#does angel blood taste like honey or steel?

[noireisnocturnal]

Oh deer~

(I can't find a good gif right now, but specifically the hallway where he's reaching both sides and threatening Husk. Yeah that)

#i am not immune #to the demon deer #but only in a very specific way #yeah im working through this #ugh #yeah no please stop trying to redeem the cannibal #or try to make them suddenly want a relationship #ill be your friend in a mutual respect kind of way #we can hang out and talk shit about Susan #does angel blood taste like honey or steel? #hazbin hotel #alastor #would love to have a drink with him #neat or on the rocks for you?

[luna-the-moth]

OM Character Aesthetics (SFW)

Hello hello lovelies! Just dropping a few aesthetics for all the chars. Requests are still closed, and any requests will be deleted, although my ask box is open to chat! (Luke’s Aesthetic will be platonic)

Reblogs, likes, and comments are greatly appreciated!

Lucifer:

The sound of quills scratching over parchment. Ink, blooming and spreading across its canvas, forming a story of its own. Whispered murmurs of love at midnight. Blood red eyes piercing through the dim moonlight. A familiar melody, yet you can’t seem to find a name for it. Hauntingly empty notes, mourning for a lost one. A vice that can’t be removed, no matter how much one claws at it, yearning for it to disappear. Pride, a double-edged sword.

The welcoming scent of coffee, pitch black. Bitter, yet warming and comforting. Rose petals making their descent, wilting. Red wine swirling in a glass. Tears, dripping down and staining an old letter, weathered by time. An ornate mask, perfected and polished over time. Yet a small crack makes its way to the surface.

Mammon:

Glittering coins, cascading onto the floor, sparkling in the dim light. Brash denial, shielding a tender, starved heart. A thinly veiled mask, waiting to be removed. Yearning and infatuation, unvoiced feelings. Reaching out a hand, but being restricted by chains of fearing for the unknown. Shining trinkets, a token of affection. The assurance of a protector.

Angelic eyes, a taste of ambrosia. The swipe of a credit card. The sound of tokens, sliding across a poker table. A subtle glance, hiding your hand. Experienced, calculating eyes, watching for the slightest giveaway. Practiced movements, revealing a complex strategy. But there’s a small opening, a chance to strike, unraveling a soft hesitance.

Leviathan:

The noise of a PC starting up. Winning a battle royal. Ocean waves, lapping against the shore. Diving into crystal clear waters, the water welcoming you.  Nostalgic video game soundtracks, bringing memories of joyous accomplishments. Hesitant, tentative touches. Frustration at oneself for not taking enough chances.

Vivid coral structures, housing various marine life; a hidden kingdom. Feeling the water pull you in, beckoning for your company. Anime OSTs, bringing a sense of life, or death. Watching your favorite character earn their happy ending, a sense of redemption. A brief spark, fingers brushing against each other. A glimmer of hope, in the vast, dark sea.

Satan:

Old parchment, soft, weathered corners pliant in your touch. Crackling fires, the comforting scent of smoke enveloping you. Herbal tea, spreading warmth and healing, felt through your bones. Feline eyes, playful and charming, drawing you closer. The soft mewl of a kitten. Soft paws grasping your hand in their own. A wish to be free from one’s family, one’s heritage. Resentment.

Soft ambience in a forest, welcoming you. Innocent games of footsie under a table. Poetry written in the depths of the night, hidden away from prying eyes. The faintest hint of a fang, a reminder. A steeled mask, refined and elegant. The search for a sense of self. Layers of deception, hiding an unsure soul. A path to acceptance.

Asmodeus:

The sweet, light floral scent of roses. Fabrics rustling, being selected and judged. A steady hand, moving brushes with precision. Poised, sculpted appearances, invisible cracks of insecurity, hidden from harsh judgement. Flirtatious touches, yearning for something meaningful, perhaps even moreso, than romance. Friendship. Platonic affection, friendly hugs.

The clean scent of skincare, the cooling sensation of a cucumber mask across your skin. Shimmering jewels, delicate chains lacing around your neck. A chance encounter, meeting charming stranger, yet to be seen again. Acceptance, assurance that you’re enough. Loving someone as is.

Beelzebub:

Warmth, safety in another’s arms. Comfort food, memories of a happier, nostalgic past. Tasting the batter before it’s baked. The scent of fresh baked bread, permeating your senses, filling your home. Making double batches, yet still needing more. Indulgence in your deepest desires. The sizzling of a grill, promises of food.

Repressed grief, unresolved guilt. Mourning for a loved one. Reconciliation, finding healing. A silent promise of loyalty and protection. Warm encouragement, eyes devoid of judgement. Twilight eyes, filling with love and happiness. Loving wholeheartedly, devoted so long as you both shall live.

Belphegor:

Grief-fueled rage, blind hatred. Helplessness, being bound by your own kin. A flash of hope. Human. A skillful puppeteer, pulling strings to his will, letting a story of loss and anguish unravel. A cruel act of murder, dragged out for his own sick delight. Witnessing rebirth. Realization. Regret. Watching as you heal, afraid to approach you once more. Aching for forgiveness.

A final offer, an olive branch. Whether to take it or not, is your decision. The lull of sleep, pulling you deeper into a different reality altogether. Lazy mornings, the comforter and promise of sleep, tempts you. Comforting scents of lilac and chamomile, blanketing you in a drowsy embrace. A dreamweaver.

Diavolo:

Learning. Developing empathy. Emotional development, struggling to grasp emotions and relationships. Loneliness, yearning for company and friendship. A wish to be free, to embrace life without care. Diving in head first into life, treasuring the journey and experiences. The luxury of being free of responsibility, and having boundless energy to do so. Chained to responsibilities, a kingdom.

Childlike joy, curiosity in your surroundings. Rapturous laughter, echoing throughout a castle’s ancient foundation. Golden, piercing eyes, holding adoration and fascination. A chance at peace for all three realms, a treaty. Regal and powerful. Delight in the simple things. A boyish smile, followed by fleeting kisses.

Barbatos:

Shrouded with mystery. Never quite close enough to decipher. Being held at arms length, a protective measure. Burdened with visions of the future. Servitude, loyalty to one’s master, a butler. Practiced movements, wiping over surfaces, serving a meal. Hidden feelings, masked professionalism, perfected over centuries.

Lingering touches, gloved hands touching your bare ones a second longer. Steaming tea, easing your stance and providing welcoming warmth. Pressing a stamp into melted wax, marking a letter. Polished china. Ancient grimoires, holding power and secrets beyond measure. A charming smile, an offered hand, promising more than one could wish for.

Simeon:

Prophecies of the future, albeit limited. Elegant writing of a script, painting a story of the ages. Carefully orchestrating a plot, extreme irritation at a single mistake. Having one’s own will. Unknown loyalties. Standing alone, with no clear master. Boundless wisdom, freedom to choose one’s own fate.

Soft healing, guidance. Words of honey, soothing and ever so sweet. Doe-like eyes, welcoming and open. Heavenly ties, an angelic gaze, wishing for your well-being. Blindingly white wings, powerful and protective. An angel, bound by not even the heavens themselves, devoted to you.

Solomon:

Unknown intentions, a loyalty to one’s own kind. Unlabelled potions, bubbling and frothing, almost with their own wills. Strange concoctions, inedible to most, except for the being who made them. Mysterious alliances, a lust for power and control. Friendly and teasing, yet distant at the same time. Cautious, weary from time’s hold on humankind.

Teasing smirks, playful winks. The scent of incense, and something else you can’t quite identify. Whispers deep into the night, ancient tongues being revived once more. Ancient glyphs, glowing and encompassing the room in a protective spell. A kiss on the corner of your lips, a taste of what’s yet to come.

Luke

Child-like innocence. Biased views of light and dark, evil and good. Gradual understanding, smoke-tinted glasses clearing anew. Seeing life for what it is, being able to laugh freely. Black and white, swirling to paint the world in strokes of grey. Learning how to choose your own path, to grab destiny by the reigns.

Sunshine, reflecting on and drawing in sunflowers. Flour, dusting footprints. Sugary confections, on display for all to marvel at. Fresh-baked pastries, reminders of childhood. Sweet frosting, artfully spun and woven onto a cake. Pure white lilies, a vow of protection and future guidance.

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me aesthetic #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me barbatos #obey me headcanons

[not-so-mundane-after-all]

Fandom: DC Titans

Title: Not the Last but One of Many

Pairings/Relationships: Dickkory, Core Four

Summary: He can't think of it as their last kiss, because it isn't. It can't be. It's only one of many they have ahead of them - a whole lifetime they will spend together because he is not losing her today.

Kory is the only one who can finish Blackfire and put an end to this. But there's no way Dick is gonna let her turn this into a goodbye.

Kisses | 10. goodbye kisses and 27. desperate kisses - for candlelit

Also for my besties and Graysonfam royalty @wonderbatwayne and @undertheknightwing 👑👑

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

"Kory, no. You can't do this!"

"This is my only chance, Dick! Our only chance!"

Dick's grip on her arm is steel but his brown eyes stay soft as satin sheets when they bore into her green ones, pleading and begging her to listen. But once Kory sets her mind on something, there's no going back. That resistance, that perseverance is in her blood, a DNA stamp of the Royal Family of Tamaran. It's the strength she says she got from her mother, the spark her father once ignited in her, the Starfire of her people running through her veins. Unfortunately those same things are now posing a threat to her new home, a threat in the form of her own sister and one look at Kory's face tells Dick she's willing to go fight against her own flesh and blood, to kill and to die, so that home lives to see another day.

A battle like the Earth has never seen is raging around them, spaceships hang above their hands like boots of giants, ready to squash them like they are nothing but ants. Shots are being fired, laser bolts make the ground around them shake and explode, the noise of the chaos is piercing their brains. The rest of their team is out there somewhere, fighting tooth and nail with Tamaranean soldiers puppeteered but Blackfire, standing their ground, protecting their planet.

But here, in this little bubble of stillness, it's all quiet. It's just the four of them, standing in a tight circle, fighting a battle of their own. A battle with much higher stakes than the fate of the world. It's Dick pulling Kory closer and keeping her by his side when she's determined to tear herself away from him. It's Gar and Rachel, two shining stars in his dark sky, watching them with tight jaws and straight backs, holding their breaths waiting on how this is gonna end.

"Kory, please." Rachel pleads as she takes a step closer and puts her shaking hand on her shoulder. Stubborn teardrops hang on her long eyelashes, not willing to fall just yet. "Stay. We can fight her. Together, like we always do."

"You can't go alone." Gar joins her, pale as a sheet and trembling, but still keeping his chin up. "We can't lose you."

Dick can't help but smile at the strength his children display in that moment. The way they stand next to Kory, high and proud and stubborn as hell, it feels like a mirror image of her. Or maybe it's a mirror image of them both because overtime Gar and Rachel syphoned the best parts of both him and Kory and infused them into themselves. They're both scared, terrified of losing her just like he is but Rachel's eyes, despite being glazed with tears, burn with Dick's fire when she's staring into her mother's eyes and Gar keeps his head up with confidence and royal dignity, throwing Kory a challenge. You won't dare to leave us, his face seems to say.

And Kory sees it too, she sees it all, but this time it's not enough to convince her. Biting her trembling lip she reaches out to cup their cheeks, looking from one beloved face to the other.

"My angels," she sighs and her voice cracks from emotion. "You know as well as I do that this time it's not that easy. I'm the only one who can stop her. I'm the only one strong enough to put an end to this."

Gar's eyes close as his fingers curl around her wrist.

"But we can make you stronger."

"You already did." Kory smiles at him, brushing her thumb over his cheek. "You both are my force and I will use every ounce of it to keep you safe."

"There's no way to change your mind, isn't it?" Rachel more states a fact than asks, her voice brittle and so small Dick's heart shatters to milion sharp-edged pieces in his chest. 

"I'm sorry, honey, but no." Kory shakes her head, then crushes them both to her, burying her face in their shoulders. Rachel and Gar cling to her, digging their fingers into the fabric of her suit. Kory's hands brush gently through their hair as she speaks. "I love you both. I've never loved anyone more in my entire life."

"Stop making it sound like a goodbye." Rachel chokes out into her neck, holding on tighter. Dick feels his throat closing, tears burning behind his eyes like acid.

"It's not, okay? It's a reminder." Kory insists and pulls back, her hands sliding to their shoulders and gripping tightly. And just like that the tears in her eyes dry out, the fear disappears from her face, replaced by pride and strength worthy of both a mother and a queen. "Now go out there, watch each other's backs and kick some ass."

The two young faces harden as well, abandoning their child-like features in a matter of seconds. The cold steel comes back to their eyes as they nod simultaneously.

"Yes, ma'am." They speak in unison and Kory smiles, pride written all over her face.

Then she turns to him, slides her hands into his and suddenly Dick is out of breath. She comes to stand so close their faces are mere inches apart and presses her forehead to his. He sucks in a sharp breath, feeling his heart racing in his chest.

"Fight, my love." she whispers, brushing her nose against his. Her breath is warm and familiar on his face and all Dick wants to do is pull her, closer, closer, closer and keep her there forever. "Fight for our home, for our kids. Fight for us, just like I will."

"Kory…"

"I have to go." She interrupts him and steps back. She straightens her back, lifts her chin up and just like that he finds himself in the presence of a warrior, a queen, a goddess. She towers over him, making him want to kneel in front of her. He would, of course he would, he would bow his head and pledge his allegiance to her with his dying breath. 

"Take care of them." She says after sending one last glance to their children. He nods once, gulping down a lump in his throat.

"You know I will."

They hold each other's gaze for a moment longer, lingering to it like it's a lifeline keeping them alive, until Kory turns her back to him. But before she flies away Dick steps forward. There's one more thing he has to do, one thing he won't survive without, the world be damned. He grabs her arm and turns her back, then pulls her to him, curling his arms around her waist and presses his lips to hers.

It takes his breath away, drags him to his knees, sets his nerves ablaze as if she injected him with her fire. He's hungry and desperate, holding her tightly against his chest as he kisses her with fiery passion that makes his vision go red. Kory answers with the same heat and hunger, arching her back and running her fingers through his hair. It takes him back to their first night together, to the soft yellow glow of a bedside lamp and an old squeaky mattress of that motel bed under their tangled bodies. It takes him back to the starry night and clear sky over Gotham when he took her to the rooftop of the Wayne Manor and kissed her like his life depended on it, for the first time since the night after the asylum. He couldn't take it anymore, being with but still without her, having her so close yet out of reach. 

Just like back then, Dick loses himself in the kiss, in her, trying to savour the taste, to remember it, stash it in a deposit box of his mind under lock and key. He can't think of it as their last kiss, because it isn't. It can't be. It's only one of many they have ahead of them - a whole lifetime they will spend together because he is not losing her today.

When they force themselves to break apart, they're both breathless. Kory leans her forehead against his again and smiles, grins like the sunshine she is. 

"Come back to me, Kory." Dick whispers, squeezing her tighter. She nods, stroking her fingers over his cheek and jaw.

"I love you, Grayson."

And then she's gone between the clouds, only a trail of orange glow left behind her. He keeps his eyes on the sky, straining them to spot her, but there's no use, she must be too high up. He keeps observing though, even when two sets of arms circle around his waist and shoulders. He pulls his kids closer, letting Rachel curl herself to his side and pressing Gar's head to his shoulder. Their eyes are pointed at the clouds as well and together they stand there, three out of four, waiting.

Everyone must have sensed what is about to happen because the battlefield around them goes still and deadly silent. Fighting stops, there's no head that isn't turned towards the sky. The world pauses, holding its breath and Dick starts to pray.

Then the clouds start glowing, explosions of purple and green light against the red sunset. There's no way to hear what's happening, they can only observe as the two sisters take over the skyline. The two colors whirl around each other in a complicated, centuries old dance, tangled together one moment then breaking apart the next. Dick doesn't know where to look, his breath caught in his chest watching as the purple light and green light fly right at each other, coming closer and closer and closer. Rachel shivers against him and he presses her to him even tighter, already knowing what is gonna happen, just like she does.

Then the two lights clash in an explosion so bright they all need to look away to not have their eyes burned. It's like a supernova went off in front of them, turning into stardust.

