#* ⌜☆⌟ * she’s the crackle of the static ⟶ study

[prtcts]

woyzeck quotes that remind me of hanako:

" Bitch. "

" You try raising someone like me in this world on morals alone. "

" If we make it to heaven, they'd put us to work on the thunder. "

" Everything's going dark on me again. "

" You go through the world like an open razor. "

" The Earth's hotter than Hell, and I'm cold. "

" What are you doing, staring at me like that? "

" Your eyes are like knives. "

" Put a knife in my guts if you want but not your hand on mine. "

" You little shit. "

" For cheap you can have your death, not for nothing. "

" Have you been fighting? "

[midascrow]

Alastor x Gn!Reader

Favoritism pt.1

part 2

————/////————————//////

Synopsis: the others notice a certain Deer Demons positive behavior regarding one of the staff. (Reader)

a/n: reader is portrayed as pretty meek and quiet. At least upon first meeting people, and I may continue that trait in part 2 or have them open up a bit more.

———————————————/—/——————

“Don’t ya think it’s kinda…I dunno..weird?”

Charlie’s shiny eyes snapped up from the sparkly cards and glue strewn across the living room table. “What’s weird?” Angel hummed, one set of arms crossed thoughtfully as his eyes swept towards the far corner, watching a certain Radio Demon quietly chat with one of the hotels…”staff” members.

“That Smiles, is so sweet on (Y/n) and not the rest of us?” His hand waved around dramatically, watching Charlie’s eyes widen as they spun towards the aforementioned duo, studying them for a moment for any sign of irregular behavior on the deer demons part. Although not much could be considered regular in regards to him

“I’m pretty sure Alastor is just as much of a prick to them as he is to everyone else.” Vaggie huffed from her spot on the couches armchair, a small magazine in hand that she carefully tried to cut apart for the days craft. Scrapbooking, if it wasn’t clear. “…your markers bleeding babe..”

“Oh shoot!”

Angel guffawed, bolting up right and letting his arms flail wildly in disbelief. “No way toots! Don’t you remember when he first brought them ovah? As one of ‘s lil “Helpahs”?” He turned, “Huskers you know what I’m on about don’t ya?”

The grumpy cat deflated with a sigh, setting down a freshly cleaned glass just to pick up another and start again. “That demon, plays with souls and sinners like no other shitlord out there. And that one,” his clawed finger shot out to point dagger straight at you “just so happens to be his favorite. End of story.”

Charlies lips pursed at that, a small shimmer in her expression that made Vaggies brow furrow in stress, watching her lover fall back into her own mind and remember the hotels first ever introduction to you.

—————

“Now my friends, I do have one more favor to cash in on. I expect you all on your best behavior in regards to them..” His red eyes lingered on Angel with a sneer. “I won’t take kindly to any damage done by your hands.” The static that swelled behind his words reached its peak, before muffling once a small figure materialized just beside him.

A clawed hand curled atop your shoulder and if not for the familiar chill, perhaps you would’ve jumped, but the buzz of static and the crackle of a radio was a comforting sound you had grown all too close to.

“Now, this sweet thing is (Y/n), a special little friend of mine who will help you, though- mainly me, keep the hotel on tip top shape- isn’t that right dear?”

Your gaze darted around, and the others watched as you barely made a peep before a gentle smile pulled on your lips and you nodded..strange for someone in the company of the Radio Demon.

“What’s up with them? Can’t talk or what?” Angel mused, almost rudely, winking under your watchful eye that was almost..freakishly intense.

Alastor hummed and buzzed for a moment, gazing down at you in thought. “No No, just a bit shy is all. Always on the quieter side…”

“That won’t be a problem will it?” The static fluxed and swayed around them, shadows scratching at the walls of his underlying threat, that cut through the air.

……..

The princess was admittedly worried by your timid nature. You were almost…paranoid in a sense, looking as if you wanted to melt into the floor at any sign of confrontation, friendly or otherwise.

But…she did notice you seemed oddly at ease around the Overlord. Sticking close, though typically he was the one following you around as you did..whatever it is you were brought over to do.

She was even reminded of one instance, where you had been scuttling around, a stack of fresh dishes held precariously in your clammy hands as you made your way to the kitchen.

Charlie had been too busy at first to notice, she was speaking with Alastor about the future promotion of the hotel, when the loud sound of glass shattering rang through the room.

All heads snapped towards the cause, only to spot you, wide eyed and flat on the floor surrounded by dozens of broken plates and glasses.

Seemed you had tripped on a loose bit of tile.

Now, Husker just had been throughly..scolded by the Hotelier for dropping a bottle just a few hours prior, so the patrons and staff watched with baited breath as the ever encompassing form of the radio demon stalked towards your dejected form.

Vaggie had drawn her spear right as the crash had happened, ready to step in at any moment should she need.

But the others could only watch in surprise as you were gently ushered to your feet with soft dusts off your shoulder, and a little snap of clawed fingers. The mess disappeared in a flash, and your uniform was carefully adjusted by the tall red deer who softly scolded you.

“Now now my dear. You must remember not to overwork yourself. Can’t have you in poor shape now can we?” His words were condescending at best, paired with the gentle pinch of your cheek, but for whatever reason you seemed hardly put off, simply nodding shyly and quickly darting off to continue your next list of….errands, the deers ears swiveled in your direction till you vanished through the corridor.

——/

“Do you think they’re-?”

“Fuckin?”

“I was gonna say dating..” Charlie trailed off uncomfortably, watching tensely as Alastor almost…”playfully” whisked you around the parlor.

“They’re not.” Husks gruff voice cut through, dipped in firm belief that he was right. “That fucker has an angle no matter what, and whatever special treatment they’re receiving is just to follow through with it. That guy can’t even conceptualize caring about someone like that.”

Clearly that incident was still fresh on his mind as he mumbled quietly about how he was cut off from all booze the following week to, help clear his “shaky hands”.

The others grimaced, Vaggie especially as Charlie’s big eyes welled with fat tears. “That’s..that’s so sad!” She wailed, collapsing into her girlfriend’s arms, her reaction subtly mirrored by Sir Pentious who had slithered into the conversation.

“Wh..why are we crying??” He hissed, greated with rolled eyes from the spider and cat, and a dejected sniffle from the princess.

“Al-Alastor’s never been in love!!” She sobbed dramatically, Vaggie cooing in her ear while her hand rubbed her back soothingly.

“Oh..?” The snake perked up, a confused tilt to his head. “But aren’t Alassstor and (Y/n) …?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out! He totally dots on them don’t he Snakes??”

The engineer nodded rapidly, scales shimmering in the dim living room light.

“I told you morons, they’re not and never will-“ Husks aggravation of the topic was clear, the scrubbing of his glass a tad more aggressive.

“But…I jussst ssssssaw them kisssssing the other day…? Up on the terrace?”

…..

“Ex-fucking scuse me?”

[elryuse]

Fuck It, You're Ours Now

Yandere Bae & Lily X Male Reader

I was a mere speck in the cosmic expanse that was K-pop, a solitary planet adrift in a galaxy of stars. Then came Bae and Lily, twin suns igniting my celestial existence. Their performances were a supernova, a cataclysmic event that consumed me entirely.

Their Seoul concert was the Big Bang that created my universe. As the stage transformed into a cosmic canvas, their eyes, twin black holes, pulled me inexorably into their orbit. In that moment, I became a satellite, forever bound to their gravitational pull.

After that night, I became a cosmic stalker, charting their every move with obsessive precision. Their concerts, their public appearances, became my pilgrimage, a desperate attempt to satiate the insatiable hunger they had ignited within me. I studied their laughter, memorized the timbre of their voices, and their smiles were the constellations by which I navigated my nights. I was a ghost in their world, a silent specter haunting their dreams.

Unbeknownst to me, I was far from invisible. Backstage, in the twilight zone of their dressing room, Bae and Lily whispered about me, their voices a cosmic symphony of desire. Their eyes, twin quasars, held galaxies of obsession as they dissected my every reaction, my body language a map they were desperate to explore.

“He watches us with such hunger,” Bae breathed, her voice a nebula of longing, a cosmic ache.

Lily, her eyes twin black holes, replied, “He is ours,” her voice a low, possessive growl.

I was their black hole, a cosmic anomaly that consumed them entirely. With each concert, their desire for me grew, a supernova of obsession building within them, a force of nature that threatened to consume them both. They began to anticipate my presence with a desperation that bordered on madness, dressing to impress, hoping to ensnare me in their gravitational field.

One night, after a performance that shook the very foundations of reality, I found myself backstage, pulled by an invisible force, a cosmic tether that bound me to them. The dressing room door creaked open, revealing two goddesses, their cuteness amplified a thousandfold by the soft backstage lights.

“You,” Bae breathed, her voice a cosmic whisper, filled with a desperation that chilled me to the core.

Lily's eyes were twin black holes, sucking me in with an intensity that was both terrifying and exhilarating. “Ours,” she corrected, her voice a low, possessive growl.

The room contracted into a singularity, the outside world a distant memory. I was trapped in their event horizon, a cosmic prisoner in their celestial cage.

“You’re cuter than we imagined,” Bae purred, her voice a velvet caress, laced with a hint of madness.

Lily stepped closer, her hand a comet brushing mine, her touch sending shivers down my spine. “Ours,” she repeated, her voice a low, insistent demand.

The room crackled with static electricity, a supernova about to erupt. Desire, a black hole of its own, consumed me, a cosmic tempest raging within me.

“You’re both incredibly cute,” I managed, my voice a distant echo, a feeble attempt to assert my own reality.

Bae's lips curved into a cosmic smile, but her eyes held a predatory glint. “Ours,” she corrected again, her voice a low, menacing growl.

Lily moved closer, her eyes twin pulsars, boring into my soul. “Closer,” she demanded, her voice a hypnotic command.

I hesitated, a cosmic battle raging within me. Fear, excitement, and an undeniable pull warred for dominance.

“Don’t be afraid,” Bae assured me, her voice a soothing nebula, but her eyes held a predatory gleam.

With trembling hands, I reached out and touched Lily’s face. Her skin was like stardust, warm and inviting, but her eyes held a possessive fire.

“You’re so cute,” I whispered, a satellite lost in her orbit, but my voice held a tremor of fear.

Lily’s eyes flashed triumph, but there was a darkness lurking within them, a cosmic void that terrified me. “Ours,” she repeated, her voice a final, irrevocable claim.

Before I could react, Bae’s lips met mine. Her kiss was a supernova, consuming me in a celestial explosion, but there was a desperation in her kiss, a hunger that went beyond mere desire. I responded instinctively, lost in the cosmic dance, but a cold dread crept into my heart.

Lily’s kiss followed, deeper, more demanding. Her tongue explored my mouth with a cosmic hunger, but there was a possessiveness in her kiss, a mark of ownership that chilled me to the bone.

We kissed for what felt like eternity, our bodies entangled in a cosmic embrace, but a growing sense of entrapment consumed me. When we finally broke apart, we were breathless, our eyes locked in a gravitational pull, but the darkness in their eyes had deepened.

“Ours,” Bae whispered, her voice a possessive echo, filled with a chilling intensity.

“Forever,” Lily added, her voice a deadly serious cosmic promise, but her eyes held a promise of something far more sinister.

I looked into their eyes, galaxies of obsession and possessiveness swirling within them, but there was a darkness at the core, a cosmic void that terrified me. I knew in that moment that my life would never be the same. I was a planet captured by two black holes, and I was theirs to consume, to possess, and ultimately, to destroy.

Time warped into a surreal dimension. Days bled into nights, and reality blurred at the edges. Bae, Lily, and I existed in a secret universe, a hidden constellation amidst the glittering chaos of our public lives. Our rendezvous were clandestine, stolen moments in ordinary places - a cozy café, a dimly lit restaurant, any space that offered a semblance of privacy.

These were our sanctuaries, our cosmic refuges. We’d slip into these worlds, shedding our public personas like discarded skins. In these moments, we were raw, vulnerable, and utterly consumed by each other. Their eyes, twin black holes, held galaxies of obsession, a cosmic hunger that never seemed to satiate.

Their touch was an electric current, a shock to my system that both terrified and exhilarated me. Their kisses were supernovae, consuming me in a celestial inferno. And yet, amidst the passion and the obsession, there was a fragile tenderness, a vulnerability that surprised me. They would confess their deepest fears, their wildest dreams, their darkest secrets.

"I can’t stop thinking about you," Bae would whisper, her voice a trembling nebula. Her eyes, usually filled with a predatory glint, would soften, revealing a vulnerability that was both heartbreaking and intoxicating.

Lily would nod, her eyes filled with a silent storm of emotion. "Every moment without you is an eternity," she would say, her voice a low, mournful melody.

