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#its a good reminder to just take a second breath and remember this bit of life isn't for forever
beemintty · 6 months
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"tomorrow the sun will rise"
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steddiehyperfixation · 6 months
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don't you forget about me (part two)
(part one)
Steve doesn’t know how long they sit there in silence, waiting. It’s making him insane. The seconds pass too slow; the seconds pass too fast. His mind is a storm; his mind is empty. He’s feeling too much; he’s not feeling at all. He paces the room; he sits catatonically against a wall. He needs to get out of here; he needs to stay. 
He’s been here before, just barely over a week ago, tense and anxious and despairing and waiting for news. But waiting to hear if Eddie will ever remember him again really should not feel this much worse than waiting to hear if Eddie will ever fucking breathe again. Steve thinks there must be something wrong with him. He’s being selfish and stupid. His pathological fucking need to be loved is not what’s important right now. Eddie is alive and awake and okay and that’s the only thing that really matters. That’s the only thing he should really care about.
Steve’s pacing again now, yanking his hands through his hair as he does laps around the room until Eddie finally appears in the doorway. 
Eddie must’ve just cracked a joke or something because the nurse is laughing as she pushes his bed into the room and he’s got this adorable grin on his face. Steve’s heart twists in his chest and he nearly bursts into tears all over again because god does he want nothing more than to press a kiss to those dimpled cheeks. 
“Good news, boys,” Eddie announces. “My brain is fully intact.”
“There’s no physical permanent damage to his brain,” the nurse elaborates. “His amnesia is likely a result of psychological trauma and the temporary disruption of brain function from blood loss and lack of oxygen that occurred at the time of his injury. But there is no obvious reason why he shouldn’t regain his full memory, given time.” 
So there’s hope. Steve breathes a sigh of relief. 
“That is good news,” Wayne agrees. 
Steve asks, “How much time?” 
The nurse gives an unhelpful shrug. “Impossible to say. It could be anywhere from days to months, or even years. I’m sorry, there’s no way for us to know.” 
Years. “Okay.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. He can keep it together. He can. “Thanks,” he tells the nurse. “I, uh-” He makes the mistake of looking at Eddie who looks right through him, and Steve can’t keep it together anymore actually. “I gotta update the kids,” he mutters, backing his way towards the door. Wayne nods in acknowledgment; no protests this time at Steve’s excuse to leave.
“See ya, Harrington,” Eddie calls after him, casual, impersonal, like they're nothing more than acquaintances passing by each other in a high school hallway.  
Steve can’t get out of that hospital fast enough. 
He makes it to his car in record time, slamming the door shut and sinking heavily into the driver’s seat. A ragged sob tries to claw its way up his throat now that he’s finally alone, but he forces it back, staving off his breakdown for just a little bit longer. As much as it was an excuse, he really does have to update the kids. 
Steve fishes his walkie out of the glove box. “Code - whatever, I don’t know. Code Eddie,” he says. He doesn’t remember the kids’ system of codes, nor would he be sure which one this news falls under even if he did. 
“Is he okay? Is he awake?” comes an immediate, eager response from Dustin. “Over.” 
“Yeah, he’s awake, and he’s fine, except he’s got pretty bad amnesia. The doctors say it should be temporary, but right now he doesn’t remember anything since May of ‘85,” Steve explains, trying his best to keep his voice even.
“Steve, come pick me up and take me to see him,” Dustin demands, “right now. Over.” 
“Me too. Over,” Mike chimes in before Steve can respond. 
“And us,” Erica adds as well. 
Steve pauses for a second, both to steady his own breath and to make sure no one else wants to jump in on this too, before he reminds them, “He won’t know you, any of you.” 
“I don’t care,” Dustin says, bossy as ever. “Just come get me. Over.” 
“Jesus Christ, kid,” Steve mutters to himself. He sucks in another breath; it wobbles dangerously. He’s just about reached his limit on how long he can keep himself from falling apart. “I- I need a minute, alright?” he manages through the walkie. “Can you just give me, like, an hour? And then I’ll take you guys to visit Eddie.” 
Steve doesn’t wait for a response before he slams the antenna closed, tosses the walkie aside, and finally, finally lets himself shatter. That sob rips free from his throat, followed by another and another and another. Tears flood from his eyes; his nose runs. It’s an ugly, gross, visceral cry that leaves him exhausted and raw and aching to be held by the time the last sob shudders out of him. Drained and hollow, he craves the embrace of someone who knows him, someone who loves him. 
He sweeps up his broken pieces, wipes the mess of tears and snot off his face, and drives to Robin’s house.
“Steve, oh my god.” Robin pulls him into a hug the second she opens the door and sees the look on his face. Steve clings to her. “What happened?” 
“Eddie’s awake,” he mutters dismally. 
“Oh! Not the tone I’d expect you to deliver that news in, but okay.” Robin pulls back, looking at him with narrow-eyed concern and confusion as she analyzes his puffy eyes and red nose and swollen lips. “And you look like you’ve just been crying because…?”
“Because he doesn’t remember me, Rob,” Steve sighs. “He doesn’t remember anything from the past 11 months.” 
Robin’s eyes go wide now. “Shit,” she says, so plainly it startles a short laugh out of Steve. 
“Yeah,” he agrees. “Shit.” 
She asks him more questions as she walks down the hallway so they can talk in her room. Steve once again reiterates what was said at the hospital. 
“So you didn’t tell him you two were a thing?” Robin asks, closing her door behind them. 
“Of course I didn’t.” Steve flops back onto her bed. “I didn’t want to spook him.” 
She sits beside him. “You didn’t want to spook him,” she repeats, looking down at him with raised eyebrows, “but you told him about Vecna.” 
“Well, yeah. I just-” He lifts his arms to gesture vaguely into the air as he tries to explain himself. “I mean, imagine how you would feel if you woke up in a hospital and some random guy you’ve spoken to maybe twice was by your bedside telling you you’ve been in a relationship with him for the past 9 months.” 
“Uh, I don’t know, dingus, probably about the same as I’d feel if said guy told me I’d nearly died fighting some evil twisted creature from a hell dimension,” Robin retorts.
Steve drops his hands onto his chest with a huff, shaking his head. “No, trust me. He seemed far less surprised by that than he did to hear that we were even just friends,” he says, a bit bitterly. Tears are pricking at his eyes again as he looks up at his best friend. “You didn’t see the way he looked at me, Robin. All he saw was King Steve.”
Robin softens, snark replaced with sympathy. “That sucks, Steve. I’m so sorry.” 
Steve sighs in agreement that yes this really fucking sucks. He sits up and scoots back so that he’s slumped against the wall, hitting the back of his head against it. “I think I’m a horrible person,” he admits, just venting now, “because of course I’m glad Eddie’s alive and all I really want is for him to be okay, and I know the nurse said he should remember eventually, but there’s still some sick part of me that thinks maybe it would’ve hurt less if he had just died.”
“I don’t think that makes you a horrible person,” Robin assures him as she settles next to him, shoulder to shoulder. “I think you’re just grieving, and grief is weird sometimes.”
“It was one of the worst things I’ve ever felt,” he mutters, “when he looked at me without recognition. To see it on his face, just the- the absence of everything that we’d built. I’ve never felt so- so- I don’t know, it was like I couldn’t breathe. He just- he doesn’t know that I love him. He…he doesn’t know that he loved me...” 
Because that’s what it is, isn’t it? It’s not that he’s lost someone that he loves, it’s that he’s lost someone who loves him. Because Eddie’s not gone, just his love for Steve is, and that’s what’s tearing him apart. It’s the fact that there’s one less person in the world who loves him. It’s the fact that Steve’s got this big gaping hole inside of him that’s always made him so desperate to be loved, liked, wanted, needed; and his biggest fucking fear is becoming obsolete. He could probably trace it back to his parents, the first to forget him, the first to stop loving him, but the fact remains that now Eddie has fulfilled that fear too. Now Eddie has carved that pit a little deeper, a little darker, validating the voice that whispers within it and tells Steve that he is forgettable, unlovable, so easy to abandon and erase. 
“Well, I love you,” Robin tells him, like she can read his mind (which, at this point, she probably can). She slides an arm around his shoulders, hugs him close. “And I’m not going anywhere.” 
Fragile as he is right now, Steve falls apart again in her arms, and she holds him together. Because she knows him, because she loves him.
It’s a quieter cry this time, soft and sniffly. Whereas the last one wracked through his body and left him fatigued, this one flows from him almost gently, and when his tears finally subside and he lifts his head from where it had been buried in his friend’s shoulder, Steve actually feels a little bit better, a little bit stronger. Which is good, because he’s gonna have to face Eddie again soon. 
“Thank you,” he says quietly as he pulls away from Robin, wiping at his eyes and glancing at the clock on her nightstand. It’s definitely been an hour by now, probably more. He stands. “I have to go, I promised the kids I’d take them to see Eddie.” 
“Then I’m coming too.” Robin stands with him. “For moral support.” 
Steve gives her a grateful smile. “I love you so fucking much, you know that?” 
“Yeah.” She grins at him. “I know.” 
The nurses have changed his bandages and upped his morphine, so Eddie’s considerably hazy now but at least he can raise his headrest and prop himself up a bit without nearly blacking out from pain. He’s boredly flicking through channels on the shitty TV in front of him, alone since Wayne had to leave for work, when Harrington returns followed by a very unexpected group consisting of Robin Buckley and four strange children. 
“Sorry,” Harrington announces their presence with an apologetic shrug, “I know you don’t know them anymore, but they insisted.” 
“Eddie!” a pudgy, curly-haired kid shouts before Eddie can even react, coming barrelling towards him and trying to hug him. 
“Ow!” Eddie yelps, pain flaring even through the extra morphine. “Fucking Christ, kid! Be careful!” 
The kid jumps back immediately, eyes wide. “Shit. Sorry.” 
“S’fine,” Eddie grumbles.
The kid looks at him expectantly for a moment before seeming to realize, “Oh, right, you don’t remember me. I’m Dustin.” 
“Ah, so you’re the guy I sacrificed myself for,” Eddie mutters, and Dustin looks a little sheepish. That means these must be ‘the kids’ Harrington had been talking about earlier. He surveys the group for a second. “Actually, I think we have met before,” he tells Dustin. “And you too.” He glances at a pale, dark-haired kid. The other two - a Black boy with a flat-top and a younger Black girl - look less familiar, though. “There was this, uh, open day thing at the high school for next year’s incoming freshmen; I talked to you about Hellfire.”
“Yeah!” Dustin’s whole face lights up, so bright and infectious it makes Eddie grin too. “Yeah, you did!” 
“So you guys joined the club, then?” 
This sparks a very animated conversation about D&D, the rest of the kids (Mike, Lucas, and Erica, as they soon reintroduce themselves) gathering around his bed now too to join in. It makes him feel a bit more like himself again, familiar, normal. Except, of course, for the fact that they’re not only talking about how they defeated Vecna in Eddie’s “totally epic” and “sadistic” campaign (adjectives courtesy of Dustin and Mike respectively), but also filling in more pieces of the story of how they defeated him in real life too. Still, it’s nice, fun. He totally understands how he could’ve gotten attached to these kids.
At some point, Eddie glances over to find Harrington hanging back and just watching them talk, fondly, wistfully. Robin whispers something to him and he sort of smiles, just a trace, and whispers something back. They seem close, intimate. Eddie wonders if they’re dating, and then he wonders why that thought makes him feel a bit sick. He waves them over. Harrington looks like he’s about to protest, but Robin gives him a Look and he allows her to grab his hand and drag him to join the crowd around Eddie’s bed. 
“So, what’s your deal, Buckley?” Eddie asks her. He doesn’t know her very well, they’ve only crossed paths a few times in the bandroom, but right now that makes her the most familiar person in the room to him. “Are you and Harrington a thing now? Is that how you’re involved in all this?” 
Robin wrinkles her nose and drops Harrington’s hand. “Ew, no. Definitely not.” 
“She’s my best friend,” Harrington says. 
Eddie snorts, doesn’t know why he finds that so comical. (He’s starting to get tired and it’s making him loopy. Or maybe it’s just the morphine.) “You've got a funny choice of friends nowadays, don’t you? Me and band geek Buckley and a bunch of nerdy freshmen.” He looks at Harrington with incredulous amusement. “Who would've thought, huh? Steve Harrington, collector of geeks and freaks.” 
Harrington doesn’t seem to find it as funny. He shrugs. “Yeah, well, it’s better than King Steve, collector of asshole bullies and shallow one-night stands.” 
“Yeah, ‘course it is,” Eddie agrees through another huff of laughter that breaks off into a yawn. “Didn’t mean it as a bad thing, Stevie. Was a compliment.” 
“Alright.” The barest hint of a smile flickers across Harrington’s face now, but then he’s looking away and corralling the kids and saying, “We should head out, let you get some rest.” 
And Eddie kind of wishes he’d stay.
(part three!)
taglist: @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy (only tagged people who explicitly asked to be tagged; if you would like to be added or removed from this list please lmk!)
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liveontelevision · 2 months
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I beg of u pls more slowburn luci... I'm starved... No one writes him as well as you💔 I'll give you my kidneys 💔
THIS ONES FOR YOU BB
Did it Hurt? Lucifer x Reader
enjoy some quick fluff >:)
♡♡♡
Lucifer always had a habit of losing his temper. It wasn't often, usually when a specific document was giving him a hard time or when he would return from any meeting that took place at Heaven's Embassy. Or, with the relocation of his quarters, whenever a certain radio demon would push his buttons just a bit too much. You've seen it enough times to know when to leave him be and when to step in, but you hated to admit how familiar you became with him in this state.
It was a lot of work keeping up with the hotel after its renovation, and Lucifer did everything in his power to keep the hotel running behind the scenes, so Charlie could focus on her new residents. Being his assistant for so many years, even following him to work at the hotel, you were absolutely delighted to see him so passionate to work, obviously motivated by his rekindled relationship with his daughter. But with the whole redemption premise, it meant a lot more contact with Heaven, and that drained his battery more than anything you've seen.