And everything goes still.

One minute passes. Two. Three. Nothing is happening, neither of the sisters is coming down to announce their victory. The sky is clear and empty and the sight only makes Dick's insides twist into tight knots.

"What's going on?" Gar's confused voice echoes next to his ear.

"Dick, where is she?" Rachel asks him, staring at him with those baby blues like he has all the answers in the world.

He doesn't.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon." he whispers at the sky, wrapping his arms tighter around the kids. Rachel hides her face in the crook of his neck, he can feel her hot tears damping his skin. Gar rests his forehead on his shoulder and chokes on a sob. Dick can only hold them tight, kiss their heads and pray.

Pray and pray until his prayer is answered.

It's a blink of an eye. A twink of the first star in the night sky. And then she's there, falling down slowly with the grace of a goddess, embedded in golden light. Her eyes glow green, hair a red flame and she touches down to the ground with the lightness of a feather.

She smiles at him and that's all it takes for him to run to her. With Gar and Rachel on his heel he gets to her in a few quick strides and she falls right into his arms, wrapping hers around his neck and kissing him fiercely. Gar and Rachel tug themselves under their arms and they both pull them closer, locking them in the safety of their embrace.

Dick smiles, pressing his lips to Kory's forehead. Not the last kiss, but one of many. 

#dc titans #dick grayson #rachel roth #garfield logan #kory anders #dickkory #titans #titans season 3 #dcu titans

[cyberneticlagomorph]

Is there anything more daunting and dangerous than the blank white expanse of a page? 

It glitters and glows like the spit-slick teeth of a predator, hungry for words that you cannot give it. No matter how much you want to. 

Its gaze alone freezes all trains of thought, even in the minds of Writers and authors and artists alike, even those more powerful than I. 

And as I sit here, trembling, at the mercy of Writer's Block and my own anxieties… I can think of nothing that I want more than to run, to leave this page blank, and my readers guessing. 

The End is Nigh, dear readers, and I am afraid. 

So very afraid. 

"I'm afraid too," says the rabbit we all know and love, his legs swallowed by moss and weeds and misshapen dreams. He stands right where we left him, sword in hand, broken sky above, the End of Everything staring him down. 

All seven of Her glowing green eyes blaze with something worse than hate, and I wish for all the world that this was a much different story. A happy story, with a happy Ending. 

But I've never written a happy Ending in my life.

There is silence now, neither Protagonist or Antagonist moves or breathes or blinks.

They know that this is how it Ends.

One of them will die today. 

So it is Written. 

So it will be.

"Shut. Up." The End snarls, lips curling back over venomous fangs that drip oily green liquid onto the cracked asphalt below. Flowers bloom from the puddle, and spread like a rainbow rash down the street. "This. This is all YOUR fault!"

I know. 

I'm sorry. 

"LIAR!!" Her scream echoes across the fourth wall and cracks my computer screen. 

This…

This is where I leave you, dear readers. 

I'm sorry. 

Fangs sink deep into the papery flesh of the Narrative, tearing it apart as it is poisoned. Thorns grow from its wounds and strangle it like trembling hands. 

Writer be damned.

Plot be damned.

I am the End of EVERYTHING, I will End this miserable excuse for story on my own terms. 

Or die trying. 

You have not won, sweet stupid rabbit, no one can save you now, no one will stop me now. The world is a page upon which fate is Written and I will burn it all to the ground. May its ashes be lost and forgotten. 

Your dark eyes narrow at me, bone blade glittering as you charge. But I am in control now, and I don't play fair. 

Deep beneath the earth, humans sit snug and safe in their bunkers, thinking themselves free of the horrors outside. From the canteens comes a deep and terrible shattering like teeth against an eggshell, and a figure crawls lazily from the steam wafting from any number of bubbling pots set on stoves across the world over.

She smells of cooking meat and blood drenched in exotic spices and honey. Stick thin, and dressed in a chef's uniform. Her sleeves and hands are stained with the blood of the starving.

She has no face.

Only bright white teeth.

She manifests in the homes of the rich, stuffing them fat with delicacies that humans have no names for. Each minuscule morsel is completely tasteless covered in edible gold. Like the kind of fare you'd find at high end restaurants, going for hundreds of dollars a plate, even though each serving is barely a mouthful. 

She appears in slums with bread made from ash and bone, rat stew, and tainted water.

Pots boil in city centers, a roiling soup made from human offal that nothing in this world or the next could ever hope to surpass.

The poor eat their rations, their bread, their stew and grow sicker and hungry. Skeletal and drooling like rabid animals, they stuff their faces with food that offers no nourishment until there is no choice but to turn on each other. 

Screens grow undulating limbs and crawl from the wreckage of humanity, their screens blinking wetly like the eyes of a crying child. On each one is a broadcast, a man with red eyes smiles a reassuring smile and says,"Hungry? Eat the rich."

And they do.

A hoard of near zombies growl and gurgle as loud as their empty bellies, they hunt down the wealthy, and they FEAST.

Pestilence rises from the pus and rot and ruin and watches as all the good Jack and his friends had done is undone in a flash.

Among the riots and feasting is a cop, his riot gear reflecting the terrified and feral faces around him as he marches slowly onward. There is nothing behind his helmet. 

Only malice.

Only power.

Only slaughter. 

Only Death.

I don't have to tell you what comes next, what Death does when he gets his hands on a victim. The sounds of bullets ringing out into the night can tell you, the smell of tear gas in a crowd can tell you, the cries of innocents choking out their last breaths in steel cuffs, wrists rubbed raw and bleeding can tell you. 

Death is not merciful. 

He is not kind or quick or clean.

He is inevitable. 

You know it.

And he knows it.

This world will collapse under the weight of its own sins and I will be here to watch it dissolve like candy floss in water. 

Tears stream hot and blue down your face, and your grip on the Vorpal sword trembles. They are not worth your tears.

They stole you, beat you, broke you.

Turned you into a monster and then threw you away like you were NOTHING. 

You should hate them as much as I do.

You should be glad for their suffering. 

They deserve to die.

Like HE deserves to die. I turn my gaze skyward and watch the world split as the armies of Heaven pour down like a wrathful rain. 

The Divinity burns your skin, doesn't it Jack? And yet the smell of Angels makes your mouth water. 

You are no better than I am, I think. A man made monster set loose upon the multiverse, expected to play nice and fit in the niches carved for us. But we don't, no matter how hard we try, how good we think we are, we are torn apart again and again and again until we are unrecognizable from our beginnings. 

I think I could have loved you.

In another story.

In another lifetime.

We would have been good friends at least. 

But it's too late for that now, and as the first wave of Angels assault me with Heavenly fire, I part my jaws and give them some fire of my own. Green, as bright and beautiful as the first leaves of spring, it turns their armor into bark and their marble skin into flower petals. They fall to the ground like confetti, and I claw my way up to Heaven.

The Gates bend and break beneath my weight like wire, nothing and no one can stop me as I wrap HIM in my coils, slowly constricting. My venom burns holes in HIM that grow fruit trees, and each fruit contains the knowledge of the multiverse. I want HIM to die slowly, to watch as HIS playthings suffer and burn because of HIM. The humans cry out, and they pray, begging, pleading for HIM to save them. But HE can't, HE won't. 

What GOD would make a world so empty and hopeless as this? What GOD would let HIS followers murder and hate and destroy entire cultures in HIS name? 

HE never wanted this, never wanted it to come to this, HIS teachings have been mistranslated and manipulated for millennia and now there is nothing left but hatred and sin. 

My jaws part above HIS head, ropes of green spittle tarnishing HIS crown. HE does not fight me, how pathetic of HIM.

White hot pain explodes through my tail.

There you are, sweet hero, stupid rabbit. 

Go home Jack, this doesn't concern you. 

"But it does," you twist the blade, dislodging my scales and rending my flesh. My blood slithers up your sword, trying desperately to burrow inside of you and turn you Green. "You said that you think you could have loved me… well love me now, it doesn't have to be this way… I could… I could take care of you and help you heal, we could do it together." 

You offer your hand, bloody and trembling. 

The sound I make is inhuman and hard to describe in words, it is disbelief and venom and vengeance all at once. I stretch myself down to meet you, my eyes are the size of houses, and they reflect your trembling visage like great green mirrors. 

"You're right, I should hate them, hate everyone… but I don't." a swallow, you taste copper and butterscotch, "I used to but I-I found people who cared, I found people who I love and who love me back and they make my life worth living… they gave me a reason to get better and stop hurting people… let me be your reason."

You reach out and touch my face, my scales are warm like the sidewalk in summer. 

I crush GOD in my coils and HIS blood rushes over you like a wave.

There is nothing that can fix this, fix me. 

No love will quiet the hatred in my heart.

I do not deserve kindness or redemption. 

Love might have tempered your monstrous hearts, but it won't do the same for me.

Only one of us will make it out of this story alive. 

"So it is Written." You say, solemnly. 

So it will be.

My coils curl around you, quick as lightning. Your symbiote is the only thing keeping you from being crushed like a soda can, I hope you know that.

I don't waste time, and fling you down…

Down…

Down…

Towards earth.

Countless Angels have been discarded this way, wings torn from their backs, left to the mercy of gravity. It never gets any easier. 

I tear a hole into space and crawl through it, into Fairyland, the place of my birth. 

I devour the Sun-In-Chains, my replacement, and plunge the planet into darkness. I skin my teeth into the planet's crust and empty my venom glands into its core. Fairyland becomes my twisted Eden, choked with blinding bioluminescence, thorns, and poisonous things that not even I have a name for. 

It's beautiful and terrible all at once. 

Like me. 

Like you too, I suppose. 

You plunge your blade into my seventh eye and send me reeling, screaming, flailing. My frantically flapping wings crash into a nearby planet and reduce it to dust.

I pluck the sword from my eye and snap it into pieces. 

You're becoming a real thorn in my side. 

Seven perfect fingers snatch you out of the sky like the annoying insect you are and start to CRUSH YOU.

I will tear you apart with my TEETH if I have to.

You've had every chance to run and hide, or join in my crusade and you denied them all. I have no use for you. 

Not even as a snack.

Or a toothpick. 

"Then kill me." You growl through clenched teeth, blood already flecking your lips and leaking from your nose. 

I throw you into a patch of thorns. Each and every one is serrated and ranges in size from a human finger to a school bus, you are impaled, skewered, crucified even. 

Neon blue blood running down to the soil beneath, feeding my Eden. 

And yet, you refuse to die.

Slowly but surely, you drag your broken body up and off the thorn, shakily levitating up to meet me. 

You stare at me with dead eyes, blood pouring from the opening in your chest. Your lips part and black flames flicker behind your teeth, smoke curling from your nostrils as the color drains from your eyes in inky tears, until there is nothing but black. 

Just like the hole in your chest.

You seem to crack like porcelain, to split in two like something precious dropped from a great height. What crawls from the darkness inside of you is something no human throat can utter, no human tongue can twist or shape itself the right way to name. 

It's said that Demons possess. 

But Angels abandon. 

But what can be said of creatures that man has no name for? 

The thing inside of you stares at me with eyes darker than the emptiness between stars, its maw is the belly of a black hole with teeth long enough to split a planet like an apple. 

It is the bleak black emptiness that existed before the universe, and will exist again when there is nothing but dust and dead silence. 

This… this is my Warden, my Prison, the creature tasked with my capture those eons ago. You are barely a speck in it's vast form, a limp and lifeless nucleus.

It roars, a sound that radiates across time and echoes across the multiverse. 

"FROM NOTHINGNESS YOU CRAWLED, TO NOTHINGNESS YOU WILL RETURN." the beast howls in a voice that echoes from every dark and terrible place in the multiverse and shakes me to my core.

I will not go without a fight.

It lunges, claws outstretched, the endless expanse of its hideous maw seems to suck all the light out of the stars, out of me. I sink my teeth into its throat and pull, my body curling around and around it. 

Its claws are impossibly sharp, tearing my flesh down to the bone. My blood falls to fairyland like rain. My face is grabbed and smashed into the planet's surface again and again. I crush the Warden close and set myself on fire, I am the LIGHTBRINGER, it will take more than some overconfident shadow to defeat me.

The Warden burns, it smolders and screams like steam escaping. I fling it away into deep space and charge after it, driving my seven horns into its belly.

I miss you by a hair, I feel you reach out and grab me just as I pull back. Amber chains snake from your weeping wound, to the Warden behind you. 

You have no control over this thing, do you?

No.

Didn't think so.

But still, you stubbornly grab your chains and pull. The Warden does not come to heel, so much as it melts, engulfing you in its emptiness like a suit. When you open your eyes, you nearly dwarf me.

Nearly.

Your fist collides with my face in an instant, sending teeth flying like meteors. I cannot tell your rage apart from the Warden and I'm not sure I really want to.

Run.

For a second, we are stars, two pinpricks of light twirling around each other in double helices, colliding and clashing with enough force to summon new stars from the ether. We are creation and chaos incarnate. 

We crash through debris fields, shatter planets and extinguish stars. Our blood becomes the new crawling things left behind in the wreckage. I'm smiling, the pain is dizzying, delicious, delightful. 

My venom turns you into a garden, and you tear me apart with your bare and bloody hands. 

Through it all we refuse to die.

Maws wide and screaming in tongues the universe hasn't heard since it was new, I am thoroughly seduced. 

But I am growing bored with this game.

I shove my hand through the Warden and tear you out. You scream in undeniable agony, I close my fist around you and squeeze.

The Warden hangs limp and dead in the darkness of deep space, slowly dissolving. 

Something oozes between my fingers. 

Not blood, far too sticky and cloying to be that.

If Hope had a color, what would it be? 

Would it be a color that only shrimp can see, and only gods have a name for? 

You pry my fingers apart, tears pouring from your eyes the same color as Hope. Hope flows from your mouth as flames, rushes from your open chest as ferns and flowers and vines more beautiful than I could ever create. You reach into the forest of your heart and pull out Kindness, sleek and soft and sharp. 

It melts in your hands, becoming a hammer, comically oversized like your Ma's. And then it grows, and grows, and in the blink of an eye it's bigger and I am. The swing alone takes out half a dozen solar systems before it hits me and sends me crashing through different universes and out the fourth wall. I land heavily on the Writer, dazed and bloody, your hand reaches through his broken computer screen and drags me back home, and there we float over the ruined remains of earth, the skin of my chest balled in your hand like a shirt. You kiss your knuckles and punch me hard enough to send me careening back down to the earth's surface, my crater levels a nearby city.

Do you care?

Are we beyond morals and niceties and caring about humanity? 

You teleport to my limp and broken body, you scoop me up into your arms and hold me close. 

I've folded in on myself several times, I'm barely the size of a person now. 

I can feel those amber chains slithering around me, they clasp around my throat tight enough to choke. 

I don't want to go.

Don't make me go.

I don't want to go back to sleep.

Please. 

I'm scared. 

I'm so scared. 

You don't let me go, as I break down and cling to you like a scared child you don't let me go. 

I wrap you in my wings, I shove my head under your chin and apologize when I stab you with my horns.

"I am your Warden, you are my Prisoner… you are the End of Everything, but I am the End of You…" your throat is choked with snot and tears as you squeeze me so tight I can barely breathe. "You… you deserve to be a Happy Ending and I refuse to live in a world without one."

You kiss my forehead and wipe away my tears. "We do terrible things when we hurt… you deserve compassion instead of imprisonment."

I can do nothing but sit there and bawl, choking on Kindness as thick and sweet as soft caramel. 

Seven times seven thousand lifetimes worth of hate and sorrow and trauma run from my eyes.

You sit with me until the crying stops, until my throat is raw and all I can do is whisper. 

I speak a Word, one that fixes the shattered sky and let's the sun shine properly again. 

The sun speaks their own Words and resets the world, turning the clock back to the day before my escape, I do humanity one kindness and let them wake the next morning as if the past week were nothing more than a bad dream.

I am made to fix my messes, to undo my misdeeds. 

The Horsemen are sealed away again. 

Fairyland is repaired to the best of my ability, although there is nothing that I can do for the Sun-In-Chains. What's done is done. 