My heart would ache with a bittersweet longing. I loved them both, a love that was as vast and complex as the universe itself. But their obsession, their possessive nature, cast a long shadow over our paradise.

Our nights were a continuation of our days, a descent into a world of shadows and desires. In the hushed intimacy of our shared spaces, our inhibitions melted away, revealing the depths of our obsession. We were a cosmic triangle, a dangerous and intoxicating equation.

Their bodies were constellations I longed to explore, maps I was eager to memorize. And yet, amidst the physical ecstasy, there was a growing sense of unease. The lines between love, obsession, and possession were blurring, and I was losing my grip on reality.

One night, as we lay entwined, the weight of our secret world pressed down upon me. I looked at them, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of the nightlight. They were beautiful, terrifying, and utterly consuming.

“I love you both,” I whispered, my voice a mere echo in the vastness of our shared universe.

Their eyes widened, a flicker of surprise and vulnerability crossing their faces. And then, as if in unison, they leaned in, their lips meeting mine in a passionate, possessive kiss.

In that moment, I was lost, a planet adrift in a sea of desire, fear, and obsession. Our love was a cosmic anomaly, a beautiful and terrifying force that threatened to consume us all.

[ersatz-ostrich]

See You Again

Chapter 1: The Coffin

Jason Todd x f!Reader

You were just a teenager when you lost your best friend, Jason Todd. Years later, your life is turned upside down, and you find your way back to him. He's changed. You've changed. But you wouldn't have it any other way.

[A/N]: Me? Publishing a Red Hood fic that's been sitting in my drafts for months? It's more likely than you think. Jason is such an interesting character and there have been so many takes on him and his story that I've lost count. All I can do is hope that I do his character justice, and that I can deliver something worthy to all of the Red Hood girlies (gn) out there!

Anyways, in this fic, f!reader is a researcher at STAR Labs Los Angeles for the Polestar program, a secret research operation investigating an ancient virus revived from the permafrost of the Arctic. She gets infected with the virus while trying to keep it from falling into the wrong hands—and that's when she meets the Red Hood.

Warnings: DC-typical violence

read here on ao3

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masterlist

STAR Laboratories Los Angeles

9:43:42 PM PT

The Coffin

You hated working in the Coffin.

The Coffin, as some of your coworkers called it—a cramped bunker of a cleanroom with thick concrete walls and vault-like hatches—was practically hermetically sealed from the rest of the world, and for good reason, too. 

The Coffin, STAR Laboratories LA’s so-called Sterile Research Unit, housed world-killers. 

They were all around you, housed in huge humming floor-to–low-ceiling freezers, in vials and Petri dishes. If one of those samples got out and contaminated the outside environment, you would have a huge, messy problem on your double-gloved hands. 

Located in the basement and separated from the rest of the facility by a sizable aseptics and decontamination unit, the only living things that shared the space with you were the dormant pathogens labeled and tucked away in the Coffin’s freezers. Chatter filtered through the radio comms unit on your lab bench, which you used to relay information with the rest of the researchers, your coworkers, involved in the Polestar study. 

“L/N, how are we doing down there?” A voice crackled through the comms. It was Dr. Davis, one of the senior researchers on the Polestar program.

“Hey, Davis. I’m happy to report that the Polestar vaccine prototype seems to be well on its way,” you reply, hearing the whoosh of your breath inside the respirator you donned before entering the cleanroom. “The vaccine seems to be pretty stable right now. I’ll continue to run tests.” You heard Dr. Davis’s hum of approval through the comms.

“Great to hear, Y/N. Just wanted to make sure you weren’t d—” It was an inside joke among the Polestar researchers that the Coffin was where bad researchers who half-assed their theses in grad school went to die. The sterile bunker was indeed a daunting place to run tests, with all of its doomsday-looking decor and freezers full of deadly viruses, but you had spent enough late nights in and out of decon to make the Coffin feel more like the world’s worst bathroom stall-turned-office cubicle.

“Dr. Davis?” You finally turned your gaze to the comms unit. “Dr. Davis, do you read me?” You could hear the faint sounds of commotion filtering through the comms; cacophony that should never be heard in a laboratory. “Is anyone there?” Someone started screaming—you recognized the voice to be Dr. Lee—and your heart jumped into your throat.

The sound coming from the comms unit suggested that the radio on the other end of the line had fallen to the floor. The speaker emitted more crackly yells. 

“ Doctor—” It was Dr. Davis. He was alive, but barely. The sounds of fighting rose around him. “Doctor—dammit, Y/N, do you hear me? Stay where you are and barricade yourself in the Coffin, they’re coming for the—” Dr. Davis’s voice cut out, replaced by garbled radio feedback. Right before the radio dissolved into static, you swore you had heard him howl in pain. You stared at the comms, heart thumping in your ribcage. You were beginning to sweat in your hood and coveralls and the respirator felt heavy on your face. You tore your attention from the comms to survey the frigid lab around you. The Coffin had been reserved by the Polestar program so you could test small lab animals to observe the virus’s behavior in living organisms and develop a vaccine for it, so most of the work laid out on the benches was Polestar’s. Cages sat in neat stacks, housing the lab rodents you had been studying. You could care less about the unbelievably expensive machinery or the infected rodents that could infect humans should they escape the Coffin, though; a dip into STAR Labs and the CDC’s research grants for Polestar would replace it all. Your eyes darted around the Coffin, eyeing the huge, heavy hatches that kept you encased inside the bunker. Whoever was outside, they’d have to get through aseptics and decon, which would keep them busy for at least a few minutes as they forced their way inside. 

“Oh, no, no, no,” you muttered to yourself as you swept glass vials and syringes around on your workbench into a cluster, creating a disjointed melody of clinking glass and metal. The rats began to turn restlessly in their cages. Your breathing picked up, coming out in short, shaky breaths as you ran from countertop to countertop, stowing away glassware still full of solutions and dumping solids into the trash—you’d get back to them later, if there was even a later for you. Screw how much that stuff cost by the gram, and screw how much time you’d spent synthesizing and isolating those precipitates.

No time to think about that , you thought to yourself as you rushed back to the workbench where your radio and the vials sat. You stared at the assortment of glass vials and syringes, panicking. They can all go in the freezer, right? Or the storage vault, or…

There was no time to think. You rushed to the freezer with trays full of vaccines and viruses alike in your arms, hurriedly punching in the code and scanning your retina to open the door to the walk-in freezer. The door unlocked with a hiss, and you silently begged the automatic door to open faster as you heard the sound of a squad’s worth of footsteps stomping through decon. Squeezing through the opening, you all but shoved the tray into the nearest vacant bottom shelf and sprinted out, hammering the button to shut the freezer doors.

You heard clanking against the entrance to the coffin, one, two, three…

A blinding flash of light followed by a deafening explosion shook the Coffin, and you instinctively turned away to shield yourself. You saw tongues of flame licking the entrance to the Coffin, flooded with red light. 

Oh, shit. 

How many of the substances stored in the Coffin were flammable? You hoped the explosion that blew the enormous hatch to the Coffin off its hinges and the flames that followed hadn’t reached far enough to hit the flammable substances storage unit. 

Behind the rubble of the hatch stood a cluster of black-clad figures, outfitted with bulky body armor and gas masks. They swept the Coffin with the muzzles of their rifles before stepping over the threshold and into the Coffin. You stifled a gasp and ducked behind one of the countertops, hoping that you weren’t spotted. Maybe you could find something heavy, like a fire extinguisher, and taken one out—

“Gotcha.” 

You couldn’t help the shriek that escaped your lungs as you whipped around, grabbing the nearest thing off of the countertops—a ring stand, luckily enough, and not something more expensive or fragile—and swung it in the direction of the voice. Your eyes widened as the heavy base of the ring stand failed to meet bone—and was instead stopped in its path by a strong, gloved hand around your wrist. Your hands shook as the hand’s owner, wearing a gas mask with round, reflective discs for eyes, lowered the ring stand with one hand and aimed the barrel of a handgun at you. 

“What do you want from me,” you choked out, your mouth feeling dry as you stared down the cold black barrel of the gun. The soldier chuckled, their voice—his voice?—deep and gravelly, muffled by the mask.

“Just your cooperation.” With a jerk of his hand, he lifted the ring stand, still attached to your hand, and forced you out into the open. “You know what we’re here for.” He wrestled the ring stand from your grip and tossed it away, the heavy thunk making you wince. He took your wrist in a crushing grip, and adrenaline shot up your spine. 

“I’m just a lab aide. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You replied quickly, not quite confident in your skills as a thespian (or a liar).

“Oh, yeah, Dr…” Still holding the gun in front of your face, they cocked their head to check your badge. “...L/N?”

Shit.

“You know how it is…the job market’s pretty tough for Ph. D.’s these days.” You chuckled nervously. “Seriously, though, I’m just here to wash glassware.” The soldier laughed coldly.

“You seem pretty calm for somebody staring down the barrel of a gun…I bet you’re smart. Bet you know a lot about all the super secret research in this shithole, too.” You couldn’t see it, but under his mask, his gaze settled upon something on the floor. “Maybe you could tell me a little about this thing right here.” You followed his line of sight and felt your blood go cold.

How could I have—

He nudged the syringe with the toe of his boot so that it rolled right to you. It took all you had to keep yourself from lunging for it. Your eyes caught the biohazard symbol printed on the label and you felt yourself die a little inside.

The Polestar virus was on the floor. The deadly ancient virus you had resurrected was in a syringe on the fucking floor. 

“Hmm, not sure how that got there—” Your words were taken from you when the barrel of the handgun made contact with the flesh of your chin, forcing your head back.

“Enough! Tell us where the virus is and maybe the actual lab aides won’t have to mop your brains off the fucking floor.” You grimaced.

“It’s right there,” You replied through gritted teeth. “In that syringe.” Keeping the gun’s sights on you, the soldier stooped to pick up the syringe. “It’s in a liquid suspension that was supposed to be for the rats. We were running tests—” You caught yourself rambling before you could divulge anything more damning. Maybe it was the gun pointed at your head and your life on the line, but you felt like your brain was out to lunch and had thrown out all common sense before it left. “—well, the bottom line is…just don’t break that syringe. The virus inside is viable and dangerous.” The soldier laughed again, this time more arrogantly.

“I don’t c—”

“I’d listen to her if I were you.” You, the soldier—everyone in the Coffin—turned to the source of the modulated voice. A huge silhouette passed through the sanguine lights of decon. The glint of the red helmet caught your eye first, then the red bat insignia splashed across the figure’s armored chest. 

Huh.

That posture—the way the helmeted figure stood to make himself look bigger—tickled the back of your brain. Your train of thought, however, was stopped short by your captor yanking your wrist and wrapping his free arm around you in a headlock. He trained his gun at the red helmet before you, who produced a pair of his own firearms.

“Don’t shoot,” your captor barked, and you realized what was in the hand that was clutching the fabric of your PPE. You struggled to break free, but the body behind you felt like a pillar with armor for cushioning. “Or she goes with me.” The helmeted Bat slowly lowered his weapons, which earned a smug huff from your captor, whose grip loosened on your PPE. You sighed in relief and started to extract yourself from you felt his arms quickly wrap around your neck again, making you cry out.

“No!” The helmeted figure called out. You heard the crack of the gunshot and the sound of the bullet meeting flesh. You felt warm blood—not yours—splatter on your face and trickle onto your coverall and you shuddered. You felt the soldier, impossibly heavy, slump over onto your body and slide to the ground. The gunfire of his squad mates erupts around you and you see the red-helmeted newcomer duck behind a glovebox and return fire. You dive for cover, watching the soldiers drop behind you. You see the red helmet emerge again to take out the last of the soldiers, engaging in hand to hand—these fighters seemed to be highly trained—and putting the occasional bullet through the weak points of their armor. The last bullet casing fell to the floor with a resounding ping! and you heard boots moving towards you once more. 

“Are you okay?” 

It hadn’t occurred to you why the soldier had held on so tightly to your PPE—you hadn’t felt the little prick in your collarbone when the gunfire had started. Dread pooled in the pit of your stomach as you slowly lowered your gaze to where the syringe stuck out above your clavicle, only dredges of fluid left, the black-and-yellow biohazard symbol turned up to the light like a bright and deadly flower. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[A/N]: We are hitting the ground running! Hope that was a good start to this fic.

Likes and reblogs are appreciated!

[amusingmusie]

lingering on the thought of nel being in the hazbin hotel with alastor for more than five seconds tickles me so much because all i can think about is just How she got there

because it does seem to me she has no interest in being there so the conclusion my head comes to is that right after the pilot alastor immediately just rockets across the whole city at mac 20 to drag a Very Disoriented Nel back to the hotel

all the while yapping her ear off about some Fascinating New Project he has so Graciously lent his Services to.

