into a kiss, salt and sun mingling on his lips as Duck moans. Sun-warmed skin caresses his back as Duck pulls him closer, and a cool, smooth tail hooks over his ankles.

“Indrid, I, I really, really like you.” Duck whispers, kissing a line along his cheek.

“I really, really like you as well, Duck.” Indrid runs a hand along his side, watches his tail light up bright blue at the touch.

“Can, can we try bein’ together? Like Dani and Aubrey are?”

“Of course.” Indrid grins, then gives a muffled laugh as Duck kisses him once more, rolling atop him, wiggling happily as the kiss deepens, Indrid teasing his fingers along his fins to make him whine.

Then the mer gasps, dropping into the water and coming back up panting.

“Shit, that was close.”

“You were out too long?” Indrid shifts to his stomach

“Yep. Can’t blame me for gettin’ distracted, and honestly I’d fuckin pass out if that’s what it took to kiss you again.”

Indrid bends down, kissing him softly, “no need for such drastic measures yet. But I agree it would be nice to have, ah, dalliances that can last a bit longer. I’m sure we can think of something.”

They try filling the bathtub with seawater, but can’t get Duck to it. Indrid opts to swim, but he’s not a strong swimmer, and any beaches where they could be half in and half out of the water are either too well-traveled or made out of sharp rocks that hurt them both.

They have some success when Indrid lays on his side, facing the water, to touch himself, moaning Ducks name and telling him just what he’ll do to him once he’s able as Duck frantically kisses him, tail flashing blue and purple.

But after night after night of longing looks, too-short embraces, and kisses at odd angles, he decides enough is enough.

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

“Why have you come, young man?”

“I wish to make a deal. There’s something I need you to enchant.”

The man grins, cat-like and hungry, “Very well. But it is going to cost you.”

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

Duck circles the patch of kelp he’s checking for the tenth time. He can’t focus, should just go home and rest, but he needs to keep occupied so he stops worrying about the note he found on the deck two days ago.

Duck,

Have a problem that needs solving. May be gone several days. Don’t worry, it will be alright.

Love, Indrid.

In spite of the reassurance in the letter, he’s terrified that Indrid might be hurt. Might have left him entirely.

An unfamiliar shape flits in the corner of his vision, and he turns.

“Holy fuck.”

“Good afternoon to you too.” Indrid grins, swimming to him a bit gracelessly with mottled black and red tail. The red and black fan of fin on his lower back flashes bright green for a moment.

“Indrid.” Duck says with awe, not quite believing his eyes even as his tail curls around Indrid’s own.

“Indeed. I, ah, found someone who would help me. Help us.”

“Are you, uh, stuck like this?”

He shakes his head, “No, I have a charm” he holds up his wrist to reveal a small cord, “I can go back to being human as needed. But I, ah, I can no longer see the future. I...that was the trade for this.”

“You gave that up just for me?” Duck cups his cheeks, brushes their noses together.

Indrid grins, “Yes. After all, whatever the futures may hold, whatever I can no longer see coming, does not matter half as much as the future I’m holding right now.”

#indruck #mermay fills #mermaid au #indrid cold/duck newton #duck x indrid

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mrsunderhill678 · 4 years ago

Text

I am a writing goddes, bow before my throne of prose and murder.

"I choose death before dishonor, and courage before cowardice, if I am to die on my knees, my teeth will be bared and bloody, laughing at the world for such an attempt at my life.” - Avarell Boneson

“Perhaps I am a wolf, but that does not make me bad in nature, cruel at heart. It means I am willing to fight with my teeth bared and my claws covered in the crimson regret of bad men who fucked with the wrong bitch.” - Avarell Boneson

“I have so much to lose, and so I fight. I bleed. I carry on.” - Avarell Boneson

“I am cold steel and wildfire smoke, I am justice and red hot rage, I am the end of those who wrong me. Stand before me, pray, sell me an empty promise, I assure you, no lie, no man, no beast, can stand in my way.” - Avarell Boneson

“I am a culmination of every girl I ever was, from the little girl scared of the shadows to the woman who now stalks them.” - Avarell Boneson

“Blood for blood spilled is a simple rule, thus is karma's reign.” - Avarell Boneson

“Say a prayer for a damned man and you'll realize you are one.” - Jeremiah Smithen

“I'm in need of a hangin', but they'll need a thick rope to hang the man of a thousand heavy lies.” - Jeremiah Smithens

“I spose I was born for the gallows, might my shadow cheer as I swing? Bring me ta my knees, let me look 'pon the crowd 'a those I love so they know I'm payin' for my mistakes, and rightfully so. I'm tryin' ta be a better man, but the shadow of this hangman's noose lies cold on my soul, and it's a shiver a damned man can't shake.” - Jeremiah Smithens

“I can't take these names off these graves, cuz I was the one that carved em. I'm the one that hung them good men from them trees. They lie three feet off the ground, gaspin' for air that just don't come. Are these men I killed reflections 'a my future?” - Jeremiah Smithens

“Spose my brother made a deal with the devil, 'spose he sold my soul to compensate for the soul he din'it have.” - Jeremiah Smithens

“A century long blood debt lies heavy on my shoulders.” - Valentina Von Shepards

“His blood runs through mine, so I spose either way you put it, his blood spills.” - Valentina Von Shepards

“All I've got is the heart in my chest, but I've learned my heart is a never ending void of condemnable sorrow. This sorrow I feel is what'll kill me, in the end. Cause it's this sorrow that drives my vengeance.” - Valentina Von Shepards

“Either he will bleed for all he's done, or I'll bleed for all he's done.” - Valentina Von Shepards

“I walk in the shadow of kings and queens lost ta time. I am every man he ever killed, every women he broke, and every drop of blood he spilled. I 'spose I'm vengeance, and if it kills me, so be it. I ain't much livin', anyhow. Cause livin' for death ain't no life at all.” - Valentina Von Shepards

“I look to my future and whisper, "Spare me." I crawl on my knees, begging for this future of mine to show mercy, but all it ever says is, "You're only human, so die like one." But living was never about death, even if death is an important place to visit while still breathing. Life is about so much more than the end of it, I've learned. It's about love, the sacrifices you're willing to make, and your care for the people who've built you up over the years.” - Albert Spurs

“I've seen power corrupt men and drag them screaming down a twisting path of bones they've yet to break. Power brings the out the worst in the best of men, it corrupts the good and creates evil. All power ever stole is humanity from the most human of men.” - Albert Spurs

“Time doesn't care about us, and I suppose I shouldn't care much for time.” - Albert Spurs

“We’re the smoke rising from the world’s fucking pyre. Up and up we go, burnin' through the atmosphere, challengin' the sun with our heat.” - Craigsley Thorn

“I stand in a world where the devil's below me and God's above me, either side challengin' me ta be better or worse.” - Craigsley Thorn

“I's seen blood debts play out in gunpowder regrets and charms, I's seen war's that left men broken or dead, but no one ever walked out the same. After all, war breaks men in ways humans never could, it ain't the man that gets ta ya, it ain't the gunfire neither, it's your own damn hands that break ya in the end.” - Craigsley Thorn

“Long 'go I said I'd be the very best, I'd be the most fearsome mother fuckah America'd ever laid eyes 'pon, but that old, beaten country stood me down in a draw fight and I got damn lost. I lie here with a bullet in my head, hangin' from my family tree, 'spose in the end I'm swingin' from the same rope as my father. Funny, how the corpse don't fall too far from the tree, huh?” - Craigsley Thorn

“I was the quickest draw, toughest mother fuckah this side 'a the West, but 'spose my regret draws quicker. He fills me with six round slings 'a lead, and reloads quicker than I can recover.” - Craigsley Thorn

“Came ta America for a new life, but I 'spose when ya step foot in damned land ya become a damned man.” - Craigsley Thorn

“I am no god, though I am cruel as he.” - Cornelius Whitiker

“I suppose to a poor man, riches are poison they wish to choke on, I've learned there is a difference between a poor man's poison, and rich man's poison. I've choked on both and gotten used to these dualities.” - Cornelius Whitiker

“You forgot to wash yourself in the blood of the lamb, my friend, and now, I am washed in the blood of you.” - Cornelius Whitiker

“A man once asked me if I was God, and all I could really say is "Not quite yet, though if you mean God by the end of you, then yes, my friend, I am your extinction." - Cornelius Whitiker

“I have lived through every stage of life, I have been poor, homeless and broken, begging for release. I have been rich and mighty, helping those who had been like me, and now, I have succumbed to power, this rich man's poison tastes sweet on my lip. Like blood of a lamb on a wolf's maw it drips from my chin, a warning of more dangerous things to come, I suppose.” - Cornelius Whitiker

“I wear this halo as if it meant a thing, all this halo is to the holy men who witness me is false hope, false salvation. Even angels sing along to my crimson song, this battered melody of blood set remedies.” - Cornelius Whitiker

“I am crazy they say, but if they knew that I am just like them, they would run for their lives.” - Rolf Lambs

“Easy now, the dog who barks often gets bit.” - Rolf Lambs

“I am mad, they say, barking away my life, chasing cars and headlights with no real meaning. But can't they see, my purpose is their end? My purpose is the madness you say has no reason. But I, am the rhythm, my friend, I am the melody of barks and bites, howls and the spilling of blood that follows the wooping war cries.” - Rolf Lambs

“My heart still beats and thus yours shall not.” - Rolf Lambs

“Look at this hall of hollow souls, look at us, slaves to reason. Slaves to desperation and methods to madness.” - Rolf Lambs

“What can a wild dog do when faced with heaven? Do we bark at God as he barked his commandments?” - Rolf Lambs

“They tell me I have paid the devil's price, that I shook his hand. But don't you see? He shook mine, he shook mine.” - Rolf Lambs

“I am a wild dog of these wastelands, ragged fur and bloodied teeth, broken claws and angry eyes that tell you my bite is worse than my bark, and my tongue is worse than my teeth, for it's the words that fall from it, that kill you whilst still breathing. See? I am just, like, you, so shalt you run from yourself?” - Rolf Lambs

“This show has just begun, and I refuse to draw the curtains until they who have wronged me are strung up by their necks and swing as the curtains finally close.” - Bellatrix Hungarson

“I'm a wayfaring stranger on this road of vengeance, it's always raining here, and I can hear the whispers of the damned in the downpour. Alas, I can hear my own voice, but I've miles to go before I get what I fucking deserve.” - Bellatrix Hungarson

“Perhaps I'm a bad woman, perhaps I'm cruel, but only to those who damn well deserve it. I'd never fire my gun on they who never pulled the trigger, but I'd pull it on they who fired the bullet first.” - Bellatrix Hungarson

“You can damn me, but I've already been to hell, I met evil in the form of a suit and tie, lies behind a pearly white smile. The devil never had a pitchfork, he never had wings, he looked just fucking like us. He wore the faces of those we loved, pulled their skin over his and wore who they used to be like a taut mask, but it never seemed right. Stitches pulled at their smiles, scars and blood stained them. We've all been caught by the devil once or twice, for he starts by digging his claws into our hearts, and convincing us our hearts had always been bleeding.” - Bellatrix Hungarson

“I'm not okay, lost in the tide of vengeance, but at least I have Amaryliss. Her hands are as bloody as mine, her heart as broken as mine, but at least I'm her's and she's mine.” - Bellatrix Hungarson