You hated to compare, but it almost reminded you of his depressive episodes after Lillith disappeared. He walked the halls in a daze, putting on the brightest smile only around the other hotel staff, but you knew him too well to be fooled by his lovely grin.
Throw some drinks into the mix? You'd witness a truly gruesome sight.
It was almost evening when Lucifer realized he actually had caught up to his work and had the chance to enjoy his night. His first thought, no matter how much he'd deny it, was to find you. It was always easier to enjoy his rest and relaxation when you were around. Something about you just left that affect on him. It'd drive him crazy if he thought about it too long.
You found yourself in the newly renovated lobby, still decorated with a bar that exentuated both Lucifer's and Alastor's aesethetic. It was one of the few things they had compromised on.
Lucifer insisted you stop work for the night, but you only agreed after thoroughly skimming over his documents to see if there was anything that would keep him up too long. After finally being swayed, you give him a quick pat on his arm and wished him a good night, assuming he would take the oppurtunity to sleep through his newfound free time.
With a satisifed sigh, you slammed your empty cup on the bar's counter, shouting for another. There was a loud roar of cheers coming from everyone around you as Husk refilled your glass. You lost count after the first hour or so, your head beginning to spin before you could consider the consequences. Soft Jazz music was playing from a small radio, hidden from view, and the entire hotel staff was bustling and chatting as if it wasn't nearly midnight on an average night in Hell.
You had heard something particularly ridiculous from Angel that sent you into a laughing fit. Nearly falling from your barstool, you felt a sturdy hand brace the small of your back. Startled by the sensation, you whip your head around a little too quickly, leaving you dizzy and blinking before focusing in on Alastor keeping you upright.
"Careful, my dear! I enjoy the festivities as much as the next depraved sinner, but we can't have the king's secretary hurting themselves now, can we?" His words seemed rude, but he managed to say them with a charm that prevented you from truly questioning it. It didn't stop you from mumbling under your breath, "i'm not his secretary.. asshole deer demon - " You managed to say it quiet enough that he didn't react, but you did catch his ear twitching and turning torwards you for a second. You quickly resumed some random conversation with Charlie or Vaggie, you couldn't remember its contents if you were asked about it today, but it was better than dealing with the repercussions of insulting the radio demon.
It went back to being chummy and pleasant for a moment before you saw Charlie peering past your shoulder, an excited gasp escaping her lips.
"Dad! Come drink with us!" Charlie leaned back from her barstool, Vaggie bracing her drunken sweetheart from falling flat on her face. You quickly turn, dizzying yourself again, before seeing Lucifer making a hasty decent down the stairs. His hair was freshly quaffed, and he wore a clean white dress shirt, that smelled of a sweet cologne when he walked past you. He had that twinkle in his eyes that would appear whenever he was in Charlie's presence. You loved seeing his eyes that way. They'd shine no matter how heavy the bags under them were.
"Of course, kiddo! Your old man's got the night off if you'd believe it! Pour me a.. uh... something strong!" He puffed his chest out proudly, happy to spend some much needed time around demons in a casual setting. He propped himself against the counter between you and Charlie. When you finally caught up to his words, your eyes widened slightly, giving him a gentle tap on his shoulder. Lucifer turned to look at you, and you caught him speechless for a moment. Your cheeks were red and hot, your eyes dazed and a bit watery from laughing too hard, but still reading concerned for some reason. He's seen you in loungewear before, but you were barely put together in this state. Your hair was sprawled across your shoulders, a few strands blocking your eyes. You wore sweatpants that loosely hung from your waist, revealing your middrift that was visible from underneath your cropped t-shirt that bagged off your shoulders. After snapping back to reality, Lucifer let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding in.
"Yes, yes, dear, here I am. Hope you've been having fun - but not too much! Fun.. Aha... what-what is it, what do you need..?" He stumbled over his words, attempting to be charming but failing miserably. A staticky chuckle responded to his words before you could get out what you wanted to say. "Poetry, your highness. True poetry~" Lucifer hated to look away from you but did so anyway to send a red eyed glare to Alastor, who sat across the bar. He scoffed before scooping his freshly poured drink into his clawed hand and taking a quick swig, slamming it back down. He coughed for a moment, hitting his chest with a balled up fist before sending Husk a teary-eyed thumbs up. "Smooth.. Another..!" He squeaked out. You resorted to taking a soft grip on his forearm after he got too distracted to hear you out before.
"Sir, be careful! We both know you can't hold your liquor.. just - be careful." You spoke in a hushed tone, far closer to his ear than you intended to be, but personal space became foggy in your drunken state. He shivered, feeling your breath against the side of his face, then quickly turned his head up to hide the red creeping across his cheeks. Clearing his throat and picking up his refilled glass, he let out a pompous laugh.
"Thanks for worrying about me, but i'm fine! I'm the king of Hell! I can handle my.. whiskey?" He turned to Husk with a confused look on his face, only to get a confirmation on his drink. He sent a charasmatic smirk in your direction after getting a thumbs up from the bartender. You couldn't help but giggle, covering your mouth to not embarrass him or yourself. He always eased your nerves like this.
What a dork.
You smiled to yourself for a moment before feeling a hand brush the hair that laid across your eyeline out of the way and tucking it away behind your ear. You looked up, fluttering your eyelashes as your eyes focused in on the figure. You turned red seeing Alastor brushing his claws across your hair to keep it away from your face. Without proper judgement, you cringed at the suddenly intimate interaction and jolted away from his clawed hands.
"Now, now, I'm only trying to help! You look an absolute mess, darling." You shrunk at Alastor's words. He still spoke charmingly, but it was clear he had a few drinks as well. You let out a nervous chuckle, running your hands through your own hair and crossing your arms over your exposed middrift.
Lucifer's seen you stick up for yourself before. You were as passionate as he was in that sense. So seeing you almost curled up into a ball at Alastor's words, that were spoken closer to your face than he'd ever want to see, made him growl. "Keep your distant, buddy, maybe you should call it night. If you know what's good for you, that is." Lucifer's confidence only grew with the alcohol finally hitting him. He laid his arm across your shoulder, slightly leaning you away from the demon that towered over the two of you. Alastor found a weakspot and knew exactly what to do with it.
The chatting went on for another hour or two. After Lucifer was calmed down by Charlie and yourself, you all managed to have a decent time until demons started heading back to their rooms one by one. Lucifer was going on a rant about some bullshit documents that Heaven sent and how he'll have to set an appointment to go to the embassy soon, while you propped your head on your hand and only half listened. It wasn't because you were disinterested, you were just coming off your high. You still weren't sober enough to warn Lucifer that he probably had one drink too many, but that was a problem for later.
"Why not send your little servant to deal with Heaven, hmm? I've seem them dealing with plenty of your problems, i'm sure another burden won't hurt, wouldn't you agree?" A wave of radio static washed over your body as you felt large hands fully encase your shoulders. Alastor's claws were cold against your skin, your shoulders exposed by the drooping of the oversized shirt you wore. When he was drunk, his little quips seemed much more personal.
You let out a sarcastic laugh, carefully pulling your torso away from his grip." Ha ha ha. I'm fine, Alastor. I can handle myself, even against Heaven. If i have to, I could totally deal with an angel!" You bragged, maybe the confidence of alcohol made you respond, maybe something else.
"How about you? Think you can handle an angel, Al?" Lucifer added to your words, his arms across his chest. Alastor's eye twitched, his clawed fingers digging into his dress shirt where he was nearly killed this past extermination. The static in the air crackled louder for a moment, before Alastor spun you around to face him. His hands were planted firmly on either side of the chair, caging you in uncomfortably.
"Oh rest assured, sweetheart, I'm fully capable. If you ever need.. protection.. on one of your little errands, do let me know, hm? Maybe you'll need a gentleman to accompany - " He slowly moved in closer to you, until your could barely hold yourself up, your breath hitching as you lost the strength to handle his exessive teasing. Lucifer ripped on of Alastor's hands away, before pulling you from your seat and holding onto your arms to brace you from the quick movement.
"Back the fuck off, bitch." Lucifer's eyes were glowing a familiar red, his teeth snarling at Alastor, who was standing with a playful glint in his eyes.
"Oh dear, did I make a mistake? Is someone a bit protective? Best not lose this one, your higness!"
Damn, that's cruel, you thought, wincing at his words.
You hadn't even confessed any feelings, not that they were clear to you. You considered being in some sort of romantic relationship with Lucifer as your still not entirely sober mind wandered from the frightening moment.
Before you could realize, you were tossed to the side, stumbling onto the carpetted floor with a light thud. Your vision returned to see a fully demonized Lucifer, gripping Alastor's collar as he yelled out some profanities, puffs of flames leaving his mouth as he spoke. You were completely shocked to see how Alastor stood there with a grin on his face. Like he was enjoying it. You quickly stood to your feet, the adrenaline coursing through your veins being more than enojgh to sober you up.
"Sir! Stop!" You reached out and grabbed Lucifer's sleeve, only to be nudged off a bit forcefully. He definitely wasn't using his full strength to keep you away. This was one of the moments you would step out, Lucifer was always impossible to calm down in this state and the alcohol surely made it worse. He lifted his flame engulfed fist, ready to drive it directly into Alastor's shit eating grin.
"Lucifer!" You finally shouted. He paused, slowly releasing Alastor's shirt and stepping away. He scoffed and didn't even snap his fingers, yet a portal appeared behind him. You could see from the outside that it led to his office.
"You're not worth the trouble anyway, fucker." A final puff of fire left his lips as he stepped through his portal that instantly vanished. It left you alone with Alastor in the lobby, the collar of his shirt and a few of his hairs lightly cinched.
"What the fuck is your problem?? Stay away from me! And him? Leave him alone! Damnit, he doesn't deserve this..!" You huffed, making your way up the stairs. Alastor stood alone, his stature still unphased. His eyes shook and he finally let out a shakey breath once you were out of view.
●○●○●
You recognized where to find him and quickly made your way up to his tower. Sure, it stung that he would just leave you after causing such a scene, but that still didn't stop you from worrying about him.
You opened the office door slowly, peaking in to see an empty office. You stepped in and scanned the area, no sign of the king of Hell. You noticed a soft flicker of light coming from the window and went towards that direction. The large windows of the office opened up, one in particular leading to a small balcony that displayed the Pride Ring as a bustling landscape of city lights.
You let out a soft breath, taking in the view before finally seeing Lucifer sitting on the railing, his hands holding him up. The flickering that led you towards him was the flame that sat at the crown of his head, his demon form still intact. You knew it took him awhile to calm down, but you rarely got the chance to see his powerful features this close. His tail was hung over the railing, swaying like how a cats' would. His wings were fully sprawled out, only moving with his breath and his horns, a vivid red at the tips, tore through his scalp, breaking up the purity of his white flesh. The flame that sat between them was much smaller than before and his eyes were still red, but you could see his yellow irises looking down at the city. His shirt had torn from the back, you assumed with how fast the situation at the bar escalated he didnt properly consider the physical damage he'd cause. In this vision of raw power, just the sight of the back of his neck and shoulder blades peaking from his torn shirt was what made your blush.
He turned his eyes towards you, then looked back to the city, adjusting his wings so you could have some space to stand near him. At least he was welcoming you in. You carefully stepped over the ledge, bracing yourself on the railing as you got a full view of the city. The wind left a much needed cool touch to your face, making you let out a soft sigh. You propped yourself up on your elbows, bending at the hips slightly.
"You know, considering how terrible the people are down there, the city really is beautiful. From a distance." You spoke softly, testing the waters; seeing if he simply needed a distraction from the outburst." Actually, it looks pretty similar to a city on Earth. Not as busy and a lot less bloodshed, but still similar. I've never been, but this is pretty close to the pictures i've seen." You described. Sometimes the mention of Earth was good for him to hear too, so you gave that a shot as well.
"They used to be white. Sometimes in the sunlight, you could even see some gold flecks in there." He finally spoke, his voice hoarse. He stretched out his wings slightly, motioning that those were what he was referring to. You twisted around to fully face his wing that had outstretched in your direction. "They were really beautiful."
"I'n sure they were, sir. Do you like flying? I saw you doing it when you were fighting Adam, you seemed really fast." You spoke softly, deciding not to argue the fact that they were still beautiful in this state. He didn't need to debate right now. "May I?" You let your hand hover just above his feathers, the wind occasionally blowing them into your touch. He nodded, even if he was exhuasted, he still seemed anxious at the idea. You carefully trailed your fingers in the direction of the feathers, now a blood red. They were still unbelievably soft and they essentailly leaned into your touch, as you traced the spine of each feather mindlessly.
Clearing his throat and letting himself calm down from the touch, he did his best to respond." I-I used to. In Eden, I would.. mm... I had to patrol and catalog Adam and - well... any progress or changes.." he stammered out his words, occasionally stopping to let out a quiet hum." I just don't see the point anymore. Plus, it's probably not the safest bet." He let his head fall back for a moment, his wings slowly but surely pulling you towards him.
"What about your tail? And.. your horns? Those only appeared after you.. erm... after you arrived in Hell, right?" You moved on to the lower wing that was closest to you. There were some loose feathers that were sticking in all sorts of direction, so you carefully wiggled those out and continued to comb through the large span of feathers, running your nails along the very top with slight pressure. "Hng.. right, yeah. Those are newer." Was the only response he managed to get out.
"The horns.. did it hurt?" You were almost scared to ask, the idea of horns sprouting through your head and breaking your skin on multiple occasions made you shiver.