None of which actually registers in poor nel's mind at first because it just so happened that she got whisked away while she was in the middle of giving her lunch order to a particularly hard of hearing waiter

the prospect just tickles me so much theyr so silly

THIS IS FOR FUN ONLY AND NOT CANON TO YOURS TRULY

Strained Introductions

It’s going to be so amusing to watch this ridiculous hotel go up in flames. 

Alastor smiles smugly to himself, tapping his claws along the head of his trusty microphone as he studies the chaos surrounding him. After a sound lunch of his mother’s classic jambalaya, he’s content to sit back and watch the others face the aftermath of today’s immense excitement. 

The princess and her little attack dog are exchanging shushed words in the corner of the lobby, foolishly believing that he can’t hear a word about their argument concerning his freshly established presence in the building. Husker has already drunk himself under the bar much to the disappointment of that rather womanly spider who’s been adjusting his pectoral floof and preparing for incessant flirtations. Niffty, darling Niffty, is the only one doing anything slightly useful; she’s been speedily scooping debris and rubble into a trash bag for easy disposal.

A trash bag. 

Of course- oh, he’s forgotten something terribly important! How could he be so foolish? With a crackle of static that draws all eyes to him, Alastor adjusts his bowtie and pats down his hair to ensure it’s perfect as always. A quick twirl of his staff and he taps over to the front door, giving a quick, parting bow.

“Excuse me, but I have an errand of utmost importance to run- I’ll return shortly!”

The royal guard, Vaggie as she insists on being called, glares at him. “No vuelvas, pendejo.”

“How sweet.” A faded, crackling laugh track punctuates his statement. “Try your best not to miss me while I’m gone. Ta-ta, chums!” 

Shadows encircle him and swallow his spindly form whole, leaving no trace of the Radio Demon behind.

////

“I said cherry.”

“This is cherry.”

“No, it’s not.” Nel pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs deeply in exasperation. “I’ve been telling you for ten minutes that it’s fucking strawberry, and I do not want the strawberry. I’m asking for cherry.”

“Whatever, Karen.”

“What? What the fuck does that mean?” she snaps at the exhausted worker, only barely keeping her temper in check. 

When he flips her off and disappears from behind the bakery counter into a backroom, she clenches her fists with a pissy growl, not giving two shits if her talons threaten to slice into her palms. Nel promptly decides fuck it, stomps around the counter, and snatches up a slice of cherry pie for herself.

She still throws a few bills down on the counter, though. Old habits die hard.

The buzzing begins first. Nel’s skin crawls as the sensation of pinpricks washes over her, an unfortunately familiar fuzzy hum growing louder and louder in her ears shortly afterwards. The flashing smiles come next, along with distant whispers, full body chills, and a tug on her heart.

Goddammit.

She glares at the bakery door right as Alastor manifests in front of it with an accompanying audience cheer.

“Hello, sweetheart!” He wastes no time in snatching her up around her waist and squishing her dangerously near his less than fresh smelling armpit. “We must be off! I have the most hilarious, pathetic thing to show you!”

“Your picture?”

The loud boo doesn’t deter her from smirking. The shadowy tendril that snatches up her pie does.

“No, my gangrenous toe, the Hazbin Hotel! We have front row seats to its inevitable demise. Think of all the failures we’ll get to witness! The struggling souls clinging to the foolhardy idea of redemption, their inevitable fall back into the pit of despair- ah, it’ll be great fun!”

“Wait, Alastor, did you get your ass involved with that goddamn, idiotic scam? You just came back-”

“Ah ah, we are involved!”

“What? WHAT? No the hell we are not-!”

The bakery is ripped away and replaced by fading carpet, peeling wallpaper, and five idiots staring at the swirl of shadows occupying the center of the hotel lobby. Once the darkness fades, Alastor stands alone with a giddy grin on his gray face. There’s a beat, and then Nel falls in from the fleeting shadows, landing flat on her face with her wings awkwardly flattened around her. 

Angel Dust peeks over, mutters, “Eh, it’s a chick. Fat ass though,” then returns to scrolling on his phone. 

“Alastor, who the fuck is this?” Vaggie doesn’t waste a moment on beginning her tirade, temper flaring now that another uninvited addition to the hotel has appeared. 

“Nobody who is overly important! Sweetheart, mind your manners and say hello.”

Nel grunts and picks her head up off of the floor. “Shut your ugly mouth.”

That less than kind response has Vaggie starting up again as Charlie desperately tries to calm her down. Nel doesn’t interrupt; for all she cares, this girl can bite Alastor’s head off and she won’t stop her. The blonde one- the princess, she remembers- tries to say something to her, but chooses to play damage control instead when a spear is held to Al’s throat.

A little skitter reaches Nel’s attention, and she sits up, turning to the side to face Niffty.

“Hiya, Nelly! Killed any good bugs lately?”

“No.”

“Aw.” Her red eye expands eerily and her smile grows. “Read any real good steamy stories lately?”

“...Come find me later, Niff. We’ll bump gums.”

“‘Kay!” Niffty skitters off as Nel chooses to continue to block out the ranting at her side. Well, if Alastor has Niffty running around this dump, then that means one of his other favorite unfortunates to torment can’t be too far away. 

“Husk?”

A single clawed middle finger raises from over the top of the bar.

“Yeah, fuck you too, asshole.”

Finally, finally, Princess Charlotte manages to extend a hand out to her. Apprehensively, Nel takes it, not quite able to remain as pissy as usual in the face of this obvious kindness. 

“Welcome to the Happy- uh, Hazbin Hotel!” she chirps, beaming widely and so genuinely that it has Nel’s anger withering even further. “We are so excited to have you join us and begin your path to redemption! Okay, so, right now we only have Angel Dust staying as a resident here, so we have a ton of empty rooms, fully customizable-!” 

Nel holds up a hand, and sighs. “Sorry, but I’m not interested in checking in.”

“Oh, well, um, if you’re a worker of Alastor’s, then we can-”

“Worker? Please, he wishes.” 

“Then what are you-?”

“Don’t fret about it!” Alastor interrupts, butting in by physically shoving himself between the two women as Vaggie settles next to her girlfriend. “Nelly is here with me under my protection, and that is that! She’ll stay by my side, and handle my business.”

Talk about her personal circle of Hell.

“Ah, I almost forgot!” Alastor snaps his fingers, and the abandoned piece of pie lands neatly on Nel’s curly head, splattering her with red filling. “There we are.”

Nel reaches up, sticks her finger into the pie, then brings it to her nose to smell. Strawberry. 

What a great start to her waking nightmare.

[instarsandcrime]

Tuned Out

Oh gosh it's been uh. Almost a month since I've written something??? Well, I hope you enjoy this one! I loved the idea of a sick L/uc/ifer spiraling, and being broken out of it by A/la/stor's radio show because I'm weak to the idea-- though it can be interpreted as both platonic and Ra//di//o//A//pple.

And here's a quick heads-up: Though this is still the usual fluffy fic, the spiral paragraph itself is a bit rough. So I'm going to put a trigger warning below and in the summary when I add this fic to the list. If intrusive thoughts and vague thoughts of self-harm are too much, please skip the italicized second paragraph. You can still read the fic without needing to include this part, so don't feel ANY pressure to do so if you aren't/will never be ready. Please, pleeeassseee take care of yourselves!

Otherwise, enjoy!

TW: Intrusive thoughts, vague thoughts of self-harm

---

Burning. His skin felt like it was burning him alive. That was the only sensation Lucifer could feel. His tired eyes stared up at the canopy of his bed, face glowing softly with fever. Its flush spread gold across the embedded pearls above, making them sparkle like stars. He sighed, crackling sparks floating from his lips as thoughts poked and prodded at his overheated mind.

Fuck. He really was pathetic, wasn’t he? Can’t move, can’t get up, can’t get a glass of water, eat dinner, call Charlie– call. Charlie? Oh, poor Charlie. She must be so disappointed in him. He chuckled weakly, What would she even say to him that she hasn’t already thought? He could imagine it. He really could. ‘Seriously, Lucifer?! I literally meant nothing to you for years and now suddenly you waltz into my life? And instead of actually spending time with me, you’re calling from a room that could’ve gone to someone who truly needed it, ordering me to wait on you hand and foot like I’m your butler? Like our entire relationship meant nothing? You threw me away, and now you’re going to do it again?! You know what? You deserve this! You deserve to rot in your bed! Get as starving and sick as you want! At least now the inside will match the outside! You’re terrible! I hate you! No. No, you know what? I wish you got your second shot at Heaven. I wish you had at least a week of laughter, fun, and fucking fireworks so they could tear off your wings andyoucanFallalloveragai–’

A burst of static pierced the air, shattering the constricting spiral just before it could break him again– and replaced it with a new form of dread.

“Why hello there all you wayward sinners! Welcome once again to tonight’s show with your host: The Radio Demon!”

“Uuugh!” Lucifer groaned dramatically, snatching one of his many pillows to press over his head. 

Right. The stupid fucking radio. From under the shadows, the sickly demon couldn't help but glare daggers at the piece of junk resting on his nightstand. Alastor had requested those old, outdated mortal inventions for every hotel room– specifically from the 1920’s era because apparently he preferred style and substance. Whatever that meant. 

Regardless. He insisted that it was needed for announcements, communication, and entertainment. In other words– somewhere, somehow, Alastor was currently studying him and him alone with invisible eyes. Surgically scanning him at the seams for the slightest rip. The slightest tear. As if his prey wasn't the most powerful being here. Dramatic bastard.

“And how are you doing this fine evening, Your Majesty?” The radio sung.

“Go away.” The lump of fluff grumbled.

"Of course not! It is my duty as your hotelier to take note of every little detail of my building, no matter how tiny and insignificant. And I am ever-so-glad I have! It is quite the rare sight to watch our King of Hell lose face to a simple case of the sniffles. Truly a headline for the ages!"

An angry red blush painted over the king’s golden cheeks, immediately pushing himself upright. Towering wings puffed, pillows and blankets tossed about the bed as he went. "Now see here! Sinners get sick. Overlords get sick. Hell, Charlie and Lilith can get sick! Me? I’m just rehhh…Snff! Ugh, resti'g…"

"Resting. Of course. I suppose I will believe you for convenience’s sake--"

"Hhheh…! Het'shiew!"

"--oh! Bless you."

"Het'shhhiew!"

"Bless y--"

"Hep'shhhh! 'Etshhh! 'Tshhh! 'Tshhh-'tshh-'tch! ...HhhhehhHH...! HEH'TSSHHHIEW!"

"My goodness, bless! You sound absolutely miserable. Shall I fetch you a glass of water? Or another blanket, perhaps?"

"Nhhh– no." Lucifer protested between hitching breaths, conjuring a handkerchief with the flick of the wrist, "N-no thahhh...hhhah! Hhhh...”

He finally lowered the cloth when the tickle finally fizzled out, heaving a sigh of relief. “Ndo thadk you. Snff!" He took a deep breath before letting loose a mucky blow into the fabric, "It's fine. I'm fine."

A pause. "Ah."

"What? What is it now?"

"Oh nothing, nothing! I’ll let you get back to your rest. But before I go, could I mention one more thing?”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s just. Well, I had my first impressions, but I assumed that the King of Hell wouldn't be so cowardly."

"Cowardly?!" Lucifer repeated incredulously, spitting a plume of smoke.

"I see your hearing is as sharp as your wit."

"I'll show you cowardly you…y-you…hhh-!" The demon’s nose twitched desperately, and he cursed between hitching gasps as it tried again and again to just get. The damned itch. Out.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't quite catch that."

"You…you self-important…hehhh…p-pompous…!" 

"How flattering of you to notice my worth! And would you believe it? You're absolutely right! I am the fundraiser for this humble project, after all. The guide for these poor, misguided souls. Ones such as yourself."

"Oh, please! We both know you’re...you're no behhh...better than…hhhH–!" Lucifer's handkerchief raised to his face.

"Trying to use your infamous silver tongue through a sneeze? My word! Charlie had told me you were stubborn. But this?"

"Eshhh! Et'SCHHH! HEH'ETSCHH'HHHIEW!" He quickly twisted his head away to let loose a breath of flame, barely singeing the well-abused cloth.

"Poor, poor Lucifer Morningstar.” Alastor teased, his voice as soft and careful as a snake in the grass. The smattering of footsteps echoed across the floorboards, circling the bed. “Always choosing your own heavenly guilt over the needs of everyone else."

"HEH'ESCHH'HHHIU! Hehh! Hhh…hghh…"

"Which is a shame, considering the ill resident who requires attention. Trapped in their own feverish mind. Alone while their partner is away. Unable to move or think or even ask for help properly. But I’m sure you wouldn’t know how it feels for them, considering how indestructible you are."