“If only the specters could warn you of me, and yet, their cries remain silent. Howls into the abyss, never to be heard. Dead warnings lead to dead men, but who said the dead cannot live again?” - Atiogrim Crow

“Behold my dynasty of the dead, my kingdom of skeletons and ghouls, beasts that were once men. But I suppose when your heart stops beating, you become cold and heartless. And once you are heartless, you must find something to replace the soul you lost. Be it rage or anger, mercy or brutality, no heartless beast ever lived without a substitute.” - Atiogrim Crow

“I have shook hands with my darker side, and in turn, Arasill wrapped me in his cloak of shadows, he showed me that the stars blink out, and if you wish upon them, all you'll ever receive is a wolf's howl.” - Atiogrim Crow

“I suppose I am broken, but in a beautiful way. Dark in a way that isn't quite holy, but isn't perfectly sinful.” - Atiogrim Crow

“I down my pain as if it was the finest red wine, I can't separate the pleasure from the pain no more, or maybe I've just gone numb.” - Julia Vanderwitch

“I try to be someone more than this broken girl, but the shadows have surrounded me, and claimed me their ruler. I never intended to spill blood, I never intended to be sinful and wicked, but here I am, downing my own pain as if it was red wine, and spilling other's pain from the glass.” - Julia Vanderwitch

“The devil is not beneath us, nor is God above us, he stands right in front of me, with his empty eyes and smile, his baseball cap and smoke floating around him like willow wisps in the fog. But these wisps never brought me an adventure, they were never there to show me my purpose. All they did was lead me to the deep end, drowning me in this red wine of pain I drink.” - Julia Vanderwitch

“I am the blood-stained beast in Eden, yet the angel of flaming blade does not pay attention to my cries. He does not heed my mournful howls.” - Julia Vanderwitch

“I drag my feet 'cross holy ground, scaldin' my soles, yet all I do is trudge on. I'd say I'm a soldier, but this holy ground burns my feet. I hold this rifle in my hands like a cross, I call it my saving grace, but these days, faith won't save a damned man.” - Dolfin Holts

“I've fought for honor, for blood, for faith and men I cannot name. So why can't I fight for myself?” - Dolfin Holts

“I have saved lives by endin' others, tell me how that's fair. We're broken beasts, bending the fucking crop and watching the sheep scatter as we bare our teeth. But all we ever did was try to save them.” - Dolfin Holts

“Oh lord, let me find myself a river so I can wash these sins clean, but I am haunted by the ghost of my brother. His smile looms over mine, whispering again and again, "You did not save me." And it's true. All I could do was flee, and listen to his howls. Look at all this death I've caused. My brother rots, still walking this Earth, but nothing more than a waxy white beast, clawing at the living, envious of the fact that they may end their hunger. I look into the eyes of every dead man that ever lived, and I see his eyes. His brown eyes, full of love for his family, full of rage and joy, passion and addiction. I'd never seen brown eyes so beautiful. Until I held my baby brother in my arms. And those are the same eyes that looked at me with rage as I gripped my rifle, and fled as the dead swarmed the livin.” - Dolfin Holts

“Fear handed me a gun and said, "Soldier, keep marchin," and that's just what I did.” - Dolfin Holts

“I am no soldier, because this holy ground burns my feet, and these graves break my damn heart.” - Dolfin Holts

“It's strange, how the burden of being a good man lies on my shoulders. I've gunned men down in foreign countries with hardly the blink of my eyes. They had names, families, and yet, they say I'm a good man for putting them down.” - Kerry Hopwood

“I've learned that soldiers fight for what they see as right, and usually, it ain't what the world sees as right. We've all got our own definition of peace, of salvation. But most men just don't wanna be saved. They believe the sun will come before the rain, but any flower that grows comes after the rain.” - Kerry Hopwood

“We are gunfire and bravery, cowardice and courage, the fleeing mouse and the roaring lion. Because we can't be one thing, without experiencing the other.” - Kerry Hopwood

“We've got our chins held high and our guns held strong, so what do you do when faced with a good man? Do you join him in this war for peace? Or do you become the man that stands in his way? You may die either way, but it's better to die for a good cause, than to die because you opposed one.” - Kerry Hopwood

“I shook hands with a devil, and with my heart still beating he dragged it to Georgia and traded it for a golden fiddle.” - Bediah Boe

“I'm a circus act, lifting these weights no man can bare, that no man should, bare. Yet here I am, my strength turned to weakness. I am broken, battered, bloodied, laughing my way through the sorrow.” - Bediah Boe

“Look at this showman's smile, look at the blood on the clown's teeth. I am such a tragic creature. I've traded blows with the devil, and if this rage is the death of me, let it too be the death of him.” - Bediah Boe

“He says we are jesters and vagabonds, outcasts and broken souls. But ain't he the one that made us such? Behold, Borbasli's Siren Cove, the howls ain't the waves my friend, though he'll sell em as such. The wind whips at our backs and leaves us bloody, we all knew where the siren's song went. Yet still we followed. She brang us down ta her level below the sea floor, drownin' us while holdin' our cold hands.” - Bediah Boe

“I spose when faced with love in a world 'a hate, you stumble toward it despite the danger. Ain't no warnin' signs that could keep ya from the danger.” - Bediah Boe

“Redemption is for men with sorrowful tales ta tell, men with methods ta their madness. But here I am, with my Jack Daniels and moonshine, with a sorrowful tale ta tell, but no method ta my madness. For I am not it's orchestrator. He hides behind pearly smiles and beautiful lies, enchantin' he was, ugly in the heart, but just as a siren, beautiful in the voice.” - Bediah Boe

“If you saw the world through my eyes you would fear me.” - Odeyis Bravacallo

“I've learned that the good man will always become enslaved by the bad one. You see, good men don't understand what it takes, to be... Good. Or to do good, rather. They spare the cruel and let the good die all for the sake of a bad man's life.” - Odeyis Bravacallo

“Revolution is a slow game of chess, full of Queen Gambit's and false Stalemates. I will sacrifice my pawns and watch as the brooks and knights swarm your castle, all because the king stood on the front lines!” - Odeyis Bravacallo

“Change is a funny thing, it can be quick, or slow, but it never really feels like anything changes, does it? Only when you look back do you realize nothing's the same.” - Odeyis Bravacallo

“We are ensnared by reason and purpose, guises of self and individualism, but in reality, we're no one! We're minds and souls, but not much else. I don't choose to define myself. One minute I could be the mad hatter, the next, I could be Alice, or the rabbit leading the way, warning you of the time passing by. But time dies slow, doesn't it?” - Odeyis Bravacallo

“Every Robin Hood who dared nock an arrow was killed before it ever flew through the air. All it takes for a revolution is a single arrow, so I wouldn't blame a mad king for banning use of the bow.” - Odeyis Bravacallo

“My life is reflected in the barrel of a gun, I suppose all it's ever been is an instrument of death.” - Hellen Crimsonburn

“Sticks and stones have broken my bones, words have left me bleeding, but I will build an empire from this pain, this grief, this bleeding heart. Not every kingdom is built through fear, I will rule through mercy and last longer than violence could ever hope to.” - Hellen Crimsonburn

“Keep your enemies close, and keep your allies in the dark, so that when the shadows come, they can become the light the kills the dark.” - Hellen Crimsonburn

“Some days I'm a bad woman of sticks and stones, and words that kill. But most days, I'm just scared, turning my fear into courage.” - Hellen Crimsonburn

“I have seen my life reflected in the barrel of my own gun, but I refuse to be an instrument of death for higher powers.” - Hellen Crimsonburn

“It ain't the greater good for all if a man has to die. What happened to his, greater good?” - Axel Whithers

“In this day and age, we sacrifice more than we give, and we kill more than we live.” - Axel Whithers

“We're out here, payin' the price for what we done, sadly, in this kill or be killed world, death is a collective punishment for the human race.” - Axel Whithers

“I suppose to a soldier, loyalty means sumthin' different. It means ya don't leave no one behind, even when a fellow soldier dies, we carry him in the arms 'a our memories.” - Axel Whithers

“We're soldiers, loyal ta a code 'a honor most men don't follow. Honor ain't found in the scourge, it ain't found in the dirt, or the mud. Honor is found in the men that faced the world and din'it let it change em.” - Axel Whithers

“I have seen how war kills men. All it has to do is give em a gun and enemies on the front line, firin' back.” - Axel Whithers

“This gun in my hand I once would'a called the devil, is my only savin' grace these days. It is an instrument 'a death as it is an instrument 's life, and I 'spose I too, represent this damned soldier's duality.” - Axel Whithers

“It's foolish, ta push against an immovable object, when you ain't an indestructible force.” - Milos Fellwitz

“No dead man ever came back for more, all 'cept for Gustave. He plays a dangerous game of three steps forward, five steps back, don't he know the more steps he takes back, the more likely it is he'll fall into his own fucking grave? Or worse, back pedal into those he loves, shovin' them inta their grave.” - Milos Fellwitz

“Hammer's up bitch, this town is damned because a damned man has stepped through it's got damn gates.” - Milos Fellwitz

“Stare me down, raise your fists and charge, but just know, every good men that ever lived, died. But look at the conquerors of history. Gengis Kahn, raiders of seas and England. It's the bad men who live on.” - Milos Fellwitz

“I'm rotten to the fucking core, my blood-stained grin is a threat, a promise and a warnin' ta all who stand in my way. So COME ON, send an army my way, I'll stand, fists raised, threatful grin flashed, ain't no one gon' live ta tell the tale 'a the immovable, indestructible force.” - Milos Fellwitz

“I am Milos, motherfucking, Fellwitz, the cruelty of history trembles as I grin, the brutality of this world quivers.” - Milos Fellwitz

“I'm the result of a merciless world, and you'll be the result of a merciless man.” - Milos Fellwitz

“Morality, it don't get ya nowhere, if it's death you're wishin' for, grab your morals and stick ta em.” - Kai Fell

“I trust my gut, and when that fucker tells me ta pull the trigger, I damn well listen.” - Kai Fell

“We're all cheats, liars and thieves, throwin' our morals away the moment we realize we're God damn mortal.” - Kai Fell

“I've learned that ta survive, I've ought ta trust my revolver sooner than a stranger.” - Kai Fell

“Somedays I'm a saint, other days I'm a sinner, but I'm a crook even with the most charmin' 'a smiles. Good men would swing me from the gallows if they realized I was a bad one. But it's easy to lure men into false senses of security.” - Kai Fell

“I've learned that ta survive, ya can't be good, cause the world ain't gon' be good ta you.” - Kai Fell

“Call me ill, call me sick, but there ain't no cure ta a loss 'a morals.” - Kai Fell

“I ain't nuthin' but a specter 'a flickerin' morals.” - Kai Fell

“I am who I need to be, and I've learned, who I am changes with the tickin' 'a the clock.” - Kai Fell

“I walk within the valley of death, the shadow overbearing, the only light to be found the flickering of my cigarette.” - Banks Cutthroat

“I'm a bad man, committing bad deeds under the false guise of world peace. But we can't attain peace through violence.” - Banks Cutthroat

“One warlord rises and a revolution charges, cut the head from the snake and you become the damn serpent.” - Banks Cutthroat

“The sun sits pretty on the sky, the birds sing, the light shines upon me, yet still, in all this beauty I am ugly.” - Banks Cutthroat