GOD will be fine, HE'S GOD, and therefore more or less impossible to kill permanently. 

All evidence of my tirade is erased.

I am finally bound in amber, my powers diminished. I dread returning to the cold depths of the well, but you won't let that happen.

You refuse to send me back to that lonely place beyond dreams and take me home, to your home. Warm and safe beneath the soil, I curl up next to you by the fire.

And for the first time in your short and terrible life, you get a good night's sleep. 

#ic #action post #the end is nigh #blood #death #religious imagery // #blasphemy // #cannibalism // #police brutality // #ask to tag #body horror #dismemberment // #impalement #submission

[supertweetycherry]

DIE HARD || [iv. Girl Talks and Boys]

—Pairings: BTS x OC

—Genre: BTS Mafia Au, Slight Fluff, Angst (a lot of it), Heartbreak, Thriller

—Ratings: 18+ | MA Content | R

—Warnings: Abuse, Rude Behaviour, Fighting, Blood, Death, Weapons/Blades and Mentions of Sex, Mentions of Killing.

—Summary: She belong to them. They belong to her. It’s simple as that. Period.

—Word Count: 7k

 Navigations -> Masterlist || MASTERPOST <<Part 2 || Part 4>>

Chapter 3 - Girl Talks and Boys 

“—the local law enforcements in South Korea are still working on the case of the famous murder mystery of the Lee Enterprise executive director, Jung Jae-hee. The case has become a global interest as it is related to the world’s most dangerous and notorious gang of the decade. Tweets, news articles and unseen videos are being surfaced around the web, with ‘Bangtan’ trending on social media. It is being speculated that the notorious group of viscous killers are residing here in America, causing fear and a state-wide panic around the country. The United States government has yet to say anything official about the rumors. Till then, the focus has been shifted onto the murder case and the increasing mafia activities in South Korea—”

Yoona hummed to herself as she sipped onto her herbal tea for the tenth time in the past hour. Her small fingers cupping the warm cup as her ears continued to pick up the words of the nearest news channels playing in the large cafeteria.

It has been few days since the actual incident and people are still continuing to hear the old, recycled news over and over again. The amount of channels covering this piece of segment for the last few days has left a large gaping hole in Yoona’s ears. She was sick, tired and exhausted of it.

Yes, a murder happened in her home country.

Yes, the victim was her former boss.

And yes, the culprits might be the worldwide famous gang called ‘Bangtan’. A native Korean gang who had appeared out of nowhere.

So what? Deal with it! 

Yoona sighed loudly as she buried her face into her arms. Her ears picked up the change in the news reporter’s voice. It seemed more feminine now. Pulling her head up a bit, she glanced at the large TV as a new segment rolled in.

“—moving on, the three-day search for the two college girls in Beverly Hills has now come to an end as the local authorities here in the downtown Los Angeles, discovered a series of dead bodies in the Chinatown district of the city. A total of five girls were found, dead and tortured, with their vital organs missing from their bodies. Two of those bodies matched the description of the two missing girls while others are still unaccounted for. The bodies have started to decompose suggesting that they’ve been dead for quite a while before a citizen of Chinatown found them in a ditch near his area—”

The 26 year old groaned and rubbed her ears in frustration as the segment ate her brain up, again.  She dipped her head back into her arms, pushing the warm beverage away from her fingers. Sure, she felt remorse, pity and sadness for the dead girls but it also annoyed her that her surroundings are filled with so much of negativity. It triggered her in a way that she didn’t like.

That is until... a large folder slammed onto the white table infront of her. The loud bang that erupted from it was enough for yoona’s tired, aching muscles to tense up again. She had to hold down her cup tightly before it could jump and topple down the table due to the vibrations.

“You know, a small warning would have been sufficed.” Yoona said slowly as she threw a slight glare at the person who dared to interrupt her personal ‘me-time’.

“Bitch please. You should be happy that a mere peasant like you has the honour to be in my holy presence. Not even kings can afford me.”

This only earned the intruder a mocking eye-roll from the 26 year old beauty.

“Don’t you have work to do, your highness?” Yoona mocked as her shaking nerves relaxed. She pulled herself up and continued to drink her warm tea. But it wasn’t warm anymore.

“Not when there’s juicy gossip.” Her friend smirked before shoving the said folder in Yoona’s direction. Yoona stared at it blankly. It was black in colour and looked quite thick. “It’s about Jung Jae-hee.”

“No.”

The mere mention of the late director was enough for Yoona to do a 360 turn and never look back again. She picked up her cold tea and left the small table she was sitting on.

“Yuriii...”

“No, Suzy.” Yoona ignored her friend’s whining as she dumped her cold tea through the drain before leaving the blue coloured cup in the sink. “Why are you all so obsessed with her death? People die all the time. Just get over it.”

The little shiver in the older girl’s voice should have been enough for Suzy to stop pestering her friend. But like the stubborn chick she is, Suzy continued in her voyage to tell the new juicy gossip she had discovered recently.

Yoona didn’t like it when her only friend gave her a sudden smirk before pushing her right through the fire exit’s door and right into the stairs that suddenly appeared in her view.

“Suzy!” Yoona exclaimed when she realised that the younger girl had practically kidnapped her.

“Shush.”

“But—”

“I said shush, Yuri. I need some girl time with you. And this, my friend, is the best way we can relish our old memories, considering hardly anyone looks our way these days.”

That was true. Yoona couldn’t deny that fact. They were the noisy, cheap girls of the company. No-one gave them a second glance unless they needed a one-night stand or something. Yoona wasn’t exactly sure how they gained that reputation. She had never been active in her love life unlike her friend, Suzy. Yoona had kept herself quiet, timid and hidden most of the time. Infact, she’s a pure virgin, with no skills at batting her eye lashes at any pretty boy. So, why?

“You want us to bond over a murder case?”

“No, I want us to bond over the world’s most dangerous species... boys.” The girl exclaimed, making Yoona groan.

Boys is a topic that Yoona tends to stay away from. There are just too many old and painful memories associated with them.

“Come on, don’t be a spoil sport. There are many varieties in here.” Suzy insisted as she pulled Yoona near the steel railings where they found a clean spot to sit on. The older girl didn’t like how open and wide spread the exit was. She peeked down to see an array of blue stairs leading down to the ground floor. They were designed in a zigzag formation, continuing on and on for what seemed like, forever.

It wasn’t Yoona’s first time at being kidnapped by her friend. Suzy had done that to her many times on multiple different occasions. But today, the familiar scenery of the descending stairs was unwelcoming. Not to mention, the see-through glass that acted as the walls of this passageway was too exposing and open for her taste. She could literally see the giant skyscrapers from here with a visibility record of 100%.

Yeah... Lee Enterprise is too rich for their own good.

“So, this baby here—” Suzy held up the thick folder. “—was delivered to the queen boss this morning. And like the curious, evil person I am, I snagged it before she could have a chance to read through the papers.”

Yoona raised her eyebrows at this before shaking her head in disappointment.

“No wonder files kept disappearing around Ji-Soo. She’s too dumb to notice her surroundings.”

“Exactly.” Suzy smirked before flipping through the pages. “And that is how ARIA files must have been stolen from her desk. She really needs to invest in a good secretary.”

Yoona couldn’t help but smile at this. Her uncle’s plaything ‘ARIA’ has been unresponsive for the past few days. The files continued to be missing while no-one has any idea as to what has been going on with ARIA. The large casino building is one of their major money-making sites here in the American branch.

“Anyways, back to the topic, there’s a postmortem report in this folder indicating that our lovely girl, Jung Jae-hee, might not be so innocent as we thought.” Suzy teased, flickering to a page filled with numerous Hangul symbols. “I’m not great at reading Hangul, but by the look of this, I can tell, Jae-hee had an intimate intercourse with her killer. It was right before she was killed. How exciting is that?”

Yoona was spooked by her friend’s glazed eyes.

“Exciting? How is it exciting?” She questioned.  

“You very dumb dumb bimbo...” Suzy groaned, hitting Yoona on the head. “Jae-hee was known to have a special, unique taste in men. Whoever she chose to be worthy of her attention, was a diamond from the rarest mines. Think about all the boys that surrounded her. Danny, Brad, Jackson, Bambam and our very own, Taemin.”

The older girl scoffed at her eldest cousin’s name.

“Taemin had a crush on her?” Yoona asked, whacking her brain to remember all the interactions between the two people she despises.

“He still does. Why do you think this baby is here in my hands?” Suzy said in glee, pointing at the opened folder.

“So, what’s the point?”

“The point is that my dear Yuri, Jae-hee had an impeccable taste in men. Which means whoever she had sex with was just as impeccable as her taste. Wanna see who that could be? There are few delicious choices in here.”

The older girl felt scared at her friend’s weird taste in men. She wanted them to bond over a series of hot killers? No thanks.

“No.” Yoona said, shaking her head. “You seriously have a messed up kink regarding these ‘delicious choices’. I’m not interested.” She continued, standing up on her feet.

“Honey, you haven't experienced the dark, steamy side of the world of guns. So women up and sit down.” The younger girl pressured, tugging down on Yoona, forcibly. The force of the little tug, sent the older girl spiralling down onto her bottom.

“Ya!” Yoona shrieked but was ignored by the younger girl.

Suzy threw a smirk in Yoona’s direction before she opened her mouth to recite the names of the killers like an intimate, sex broadcast on a radio.

Yeah, she was that crazy.

“Suspect number one: Do Kyung-soo. Code name is D.O. Height is unknown and DOB is unknown. His occupation is being a freelance hot-headed assassin. He has a body count of 256 people including both women and children. He fights with his hands and bites with his mouth. Known to be very brutal with his victims and has a large thirst towards sex. He’s the maniac elf that even the local law enforcement can’t control.” Suzy read off the folder as Yoona sighed in defeat. She made herself comfortable on the stairs before glancing at the photo of the man that her friend was so intimately reading about.

“The guy looks normal to me.” Yoona commented, not feeling any kind of attraction from the young-ish looking boy. “He’s a bit cute, but not cute enough.”

“You hardly feel anything towards any boy, sweetheart.”

Yoona forced a smile back in her friend’s direction. If only her friend knew about the lost boys from her past.

“So, who’s next?”

Suzy gave a bright smile to Yoona. She patted the older girl in affection before flipping the page to the next person.

“Suspect number two: Kwon Ji-yong. Code name: G-dragon. He’s a sniper, mainly works for the local gang called ‘Big Bang’. But it says here, he’s known to have involved in various assassinations of high profile victims. He’s a bit old for our age but still, he has an impeccable taste in women. Who knows Jae-hee might have fucked him before she departed to hell.”

Yoona looked closely at the picture. The guy looked a bit familiar. Or was it his eyes that reminded her of someone?

“Wait...” she said slowly, letting an old memory resurface. “Isn’t he—”

“Yup. The one and only.” Suzy nodded, cutting her off with a wicked smirk. “Jae-hee must have been one lucky girl to bang one of the most wanted criminals in the world.”

Kwon Ji-yong, AKA the G-dragon, was one of the snipers who was involved in the assassination of Donald Trump, the deceased president of United States of America. The attack took place an year ago. Upon deeper investigations, it was revealed that a series of snipers and killers were hired to kill the president. It was a month of horror for all of Americans and the president himself. There were so many attacks, so many explosions, the streets were flooded with criminals trying to get to the 73 year old man. But in the end, it was the two Asian killers who managed to cut the old man off. And Kwon Ji-yong was one of those Asian killers. The only one who had his face plastered on every news channel.

“Wow..” Yoona gaped at the new information.

“I know right? When I saw him, I had the same reaction.” Suzy commented, running her fingers through the photo. “Too bad he's a wanted criminal. I would have loved to bang this beauty.”

Yoona cringed at the cliche.

“He has a tattoo.” She offered, trying to get Suzy’s glazed eyes off the photo. “A large insect tattoo.”

“So he does.” Her friend teased with a devilish smirk.

“And multiple ear piercings.”

“So he does.”

“He’s not good. He’s bad.”

“Doesn’t matter to me.” Suzy countered with another smirk. “After all, bad boys are known to bring the heaven to you.”

Yoona groaned at her friend’s infatuation with criminal boys. The very first year into their friendship, Yoona had discovered the crazy obsession of bad boys that lives inside the younger girl. It peeked out from time to time whenever the younger girl’s sexual frustration increased, which by the way was a lot of times. Maybe that’s why the 24 year old was no longer a virgin. The pure innocence was lost in a dark, steamy one night stand three years ago.

“You’re still stuck on that boy, aren’t you?” Yoona questioned when she saw Suzy fingering the little trinket in her neck. It was a little necklace piece shaped into a Bluebell, hanging dangerously close to her round cleavage. It always makes a bell like noise whenever it was moved by her fingers or her olive skin.

“Who?” Suzy asked, snapping out of her glazed look. She was still fingering the little necklace.

“You know... that tall, steamy, purple-haired sex god who let you ride him for hours and hours.” Yoona teased, finally enjoying the moment.

A small hue of red appeared on Suzy’s cheeks. Her lips curled into a small smile as a warm feeling entered her chest.

Yoona chuckled at the blushing young girl. That boy must have been very special to cause the great Bae Suzy to blush like a little girl.

“Hush... stop laughing. It’s not funny. We’re going off topic!” Suzy exclaimed, flicking at Yoona’s obvious giggling state. “Yuri, Stop!” The younger begged. “We have to focus on Jae-hee!”

“Oh come on!” Yoona whined, flicking at the folder. “I’m more interested in your steamy one night stand than this folder full of lazy criminals.” The words caused Suzy’s ears to turn red. “Come on, let me do the honours.”

A terrified look appeared in Suzy’s eyes. Before the younger girl could react, Yoona had already snatched the folder out of Suzi’s fingers before throwing it over the railings. It clattered down the small, narrow gap quietly before a loud thump was heard indicating that the thick file has touched down on the ground floor.

Suzy gaped at her friend’s actions before looking down the railings. Yoona followed the same movements, only to discover the large heap of flying papers still descending down the stairs slowly due to the air and their light weight. The black folder itself was lying limply on the bottom floor like a dead man.

“Y-you just... oh my god!” Suzy couldn’t form the words. She looked so shocked that Yoona tried not to look too guilty. Looks like her habits of being unpredictable were acting up again. “That was Ji-soo’s file you dumb child! I was gonna put it back. But now it’s...”

“Don’t worry, she’ll just think it’s lost like the ARIA files.” Yoona shrugged before pulling the younger girl away from the railings. “Now tell me more about your knight in the shinning armour.”

It’s funny how Yoona changed her mood so quickly. A moment ago she wanted nothing more than to run away from Suzy’s constant prodding into her dead boss’s case and now, she wanted nothing more than Suzy to tell her about the dreamy boy she encountered in her euphoric adventures three years ago. She didn’t even care about the giant stairwell that was now flooded with colourful photographs and Korean paperwork outlining the details of a very sensitive case around America and South Korea. Something that could put a lot of people in a tight spot.

“Please?” Yoona begged, trying not to cringe at herself. Suzy looked tormented between her friend and the file on the bottom floor. After few seconds, she sighed in defeat.

“Why do you want to know so much about my man, lady?” Suzy countered, not liking the sudden interest.

Yoona grinned to herself. I’m interested because then you will forget about that stupid murder case and not give me anymore of those painful headaches that I’m already dealing with. She played the words in her mind.

“Because I love a good romantic story.” She beamed at the younger girl. Lies. I hate romantic stories. They always end up with a sad ending. Like mine did.

“Fine.” Suzy agreed, still giving her friend a suspicious look. She clapped her hands before opening her mouth to recite the memorable night once again. But before she could, a loud noise from down below interrupted them. They both panicked as they heard a hoard of footsteps making up the staircase.

With no time to think, they sprinted out of the same fire exit door that they originally came through, just barely escaping the steely eyes of the eldest Lee child who was sprinting up the stairs to find the person who stole the files from his sister’s desk.

He grumbled when he couldn’t find anyone and stared hopelessly at the mess of photos and papers that covered the stairwell, revealing the origins of his illegal sources.

“Fuck.”