"...There is?" Lucifer finally croaked, cringing to himself at another gurgling nose blow.

"Of course! While you were hiding in your room with your wings tucked between your legs, I'm afraid you've missed someone very important. Someone close to you."

Lucifer froze. He didn't mean.

"Mmm. Let's see." As the radio host thought stubby knobs spun on their own, playing flickers of songs diluted by time. "Rosy cheeks. Blonde hair. Red eyes that sparkle so damn brightly one could go blind."

Oh no.

"Puffy bow tie. Black fingernails."

Did. Did he get his little girl sick? Please, please don't let that be the case.

"The most spell-binding singing voice."

He thought back to breakfast. How Charlie had eaten less than normal. How she sniffled once or twice at the table. Wait, did her face look pale? Maybe the light didn’t catch it?

A knot formed in the pit of his stomach.

"Wh-where is she-- they, um! That. Resident right now?"

"Oh, performing the usual suffering patient routine. Lying in bed. Being miserable. Quite adament about sleeping the bug off. Reminds me of the ol’ picture books that star wealthy socialites and their sickly Victorian children. The ones who die due to their parents' neglect and mistreatment."

"I could help her." The fallen angel mumbled anxiously as he pushed himself upright. "I could help her right– …now..." 

The second he dared to stand he nearly fainted, stumbling dizzily to grab the bedpost for support. From beneath a small string of black tentacles sprouted from the ground, nudging him back into place and under the covers as The Radio Demon tutted disapprovingly. 

"I wouldn’t do that if I were you. If you can't partake in the complex act of resting, then what good are you to our dear, sweet Charlie?"

"Shut. Up." Lucifer hissed, "I am a grown adult--"

"--debatable--"

"--and I choose what to do with my free time! And it's my jo-- koff koff! j-job to help my daughter when she needs it!" A shaky finger waved at all six radios. Or were there seven?

"To be quite honest Sire, I would prefer to do my tasks without your meddling. Actually, I would prefer not to perceive your existence at all, thank you very much. Unless..."

"Unless?"

"Unless you'd rather call her yourself. But I know you won't." A mocking tone laced with static, “You c̴̨̮͊o̶̗̤̿ẇ̷̙á̴̼̖ȑ̶͉̕d̶̙͚͗̕.”

“I– wh–” Lucifer laughed in sheer disbelief, snatching up his phone. “Y-you’re– you’re joking, right? I’m not some– some godforsaken hermit!"

"Then by all means, prove it."

"I am!"

“I’m waiting."

"Oh, I’ll do it! I’ll do such a good call. It’ll be the– snff! goodest caller you’ve ever seen.” The King of Hell pouted like a child as he moved his claws.

“Ugh. Lord knows how he’ll act if he gets worse.” The radio mumbled quietly.

“Whassat?”

“My apologies, Your Majesty! I forgot that your company as of late are less of the civilized and more the rubber duck variety.”

"Of all the– if you weren't stuck to Charlie like a parasite I would take the sharpest end of my tail and shove it up your--"

Click!

"Dad?" A voice croaked.

"Charlie!" Lucifer's venom turned saccharine sweet, flipping on a dime. "Hey! Hi! H-how are ya, sweetie?"

"Mmrgh...what time is it?"

"It's. Um. Evening…time? Look, that doesn't matter right now. Are you feeling alright, kiddo?"

"Am I feeling alright?" His patient echoed sleepily.

"Yeah! I uh. IIIII just wanted to check in. See if you were okay." 

"Oh. Um, I'm okay." A bit of rustling and a pause. "Are you okay?"

"Snff! Me?"

"Yes, you! You looked so tired at breakfast this morning, a-and you didn’t eat anything which never happens! And you were kinda glowing? It kinda seemed bad but I didn’t want to ask because maybe it was a personal thing and– wait, your voice is…are you crying?!" Rustling turned into the shuffle of pacing slippers.

"What? No! Nonononono! I just--" Lucifer froze, feeling another itch start to build, handkerchief nowhere to be found under the sea of fabric. "Jhhh-just excuse mbe for– snff! For a seggond. Keebp t-talki’g…!"

He quickly pressed his hand against the speaker, stifling into his shoulder until the scratchy wool felt damp. "Hh'ntt! Hh’ngk! Hhh’TCH! ‘TCH! Hhhhh...HT'CHNXT'hiew! Guhh..."

"Sure. A-anyway, you called me pretty early in the morning and after all that and this. Soooo…is there anything I can do to help?"

Desperate claws scrambled to craft a new handkerchief and wipe his streaming face. "N-no! No, no-- snff! absolutely not! Worry about yourself Char-Char, I'm fi--....f-fihh...!"

Hang up, pinch your nose shut, do anything but--

"HET'SHHH'HIEW!" Lucifer doubled over.

–sneeze.

"Oh geez, that sounded terrible!” Charlie gasped, “Is that why you've been in your room all day? Are you sick?"

A sudden, very obvious realization hit him. Silently the fallen king sunk into his mattress, wishing he could be swallowed by his comforter. His cheeks burned. The familiar description. The taunting. 

“Can I. Call you back, Stardust?” 

“What? Whoa, whoa, wait, we’re not finished here–” With a final monotone beep, the call ended.

"You.” Lucifer clenched his fangs.

“Yes?” Alastor hummed non-chalantly. “YOU.”

“Gracious! No need to shout. Even The Devil Himself should know that a sickly patient musn’t raise his voice, lest it get worse than it already is!”

“Watch your back, bellhop. Next time I see you, no ring of Hell will compare to what I-- koff! I’ll–" The threat died with a wheeze, breaking into another ill-timed fit.

"And that's all for tonight, folks!" The radio suddenly hopped back to life, "Tomorrow's show may be a little dicey schedule wise, as our guest star is feeling quite unwell. Will he finally exit his literal and proverbial cave of sorrows for once in his miserable life? Or, much like his saintly past, will pride once again be his downfall--"

"Dad! Are you– eep!"

Charlie's entrance was suddenly interrupted when a black fist rained down on the damned noise box, breaking in a fit of bouncing springs and wooden splinters. The room stilled until a meek, nervous chuckle finally broke the spell.

"Charlie, dear?"

"Y…yeah?"

"Um. Could. Could I trouble you for a glass of water?"

[edgarapoecolouredglasses]

Little mastermind part six

You know the drill

THE GIF IS NOT MINE

Pairing: Troy Otto/Reader

Summary: The clock is ticking and Troy is desperate to protect his people.The only out he can think of is to make an appeal to the mercy of an old friend.

Part: 6/at least 10

Masterlist

——————————————————

Troy sat for hours, wracking his brain, staring at the maps scattered across the desk, trying to think of a way to keep his community safe. It wasn’t just a group anymore—it had grown into something bigger, something more meaningful. A real community.

He glanced out of the study’s window to the scene below: people doing laundry, others cooking outside, always making something out of nothing, every single day, despite how low the supplies were running.

The children ran around, laughing as they played, while some of the teenagers sat in a corner, passing around old comics.

Guards stood on the perimeter, men and women who had willingly taken up the responsibility of protecting everyone inside.

His gaze drifted over to the makeshift hospital room they’d set up in one of the rooms. He hadn’t seen Tracy with the other kids, which meant she was probably in there, talking Y/N’s ear off like usual. Trying to help

He smiled to himself, the brief thought easing some of the weight on his shoulders. His girls.

But then his eyes caught movement in the woods beyond the fence. A guard quickly took care of a small group of walkers, and Troy’s smile faded.

They couldn’t stay here forever. The supplies around the compound were thinning out, the walkers kept coming, and even though everyone was holding on, he needed to find somewhere they wouldn’t have to constantly look over their shoulders, wondering if the next day would be the one they lost it all.

As he stared down at the map again, his head lifted when the static of the radio filled the room.

Another broadcast from PADRE rang out through the crackling noise.

“If you lost your child or think that they might have been taken, come to the following coordinates…”

Troy reached over and turned down the volume, sighing heavily as the message played on.

It was the same voice, Madison’s voice, that he had heard when he first arrived at this compound. When he heard it for the first time, something had ignited in him. Years of rage, of anger, of grief that he thought he’d buried, all came roaring back at the sound of her voice.

He had wanted revenge. Needed it, even. After everything that had happened, after what she had taken from him, the idea of her being out there, still breathing, still talking, made his blood boil.

But now, weeks later, with the community growing and his responsibilities piling up, that desire for vengeance had dulled. Not because he didn’t want it anymore—he did—but because there were other things pulling at him. Things more important than settling old scores. Tracy. The people here. Y/n.

He rubbed his temples, the weight of it all pressing down on him again. His focus needed to be here. On them. Not on the past.

The radio message faded into static, and Troy switched it off completely. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling for a moment, wondering how long they could really keep going like this. How long until something gave?

He stood up, pacing the room, the tension building inside him again. There were decisions to make—ones that would affect everyone here. Ones that could either save them or destroy everything they’d built. He couldn’t afford to make the wrong choice, not now.

Troy glanced back out the window at the people below, the kids laughing, the adults working together. They were counting on him.

————————————————

A week passed, and everything seemed to be moving at a whirlwind pace. More survivors had come to us, and among them, there was a couple—doctors. Actual doctors! When I first heard about it, I nearly burst into tears from relief. It felt like a miracle, like we had finally caught a break.

Up until then, I had been living on a prayer, doing everything I could with whatever knowledge I had. Guesswork. That’s what it had been. If someone got an infection, I hoped I had enough antibiotics or herbal remedies to treat it. Heart problems? That was another beast entirely. I did what I could with the knowledge I had gathered over the years, but I knew it wasn’t enough. And every time someone came into the med bay, a part of me feared that it would be something I couldn’t fix.

But now, with real doctors, it was different. I worked closely with them. They were patient, showing me things I hadn’t known—how amputate a gangrenous limb, how to handle certain illnesses I’d only ever read about. It was like a weight was slowly being lifted off my shoulders. We finally had real medical expertise on our side, and it was one less thing to worry about.

We had also moved to a new building—a place that, for now, felt safer than where we were. An old library, dusty and worn, but with sturdy walls and enough room for everyone to have a bit more space. It felt strange, though, living among all the abandoned books, as if we had found refuge in the remnants of a world that no longer existed. It was depressing and made me hopeful at the same time.

But even here, I knew it wouldn’t last long. It couldn’t. The building was secure, but our food supply wasn’t. There wasn’t enough land nearby to grow our own, and the scavenging teams were coming back with less and less every day. It was only a matter of time before we’d have to move again.

I was deep into a book on radiation treatment, trying to soak in every detail, when I heard footsteps approach. Looking up, I saw Troy standing there, an unusual expression on his face—almost as if he was hesitant.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “Are you up for an errand?”

I raised an eyebrow, immediately cautious. “What kind of errand?”

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes held mine, and for the first time in a long while, I saw something almost…pleading in his gaze. Something was off.

But instead of pushing for more details, I closed the book and stood up. “Okay,” I said, my voice soft but certain. I would be wherever he needed me to be. I always had been.

Without another word, Troy nodded and hurried off to grab Tracy. I gathered my gear quickly, slipping on my jacket and checking my weapons. Whatever this was, it didn’t feel like a simple supply run.

We left the library in the biggest, sturdiest vehicle we had—an absolute tank of a car that had been patched up more times than I could count, but it still ran.

Tracy sat between us in the front seat, unusually quiet, her small fingers tracing the outline of the map spread across her lap.

The silence in the car was thick. I kept glancing over at Troy, trying to read him. There was something he wasn’t saying, and it gnawed at me. I opened my mouth to ask again, but then caught his gaze, and the words died in my throat.

Whatever we were headed for, it was important. And he needed me to trust him.

Troy spoke suddenly, breaking the tense silence without looking away from the road. “I’ve been hearing Madison on the radio.”

I blinked in surprise, turning to look at him. My first instinct was disbelief, and I didn’t bother hiding it. “Madison? As in the Madison.. Madison Clark?” I stared at him for a few seconds, then, half-joking and half-serious, I reached over and placed my hand on his forehead, checking for a fever. “You feeling alright? You sure it’s not a hallucination?”

Troy tensed, clearly not in the mood for jokes, and shooed my hand away with an irritated sigh. “Stop.”

When we had a very random and brief encounter with Alicia, which ultimately caused Serena’s death, she seemed pretty sure that her mom was dead. And that was years ago, so pardon me if I felt like Troy bust have been seeing things.

Tracy, giggling beside me, mimicked my movement, reaching up to put her tiny hand on his forehead too. Troy quickly grabbed her wrist and pulled it away, his tone sharp. “Tracy, please,” he said in that serious, annoyed voice I’d rarely ever heard him use with her.