“In this world, damnation is the only salvation we deserve.” - Banks Cutthroat

“The Earth is no longer home, for Mother Nature weeps and weeps, leaving us in a shallow river of her tears. Blood red they are, I wonder if she mocks us for the blood we've spilled. Or does she grieve as any mother would?” - Banks Cutthroat

“All this violence is ugly, and man has no right to make it beautiful.” - Banks Cutthroat

“When heaven bares it's teeth, you learn to raise a lil' hell.” - Edmund Goodbread

“In heaven I met a damned man, with his empty eyes and scarred smile, some days I got'sa wonder, was 'e God or just a very crooked angel?” - Edmund Goodbread

“Livin' scares me, dyin' terrifies me, but there ain't never been no in-between. I have to live in a constant state 'a fear. Fear for existence, and horror for the end 'a it.” - Edmund Goodbread

“The boy I was is cinders, cause this vengeance is a reflection 'a the man who made it. I'm a lowlife tryin' ta get my head right, but I'm spinnin' in every which direction, shootin' point blank at every blurred shape.” - Edmund Goodbread

“I am parched, drinking from pools of my own blood. Alas, it brings me no satisfaction, but I am doomed to drink from a well that shall only ever bring me thirst.” - Murphy Joy

“The days get harder as time moves on, I suppose time knows how to move on better than I ever did. But how am I to move on from what I do not know?” - Murphy Joy

“I am in an eternal purgatory, fog wisps around me, concealing the beasts within the shadows and mist.” - Murphy Joy

“Look at me, all this stardust in my eyes, these long imploded pieces of the nebula.” - Murphy Joy

“These tears are not for what I have, or what I lost, but for what I had.” - Murphy Joy

“I am Murphy Joy, I tell myself over and over, but it sparks nothing in me. Murphy Joy, Murphy Joy, Murphy Joy, is that me or a man I stole?” - Murphy Joy

“I feel as if being me is a distant goal I can't reach. I strive to be myself, but whiskey regrets find me first.” - Bryan Jensen

“My past keeps me fractured, like barbed wire under my shirt it rips into me as I move, as I breathe, as I sit. I have held it for so long that it became a part of me, and now, I fear all I can ever do is bleed.” - Bryan Jensen

“My memory is a slate of broken emotions and raging fires, leaving me stranded and cold, yet surrounded by flame.” - Bryan Jensen

“I cannot accept peace when my whole life has been devoid of it. With all this pain, I fear peace. For in the quiet moments of the night my grief screams the loudest.” - Bryan Jensen

“These lullabies my scars sing are damning, wretched and ugly, they tell me, "Forget how to feel, Bryan, forget that you're real," and I do.” - Bryan Jensen

“I watch the world pass me by with a blank gaze, as if I am in a deadly haze.” - Bryan Jensen

“I spend more time sinnin' then I do grievin', these days. This providence 'a scars and memories have left me numb.” - Sampson O’Connel

“Life and death, same thing, really, I's learned both of em are cold, and neither of em are peace.” - Sampson O’Connel

“I am a blank slate 'a sin and misery, tryin' ta remember what the fuck it was like ta be human.” - Sampson O’Connel

“These days, trouble stalks me as a wolf would a rabbit, it snarls and barks, but I don't hear it til the bastard's two feet behind me. I's learned trouble comes, and sometimes, it just don't go.” - Sampson O’Connel

“Look at this life 'a mine and you'll learn there ain't no greener grass on the other side 'a the pasture, just remnants of a wildfire I set ta feel sumthin' other than the cold.” - Sampson O’Connel

“I swing this lasso and try ta catch sumthin' other than myself, but somehow, I always end up draggin' me in.” - Sampson O’Connel

“The devil's got debts ta pay with me, scores ta settle. He's put a price on my head, and shouted to the heavens, "Whosoever sends this man to me howlin', gets the price of a thousand lives." - Sampson O’Connel

“Listen ta the wind, and tell me, is that a thousand angels, a thousand damned souls howlin, or the hell hounds comin' for my hide? Cause these days, I just can't God damn tell.” - Sampson O’Connel

“Good men have suffered cause 'a me, 'spose the boy I was suffered too.” - Clayborne Pettygore

“I've made friends with all this rage, this greed, this hate, I go hand in hand with my vengeance, and these days, we leave death in our wake.” - Clayborne Pettygore

“This world is an eye for an eye, a brother for a brother, and blood for blood. Wolves stalk and rabbits cower, my ol' friend always said trouble comes, and sometimes it just don't go. And I, my friend, and the trouble that just don't go.” - Clayborne Pettygore

“Inside me is rage and love, anger and hate, passion and sorrow. I am a howl of everything I's ever been.” - Clayborne Pettygore

“My bootprints are bloodied in the snow, and whosoever dares follows in their wake will smell the smoke and flee. Cause only men with nuthin' but rage left can face the damn flame. The smoke blots my vision, the sky burnin' orange with the flames 'a my rage, and I spose all I can do is breathe it in.” - Clayborne Pettygore

“A woman once told me, that if your demons are silent, listen for your angels. But my demons howl, these days. They're in the wind and the fallin' 'a the trees. My angels could try ta find me, but they'd be food for the wolves and I'd find them bloodied before they ever reached me.” - Clayborne Pettygore

“My anger is a point blank rifle, leavin' messes and stains in the snow.” - Clayborne Pettygore

“We all lose our voice ev'ry now and then, forget that our strength ain't determined by how loud we can shout, but how softly we can speak when our anger dares swallow us whole.” - Milo Vadotil

“We're few, but our voices are many.” - Milo Vadotil

“Bein' a warrior ain't just bout fightin', it's bout lovin' what you fight for. In all my years I's learned that the greatest trait a warrior can have is compassion. It's kindness and mercy that wins the war, not bloodshed.” - Milo Vadotil

“Some men are handed destiny on a silver platter, and told that's all they can be, and men like me, men like Chance and Kobi, are given the scraps 'a destiny. Guess all we can do is lick it off our fingers and scrounge up the crumbs of our fate.” - Milo Vadotil

“I never saw fate as sumthin' set in stone, just a path 'a bread crumbs ta follow.” - Milo Vadotil

“If I could give a young man some words 'a advice that will always stand true, I'd tell him this. Cryin' is the strongest thing you'll ever do, bein' you is the bravest thing you'll ever do, and hidin' from yourself is the worst thing you can do for yourself and those around you.” - Milo Vadotil

“Man's best friend is compassion and strength built on love.” - Milo Vadotil

“Slip on my boots, try to trudge on and find, these boots are heavy for men who ain’t walked hell. But I ask, with boots so heavy, how is a man to take a single step?” - Damascus McNemanin

“My life passes me by cause I just don't God damn move on.” - Damascus McNemanin

“Power is a deadly thing, it seeps through good men's veins and whispers in there ear, "Let there be dark," and before God can ever shout, "Let there be light," they're consumed by the delusion that they're greater.” - Damascus McNemanin

“The worst thing bout me, is that I can't kick myself out. I'm stuck with my own company, and isn't that damning?” - Damascus McNemanin

“They tell me men like me can be free, they say, "Thank you, for your sins," and you're expected to say, "You're welcome," as if those sins weren't heavy.” - Damascus McNemanin

“I flick the light on, but the switch just don't work no more. The bulb swings flickerin' from the chain as I should from the gallows.” - Damascus McNemanin

“I look ta the starless sky and wonder, oh midnight dove, where do you wander? You are lost to me and yourself, flyin' toward the sun to kill the man who killed you. But you were never a grave, were you? Just a little critter, wanderin' this Earth 'a endless possibilities. But with endless possibilities comes evil, I've learned. What once was a gift has become a curse to all who hold it. The wrapping lies forgotten on the floor, our excitement has turned to horror, and this joy has become... Death.” - Barley Teatherhall

“Look at me, surrounded by these bloodied knives and empty bullet casings. All this peace was earned in violent delights, but don't violent delights have violent ends?” - Barley Teatherhall

“There's murder deep in my heart and rage deep in my soul. These roots kill me from the inside out and I was born as decaying oak and ashen leaves.” - Barley Teatherhall

“Bein' me is a rebellion to who I am, I suppose.” - Barley Teatherhall

“Legends never die, and thus, I am history.” - Killis Richens

“I dream of the shallow end of life, yet I remain in deep water, drowning for my sins.” - Killis Richens

“Justice despises me, mercy fears me, so I imagine death is head over heels for me.” - Killis Richens

“I cannot know peace, the light has trickled from my blood stream and left the shadows to stick to my heart. Festered weeds they are, killing me from inside, rather than warning me with a flesh wound.” - Killis Richens

“I have been grieved for and yet still, I live. I am a shadow of myself, a shadow of death and this trigger that controls me.” - Killis Richens

“I'm a bad man, blaming he who did not pull the trigger. After all, I'm the one in the chamber, being fired off in rage and consequence.” - Killis Richens

“All it takes to live is a little bit of faith and love.” - Freydis Grimkellson

“I almost lost myself in the nightmares I had faced, and da greatest tragedy we could ever face is losing ourselves. Because if we don't have ourselves, who can we really have?” - Freydis Grimkellson

“The world has told me who I am, who I'm supposed to be, but lies won't change me.” - Freydis Grimkellson

“In her eyes I see the waving grass, da splashing waves and the butterfloies fluttering past. I see us hand in hand, facing the storm or the calm sea, we'll face both with a smile.” - Freydis Grimkellson

“A devil and a beast took me in his clawed hands and told me, "This will heal you." But blood never healed anyone.” - Freydis Grimkellson

“Some times, life is a war, it gives us a shield and tells us to splinter it, it gives us an ax and tells us to bloody it, but not all conflict has to be violent.” - Freydis Grimkellson

“I'll fight death with black eyes and bloody knuckles, because I'd rather die fighting for a dream, than die knowing life passed me by.” - Wesley Homan

“I don't want to live forever, no reasonable man would, with immortality comes regret, and for a man who has more regrets than he can count, immortality is a curse more than a blessing.” - Wesley Homan

“Some days I miss the bright sun, I miss the days I was found and not lost, but maybe I'm not lost, just found in a way I've never been.” - Wesley Homan

“Some fight for honor, others fight for blood or their country, but I fight for others. I'd never fight for myself, my life isn't worth another.” - Wesley Homan

“I'm a renegade in a world full of cheats, in the olden days they'd call me "Most wanted, dead or alive," simply for being free.” - Wesley Homan

“The men who are willing to fight, are pioneers of future days full of bright sunlight and birds soaring by.” - Wesley Homan

“In a world full of kings and queens hellbent on domination, freedom is a rebellion.” - Wesley Homan

“It's good to be yourself in a world full of masked men.” - Wesley Homan

“If you're facing the opposition, preach your dream and find most men are dreamers, not fighters.” - Wesley Homan

“I've been swimming in the deep end with the sharks, praying they don't smell the black blood I've spilled. But they pass me by, because they're more interested in innocent blood.” - Gregory Malhawkson

“I have tried to love first, I have tried to understand my enemy, but there's nothing but hate in his veins and sins in his smile. His cracked yellow teeth haunt my dreams, and every time a wolf howls I fear he draws ever nearer. He is a blood-stained beast, but I can't become him in the pursuit of peace.” - Gregory Malhawkson