You continued to groom his wings as he responded. "T-The first time, yeah. But now, not so much. Or maybe i'm just.. I'm just used to it.. Mmh!" He winced mid sentence, his wings curling in with a jolt. You felt his tail rope itself around your wrist and hold it in place. "Oookay! That was n-nice.. thank you, but- yeahh.. Ahha.. that's enough of that." He chuckled nervously, and you looked over at him after not doing so for awhile. His face was flushed red and his chest was heaving. You couldnt tell if he was hurting or.. "Oh! Sorry! I didn't mean to.. Sorry..." you weren't exactly sure what you were apolgizing for, but considering the possiblities made you turn red.
"Nono, it's fine. It was nice, I promise." He managed to compose himself, but left his tail around your arm loosly. "But, uh, yeah! Yup! Horns are new, Tails' new. The fire's definitely an interesting choice, can't get rid of that even if i tried. And trust me, I tried." He went on, leaning back on the railing and letting his wings tuck in, but still left them in view. You let your head fall to your shoulder, cocking your eyebrow. "Get rid of it? Why? Doesn't it go away on its own?"
"After awhile yeah. But here I am, in a situation where I definitely don't need to use any of this shit - I-I don't know what it's for other than intimidation, but I still can't get it to go away on command. After all this time.. The vodka probably doesn't help either." He huffed, clearly frustrated at his physical appearance. You had taken to fiddling with the tip of his tail as he spoke. You did it much more softly, and it didn't seem as sensitive, so he didn't comment on it. But he still had a red hue across his cheeks and his tail twitched every now and then at certain touches.
You let out a quiet giggle, "It was Whiskey, but yeah i'm sure that didn't help either." You clarified in a teasing sense, then fell comfortably into a silence for a moment. You could just barely hear cars honking, gunshots and music when neither of you spoke.
"Well, if it makes you feel any better, it definitely does the job. You left Alastor shaking in his boots back there." You said with a smile, turning your head to meet his eyes. They were still mostly red, but you could see them softening just at the sight of you.
"Good! He deserves it. Sweetheart, if that prick ever does anything - "
"Don't worry, he won't. You know he only picks on me to get under your skin." You walked your fingers up his arm before seeing his fist clench at the sensation.
"I-I suppose.. I- Uhm... What are you doing..?" He started to sound nervous, but didnt pull away from you. You stopped what you were doing, realizing one hand was sitting on his thigh and the other was making its way up his arm. You yelped and pulled your hands back, placing them on your cheeks just to gauge the heat immiting from your skin.
"I-I don't know! Sorry! M-maybe i'm still drunk..! Yeah, that has to be it.." you stammered, a blushing mess. The sound of his soft chuckle was quick to ease your nerves." Maybe.. it's curiousity... Do you- not to sound weird, say no if i'm wrong - but.. you can- ahh.. touch my horns, too.. if you want - " He wasn't trying to be crude, you could tell he really just wanted to calm you down. Or maybe he just wanted to be touched. You nod your head slowly, keeping your eyes locked on his.
He shifts his positioning to face you, and leans his head down a bit. Taking each of your hands into his own, which were a bit shaky , he pulls them up to meet his intimidatingly tall horns. You basically shut your eyes in anticipation, only opening them back up when you get a good feel. They were smooth, like the surface of a violin, but they felt heavy. You wondered if they felt heavy to him. You carefully menuvered your hands around the fire that was nearly the size of a matches flame at this point, sliding up to the tips. They were ridiculously sharp. It made you more anxious than anything else, they couldve pricked your finger if you werent being careful enough.
"Remind me to remind you how sharp these are. You'll poke someones eye out if you're not careful. Unless that's what you're aiming for, then go for it." You tried speaking to him as you did this to break the intimate silence of the moment.
He let out a nervous laugh. From his view, he could see most of your stomach, more visible than before due to your reach. You actually felt a particularly heavy breath reach your middrift, making you tense up for a moment. Still, lucifer was careful to keep still after the comment on his sharp horns.
You made your way down to where they met his temples, hesitating for a moment before feeling the skin that was stretched over the bone-like features. It felt like scarred flesh. Your felt your heart drop in your chest at the sensation. When he said it hurt the first time.. the horns must've physically ripped through his skin. Without thinking, your hands trailed down to cup his cheeks, making him lift up his head with a questionable expression." So? Did you get your fill?" He asked, a stupid smirk dancing across his face. You scoffed, taking the moment to look into his red eyes. They almost hid the tiredness of his usual colors.
You noticed his eyelids begin to droop and before you knew it, your lips had brushed together in a tender kiss. You pulled him in closer, your hands still planted on his cheeks. He wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you up to sit on the railings beside him, never breaking contact during the process. He was careful with you, even as you parted your lips to invite a heavier kiss, he held his shut. You pulled away for a moment, moving your hand to his lower lip and just lightly brushing your thumb across it. His breath became heavy at the delicate touch, his grip around your waist falling onto your hips. You left your thumb on his lip and took the opportunity to slide your tongue slowly into his mouth. He yelped, his eyes suddenly shot open at the boldness of your actions. His suddenly limp hands, almost clawing at your hips. His forked tongue eventually made his way into your mouth, still with caution. You felt the fork in his tongue and smiled into his lips, enjoying this new discovery a little too much. He melted into your touch and followed your movements, barely having the strength to keep his head up on his own. You reveled in the moment, before feeling a sharp prick on the tip of your tongue. You pulled away, giving you both a much needed break to breathe.
You run your tongue across the top of your mouth, the smallest taste of blood hitting you."Oh! Fangs!" You quickly exclaimed, the realization hitting you before you could form a real sentence. He stared at you almost dumbfounded, not sure how to respond.
Once you had both composed yourself enough, you noticed that all of his demonics features had retreated, leaving just his wings sprawled out. He let out a satsified hum as you looked into regularly colored yellow and red eyes. You ran your hair through his hair, that had become messy from the horns, and pulled him into another kiss. Lingering for just a moment, you pulled back and smiled, letting your eyes dart across all he features." You're beautiful, Lucifer~" you hummed, your thumb caressing his cheek. You almost couldn't tell, but he did his best to keep any tears from welling in his eyes.
♡♡♡
I wanna work on my multi-part series after all my exams as a heads to you lovely lil people
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initialchains · 4 months
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shadow of a heart | luke castellan.
pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader
summary: luke’s last day at camp and everything that comes with it.
wc: 3.1k
warnings: book spoilers and (shocker) luke being a bit toxic but its all internally
a/n: this is based on cosmic love by florence and the machine !! aka one of my fave songs of all time. sorry ik i disappeared for a while :( i hope this fic is good enough as an apology <33 also i think it is impossible for me to not talk about the stars and sky in a fic …
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Luke could swear his heart was about to burst out of his chest. The sound of unclaimed children snoring and the sight of his siblings peacefully sleeping didn’t seem to help him calm down, he ran a hand through his face before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He had to calm down. He couldn’t risk fucking this day up. After all, waking up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and with his heart running a marathon wasn’t the most pleasant way to kick off his last day at camp. His last day ever. 
“Don’t fail, Son of Hermes. Unless you’re a coward,” The Titan’s voice rang in his ears, causing his breathing to come out short and his chest to rise up and down at a fast pace. Luke gasped for air, pressing his free hand against his chest.
His body reacted faster than his brain. His mind blinding him with a fog of fear. Fear of not being strong enough for the Titan Lord. Fear of being too weak to take out the scorpion he currently had hidden under his bunk. Fear of losing his only family. Fear of losing you. 
Luke had to take a second to remember the reasoning behind his actions. Reminding himself to not be scared, because why should he be scared? The gods should be scared, not him. If they hadn’t neglected and abandoned their children he wouldn’t have to do this. How dare they make him feel scared? After everything they’ve done to him, after all his losses, after all the times he had to press his hand against his mouth in the shower to muffle his sobs… why should Luke be scared? 
His heart slowly returned to its normal pace and Luke took advantage of it to throw his bedsheets to the side and step out of his bunk, walking in careful steps towards the door, making sure to skip over the pieces of wood that always creaked under his feet. The six years he spent under the roof of the Hermes Cabin helping him learn the best ways to sneak out without getting caught.
 At least something good came out of it, he thought. 
And even if he got caught, what would the children do? They admired him. He was The Strong and Brave Luke Castellan, the most skilled swordsman in the last three hundred years. The campers would be too intimidated to rat out their counselor. 
The certainty of his dominance over the campers was enough to fuel his last steps and open the door. Luke was greeted with a starry sky and a quiet night, the wood nymphs not humming in their sleep for probably the first time ever. He thought this was fitting. Camp Half-Blood being quiet on his last day. It’s almost as if the Camp was silently begging him not to leave.
Look at us. Look at how quiet it will be. Look at how dark the safe haven of the demigods will become. You’ll take the stars with you when you leave. 
He shook his head, trying to get rid of the loud thoughts he was having. Luke had it all planned out, all he had to do was pack his things and leave. 
No.
All he had to do was pack his things, make sure the Son of Poseidon dies, betray his sweet and brave little sister, betray you.. and leave. 
Stay. Just stay. It won’t be dark if you stay. Don’t take the stars away from your family. 
Luke was sure he was going crazy. He probably has been for a long time but he became certain of it when he gave up everything just to prove his loyalty to The Titan Lord. 
But despite all the rage he had inside him, a part of him wanted to run straight to the Big House and tell Chiron all about his wrongdoings. He wanted to get on his knees and repent for stealing The Master Bolt and The Helm of Darkness. He wanted to cry into your arms and reassure you of all the love he held for you. 
How could a silent camp be so loud at the same time? 
Luke walked to the combat arena and took Backbiter out of its hilt. The weight of it not even coming close to the weight he felt on his shoulders. His hands shook as he stared at the blade, the mix of tempered steel and celestial bronze making him feel sick. A feeling of impending doom settling in his gut.
“It can kill mortals, demigods, and immortal divine beings,” He remembered his master’s words. Luke’s reflection on the blade stared back at him, his scar being more prominent than usual.
Was he cursed? Maybe he was doomed from the moment he was born. 
He was fourteen years old when he stopped believing in salvation. The thought of there being a paradise where he’d end up happy and in peace seemed impossible to him, almost unimaginable. He had been fighting his entire life, not ever knowing peace or unconditional love a day of it. Sure, he assumed his mother loved him before she turned into... whatever she was now. But he stopped believing in the goodness of the world when he packed his bags at just nine years old and ran away from his house. After all, that’s what it always was: a house, not ever really a home. 
He was sixteen when he found his home. After two years of grieving Thalia’s death and sobbing silently in the showers—not ever daring to let Annabeth see him as weak, he found his home. He met you. Someone who would listen when he’d ramble about his mother’s homemade sandwiches and cookies, the ones he always claimed were “Kinda bad and didn’t miss at all,” never forgetting to mention that his mentally unstable mother is probably so far gone by now and probably doesn’t even remember the recipe. 
Luke twirled the sword with his right hand, trying to get comfortable with the newfound weight. He stared at Backbiter, noticing how it even made him feel scared, the darkness it held made him want to sneak into the Forge and melt it down. 
He tried to calm himself down by remembering one of the thousand times he shared stories about his mother while you silently listened. 
“I mean it, she thought those sandwiches were the peak of cuisine and yeah, I was nine so I guess it probably was, but... really? She could’ve done so much better. I suppose I can’t blame her for it, I would be a mediocre parent if someone like Hermes was co-parenting with me,” He explained while playing with your hair, his slender fingers moving in a delicate way while he kept his eyes on the campers risking their lives as they flew higher than they should with their pegasi. 
You didn’t miss the way he laced his tone with disgust when he said his father’s name, but you knew better than to reprimand him for it. “Beckendorf is totally going to fall off that damned horse,” You chose the safe answer, changing the direction of the conversation to something more lighthearted. 
Luke snorted next to you before poking your side with his free hand, “You’ve been in this camp for three years and you’re still calling them horses? Gods, what would Zeus say?” You could hear his smile even though he tried to mask it in his faux angry statement. 
“What would Zeus say? I’m sure you would love to know, Castellan. You should ask him in two weeks,” You replied, turning your head to the left to face him and poking him in the chest. You took notice of Luke rolling his eyes when you reminded him of the most dreaded time of the year: The annual winter solstice visit to Mount Olympus. 
“Don’t tempt me, angel. I’ll even tell him my sweet girlfriend was the one who ordered me to ask him about it,” He said, before leaning closer to you and pressing a soft kiss against your forehead, his hand moving from your hair to your jaw, caressing it in the tender way he always did. 
“Alright, alright. I get it, you win.” 
A bright smile made its way to Luke’s face, “Just another day on the job.”
“Just another day of you being a huge—” Your statement was interrupted by a loud thud and the sound of campers screaming, begging for a medic. The two of you were quick to stand up and run to the stables just to be greeted with the sight of a group of campers surrounding a clearly injured Charlie Beckendorf. 
“Fuck, Beckendorf. I’ll go check if there is a free spot in the infirmary for you but you need to be more careful when you play around with that horse.” You turned around, trying to ignore how worried you felt for your Son-of-Hephaestus friend, ready to sprint all the way to the Apollo Cabin. 
You were a few feet away from the stables when you heard a yell coming from behind you, “It’s a Pegasus, baby!”
You screamed back a “Shut the fuck up, Castellan!” and tried to ignore the wide eyes you got from the younger campers who heard the not so pleasant word come out of your mouth. 
Luke didn’t know how long he spent in the combat arena trying to get comfortable with the weight and darkness Backbiter had, but the sun was out and shining its bright rays down on Camp Half-Blood by the time he finally got tired. He panted and closed his eyes as he felt a wave of exhaustion take all over his body. 
He just didn’t know if he was exhausted from training or exhausted from keeping secrets from you. 
“Don’t get mad but that new sword looks kinda..” Your voice had him snapping his eyes open, the sight of you walking towards him making his body feel lighter. Luke felt so relieved to see you that he considered dropping down to his knees and breaking down crying over the weight he was carrying. If he hadn’t been in a public space he might as well have done it.