Tracy was treated like an absolute princess by him. Tracy asked Tracy got, as far as it was possible in this new world. When she was told no, it was always gentle, with a lengthy explanation of why she couldn’t get what she wanted.

The only times I’d ever seen Troy use his strict dad voice like this, it was either because he was very stressed or on edge, or when she had put herself in danger and he was so worried that it turned into anger. It caught me off guard, and I immediately stopped playing around.

Troy glanced down at Tracy with a brief, guilty smile, as if to apologize for his tone.

He was more tense than I had realized. This wasn’t just some passing comment about a radio broadcast; this was something weighing heavily on him. He finally exhaled and continued, “I’ve been hearing Madison… took over PADRE. It’s this organization… you’ve heard of it from those new people, right?”

PADRE—the stories we’d heard about them were grim, nothing good. I didn’t know much, but what I did know made my skin crawl. Children, ripped from their families and molded into soldiers? My thoughts raced, but Troy’s voice brought me back.

“She gave coordinates in the broadcast,” he continued, his voice quieter, more reflective. “For parents to come find PADRE. Look for their kids.”

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling in the car like a lead blanket. What was he thinking? What was this errand really about?

Troy paused for a moment before adding, almost too quietly, “The place seems… safe.”

Safe.

I glanced over at him, searching for more than what he was saying, but his face was unreadable, eyes fixed on the road. The wheels in my mind started spinning faster. Safe. In a world like this, what did safe even mean anymore? And why was Troy—who never trusted anything easily—considering it?

“What are you thinking, Troy?” I asked, my voice soft but filled with concern. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer, but I needed to hear it anyway.

Troy’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles white against the worn leather. He exhaled deeply before speaking, as though admitting his plan out loud made it more real. “I’ve been thinking of going there.”

“To PADRE?” I asked, my voice catching in my throat. “Troy, what—”

“I’d have to swallow my pride,” he interrupted, his voice flat, but I could sense the weight of those words. “What she did to me was… unforgivable. You know that. I hated her for it. Still do.” He paused, his jaw tightening. “But I’ve got more people to think about than just myself now.”

I blinked, my heart pounding. This was a side of Troy I rarely saw—the one that wrestled with something more than survival. His eyes remained focused on the road, but I could tell this wasn’t easy for him to admit.

“If swallowing my pride gives us any chance of a safe place for this community… for you, for Tracy,” he continued, his voice lowering, “then I’ll gladly do it.”

I stared at him, trying to piece together the full picture. “Why do you need us to come?” I asked, my heart sinking as it confirmed this wasn’t just some regular errand.

Troy sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair before speaking. “I’m hoping she won’t kill me on the spot.”

“What?” The word tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop it. “Troy—”

“She has no reason to let me live after everything that happened at the dam,” he said, cutting me off again. “I need her, not the other way around. There’s nothing in it for her to keep me alive, except maybe the goodness of her heart—and I’m not sure how much of that she’s got left.”

The weight of his words pressed down on me. I knew about the dam. I knew what had happened between them, even if Troy hadn’t shared every detail. Madison had done something unforgivable, and Troy wasn’t one to forget easily.

“Then why… why bring us?” I asked, my voice trembling with worry.

“She knows you,” Troy said quietly. “You two parted ways on good terms—before you knew what she’d done to me. She definitely won’t hurt you. Maybe she’ll listen to you.”

I shook my head slightly, trying to wrap my mind around it all. “And Tracy?”

Troy’s eyes flickered toward the backseat, where Tracy sat quietly, unaware of the gravity of the conversation. “I brought her to show that I’m not a threat. That I won’t try anything. I need her to see that I’m trying to protect my daughter now. Maybe if Madison sees my family... I was reckless at the ranch, I know that I was a danger. I had nothing to lose, my father was dead, my brother had chosen Alicia over me. I was alone, and that revenge felt justified.”

The car felt smaller with the weight of his words. His eyes found mine again, softer now, but filled with an apology that neither of us had ever fully addressed. But, maybe we should have talked it over one of these days.

He remembered, just like I did, that I had been at the ranch too when he unleashed his reckless fury. Back then, I was just another casualty of that herd made of his grief and rage.

“I didn’t care what happened to anyone,” His voice cracked slightly. “But now… it’s different. There’s Tracy and if we want any chance of Madison letting us in, she needs to see Tracy.”

The words hung in the air between us, heavy with uncertainty. I looked at Troy, my chest tightening with a mixture of fear and understanding.

He was risking everything—not just his pride, but his life—for the chance to secure a future for all of us. And even though I hated the idea of facing Madison, I couldn’t help but feel the same sense of hope Troy was clinging to.

“Troy…” I started, my voice soft, unsure of what to say.

But he just shook his head, his eyes hard as he looked back to the road. “We have to try.”

As they drove, the coordinates on the map became more and more confusing. The further we ventured, the more the land seemed to narrow, and soon we were staring at a stretch of water that separated us from their destination.

Troy slammed the car door, stepping out to look at the map again, disbelief etched across his face. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered.

I followed him out, glancing over his shoulder. The coordinates pointed to a small dot on the other side of the water. “Is that… an island?”

“Looks like it.” Troy ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. “No wonder we couldn’t get there by road. They’re on an island.”

I squinted across the water, the outline of the distant land barely visible. “How are we supposed to get over there?”

Troy didn’t answer at first, his gaze scanning the shoreline. After a moment, he turned, his eyes landing on something half-buried in the sand at the water’s edge. “Hold on,” he said, already moving towards it.

I followed him, watching as he knelt down beside what looked like the wreckage of an old speedboat. The metal was rusted, the frame battered by weeks, maybe months of neglect, but Troy’s eyes lit up with a spark of determination.

“Think this can still work?” I asked, doubting it could float, much less get them across.

Troy didn’t respond immediately, his hands already inspecting the boat, checking the engine. There was still fuel in there that didn’t seem to be more than a few months old “It’s going to need some work… but yeah, I can fix it.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that? This thing looks like it’s been sitting here for years.”

Troy gave a dry laugh, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Months, it’s worse off because of the humidity. And you’d be surprised what I can get to work when I don’t have a choice.” He pulled out a toolbox from the boat car, setting it down beside him. “Besides, I’ve fixed worse.”

I watched him as he started tinkering with the engine, loosening bolts and replacing parts with scraps he’d salvaged. It was strange seeing him like this — calm, focused, in his element.

After a while, he glanced up at me, a smirk playing on his lips. “You know, when I was in my teens, before the militia, my father used to make me work on tractors and cars after I got kicked out of school.”

I blinked in surprise. Troy never talked about his past anymore, let alone his father. The image of Jeremiah’s face, drained of blood and hollow after he shot himself still sent shivers down my spine.

“Yeah?” I prompted, leaning against the side of the boat.

“Yeah.” He kept working as he spoke, his tone casual but with a hint of bitterness. “He told me that if I couldn’t get my brain to work, ‘I better get those damn engines to work’” he said, mimicking his fathers voice, as far as he could still remember it. “I could at least be useful around the ranch. So, while my brother was off at college getting praised for being the ‘smart’ one, I was out in the fields fixing everything that broke down.”

I felt a pang of sympathy for him but didn’t say anything, knowing he wouldn’t want pity. Instead, I just watched as he worked, slowly but surely bringing the engine back to life.

“I guess it paid off in the end, though,” Troy continued, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Because now, I can get this thing running and get us to where we need to go.”

I couldn’t help but smile at that. I knew his father wasn’t really the best dad. He neglected him for years while he was being abused by his mom. Jeremiah told me that himself. But I knew how much Troy still loved his father, and how much he wanted to prove himself to that old bastard. “Your dad would be proud.” I say

Troy chuckled, shaking his head. “I doubt that. But maybe he’d be impressed. A little.”

After what felt like hours, the boat finally sputtered to life, the engine coughing before settling into a steady hum. Troy stood up, grinning like a kid who’d just pulled off a magic trick.

“There,” he said, wiping his hands on his jeans again. “Told you I could do it.”

I stared at the boat, amazed that it actually worked. “You never cease to amaze me, Troy.”

He shot me a playful look. “I’m full of surprises. Come on, let’s get moving before the tide changes.”

When we arrived at the gates of a small island, a teenage girl with brown hair and a fighting stick stepped forward to open it. She looked us up and down, her eyes sharp and calculating. “What’s your business here?” she asked.

I forced a calm smile and lied smoothly because Madison had to be the first person to see us and hear us out, “We’re looking for my missing child.” Tracy squeezed my hand as the girl sized us up, then nodded and led us inside.

She sized up once more before sighing “follow me.”

She guided us to a small office, which looked more like an interrogation room. “Wait here,” she said before disappearing through another door.

The moment she left, I glanced down at Tracy. She tried to keep a brave face, but I could see the fear in her eyes, even if she’d never admit it. I squeezed her hand tighter, offering some comfort, though a shudder ran through my back as well.

Troy, always observant, noticed and pulled me into a hug. His embrace was strong and steady, but I could feel the tension radiating from him too. He knew as well as I did—this wasn’t the Madison we once knew. Eleven years had passed, and while Madison and I had parted on good terms, things had changed. Madison had changed. She had to have grown colder, harder. After all, who could stay the same after everything that’s happened? I was with troy, and I was sure she hated him.

I had faith that she wouldn’t hurt a child, at least not intentionally, but the thought still gnawed at me. Without a word, I bent down and lifted Tracy into my arms, even though she was getting too big for it. I just needed to hold her, to feel her close. Her arms wrapped around my neck, her head nestled into my shoulder.

Then, the door creaked open.

All three of us turned toward it, the tension thick in the air as we braced for what—or who—was about to step through.

Madison’s face twisted with shock the moment her eyes fell on Troy. She froze, her expression a mix of disbelief and something close to fear, as if she were staring at a ghost. In a way, she was.

Her voice came out in a stunned whisper, “But… I killed you.”

Troy didn’t respond immediately. His jaw clenched tight, the muscles in his neck tensing as he bit his tongue. I could see the battle going on behind his eyes—the anger, the pain, the memories of everything she’d done to him.

I reached out and placed a gentle hand on his arm, squeezing just enough to remind him that I was there. Supporting him. His eyes flicked to mine for a second, and I gave him a soft nod. We were in this together, no matter what came next.

Madison’s gaze darted between us, the tension in the room thickening with every passing second. Tracy shifted slightly in my arms, sensing the heaviness in the air, but she stayed quiet, her small hand clutching at my sleeve.

Finally, Troy exhaled, his voice low but steady. “As you can see I’m alive and kicking,” His face did nothing to hide the glare coming from his eyes as he spoke “You didn’t finish the job, Madison.”

———————————————————

As always let me know what you liked and what you didn’t like.

I’m always open for critique

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added)

@elleirbag50 @aldenenjoyer

[thimbledoll]

A Case Study in Ascension

The old machine clicks and whirs as the cassette tape is slotted into the VCR. It’s a miracle they were able to find one of these any more. Digitizing, tagging, and sorting through all these old records was a long, laborious process. You were already on your fifth cup of coffee and it wasn’t even halfway to lunch.

As the display flickers to life, a young girl appears on screen. Her exact age is difficult to make out, given the graininess of the recording, but you’d peg her as approaching her teens. She bounces slightly in the over-large, plush office chair she’s sitting in, her smile beaming brightly.

The much older woman sitting across from her behind a large, oaken desk is quite the opposite. She sits stock still, hardly moving an inch except to make more scratches in the notepad she’s carrying. She barely even looks at the girl before asking atonally, “Now Sarah, you understand why you’re here, right?”

“Yes, miss. Mom and Dad said this was some kind of study,” the girl replies.

“That’s right. You and I are going to get together every couple of months just to talk about how things are going for you. School. Friends. Family. Whatever things you have going on in life. And please, call me Dr. █████. Understand?”

“Yes, Dr. █████.”

“Good. Now, let’s start with how things are at home. Mom and Dad get along?”

“Oh, gosh yes. They’re really happy togeth—”

The girl’s tale is interrupted as the recording cuts to snow and static typical of these older machines. After a moment, a cohesive picture appears again; the same two women sitting in the same office, though the young girl now has the look of a young teenager. The date in the corner of the video indicates that several years have passed between these recordings. The girl’s bounce is notably gone.

“Hello, Sarah. How are you doing today?” the doctor asks.

“Hey, Dr. █████. It’s… fine, I guess.”

“Not feeling too chatty?” It’s hard to see, but it looks like the doctor’s facial expression actually flashed a hint of emotion there, though what emotion exactly was impossible to say.

“I’ve just got a lot going on.”