“My foe once told me I can't swim against his tide, that I'll drown before ever I find the source of my misery. But doesn't he know, I've been walking on his river bank, crawling up from behind.” - Gregory Malhawkson

“Just remember, damned wolf, if you're justice, and I'm mercy, than vengeance will swoop down and cut one of our throats. And in these years under your boot I've learned, I'm a gambling man.” - Gregory Malhawkson

“In the mirror I see his ever smiling face, the rose on his tailored suit, the blood on his blade and smile. The beast I damned stares back at me with my eyes. All this blood, all this darkness, all these scars and this loss, and for what? A mad man's war against peace?” - Gideon Krober

“Time and karma are chasing me, blood on their blades and my sins listed on cracked yellow paper. I fear karma, but I fear myself, too, so what can I really say but, "I'm fucked?" - Clark Singer

“I'm knocking on heaven's gates, cause I can't take this anymore. But my allies aren't in heaven, they're right beside me, but sometimes I wonder if I'm just preparing for the future.” - Clark Singer

“Oh mother, won't you take these guns from me? Won't you take this darkness and turn it into light? I want you in my life but fear the fact that you gaze upon me. You were my sanctuary and my light, my home and my heart, and now I've run miles from where you wanted me to be. God was never on my side, but you always were.” - Clark Singer

“I can point my guns at the ground and say, "I can't fire! I won't!" But the moment I'm in danger I'll raise that rifle and ruin another life.” - Clark Singer

“My sins sit here on my sleeve, the devil on my shoulder stitching more into the fabric of my coat. The angel lost the battle against the devil on my shoulder, and now all I can hear in my ear are the whispered victory cries of this beast lying heavy on my coat.” - Clark Singer

“In my reflection I see every man I've ever killed and the eyes of my mother, twisted in some odd way.” - Clark Singer

“If I were to retrieve the darkest parts of me and shove them in the corner, you'd be looking at such an ugly, wicked, blood-stained beast, with sharp jagged teeth and eyes that beg for death.” - Abadellon Hourglass

“They say time's all we got, but I'm not the ordinary type, I'm blood and death, war wrought symphonies and screeching angels. So let's kill tonight, my friend, let's kill! Blood shall lie slick on the dance floor, and in this carnival of souls we'll learn, the howls of the damned are the most beautiful of arrangements.” - Abadellon Hourglass

“Humanity is a damned race, have been ever since the serpent infected Eden. So don't you suppose that's God's fault for giving the serpent venom? One garden, one serpent, and a wrathful God? Eden never stood a chance, nor did Eve, nor Adam, nor we.” - Abadellon Hourglass

“Perhaps power is the serpent to my Eden.” - Abadellon Hourglass

“All the roses have turned to graves, all the dogs have turned to wolves, and all the men have turned to beasts.” - Abadellon Hourglass

“Look at us, damned in a beautiful way, howling in a sinful sway. It was always meant to be this way, so sing, dance, your dark, merry little heart is content only with sin. So sin, my friend. Only men who feed their demons make it through the dark.” - Abadellon Hourglass

“It's my time to shine, cause I've learned history favors the underdog.” - Chance Shade

“The world'll try to beat you down, man, it'll tell you you're out of your mind, but you just gotta say, "Get outta my way, this is my life and I'll reach my star." Dreams is all we are, stars in the night sky who forgot how to blink out.” - Chance Shade

“We're dogs chasing headlights and butterflies, just for the thrill of it all. We'd never dare catch em, we'd never dare end the chase in blood.” - Chance Shade

“I've got dreams that keep me up in the dead of night, I toss and I turn, and somedays I forget, I'm on my way home. Cause this path has been long, man. It's winding and it's cold, it's covered in snow and regret. But I can't go back, cause the snow's covered my footprints in a cold sheet of forgotten dreams.” - Chance Shade

“No matter where I go, no matter where I run, I'm always moving forward, and I think that's what counts.” - Chance Shade

“After all these cold nights, and all these cold paths, I found my star in the night sky. If we blink out, we'll blink out together.” - Chance Shade

“I have been regret soft spoken, and anger wrongly placed, what am I but a whisper of everything I've ever felt?” - Billy Velmenstru

“My heart's airing out, hanging from the old tire swing, draining every childhood memory of innocence and turning it into pain.” - Billy Velmenstru

“We're swimming our way home, trying the best we can. But our doubts and insecurities are blood thirsty sharks, smelling the pain before we ever do.” - Billy Velmenstru

“I look to the sun and smile, but she knows better than that.” - Billy Velmenstru

“I am bullet holes and stale cigarette smoke, the broken cigarette hanging from a bad man's lip. I ain't a saint, but I could be if I tried. But I never will. We were born sinners and crawling up the hill I've been at the bottom of since birth just ain't worth the fucking effort.” - Billy Velmenstru

“Oh world, I'm home, it's a lonely place in this heart of mine, and I just don't know where to lay it.” - Billy Velmenstru

“On a sunny day I'm the good Samaritan, but when required, I am the burglar and the man lying bloodied on the side of the road.” - Carlados Dove

“In a world of restless souls, good men are hard to come by, so if you smile, and you agree, the restless soul will blindly follow you into the dark. But they never knew I led them just under the bed where the monsters reside.” - Carlados Dove

“Monsters are just tales and myths of what humanity's done. We are more blood-stained then the wolf, more viscous than the grizzly, deadlier than the black plague and more mysterious than the plague doctors who wandered the cobble streets, with death and intrigue in their stride.” - Carlados Dove

“Around here, no one keeps their eyes closed, we're staring at the higher powers, challenging their gaze.” - Carlados Dove

“The clock stops ticking upon my arrival, for it knows I am here to steal time.” - Carlados Dove

“I shook hands with the devil as I looked in the mirror, and I found, he looks just like me. His crooked smile and fine tailored suit. My mother always told me the devil wears a suit and tie, so I suited up and straightened my tie, flashed my crooked grin to the world, and said, "The devil's home." - Carlados Dove

“Death is the only presence protecting us from the horrors of life, these days. I'd hang myself from a noose if it meant freedom, though my body would be swinging, my soul would be soaring.” - Aciano Dominick

“Perhaps I have to cut the head from the snake if I ever wish to see Eden again. It was beautiful, my paradise, for my paradise was family. But they were stolen from me, howling "Save me! Save me!" But all I could do was stare at the barrel of my gun and swear I'd kill the man who took them.” - Aciano Dominick

“He stole my life in his stride, and in the barrel of his gun are the howls of those I love, and the damned cries he ripped from my throat.” - Aciano Dominick

“Vengeance is all I know, it's crawled into my heart and my head, knocking around my skull and whispering empty promises in my ear. "You will be free," it says, "You will be free," but his death won't grant me freedom, only mine, will. I suppose to me, my death is my Eden.” - Aciano Dominick

“Some days I believe it is my faith that desires to kill me.” - Sigmallio Stirling

“The weight of my silence is overbearing, but the weight of his silence is damning.” - Sigmallio Stirling

“They say it is our faith, our prayer that keeps us alive, but all I hear are echoes of my own voice. God cannot possibly be speaking to me from my own echo, for if he did, all I'd ever hear are questions and cries.” - Sigmallio Stirling

“I tell my love to meet me on the battlefield, hand in hand we will fight this injustice, but somedays I fear it is this battlefield that will be our grave. How could we possibly call it a warzone when it's all corpses? It'd be more appropriate to call it a graveyard, a damned place, courage and honor traveled to my heart to die.” - Sigmallio Stirling

“I have met the devil, with his crooked smile and slanted eyes. He tells me to kneel at his feet, or he'll kneel at my grave, but what does that mean? Is it him or my faith that desires to kill me? Does he want me to fall, or has he already seen me plummet?” - Sigmallio Stirling

“I cannot stand this silence, this damning silence, it is all I hear. No echoes, no prayers, no thoughts, can kill the weight of this silence. It brings me down to it's level and tells me, "God cannot hear you, for he never was." I cry and I weep but it is of no use. It is as if I have no mouth, and yet, I must scream.” - Sigmallio Stirling

“It's easy to say "I did the best I could," when the worst comes to fruition, but if you didn't give it your all, if you didn't fight the immeasurable odds with black eyes and bloody teeth, than you didn't really do the best you could. You did the best you could without sacrifice.” - Michael Tabrowski

“They say in order to do good by the world you must do wrong, but how can that possibly be right?” - Michael Tabrowski

“I've learned there is no sanctuary, no safe haven, no heaven no hell, that can save me from my damning memories.” - Michael Tabrowski

“I cannot preach what I do not know, so when I tell you redemption is not something you want to go through, I mean it. Stay on the right path the best you can, because redemption is hard. It's painful, it's not a race, it's not a marathon, it's a constant battle against yourself and the demons that have become a part of you. It's not a path for the light of heart, only the dark of heart. And it's best to keep your heart beating red as long as possible.” - Michael Tabrowski

“Not all men who do bad, are bad.” - Michael Tabrowski

“Strength earned from grief is a painful kind of courage.” - Michael Tabrowski

“If you look behind the mask of a damned man, you'll find every battle they ever lost, and every smile they ever tried to hide.” - Michael Tabrowski

“Sticks and stones have broken me, and I call myself a warrior?” - Markus Caesar

“I wear Dr. Emory's broken crown of thorns atop my skull. It drains the dreams from my mind and pulls the hope from my veins.” - Markus Caesar

“I'm a dog these days, sniffin' up the same old secret, the same old grave. My owner scorns me, but I can't stop sniffin', cause these bones are mine. I see my own skull grinnin', my ribs weary and broken, cuz in this age, I'm diggin' up my haunted future.” - Markus Caesar

“I was once a warrior, tryin' ta bring justice ta the innocent, justice ta the vulnerable, but now I'm the one who needs savin.” - Markus Caesar

“This road I walked were full 'a secrets and fresh dug graves, but if I'd looked a lil' farther I would'a seen a tomb that read my name.” - Markus Caesar

“I'm just a carnival 'a rust, the jesters and fools have damned themselves for bowin' ta me.” - Markus Caesar

“I 'spose I explain my pain so beautifully cause I can't handle the truth.” - Markus Caesar

“Chargin' inta the unknown turns ya inta a mystery, dun'it?” - Markus Caesar

“My memories are closin' in for the kill, these bloodthirsty lions and fools.” - Markus Caesar

“In these past hauntin's, I see Emory's curious eyes, feedin' upon the memories that damned me. In the mirror I see his eyes, his flickerin' soul, he's hauntin' me, his laugh echoin' in my cries. “ - Markus Caesar

“I fear I have witnessed true evil, and he is far from human. Men can be bad ta the core, but no warlord, no conqueror, no blade ridden fool has ever found themselves lookin' at the world through evil's eyes. For he wears a suit and tie, dancin' in the shawl 'a human misery like he owned the damned race.” - Markus Caesar

“I haz von many a time, but all it took vaz one loss to break me.” - Sameth Winn

“I'd burn my bridges if I zought it vould bring me to her. My sweet daughter, my star in ze night sky, I cannot find her, she vaz my North Star, and now I fear I can't find home. I cannot move on, I cannot remember how to breathe, she vaz the breath in my lungs.” - Sameth Winn

“I hold Toby's heart in my hands, and it beats as slow as mine does. It drips vith sorrow, vith regret and love, but ze grief screams louder.” - Sameth Winn