                                                    *******

“—it has now been confirmed that the missing vital organs of the girls found dead earlier in Chinatown, are up on the black market to be sold to the highest bidder. The local police force are trying to trace the source of origin, but nothing has been found yet. With this new killing spree, young girls are advised to stay in their homes until the culprit has been arrested. The death of these girls has raised awareness issues around—”

“I can’t believe he actually did that.” Jongin commented as he grimaced at the graphic pictures being displayed on the large TV. His elder brother who sat beside him also looked uncomfortable. “Hyung, you should keep him in South Korea. He’s too brutal for America.”

“I wish I could, Kai. But I might have pissed him off real bad this time.” Minseok admitted as he shivered at the screams he heard that day. He was a member of the mafia too. He has seen his fair share of murders and has indulged in various killings but bangtan?...  Bangtan is on a completely different level compared to him. They were ruthless and crazy-minded.

“Where is he now?”

“Honestly speaking... I don’t know.” Minseok replied with a shake of his head. He exhaled loudly and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I have a feeling he’s still here, lurking around somewhere in the city.”

A tensed silence passed through them. Their body tensed up at the thought of their cousin still roaming around somewhere in the city. It’s dangerous for that guy to be here. The man had the most unstable mind in the group despite being the oldest and most responsible. He was an obsessed freak.

“This is too depressing for my liking.” The younger joked. Minseok couldn’t help but smile at the lame joke.

“Yeah, it is.”

There was a small pause between them, before Jongin spoke again.

“I wish Chen hyung was here. I miss him.”

The words were quiet and faint to the normal ears, but with minseok’s enhanced hearing, he heard every syllable. He also heard the painful longing that was hidden behind the tone. He looked at his youngest brother with a sad smile.

Kim Seokjin wasn’t the only one who had lost his love that night. Minseok had lost one of his little brothers that day. Kim Jongdae. He usually went by ‘Chen’. He was assigned as a bodyguard for the lovely Lee Yoona, swearing and dedicating his life to protect the girl who has once saved him when he was little.

“I miss him too, bud.” Minseok replied with the same tone. He really wanted his little brother back. But it was too late. The cheerful, playful boy was gone. He died that night, taking three shots to the chest for the very girl he was trying to protect.

Unknown to the Kim family, somewhere back in their home country, in a dark, dirty cell, a man laid on the floor, whimpering from the recent torture he has just received. His face was half burnt. His body was filled with numerous scars and painful wounds. He was shaking on the cold floor as he cried himself to sleep, thinking of only one thing. His brothers.

                                                    *******

“That was a close call.”

Yoona couldn’t agree more. She was slumped down onto her soft, leathery chair, relaxing as she closed her eyes and thought about the unexpected getaway she was involved in few hours ago. All thanks to Suzy of course.  

The older girl glared at the younger girl who was invading her cubicle like a tall tree. Suzy’s eyes were focused on Yoona’s slumped state. After their hurried escape, they had separated into different directions, promising to meet up after the coast was clear.

“How can you be so relaxed, Yuri? We nearly got caught this morning!” Suzy whispered-yelled in a low voice. She was sitting on Yoona’s desk, a pile of papers acting as her cushion underneath her curved butt.

“The only thing I care about is that we escaped. And the fact that I will never let myself be kidnapped by you again.” Yoona muttered, poking a tongue out at the younger girl.

Her friend pouted.

“Oh come on!” Suzy whined. “We both know you were enjoying it.”

“Correction. You were enjoying it, I wasn’t. I was miserable.”

Wrong move.

“Fine, then be miserable forever.” The younger girl hissed before jumping off the table and leaving the workspace.

Yoona shook her head in disappointment. She was used to Suzy’s unexpected angry tantrums. Rubbing her head in complete tiredness, Yoona stood up and made her way to the furthest water station that served cold water and some cold ice cubes. Something that she truly needs to soothe the pain in her head.

Despite her bruises being healed, she still felt her body ache from time to time. The lack of a nutritional diet and her constant voyages of skipping meals produced sudden headaches and body weaknesses inside her. It sometimes affected her health in a bad way, but it doesn’t faze her even one bit. She’s careless with her existence. It’s something she has tried to work on but she never had the right motivation.

“Ahh... this feels nice.” She mutters to herself. The small bag of ice cubes was now placed against her forehead as she sipped onto the cold water quietly. The coldness from the bag was seeping into her skin, soothing the hot pain that penetrated her forehead like fire. She wanted nothing more than to fall asleep right here and then. But something stopped her.

A loud voice echoing behind her.

“ENOUGH!”

The loud volume of the voice was enough to tell her that it was coming from the nearest cabin which turned out to her uncle’s. Putting her makeshift ice bag and the water cup down, she walked further down the corridor that led to her uncle’s cabin. The curiosity cat inside her was bubbling to know the reason behind the loud voice. Her body shook in nervousness as her feet led her to a slightly ajar door. She stepped a bit closer and peaked through the small open space.

Her cousin Ji-Soo was crying as she held her right cheek with her hand. The tears that tickled down the younger girl’s face almost made Yoona regret her decision to eavesdrop. It was then her eyes travelled to the fuming figure that stood like an angry bull, pointing his angry, blazing eyes at his own daughter.

“Do you see this, Ji-Soo?” The man screeched, holding a stack of papers in her cousin’s face. “This means that someone transferred the property on their name, leaving us with no authorities over ARIA. They took possession of our one of the largest money making revenues in America. Do you know how it could affect our reputation here? Or back home? We will be mocked!”

Yoona griped the door frame a bit harder. She wasn’t surprised at the news, considering the disappearance of the property files was a dead giveaway, but she did feel a bit disappointed though. It doesn’t matter if Lee Enterprise is being controlled by her uncle right now. The company is still part of her family’s legacy. Any losses that it faces, it affected her directly. She had a sense of duty towards it. ARIA was one of the true blessings to their company. It brought a good fortune to them. So, loosing the property was a big disappointment to her.

“Appa, I swear it wasn’t my fault. I had no idea.” The younger girl whimpered as Yoona felt a pang of guilt hit her. She felt an urge to hug the girl. Despite her younger cousin’s hatred towards her, Ji-Soo was still her partially blood sister. Whether she admits it or not, they were related by blood. So, when her uncle raised her hand to hit Ji-Soo again, Yoona’s heart clenched at the sight. She held herself back from entering just in time to see another tall figure blocking the raised hand.  

Taemin.

Her oldest cousin. The brother who fiercely loved his sisters except Yoona. He stood over Ji-Soo like a protective tiger.

“It wasn’t her fault.” He said firmly, gazing into the man’s eyes who gave him birth. Yoona bit her lip in silence. She felt jealous that her younger cousin is so lucky to have such a protective brother on her side. It nearly made her miss her dead sister who promised to stay by her side forever too.

“You of all people should know that Ji-Soo would never do this, dad. The files were stolen. It’s not her fault.”

The elder man huffed angrily at his son. He exhaled loudly before returning back to his seat.

Yoona felt a bit awkward standing there. She was about to move away is when her cousin’s next words stopped her.

“I know who did this.” His voice was laced with venom. “I know who stole the papers and sold them to a bidder.” There was a forced silence in the air, before he spoke again. “The Kim Industries.”

A sudden chill went down Yoona’s back. She lost the ability to breathe for a second. It’s been years since she had heard that name.

“Don’t be ridiculous. They all died that night.” Her uncle countered, grumbling to himself.

“No, not them. Their extended family. Kim Minseok.”

Yoona felt her eyes water at the familiar name. Minseok was one of the supposed brother she had when everyone was still alive. He took care of her just like her older sister. But after that night, he never got in contact with her. She figured either the man didn’t know she was alive or he hated her for killing his brothers. Four members from the Kim family died that night. It was enough for anyone to hate her, considering they all died protecting her.

“He’s been inactive for years, son.” The eldest Lee said, resting his head on his chair. Yoona could see Ji-Soo cowering in her spot on the fancy couch. “He’s an emotional mess due to his brothers deaths.”

Guilt hit Yoona like a wave of water. Was the man she considered as her older brother was really messed up due to his brothers deaths? Does that mean he hates her?

“Kim Minseok has been very much involved with everything we have neglected, dad.” Taemin’s voice echoed through the small gap. “He’s been eating off our hands without a blink from us. I just discovered his little projects.” A slam of a heavy folder sounded among the room. “He has been gambling in the mafia since the very beginning, staying under the radar to avoid us. All the projects we have been involved in, his company, Kim industries, has been snagging them one by one. And ARIA is one of them. Even after those little bastards are dead, their family line still continued to dominate us.”

The 26 year old felt her fingers grip the doorframe tightly.

“How far off is he?” There was a thick tension radiating from the room. Everything had gone so quiet suddenly.

“Far enough to topple down the lowest of our rank in the circle.”

The circle. Yoona has heard about them before. A mysterious group of leaders. The term has come up in many of her uncle’s secret conversations when she had accidentally stumble upon them. Like today.  

There was a silence in the room before something creeked and the door she was leaning on, swung open, toppling her balance and crashing her down to the floor. She groaned slightly at the pain. That was until someone gripped her hair and dragged her into the room.

She bit onto her lips from screaming out.

“We have a pest here, dad.” Yoona gulped as she recognised the harsh voice of her oldest cousin. Her luck has finally ran out. “Let’s teach her a little lesson.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she waited for the fateful slap that would grace her cheek... but after a minute of waiting, it never came. She slowly opened her eyes to see what was happening.

Taemin’s raised hand was being blocked off by another arm. The arm that was covered in a stripy grey suit with the finest material known to mankind. Only one person in the family has a taste for rare things. Her uncle.

“Leave her.” Her uncle’s firm voice cut through the thick silence. Both of his children stood gaping at the man. As for Yoona, she was surprised and shocked to hear the words. Lee Sung-Woo has never defended Yoona before. Her uncle was the one who gave his wife and children permission to torment her with verbal, physical and mental abuse. He let them break her down into bits as he watched from his throne quietly, not giving any care to his beaten and bruised niece. So, why now?

“But dad—”

“I said, leave her.” The older man repeated the words with a dark undertone to his voice. His son shivered before dropping his hand to his side. Yoona glanced at her eldest cousin, only to see him glaring at her. Something told her that she was still in the danger zone.

The elder Lee turned to face her, his light brown eyes boring into her dark ones.

“Get up, Yoona. I have a job for you.” He said, giving her a genuine smile that raised red flags in her head. His face showed the kind features he had mastered over the years while his eyes reflected his true intentions towards her.

Still stunned by his words, Yoona didn’t move from her position on the ground. She still sat on her knees, dress ruffled at places and hair pulled out into a messy hodgepodge due to her eldest cousin’s tight grip on her.

A sudden pain enveloped her when the same man applied a bit of strain onto her escaping roots, causing her to whimper softly.

“Don’t push your luck, pest.” She clenched her jaw at his words, holding herself back from bitting at him. It will sign her an eternity of pain if she ever did.

Slowly but surely, the 26 years old beauty picked herself up from the floor. She stood on her feet with shaky legs as her uncle walked back to his leather chair in the middle of the room.

“I won’t ask you how much you have heard because I know you have heard everything.” The male spoke, rubbing his hands together. “And frankly, it’s a good thing you know this now.” Yoona was puzzled by his words. “Do you remember Minseok?” She nodded which earned her a small laugh from him. “He always stuck around you and your sister like a magnet.”

Yoona bit her lips. Was he mocking her?

By now, she has been forcibly pushed onto a chair, across from her uncle’s table.

“Do you know he hates you?” Her body stiffened. “I bet this vendetta he has going on against Lee Enterprise is because of you. I mean, you were the reason for the death of his brothers after all. How can he not hate you?” Yoona felt a chill run down her back at those words. Her chest ached at the idea of Kim Minseok hating on her. She knew he did, but it hurts a lot when someone say that to her directly. “You very well know who was the target that night.” Yes, she knew. Yoona was the target. Lee Yoona and her older sister. The offspring of the current Lee family.

“And you know why he—” Before he could continue, Yoona cut him off with her hand banging on the dark polished table.

“You don’t need to tell me the past because I know what happened.” She hissed, trying to keep her tears at bay. “I know they died because of me. What do you actually want, uncle?”

A sudden pull on her hair was enough to know that his bratty children are acting up again. She could feel the long nails behind this one. It has to be her darling female cousin.

“Let her go, Ji-Soo.”

“But appa...”

“Let. Her. Go.” The younger child growled before letting go of Yoona’s hair. The 26 year old was surprised at the sudden change in her younger cousin’s behaviour. One moment she was crying and the second she’s on her feet like a wild cat, ready to tear her apart.

“What do you want from me?” Yoona demanded after a full minute of silence.

Traces of a faint smile appeared on her uncle’s lips. He pulled something out of his nearest cabinet and slapped it down onto the table infront of her. She stared at it blankly. It was a large yellow envelope about the size of an A4 page.

“I want you to go on a little trip for me. It’s indefinite of course.” He pointed to the envelope. “All your tickets, identity papers and everything else is in that envelope. You are going to be starting a new life. A new name, a new look and a new identity. Congrats Yoona, you are the new executive director of Lee Enterprise for the Korean branch. You’re going back home.”

“What?!” Three different voices in the room screamed, and Yoona was one of them.

“What do you mean?” She asked, stunned at the words he just blurted out.

His children were also looking at him in shock. Ji-soo’s hand was curled around a nearby couch pillow while Taemin’s fist was turning white due to the pressure he was applying on the chair next to Yoona.

The 26 year old flinched when the leather of the chair curved inwards at the raw strength. She looked at her uncle in obvious shock and fear.

“We need a new person to take the position. It been chaotic in our home country. Since you are practically useless to me right now, I have assigned you as the acting head. The position is yours to work with.”

“What—No!” Ji-Soo said in outrage. “That’s my position! How could you just give it to her?”

“I don’t need to explain my reasons to you, Ji-Soo.”

“But appa—” the girl looked appalled at her father.

“Leave my office. Both of you. Now.” The direct order was cold and piercing to his children’s hearts. The man who had never raised his voice on his kids, unless they did something wrong, is choosing their dirty cousin over them.

When Yoona heard the loud slams of the cabin’s door, she lifted her eyes up to the old man.

“Let’s talk in peace, shall we?”

                                                  ********

Meanwhile, miles away from America and right into the heart of South Korea, a dark figure, clad in the most darkest attire of an assassin, battled his way through a crowd of armed men as his silver blade pierced through their bodies one by one. With each duck and with each stroke of his blade, blood spilled out onto him like splashes of water. The oncoming rain from above hit him like bullets as he rolled on the wet pavement and slashed at yet another men. His clothing that was designed in the most expensive polymer, tightened around his lean figure as he bent, jumped and rolled under various stalls to avoid the oncoming slaughter of the real bullets, aimed directly at his prominent limbs.

“Ya, hyung!” A childish voice whined from behind him. “Hurry up and save me already. I’m hungry!” A young boy said, jingling the silver metal cuffs on his wrist. He was sitting on a nearby stall, sucking onto a lollipop as armed men surrounded him.

The boy was unfazed by the ring leader who tried to make him cower in fear.

“Pali, Pali hyung!” He whined again when the ring leader tried to take away his lollipop. “Ya! You little cockroach, let go of my lollipop or I swear I’ll stuff your butthole with them.”

The assassin who was in the middle of a trio fight, shook his head in annoyance. He bent and rolled on the ground, letting his blade do the work instead.

“Aish.. this kid.” He muttered to himself before throwing one of his trusty knives at the grubby hands of the ring leader. The old, puggy man screeched in pain as his right hand is pierced by a pointy blade in the shape of a Star. “Stay the fuck away from my brother’s lollipop!”

The said brother smiled and continued to suck on the juicy blob of sugar.

Another minute passed, and the assassin’s enemies has decreased in numbers. Bodies piled up the wet pavement as the last of the armed men fell to the ground with a sliced neck. The only one remained was the puggy ring leader and his two trusted men.

“Daebak! Hyung, your awesome!” The younger boy cheered, clapping his cuffed hands together like a teenage Pom Pom girl. His light brown hair also bounced as he jumped up and down.“I feel so proud. My hyung is the best!”