“So I’ve heard. Your father tells me you were with him when he was served the divorce papers. How are you handling things?”

“I dunno… Like I said, doc, I guess it’s fine. I’ll just have to give a little to help out around the house, y’know? Dad can pull in enough for all of us, even despite everything, so it’s fi—”

The video cuts out again, but rather oddly, the typical VHS static instead sounds like the sizzling and crackling of a wood fire. When it resumes, an even older Sarah now sits curled up on the plush chair, hugging her knees to her chest. The doctor seemingly doesn’t mind that she’s got her shoes on the furniture. The whole image looks odd, like it’s been passed through an image filter or was overly lit while being shot.

“So I hear your dad lost his job? How are you handling things?”

“Look, I… I really don’t want to do this today…”

The doctor pauses a moment to consider before responding. “Sarah, be that as it may, talking about these kinds of events are critical to our study. You do want to continue participating right? I imagine your family needs the stipend now more than ever. Please, how are you handling things?”

The doctor may have been hard to read, but the glare Sarah shot her was anything but. “Fine,” she spat back, venom dripping from her voice. “You want to know how I’m handling things, Doctor █████? I’m being asked to give up any shot I had at a normal social life during my college years so I can work to support my family. But you know what? Like I said, it’s fine. I’m fine. It’ll be fine. I just have to give a little more for them. Once I graduate, I’ll be able to get a real job and take care of them. It’s fi—”

You expected it this time. The screen whites out to that off-kilter static as the next session begins to play. The doctor now wears a pair of sunglasses, the lighting rig apparently becoming too much for her or the recording equipment to handle. Some tech must have gotten fired for this, for sure.

“So I hear school’s not going so well?”

“Dad… needs me to drop out. His health isn’t doing so well. But it’s fine… What’s a year or two? I just have to give a little more. I’ll go back once his health improves. It’s fi—”

CRACKLE

“So I hear your dad’s taken a turn for the worse?”

“I just have to give a little more… At least my sister’s working now. It’s fi—”

SIZZZZZZZ

“So I hear your sister’s gotten in some trouble with the law?”

“I just have to give a little more… It’s fi—”

POP

“Just give a little more… It’s fi—”

SNAP SIZZZZZ

“Just a little more… It’s fi—”

CRACKLE POP

“Just…”

SIZZZZZZ CRACK

“…a little…”

CRACK CRACK POP

“more…”

SIZZZZZZZZZZ SNAP POP CRACK

The recording starts up clear and crisp once more, but it’s just the unnamed doctor this time, looking directly into the camera from where it now sits opposite her desk. Her expression is lively and jovial. Gone is the sphinx-like unreadability and stone-like body language as well the sunglasses. It appears like the lighting issues have been fixed. She now bounces in her chair excitedly, like a young girl.

“We’re close now. I can feel it. It’s taken years of work, but it’s all about to pay off. We now sit on the cusp of greatness. Peak luminosity readings are off the charts. Purpose is clear. We’re experiencing regular equipment issues during sessions, owing to lens or temperature flares. One more push and we should achieve ignition.

“Replicability is still in question, but who cares about that right now? We only have to manage this once to prove that it’s possible. If the field team can orchestrate this last push, by this time next month, nothing should remain of the person once known as Sarah. There will be nothing left of herself to give.” The VCR clicks as the recording reaches its end. You hit the eject button and wait as the machine spins up and spits out the video cassette. Forty eight down, one hundred thirty seven to go. There was no way you were going to finish before the end of the week. You grab the next cassette from the box labeled Project Seraphim and pop it in.

End 🧵

(Originally written for inclusion in Emptied Spaces: An Empty Spaces Anthology, available in digital form on itch.io. Major kudos to Alexandra and her shop, Sapphic Sweets, for making this awesome project happen)

[stevenbasic]

Growing into the Job, Post 360: That was Then, This is Now, p12

What remained of the upstairs apartment door swings open and crashes into the wall with a sharp >bang< as the two Others enter, say hello to the two receptionists who are with him.

“Bianca, Sammi hi he-“

“Crikey Aubs what the fuck?”

“Y-yeah someone broke in and-”

“And Jesus are you leaking?”

“N-no, uh, that’s just his, uh-”

“Thanks Aubrey we’ll take it from here.”

“b-but-“

“It’s okay, really.”

“Yeah, Olivia sent us. So piss off.”

“She wanted us to come up and take care of him…”

Lights are flickering overhead.

“We’ve got tits, too. See?”

“…and she’s the boss, right?”

The red haired woman’s voice is full of something powerful.

“R-right.”

“You should probably go too, Nadia.”

“Right.”

Two young women exit, leaving two behind with him. A door closes. 

They crouch down, one on either side. They study his face, his eyes moving in dream behind half-closed lids. The redhead reaches out, holds them open, gazes deep into him….

“Do you see what’s happening in there?”

“It’s, like, some kind of wonky protective charm.”

“Yep. But we can fix that.”

The redhead’s two hands go to his temples. Lights flicker anew as she begins to tap his skull with her fingernails: <clickety-clickety-click> The whites of his eyes change color as something fuchsin runs through their veins. 

"You saw what was happening in there? That was then. Let’s show him now."

“Haha bonkers. But Emily said-“

“Shut up. Now give him a kiss...”

…

I felt an immediate chill. The room, everything around me suddenly felt strange, a little different, certainly a little colder as my front desk girl, Aubrey, abruptly released me from her comforting embrace. I blushed, having just been held to her full young bosom, and noticed that the shadows in the office seemed deeper, and longer. Static crackled over the big band tunes coming from my new RCA desktop radio, and I saw there was a crack in one of my office windows…and it was growing. The girls, my medical assistants, had checked me out, making sure I hadn’t hurt myself moving that vending machine. Now that I think about it, how on earth had I done that? 

Lakshmi, Josie, Amelia - and is that Marisela? She’s wearing so much makeup - surrounded me. Someone was pouring me a whisky from my servette and another was now playing with the radio unit, changing channels, looking for the news. 

Something was about to happen.  Knock knock sweetie..! called a familiar voice from the door. Bodies around me shifted, away, and I looked to see-

Melissa!

Haha w-wow look at you! I said from behind the small crowd of women, someone less assured than I would have blushed from hearing the shaking in my voice. I was sure it was nothing to worry about. Always dressed to the nines for the office, Melissa naturally drew all eyes to her. She took my breath away, actually. You look like the b-bee’s knees! I said. 

Oh thank you sweetie! she sang, feigning a blush at my compliment as she stood in the doorway of the room. My girlfriend - how long had we been seeing one another? - was a real looker. A tall drink of water, for sure - almost as tall as me! And the figure on her? The knockers and those gams? Wow! She wore high heels and had my coffee, my morning joe, steaming hot and hopefully just as I liked it: black! 

She came in, the <click-clack-click> of her high heels echoing strangely loud, staccato against the new linoleum of my office floor. Is that a new dress, doll? I asked as I stood for the lady, obviously impressed with her appearance. Who wouldn’t be? 

<clickety-click-click> Really loud. Weird. When she reached me we were eye-to-eye; in fact haha in those heels she was a bit taller. You look like a m-million bucks. 

Take a picture, dreamboat, she purred in a private whisper, reaching to straighten my tie, her sparkling eyes on mine and a curl to her smile, it’ll last longer. 

I couldn’t help it, my eyes dropped down to her tits. Cleavage bulged above the neckline of her blue, polka-dot dress and I got a whiff of her Chanel N-…Huh. No…was she wearing something new? Whatever it was, the flowery scent gave me an immediate boner! That, and it reminded me of, wow, what we’d been doing in bed together recently. Those words she’d started using with me when we were alone, in the dark: ‘good boy’, ‘my little man’, ‘mama’s baby’…

Wow, she was really sumpthin’ else...

Eyes up here, tiger, she giggled softly, and took a step back to let me watch her set her shoulders, making sure to keep my interest. Here’s your coffee, boss, she continued, interrupting my reverie and sudden lapse of composure. Now the whole room was watching us. I put a little milk in it this morning for you, to help the tummy, she told me.

Oh, um, thanks, I replied, looking around awkwardly as the girls around me giggled. Something strange was happening.

Now, I heard something about you being very brave. Is that right? Melissa cooed, taking a step forward back towards me. Instinctively, for some reason, I took a step back.

Oh yes, Marisela chimed in, an acerbic edge to her voice I hadn’t heard earlier, You should have seen it. Dr. Jay pulled a vending machine right off of Mr. Kowalczyk. Had Marisela always been this <gulp> busty? Her black blouse had…wow, someone should tell her…popped a button. Or maybe three...

He was brave, very brave, Lakshmi cooed. Oh my gosh the way she swung her hips.

You would have been so proud, chimed in Josie.

Oh I am proud, I am so proud of our big, strong man, Melissa crowed indulgently, our brave boy.

Our knight in shining armor! Aubrey offered.  So brave, Lakshmi cooed.

The girls crept closer to me, surrounding me from all sides. They were praising me, but it didn't feel like praise. It felt like…something else.

So fucking brave, drawled Amelia.

This was weird, right? Something was slipping away from me, and it felt like my authority. I was the man here! I had to take control! And I couldn’t let that lapse in office propriety go. 

P-Please watch your language? I spoke to Amelia, wincing when I heard my voice crack, unsettled by the lack of conviction I heard in it. Amelia’s breasts seemed larger as well, larger than I remembered. Looking at them made me feel somehow smaller, and like I shouldn’t have dared to discipline her. 

Her long nails began to tap in rhythm on the desk. <clickety-clickety-click> <clickety-clickety-click>

Melissa had stepped up to me, and now grabbed me by the tie. She pulled me in for a kiss - wow, what a kiss! - that sent electric shocks all the way down to my toes. It even made the lights in the room hum and flicker! My eyes rolled in my head as her tongue took over my mouth. Someone had made sure my desk chair was right behind me and good thing because when Melissa released me my legs gave out and I fell backwards into it. 

The girls had begun to clap, again. <clap clap clap!> Why? What?

<clap clap clap!>

From my chair I looked up at Melissa.

Do I look taller from down there? she asked. 

Wh-what?

<clickety-clickety-click>

I know you like tall girls, she pressed, and I asked: do I look taller from way…down…there?

She inched forward a bit, peering down her nose at me. She’d begun to take hold of the hem of her short skirt. S-something strange was happening.

<clap clap clap!>

<clickety-clickety-click!>

Taller? Melissa continued, Bigger?

<clap clap clap!> wh-where is that coming from?

She began to turn around…

Let me show you how big I’ve gotten, sweetie, she purred, slowly lifting her skirts and bending over at the waist, how big I am now, back here…

M-Melissa w-w-wait! I sputtered, what are you d-???

My voice froze and I gasped as it came into view. Fucking Jesus Christ what’s happened?!? It was huge!

<clap clap clap clap clap clap>

<clickety-clickety-click>

I heard Melissa giggle and she put her hands down on the desk, cocked her mountainous hips up, towards me. Her frilly skirt was bundled about her waist. She was not wearing panties. 

Stand up. Show us how much of a man you are. 

<clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap…>

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

[vamxxpire]

Post-Training (18+)

Mare Barrow x Tiberias “Cal” Calore VII

(AO3 | Masterlist)

Summary: A routine between Mare and Cal.

Warnings ⚠️ : Mild dom/sub undertones if you squint again, awkward ish and a little cringe

Wc: 5.7k

A/n: Hi omg ignore any typos, I’m too tired to keep on rereading this lol.

My routine remained the same,

Wake up. Morning run with Cal. Sneak in some Theory. Go to Stormhill. Train with the other Electricons. Go home.

Speaking of pent up energy, after our muddy exchange in the woods, it became norm to see each other outside of our normal routine.

It was easy. No one asks when the lighting girl and exiled prince run off somewhere after training and the soldiers don’t question when I step into their bunker in the middle of the day. At least that’s what I tell myself. I could care less what anyone else thought or saw. Especially after being broadcasted by the king so often and subjected to the eyes of millions.

My muscles ache, throbbing painfully as I make my way down the uneven dirt. Electricity hums dully in my twitching fingertips, sizzling as I try to smooth down my curly hair that stood up at the static. My face was flushed with exhaustion and I squint my eyes at the small crowd of people in the circular arena, far from the hill. I search through the specks of people, looking for Cal. Sometimes he spends his time here; Watching Newbloods train, steadily studying the new wave of abilities and offering feed back. Just like a soldier raised and trained for war would. But I don’t find him through the crowd which gives me an idea of where he’s at instead.

Cal at first watched me train with the others uphill, but after a purple strike of lighting getting too close for my comfort, I urged him to not tag along anymore. After a few stubborn huffs followed by his Arguing-with-Mare stance; Crossed arms over his chest, and a convincing kiss— He now spends his time training, watching fights in the arena, or waiting for me back in his bunker. Now I feel my cheeks heat up for different reasons.