“It looks kinda?” He answered, running the back of his hand through his forehead, trying to get rid of the sweat trickling down from his hair.
“Kinda shit,” You continued. “I think the sword being double edged is cool but it’s stupid to have that. When would we ever maim a mortal? The tempered steel is useless.” 
Luke gave you a small smile before looking away from you. When would we ever maim a mortal? You’d be surprised, he thought. He looked up again to meet your eyes, a frown taking over your features. Luke’s heart sank when he saw your worried demeanor. 
“Hey, what’s wrong?” You whispered, walking closer to him and cupping his cheeks, running your thumb under his scar before leaning closer to him and kissing it. 
Luke hummed at the sensation, he always felt less ashamed of himself and his actions whenever you kissed his scar or caressed it. He didn’t understand why but he liked having the knowledge of someone not seeing the scar as proof of his blatant failure, he liked knowing you saw the scar as another beautiful part of him—a part you loved. 
He turned his head to the left, kissing the palm of your hand and replying with a low, “Don’t worry about it. You know how I always get when it’s the last day of Camp for the summer campers.” 
It wasn’t a complete lie. Luke always felt sick whenever this day arrived because he knew half of the campers he met this year wouldn’t be coming back. They’d be lucky if they even survived all the way to December. 
“No, Castellan. I will worry about it. If it’s important to you then it is important to me,” you answered, matching his low tone as you stared into his eyes, feeling captivated by the light they held inside of them. You were sure a star fell straight into them and that’s why they always reflected light and love.
Luke sighed and took your hand that was cupping his cheek, intertwining it with his.  “Fuck, I’m going to miss you so much,” he whispered, almost as if he was talking to himself. 
“You do know I’ll come back to camp for Christmas, right? Plus, we can Iris Message whenever you want. You don’t have to miss me, Luke,” you reminded him. Luke almost keeled over and vomited at the knowledge of you thinking you’ll see him again in Camp. 
“I always miss you, angel. I’m even missing you right now,” Luke answered, leaning down to steal a quick kiss just to be stopped by a hand pressed to his chest. “What the fuck?”
“You’re sweaty as shit, Castellan. Go take a shower and maybe I’ll let you kiss me when you’re done.” That was enough motivation for Luke to mutter an annoyed “Fine,” and walk to the showers. 
Luke spent more time under the showerhead than usual. It was his last day at camp, he reminded himself. He deserved to take a long cold shower without the worry of Mr. D getting mad at him for “Wasting the cold water on just himself.” He could use all the water he wanted because he was never going to step a foot inside this place ever again. 
Plus, he could use this alone time to think. Think about the finality today will bring. An end to his years at camp. An end to his loyalty to the gods. An end to his bond with Annabeth. An end to his relationship with you.
That’s probably what scares him the most–the thought of you deciding to go against him. He doesn't know if he should let you know about the things that were bound to happen tonight or if he should just keep you in the dark. 
Two frightening options: Bringing you to the light and showing his true self to you or keeping you in the shadows.. never fully knowing how broken and rotten he truly is. 
He tried to not think about the second option for too long. Because even if you did find out and he went through with Kronos’s plan causing the sky to remain starless forever, he knew you would choose to stay in the shadows for him. He trusted you and knew you would rather stay in the darkness than go against him.
The rest of his day went by faster than he wanted. He sparred with a few campers, got used to Backbiter’s weight by fighting some training dummies in the combat arena, spent time with his siblings, and sat next to you in the dining pavilion. It all seemed like a normal day at Camp Half-Blood. 
Well, at least that’s how it felt until Percy Jackson came back from his visit to Mount Olympus. 
The campers celebrated his return by lighting up fireworks and cheering his name every two seconds. It all made Luke feel sick. Why didn’t he get treated like that when he came back from his quest? All he got was a scar, looks of pity, and dead quest companions.
 No heroic welcome and no fireworks. Just burnt shrouds, mourners, and a feeling of self-loathing taking all over him. 
“Hey,” your voice made him drag his gaze away from the green fireworks lighting up the night sky. He turned his head to the right, meeting your eyes and raising a brow.
“I am pretty sure you owe me a kiss,” he said in a playful tone, taking notice of how the light of the fireworks illuminated your face just right, making the light look like a halo around you. 
Maybe he was wrong. Maybe it is impossible for there to be no light and for the sky to be starless. There will always be light as long as your heart is beating and your eyes are set on him.  
“Huh, do I? I don’t think I do,” you replied, biting your lip trying to prevent a smile from taking over your face. 
“Oh, shut up,” Luke answered, finally taking your face in his hands and kissing you. He almost fell to his knees at the feeling of your lips moving against his. The kiss was like a comet’s trail, leaving behind luminous particles of Luke’s hidden secrets and unspoken desires. 
You pulled away first, trying to catch your breath as you kept your eyes closed and your forehead pressed against his. “What’s wrong?” you whispered, asking him the same question you did in the morning.
“Why do you ask?” Luke answered in between pants, his breathing uneven due to the intensity of the kiss you shared. 
“You were.. somewhere else when I walked here. Lost inside your pretty little mind,” you explained. Luke hummed when he heard your answer. 
“I just,” he sighed, pulling his forehead away from yours by raising his head. “What would you–” he cut himself off. “Never mind.”
“No, it’s fine. I want to hear it.” 
“What would you do if you woke up one day and the earth was consumed by darkness? And I mean complete darkness, no sun and no stars.” 
“Holy shit. Did you hang out with the Apollo and Athena cabin?” you held back an amused laugh.
“Just humor me for a second, please.”
“Alright, um..” you looked down, trying to formulate an answer to Luke’s strangely philosophical question. “I guess I wouldn’t mind as long as I could find you. I know I’d be able to find my way to you so I wouldn’t really worry too much.”
And that answer was everything Luke ever needed. 
He spent some more time talking to you, memorizing the way you looked under the lights of the amphitheater in your Camp shirt and necklace. Trying to enjoy it because he will never have this sight again. 
Luke excused himself with an “I have a gift for Percy, but I’ll come back to you. Just give me some time,” before walking all the way to the cabins and taking out the Pit Scorpion he had hidden under his bunk. 
There was no fear in his actions this time. His heart was beating in a steady rhythm and his hands weren't shaking anymore. The weight of Backbiter in its hilt felt perfect against his hip. 
There would be no fear in any of his actions anymore. Because he knows if he keeps you in the shadows you’ll eventually become a dark starless sky just like him.
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edensown · 3 months
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BE KIND TO ME. ; perfect landing —
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note ★ a little something to get me out there while i continue designing my account . an introduction to what my blog will mainly focus on : human readers ;)
cw ★ reader grew up religious, mostly second person point of view.
in which a human falls so low that their lord can no longer hear them; so they have to make do with what they have.
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if there was any sound familiar to you , it was the kyrie.
"kyrie eleison," a cantor sang at every mass; lord have mercy. sang to remind people the steadfast love of God, to remind them of His mercy. it is also, indirectly or not, a plead. you've always thought of it as one; a plead to ensure that when push comes to shove, and death comes above to collect you— it is peaceful. you're not angry, or sad, you're just... at peace. that's what you've always wished for yourself, atleast. that's what you've always wished for during the kyrie.
"kyrie eleison," they sang, you closed your eyes.
"christé eleison," they sang, you swayed to the tone.
"kyrie eleison." they sang, and you wished.
lord, be merciful. lord, be kind to me.
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all you remember is falling.
falling down, and down, and down— past the soils of the earth and each their layers, past the searing innercore, likely, because you felt yourself burning. whether the fire was burning inside of you, or just burning you, you don't know. you brace yourself. your breath is ragged. you're laced with sweat, rubble, and you reek of fear.
lord, be merciful. lord, be kind to me.
you wish again, but you don't know if the lord can hear you from so low.
you land.
it is not on rough terrain, thankfully, but it's not on soft terrain either. you're confident you're supposed to be dead right now, that was a painfully hard landing. you recoil, taking a fetal position as you groan in absolute agony because what in the world did you just land on?! your vision is blurry, and black splots take up half your vision—lord, be merciful. lord, be kind to me, lord, please; you beg incessantly.
you look at what you landed on.
recently waxed tiles...?
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this is outrageous.
the demon prince stolas sat across you. the height difference was astronomical— you had been taught not to lie, under any circumstances, not even this one. the height difference was astronomical and astronomically attractive. you glance around, surveying your surroundings (his legitimate palace) and trying not to lose your mind because out of all the places you could've landed on, why did you, a human, have to land in hell?
he found you in a fetal position, comatose & dirtying his immaculate floors with your humanity. from afar, he thought you were an abandoned nestling, a little owlet discarded by its mother. he pitied you, mercy filling him (not really his favorite thing to be filled with, however anyone who saw you and had atleast a bit of heart left would be able to empathize) in a rush as he took ahold of your small body in his hands.
he dropped you as soon as he held you, feathers puffing up as he stiffened. your body fell with a thump. in stolas's mind, there was but one thing:
what the fuck did blitzø do?
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"blitzø ! you're going to get me in deep, deep shit because of this — who are you to think that sending a human to my palace would be a good idea ? do you know how many employees I have?! they—"
"woah, woah, woah ! calm the fuck down , stolas , I didn't fuckin' do nothing alright ? I don't know why the fuck a human somehow landed on your balcony — but hey ! atleast your tiles aren't broken from the impact of their fall ! seriously though . I don't know what the hell you're talking about ."
"then who?!—" stolas groaned. "you know what ? nevermind. fine. just send the book over and I'll send them back home." he resolved, planning to end your time here as soon as possible, so that when you do arrive in hell next time, you arrive the way you're meant to. it would be an easy fix, after all. an outlandish situation, but nonetheless easy.
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"i cannot send you back to earth." were the first words stolas told you. you didn't know whether or not you were hallucinating, considering there is no way a tall, skinny owl would be able to talk. nor were you supposed to be any where but earth; that is, until you arrived to heaven. like you were meant to. right. right?
no.
he can't even send you back to earth. a demon prince with a grimoire capable of sending demons to earth, where they don't belong, can't seem to send a human back to their home. that is so messed up, that is so crazy, you are about to cry. you don't even know his name , but you know his features. you know his capabilities, not through your own knowledge however— because he was kind enough to tell you himself. would he be kind enough to shelter you? or would that be below him?
"prince stolas..." you start, he cocks his head to your direction. "you say your grimoire can send hellspawn to earth, why can it not bring humans back to it?" you think aloud, raspy voice still hoarse from screaming the first few minutes you were falling down. he tilts his head, you don't know how else to describe his body expression but ... owl-like. "you are curious, I suppose all humans are. the answer is simple: you're resisting the spell." he told you. your eyes bulged.
no way would you reject a spell to get you outta here.
"it's not you that's rejecting it, really," he hears your thoughts now! can he hear thoughts? is that what demon princes can do? "it's you, but its more something in you. as if you're meant to do something here." his tone is still even. "I will admit, what I will offer is uncharacteristically risky of me— but i cant help but pity you. so, I will offer you my hospitality." he sipped tea as your jaw dropped—tears threatening to pour as you felt your lips quiver at even the mere thought of your situation.
"I know it's scary, infact i do not favor this situation myself, but you will be taken care of, and under the protection of a goetia— you're secure." he assured, trying to appear less Intimidating as you shivered in absolute horror. there was never a scripture in the Bible about this, not that you know of— you don't know anything.
you didn't know how popular you'd be here.
you didn't know what they had in store for you, either.
you didn't know anything.
lord, be merciful. lord, be kind to me.
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— @edensown
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ghcstao3 · 6 months
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marine biologist au :)
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Soap almost misses the call from Price one unsuspecting three AM, but he wakes up in the nick of time.
He barely has his eyes open to press answer, squinting into darkness as he mumbles out some greeting before waiting to learn why in the world Price is calling him at this time.
“They’ve finally hatched,” Price tells him. And before the cogs in Soap’s head can start turning, Price clarifies, “The turtles, Soap. They’re finally out. Get your arse out here.”
It’s such an announcement that kicks Soap’s brain into a hard reboot, and suddenly he’s flying out of bed and running for his car keys, barely caring that he’s still in his pyjamas as he speeds down the road at this godawful hour. He doesn’t remember when Price or he had hung up, just knows he needs to get to the beach, and now.
The team had had their eyes on a particular bale of sea turtles since they’d laid their eggs, and had waited for so long for the hatching with continuous efforts to make sure all would go perfectly undisturbed. He couldn’t afford to miss this.
And it seems, arriving to the spot, that other scientists had a similar idea. That, or Price had called them, too.
Soap finds the man with just a bit of difficulty between the silhouettes of the small group standing a ways from little black specks crawling through the sand. He claps Price on the shoulder, whispering his excitement as his eyes adjust to the bright moonlight.
“Incredible,” Soap murmurs. He hasn’t felt wonder like this in ages, even if this isn’t the first time he’s witnessed such an event.
There’s just something so special about it.
“I’ll say,” Price whispers back, that same wistfulness.
Except… it’s not Price. Still tall and wide shoulders and rough voice, but… decidedly not Price.
Soap nearly jumps back, recoiling when he realizes he’s been hanging off a stranger’s shoulder in lieu of an old colleague’s. The stranger seems to realize the mistake without ever taking his eyes off the baby turtles, laughing quietly under his breath.
“I’m so sorry,” Soap says. “I thought—“
“Thought I was someone else?” The stranger replies, not unkindly. He angles his head just enough for Soap to catch the outline of his face in the silver glow of moonlight. “I think I can forgive you. We’re all half-asleep, anyway.”
Soap can feel a blush raging across his face, thankful for the cover of night to hide its tint. Even so, he ducks his head as the stranger goes back to watching the hatchlings. Soap takes the opportunity to do the same, though putting some distance between himself and the man, this time.