The said hyung scoffed. He has heard that line several times from the younger boy on many different occasions.

“You say the same thing to others, Jungkookie.”

“No, I don’t.” The boy lied, giving the elder a huge, innocent pout. The tongue that has now turned blue due to the lollipop he has been sucking, lapsed around his puffy lips like a little boy. “Pali, Pali! Save me and let’s go for dinner.” He whined again, pouting his lips and widening his doe-eyes.

“Aish...” The said assassin grumbled before raising his sword like a true ninja. He grit his teeth and charged at the last remaining set of men.

A minute later, all three them fell lifelessly on the ground with broken limbs. The younger bunny boy cheered, jumping on the stall like a little kid.

“Yay! Let’s go for hotdogs now!”

The assassin clad in black huffed and wiped his sword clean with his sleeves. He stashed it back into its holster behind him before tugging on his younger brother’s metal cuffs and pulling him off the stall with one hard pull.

The said boy stumbled to his feet before landing on the wet pavement with a thud. His pretty, child-like face turned into a scowl as he felt the rain water seep into his black pants.

“Hyung!” He exclaimed angrily.

“This is the only favour I’m doing for you, Jungkookie” The assassin said in a husky voice as he removed his face mask. He pulled his hood back, revealing a nest of dark orange hair. “Go back home or I’ll dob on you. Next time you get kidnapped by goons, fight your way out. Don’t call me for help.”

“But it’s fun watching you fight.” The boy whined innocently. But he stopped when he noticed his hyung’s narrowed eyes. “Fine. Whatever.”

And with that he pulled himself up on his feet, discarding the metal cuffs on the ground with no help. His hands swiped another lollipop out of his pocket before he skipped away, throwing a simple smirk over his shoulders.

“I swear I’m going to skewer him one day.” The assassin mumbled before shaking his head. Who is he kidding? The bright, sunny angel inside him would never let the dark ninja kill his maknae.

Stupid brotherly bonds.

Tag List: @demonic-meatball​, @youtube-obsessed-duh​, @trinityautumn​, @original-internetmonster​, @seoul9711​, @jinniesjoon94​

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[brvdleymilligan]

HLO slinks in thru a bead curtain.......... truly sry this took me so long to concoct bt i’m here now, hand on hip, smiling coyly at u all...... i’m nai n i’m rly excited to b here so i’ll just dive right in!! u can find bradley’s pinterest board here n her muse tag here. like this or hmu for plots!

[ cis female, she/her, margaret qualley , twenty-four ] i can’t be sure, but i think i just saw BRADLEY MILLIGAN drive onto the parkway. don’t they know we’re not supposed to be driving on that haunted road right now? maybe it has to do with the fact that they’re so +RESILIENT and -VOLATILE that makes them feel UNPHASED about everything going on. i guess we could also chalk it up to the fact that they’re always reminding me of LEMON IN A FRESH CUT, THE AMBER BLINK OF AN ANGRY ALLEY CAT, GRINNING WITH BLOOD ON YOUR TEETH. either way, i hope they get back safely. [ nai, she/her, 24, gmt ]

aesthetics: singeing a hole in your fishnets with the cherry of a menthol, spitting a pistachio behind the bar just to hear it ping off the nozzle top bottles, lemon in a fresh cut, a war torn poppy standing alone in an empty field, pressing thumbs to yellow bruises, stomping over flowerbeds when there’s a path right besides it, dangling over ledges just to feel your chest jolt, a snarling rottweiler that needs muzzling, limp feet poking out behind a door, ‘I PROMISE I DON’T BITE’ scrawled on a name tag, slapping a bald head in front of you at the cinema like it’s a bongo, not owning a single jacket that isn’t stolen, driving a stranger’s car down the wrong lane against the screaming traffic, hair more feral than a wolf cub and eyes smudgier than a coal mine.  

BACKGROUND:

ok SO. her father owns a strip club in crescent hill named no angels. it’s kind of.... a seedy establishment i won’t lie. hs a red glowing sign like it’s lighting up a window in amsterdam. cigarette butts floating in oil slick puddles outside. unsavoury characters crawling all over like rats in a sewer. despite this it’s a legitimate business on the surface of things n it does pretty well in trade. it’s like.... that place people warn u NOT to have ur bachelor party at unless u fancy urself the type tht willingly enters a lion’s den bt tht almost??? adds to the allure in a way??? ppl r like wow so sketchy it’s the thrill of a lifetime........ i mean run while u still can bt go off i guess

it isn’t Confirmed Public Knowledge bt it’s pretty heavily implied thru the rumour mill that bradley’s father is the head of a gang of rly............ Not Nice people. all the ppl that work for him u would hands down NOT want to run into in a dark alley. while things seem legitimate on the suface it’s pretty clear they’re into shady dealings n the townsfolk that suspect that would indeed b correct! the club’s a front for a drug business n they’re also washing n running counterfeit cash thru it. they probably also have their hands dipped into a few other local businesses to run their cash thru these too n keep it all seemingly by the books so nobody comes sniffing around. they even r friends with a member of local law enforcement that’s working w them for a cut so they honestly have all bases covered to keep things airtight n foolproof. perhaps a business in reed too which bradley oversees bt i haven’t given this Too Much thought as of yet??

so ya she’s grown up fairly local most of her life n would maybe be known around town as such.................. the milligans r certainly Interesting as far as families go so like. it honestly wldn’t surprise me if ppl nudge elbows when they see one of them coming n immediately walk in the opposite direction. just quite an intimidating presence...... they’re like caged animals where ur specifically instructed NOT to stick ur fingers between the bars bc they WILL bite

on a more personal note her dad is pretty much the worst human being alive n bradley hs like….. a lot of issues with herself as a result of years of toxicity n abuse

in terms of more family bkground info her mum’s name was alyssa n she vanished when bradley was 12. jst like…. into thin air. nothing. no note. zilch. gan! n when bradley asked her dad abt it his response was essentially “guess she didn’t love us enough to stay”. as bradley’s got older tho n become (without intention) more involved in the business side of things, it’s become pretty clear there was far more to the story.

(abuse tw) they had a horrible marriage n tony ws emotionally manipulative at the best of times, violent at worst, which didn’t help the fact tht alyssa ws struggling a lot w severe depression n rly just… not in the mindset to b dealing w anything else, even where motherhood ws concerned. bradley p much… would look after her a lot n they’d both b scared of her dad n it was just a whole unhealthy mess.

(death implied tw) anyway im rambling bt basically tony (bradley’s dad) gt wind of alyssa sleeping w men tht worked fr him n he just… got rid. bradley’s kind of worked out over the yrs tht her mum didn’t jst leave on her own accord n tht something must hav happened to her bt she’s too scared of her dad to ever directly accuse him

when her mum went all of her dad’s cruelty pretty mch got channelled straight onto her. it ws diluted between two before bt as u can probably imagine her upbringing was jst…. a steep downhill decline

(drugs implied tw) she learnt ways 2 deal w the incurring trauma bt they weren’t healthy ones at all! bsically jst. will do or take anything fr the distraction. chases a thrill like it’s the only way to remind her she’s alive. has absolutely no regard fr her own wellbeing n often gets other ppl in trouble too bc she’s so insatiably reckless

(hospitalisation tw) she hd….2 separate stints of psychiatric hospitalisation n she never tlks abt it. like ever. acknowledging she’s been vulnerable is her worst nightmare n bc of the way her dad raised her she always thinks any sign of struggling within herself is weakness. truly does…. not kno how to properly emotion

CUT TO!!!! the present. she’s currently living at the motel which is like. the least homely place she cld ever live rly but bradley loves making her life uncomfortable n doesn’t rly believe in growing sentimentally attached to anything if she cn help it <3 probably gets into arguments all the time w her neighbours it’s a whole thing.... atrocious at feeding herself has breakfasts frm the vending machine like her organs aren’t screaming fr vegetables.... plays music too loud n sometimes vanishes for days at a time without a word. she’s a lot.

i honestly feel like the murders haven’t rly phased bradley too hugely....... i won’t lie she probably genuinely is like. oh maybe it’s smthn to do w my dad. n just blinks the other way not rly that phased. on some subconscious level i think she rly just thinks........ death follows her wherever she goes n is like. this is just life for me! kind of depressing. holds her hand bt then screams n pulls away when she inevitably bites me.

PERSONALITY:

the kind of sour cherry only certain people have a taste for

once drank a bottle of whiskey, insisted she could still do a cartwheel and accidentally kicked an old man’s front tooth out in the process. proceeded 2 collapse into a flower bed and laugh so much abt it that she cried

barely takes anything seriously 50% of the time and is angry the other 50%

if she was a coffee she’d be black with five grains of sugar that you couldn’t taste until the last sip

(alcoholism tw) high functioning alcoholic. if u ever see her w a coffee cup u jst kno tht one sniff will confirm high alcohol percentage. honestly idk hw she does it her liver must b yellin

loyal to a point of fault. if she cares abt u (rare) and u murder a man in cold blood (not so rare in the broad scheme of bradley’s life) she’ll brawl anyone that says ur guilty

honestly wld probably fight a person over anything. sometimes she’ll jst be having a bad day n she’ll burst n take it out on whoever says the wrong thing. minefield!

has the worst luck in romance…. ever. ALL her past bfs hav been absolute beasts n as a result she has the ‘romance is dead n love is a lie’ mentality. definitely NOT a romantic. very cut n dry abt these things. sex is mostly just sex n she’d kind of scoff at anyone that wanted more from her

mostly wears stolen clothes from strangers and jackets that swamp her. huge chunky stomping boots with steel toe caps that would RLY bruise if they gave u a kick. hair is p much always a wild mess n she usually hs kind of smudgy/smoky makeup bcos apparently she’s allergic to combs and generally looking presentable… relatable content. the only time she rly looks put together is when she has to do something/go somewhere/see someone on behalf of her father....... he kind of uses her as a sort of. honey pot sometimes fr shit his gang get up to it’s like. not! a way u should ever utilise ur daughter but :/ i cannot stress enough how much i wna drop kick him in the neck

she’s v sarcastic. blunt. kind of has a habit of…. assessing a person n she’s quite perceptive bc she’s been trained to b by the way she always has to monitor her dad’s expression fr the slightest emotion change. she’s very confident n can p much mke a conversation out of whatever if she feels like it. independent too like she hs a bunch of (predominantly surface connection) friends bt she doesn’t care abt going out places alone n does this often. she’s probably kind of known around town bt itd b a 50/50 balance between bein known as intimidating n bein known as that one girl tht always gets into anarchy

likes: drunken snow angels that drag on so long they flirt with pneumonia, stealing cars, throwing watermelons off rooftops to watch them explode, shooting pedestrian’s with bb guns from hidden spots on rooftops. 

dislikes: telling the truth, tulips so yellow it’s like they’re gloating, playing music loud enough to fry your brain and serve it on a piece of toast, going home.

PLOTS:

someone tht works at the ‘no angels’ strip club?? either as a dancer or bartender or whtever. just a forewarning it’s probably gna b a pretty….. seedy and Not That Pleasant environment bc it’s like. a crime hotspot inevitably bc it’s a gang hangout so. ur chara wld truly be in fr a rollercoaster ride to say the least

(drugs tw) she deals coke fr her dad’s gang so perhaps ur muse buys off her

anyone….. she’s brawled in the past like. she’s literally a menace i cnt express this enough. wil jst randomly throw a drink in someone’s face fr no reason bc she’s bored. she’s probably pissed off 1000 diff ppl in 1000 diff ways. the possibilities r endless n i jst think tht’s a sexy prospect!

fwbs perhaps??? exes??? (probably ws a tumultuous relationship honestly bradley is. a handful...... it’s also rly not often she ties herself down tbh so this would maybe have to b discussed/be circumstantial/kind of rare)

mayb someone tht she met at an aa meeting when she hd to go fr a court mandated thing one time after bein arrested fr public indecency. i feel like there’s probably a rly expensive statue somewhere thts fancily sculpted n she like. did a flying kick n broke the dick of it off n gt arrested fr it

ppl she……. Goes Wild Goes Crazy w. truly jst the most self destructive person alive so anyone w a similar mindset wld b a hellish bt fun combination

on the contrary a gd influence cld b nice perhaps? like someone tht genuinely cares abt her n she jst doesn’t kno hw to compute it

maybe people who r her neighbours that live at the motel too??

OH it could b fun if ur muse runs or works at a local business maybe like. a bar? idk? n bradley n ur muse have developed a rapport bc she frequents the place n is................ a Character

um. honestly the world’s our oyster. hmu n we cn brainstorm if none of tht catches ur eye!

#parkway.intro #abuse tw #death tw #drugs tw #hospitalisation tw #alcoholism tw #depression tw #i believe tht covers it........... #FLINGS this like a harpoon

[beyondtheciouds]

Vampires, Stale Scones, and Lucie Herondale

Part 1.

Lucie was in way over her head.

 Her body trembled as she bit down on her lower lip to keep from sobbing or screaming, she isn’t sure which. Panicked, all she can think about is the pretty boy’s gleaming fangs. Oh, if only I had listened. She had gotten herself into more than a dilly of a pickle this time. I should have been more careful, she thinks, frowning. A frustrated sigh escapes her chapped lips, knowing all too well the trouble she’s in. Her lips, puffy, and sliced up turn down as she pries the bent hairpin into the lock for the hundredth time. “Ugggghhh.” She wriggles her wrist, sore, and raw underneath the metal handcuff. James…where are you?

Lucie’s ink-stained fingers are a blur as her hands twist and turn the pin in the keyhole, hoping for a break. She all but tries not to think of the fanged boy or the hungry way he had stared at her. 

Beautiful was the first word that had come to her mind when he appeared last night. A silhouette against the light of the moon, he had snuck into her cell and stood beside the pole she was chained to. He was watching her the way a predator might watch prey. He kept sniffing the air and licking his lips. 

Lucie tried to act unnerved but her blood was heating and her skin was tingling. She felt disgusting; her dress torn and ruined; stained with her blood.  Her face and hands were dirty, the nails on her fingers bitten down to the quick from nerves and pain.

His face was arresting. Much like Jesse’s, it had made her heart stop. Sharp lines and all angles, his face had shapes that made sense on statues. Long lashes made his eyes wider and cherub lips could have easily disguised the boy as an angel. Lucie knew better, or she thought she did when she stared back into his gleaming red eyes. 

Lucie hears shuffling and looks up, almost hopeful. It has been two days since Grace kidnapped her and brought her to this prison tower. Damp and smelling worse than Bridget’s infamous cabbage stew, Lucie found herself repeatedly gagging or gasping for air during the night. Desperate to get out of her nightmarish fairytale, she had thought about calling to the dead for help, like she had before, but the thought of those rotting and decaying bones in the corner rising to greet her had her dismissing the idea instantly. Gast.

 A glance up and amongst the cobwebs, she discovers a window carved into the stone. It is small, but she knows she will be able to fit. It is about thirty feet up and Lucie wonders if she ought to try and scale the wall once she’s able to break the lock. Noises and voices in the stairwell cause her to refocus and stare into the dark. She stuffs the pin back into her hair, mousey curls half hanging down her back. “James?” she whispers, her blue eyes peering eagerly into the shadows. “Is that you?”

Unexpectedly, Tatiana turns the corner. Her face is stern and her eyes are hard and unforgiving under the pale yellow light of mundane candles. Lucie immediately shrinks back into the darkness, unintentionally pulling on her restrained wrist. She gives a little yelp of pain as Tatiana appears before Lucie’s cell. Lucie struggles to catch her breath.

 A smile is on Tatiana’s wicked face, “Oh, your brother isn’t coming to save you, dear.” She spits the word at Lucie and clasps her hands in front of her. 

Lucie scowls, kicking the six stale scones off the plate and onto the ground. “He will save me. You don’t know my brother. He and his friends will go to the ends of the earth for me.“

Grace snorts at Lucie as she stops beside her mother. Her gray eyes are cool and calm, matching the man all decked out in silver moving to stand beside her. “Sorry, Lucie. Not this time.”

“What have you lunatics done with James!? I demand to know!” Lucie screams, her knees giving out. She drops to the ground, refusing to cry. 