The other Electricons, mainly Ella, are having a conversation. I don’t pay too much attention to it, focusing more on trying to not collapse on the ground crunching under me. The ringing in my ears begin to wear down, but is quickly pushed back and gone as my attention is brought to a shadow in the corner of my eye. Suddenly I feel someone pat at my back, and I crane my neck to glance at them. Ella merely glances down at me, standing only a few inches taller than me.

“You did pretty good today as well Mare! Make sure to rest up,” she eyes my form for a second, a knowing look across her face. I must look like hell right now, I tell myself. I nod courtly as I steady my breath, “Yeah. I will.” Is all I can say for now, offering a small nod of politeness. I feel her hand leave my back, small crackling sounds following along her retracting touch.

With that, the other Electricons and I part our ways; leaving me to finish up my daily routine.

The walk to Cal’s from the hill isn’t so bad, I find it long, but bearable. Initially I hated it. My mind found ways to worry itself or be pulled into past memories of Maven, the white prison he kept me in, Shade, or the other Newbloods lost. Ones who will be lost.

These days I no longer mind it; With all the training I do in a day, and the strain on my body, I find myself too tired to be entertaining any worries. Now I enjoy the walks, finding it a perfect opportunity to regain my energy spent uphill for Cal and whatever trick he has up his sleeve. Or for what my impulsive brain decides on.

I pull my thoughts far away with a weak stretch of my limbs, enjoying the stinging running through me. It feels nice to train again, the dull pain makes me feel alive. After a few more seconds and popping of joints; The familiar building coming into view makes me drop my arms to my side, and suddenly my feet shuffle themselves quickly, nearly tripping over each other as they’re eager to find the him.

After all the analyzing I had to do in the Whitefire Palace, it was easy to memorize my way to his room right off the bat. I turned a corner, passing various rooms as quietly as possible.

Some doors were open, small glances of other’s sleeping quarters. Tiny pockets of life. Majority of them had multiple soldiers, bed bunks in the dull-colored rooms. I wince at the thought of falling off the top bunk, and find myself grateful I don’t sleep in one of these small spaces. Other rooms were empty, the lighting outside being shinned through a singular window and illuminated its lack of soldiers. Yet. I feel my brain tug itself at the idea of war, the Lakelanders, Norta. I force myself to look ahead after turning another quick corner, having no time to entertain such ideas.

I step in front of Cal’s small room, lazily twisting the doorknob with a flick of my wrist. There’s no need for me to knock or make myself known to the person inside, no one else but me would enter his room so casually. Or at all. My eyes automatically go to the corner, where his bed is shoved against the grey wall. I find the prince on the singular bed; His back propped up against some thin pillows with a book in hand.

He wears clean clothes, a thin shirt with loose jogging pants. Cal’s sleeping quarters were different from the others, his bed was against the far end of the room and wasn’t a bunk. But all the while, it still remained narrow.

No other soldiers shared a room with him, which in retrospect, made sense. No one wants to be in close range with a Prince that drags heat everywhere he goes, especially in the middle of Summer. No one but me at least.

With the extra space, even if it was barely anything, he had a small desk with a lamp propped up its surface. He looks up from his reading, practically lighting up at the sight of me entering.

“Hey, how was training?” He asks enthusiastically, closing the book with a quick motion and moving the bottom half of his body to stand.

I groan as I close the door behind me, exaggerating my reaction but betraying it with a curl of my lips. “Tiring. Did some more Storm lighting with Ella.” I kneel down with a pop of a bone, wincing as I quickly began unlacing my boots and loosing up the material.

“Wasn’t so bad though. What are you reading?” I asked him, pulling myself back up slowly and kicking off my footgear near the entrance. He placed the book on the nightstand, with a nonchalant shrug making his way slowly to me.

“Something Julian lent me. Wanted to learn more about what he’s researching.” To learn more about Newbloods, to study them. As if sensing my thoughts he adds on, “Just curious to what he’s been discovering. Exciting work my uncle’s doing honestly.”

When close enough, he reached a lazy hand to wrap around my waist. With the thin cotton of my clothes, made to be refreshing in the Summer heat of Piedmont, it was easy to feel the torch in his hands.

I hum, “Gotta go one day to visit him and Sara,” I replied back.

He nods to me, a small smile forming, “That would be nice. Those two need to be pulled out of the lab for a while.” Cal answered, angling his head to kiss at the top of my head softly, the other hand sneaking its way to massage the nape of my neck. He shuffled closer to me, his hand at my waist tugging at me to bring me forth, but quickly was stilled when I placed a hand against his abdomen. I pushed him back softly.

“Cal, I’m all sweaty and gross right now.” I offer gently, trying to sound stern. He scowls, looking almost as if I’ve insulted him, “I’ve seen you in worst conditions, Barrow.” He grumbled out. I scrunch up my nose in distaste, remembering the various states we’ve been in before, being brought back to the Notch. “That’s different, though,” I answered back, planting my feet firm against the cement floor. He tilts his head to the side, stepping forward; Attempting once more.

My body reacts faster than I do, and without thinking I step back, keeping the same open space between us. Yet it close enough so that his hands still remained on me, neither of us wanting to truly break apart our contact. “And what’s so different now?” He plays dumb, pretending he doesn’t know what I’m talking about. It’s different because we weren’t sleeping with each other back then. I want to snap back, but the words cling to my cowardly tongue.

“Come on, you know what I mean.” I retaliate, taking a few more steps back when he pushed himself more, feeling the hard wall bump against the back of my clothed feet. If he really felt like it he could pull me into his embrace, and if I wanted, I could break out of it.

We do neither. We’re enjoying this game of push and pull, trying to convince the other.

Cal looms over me, forcing me to look up and match his gaze. The hand at my neck found itself flat against the wall, forearm pressed over my head; Sucessfully caging me in with him. No escape now.

“Actually, I don’t follow along.” He says lowly, blunt fingers at my waist finding my training pants. I’m reminded of the storm from a few days prior, being pressed up against the dark oak tree similarly to how he did right now. It brings back memories, the all-too-familiar feeling between my legs returning as it had in various other occasions the past few days.

My face flushed, heart pounding loudly in my ears. No matter how many times we repeat this dance, I still find myself tripping over some of the notes. And I could say the same for him; Even on as the setting sun’s light hit his back, casting a shadow over his front view and me, I could still pick out the specks of silver on his cheeks. But with the practice; The prince grew more confident these couple of days, finding himself comfortable initiating.

My mind raced, trying to come up with something but not being satisfied with whatever answer pops up. Instead I bite my bottom lip, the push against his stomach my hand provided going limp as he wins our little game. He catches on to this, and successfully pulls himself forward, dangerously close to me. If he has any plans of stopping whatever this leads to, I see none. And hope he doesn’t.

“So? Want to fill me in?” He asks, face hovering over mine. My eyes dart, landing on his lips as he spoke. I pull them back to his eyes when I realized he wasn’t going to continue. My tongue darts out to wet my lips nervously, my hand trailing down from his abdomen to the start of his loose pants. His body responds to my touch under his clothing, the muscles twitching as the pads of my fingertips trailed downwards.

“I don’t know.” I whispered, my mind honestly not focused on entertaining him or answering the question. Now it’s his turn to give up on the conversation, instead humming as he kissed the side of my head.

“Oh yeah?” He whispered back, pulling his head away to look at me. His lips were merely inches apart from mine. So close. “So you don’t mind if I continue, even if you’re ‘all sweaty and gross’?” He asked in hushed, but smooth voice, repeating my excuse from earlier.

Suddenly the ache and soreness of my muscles are gone, and it takes everything in me to not jump at him, claw the clothes off his defined form, dirty him up with my own figure, until only our bodies were the only things keeping us apart.

And that’s exactly what I’ll be doing.

So I don’t fight the urge at all, closing the space between us in a swift motion.

Cal moans into the kiss, his gentle tugs at my waist from earlier turning stronger while he pulled my waist off the wall and crushed my hips against his. Both his hands were now at my sides, keeping me at a tight hold. His muscled thigh found itself on its designated spot, and easily came in between my own. It pressed upward against my groin, making me gasp against his lips. He swallowed down any noise that escape my loosened mouth, his tongue working against mine in a desperate and hungry manner. As much he tried to taunt, painting a picture of a calm and level headed man; The desperation in his touch was quite contrasting with the teasing.

With a harsh motion of his hands, he drew my hips forward, dragging me against his leg and forcing me to pull away from the kiss as my breath hitched. A trail of saliva connects the both of us, quickly broken when a grunt leaves me from another delicious drag of my body. I pulled my head down to look at what he’s doing.

With strong arms and hands secured at my hips; He maneuvered me easily, practically gliding me over his clothed leg as if I were nothing. My hands flew up to his forearms on my sides, gripping for some type of stability. I breathed heavily, my thighs around his singular one twitching and squeezing the leg — He continued to rock me against him in steady motions. It drove me crazy, it was enough to feel good, but merely just that. It did no help in feeding the crackling static at my gut that grew tighter; Making whatever I was searching for was out of reach. At this pace I wouldn’t get what I wanted. I wanted more. Needed more.

I look back up, catching how he raised his eyes under my gaze; Enjoying the attention. “Feels good?” He mumbled, another blunt drag to emphasize his question. I shamelessly whine, my fingers digging into his flesh briefly. I laid my head against his shoulder, his hunched figured against my cheek giving me a comfortable position to look up at him.

“Please.” I manage to communicate in between heavy breaths, answering his question with a plead. I hoped he caught on to my silent want, in whatever I needed right now; Because I wasn’t quite sure what I wanted in particular. I needed whatever he was willing to give me.

The muscle in his cheek twitches, fighting back a smile. He just looks at me, as if bored, and trailed me against him particularly slow. It makes me squirm, and I bite my lip to hold back any sound as he drags out the sensation.

“Please what?” He asks in a sweet tone, making it my turn to scowl disapprovingly at him. I have no time for games anymore. “Cal.” I groaned out, patience wearing thin. He laughs, eyes squinting as mischief flickered in the bronze color, showing no hint of backing down. He nudged his face close to the shell of my ear, sending vibrations through it as he spoke, “I thought we agreed on being more truthful with one another, Barrow.” He teases. He was right. The lack of retreat makes me swallow down a pool of saliva in my mouth. My mouth opens quicker than I can react, words spilling out before they can even form in my head.

“I need more. Come on Cal. You know I do.” I responded, voice hushed and quick. I half surprised myself at how desperate his name comes out, sounding different; As if I haven’t been indulged by him in a while. Truth is, I find myself always wanting more despite how sated I get left everyday by him. It’s become a norm for me to beg the exiled Prince, apparently. A clueless moth daring to fly itself closer to the flame.

“There we go.” He mutters against my skin, pressing tender kisses over my cheek. They trail down lazily to my jaw, then neck. Which each kiss, painful bites adorning me. More of his teeth graced downwards; Every hint of teeth pulling a hiss from me. But just as quick, he kisses whatever skin he damages, making me sigh out happily. He sucks what exposed skin he can find, too lazy to pull my shirt off just yet; Slowly sinking down to his knees and leaning back on his heels as his fingers prod the dark fabric that are my pants.

I stare down at him with a puzzled look, eyes searching him for any explanation. At this angle and our height difference, he’s perfectly aligned at my crotch. The gears in my head finally click in place and begin a smooth circular motion, turning my confusion into a pleasant shock.

I gasp at the realization, watching him tug at the material and pull them down harshly. He pats at the outer section of my thigh, silently asking to help. Catching on; I hesitantly raise a foot, letting him tug a leg free from both my pants and wet underwear. He shifts his attention to do the same to the other leg, but doesn’t reach all the way through, leaving it halfway down my calf. A bad habit we’ve formed, never fully undressing. Though, even as I still had the articles of clothing on; I’ve never felt more exposed under his watchful eyes.

My heart thumps heavily in my chest, watching him intently as a trembling hand finds itself in the locs of his hair. “Cal.” I whisper his name for the millionth time today; This one is unsure, but a sliver of curiosity can’t help but find its way through my voice.

He looks up through lidded eyelids, and winks at me. “Just trust me,” He answers back with a smile, rough hands sliding up my bare legs and wrenching them open with ease. A choked sound leaves me, feeling very bare and naked. Embarrassment grew, my face feeling impossibly hot as blood bubbles up.