Eventually, though, their shared silence feels like too much with the hushed chattering of others surrounding them. Soap taps the man lightly on the shoulder and says, “My name’s John.”
“Simon,” Soap is told.
The quiet feels more comfortable, after that. And as time goes on and more and turtles make it out to sea, the other voices seem to die down as well.
It’s not until everyone is certain all of the hatchlings have made it that the group of scientists begin talking again, still quiet, but now above a whisper. Simon finally fully turns to face Soap, who thinks he may be experiencing his second bought of wonder that night, seeing Simon’s face in the dim light.
“It was nice meeting you.” Soap smiles softly up at Simon. “Do you think we’ll see each other again?”
Simon nods, shoving his hands in his pockets. Once glance tells Soap that he’d been rudely awakened as well, and somehow he finds comfort in it.
“I’m sure we will,” Simon says. “Especially since Price is in both our circles. You should probably go find him, by the way. Since—“
Soap groans, burying his face in his hands. “Please don’t remind me. I’m sorry again.”
Soap peeks through his fingers just as Simon grins at him, something almost bashful. “Don’t be. I liked your company. Have a good night, Johnny.”
Johnny.
Soap’s ears burn as Simon walks away. He sort of wishes a crater would open up in the sand and swallow him whole.
He should go find Price.
But… in a moment. Soap can reminisce on his brief encounter with Simon for just a few seconds longer.
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vanwritesfan-fiction · 4 months
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Hii love<3 i hope everything is fine🫂
So the other day i accompanied my brother to pick up my niece from kindergarten and she went out with a boy was he carrying her backpack, that was nice 🥹 but i also saw my brother almost have a heart attack because she is his little girl (that was funny lmao) i thought it would be nice - fun something like that with Jack🥹🫶🏻 you can take it if you want (no pressure only yesterday i remembered it while i was reading that petition where B was talking about Patrick)
Sending you lots of love and hope you are having a good week🫶🏻🫶🏻ily😙
Hi love! Thank you so much, I am doing well and I hope you are too! This idea is so cute, thank you for sending it in!
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'Are we good? I've got somewhere to be." Jack looked up from his phone at Nemo who was focused on the control board. "Your last verse was a little pitchy, wanna run it again?"
"I like pitchy, its my new sound." Jack joked as he checked the time on his phone, his leg jiggling up and down nervously.
Nemo gave Jack an incredulous look. "Man, what's going on with you? Any other time, if I called you pitchy you'd cuss me out and you've checked the time on your phone like five times in the last 10 minutes."
"He's got a date with his girl", Urban chuckled from his spot across the room. "Girl? I thought your wife was out of town", Nemo asked as he looked between the two of them. "My other girl, Liyah. Its just us this weekend so I'm gonna pick her up from pre-school and take her on a daddy-daughter date today."
A low rumble of "aws" echoed across the room, making Jack blush. "I can still take five minutes to cuss you out if ya'll don't stop", Jack warned as he got up and grabbed his things before heading out the studio, Nemo and Urban busting into laughter as soon as the door shut.
Luckily, Jack timed it just right so he was first in the carpool line with a perfect view of the door so he could see when Aaliyah came out. He answered a couple of work emails while he waited for school to end, jumping out of the car as soon as the bell rung to join the group of waiting parents. Jack rarely got a chance to pick the girls up from school, so he didn't recognize but a few parents he'd met when Aaliyah had a playdate, giving them quick waves hello.
"You must be Jack. Aaliyah talks about you all the time." Jack turned on his heels to acknowledge a voice behind him, coming into contact with a parent he knew he'd never met before. "Hi, I'm Sarah, Parker's mom." Jack took the extended handshake as he slid his phone in his back pocket. "Nice to meet you, Jack Harlow."
"Oh, I know all about you. Parker and Aaliyah have become good friends this year so I've heard all about your music career and how cool of a guy you are." Jack gave Sarah a gentle smile. "I guess paying your daughter does work after all", he said in jest, quickly backtracking when Sarah's face fell.
"I'm kidding, promise I don't pay my children to talk about my career", he bit at his bottom lip, wishing he hadn't made that joke. "Sure", she muttered, taking a step back.
Jack made a mental note to tell you to avoid Sarah in the future, quickly getting over his embarrassment as a bunch of kids came running out. He spotted Aaliyah within the busy crowd, her messy curls up in two ponytails, her face in that beautiful smile that reminded him of you. He took his eyes off of her for a second when he felt his phone buzz, checking his text messages in case it was work related.
"Daddy!" The smile that formed on Jack's face at the sound of Aaliyah's voice quickly turned into a scowl as he saw that she wasn't alone, holding the hand of a little boy her same height as they walked toward him. His breath hitched at the sight, his chest tightening as he tried to keep his composure. "Hi Daddy! Look, I colored you a picture!" She shook the pink construction paper in front of Jack, but he was to preoccupied trying to figure out who this boy was that was holding his precious baby girl's hand.
"Who's this, Liyah?" Jack dropped to his knees to be at eye level with his daughter, taking her backpack from her. "This is Parker! He's my boyfriend!" It took everything in Jack not to pass out on school grounds, his grip on her bag tightening. "Hi, Mr. Jack!", Parker answered, jumping up and down, swinging their arms between them.
"Hi, Parker", Jack mumbled, watching Sarah approach out of the corner of his eye. "Aren't they so cute? They think they're boyfriend and girlfriend", she chuckled, reaching out for Parker, who took her hand. "I wouldn't call it cute, but what do I know?", he gritted out between clenched teeth. Jack didn't mean to sound argumentative, but he sent off a pre-schooler to school this morning and he was picking up a teenager. "Alright baby, let's go." He gave Sarah a weak smile as he grabbed his daughter's hand.
"Bye Parker! I see you soon!" Aaliyah broke away from Jack to give Parker a hug before catching back up with him. "Yeah, bye Parker, see you never again." Jack mocked as they walked to the car, his face scrunched up in irritation.
****
"Baby, we need to find a new preschool for Aaliyah." Jack stroked his beard, his gaze focused on the ceiling. He had his phone rested on his chest as he laid in bed talking to you, the house quiet with Aaliyah asleep.
You chuckled, rolling your eyes, even though he couldn't see you. "Like hell we do, Jack. We were on a three year waiting list for that school. What happened?"
"Parker." Jack grumbled out, making you laugh out loud. "Ah, so you finally met Parker." That made Jack quickly shoot up. "You knew about him?"
"About your three year old daughters harmless little boyfriend? Yes, yes, I did." Jack scoffed, throwing himself back down on the pillows. "I don't know about harmless, baby. They were holding hands and everything."
"Jack, please, don't start. Liyah is only three years old, she thinks she's in love with every boy she meets because that's all she knows." The only thing Brooklyn and Aaliyah knew about love at a young age was from watching you and Jack, who even so many years later were still head over heels in love with each other. It set a great example, but they were both so young and didn't understand different types of relationships yet. "She sees the way we are around each other, and thinks that how you act with people you love."
"I guess", Jack sighed, running a hand through his hair, "it just made me realize she's not my baby anymore."
"Jack, you're getting way ahead of yourself. She is only three, she still needs you for pretty much everything, and she loves you so much more than she does anyone else, including her boyfriend." You threw that in knowing that would irritate him, hearing Jack shiver over the phone. "Stop using that word, please."
"Fine", you giggled, "but you still have plenty of years before you have to worry about any real boyfriends. Plus, I'm pretty sure Parker is your biggest fan."
"What does that say about me, that my biggest fan is a toddler?", Jack asked, but you chose to ignore his quip. "So we can stay at this school?"
"Yes, we can stay at this school. We do have to avoid Parker's mom, Sarah, though." That caught your attention. "Why? I like Sarah. We're on the PTO together."
Jack let out a nervous chuckle. "She may or may not think that we pay our daughters to talk about how good of a rapper I am."
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cherrycoloredfaith · 2 months
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BEAUTIFUL artwork for Kiss Off by my beautiful friend Ashley!!! she's so talented and beautiful thank you SO MUCH for being a part of this @ash-yuh
Kiss Off
pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 5
Chapter 4
He left the bar first and set off down the road alone, getting to his car in a matter of minutes. He didn’t know where he was going, just that he needed to breathe again. Driving aimlessly for nearly twenty minutes he realized he was leaving the city, going to the only other place he knew: Munson Construction. The storm clouds in his head that had vanished at the bar returned on the drive. The roads were dark, but the air was clearer out here, and Steve couldn’t get enough of it. The wind wrecked his hair, whipping it around as he took deep breaths. Steve wondered if he should just book it to Hawkins and give up on all this. Wondered if he was ever really meant to leave his hometown. Wondered if he really messed up and should have just married that girl from high school. 
Parking in that same red dirt parking lot, he didn’t ask himself what he was doing because there was no point. He was going to wait it out, stay out of Robin’s hair and give her no reason to worry. Getting out of his car, he headed towards the front to lean on the hood and look out into the surrounding woods that reminded him of home. Except you could see right through them to the street lights beyond the thin cluster of trees. If he was in Hawkins, he could have looked out on a number of lakes within a few miles. Perfectly hidden and perfectly alone. Even out here, he could still hear distant cars from the busy highways, pulling him out of his reveries.
Steve wished he had a pack of cigarettes. Smoking never really tempted Steve until moments like these, where he was alone, searching for some sense of peace.  Pausing, he remembered the key to the clubhouse sitting in his pocket.
Maybe Eddie had some in his locker or office somewhere? Would it hurt to take just one?
Steve tossed his keys in the air, caught them, and thought once again, fuck it, they gave him a key anyway, right?
A single light illuminated the steps going up to the door, the screen door slamming against Steve’s back as he bent to unlock the deadbolt. Once inside, he felt along the wall for a light switch and failed. 
In the dark, his outstretched arms led his way around to the lockers, trying to use what little light came from outside the doorway. The red hard hat was the second locker from the right if his memory served him correctly, so once his hands made contact with the wall of open shelves, he started to rummage. He felt a small, soft cardboard box in the back of the highest shelf, thought, yes, and fumbled to open it in the dark. Just one. 
Steve heard a creak of the floor and his head snapped up, trying to adjust his eyes to the dark hallway beyond that led to Eddie’s office. Nothing but pitch black.
Suddenly, a yell rang out–no, more like a battle cry. The lights came on in a flash, giving Steve just enough time to register the baseball bat swinging for his head. He cowered down, covering his face with his arms as he shut his eyes tight, preparing for the blow. 
When none came, Steve peaked out of one eye at the scene before him. There stood Eddie, in Garfield pajama pants, bat still raised high, and hair coming out of its bindings–a look of utter confusion cast upon his face. 
“Whoa, dude, what the fuck?” Steve exclaimed once he’d found his voice. Is this guy going to kill me?
“Me, what the fuck? No, you, what the fuck?!” Eddie retorted, not moving to lower the bat. He looked from Steve’s face to his hands where he still clung to the pack of smokes. “Did you come all the way out here for those? I could have told you where to get your own. Jesus fucking Christ.”
“No, Eddie, God, I was just–” Steve realized he didn’t have a good explanation for this situation other than the truth. “Look, my roommate needed me out of the apartment for a bit, I was just driving around, looking for somewhere to go and I ended up here.” He shrugged. “And I wanted something to do. What are you doing here?” Steve was pointedly not looking at Eddie’s silly pajama pants. The last thing he needed was to be punched by his boss for laughing at his sleepwear.
“Shit, well, no fucking point now,” Eddie sighed and rested the bat on his shoulder. “I live here, asshole.” 
Steve didn’t know what to say to that, so he picked the first question that popped into his head. “Oh. So… do you normally go to sleep at 10:30 on Friday nights?”
Shutting his eyes, Eddie finally dropped the bat to his side, and Steve could breathe again. When he opened them again, he glared at Steve. “For your information, I was watching a goddamn movie.”
It finally clicked. “Why didn’t you say you lived here before? I thought that was your office,” said Steve, looking towards the dark hallway.
“Because not everyone knows. It was supposed to be a temporary thing, I just didn’t want to stay with Wayne anymore, and it was convenient. I pay him rent, but it’s nothing like what the city would cost me.” He looked defensive. 
Steve just nodded, unsure of what to make of it all. Before he knew it, Eddie had walked back into his office–bedroom– and then returned with one shoe on his foot, the other in his hand, his bat nowhere to be seen. He hopped down the hallway trying to pull the other sneaker on.
“Alright,” said Eddie when he succeeded. “Come on, then.”
Steve didn’t move as he passed by, wafting a soft, sweet scent from his clothes. “Huh?”
“You need to waste some time, let’s waste it.” He was leading Steve through a door he hadn’t noticed before leading out of the kitchen. He grabbed a tin lunchbox as they headed outside. Steve followed as if on autopilot onto a surprisingly cozy, covered back porch, fit with a table, chairs, and even a couch and coffee table that made up for the missing furniture inside. It looked homey. 
Eddie set the box down to plug in some string lights that provided enough illumination for them to see one another. They sat on opposite sides of the couch; once Steve saw Eddie prop up his feet, he did, too, hoping to give any semblance of a relaxed state–when, really, his heart was hammering in his chest. 
When Eddie opened the lunchbox in his lap, Steve immediately got a whiff of what was inside, and he prayed a silent thank you to whatever fates led him here. Eddie looked over at Steve with a grin. “You seemed like you’d need something stronger than those.”
That was the second time Steve forgot about the cigarettes clutched in his palm; he decided to set them down and nod as a sign of his gratitude. 
Then, Eddie started to roll his own joint as if he’d done this a million times. Steve even saw that he had proper rolling papers. He watched him with fascination while Eddie focused on his task. No words were spoken between them, but something about the silence felt comfortable. No, not comfortable, but… anticipating.  Steve stared in awe at how relaxed he was, delicately licking the edge of the paper to hold it closed. Eddie’s hair was almost completely out of the low bun it was in and long strands dangled down, creating a curtain around his eyes. Steve had the urge to brush it aside.