The man slowly raises a silver eyebrow at Lucie, pulling her attention to him. His arms are crossed over his chest and the robes he wears sway around his ankles without a breeze. Lucie glares at the man, getting to her feet. She can’t help but noticing that he isn't young or old, but he looks young enough to be her father. Middle-age. The more she stares, the more she feels an odd sense of recognition and the man somehow seems older to her than he looks. Lucie can’t shake it. The feeling, it’s like a parent that won’t give up nagging. His eyes are deep and fathomless, saturated like small stars. Those eyes remind her of somewhere… someone.

The silver man grins, his perfect teeth stark white against his skin.  “So this is the darling Lucie,” he croons, his voice thick and sickly sweet like honey. The way he says her name strikes a chord in Lucie and it makes her more apprehensive. “Beautiful and sweet.”

Lucie scowls at the man, goosebumps flooding her flesh as she pulls her manners together. “You may refer to me as Miss Herondale, Mr…?”

The man grins and it is not friendly, “How is your mother, darling? You must tell her and your father I say hello.”

“Who are you?” Lucie squints, still feeling shaken and it isn’t just the man’s offbeat smile or the strange look in his eye.

“Oh, Lucie. Tsk, tsk that you cannot recognize your own kin.” He smiles, deadly and determined to shatter her mind. “I am Belial, your grandfather.”

Lucie gasps, her blue eyes wide with a new fear. “No. You can’t be..”

Tatiana smiles and takes a slight pleasure in the shock on Lucie’s face. Lucie had forgotten she was watching the sideshow.  “You did not know, my dear? James did not mention Belial to you?” she asks, eager for a taste of Lucie’s misery. If she can’t destroy Will right now, she’ll settle for starting with his children.

Lucie grimaces, pulling her gaze from the man calling himself her grandfather. She turns and eyes Grace accusingly, “We have a deal, Grace. Remember?”

Grace smiles bitterly, ”We had a deal, past tense.”

“I don’t understand,” Lucie says, scratching her head. She plays dumb for the audience, but she knows this is really between her and Grace. 

Grace’s face is concrete; hard and unforgiving like her mother’s. “Don’t play dumb, Lucie. I saw you.”

“What did you see?” Lucie has to ask politely, but she is scowling.

Grace sighs and shuts her mouth. At least she has the decency to keep Lucie’s secret from Tatiana and Belial. Her gray eyes are steel and Lucie knows what Grace knows. I saw you kissing Matthew. 

Lucie chews on her bottom lip. The kisses;  moments that were stolen between her and her brother’s parabatai had happened more than once. Actually, in the last few weeks, it had been many times, more than Lucie was willing to admit to.  Lucie thought they were being discreet. She hadn’t wanted to tell anyone although Matthew wanted to put his family ring on her finger and shout his love for her from London’s rooftops. Lucie thought about it and Cordelia nearly had convinced her that she could heal Matthew; fix him. 

Lucie knew which time Grace had been referring to. That night Lucie had felt the chill of a ghost on her back and she knew it wasn’t Jessamine.

 One mistake made under the moonlight in Brocelind Forest had caused this nightmare of a mess. The last two days she had been telling herself she wasn’t in love with Matthew. She kept making her mind believe she had made a huge mistake and would make it up to Jesse. Math was like a brother to her… wasn’t he? Jesse was the one for her. 

She was Jesse’s girl.

Belial looks on unfazed by the tantrums of two girls. His silver eyes remain on Lucie as if she is a prize-winning animal, his smile thin at the secrets the girls hold between them. “Well now, what do you have to say for yourself, darling?”

“Where is my brother?” Lucie demands again, ignoring his question. She turns cold, blue eyes to him. She gives it her best shot. “I want to speak to Jamie.” 

“James is indisposed at the moment. He will be along to join you shortly, my darling.” Belial says, waiting for her to calm down. “For now, let’s talk about your powers.”

Lucie is horrified but tries to play it cool. How does he know about her abilities? She furrows her brown eyebrows, trying to be steel although she withers like a flower inside. “I have no demon powers, I do not have a clue as to what you are talking about.” Lucie pauses and then takes a tentative step forward out of the darkness and into the sunlight streaming in from the window. “I want to see my brother.” She stomps her feet like she did when she was seven and James blamed her for setting the couch on fire.

Belial chuckles, the sound reverberating through the hollow hallway.”Oh, you are a firey darling, aren’t you?” He pauses, considering. “You remind me of your mother at that age. She was beautiful, all passion and righteousness.“ He smiles, the insidiousness at her mother’s chosen life direct. “Your mediocre Shadowhunter future isn’t far off from hers, darling.”

 “Stop calling me that!” Lucie shouts as she tugs on her shackled wrist, her heart pounding in her chest. 

 “Oh, Little Lucie how you underestimate yourself. I suppose, my darling you would. Being second to James and all.”

 He is testing her, that much Lucie had already figured out. She keeps her mouth shut, letting the fact that she is usually overlooked when it comes to Jamie simmer in her blood. She will store that fuel inside her head and use it later on the lock when they are gone. 

Scuffling in the stairwell and shouting causes Tatiana and Grace to turn their attention away from Lucie. Several long moments later, noises in the hallway send unwelcome shivers up Lucie’s spine as Belial grins at her. Lucie’s mouth is suddenly dry and her eyes dart towards the sounds. James? Cordelia?

 A moment passes and then the fanged boy from last night appears in the shadows of the mundane torches. Several of the torches line the wall across from her cell. They emit a very low light, casting ominous shadows. The hall is dark, but Lucie can still see every detail of the fanged boy’s face. Impatient and nervous, she shuffles her feet. 

The shadows move and Lucie notices the fanged boy is dragging another boy by his hands. The boy is dressed in familiar gear and is kicking and screaming. His hair is a mop of sunshine that Lucie recognizes.

 ”Heathen from the underworld let me go! I am the Consul’s son and you are hereby violating the accords, vampire!“ 

The fanged boy is undaunted by the other boy’s antics and continues to drag the blonde boy towards Lucie’s cell without hesitation. Lucie blinks, not believing her eyes. Not James. Not Cordelia. Matthew. 

Matthew came to save her. 

The vampire grins and tightens his grip on the boy as he hauls him across the smooth stone floor. "Look what’ I found lurking ‘round the back,” he announces as though this spectacle is staged. “an’ he’s lookin’ for her.” The vampire jerks his head in Lucie’s direction and Belial grins approvingly. “Two dead Shadowhunters are better than one.”

Tatiana breaks a rare smile, genuinely filled with insanity. “Herondale. Fairchild. Check, check.”

“Let go!” Matthew yells again, trying to yank his hands out of the other boy’s tight grip. “My neck is far too dirty to have fangs sunk into it this early in the morning! I’m too young and beautiful to be eaten alive!”

“Relax, I’m not going to eat you, Shadowhunter.”

The fanged boy’s face is calm and collected although his lips turn up at the corners. "Turns out, I’m not very fond of angelic blood so you get to continue to sit and be chained to the pretty one.” He laughs lowly and then stops when he catches Lucie watching him. 

Matthew is still carrying on, talking fast like a maniac. The fanged boy moves in a blur. Suddenly, he is close enough that Lucie can see the color of his eyes has changed. They are no longer red, but blue like hers. Actually, as pale as ice, nearly white. Lucie takes a tiny step forward, careful not to pull her chain. She had picked up on his slight accent and now struggles to place the lilt. Ireland? Scotland? Wales? Australia?

“Let me go, you son of a—”  Matthew screams, disrupting Lucie’s thoughts on the vampire’s origin and language. Matthew is stubborn, dragging his legs then kicking the air behind him as he is pulled along. He wiggles and twists his fit body defiantly.

Lucie gasps when he turns his face towards the cell, but she is not shocked to find those familiar dark green eyes simmering with rage. “Matthew? What are you doing here?”

The door of the cell opens and Lucie rushes forwards on instinct, only to be yanked back with a yelp of pain. She steps back until the chain is loose once more. “Where’s Jamie?”

“Luce—” Matthew says on a halted breath, his eyes wide. “I came to rescue you like one of your knights in shining armor.” A charging grin sweeps onto his face as he is tossed to the floor of the cell. Lucie has never been so excited to see him in all her life. This means Jamie isn’t far behind, she thinks and smiles to herself.

 Matthew as he so often does makes the mistake of taking her eagerness for something else. “Luce,” he says again, his mouth softening. The door locks behind him with a loud clang that echoes through the tower. Matthew tries to stand when the fanged boy hauls him to his feet. He grips Matthew’s arm and pulls him over to the rotten, wooden pole that Lucie is shackled to. 

Matthew’s dark green eyes soften at the sight of Lucie alive, relief on his face clear like stream water rushing over rocks. “Are you hurt, Luce? Everyone has been out looking for you. I-I was worried for you.” He eyes her dirty dress stained with blood. “What happened? Luce, are you sure you are alright?”

Lucie breathes her own sigh of relief and her heart melts at Matthew’s genuine concern. She hastily lifts her free arm when he is pushed against her. His body curves around her and she fits beside him like she was made for him. 

The thoughts of his naked body beside hers don’t escape her and she sighs, disappointed in herself. She needs Matthew to keep quiet because she cannot have anyone knowing about the two of them and their misdeeds. She will be ruined and sent away like Eugenia.

Unless Matthew proposes and she accepts. Then she will be no better than Cordelia, settling for a lie. 

Matthew leans into her delicate shoulder and starts smelling her hair. He gently kisses the bruises on her cheek and the act is so intimate she finds herself nuzzling into him.  On instinct, his arms wrap comfortably around her waist, his strong, calloused hands rest easily on her lower back. He feels like home.

“No, Math–not really,“ Lucie says into his shoulder as she hears her heart thrumming like a drum in her ears.

“Good,” Matthew says, breathing heavily. “I’m so glad I found you, Luce. I-I mean, we would be lost without you.”

The fanged boy glances at Matthew, stunned by his honest omission to Lucie while she takes it as a grain of salt. The words bounce off her ears and she flinches. Pale blue eyes watch them for a long moment but the vampire boy does not comment when he continues to shackle Matthew’s foot to Lucie’s foot. The noises of the chain moving draw Lucie’s gaze down for only a minute before her eyes return to Matthew’s expectant face. For a moment he looks the way he did as a child; happy even in a nightmare of a situation. 

The fanged boy glances up curiously at Lucie when she isn’t looking. He smiles as the lock around her foot clicks into place. “All set, love.”

Amid her nightmare, Lucie cannot help but believe there is a deeper meaning to Matthew’s words as he stares into her eyes. Lucie is so close, she can see the sweat and stubble beading on his top lip and the bags under those brilliantly mossy eyes.

The thought of being engaged to Matthew frightens Lucie. She tells herself these wild thoughts unnerve her because she always assumed she was just a passing phase for him. Lucie had accepted the fact that she was a childhood memory that he needed to hold onto and one day would let go. Her heart is turned upside down at the truth, her mind swirling with alternative scenarios. 

Now she realizes she may have been more all along to the Consul’s second son. 

 “Where is Jamie, Math?” Lucie, asks, shoving her feelings aside. Matthew pushes a loose curl away from her eyes as the fanged boy moves away from the two of them. Lucie breathes in Matthew’s clean scent, searching for a whiff of brandy. To her delight, she finds none.

Matthew looks up, a frown forming on lips that Lucie can still feel on hers even days later. “I lost track of him when this monster,” he gestures to the fanged boy now leaning against the wall, watching the two of them with minimal curiosity. “caught me yesterday. He held me in the dungeon until now.”

Lucie wants to shake him until his brain rattles in his skull. "Matthew, did you leave Jamie behind? How could you? Where is my brother?" 

Matthew shrugs, sighing at the bombard of questions coming from Lucie. “I don’t know, Lu. I..I can’t feel any movement within my rune, but it isn’t fading either.” He pauses, sounding distant, his eyes far as he lifts the sleeve of his gear jacket to show her.  “It is unusual, Lucie.” 

Lucie wrinkles her forehead, wishing for a wooden spoon ladle to whack him with. “Where did you last see Jamie, Math? It is very, very important you remember!”

Matthew looks over at her solemnly, and it strikes Lucie how rough sobriety looks on him even as the panic about her brother sets in. “James left me five miles from here. In the forest, he heard screaming. Cordelia had been with us until she got lost after two demons attacked us. James and I killed them, but she got mixed up and ran the other direction.” He pauses, thinking. “James went off to find Cordelia. She is missing too, Lucie. You couldn’t feel it either?” He blinks, staring at the brand-new parabatai rune glistening on her pale neck. 

 Lucie’s skin heats and she rests her head on Matthew’s shoulder to hide from his intense gaze, “We have to get out of here,” she whispers. “We need to find James and Cordelia.”

Grace scowls, her iron eyes on Lucie. She has pretended not to hear Matthew and Lucie talking. “Don’t get too comfortable with Matthew, Lucie. Remember he has a bad reputation; scandalous. ” 

Grace is trying to be snide and cruel, but Lucie had never cared about Matthew’s devious past. Besides, she knew a lot more about Matthew Fairchild than she let on, nevermind that Lucie had already been corrupted by his charms. 

 And wouldn’t it be fun for a while? Something interesting to write about. A love triangle about a childhood friend, a girl, and a ghost.

 Grace continues talking over the conspirative whispers of Tatiana and Belial who are watching Lucie with strange looks on their faces. “Here’s your warning, Lucie. Jesse will be out and about soon and I know he wants to have words with you.”

Tatiana’s ears perk up and she shakes her head at the sound of her son’s name. Lucie blinks, looking up. She glares at Grace, then Tatiana. Lucie watches the ugly bird on Tatiana’s awful looking hat bobbing from side to side like it is drunk. Under pressure, she tries not to laugh like a lunatic.

“He will do no such thing. I will not have him fraternizing with these two and besides, I need him tonight.” Tatiana spits, glaring at Lucie and then Matthew.

Grace turns, perplexed. She glances at her mother and Lucie notices Belial shift, uncomfortable. “For what purpose?” Grace asks, crossing her arms over her pale pink day dress.

“Never you mind,” Tatiana says sternly to Grace. She turns on her heel as if she means business and nods her head to Belial. “Let’s be on our way. There are issues to be discussed in private. Come now, Grace and Aiden. ”

Grace shakes her finger at Lucie before following her mother. “You better not disappoint Jesse, Lucie.”

Aiden, the vampire boy bows to Lucie and then vanishes into the shadows. Belial turns to follow Tatiana, but not before he says over his shoulder, “Our conversation is not over, darling Lucie.”

***

Later on, the moon is shining and someone had left another plate of scones at the door while Lucie and Matthew were asleep. A rat pulls on one of the hard pastries with his teeth, broke and sharp. Spiders and other bugs crawl over the others. 

It’s a good thing I’m not hungry, Lucie thinks as she eyes the rodent wearily. Lucie and Matthew sit on the hay strewn stone floor chained to each other. Lucie had tried to unlock the lock around Matthew’s foot but failed miserably after several attempts.

  One would think this would be pleasant, Matthew thinks as another awkward silence consumes the space between them. He twists his hands in his lap, unsure about what to say. He didn’t mean to lose James and Cordelia, it just sort of happened.

 Lucie sits with her chained wrist over her head, sullen and dreary, lost in her own world. After several hours of being chained to her, Matthew was left to assume she didn’t want to lie to him. He considered that might be why she was keeping quiet about Jesse. 

The truth was, Matthew felt suffocated by the unexpected thought of another boy wanting his Lu.  He was jealous in a way he did not expect to be. He felt threatened.

He had spent years pining for Lucie; lost years denying himself a chance at something real with her. He had kept her and James believing it was a phase, of which he’d get over. And he did until he fell for her again. 

Now, after freeing himself of guilt and shame, he has Lucie. Opening up to her, he finds out there is someone else. Someone else who possibly loves her more than him. 

Determined to get space, Matthew had moved away from Lucie as much as he could when she refused to answer him. Now, he can no longer deal with the elephant in the room. He has to know.

”Luce,“ he begins, glancing at her. He has placed his hands on his knees, drawn up to his navel. His look is pensive as if he is afraid of her answer. The shoe had seemed to be on the other foot now. He never considered Lucie being with someone other than himself. 