“Ze vorld haz stopped shining, and zis pain overpowers my love. Ve're holding onto each ozah, because ve're all ze ozah has. Our hearts have broken in half, and sadly, grief found it'z opportunity and filled up ze ozah half.” - Sameth Winn

“Life has taken me through many trials, I'm still standing, but that doesn't mean I've regained all I had won.” - Toby Winn

“I close my eyes and dream of better days, it's sad, that we don't get to be here long, and spend our days dreaming of times that were better.” - Toby Winn

“The good ol' days have passed us by, the wind heard our love and took it with his stride.” - Toby Winn

“I hold Sameth's heart in my hands, but it beats slower and slower, some days I fear it'll stop with all this grief.” - Toby Winn

“All we want is to hold our daughter in our arms again, to hear her laugh, to watch her smile. But love has become such a war. Grief and regret stands on the front lines, firing their rifles in rage and pain, telling us this is all we'll ever be.” - Toby Winn

“These memories won't heal, they're scars in my mind, trouble that just doesn't go. I fear this pain is all I can muster, the smiles have faded from my face, my laugh don't sound the same. There was joy behind that smile once, love behind that laugh. But this smile remains full of tears, this laugh full of glass.” - Toby Winn

“I am the easy target the arrow sinks inta, cause they always come for the wild ones, the damned, the freaks 'a nature.” - Bortley Dekruiful

“The circus dragged me into it's depths kicking and screamin', I followed no siren's song. I fought back tooth and nail 'gainst this blood-stained melody, but she covered me with marks 'a her claws and notes 'a her song. And now I'm in a trance, a foolish delusion that I'll be the last one standin' in a murder full 'a crows.” - Bortley Dekruiful

“I make friends with the beasts and lions in my head, with friends like these I'm my own fuckin' enemy.” - Bortley Dekruiful

“I am the beast master, the damned man, but out of all the beasts I've ever tamed, I'm the hardest one ta catch. I can make friends with lions and cheats, and yet, I can't tame this beast that is me. I am my own beast, and I do not bow to myself.” - Bortley Dekruiful

“I am a wildfire, scorching myself and anyone who dares step foot in the ashen forest of me. I could build an empire of these scorched bones, these scalded skulls. I could sit upon my throne and gaze upon an ever smiling crowd of subjects that forgot to burn is to die.” - Richter Vellomonte

“There are no more heroes in this ashen land, this forest of burnt stumps. Our capes flutter in tatters, relics of who we were draped over our shoulders. But who we used to be is a weight we cannot seem to lift.” - Richter Vellomonte

“This world is kill or be killed, do not forget that he who refuses to pull the trigger catches the bloody bullet.” - Richter Vellomonte

“I suppose, with all this blood on my hands, I have become a wolf. Or a beast, or some extant form of man. I have bled on the floor, and as I realized there were no more heroes left to save me, I had to become the villain that would save himself.” - Richter Vellomonte

“Life is a terrible thing, wrought with terror and horror, ugly prose and poetry, it was never beautiful, just a bloodbath.” - Richter Vellomonte

“I looked at the man I was and said, "I'll build myself an empire," and he told me, with all his childhood naivety, that it would be lonely at the top.” - Richter Vellomonte

“I have been fed the scraps of destiny, devouring crumbs of fate. But I made my own destiny. They say I lost my mind as they threw me to the wolves, but don't they realize? It was among the wolves and the bastards that I found it.” - Richter Vellomonte

“Sympathy is found in such cruel hearts, why is peace found in the eye of the storm when we could give it to better men?” - Jonine Nataliseburg

“Evil is such a wicked root, digging into history, festering it from the inside out.” - Jonine Nataliseburg

“I've learned we are comets amongst the stars, burning in the atmosphere, hurtling toward love and hate, life and death.” - Jonine Nataliseburg

“We're wicks of a candle doomed to burn out, but we should find solace in the fact that we created light while we were here.” - Jonine Nataliseburg

“I find myself in the crossfire of history colliding.” - Jonine Nataliseburg

“Carlita believes she's the final bullet in the chamber, but alas, she's the oak tree, sturdy and strong, roots of light digging into history and driving out the dark. Her scars make her beautiful and strong, her history builds her compassion and everything that has not yet killed her built her throne.” - Jonine Nataliseburg

“There are no more heroes, only the violent ones and the few good men still left.” - Jesus Romez

“Look at this life of mine and you'll damn me, look at this soul of mine and you'll forgive me. Though you are no God, I do not expect you to.” - Jesus Romez

“I have learned evil is a learned behavior, passed down from generation to generation, starting with Adam and ending with Eve.” - Jesus Romez

“I am one of the many violent beasts, and as I look around me, I see monsters, they wear flesh white masks and stained teeth, their snarls are full of hunger, their nails cracked and broken. But look around you, and you'll find the los Muertos vivientes are not the only beasts that roam. They wear our hearts, our skin, our souls. Their eyes are blue and brown, their hair long and short. Monsters look just like us, hiding their fangs behind a blood-stained smile. And we thought the dark hid them? No, my amigo, light hides the monsters in plain sight, the rays of moonlight bask them in a cold glow, revealing what they always were.” - Jesus Romez

“I was born a damned man, foot in the grave, heart in the soil.” - Jesus Romez

“The dawn in my soul has risen red time and time again, I have lost myself to the dark and the lies I believed.” - Alphonsine Daub’ONair

“I have found that in the circus we dance and laugh, we jiv and we jive, but behind our painted smiles, and behind our painted nails, is blood and dirt from the graves we've dug while still alive.” - Alphonsine Daub’ONair

“I am just another clown of Borbasli's Siren Cove, dancing in a rainstorm, juggling knives and doubts.” - Alphonsine Daub’ONair

“We flip the pages and hope to find the end of this torture, but as we read the prose and stare at the poetry, we learn in beauty there was only hidden intention.” - Alphonsine Daub’ONair

“I am so covered in blood I call paint, I am a wolf of painted smiles and curly red wigs.” - Alphonsine Daub’ONair

“We're all stories in the end, bastards and cheats glorifying our damn tales. But they weren't never grand, in the end.” - Walt Burrick

“There ain't no sliver 'a light in this hollow abyss 'a me.” - Walt Burrick

“I am a king wearin' a crown 'a thorns, I never 'spected ta be the one on the damn cross, but here I am, a crucified corpse 'a all I've ever been. The boy 'a wonder, the innocent man tastin' the dark, and the wicked beast all beatin' in one damn chest.” - Walt Burrick

“I'm burnin' alive for these sins 'a mine, wolves are on the prowl for my wicked soul, but they were once sheep, I 'spose to these poor, sorrowed werewolves, I'm the damn moon.” - Walt Burrick

“Spare your sympathy for a damned man, I don't need no silver dollar, I don't need no rusted nickel, for I'm a crooked smile and a wicked blade, nuthin' more than an extension 'a these lives I've took.” - Walt Burrick

“I am swingin' on a rope 'a every lie I ever told, and if an angel were to hear knockin' on heaven's doors, they'd soon realize it was nuthin' but my corpse, thump, thump, thumpin' gainst the damn gates.” - Walt Burrick

"I'll tell ya what, when dark deeds stand on the horizon, stars don't shine like normal. Sure, they're still there, but they don't bring no wonder, only judgment as they gaze at us." - Walt Burrick

"Murphy, look. You're a criminal, there's no denying that, and I'm F.B.I. Neither of our boots are standing on a good place to be. But, I have been told that if you come with me, you drop that gun of yours and, and surrender yourself willingly; that we can get your boots where they're supposed to be. Because right now, Murphy, you and I? We're on thin fucking ice." - Alfred Godsel

"Ah, hello darkness, my old friend. Faring just as well as usual, I would imagine?" - Alfred Godsel

"Oh that ain't heaven at my door. Ain't hell, neither. No, I would imagine not. Just an old friend of mine... Old friends, actually. Darkness, greed and selfishness tend to hold me awfully close." - Alfred Godsel

"Some days you're up, some days you're down, but no matter what, you always got the chance to stand." - Alfred Godsel

"Oh, holdin' a clean knife don't get you very far." - Zafavri Holts

"Come on, I'm a weapon, and weapons don't weep." - Zafavri Holts

"Life beats ya down, it do, but I say, face the challenge, cause it ain't the bark in the dog that counts, it's the love." - Montgomery Dalton

"Have we all been damned or is that just living?" - Murphy Joy

"You are the goblet that never runs dry, my friend. And I will drink from your pain." - Anadon Finch

"Heavy does my heart sit upon the scale, heavy are the secrets that made it so." - Mason White "Payin' the devil's price ain't much ta pay when you forget you ain't your past." - Mick Fallbrook

"I fear I am a reflection of my vengeance." - Diamond Valos

"Justice ain't no lady, nor is redemption, twisted, battered whores they are, caught in a wicked dance." - Sampson O'Connel

"No one cares for the breathing man, they'll scorn you above soil and weep when you're below it." - Burasbley Highersman

"Evil's on my mind, blood is on my hands, and I'm livin' by a crimson stained gun." - Decazle DeLillium

"Set fire ta the roses 'a the graves I've made and tell all who stand in my way, I'm comin' home." - Zachary DeLillium

"When life crumbles, you got to wonder what it's worth." - Bennington Shillow

"I suppose dead men don't speak and nor shall I." - Turner Kordell

"Ever since I was a boy the streets were my home, the rain was my only comfort, the roaring of the highway my only friend." - Kobi Grant

"Look, kid, you try to be more than yourself, you'll end up less than yourself." - Kobi Grant

"You know, home isn't always where you lay your head, it's where you lay your heart." - Shalko Valwit

"Trust me, no man ever wishes for pain, nor do they dream of it. But unfortunately for you, Chance. This is a nightmare." - Karl Vadibrinski

"I am many things, and I suppose for you, I'm a cold midnight grave, left desolate in the cemetery." - Karl Vadibrinski

"The shadows will swallow you whole before ever you are blinded by the light of your dreams." - Karl Vadibrinski

"Take the higher road the powerful say, acting as if they took it all along." - Milo Vadotil

"Look where dreamin' got Icarus." - Theodore Holymann

"When I stand before God, I will have to justify the time I spent on this Earth, and I'm afraid, I won't be able to." - Jarvis McGregor

"I'm starting to realize, I'm no better than those who put me through the ringer and told me I wasn't enough." - Jarvis McGregor

"So, here I sit, at the bottom of the deep blue sea, wondering when the sharks will smell the blood on my fists. Will they drag me to shore, or will they rip and tear at my flesh until I am no more? Can you trust a shark within it's natural habitat, can you trust the wolf not to tear into the sheep?" - Jarvis McGregor

"It's a feeling I won't ever forget. Knowing something bad is going to happen, and it's going to be all your fault." - Isiah McGregor

"I guess some folks are meant for prison, their lives are broken from the start and on the highway they live, prison is the simple destination in which they've been headed for ever since they were born." - Isiah McGregor

"No one was asked if they wanted to walk this Earth." - Leopolo Diamon

"Funny how age kills dreams and rips them asunder." - Leopolo Diamon

"Funny, how we must fall is we are ever to rise again, and we must first break, if we ever wish to be whole... So I ask one question, when shall I be whole, for I have broken a dozen times, and yet, I am unable to carry every piece in my arms, so I simply must leave them behind." - Hargrove Solomons