“How’s the sunburn?” Eddie asked. 
“The what?” Steve blinked out of his trance. His heart was pounding. 
“Dude, you’ve got to snap out of it. Did I scare you that bad?” Eddie leaned in, searching Steve’s eyes for something.
“No, no, I’m fine, I swear. Thank you.” What was he thanking him for? Steve was screaming at himself on the inside, begging him to regain his cool. “I’m so sorry–for barging in like this. I can go, you don’t have to let me stay.”
“I know, Steve. It’s cool. To be honest it gets… a little lonely living out here, not being in the city. Your presence is welcomed, for now.” He shot Steve another smile and began to light the end of the joint. Steve starts to wonder if Eddie has already done this once tonight based on his low, honeyed voice, the slightest glaze over his eyes. 
“Where’s Wayne’s?” wondered Steve.
“Closest suburb to the east of here. Not ten minutes down the road when there’s no traffic. I just needed some space to learn how to take care of myself, but still save some money.” He took a drag. “And to smoke without worrying about Mrs. Wheeler next door calling the cops,” he added, chuckling devilishly low as if it was something that actually happened. 
Steve took the pass, inhaling deeply, trying to hide his little coughs. “What movie?” he asked as he stretched his arm back out for Eddie to take the joint from his hands.
Eddie looked over and laughed. “Can you speak more than two words at a time?”
Steve rolled his eyes and snatched his hand back, moving it out of Eddie’s grasp to take another hit. “Fine, fine! I mean, what movie were you watching before I broke into your house?”
“Technically you didn’t break in, you have a key.”
Steve flushed. “That’s another thing to get back to. Are you avoiding the question?”
“Never. I was watching Back to the Future 2,” he said matter-of-factly, chin held high as he took back the joint, fingers brushing Steve’s, sending a shiver up his arm. “Arguably, the superior of the two films. With triple the Michael Fox. ” Eddie looked up at the lights dreamily. 
“Dude, what? You’re lying to me. The original is so much–wait, what?” he asked, caught off guard by Eddie’s last words.
He laughed, “Kidding, Harrington! So far, the original one reigns supreme.” He winked, but his gaze didn’t linger. “That was actually going to be my first time seeing it until…” he gestured to the two of them sitting on the couch. 
The confusion Steve was experiencing at Eddie’s implications caused him to flush again. “Oh,” was all he said in response. Maybe he should ask him if he’s into guys. “So why give out keys to literally your home? Does everyone have them?” Steve screamed at himself in his head. 
“Usually I don’t have to worry about anyone I work with thinking anything valuable is inside. Tonight I was sorely mistaken. And no, not everyone has one, but anyone needs to be able to get in, so…” Eddie shrugged. “It’s worked out for me so far. I keep my room locked too during the day, so don’t get any ideas.” He smiled.
Steve decided not to ask why he received one after his first day, and instead decided to change the subject. “My roommate wouldn’t really have kicked me out herself, but I knew she’d want the place since she was the only one getting lucky tonight.” Oh, God. Why did he have to bring that up?
“Ahhhh, are we in love with said ‘roommate’? Here on a feel-sorry-for-yourself evening escapade?” Eddie tilted his head to the side, peering at Steve through lidded eyes. 
“No. Seriously, it’s not like that. She’s my best friend. We went to this place downtown… near Pennsylvania Avenue,” Steve was cautious with his words, but he couldn’t help it. He had to know. “I forgot the name. Do you know any bars over there?”
Eddie met Steve’s eyes, but his were unreadable. “Yeah, I know of one. Did they play a lot of dream pop?”
“Yes!” Steve exclaimed, trying not to sound too overly excited that Eddie picked up on a similar detail as him. And appeared to have visited the same bar as him. This probably meant he was cool, but he still couldn’t tell anything about him. He should just ask. “Yes, that one. Red door?”
Eddie nodded, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Tell me more about her. Your roommate.”
Steve got lost in talking about his best friend for a moment. He was familiar with giving the usual exposition of how they met working at an ice cream parlor but had gone to school together for years. They were inseparable ever since, up until she graduated and decided to go to college, which Steve hadn’t got in. He was so grateful she was close by, but he always felt that he couldn’t follow. When Robin’s scholarship finally let her live off campus, Steve was elated to come join her somewhere new. 
“So, she’s the whole reason why you're here?” Eddie asked. 
“Kind of. She’s who really got me out of my hometown,” replied Steve, shrugging.
“Hmm, sounds like you might be in love with her…” Eddie repeated. “Why else would you want to move just to work such a shit job with such a shit boss?” He gestured to himself, topped with a sickly sweet smile. 
“Seriously, dude, that ship has sailed. Or never even made it in the water. Or doesn’t even exist. I don’t–I don’t see her like that,” Steve answered, not sure if Eddie could pick up on what he meant. The weed was starting to cause his thoughts to swim around in his head. “This was the only job I got called back for.”
“Oh,” said Eddie. The joint had sat forgotten between his fingers as they spoke. Now, Eddie lit it once more, taking a drag. Instead of turning his head to blow the smoke away from Steve like he had before, he leaned in, locked eyes with him; he blinked slowly as he directed his exhale at Steve’s face in a powerful gust. Steve groaned, made a face and put up his hands, pretending to be bothered by it while his stomach did somersaults; he had to fight to not stare at his lips. “Guess Wayne was desperate, huh?” Eddie kidded.
“Hah, yeah, I guess so,” Steve nervously laughed to shake himself out of the trance Eddie put him in. He knew Eddie was reasonably joking, but it wasn’t far from what Steve suspected was the truth. But speaking the words out into the world of his failures didn’t hurt as much with the weed in his system. It didn’t feel so much his own fault as it was the nature of the outside world. Life outside a small town. Simple truths you learn as you age. Finding a job is hard, being gay is dangerous, etc. 
A quiet silence fell over them as they finished those last puffs of the joint. It was comfortable, but Steve couldn’t help but feel the absence of the words between them. It was nearing midnight according to Eddie’s digital watch on his wrist. Was it really just hours before Steve overheard Eddie complaining about him? Saying he was going to “ruin everything”? 
Steve jostled at the memory, the same concerns from before settling in. He had to ask. 
“Eddie… What happened last summer?” Steve urged. 
Their eyes met again. When did they get so close? Steve could see the expanses of Eddie’s brown eyes. They suddenly darkened, and it was as if Steve was being pulled forward ever so slightly. 
Then, Eddie pulled his legs back, leaned forward, and propped his elbows on his knees, putting distance between them as if nothing had happened. He looked out to the darkness of the woods ahead.
“Nothing that actually concerns you. I’m sorry you heard me yell,” he revealed, defeated and ashamed. “This guy on my crew last year, he caused a lot of problems. Didn’t treat Max well either.”
Steve’s stomach flipped again; so Eddie was referring to him with that outburst. Steve wasn’t sure what this last guy had to do with him. He hadn’t caused any problems like that, right? He barely remembered what he did that day.  Steve paused, taking in the information; he had that same feeling again, that there was more to be said about his guy, but before he could pry further, Eddie interrupted. 
“Anyways, you might want to be heading back before it gets too late. You good to drive? I don’t have anywhere for you to crash,” asked Eddie. 
Taken aback, Steve nodded, feeling dismissed. They stood to walk inside; Steve paused to assess how high he was only to find he was hardly buzzed. He was surprised, certain that he felt so much more a second ago.
Steve couldn’t tell what Eddie was thinking as his face was blank when they walked along a dirt path in the trailer to the front door. Eddie held it open for him as Steve tried to think of something to say.
“Thanks! For hanging out I mean, and the smoke.” Steve hoped he was successful at attempting to sound casual. In return, Eddie gave a familiar grin, nodding once and shutting the door behind him without another word.
Steve stood there for a moment, wondering why bringing up this guy set Eddie off so badly. He wished he could have stayed for longer, but it was getting late. Sighing, Steve brushed off his nerves and walked towards his car to head home. 
As Steve drove that evening, despite abruptly being sent home, he couldn't help but to be hopeful. Steve could drop the whole last summer issue if Eddie could. He imagined himself enjoying himself at work, making Eddie laugh, making him proud. Becoming his friend. Really learning how to do the work. He smiled to himself as he walked up to his apartment. He didn’t even feel so lonely when giggling drifted up from under Robin’s door. Steve went to bed in his new room finally feeling a little at peace. He fell asleep to the image of Eddie’s smile behind his eyes. 
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aezuria · 13 days
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*ੈ✎ fall with grace.
╰┈▸ a glimpse into jason's last moments.
╰┈▸ warnings: gore
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jason didn't want to die. he realized this too soon, for the decision still dangled before him, life and death on the same side of the same coin. and too late, for the decision was already made for him, the life he could have lived displayed cruelly every time he blinked, in flashes of another, better universe. one where all his friends were really his friends, one where his father had a heart and his mother loved him, one where he wasn't always second best, one where he remembered.
and for a moment, the yearning he felt deep in his heart was enough to spur him forward, his body jerking upright to chase the dream he craved. but dreams were just dreams, jason of all people should have known.
his adrenaline-high came crashing down, tugging him along with it. his knees came crashing down onto the rubble, bruised and bleeding, yet they still managed to hold him up, as if reminding him there were still some things worth fighting for.
jason's hands shook, but his fingers refused to unravel from their tight grip on his sword. his friends, he had to protect his-
the piercing of metal against his skin broke him out of a loyalty-induced rush. he looked down at the bloodied tip, heard the screaming of apollo and piper in the background. it was fatal. the decision has been executed.
he felt his lips move, heard his voice say, "go, remember." do what i couldn't do.
and still, he couldn't swallow the pang of sadness as he watched his friends leave him to die. but it was what he wanted, right? casualties, sacrifices, were normal in the battlefield. he was just another one of them leading up to the greater good.
his arms shook as he pulled himself against the rubble, driving the spear deeper into himself. he bit his cheek to suppress the sound of pain he was sure to make, not wanting to show a hint of weakness even as he was stripped bare of his strength for no one to see.
he laid there, chest heaving as he gasped for air, only to be met with blood spurting back up his throat. pain seared through him, like bugs crawling the lining of his intestines, razor-sharp mandibles breaking through and pouring out in a pool of red. deep shudders of breath racked his body, lungs spasming of their own volition, as if his body yearned to live despite his mind's rationality. every shiver he took only enhanced the feel of the wood splintered through his stomach, only worsened the itching of his insides. and yet he lived, through the agonizing, bare minimum he was always content with, never in his life asking for more. (but just this once, he begged for a god, any god, to just take away his suffering, please?)
he was met with silence, not the blissful sweetness of darkness clouding his vision, but the loud silence of his ragged breathing, the squelch of his gut churning. the gods were cruel beings, after all. yet another reminder that jason was never made to fall with grace.
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librarian's annotations: its 1 am and i wrote and this in one sitting and bag of bones is playing and yeah (this is a distraction for the fact that i havent posted a fic in ages) @jgracie @pinkdiorluvr i think u guys like jason angst??
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bloodblotz · 3 months
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Task From Heaven
Hazbin Hotel x Angel!Reader
Post Hazbin Hotel Season 1
The reader is an angel from heaven tasked by the Heavenly Courtroom to aid the Hazbin Hotel and its goal on rehabilitating Sinners.
Part 2
You sit on the edge of your bed, admiring the decor and wondering just how much red could be used before it became too much.
The red carpets, bed covers, and wallpapers stare at you.
Apparently not a lot for an angel like you and a lot for Hell. Just another thing you’d have to get used to, alongside the heat, smell, and the people.
A rapid knock comes to your door but before you can get up to answer the knocker bursts into the door instead. You blink in surprise as the princess comes to view, a smile spread across her rosy cheeks.
“Y/N! Hey, so sorry to just bust through in like this but—” she takes a moment to skip in place, squealing quietly to herself. “Ooh, I’m just so excited! To think that Heaven finally sees what I’m trying to do here is just— so, darn, exciting!”
You smile, unsure of what else you could do.
“Oh, sorry!” The princess gasps, bringing a hand to mouth as she takes in your blank expression. “I didn’t mean to ramble. I just wanted to see how you were settling in!”
Your smile turns into something a little closer to sincerity. “It’s very kind of you to give me a room of my own.”
Charlie’s rosy cheeks turns even rosier at the praise. “Oh, it’s the least we could do.” She looks at you for a second, brimming with joy. “I’m just so— so… happy you’re helping out at the hotel. I still can’t believe that Heaven is helping us out.” She guffaws.
“Of course, your highness. Sinners are still human souls, no matter how tainted. It’s Heaven’s responsibility to still treat them with the care we hold for the rest of Father’s creations.”
Charlie’s face flickers, her once joyful attitude turning to something more bitter. The sudden change in emotion makes you tilt your head, but she then takes a deep breath.
“You don’t have to call me ‘your highness’. Call me Charlie! Everyone does.”
You blink. To refer to such a high status individual by their first name? Well, who were you to tell her what she should be called or not.
In a way, Charlie reminds you a bit of Emily. Their insistence on the redemption of Sinners and cheerful attitude draws a lot of parallels that make you homesick.
“I believe that it’s time to introduce everyone to you! Since— you know, you’re now a part of the Hazbin Hotel.”
“Yes, that would be wise. It’d do good to know who I’ll be working with.”
Charlie beams.
Soon everyone is gathered at the parlour, waiting in silence as Charlie begins introductions. Charlie first slings an arm over the long haired woman who glowers at you. “This is Vaggie! Say hi,” she says the last bit towards Vaggie, noticing the scowl on her face and rubbing her cheek against hers. Vaggie noticeably softens at the touch. Cute.
“Hi.” Vaggie says, arms crossing. Her distrust reveals itself through her taut shoulders and hard expression. Charlie chuckles nervously at the tone as she moves on to a man with spider-like features.