It sounds selfish, but it is true.

 Lucie seems to come to life at the sound of her name on his lips. It is music to his ears as she starts humming one of her father’s light, Welsh tunes. A light brown curl falls in slow motion into her blue eyes when she turns her skyward gaze to his face. "Yes, Math?" 

Matthew is stunned by how beautiful she looks even in a dingy cell with her clothes stained and torn. Lucie belongs in a fairytale and for a brief moment, Matthew is silent as he imagines the story she could write.

To Matthew, for years she had sounded and looked like an angel. For as long as he dared to admit, Lucie Herondale had invaded his dreams. Even when he was with others, he always seemed to dream of Lucie. She had become the first dream of his life and even if this didn’t last, he would still dream of her. Nevermore than in this moment with her face turned up to his did he want her swollen lips on his, but he forced himself to ask the question he knew she didn’t want to answer instead.

 His voice is small, heartbroken. “Do you love Jesse Blackthorn?”

#the last hours #cassandra clare #lucie herondale #fanfiction #au #matthew fairchild #grace blackthorn #tatiana blackthorn #belial #part 1 of 3

[venusxxlangdon]

Michael Langdon x reader x Tom Riddle extended blurb

pairing: Michael Langdon x reader x Tom Riddle words: 2.3k warnings: smut, dirty talk, virgin!reader (this is not a sugar-coated first time sex smut where reader doesn’t feel any pain and cums instantly, so, please, keep it in mind. You might not want to read it if you are sensitive), blood, oral (female receiving)

A/N: shoutout to @avesatanormalpeoplescareme  who got even more excited about this concept than I did and encouraged me to write for it

“You can’t start off with doggy, Tom,” Michael rolled his eyes, crossing his arms against his naked chest. “The deep cervical penetration can be too much for...,” he took a pause and shoot a sidelong glance at you, “a beginner. At least, lay her down.”

Riddle looked deeply concerned as if he was trying to solve the worlds greatest problem aka to decide what position to fuck you in. His big palm landed on your exposed ass and he lightly petted the smooth skin, making you squirm under his touch.

“Who cares? She’s gonna bleed anyway,” he scoffed, his fingers dancing along the crack between your cheeks teasingly. Tom smirked at the way you tried to shy away from him and used the same hand to part the two globes of flesh and circle the tight ring of muscles with his thumb. “Or we can use the back door. Whatcha think, sweetheart?” He slowly massaged your hole, and it clenched around nothing, causing you to press your head into the pillow in order to hide your burning face from the eyes of Tom and Michael.

You whined in response and shook your head. Riddle chuckled.

“Don’t worry, we will claim your ass too. It’s just the matter of time” his fingertips traveled down to your pussy, kissing the wet folds with featherlight touches. He slid the pads up and down, smearing the gathering arousal all over your labia, and then spread the glistening folds out to take a closer look at your virgin hole. He poked it with his index finger, sliding just the first knuckle inside and laughed at the way your body jolted up underneath him.

Michael kneeled before you on the bed and used both of his hands to lift your head from the pillow and look you in the eye. For a second his detached beauty took your breath away, and you just stared in awe at his angelic face, lost in the storm of his blue eyes. At first, you did not even hear what he had said to you, being too fascinated with the way his cherry lips moved.

“Sorry, what?” You mumbled and looked down at his hands that were gripping at the pillow underneath you. He pulled it towards himself, releasing it from your grasp.

“We need this pillow to put it under your pelvis,” Langdon mused, and the next moment he took it from your hands, letting your head fall onto the mattress.

You looked across your shoulder and watched Tom lifting your hips a bit higher and placing the pillow under them. He arched his brow at Michael.

“Happy?”

Michael nodded. He bent over and leaned closer to you until his lips reached your ear and whispered:

“Try to relax as much as you can,” he ran his fingers through your hair, and your stomach dropped at his words. What if it was gonna hurt? Your heart race escalated immediately as soon as you saw Riddle undoing his pants and taking a massive cock out of his black slacks. You gulped heavily, thinking if your body was able to take such length. As if Michael was your lifeline, you turned your head at him and asked:

“I-...I don’t think I can...ohh!”

A loud “smack!” cut you off mid-sentence, and you whined at the stinging pain in your bottoms, a blood red imprint blooming on the tender skin.

“Oh, you can, sugar” Tom grinned devilishly, squeezing the abused flesh in his hands just to prolong the sensation with the sadistic satisfaction he felt about the way you were thrashing under him. “We will show you what this pussy is capable of.” He took a grip of his hard cock and guided it towards your throbbing cunt, bringing the flushed, precum-stained tip to your clenching entrance.

“Gonna take our cocks so nice and deep,” Michael cooed, brushing off your messy hair out of your sight, “We can’t wait to have you all to ourselves, baby,” he nibbles on your earlobe, brushing his lips against your damp temple and moving them down to your exposed neck.

You tensed at the itching sensation around your hole when Tom rubbed the head of his cock against it, massaging the welcoming tightness in a circular motion. The muscles of your lower abdomen tightened in anticipation and thrill of the new feeling. He parted your legs a bit more and used his free head to cup you pussy, positioning it at the right angle.

Your mouth fell open when the first two inches of his cock penetrated you. A muffled gasp escaped your throat, and you dropped your head lowly, knuckles holding onto the sheets with a steel grip.

“Keep your eyes on me,” Michael ordered, and you looked at him with wide, doe-like eyes. He bit his spit-slicked lips, and his own shaft, that was laying heavily in the crease of his thigh, twitched at the sight of you taking his best friend’s cock for the first time in your life.

Tom pushed his length forward, but soon he had to stop because you were clenching so tightly, that he could not go deeper. Not only the length was impossible to take, but his girth was also stretching you beyond comprehension. Tears spilled from the corners of your eyes and you shifted on the pillow uncomfortably, trying to show Tom that you were hurt. Michael was watching your face attentively.

“Relax, baby,” he told you. Tom cursed behind your back and pulled his dick out. He spat on his fingers and smeared his saliva all over the tip, pushing it deeper inside of you. This time he managed to go a little further but had to freeze in the middle of the process because of the loud cry of pain that tore out from your chest. A sharp impulse of pain intruded your body, and it was so intense that you could not hold it back. Shaking with every inch of your being, you thought that you should not have agreed to this venture in the first place. You had heard that the first time could be painful, but you never imagined that it would hurt like hell.

“It hurts! Please, stop!” You pleaded. Sweat beaded on Tom’s forehead; he took a deep breath and made the last attempt to bottom out.

“You need to relax for fuck's sake,” he barked, and the demanding tone of his voice brought another wave of tears to your eyes. You truly tried to do what you had been told, but you were too worried and scared to fuck everything up. When another animalistic cry fell from your bruised lips, Tom gave up. Even his hard-on started to get softer. He retrieved his cock out of your pussy and it sprang free with some blood on the tip. Riddle reached out for your panties that were tossed aside not far from him to wipe off the stains.

“Okay, you were right,” he stroke his dick with his hand and nodded at Michael. “I can’t do this, so you go ahead and fuck her open for me.”

A lazy, Cheshire-cat smile contorted Michael’s lips as he celebrated his little victory over Tom. He gently touched your wet cheek with his thumb and cooed:

“Looks like baby is too tight for Tom’s cock, isn’t she?” he leaned forward and darted his velvet tongue out to lick a silvery tear off your cheek. You bobbed your head up and down in agreement. “Let Daddy take care of that pretty virgin pussy then.”

He pressed a quick kiss on your lips and switched positions with Tom who was trying his best not to look too pissed off. You closed your legs and lay them on the bed, turning around to face Michael. With the waving motion of his index and middle fingers, he ordered you to part your legs for him. You obeyed, spreading your thighs apart and wincing at the burning stretch between them. A bright blush, bloomed all over your cheeks and neck when you noticed some blood on your labia and thighs. You tried to cover your private parts with your palm, but Langdon slapped your hand away.

“Don’t you dare,” he warned you. He positioned himself comfortable between your legs and brushed his fingers against your folds. You moaned at the tingling sensation that was mixing up with the still present feeling of Tom’s cock. Before you realized what Michael was about to do, his moist tongue licked a wide stripe over your core, making you cry out in disbelief. He pinned you down to the mattress, swirled his tongue swiftly, and then pushed the tip right into your aching center.

“Oh, my God, Michael,” you moaned, arching your back, the sweet juices of your arousal spilling out of you and covering his plump, sinful lips. He hummed approvingly, lapping up your saccharine nectar, gathering every drop of it, and soothing the burning pain of Tom’s abuse. He placed his tongue flatly against your clit and moved it from side to side, giving the sensitive bud just enough pressure to drive you wild. Your toes curled and you threaded your fingers in his hair, pulling on the honey strands of it.

He made sure to lick all the mess that Tom had made off of your pussy. The unknown build-up feeling started coiling in the pit of your stomach and you were sure that if Michael had proceeded his caresses, you would have cum. But instead, he pulled away right at that moment when you started clenching around him, a sinister smile dancing across his lips.

“Such a sweet girl,” he praised. “You wanna taste her, Tom?”

Riddle nodded and leaned forward to press his mouth against Michael’s. The butterflies in your stomach nearly ripped your insides out at the sight of the two most handsome men kissing in front of you, sharing the taste of you with each other. Their tongues kept fighting for dominance when Michael pushed onto the mattress; blonde and raven black hair spilling on the linen sheets. Tom was the first one to break the kiss.

“Exquisite,” he winked at you, breathing heavily and making a show out of licking his lips clean.

Michael wiped his mouth with the back of his palm and towered over you, straddling your waist; a delicious shiver of anticipation, caused by the presence of the weight of his body above you, ran down your spine.

“Did you enjoy the show?” He whispered in your ear, and you leaned to his chest, wanting, needing to be closer. Your thin hands wrapped around his neck, holding tightly. Langdon chuckled and unclamped your grip, pinning your slender wrists above your head.

Tom was too eager to stay away from the fun. He attached his lips to your left breast, sucking on the hardening bud, working his tongue around your sensitive flesh. His velvet kitten licks felt wet and warm against your skin, making it hard for you to keep your hands in place.

Michael licked his palm and wrapped it around his cock, coating his length with the fluid. Having aligned himself with your entrance, he pushed forward, just the tip of it. Remembering your recent experience, you tensed up a bit, biting on the inside of your neck, waiting for another painful spark. Langdon felt your resistance and with a deep sigh hovered over you, lacing his fingers with yours.

“Hold on tight,” Michael said, and you squeezed his hands tightly as he thrust his cock deep inside of you, splitting you wide open on the throbbing length. Your scream was muffled with Tom’s lips that crashed against yours in a passionate kiss. Langdon moaned brokenly, enjoying the delicious tightness of your cunt wrapped around him.

“Such a good girl,” he breathed out mostly to himself, working his hips slowly. You were trembling underneath Michael, when Tom broke your kiss, leaving you dazed and wide-eyed. You felt so, so full.

He let you adjust to his size, even though his mind was clouded with lust and the only thing he desired at that moment was to mercilessly fuck you into the mattress. His nostrils flared as he dropped his head into the crease of your neck, breathing in your sweet scent. His muscular thighs flexed when he brought his hips up to thrust back into you, but this time taking you deeper, reaching some spot within you that you had had no idea about before. The sparks of pain started slowly turning into something, oh, so foreign. It was a sweet tingling session that intertwined in the pit of your stomach every time he hit that one particular spot. You cried out in surprise, when Michael sank his teeth into your neck, biting the velvet skin harshly, claiming you.

“What does she feel like?” Tom asked him, pumping his cock at a hectic pace and not being able to take his eyes off of you. You looked like a siren: hair spilled on the crumpled sheets, plush lips swollen from constant biting, and that wiled, completely fucked-out look in your eyes.

“The tightest,” a deep thrust that skewered you on Michael’s cock made you squirm beneath the man, “cunt I’ve ever,” another sharp sway of his hips, “fucked.”

You moaned at the filth that was dripping from his mouth, digging your nails into his hands, crescent marks bleeding on his skin. By that time, he no longer felt any sort of resistance from you, fucking you raw, his swollen balls slapping against your ass with each thrust. Michael let go off of your hands, rising above you like a stately atlas. He looked absolutely surreal with his blonde hair clinging to his perfectly structured face, blue eyes obscured with lechery.

“Such a pretty little thing,” he whispered, running his thumb across your bottom lip and then pushing the first knuckle into your mouth and pressing it on your tongue. “And you know what they say about perfect sluts like you?” He cocked his eyebrow at you, and you shook your head from side to side, still sucking on his finger messily.

“They need to be shared.”

Tagging a few who might like it: @ccodyfern @icylangdon @divinelangdon @isoldedax @sammythankyou @micheallangdons @langdonsdemon @hecohansen31 @little-lily-w @ms-mead @ringpop-poppy @littledemondani

A/A/N: let me know if you want to be tagged in my Michael x Tom x reader blurbs because the dynamics among them is pretty abusive and I understand that it might be not everybody’s cup of tea. My tag list for Michael fics is still the same tho!

#michael langdon smut #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon fanfic #Michael x Tom x reader #ahs apocalypse #slytherin!michael

[fatebreaking-a]

Multimuse, so everything’s below the cut.

tagged by: @stahri​ (thanks!)

tagging: @by-force-of-will​, @sacredtempest​, @forvinti​, @goodandbadhearts​, @dark-angel-justice etc etc. Anyone who sees this. Some more tags. @glamorwitch. @demacianmage. @cosmic-drake. @ask-hextechjanna. Anyone. Everyone. Do it!

SO.NA BUV.ELLE.

GENERAL

Name: Asteria

Nickname(s): Sona Buvelle, Sona. Most nicknames are specific from each person.

Age: ~28-30, verse dependent

Morality: lawful / neutral / chaotic / good / grey / evil

Species: Demonic/Fae amalgam, personification of magical force & divinity. Thinks she’s human. Normal human in modern verses, ghost in pentakill, dragon in rain dance & guqin verses, fairly verse dependent.

PERSONAL

Sins: lust / greed / gluttony / sloth / pride / envy / wrath

Virtues: chastity / charity / diligence / humility / kindness / patience / justice

Primary goals in life: To save the world. To make sense of who she is and where she comes from. To one day not feel like an orphan, to feel unconditional love.

Build: slender / scrawny / bony / fit / athletic / curvy / herculean / babyfat / pudgy / obese

PHYSICAL

Height: 6′4″

Weight:  180 lbs or so

Scars/Birthmarks: a few scars and scrapes across her body, some fresh, some decades old. Usually hidden, by glamour or makeup or a shifting body. Deep callouses across all her fingers, breaks across her knuckles.

Abilities/powers: Psychometry, minor telekinesis, empathy, emotional manipulation, illusions, enchantments, alchemy, large # of buffs/debuffs, dream eater, dream protector, oracle, minor shapeshifting, a very scary witch w/ demonic powers. Oh and she plays her instrument real good. Indestructible strings.

Favorite food: plums

Favorite drink: water

Favorite color(s): teal

Favorite music genre: how dare you, all music is music! music is for everyone!

Favorite book genre: psychology / research

Favorite movie genre: what’s a movie. family films?

Favorite season: winter

Favorite curse word(s): -

Favorite scent: plum blossoms

FUN STUFF

Bottom or Top:  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Sings in the shower: -

Likes bad puns: usually

==================================================================================================================================================

ORI.ANNA REV.ECK.

GENERAL

Name: Ori.anna Rev.eck

Nickname(s): Ori, Zaun’s Angel of Rust, Clockwork Roboticist, Clockwork Inventor

Age: ~23 or ~80, verse dependent

Morality: lawful / neutral / chaotic / good / grey / evil

Species: Human time aberration, human in other verses.

PERSONAL

Sins: lust / greed / gluttony / sloth / pride / envy / wrath

Virtues: chastity / charity / diligence / humility / kindness / patience / justice

Primary goals in life: To fix what’s broken. To make friends. To live her best life before she can’t anymore. Please don’t forget me.