"Every man is accountable for his sins, whether he has nothing but lint in his pocket or a billion dollars in his bank, I lived, to ensure, everyone was accountable, I was the angel of death, the judge, the jury, and the executioner, and no stone would go unturned, no man, left alive." - Hargrove Solomons

"I'm the chicken inside of the pen, and yet, I'm the fox stalking the damn night, and I don't know which one 'a us will fucking win." - Rodriguez Brickjaw

"There ain't no more soldiers, just men with violent hearts we can't call broken anymore." - Duke Benson "Swing me from the gallows, eh? It's da only fing you can do for a damned man." - Jerry Benson

"Strange, in'it, how when a soldier asks God where he went, all he hears is gunfire. And perhaps that's God's voice, the language 'a war the only tongue he knows." - Mordakai Benson

"Love is worth a helluva lot more than hate." - Phillip Scarrow

"I was always the outcast, the cat in a room full 'a dogs." - Chad Broker

"Trust gets you nowhere, no matter who they say they are, who they claim to be, there's always something hiding just behind the damn smile. If I didn't know any better, I'd think it was a warning." - Andera Malikson "Songs of war knock at your door, my friend. Dare you answer them?" - Valskirrith Deskgrottir "Death is a wild hound, smelling blood on the battlefield before it was ever spilled." - Valskirrith Deskgrottir

"When faced with death, you smile back and pull the trigger." - Clayborne Pettygore

"I hold life and death in my hands, and they slip often, these days." - Zacharia Von Shelton

"I suppose on the battlefield we're all legends, fighting for our right to history." - Nolan Vanberg

"The day we die ain't no cloudy sky, ain't no storm ridden path. When we pass on, and the world reclaims us, the sun will be high in the sky, smilin' at the world as she always do. There is no beauty in death, but it does not take the beauty from the world." - Brock Snipersway "Bein' damned is a good enough reason to keep marchin. So march." - Brock Snipersway

"The light at the end 'a the tunnel is just another runaway train, and I chase it with reckless abandon, refusin' ta believe it'll run me down." - Mikaelson Graves

"We let the sinners in the stable, and the story of faith was twisted into a blood written tale." - Alex Hoffs "Be holy, they say, be goot, but as soon as ya defy their order, they fuckin' defy themselves." - Aggemuth Williamson "Don't dare forget that dark souls once knew the light." - Brayton Oakes "In your presence, I have learned death is not equal nor is it fair. You have twisted the meaning of death from peace to control." - Lucian Void

"We are pawns in a game we are meant to lose." - Lucian Void "They say the dark slowly eats away at the light. But in this place? There was no loving God to say let there be light in the first place." - Hilton Kingrey

"People, they're just like flowers, you see. You put em in the wrong soil, they whither and writhe, no matter how much water you give em. But you put em in rich, heartful soil, and they'll start to bloom. They'll embrace the rain, the storm, the tramplin', cause it helps em grow. Sure, some days they'll bend down, hidin' from the sun, and other days, the shadows'll leave em cold. But ya just gotta give em time. If a flower's dyin', ya change the soil, not the flower. It's same with man." - Wilford Straw

"I have seen all this world has to offer, and yet, I hold nothing." - Jolene Paquil "What a fall from heaven, my life has been." - Killis Richens "Jou think ze devil vould valk freely whilst Olympus still roams? Vith men like him infesting ze Earth, it's no vonder God abandoned us." - Cillian Suchett "The thing that sets me apart from the bad men, is that I don't want to be a monster, I just am." - Alfonso O'Sullivan "Burn the witch, they say, damning the girl who didn't do a thing, whilst the man who pulled the trigger stands, smirking within the shadow of the flame." - Yotsuki Brightburn "You were dead the day you promised my mother glory in Valhalla, dooming her to a purgatory in Hellheim by making a mockery of her death. And thus, my friend, I shall make a mockery of you." - Valskirith Deskgrotirr "You say your blood runs black, but we'll see how much you lie when I cut your throat." - Barley Teatherhall

"Sinners and thieves never win, they say. But it is the wolf that claims the sheep, the hunter that catches the prey. Who's to say we won't re-write the definition of winning?" - Wendell Blackvalley

#Writing #author #characters #characterlines

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areiton · 4 years ago

Text

what you know - stucky

This is what you know about soulmates:

Some find them young.

~*~

You are six years old, fighting mad and bloody faced, when James Barnes swans into your life, larger than life, prettier than Mama, and brilliantly alive.

You are six years old when he quirks a grin at you, all mischief and smug and you say, “I didn’t need no help.”

“Got it though, didn’t ya,” he shoots back, and you shiver. You sway and he reaches for you and you don’t quite understand the way your heart trips and tumbles and steadies next to a new thumping heartbeat, the way his eyes go wide. You don’t understand the ache in your knuckles or the way he touches his lip and winces.

You are six years old, and you don’t know what soulmates means, really, when you meet James Buchanan Barnes.

~*~

This is what you know about soulmates:

They share pain.

~*~

Bucky always knows when you’re fighting, because he can feel it, the hot bloom of pain when you’re getting punched, the crack of your ribs and the bruises blooming up because you decided to get involved when some asshole got handsy with Dot.

You know when his Da gets drunk and comes home, beats his anger into Bucky’s ribs, busts his lip, and you think the helpless fury you feel is what he does, when you’re hurting and he’s catching echoes.

It keeps you outta fights while he heals up, keeps your touch gentle and your voice light until he snaps at you, all brittle bruised fury and you snarl back, and the fragility that ol’ man Barnes beats into him with heavy fists shatters with sharp, love-laced words.

~*~

This is what you know about soulmates:

It isn’t easy.

~*~

Your Ma had a soulmate, a pretty woman named Eliza that she drew, when you could drag her away from the washing, and the cooking--mostly on the nights when you were sick and couldn’t draw for yourself and Ma would trace Eliza’s features on butcher paper, and you’d watch in awe to see her come to life, this woman you never met, would never meet.

She had a soulmate, and she married your Da instead, left Eliza in Ireland and he left her in New York, a baby in her belly, for a war that would kill him.

“Bein’ soulmates don’t mean life is easy, love,” she said and watched Bucky, chasing tomcats in the alley.

You spit blood on the floor of a dancehall and Bucky tackles a mouthy bastard to the ground, fists flying, rage contorting his face because he called you a fairy, a queer, a fag, and you think about her words and how much you just wanna be left alone with your soulmate.

Bucky yelps and pain blossoms on your jaw and you wade back into the fight, snarling.

~*~

This is what you know about soulmates:

They mean happiness.

~*~

Your dirt poor and sick as hell and Bucky works too hard and spends his sabbath at temple with his Ma and sisters, and sits shiva whenever someone dies, and there’s nights when you only stop shivering when he wraps around you, lips pressed to your neck, hands hot on your belly and a heat that isn’t from him licks through you.

You’re poor and sick and tired and you go days without seein’ him even though you share a tiny apartment but there’s this too--

He kisses you when he slips out. You leave food in the icebox for him, and smile when it’s gone. He wraps around you when your sleepin’ and you know that when you cough, he’ll wake, worried and careful. He knows that when he comes home, exhausted and sad, you’ll be waiting with open arms and quiet.

You’re tired and your poor and you’re sick--and you are happier than you ever thought you would be.

~*~

This is what you know about soulmates:

It’s a lonely business.

~*~

Bucky kisses you in your dark apartment and squeezes your hand before he slips away, and he’s beautiful in his uniform, everything you love all packaged up pretty and off to fight for the country you both love, and you ache with it, even before his footsteps fade, a drumbeat that echoes and throbs and promises months of loneliness.

You hold tight to a promise of a stranger, and the loneliness that chases you through bootcamp and the Rebirth chamber and all across the damn country, while pain blooms on your skin, and a heartbeat not your own flickers in your chest.

~*~

This is what you know about soulmates:

There’s some things the soul knows.

~*~

Phillips says Bucky is dead and Peggy stares at you with pity in her pretty brown eyes, her mouth set in an unhappy curve and the rain is still coming down.

But you can feel him, can feel his heartbeat like your own, matching. Can feel the ache in his bones that reminds you of the vita-rays. Can feel the bruises and blood spilt and the pounding in his head, and the dryness of his lips, cracked and bleeding.

You turn to go and Peggy, she chases you because she’s the smartest dame you know, and you look at her when she says it, again, gently this time. “Your friend is dead, Steve.”

“He isn’t.”

Maybe it’s your tone or maybe it’s something in your eyes but she stills, and she stares at you. “How do you know?”

“He’s my soulmate,” you say and your voice doesn’t shake, because it’s terrified you for years, hiding your male soulmate, because the world doesn’t look kindly on that. Peggy pales, and she takes a half step back, something you won’t think about filling her eyes. “He’s my soulmate,” you say again. “And he’s not dead.”

~*~

This is what you know about soulmates:

Few survive without the other.

~*~

You rescue him.

You rescue him and you fight with him, side by side for years, and then it falls apart in a rush of wind and his voice screaming and a fall so long you can’t see the end of it.

You watch him fall and you want to fall with him.

You cling to the train, held there by your men, and you ache in your bones, but it’s your ache, your pain, and the heartbeat you know like your own, that has been the match to your own for decades--is quiet.

They treat you with a quiet fragility that makes you want to scream, the Commandos and Peggy both. Phillips doesn’t know that Bucky was your soulmate, and he’s brusque, almost cruel, and you’re grateful for it, grateful for the mission because if you don’t have that, you’ll put a bullet in your brain, and Bucky spent more than half his life keepin’ you alive, and how the hell is it fair to him, to kill yourself?

You don’t care about fair, really, you miss him, want to chase him down into that endless fall, to the only place he’s gone that you can’t follow.

And then there’s bombs and a endless stretch of ice and sea, and you can hear the frantic pain in Peggy’s voice, but you smile as you tip your plane down into the ice and dream you can still feel his heartbeat.

~*~

This is what you know about soulmates:

The ones who survive--don’t.

~*~

You wake up.

You shouldn’t, and you hate Fury and Coulson and SHIELD, for waking you, for dragging you into this future you don’t know, don’t want.

You hate the whole fucking world, because you are in it.

You wake up and you shouldn’t, and you fight because you aren’t sure what else you can do, and tryin’ to kill yourself didn’t take.

Sometimes, when you’re lying in your bed in SHIELD’s headquarters, you imagine you can feel a heartbeat, sweet and familiar, thrumming next to yours.

Ma called ‘em phantom ticks--the heartbeat of your soulmate long after they’d died. She felt them, after Eliza died, after the pain exploded in her head and left her writhing and weak, and then pale, hand clutching her chest.

You never wanted to. You never asked Bucky about the nights when you were sick, and lingering near death, if he ever felt the aching absence of your heartbeat.

You hope like hell he didn’t, because this--this is a hell you would never wish on someone you love.

~*~

This is what you know about soulmates:

They are complicated.

~*~

Your pulse steadies when you meet Natasha, and your breathing slows to match Tony, and you can feel the way that every sense in you reaches for Sam.

They’re yours and you didn’t even know that was possible.

“Stark spent a shit ton of time and money learning everything he could about soulmates,” Sam says. “It’s not always romantic, ya know? There are other soulbonds. Ours is platonic.”

“How do you know?”

Sam casually cuts his arm open, a shallow stinging cut--and you don’t feel it.