“This is our only resident at the moment,” something mournful crosses her eyes. You remember that the other resident is in Heaven and wonder what’s there to be sad about? The sombreness is quickly vanquished, with her face lighting back up at full force. “Angel Dust.”
The man flashes a coy smile and a wave at you. “Heyya, baby.” His expression is flirtatious but you notice that he is just as tense as Vaggie.
“These are Husk and Niffty, employees at the hotel.” The ruffled cat doesn’t even signify you with a greeting except a slight tilt of his head as he gives you a scrutinizing look.
You look for the one-eyed woman that Charlie referred to as Niffty but she is nowhere to be seen, and it’s not because she’s short. Your eyes land on Charlie’s wide eyes when you feel something crawling up your back. A quick glance reveals that Niffty is on your shoulder trying to touch your halo.
“Niffty, no!” Charlie quickly snatches her off your shoulders, flashing you a nervous grin as she hands off the squirming Sinner to Vaggie. “I am sooo sorry, I—”
You put a quiet hand up to silence her and flash her a polite smile. “It’s alright. No harm done here.” Your placating response calms Charlie down just a bit as she turns to the last person who had been standing at the back for quite some time now.
“And this is Alastor, our host to the hotel.” Charlie proudly states, smiling at the other. “Without him, none of this would have been possible.”
Alastor smiles at you, a wide smile that couldn’t possibly be sincere, as he materializes in front of you in a vapour of black static. “What a pleasure to have an angel in our cohorts! To think that Heaven is actually taking an interest in Charlie’s unique dream is bringing me such delight.”
The way his eyes scan over you makes you feel uneasy. There’s a certain calculating gleam that you know that often ends in something sinister. You swallow down your suspicion and give him back a cordial smile.
“And I’m Y/N. It’s a pleasure to be of your acquaintance.” You look to the group. “I hope that we can all get along.”
“Likewise.” Alastor’s voice gleefully crackles in response whilst the others stare awkwardly at you, not quite knowing what else there is to say. Charlie looks on happily.
Introductions have gone pretty great, all things considered.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
Parts:
1 2 3
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g0kotta · 10 months
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Decade
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Even after a decade Shoko still loves you.
I don’t think I mentioned any gender here, so Shoko x reader. Angst to fluff. Love me some Shoko. Around 900 words
Her thumb keeps pressing down on a lighter time after time. There’s a spark, but no fire. Her thin hands began to shake as she gets annoyed at the old and cheap lighter she bought at the small shop near Jujutsu Tech. It’s run by an old and nice lady that just wants to continue her family business, but her children have no interest in that. It’s a sad sight, Shoko thinks as she gives up on the lighter and throws it away. Her back rests on the wall behind her, the same way the unlit cigarette sits between her lips. She looks up to the sky and mumbles something under her breath. Life hasn’t been easy lately. She had one too many patients come to her and all she wants is to relax. But the dark circles under her eyes, the ramen boxes in the trash can in her office, the now useless lighter are just a few signs that she doesn’t remember the last time she could do that.
Suddenly there’s a light under her cigarette and without even checking who offered her this lifesaving (how ironic as the cancer sticks are doing something way opposite) spark. She takes in a deep breath and finally feels the smoke fill her lungs. It burns. But in a way it reminds her that shes alive. She’s here. Still breathing. Then she slowly lifts her eyes up to see to who she owes this thanks and her eyes widen.
You stand in front of her. As beautiful as ever. You’ve matured. Your hands are now full of battle scars that tell your story, your face looks sharper, you’re taller and the soft smile on your face makes her heart beat faster. You’re obviously tired. Tired from carrying the world on your shoulders. Tired from being one of the strongest in your clan. Your hand moves away from her face and you put the lighter back in the pocket of your black leather jacket. The wind blows and moves your hair around with its gust. And Shoko thinks that you’ve never looked prettier. People should worship your beauty. Deities would be jealous of how you looked at that second.
Suddenly she thinks about the summer ten years ago. When you were holding her in your hands and whispering sweet nothings into her ear. Promising a fairy tale future where the two would be happy. Together. It was right before you broke her heart, leaving when someone attacked your clan and started a war. They needed you. But selfishly Shoko thinks she needed you more than they did.
“You look good.” You’re the first to break the silence. You grin but the smile doesn’t reach your eyes and Shoko frowns a bit. “How have you been?” Your voice is scratchy. Like you’ve been yelling for a while. And maybe you were. You were always strong physically but mentally you always needed support, which she understood. If she was the one in your shoes she would’ve probably gave up a long time ago.
“Hm.” She hums and looks you up and down, smoke surrounding the both of you and she wishes it could bring you closer to her. “I’ve been okay. Same old.” Shoko’s voice sounds more womanly, you think. It’s mature. It’s the voice of a mother that tells her children tales as old as time. “How are you? It’s been a while.” Ten years, Shoko wanted to scream. It’s been ten years without you.
“As good as a sorcerer could be, I guess.” You laugh slightly.
“Not so sure about that.” Shoko scoffs. “You’re not enjoying your time stuck somewhere in an expensive mansion with millions in your bank.”
“How do you know I’m not?” You tilt your head to the side.
“You wouldn’t be here.”
“I’m here to see you.” Shoko swears her heart stops after you say that. Her lips tremble a bit and she feels like a teenager in love all over again. Crazy how you can just show up and turn her world over. But she can’t let you do that. What if you slip away from her grasp again? Shoko couldn’t live with a second heartbreak. So she just nods her head.
“I’m sorry.” Your voice is soft now. “I wish things would’ve been different.” You sigh and look to the side, studying the nature surrounding you both. “I had to leave. My clan needed me. And I knew you deserved someone better. Someone who could actually stay by your side. I didn’t want you to worry about me too much.” You smile at her. “I wanted you to be with someone who could actually promise you their safety. I was living every day questioning my existence.”
“You’re an idiot.” Shoko puffs out the smoke of her cigarette. “An idiot to believe that I would ever love someone as much as I loved you.”
She feels you take her palm into your hands as you now stare into her eyes with so many emotions.
“Then please. Let me make up for all of the years we lost. I know it’s been a decade.. But my love for you always stayed.”
Shoko smiles and the cigarette falls down to the rock path. She steps one step closer to you and your lips touch.
For the first time in ten years Shoko feels alive again.
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pianokantzart · 11 months
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Shout out to @multicolour-ink​ and @chloecherrysip​ for use of their gifs: X X
First of all, I’d like to point out how ecstatic Luigi gets the moment they get their first call. I know that some suspect that Mario dragged Luigi into the plumbing business (i.e. that “you’re bringing your brother down with you” line from their dad), but it seems to me that this is fully both Mario and Luigi’s dream.
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Look at him! He is shaking with joy. He absolutely can not contain himself. He throws his recently-cracked phone in order to grab his brother by the shoulders and shake him before excitedly pulling him into a hug. His heart is all in on this company.
With their first job on the horizon Mario and Luigi race out of the restaurant, climb into their van, and start the engine. Unfortunately, it looks like the money that might have gone into keeping their vehicle in working condition went into that TV commercial. The van sputters for a moment before the engine dies completely.
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One thing I noticed is that when they get in the van Luigi has his seatbelt on, while Mario doesn’t. Mario is too focused on his goal to remember the details, while Luigi continuously has safety on the mind. Makes me wonder how many times Luigi has had to remind his brother to buckle up halfway down the road.
Mario tries a second time to get the engine to start to no avail. Luigi begins to panic, fidgeting nervously in his seat. “Oh no, we’re gonna be late.”
“No we are not!” Mario picks up the bag of tools and shoves them into Luigi’s arms before opening his door and bolting out. “C’mon, let’s go!”
“Hey! Wait up!” Luigi races after his brother, who forges on full speed ahead. Mario leaps over and dives through every obstacle in his way with little regard for anything other than his destination, but while his eyes remain on the road ahead he calls back to his brother, making sure he’s keeping up and knows which way to go: “This way!” “C’mon Lu, step on it!”
Luigi has trouble right off the bat. Rounding a corner he almost bumps into a business man crossing the street, and is so distracted by the near miss that he crashes into the garbage can Mario recently leapfrogged over, disturbing the cat rummaging around inside. Luigi’s successive collision draws the cat’s attention, and just his luck the kitty takes one look at him and decides he’s gotta die. (Jeeze, what is it with Luigi and animals? They must get stressed out by his anxiety or something.)
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Luigi continues to run into every possible obstacle while struggling to get the angry cat off his head, but Lordy he’s trying his best.
He accidentally knocks groceries out of a woman’s arms... but an interesting detail is that he manages to catch the grocery bag mid-air. Luigi’s clumsy and unlucky, but at the same time he’s got some decent reflexes.
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Of course, catching the bag doesn’t stop its contents from spilling out onto the sidewalk. He tries to do the gentlemanly thing and pick them up– but being still in crisis he gets his wires crossed. He haphazardly shoves half the apples back into the bag, throws the malicious furball in for good measure, and hands it off to the nearest person with a friendly little “here ya’ go!” before running off.
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Luigi finally catches up with Mario when he encounters an obstacle big enough to give him pause: a construction site that closed off the entire road. But Mario steels himself, regathers his determination, and barrels ahead once more before Luigi can catch his breath.
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“Oh Mario, what are ya’ doin’!?” Luigi sounds desperate, practically pleading with his brother to hold his horses, but he follows nonetheless, and this time– given the more dangerous terrain– Mario is making sure things are a little easier for him. Mario opens the gates for Luigi, brings down a ladder, throws a wooden plank over a gap... little things to help him get through.
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(Side note: I like how in this gif ⬆️ Luigi pauses a bit, trying to figure out whether or not he should apologize to the construction worker on his brother’s behalf before he just continues ahead out of fear of getting left behind.)
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 But at the same time, there are obstacles that Mario is able to avoid that Luigi can’t help but stumble into. While Mario swings along chains and runs across metal beams overhead, Luigi once again fumbles his way into everything and everyone. Again, he’s trying his best to be polite all the while, apologizing to the victims of his clumsiness and gently tiptoeing through the recently-laid wet cement in an attempt to minimize the damage.
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Finally they reach the end, and Mario is still calling after his brother. “C’mon Luigi, pump those legs!”
Luigi stumbles on, visibly panting. As he exits the construction site he attempts one last little formality on the way out by closing the gate behind him. “I’m trying... I’m trying! I’ve got bad knees!”
Conclusion:
When Mario is fixated on a goal he becomes reckless, so wrapped up in what he wants to do and where he wants to go that everything else falls to the wayside... except his brother. Despite his determination there is definitely a care and concern for Luigi all throughout, especially when the road gets rocky. At the same time, Mario doesn’t seem to quite see everything his brother goes through. I’m not talking about the “bad knees” line (that’s it’s own separate debate), I’m just talking about the usual bad luck Luigi encounters merely trying to run down a sidewalk. Though Mario has seen enough to be protective of his brother, he doesn’t handle Luigi with kid gloves. In fact, he holds him to almost the same standard he does himself, and I think Luigi appreciates that despite everything. When all is said and done they did make it to their destination on time... it just wasn’t the route that Lu would’ve chosen willingly.
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captain-mj · 1 year
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I really love your Selkie!Soap au. Maybe Ghost could discover a bit more about Selkie culture, and the generational trauma that Soap might have?
YES!! Love this! Direct continuation of the previous post
Ghost brought Soap a deer. Soap stared at it for a minute before laughing. "What do we do now?"
Ghost hummed. "I'll clean it and cook it for you." And you'll fall in love with me.
"I see." Soap smiled. "Need any help?"
"No, I got it. It's bloody work but if you want sit with me..."
So they sat together in the little shed, both mostly quiet but the radio was playing. Soap watched him work and Ghost tried not to glance at him too often. He wore a surgical mask but that was more for cleanliness than anything else.
They ate well, both of them sitting next to each other as the sun set.
Soap ended up stealing some of Ghost's off his plate despite there being plenty of food still in the kitchen but it was fine. He glared at Soap who only smiled at him.
A ringtone sounded and Soap froze. It sounded like a personal one.
Ghost didn't move for a moment, waiting for Soap to pick it up. Soap just stared for a minute, picking at the food for a second before remembering himself and answering.
"Hey, dad."
Ghost perked up immediately. He had heard next to nothing about Soap's dad. He wondered if he was a selkie too. Or something else.
"Yes, sir. I am on leave, but my..." There was a pause before Soap swallowed. "My coat holder commanded I come with him."
Ghost frowned a little, but he stayed quiet.
"Yes. It's new. I haven't had... Yes, sir." Soap was visibly wilting. "I am... He's commanding me back. Sorry, sir." He hung up after a second and quietly put his phone down.
"I take it your dad is not... good?"
"No. I hope you two never have to talk, but its best he doesn't know we're close." Soap rubbed his arm, looking tiny and cold. Ghost scooted closer.
"Are you alright?"
"It's how he always is. He was excited someone has my coat again. That I'm at your mercy. He's a fucking prick." Soap looked down. "My mom can't leave him or else I'd never talk to him again."
"He... has her coat?"
"Yeah. I tried to find it. Took a couple slaps for it. But I never could. Swear I tore that place apart looking."
Ghost pulled Soap closer. "I see."
"He's such a bawbag."
"Is she the only selkie you know?"
"No. I know a few. All of them are like her. Trapped in their positions. Either as a spouse or caretaker or worker or..." Soap sighed. "No choice. No control. Stuck until either the coatholder dies or we get lucky."
Ghost was quiet for a while before reaching over and pulling him closer. "You... want this, right?"
"I do. Don't worry. You gave it back. You're a good man." He leaned into him. "My sister got lucky. She's just human. My other sister is a selkie but dad... protects her a little more. I think it's because she's the baby."
"Coatholder. Is that what you guys call them?"