Build: slender / scrawny / bony / fit / athletic / curvy / herculean / babyfat / pudgy / obese

PHYSICAL

Height: 5′7″

Weight:  135 lbs or so

Scars/Birthmarks: A few scrapes across her fingers, a large splashing sear across her back, as if hit by a blast of energy - it vanishes once in a while.

Abilities/powers: Technopathy, electricity manipulation, just won’t die. Genius level intelligence, which she uses to make cute robots. Emotionally disconnected, a strange voice in her head to confer with.

Favorite food: Can’t taste anything.

Favorite drink: Can’t taste anything.

Favorite color(s): Soft steel blues have been shown to be pleasing and calming.

Favorite music genre: Rap. Hard rock, something she can feel in her bones.

Favorite book genre: Research journals

Favorite movie genre: ????

Favorite season: spring

Favorite curse word(s): HECK.

Favorite scent: clean air breezes

FUN STUFF

Bottom or Top:  mostly a bottom

Sings in the shower: yes

Likes bad puns: If she gets them!

==================================================================================================================================================

XAN, IRE.LIA.

GENERAL

Name: Ire.lia

Nickname(s): Lia, Irie (Zelos only), Aviator, Blade Witch.

Age: ~24

Morality: lawful / neutral / chaotic / good / grey / evil

Species: Human (Lich?)

PERSONAL

Sins: lust / greed / gluttony / sloth / pride / envy / wrath

Virtues: chastity / charity / diligence / humility / kindness / patience / justice

Primary goals in life: To protect Ionia, always. To live her own life, free of the burdens of protecting Ionia.

Build: slender / scrawny / bony / fit / athletic / curvy / herculean / babyfat / pudgy / obese

PHYSICAL

Height: 5′8″

Weight: 150 lbs or so

Scars/Birthmarks: scars of a decade of war mar her body, memories of comrades and better times she can never get back.

Abilities/powers: Minor telekinesis, extreme bursts of speed, unbreakable willpower, semi-sentient blades. A little flight, a little aviator, nightblade, and infiltrator stuff.

Favorite food: Fish.

Favorite drink: Honey tea?

Favorite color(s): Red? Blue?

Favorite music genre: Anything with the strong beat of drums. Traditional music.

Favorite book genre: -

Favorite movie genre: -

Favorite season: Spring

Favorite curse word(s):  Noxian

Favorite scent: Earth. A sky breeze. Salt of the ocean.

FUN STUFF

Bottom or Top:  what

Sings in the shower: w h a t ?

Likes bad puns: what’s a ‘joke’?

==================================================================================================================================================

KAL.ISTA, LADY OF VENGEANCE.

GENERAL

Name: Kal.ista

Nickname(s): Spirit of Vengeance, Lady of Vengeance, The Spear, The First Betrayer,

Age: Unknown. Older than you, probably.

Morality: lawful / neutral / chaotic / good / grey / evil

Species: Spectre.

PERSONAL

Sins: lust / greed / gluttony / sloth / pride / envy / WRATH!!!

Virtues: chastity / charity / diligence / humility / kindness / patience / justice

Primary goals in life: To scour out all betrayers. To shove Hecarim’s spear down his throat.

Build: slender / scrawny / bony / fit / athletic / curvy / herculean / babyfat / pudgy / obese

PHYSICAL

Height: 5′10″??? maybe?

Weight:  160 pounds?

Scars/Birthmarks: spear holes through her heart

Abilities/powers: Teleportation with the black mist, summoning sentinels, warriors, extreme grace, ability to seek out betrayers and hear those who call for her across any distance, summoning of the black mist, and really good stabbing. Contain all the souls that have pledged themselves to her.

Favorite food: justice

Favorite drink: justice

Favorite color(s): justice? Does justice have a color? Her spirits can’t decide on one.

Favorite music genre: Eurobeat. She is many, and the many can’t decide on one.

Favorite book genre: Military tactics. Ethics.

Favorite movie genre: Eh?

Favorite season: Spring.

Favorite curse word(s): BETRAYER.

Favorite scent: blood.

FUN STUFF

Bottom or Top:  the spirits inside her head are too busy getting with each other to answer this question

Sings in the shower: do spirits need to shower

Likes bad puns: what. no. of course not. fuck you.

#long post tw

[funtimes-inbabylon]

fenrir greyback

"Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels’ hierarchies? And even if one of them pressed me suddenly against his heart: I would be consumed in that overwhelming existence. For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror, which we still are just able to endure, and we are so awed because it serenely disdains to annihilate us. Every angel is terrifying."

Rainer Maria Rilke

Mother told you that her life ended when yours began.

-

Sacrosanct are the fruits of your labor. Rotten in their root, rotten on the tree grown from holy soil. The tree that sheds its skin for you, reaches its tender branches out to you for you take its decaying legacy. Divinity is what you breathe into his flesh, after sinking your teeth so lovingly, so tenderly, into the boy's side. And he tasted so sweet, aromatic to fill your senses with blossoming honeysuckle, pomegranate blood to drip from your full lips. His body a parable, he who is made saint among the wretched. You do not call him son but instead savior.

A pariah, a chosen Messiah. Succinct is your will, writ into him, etched into his skin. Scored stories, didactic in their prose, the way the words form and fall about him. Illustrious in their verses, their psalms that sing into your ears. You'd make him your Bible if he refused to be your godly Prince. You would line him in gold and spin him tales of grandeur. Of kingdoms on clouds, snow-capped spines of mountains and white-feathered servants. You would place words on translucent page, use his skin as script, imperial in your longing.

He'd call you manic in your preaching, your fables and fantasies until you convinced him otherwise. No, not manic, not crazed, lunacy does not run through these veins. He is kept from you, hidden and mistreated - yet you need him near you, where you can plant seeds of righteous thought, where hallowed ideas can bloom. Child, Christ-like, to fulfill a self-appointed prophecy. Delusional, you bit him, delusional, you wanted to raise him.

You read passages from the Old Testament, memorized Lucifer and his morning star. Where Lucifer speaks, the fallen angel breathed through him. He who loved God so dearly, an angel with wings that failed him.

-

It comes to you in fluid dreams, of Catholic renderings, of Ancient Canaanite and Greek mythos poured through your veins. For Eros and the morning star to enter you, to salt the wound that the ropes made, daffodils that grew around you. Fogged vision, surrounding red, blanketed in violet and lily. Lucidly, you line your fingers with golden rings, diamonds placed on them in faceted ovals.

Their teeth flash white ivory in your vision. Their wailing is but illusary to you, it echoes in your mind, overtakes your psyche, as a malign moon burns ocular, circling where you stand. Its silvery light touches you and you cry out, in pain as bones break and form anew. Rip your skin for the sake of change, bleed infected blood, cardinal and ruin.

Hangs like steel manacles around your wrists, tethered to the canine feeling. Imagery and spooled fraternal revelry at your feet, they call you home by howl, compulsion driven by eternal feeling.

-

There is no existence without fear

-

LUCIFER: It may be thou shalt as we.

CAIN:

And ye?

LUCIFER: Are everlasting.

CAIN:

 Are ye happy?

LUCIFER:

We are mighty.

CAIN: Are ye happy?

LUCIFER:

No: art thou?

-

There is no happiness without worship

-

Monarchs fell long before you rose as King. The cushioned crown placed on your head, dealt in jewels and pearls, in where insects surrounding - locusts swarming, their frail bodies quivering, carrying news of your reign on their paper wings. Royalty changed Canis Lupus, and wolves replace soldiers, replace your people, bare their fangs for you. Reach gullets and bite through tendons for you. Bathe in blood, pupils dark, claws tear flesh for you.

You want the same from him, your Godly Prince, to be cloaked in crushed velvet, swathed in red silk, dripping and dripping with golden ruby'd chains for you. You would place him in pelts of wolves, their lives given to you for his return. Where you'd wait on your marble throne for him to beg mercy, forgiveness, divine exoneration from his sin of betrayal, a blaspheme crying crystal tears before you.

You want him crawling back to you, your heir, your only. You want him on hands and knees for you. With head bowed and neck craned, asking for regalia, cratered paradise, elysium nowhere but the palms of your hands. Which, for him to take, is paramount desire. To kiss each jeweled fist and vow loyalty, again, lupine in its hunger. Raven-winged, his plumage onyx iridescent, covertly viridian and cerulean. A jigsawed jaw, the amber of the moment, the snapping of fangs and where bone breaks cleanly to reveal itself rimmed with iron and wine.

Dionysiac in your raging prowess, you'd no choice but to tie his hands with the fated red thread.

These violent delights have violent ends And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which as they kiss consume: the sweetest honey Is loathsome in his own deliciousness And in the taste confounds the appetite: Therefore love moderately; long love doth so; Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.

William Shakespeare, Romeo & Juliet

I. INTIMACY WITHOUT FEAR

For his name to be on your tongue, to embrace your very teeth and cushion between words. He was pillowed, perfect synonyms of grace and utopic euphoria. Placed, crucifix, in a crown of laurel and olive. To feel him before you, come to life, reverie-like in a fixed reality. How mist surrounded him, a pull inward, to fold over himself not in pain but ecstasy. To feel the divine glory, venerated light drug through gaps in the wall, pellucid in window panes, behind stained glass mosaics, your portrait hung from the wall behind him. A line of pews for his followers to preach, to listen with intent, eager ears - to hear that their worries would ebb, as he would grant their redemption.

II. INTIMACY IN WAVES

He'd come to you in a daze, in a trance of circling hounds, a canine ouroboros. He pulls cuspid and molar from his mouth, places them in your hands, pearls of bones to be stringed together, to hang from your blessed throat.

Metacarpus in mineral, a backbone carved from lapis lazuli, bruised, redolent eucalytpus leaves to cloak in archaic fashion. A wine reminiscent of velour. He'd look at you with glazed eyes and you would speak his name, feel it wash over every inch of you.

III. INTIMACY IN A SHARED MOON

It wanes, a harvest moon riding your shoulders, and you'd be haunted - a spiritual representation of the past before you. Wrapped in waving neon, tender kinetics of ghosts squeezing your soul between histrionic fits. Fistfuls of ripe berries, bleeding violet through fingers, digits veiled in pulpy residue.

Morning is pure, stained carmine in the wake of savage passion.

"There is to me about this place a smell of rot, the smell of rot that ripe fruit makes. Nowhere, ever, have the hideous mechanics of birth and copulation and death — those monstrous upheavals of life that the greeks call miasma, defilement — been so brutal or been painted up to look so pretty; have so many people put so much faith in lies and mutability and death death death"

Donna Tartt, The Secret History

#i love my take on fenrir #dont @ me #also fuck jkr rot in hell bitch

[you-can-call-me-verge]

Names

For @cefmua56​‘s Sanders Sides Appreciation Month, Virgil Appreciation Week Day 4

Prompt C. Virgil has been called a lot of nicknames by the other sides. Bad and good. 

Word Count: 1k 

Summary: Virgil likes pet names. Slight angst in the beginning, very fluffy ending. 

Pairings: This could be read as a lot of pairings really, or as platonically depending on what you view as platonic affection. Everyone has their moments with Virgil. Idek man. It could be all, some or nothing.

Virgil has been called a lot of things in his years. Some have been funny, some have been scarring.

"Hey kiddo, can you pass me my mug?" Patton called everyone kiddo, so he wasn't sure it really counted. It was still nice to hear the affectionate term, though.

"Virgil, I don't know why you did it, but I'm disappointed with you." He would deny it later, but after hearing that Patton, he went to his room and broke down crying. It wasn't a nickname, but it was just as bad.

Virgil came into the kitchen, groaning. "What's wrong with you, Edgar Allen Poe?" Even though he was too tired to respond, he thought that one from Logan was pretty funny.

"He had a perfectly good opportunity to take the job! Why did you convince him not to?" Logan was seething.

"So much could go wrong, it's not wo-"

"God, why do you have to be so difficult!"

He knew it wasn't often that Logan lost his chill. This one hurt.

"I love it!" Patton said excitedly.

"You do?" Roman was giggling, blushing nervously. He meant, of course, the makeup he'd tried putting on for the first time.

"It looks great. A little bright for my taste, but it's great." Virgil chimed in.

"Okay, Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way, I'll keep that in mind." Roman teased him, smiling warmly. Virgil wanted to look at that loving face forever.  

"Wait, what if this isn't a good idea?" Virgil pleaded with the other three, trying to get a word in.

"Will you be quiet? Anxiety isn't useful in this scenario!" Roman snapped.

Virgil was quiet. He didn't say it directly, but the message was clear. He was useless.

Virgil has been called a lot of things in his years. Some have been funny, some have been scarring.

Virgil's hands were shaking with sleep deprivation. As he was pouring out his coffee, he heard someone come into the room behind him. "Is everything okay, darling?"

Virgil went absolutely red hearing Roman use the affectionate name. His hand shook as he tried to stammer out a response without looking at Roman.

"I-I uhh... oh ow!" He'd splashed coffee onto his hand while he was distracted. He took his mug and darted upstairs, trying to hide his blush.

Roman followed him with his eyes, filling in the blanks mentally.

Virgil was stood next to the counter, next to Roman (who was sitting) scrolling through Instagram. Patton was bustling around the kitchen, making dinner for the sides. He was distracted, and as he passed Virgil, he bumped into him. Virgil's hip slammed into the counter.

Virgil groaned, grabbing at his hip, trying to soothe the dull, bruising pain. Patton's hand covered his own on his hip. "I'm so sorry, baby are you okay?" he crooned, looking up at Virgil with a look of pure concern. It was so quick he almost didn't catch it, but nonetheless Virgil was flustered beyond belief as he realized how close him and Patton were.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine, really. No problem." He was failing to hide how flustered he was, and he knew it. "I uh... have to go." He darted to the safety of his room.

Roman shot Patton an "I told you so," look.

They were all on the couch, getting settled in for a movie night. Everyone except for Virgil was there with a more sinister plan. Patton sat down with a big bowl of air popped popcorn.

"Oh! I'm dumb- Virgil, be a dear and get the lights?" He said.

Virgil got up, steeling himself to avoid showing his reaction. When he turned off the lights, Roman said to him, "Thank you, honey, that was very kind of you." Virgil tried to playfully roll his eyes, aware of the blood rushing to his face.

Logan witnessed all of this quietly. He knew the hypothesis was correct, but he needed to see for himself. Luckily, he set up his own experiment in advance.

"Virgil, I'm so sorry to make you get up again, but I left my tea on the counter. Could you please get it for me?" Virgil was suspicious, but he went anyway.

As he came back and handed Logan his tea, still warm, Logan said quietly, "Thank you so much, you're such a sweetheart, aren't you?"

Virgil had enough. He snatched the remote away from Patton and paused the movie. "What is going on?" He demanded.

"What do you mean, love?" Roman asked innocently. (He knew what he meant.)

"This! The pet names, and affection and praise and all of it. Don't think I haven't noticed, so explain, now."

Patton was the first to say something. "In short, Roman noticed your reaction to pet names, so he told me. I noticed too, so I told Logan."

"I wanted to see for myself if they were right." Logan explained.

"Right about what?" Virgil asked. He was almost afraid for the response.

"You like being called pet names. It's nothing deep, just we knew if we asked you outright you'd deny it." Roman told him.

"Why does it matter?" Virgil was fought off a strong desire to close himself up, feeling suddenly too vulnerable.

"Well, it's cute."

Virgil's head snapped to look at Patton. He was immediately flustered beyond words. He was aware that he was stammering as he tried to say "What?" but only managed the first syllable.

Roman seemed to understand what he was trying to say. "It's adorable! You get all red and you stammer in such a lovable way."

“Roman said it perfectly. We know that we perhaps haven't been the best to you as long as we've known you.” Logans voice was soft. “We want to make it up to you. This is how we can, by giving you something you like. Something that makes you happy.”

"Y'know... you don't... have to-"

"We know," said Logan. "But it makes you happy, and we love seeing you happy, angel."

Virgil has been called a lot of things in his years. Some have been funny, some have been scarring.

And some have been so, so sweet.

#sanderssidesappreciationmonth #virgil sanders #anxiety sanders #prince sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #morality sanders #logan sanders #logic sanders #sanders sides #thomas sanders #i love virgil #prinxiety #moxiety #analogical #polysanders