“Have you--do you have--”

“Riley,” Sam says, softly. “He was my soulmate, my heart-true soulmate.”

There’s an ocean of grief there, echoing in his voice and you can’t feel his pain, but you can feel this ache, and you reach out, blindly, and Sam’s hand squeezes yours.

“You aren’t alone, here,” Sam says. “Stark ain’t my soulmate. Nat’s got Clint. But we’re all yours and your ours, and this world might not be the one you want--but we’re here.”

You breathe, and there are tears burning in your eyes but you think that maybe--maybe you can learn to live again.

~*~

This is what you know about soulmates:

You got lucky.

~*~

Natasha is beautiful and brilliant and you adore her. You see echoes of Peggy in her, in the way she fights, free and fierce, and the way she commands the world she walks through, refusing to bend to the men around her. She’s soft with you, teaches you how to make borscht soup and foists Liho on you when she vanishes with her heart-true soulmate for missions and sometimes, for weekends that bring her back to you loose limbed and smiling. Clint is good for her, and it hurts, sometimes, seeing them together, but you’re happy for her.

Tony is brash and loud and pushy and you fight with him when you aren’t fighting together, and when you are, it’s like fighting side by side with Bucky, an extension of yourself that you didn’t realize you missed, until he’s there, and you feel safe, in the middle of the world gone sideways. He’s pushy and demanding and extravagant, and you take a while to realize it’s because he cares so much it hurts, that he pours every bit of himself into the people he loves, because he can’t help himself. He has two heart-true soulmates, and you think he needs two just to keep him steady, and then you meet them and you’re pretty sure that Rhodey and Pepper and Tony could rule the world if they wanted, or could be dragged out of Tony’s workshop long enough. They match him, wild and brilliant, a genius touched with madness, and it doesn’t show in Rhodey and Pepper as quick, but then he sees Pepper facing down the Secretary of Defense, and he sees Rhodey fighting and he sees them all together and drunk and he doesn’t know if he’s turned on or terrified.

Sam is quiet and sarcastic and steady, the things he misses most about Bucky without the history. Sam sees Steve, not just the shield and the cowl, not the seventy years of trauma and loss. He shows Steve the new century--Nat and Tony do too, but Sam shows him a new world that Nat and Tony can’t, show him the world from the outside looking in, the place that Steve always found himself, and it’s different--a sickly queer kid and a black boy--but it’s familiar, too, a different kind of familiar, and he likes seeing the world through Sam’s eyes, and aches, seeing the world through Sam’s eyes.

Sam knows, too, what it’s like to lose the soulmate of your heart, and the night that Steve tells him about Bucky, they drink until he finally cries, and fall asleep curled together like puppies, and he feels warm for the first time in years.

~*~

This is what you know about soulmates:

Not a damn thing.

~*~

You dream, still, sometimes. About a warm body sleeping next to you, and a familiar voice shaping your name and pain blooming across your knuckles and your heart tumbling to match his.

~*~

This is what you know about soulmates:

Sometimes, the universe gets it right.

~*~

You fight him on a bridge, and pain starbursts against your skin with every blow of your fist, and your heartbeat is erratic and painful and you finally stare and you say, “Bucky?”

He watches you with wide, terrified eyes, and runs from Sam, and you want to chase.

When you do--when the helicarriers are smoking in the Potomac and your platonic soulmates are watching with wide, scared, angry eyes, you chase and Bucky runs, and you think the universe got it right, tying you together, a century ago, and keeping that bond through the ice and the torture, and you hope that it’s enough to bring him home.

Sam chases with you and Tony watches, angry and petulant and finally throwing himself into helping, and Natasha does the same, and you think you got lucky, got so fucking lucky, to have them and this second chance with Bucky.

~*~

This is what you know about soulmates:

You get one second chance.

~*~

In the end, you chasing him doesn’t mean shit because you're asleep in Sam’s apartment in Harlem and Bucky is sliding through the window and into your bed, and he’s skittish and bloody and won’t meet your eye.

But his hand is on your heart, and his heartbeat is thrumming along, next to yours and his voice is a familiar welcome home when he says, “I missed you.”

#stucky #stucky fic #arei writes fic #bucky barnes #steve rogers

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achtung-attitude · 4 years ago

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CHAPTER 34: House of Pain

It’s a hot day, and humid, the sea wind swirling over the city, leaving everyone in their tank tops, open shirts and short shorts feeling breathless and damp. T’onga Kim wears her jumpsuit and dark fur coat. Her expression is inscrutable behind reflective aviators. She walks quickly, yet appears not to sweat at all. She only stops, begrudgingly, for a red light.

A young woman happens to stop at the same light, pushing a baby in a stroller. Upon stopping, the infant screws up its face and begins complaining. First whimpering, then crying openly. The baby’s mother pushes the stoller back and forth and makes shushing sounds in an attempt to calm it. T’onga stares down at the child, flicking up her shades. Their eyes meet, momentarily, before the soft face scrunches up and resumes crying again.

“Hey…” T’onga says, addressing the young mother.

“Huh?”

“Could you shut your kid up? It’s getting on my nerves.”

The mother stares at her, open-mouthed, and T’onga keeps her withering gaze level, until the stoplight turns green. Without a moment to lose, she starts crossing the street, leaving the mother shocked and offended. By the time she comes back to her senses, the light has turned red again.

“Until Dust makes his move, it’s important not to draw any attention to ourselves,” All-Kill explains in her memory, “The preacher man’s already 99% sure of our hostile intent, but that remaining 1% of doubt is all that’s keeping him from cracking down on us right now. Changing our behavior in any way will seal that 1% , so until I give the word, no action is to be taken. Until then, it’s business as usual.”

“Business as usual,” she says aloud to no-one in particular. A gaggle of businessmen, executive producers perhaps, pass by her, boiling alive in suits and ties. They don’t seem to hear her. A pair of teenage girls come after them, enjoying their youth during summer vacation, with their expensive handbags and skimpy clothes. They all would be horrified to learn what ‘business as usual’ means to T’onga. Anyone would be, were they to meet someone on their way to commit a murder.

She walks for another 45 minutes and reaches her target: a somewhat dilapidated bungalow in Lincoln Heights. She eyes it from across the street. After checking no-one is looking, she approaches. The sun begins to dip low in the sky as she creeps around the side passage, keeping low to avoid being spotted. She hears low voices coming from inside, and lays her hand flat against the peeling white paint.

“HOUSE OF PAIN…” she whispers.

The small, hairy creature emerges from her and latches onto the wall. It scurries confusedly about for a moment, like a verminous animal, then returns to her.

“No good, huh? Must be a window open, or something…” She moves, keeping low as ever, to the backyard. She mutters under her breath the whole while. “Oh yeah, HOUSE OF PAIN, ‘sure-kill Stand’, the ‘ultimate assassination weapon.” Ultimate pain in my ass is more like it. What good is a superpower if it only works on closed spaces?”

The backyard is overgrown and vacant of any occupants. Satisfied, she inspects the back wall, and discovers the cause of her difficulty. A shattered window with jagged shards of glass poking out from the pane.

“Of course I can’t just close it over. No, that’d be much too easy. Fucking typical-”

The sound of footsteps approach and she rolls out of sight. A young man, Latino and wearing baggy clothes storms out of the back door and looks left to right. Seeing nothing, he retreats sheepishly inside. T’onga presses her ear to the wall, listening for their conversation.

“...nyone out there…?” a deep, man’s voice asks.

“... nah, don’t think so… yo, hermano, I don’t know ‘bout this…” replies his companion, higher-pitched.

“... fuck you mean, you don’t know? You don’t want out no more…?”

“... Course I want out, but shit, can’t we just, you know, be cool ‘bout it?”

“... You know damn well we can’t! We ain’t ever gonna get another chance like this, esé! With Phantasma gone, we can finally start runnin’ things again. Once they find out we’re moving our own product again, they’ll ice us like we ain’t even shit. I’m sick o’ working for those cabrónes. I told you, my boy in Sacramento can hook us up, then we’ll be running things…”

“... I got it, man, I got it, aight? I mean this. The money, man. If they gonna fuck us up just for tryin’ to leave, the fuck they gonna do after we rob ‘em?...”

T’onga listens, until the sound of creaking floorboards under footsteps signify their moving away. She moves then as well, slipping off her fur coat and folding it into a ball under her arm.

Terror, disguised as anger, tinges the voices of the men inside, which she still could hear as she peeked through the shattered window. This was a phenomenon she is quite familiar with, having observed it in dozens, perhaps hundreds of people. To her, all people are the same: animals essentially afraid of dying.

This terror motivates every choice they make. The desire for wealth and social status. The urge to produce offspring. The dream of stardom that draws so many to Los Angeles, all motivated by the singular wish to never die, but to go on living, one way or another. To never disappear.

She stuffs her folded up coat into the shattered window, closing the gap. Abruptly, a locket of polished pewter slips out of one of the inside pockets, getting caught by its loop and dangling in front of her. She shudders upon seeing it. Not with fear, but surprise. As if she had forgotten it was in there.

“... You were scared, too, weren’t you?” she whispers aloud, addressing the polished locket swinging from the dark fabric. “Of course you were… Ditching the boss, running across the ocean to start your own crew. You must have been terrified… so then, why? Why did you do it at all?”

The locket doesn’t answer. It never has, in the few times she has asked this very same question. The one she asks whenever she remembers Japan, the seaside town, and him. That foolish, inconsiderate man. The father of her child, Yeoh Gangak.

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #achtung attitude #t'onga kim #ch34

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k-renne · 6 years ago

Text

I’M ON FIRE

SUMMARY: You worked at the same restaurant as Pale did, and though you had heard a lot from him he was not someone that you had met properly and for good reason. Something about Pale was dangerous, but the question is whether you can stay away

WARNING: SM*T, lots of cursing

TAGS: @thecurlycaptain, @babbushka, @adamsnackdriver, @dreamboatdriver

You knew from the moment you saw him that you were in trouble, the manager at the restaurant you waitressed at who burned at a 110 degrees at all time, better known as Pale. You made the unfortunate mistake of locking eyes with him while he was yelling at someone at the phone, and he paused his call just to make a remark, “What are you staring at honey get back to fuckin’ work! This ain’t no chain restaurant ya gotta job to do.”

“Sorry!” You squeaked out, very intimidated by the man who was currently staring you down. His eyes raked your form shamelessly, and he had more words for you that he wanted to say but he was putting out one hell of a fucking fire.

All your coworkers warned you not to get in his way, but you had no idea just what you had coming.

Later when you were putting on your jacket to leave your shift, Pale finds you. “C’mere, I just wanna talk to you.” He pulls you aside.

“Okay,” You say softly, looking down.

“Hey what are ya looking at the fuckin’ ground for, my eyes are up here. I said we’re just gonna talk don’t fuckin’ get your panties in a twist. I ain’t gonna fire you. I gotta know who’s workin’ here, you gotta know me. You need anything you fucking call me alright?”

“Alright, but I really don’t have much time. I need to make the last bus back.” You looked up at him and met his fiery gaze, resisting the urge to look right back down. At least you weren’t getting fired, that was a relief. Yet being so close to this man made you feel dangerous.

“Don’t even fuckin’ worry about it, I gotta a car. Ya need I ride, I’ll drive you but I’m not fucking done here. Now let’s go outside, feel like I’m in a fuckin’ oven,” Pale pulled at his shirt, trying to air it out.