"Not the most creative name, but yeah. Gets the message across. For a while Master was used but... yeah, it felt just a little too degrading." Soap hummed and shoved the plate towards him. "He'll want to meet you. I can try to lie and keep you from him. I don't... I don't want him to know it's my choice. If he knows..." Soap started to breath heavier, holding on to Ghost.
"Johnny, you're okay. He can't do anything to you."
"It's not me I'm worried about." Soap said softly. "If he gets upset he takes it on her and..."
Ghost winced. This entire situation reminding him just a little too much of his own time growing up. "If your mom had left your dad, would you have grown up a seal?"
"No. She likely would've abandoned me." Soap answered honestly. "It sucks but that's reality. I would've been left with him and my sisters. Can't blame her. She didn't choose to have me."
Ghost frowned and gently touched his chin, making him look at him. He smiled awkwardly. "You know when I came back from the military, the first thing I did was wait in my mom's kitchen."
"Why?"
"For my dad to hit her. He did eventually. He always did. It was all the excuse I need. I dragged him outside and beat him to hell for it."
Soap looked surprised. "Damn."
"Mom kicked me out for it. But she didn't let him back in the house either and that's all that mattered to me." Ghost took a deep breath. "I should meet your dad."
"Simon. You can't beat up my dad."
"I could, but I just think I should meet him. I want to meet your mom too."
Soap didn't look convinced but he nodded. "Alright, Si. Alright." He kissed his hand gently, looking tired. "Mind if we go to bed?"
Ghost hummed. "Course not. I'll see you in the morning."
"I'll be in the spare room, of course." Soap smiled at him, a hint of teasing there.
Ghost followed him like a shadow until he got to his door and then went to his own room.
Once he was in bed, he stared up at the ceiling quietly. He thought of Soap's mom, the gentle voice on the phone and how Soap shrank back.
It must be hard. Trusting Ghost of all people with so much. Even now, the thought occurred to him that it wouldn't be very hard for him to take the coat back. Or even just hurt him. They were alone in the middle of the woods.
And Soap still trusted him.
If it was anyone else, he'd call them an idiot for trusting the Ghost, but he knew as well as Johnny did that Ghost was harmless to him.
Did those other selkies think their human was harmless? Was their first meeting them taking the coat? Demanding so much from them?
Someone had done this before. Soap had mentioned someone had taken it before. On purpose. Had they hurt him? Forced him to do anything?
The idea of a younger Soap being controlled the way Ghost had read about in those stories made him feel sick.
He got up at some point and like the needle on a compass, he pointed towards his north star.
Soap was probably asleep. He also used the spare for a reason. Ghost shouldn't bother him. There were boundaries for a reason.
Soap's sad eyes popped back into his head. The distant look when he talked about the past or the others he knew.
He didn't knock in case he was asleep.
Soap jerked up immediately. "Jesus, Ghost you scared me. Something wrong?"
"Scoot over."
"What?"
"Scoot over." Ghost repeated, staring at him. Both their eyes reflected the light, both finding each other easily.
Once Soap did move over, Ghost climbed in with him. He pulled him safely to his chest and held him.
"No one is ever going to touch you again." Ghost mumbled into his hair. "I'm never going to let something like that happen to you again."
"You don't even know what they did." Soap knew exactly what Ghost was talking about, like always.
"Doesn't matter." Ghost squeezed him. "Never again."
Soap let Ghost hold him, putting his head on Ghost's shoulder. "Get some sleep, Simon. I know you must be tired."
Ghost slept better knowing Soap was safe with him.
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thoughtfulchaos773 · 14 days
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Seven Fishes and The Timer Part Two
RECAP: The timer will be our guide in this chaotic episode. There's so much packed in and the alarm sounding off loudly is a marker of the important action or dialogue to watch and listen for- the timer is the beat of the screenplay Beats are action and dialogue that are emotional shfts- its what moves the story forward.
Back to it:
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6. Merry Fuckin' Christmas, bro TIMER -We're back to Mikey and Carmy, and Carmy saying don't fuck with me right now- it's turning us to another pile-up in Carmy and Mikey's relationship.
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CLAIREBEAR! TIMER serves as the anxiety Carmy feels, even when Clairebear is absent from the scenes.
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8. Don't fucking touch me! TIME serves the rising anxiety, and this is the longest alarm we've heard thus far.
After this scene Camy walks away and we're given a break from the chaos.
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The first time the alarm is absent as we're provided time to witness the connection between Tiffany and Richie.
For a while, we take time to watch the Berzatto's bond, and the timer becomes a background noise until
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9."I'm so glad we had this time together." TIMER. Donna's 3rd breakdown - one where she's disorientated and in a panic, the timer tells us we're back in the groove of chaos, and Jimmy reminds us that we only have so much time together, and we enjoyed the small peaceful moments between the family.
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A break in the beats- a connection and scene that establishes Mikey and Carmy's good moments together. What's bittersweet about this and Riches's scene is that he and Mikey are holding something back from their loved ones. Instead of being vulnerable, they still hold on to their pain, contributing to their relationships' demise. The timer being absent gives us a few moments to watch a real connection happen
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10. Donna breaks a glass- Now we're back to the chaos, and the worst ringing- 3 alarms go off in a short amount of time and add to Donna's rage.
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a second time when Natalie offers her help and Donna continues to have a meltdown, threatening to blow her brains out and declares no one would miss her. This is the first real tension we see between Natalie and Donna and it moves the story forward . TIME, it's a marker of what's to come at the dinner table.
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12. The timer goes off when Donna calms down a bit. It's giving a break as we go to the hallway to watch Steve check on Natalie.
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A break from the timer when there's A moment of connection between Natalie and Steve.
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13. The Final Timer- We've heard this story a million times. is a shift to the rising tension between mikey and Uncle le. The timer plays as a bookmark on this strained relationship. Uncle Lee and Mikey are one of the catalyst to the demise of dinner later that evening. They reach a breaking point in their relationship by the end of the episode.
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That's it for the timers, it's a guiding post and a bookmark for what's to happen at the dinner table later on.
Analyzing this episode, I'm really amazed at the direction, sound designs, and acting this episode and a background explanation into why timing is a factor Carmy's anxiety. For Marcus and Richie, there's a great relationship with time where it's a philosophy on how to live your purpose. But for carmy, it serves as antagonist of sorts. The only thing that stops his relationship with time is his connection with Sydney. Time is a theme of the show and conveys the different meanings. It's tension. It's a reminder to live life, and when you can forget it, if just for a moment is when time matters most.
I leave with this quote...
I give it to you not that you may remember time, but that you might forget it now and then for a moment and not spend all your breath trying to conquer it.-William Faulkner
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sinfulslytherin · 1 year
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Trigger warning: mature content
Summary: You tease Draco and he decides to get his revenge only for you to realize what you truly are for him.
(Angst)
Iknow how to treat girls. I took good care of Amara just yesterday when I showed her the guest room. Right?" Draco says as he tries to remind me of our steamy encounter last night.
A smirk plasters on his face.
I would have probably turned shy under other circumstances
but I turn bold in my drunken state and decide to play his game.
"You could've done a better job." I say as I smirk.
The dumb smirk he carried just a few seconds ago on his lips dissapears as soon as the words slip from my lips.
Narcissa smiles while silently drinking her wine, surely understanding the ambiguous conversation.
I finish my last glass in a quick motion and thank Narcissa for the day and especially the wine.
I am satisfied with leaving a dumbfounded Draco behind me.
I make my way upstairs while tumbling a bit from side to side.
I try to make my way to my room when suddenly a hand grabs my wrist and pulls me into the next best room.
It takes me a few seconds to realise that I am in Dracos room, pushed against his bedroom door.
I groan as I hold my head. The alcohol makes my head spin due to the fast motion.
"What's wrong, sweet girl?-Does your head spin?" Draco asks in a mocking tone.
"Fuck you." I mumble while still holding my head.
Dracos hand makes its way to my throat.
His fingers meet my throat and he gives it a gentle but firm squeeze.
I fail to supress the gasp that slips from my lips.
"What did you say? I could've done better?" Draco asks as his head comes closer to my face.
I laugh at his question.
"What? Did I break your ego?"
"I'd really like to know if that attitude of yours stayed the same if I face fucked you."
My eyes widen and a wave of silence washes over me.
My head keeps spinning but somehow I feel sober now.
"What's the matter doll?"
Dracos face moves even closer. I feel his hot breath against my neck as a shiver runs down my spine. His lips lightly brush against my skin in a teasing way. He places his knee between my legs and I start to feel the pressure he applies on my throbbing core.
A silent but audible moan slips from my lips. I let my body sink down to increase the pressure.
"Are you trying to get off on my knee? Are you that underfucked?"  Draco says in a degrading tone.
"I could ask you the same. Since when do you care about me and give me so much attention?" I ask while smirking.
Draco looks away while a laugh slips from his lips before he locks eyes with me again.
"Who said I care about you and not just your body? You know I hate Graham with all my guts but we can agree on one thing. You are pretty attractive for a pain in the ass."
My smirk is washed from my face. 
He laughs while saying so. I don't know if he still thinks we are teasing each other or if he's actually serious.
I lift my arms in order to push him away. Draco stumbles backwards as I open the door and quickly run over to my room and lock me up inside.
I don't know what I was hoping for. He treated me with so much kindness yesterday and he made me feel things that I have never felt.
 Maybe love. Maybe I hoped to get some love.
But love?-From Draco Malfoy?
I feel embarrassed as I remember the vulnerable state he saw me in. The way his eyes landed on my skin when I was touching myself.
I can only blame myself for being this delusional.
Maybe Graham was right and my destiny is already set in stone. I have no other option than to accept that I will never receive the love I crave for. The only thing close to it will be Grahams bipolar behaviour.
A tear slips at the realisation that I am trapped.
I guess I hoped for a hand to hold onto but it was just another rope.
Read the full story here~ Chapter:Vulnerable.
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amoremainslayer · 2 months
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OMG I WAS DOING THE LE SSERAFIM WORKOUT THE OTHER DAY AND MY WHOLE BODY WAS SO FUCKING SORE , I COULDN'T WALK PROPERLY FOR TWO WHOLE DAYS😭😭 which gave me the idea offfff GYMRAT!Seok Matthew Helping BEGINNER! Reader. I STRONGLY BELIEVE THAT MATTHEW IS THE TYPE TO SUPPORT YOU AND KEEP YOU GOING AND AT THE END HE HELPS U RELIEVE UR SORE MUSCLED BY MASSAGING IT AND JUST CONSTANTLY HUGGING U AND PRAISING U FOR HOW GOOD U DID🤭🤭🤭
💖
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GYM RATS - S.MT
Pairings : Seok Matthew x gn!reader
Genre : fluff, slightly suggestive, established relationship
Warnings : none
A/n : no because I realized I have like nothing written for matthew so I had to make this good😓💔
Not proofread!!
There you stood like a lost puppy, watching him finish his sets on a machine you didn't even know the name of. Matthew finished his sets with a soft groan, looking up to you from his sitting position "Whats wrong baby?" He asked, eyebrows raising in curiousity.
You pouted slightly "Those machines dont work" you frowned slightly and matthew let out a laugh at your cuteness. He climbed off the machine before taking his waterbottle "Let's try again" He spoke reassuringly before letting you lead him to that machine.
As you arrived, Matthew looked at the machine and back to you "How could not do that?" He spoke amusingly, looking down at the leg press.
You snorted and began explaining every little detail of what had happened "... and I tried my best to just lift this fucking plate with my legs, and trust me my legs aren't that weak, but it just couldn't work!" You put your arms in the air dramatically and matthew laughed at you.
"Have you ever tried setting it to a different weight?" He asked while raising an eyebrow and you froze, trying to remember if you did. You could hear him snicker before walking over to the machine and setting it to a lighter weight "Try again now"
You sighed, slightly embarrassed at your dumbness before sitting down on the machine and positioning your feet on the plate "Since it's your first time, you'll do 3x15 sets, alright? With each set we'll put a little bit more weight on it" He explained, positioning himself behind you.
You just nodded silently, before beginning to do your sets. The first set was no problem, but as matthew added some weight to the machine, you felt the burning sensation in your thighs rise. You let out a breath, trying your best to finished the second set.
You let the plate fall back to its original place with a soft groan "Can't we just do 2 sets for now?" You batted your eyelashes at matthew but he just shook his head "3 sets are nothing baby, so just do the last set" he said while putting his hands on your shoulder.
You sighed in defeat, positioning your feet on the plate again before doing the last set. You threw your head back slightly, your thighs trembling as you pushed the plate up with all your strength.
Matthew was watching everything from behind, biting his lip silently as his mind wandered to another occasion where you had looked like this. He shook his head, reminding himself you needed his support so he began giving you compliments and started counting with you.
"13... 14... 15!" Matthew clapped with a smile while you fell back spent out "You did well, love" He grinned making you stand up. At the sight of your legs trembling you groaned "I don't think the gym is something for me" you murmured and rested your forehead on his shoulder which left him laughing at you.
_______
You let yourself fall onto your shared bed, face stuffed into the pillow while whining. Matthew had encouraged (forced) you to spend another 2 hours at the gym with him resulting in sore muscles everywhere.
"I hate you" you groaned as you heard matthew enter your bedroom. You were the first one to shower, so you had to wait a little for him to finally join you. He just laughed, climbing onto the bed before sitting on your legs "Want me to give you a massage?" He suggested and you nodded eagerly, hoping it would get rid atleast of a little bit of the soreness.
With that he began slowly massaging your shoulders, earning muffled groans and moans from you. He worked his way down to your thighs, massaging them with his hand while listening to your noises.
It would be a lie to say he wasn't turned on, but he held himself back, not wanting to give you even more soreness. After he finished his massage, he pressed a gentle kiss on your shoulder and layed beside you "It'll fade over the next few times" He spoke, letting you rest on his arm. You snorted softly before sarcastically saying
"There's no next time, matthew"
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