#[ ❥ ]

[qquinntessential]

@murdcck​ is at the circus ❤️

Well, here they are again. What is it that people say? History has a way of repeating itself?  She always thought that was reserved for war or empires or fashion trends. The fact that they’re stuck in their own little loop that doesn’t take more than a month to play out again feels too minute to apply. And yet...

The floor presses against pale skin, having taken on the temperature of her body after being in contact with it for so long. She doesn’t remember what she’d done to piss him off this time, and she won’t any time soon. Not when the weight of him keeping her pinned to the ground has her mind floating away, spinning indefinitely as it tries to grasp onto the memory of each sensation he’d bestowed upon her. Tongue manages to claim whatever taste of him remains on her lips. He’ll kill her if she tells him how intoxicating it truly is.

Wrists that are no longer captured feel too light, so thin fingers find themselves trying to gain purchase wherever they can. Maybe her grip is to help her stay warm in the absence of sheets and blankets and pillows. Maybe its a silent plea for him to stay for once (please). Not even she knows her true intentions, but it doesn’t stop her from toying with the hair at the nape of his neck, innocence feigned just to spare her feelings for a moment. What have they done to each other?

The silence settles between them, but she’s never been good with silence.

“MATTY-- Matt. I, um...could you...”

Blonde tresses shake.

“Nevermind.”

[qquinntessential]

@murdcck​ - 14﹕ sender  places  their  head  in  receiver’s  lap .

It’s not often they get this; a moment of RESPITE after...well, anything, really. Certainly not after taking out the trash, leaving a criminal incapacitated on the sidewalk, welcoming every reciprocated blow as fuel for the next one gifted. Nonetheless, she finds herself sitting with her legs resembling a pretzel on his couch, the sweat soaking her skin all too familiar. What isn’t familiar, however, is the head that finds its way into her lap. Skyward hues betray her surprise, but lithe fingers spring into action, threading into MATTHEW’S hair, gentle touch repetitive. The shadow of her smirk filters into the words that float softly between them.

“Don’t tell me that little brawl tuckered out the BIG BAD DAREDEVIL.”

[qquinntessential]

@murdcck​ asked: 1) our muses reunite after receiver thought sender was dead. | SOFT(ish) ANGST PROMPTS

How long has it been? A few days? A week? A month? She doesn’t know. Time has seemed inconsequential since it happened. She’d just gotten him back and then all of a sudden he was gone (except this time it was her that’d lost him). People die all the time and she’s been the cause on several occasions. This is different. Blue eyes have been soulless. They continue to be as she trudges through the streets of the city, dark circles making a home just beneath them. She might as well be a corpse (she sometimes wishes she was, just to have their places reversed). Her lips have been devoid of their usual cherry coating, the grin she so often sports not even attempting to take its place upon its usual throne. She’s never been such a shell of herself.

The jingle of her keys in the lock sounds like shattering glass, as they always do. She finds no comfort in the place she calls ‘home’. Not now. Not since. The door latches behind her, she barely manages to lock it before she turns, ready to make another attempt at drowning her sorrows in substance and sleep (maybe she’ll forget it all this time; unlikely). 

She doesn’t know why, but instead of keeping her gaze trained on the vinyl floor, it floats upwards. It takes a moment for her to process the sight; a form silhouetted by the starlight filtering through the dirty window, a form she’s all too familiar with. Crystalline gaze widens. She must actually be going crazy. After all these years, this is what does it? 

Despite the disbelief, lithe limbs move of their own accord. Before she knows it, she’s picked up speed, running towards him. She’s sure she’ll end up going through the window if she doesn’t stop, but the shards never pierce her skin. Instead, she crashes into a solid form, his form. Arms wrap around him, fingers digging into wherever they land, scared that if they let go he’ll disappear. Shredded breath wracks her form, the sobs unable to fully materialize amidst the wave of emotions washing over her.

“MATT!?”

[qquinntessential]

@citysavior​ is at the circus ❤️

“LOOK; we’re both from here! Th’BIG APPLE!! We’re practically neighbours!!! I’m from Brooklyn and y’from...well, I’m not actually sure, BUT it has t’count for somethin’!”

THUD. Shit. There goes her entire argument. A suspiciously serious looking wallet lays next to where she stands. Blue gaze slides over to it for a moment before re-settling on the figure before her.

“...I was just holdin’ it for someone??”