He lit up a cigarette as you followed him to the alleyway, leaning up against the brick of the restaurant. “What the fuck I told ‘em to take out the garbage earlier, lobster will fuckin’ stink up the whole place. Now I gotta be the fuckin’ garbage man too. You mind sitting in my car honey, I can’t fuckin’ stand it over here.”

“Yeah, yeah I don’t like it either,” You wrinkled your nose.

Pale’s car smelled like cigarettes, alcohol, and cologne. But it was pretty clean otherwise and your ass was thankful to be sitting down. “So what’s your name, how long have you been here. Swear I know every fucking one in this goddamn place but I ain’t never seen you here before. I would’ve fuckin’ remembered a girl like you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, a girl like me?” You questioned.

“Oh you want me to fuckin’ spell it out? With that piece of ass? Sweetheart, I don’t know how you couldn’t be fuckin’ aware of this, if you got a man I’d bet he’d get in a lot of fuckin’ fights with you lookin’ like that.”

“Looking like what? Maybe I do want you to spell it out.” You challenged him, which you knew was a bad idea. You knew what he meant, but you couldn’t help but let the words slip out. Talking with him was exciting, addicting, you could see the muscled under his silk shirt and you were tempted. You had a pretty good idea of what a man like Pale could do to you. And with those hands of his? He had to have a huge dick, no doubt about it.

“Oh so you have a smart fuckin’ mouth on ya now? Where was that when you couldn’t even fuckin’ look at me earlier. Geez, you really are somethin’, got me all fucking riled up now and I still don’t know your fuckin’ name huh. I should fuckin’ know your name or else I’m gonna have to find some way else to get your attention and I got a feelin’ ya won’t like it honey.”

You decide to toy with him a little more, because you wanted to hear what he really thought about you, “I’ll give you my name, but I wanna know just what you think I look like,” You crossed your arms.

“Oh there you fuckin’ go now-look at that you’re just makin’ it fucking worse, presenting your tits like a fucking slut. Fuckin’ hell, makin’ me fuckin’ feel on fire. You know what I fucking think? I see a slut who needs to get fucked real good, and honey I don’t like being fucking teased.” Pale raised his voice, leaning in towards you.

You sucked in a breath, “My name is Y/N.” You held your tongue from apologizing again, because he had shut you right up with that. You couldn’t help but feel aroused with his words, something about him just made you feel a certain way and you just knew he was a man who could take care of things.

Pale grinned at you, “Y/N, I like the fuckin’ sound of that.” And he leaned in for a brief kiss. “You really got me riled up you know that? I’m fucking hard as a rock over here, you wanna do this I’ll take you to your place and we’ll have a little fun. But don’t fuckin’ lie to me I don’t want ya to do somethin’ you don’t want. I can drop you off and fucking say nothin’ about it no more.”

“You can come over Pale, I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable,” You placed your hand on his thigh.

Pale hissed, “Well that ain’t fuckin’ helpin’, just let me drive to your place or else I’ll fuck you right there in the alleyway next to the stinkin’ fishes, let everyone in the restaurant hear your slutty fuckin’ moans.”

You draw your hand back at that, maybe another time in a place that wasn’t right near your place of work. But this time you didn’t have the same courage to be so shameless.

Pale however, will touch you in any way he wants during the drive even if he doesn’t give you the same courtesy. Already he’s taking control of the situation, his hand heavy on your thigh before he starts sliding it up your skirt. You were sure that if you weren’t wearing stockings he’d finger you.

“Fuck I can feel how wet your cunt is, fucking slut I bet you were just waiting for me to fuck ya, huh?” Pale rubs you over your panties at the red light, resting his hand against your inner thigh when the light turns green.

“Mmm, yes Pale,” You say breathily, trying to grind your hips and get more friction.

“Oh you fuckin’ were, well maybe I’ll give your slutty cunt what it wants but it’s on my fuckin’ terms alright?”

“Okay” You nodded, it was an easy decision. You liked a man who could take control.

“Jesus fuck-when’s the last time you’ve been fucked honey? I can see your fuckin’ nipples through that fuckin’ blouse of yours, that bra don’t do shit.”

“It’s uh, been a good few months,” You flushed.

“Hmph, I’ll show you a really fuckin’ good time then,” Pale said confidently.

You couldn’t help but gaze at his crotch, “You’re really big,” Your eyes widened. Just like you hoped, you could tell and you were right.

“Yeah? You’re fuckin’ right, bet that gets your slutty pussy wet ain’t it.” Pale rubbed you again over your tights and you moaned. “That’s fuckin’ right you moan for me, perfect fuckin’ sound right there, not fuckin’ fake like a porno. Only a real slut can fuckin’ moan like that.”

“Is this it? What a real shit hole, at least there’s a fuckin’ place to park.” Pale commented when you got to your place.

He was all but dragging you up to your apartment, breathing down your neck as you fumbled with your keys. “Give them to me I’ll do it,” Pale grabs your keys from you, easily turning them in one smooth motion. He chucked them on your counter, shaking his head at how small your place was as he hung up his jacket. You turned on a light and his attention was back on you in an instant.

He pulled you into his arms and kissed you, hand sliding down to grab a handful of your ass. “Where’s your fucking bed, I ain’t wastin’ time here,” Pale asked.

You pointed and he picked you up over his shoulder, “This is unnecessary!” You protested.

“You’re too fuckin’ slow, I’ll show you what’s fuckin’ necessary when I stuff your slutty cunt.”

Once Pale had you on the bed, just fucking laying right there like a present for him, he knew he wasn’t gonna be able to take his time. Not this time at least. He settled on top of you, kissing your lips, kissing your neck, savoring the feeling of your soft skin. He was really good kisser too, but right now you wanted a lot more than just kissing.

“Please Pale-I can’t wait.”

“That fuckin’ desperate for my cock huh? Maybe I wanna see those tits first, bras can be so fuckin’ misleadin’ these days.” Pale talked as he unbuttoned your blouse, his dick fucking hard as ever when he saw the lace against your skin. But it had to come off, and this time he was not disappointed. “Fuck look at these tits, just askin’ for a squeeze.” It was the first fuckin’ thing he noticed about you, and his dick sure was happy for him to have his hands on ‘em.

Pale kissed between your tits, groping them and sucking at your skin. He tugged a hard nipple between his teeth before lathing it over with his hot mouth. His skin was so hot against yours it felt like he had some sort of fever. So hot you were unzipping your skirt and trying to get it off.

“You’re really tryin’ to get me to be rough on ya takin’ off your clothes like that, I got news for you honey I’m always gonna be fuckin’ rough and your slutty cunt is gonna like it. Can’t hold back-fuck, it’s been too fuckin’ long.”

Pale helped you peel your tights of your legs, sliding his hand against your skin on the way down. He fuckin’ loved a good pair of legs, underrated part of a woman if you asked him. He wanted to feel those thighs spread wide underneath him, just ready to get fucked. “Look at this fuckin’ thing it barely covers your pussy, fuckin’ soaked by now,” He pulled down your thong, you know fully naked before him.

“It’s too fuckin’ hot, I’m takin’ this suit off so it doesn’t get fuckin’ ruined. It’s already fuckin’ ruined but I don’t wanna ruin it no more.”

“You still looked nice.” He was down to his wife beater now, and with the way it hugged his chest you couldn’t wait to see what was underneath. His cock was straining through his pants, looking obscene once he was down to his briefs - you could see the tip making a gap between the waistband, just waiting to be free.

“I appreciate the sentiment but it doesn’t fuckin’ matter, have to get the thing dry cleaned anyways. I fuckin’ hate the cleaners, bunch of assholes over there shrinkin’ ya clothes.”

It made you smile, you sat up in bed and beckoned him over. Kissing him open mouthed as you ran a hand up his bare chest, Pale laying you back against the sheets as he took you in his arms-prying your legs apart under him. You glanced down at his cock, it was so big you knew what he meant when he talked about stuffing you.

Pale’s thick fingers slid into your entrance, “Look it how fuckin’ wet you are huh, such a fuckin’ slut gettin’ your juices all over my fingers. Tell me you want my cock, I wanna fuckin’ hear it from your slutty lips.”

“I-I want your cock Pale,” You looked up at him, strands of his hair starting to fall over his eyes.

He pressed his cock against your entrance, “Jesus you’re fuckin’ tight.” His cock pressed up against your walls and filled any empty space that was left, stretching you to your limit.

“And you’re fucking huge, oh-” You moaned as he began to move, rubbing inside you just right.

“That’s it fuckin’ relax for me, take the whole fuckin’ thing. I know your slutty cunt can do it, ah fuck-” He grunts as he’s fully seated inside you, right up to his balls. He gives a few slow thrusts, relishes in the sounds you make, before pursuing the pace he know will make him cum.

Your hands are all over him, on his chest, the muscles of his back, his arms and his stomach. “Fuck honey you’re all over me, couldn’t fuckin’ resist this huh, bet it wasn’t even the first time ya were starin’ at me. Now look at you, takin’ my cock like a fuckin’ slut, can’t even shut up with your slutty sounds.”

Pale began to pant as it went on, but he had a lot more stamina than you were used to, and it felt like you could cum just like this. But you were completely caught off guard when Pale switched positions, he had your thighs up and all of the sudden he was reaching about an inch deeper, the tip of his cock rubbing against you in a way that had you seeing stars. “Yeah that’s fuckin’ right, ya can’t say nothin’ like this, I know you’re fuckin’ just lovin’ this. You ain’t never been fucked like this before have ya?”

“Ah mm-no, no Pale,” You barely managed to reply.

“Understand one fuckin’ thing honey, if you’re gonna be a slut you’re fuckin’ my slut. I don’t share with fuckin’ nobody.” Pale talked as he fucked into you, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room.

“Mm-yes, I’m your fuckin’ slut,” You whined.

Pale was quiet for a moment as your cunt clenched around him, just enjoying the feeling of it. He dropped his head against your shoulder, kissed your skin a few times while his hands continued to hold your thighs. “You’re fuckin’ close aren’t you, I want your slutty cunt to cum right on my cock, just like this as I’m fuckin’ you nice and good.”

You could feel your pleasure building and Pale’s words along with all the friction had you on the edge, “Ah-fuck, Pale I’m gonna cum.”

“Right fuckin’ now, cum on my cock sweetheart,” Pale encouraged you. And you came just like he asked, he had a few more minutes in him, a few more words for you before he came. “You did real fuckin’ good you know that? But I’m not done with you, not by a fuckin’ mile.” He rolled on his side to look at you, enjoying how well fucked you were.

Maybe Pale wasn’t done with you, but at least tonight would have to wait. You were passed out a few minutes later while he was talking. “Fuck don’t fall asleep on me, you’re already fuckin’ asleep aren’t you? Gonna have to work on your stamina that’s for fuckin’ sure, no fuckin’ way can this just happen once. Haven’t felt something this good in a long fuckin’ time.”

Pale finally stopped talking once his breath slowed, he decided to close his eyes for just a few minutes but he knocked out right next to you, his arm slung over your waist and his nose pressed against your shoulder, dreaming about the hot shower he was gonna take tomorrow.

#pale x reader #burn this #yeah i just wanted to write some messy stuff with pale #i have a few more ideas with him that i might do after this #but today i decided to finally take the time to write #oops my roommate thought I was working on an assignment

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