He presses quick kisses on the inner section of my thighs, sucking harshly occasionally and making bruised skin blossom beneath his pecks. I steal in a breath, trying to calm the drumming in my chest, threatening to tear me apart. With every kiss my legs jolt; The nerves under my skin pump with electricity begging to be released. Cal’s fingers squeeze against the plush skin, making his grip sure against me. For a moment I’m afraid he’ll get shocked, a pulse dangerous close to the skin he touches. I stare at him, eyes darting all over his figure as he focused more on what’s in front of him. He presses one last kiss on one of my inner thighs, much closer to my aching pussy.

Before I can process it, his dives himself quickly to my groin, mouth opening to wrap itself around it. All worries that previously clouded my head were gone, replaced by the sunny warmth of his tongue. It spreads through me in crashing waves that make my body stiffen, engulfing me in a fiery heat. I groan softly when I feel his tongue lap up at my entrance, moving to drag itself in between my folds, lastly reaching at my clit and circling. My grip on Cal’s hair tightens, fighting back the urge to sit on his face and get devoured properly. He reluctantly closes his eyes to concentrate.

The motions of his tongue is repeated, starting the process all again and making the muscle in my legs strain. His mouth makes wet noises as it works against my bottom half, the vulgarity of it all making my head spin and the room feel unbearably Hot. The balmy sensation clings to my skin, and I don’t notice the slow palm trailing up my thigh.

With a gasp; Cal pulls his face back, chin covered in slick that glistened under the warm orange and red sunlight. Before I can speak, mouth open to throw some sort of question, his fingers replace his mouth and he drags his index and middle one from my clit to my entrance in a singular motion, coating them with slick. I suck in a breath, pulsing static running up from weak legs to the very top of my head. The hairs on my body stand on pointed ends, similarly to whenever I train on Stormhill. Whatever snarky words were ready to leave me, find themselves caught in my throat; Swallowed down.

With no resistance, he pushed both fingers drenched with wetness inside. Somehow it feels more overwhelming than the previous times he done it, maybe because this is the first time his face was so close to something so intimate of mine. Or maybe from the previous teasing, my body so desperately wanting to let go. I groan out loudly as my knees buckle, threatening to fall.

Cal’s free hand, now at my hips, holds me in place. He watches me with blown out pupils, lips parted as he caught his breath. He wastes no time, pulling his fingers back for a brief moment before ramming them back inside and settling into a brutally quick pace.

My mouth drops again, trying to process the fast motions of his wrist while pathetic sounds get pulled out of me. I grunt when squelching sounds fill the room, much louder than the sounds of his tongue against me, but not enough to drown out my voice. He leans forward again, his mouth latching onto my bundle of nerves as he fingered me. Fat, eager tears swelled up in my eyes, making my vision blurry. His tongue swirls at the bud, making my hips buck into his mouth involuntarily before I’m stopped; His free hand’s grip on me tightens, and he stills me, restraining my movement. I tug at Cal’s hair in response, pulling at the strands as his mouth created a suction. He groans lowly at the pull of his hair, sending a delicious wave of vibrations through me and forcing me to hunch over as even more moans slipped through my lips.

This does nothing to stop his motions, and I rapidly bat my eyelashes, trying to look at him through my vision with tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. I find him staring at me back, his gaze unwavering and pierced right through me; Eating up every reaction in a different way and making me clench out of instinct. He curled his finger, hitting at the spongy spot inside and forcing out a choked, surprised sound from me. My legs shake, threatening to give out on me with every second. Cal ensures I stay put, even as I leaned over his form that’s kneeling and latched on me.

With his hungry eyes, digits drilling into me, and the steady suction his lips had wrapped around my clit, it was hard to hold back the wiring deep in me.

I easily let it go, feeling it quickly unraveled itself deep inside me.

With a loud moan filling the room, and bright hot light blinding me; I cum in his tongue. I pull on his hair desperately, feeling his nose press against my pelvic bone while he continues his motions; Easing me through my orgasm and continuing to work my body. The tips of his fingers continue to crash waves of pleasure through me, until the warmth of his mouth paired with his fingers prying me open feels too much. I pull at his hair, pealing him off my pussy with an audible pop. It stills his movements, silently communicating that I need a break.

I drag his head backwards, chin angled up at me. I scrunch up together my eyebrows, noticing how his bottom half of his face was somehow even more drenched before, slick reaching its way down to his throat. It sends more pangs of need through me, and I bring his head forward slowly, watching how his eyes never leave me.

For a few seconds we remain like this; Silently staring at each other, studying each of our features as always. Our chests rapidly moved out of sync, the previous squelching sound now replaced by our heavy breathing. I move slowly, leaning my body back against the surprisingly cool wall and closing my eyes to ground myself. I loosen my grip on his hair, hand suddenly feeling heavy dropping to my side. I feel as Cal pulls his fingers out of me slowly, perceiving eyes dotting sensitive I feel. His free hand lets me go once he’s sure I won’t trip forward.

I hear shuffling, until I feel his body heat in front of me and I open my tired eyes to look.

I still at the sight of him licking his fingers clean, tongue lapping at the last traces of me on his hand. He looks content, almost as if he purposely wanted me to see him do it. All I can do is stare in awe, my legs and arms alike still twitching from the recent orgasm. With a pop, he pulls out his now clean fingers and wipes his wet chin on the back of his palm. His manner don’t seem of a Royal Prince at all, reminding me much of a starved animal eating scraps of food.

He doesn’t miss my staring, “My compliments to the chef.” He jokes, and I make a face at him in distaste, cringing.

“You’re terrible.” I answered back, voice hoarse that matches my look. He shrugs my disappointment with a smirk, wrapping two hands around my waist.

“Think you can come up with something better?” He asked as I wrap weak arms around his neck. He brings me towards him, easily dragging me off the wall.

“Ugh. You’re so difficult today.” I scoffed, strong arms slid from my waist to the bottom of my ass, with little effort they pull me upwards. He holds me up as we walk over his bed.

Cal walks quickly to the bed with long strides, plopping me down on the soft cushioning. The familiar thin pillows lay behind my head, faintly smelling of him and clean. I let go of his neck and subconsciously press my legs together lowly, a useless attempt to cover parts of me that have been exposed many times to Silvered man.

I eye him as he stood at the edge of the bed, watching as he starts to bring his shirt over his head. I hungrily watch, not missing the obvious tent of his jogging pants. Guilt kicks me hard in the gut. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, voice coming out surprisingly soft. He dropped the shirt onto the ground, knowing what I’m referring to.

“Wanted to focus just on you.” He replies, winking again playfully.

I huffed as my cheeks got coated in crimson, pretending to be upset as I watched him pull at his own pants now. “Whatever.” I grumbled, knowing arguing with him today would be a losing battle. I hesitantly lay my head down on the pillow, staring up at the wall. “I’ll pay back the favor next time.”

He hums in response, and I feel the mattress under me dip as he settled in front of me, a calloused hand on one of my knees. “Already planning?” He pushes my leg back and towards my chest, making the soreness from earlier return painfully. I wince, looking down from the ceiling to him. “Hold on—“ I pull the leg he pushed over his shoulder, tossing the other leg right next to it so both laid comforting side by side. He laid his hand over both of my thighs, keeping them in place. “There.” I finished my sentence, not missing how Cal pales in silver.

The change of position gave him better access, and he scooted closer until his dick glided in between my drenched folds. The exchange was wordless, and a shiver is ripped out from me. Anticipation and need hung heavily in the room as he glided a few testing thrusts in between the wet skin, coating his dick with lubricant.

Before I can hear him, I feel him. I sighed out happily when I feel him pushing his length inside, the tip not stretching me out so much. Sharps sucks of breath are pulled from Cal as he inched himself further. The previous orgasm and scissoring of his fingers make it easy for him, offering no restriction as he reached closer. He’s not so slow and cautious this time, wasting no time in bottoming out.

He grunts out when his hips touch the back of my skin, the only second of stillness he gives me before he moves himself back.

I choke, losing the wind in my lungs as Cal settled into a powerful and unforgiving pace. The stamina of the soldier outmatches me, and I become flaccid at his will; Letting him bend and mold me however he finds fit.

Loud smacks reach my ears every time I feel his abdomen on the back of my thighs. It makes me throw my head back onto the pillows, my spine arching itself off the bed; My body looking for more.

For once, no sounds leaves my throat; My bod and brain too shocked to react at all. Instead, my hands claw down wanting to grab something, anything to keep myself stable. Fingers with itching electricity at its tips dig themselves into the sheets of the bed, and drag up harshly. In sync with his thrusting; The bed rocks beneath me, headboard knocking loudly against the dull wall as slaps of skin fill the room.

I moan as he fucks into the spongy spot inside me; Sparks and dotted stars blinding me again while my mouth hangs low. The hard press of his nails into my skin forces me back, making me blink away my tear filled vision.

I toss my head to the side to look at him; Cal has his eyes squeezed tight, his teeth catching the bottom of his lips. I instinctively squeeze down at the sight of him, cable wiring tangling itself back again. He grunts out, responding in kind with a stronger thrust, the steady pace never once faltering.

His grunts and my groans bounce off the walls of the small room, our skin being painted a yellow tint by the flashing lightbulb overhead. I feel it switch on and off every-time, never missing the heavy thumping of my heart. I almost don’t hear him over our sounds occupying the room, but Cal mutters praises and encouragement under his breath. His low and gentle voice contrasts deeply with the optimistic movements against me.

My legs twitch, feet curling as I notice a familiar spread of pressure inside of me. It begs to be released, and the lights blink rapidly as I breathe just as fast. Cal catches on, his eyes studying my form under the changing lighting. His movements become erratic, egging me on and pressing a kiss against my calf.

With a shriek, I cum for the second time today. I suddenly feel empty as heat engulfs the whole room, making me sweat bullets while I spasm and shake underneath his palm. It takes me various seconds to come down from my high, chest moving up and down with my heavy gasps and breaths. I bat my eyelashes, making my eyes focus as I notice the familiar warm cum on my stomach again.

Cal rests his face on my skin, pressing shapes into the plush meat of my calf with his short fingernails. He gazed at me with a tired look, heavy eyelids being the only indication of exhaust. The watching golden eyes make a static current run beneath my skin, into my veins. They map out my body, until they run back to where they came from. His touch isn’t uncomfortably warm like the room, instead making the hairs on my body excitingly as his touch tickled a little.

I let out a long sigh, digging my face onto the pillow. I decide to close my eyes and relax for a moment, basking in the comfortable silence with sex hanging in the air. Cal slowly shifts me, putting my legs down with gentle care as he makes his way next to me on the narrow bed.

I don’t open my eyes, but I can feel him staring at me. For now, time is still. We are not at war. Not some Red girl and Silver boy. It’s only the two of us in this hot room. I have to get up, take a shower, and head back home. Tuck myself under the thin covers at home and sleep in the cool room with my sister. I have to go back to being myself, finish the routine.

I keep my eyes closed, afraid that once I open them time will resume. I want to pretend some more, even if it’s just for a little bit.

Cal doesn’t bother me, joining me in comfortable silence. A hand reaches me, and it tucks a thick curl behind my ear. Gentle fingers brush away loose strands sticking to my face. Now only our soft breathing is heard, and the occasional shuffling of hair. I slowly peek open my eyes, glancing up at Cal.

I don’t mind staying in the present, as long as he’s here with me.

[xseekingsaturnx]

slipping through my fingers

A study of "I love you"/"I know" that I found in my drafts. Enjoy, all who are interested. Han Solo/Leia Organa

///

Somehow she’d always known they were running on borrowed time, precarious moments all loosely strung together by the will of luck. 

Or—by the will of the Force. She doesn’t know which. The two most prominent men in her life have such divided perspectives concerning how things come to be. Personally, Leia’s never quite believed in luck. And the Force is a little out of her element. Bygones, she supposes. 

But if either happens to exist, Leia prays one will intervene. Now would be the time. 

Please. 

Leia curses herself for not knowing, not realizing sooner. She curses this star-forsaken gas mine and Lando Calrissian’s crackling audacity. Most of all, though, Leia curses the name of Darth Vader. So help her, she has half a mind to go tearing at him full force, screams rattling her throat. 

But Leia knows better than that. It would only worsen matters. Not that things could get much worse, but she’s not in any mood to risk jinxing the situation. 

Not when Han’s life is on the line. 

“Nothing to worry about,” he’d said, upon their landing in this traitorous sky metropolis. “Trust me.” 

She’d trusted Han, truly. Really, she had. It was Lando who triggered her suspicions and it was Lando who betrayed them. Leia should’ve trusted herself, when have her instincts ever led her astray? 

Now the love of her life is being ripped from her white-knuckled grasp and Luke is most assuredly on his way, moments from tumbling into this mess, just as Vader intended. It’s a disaster, it’s a catastrophe, it all could’ve been avoided if only she—

Leia’s mind is racing faster than Coruscant traffic, there’s so much static between her ears that she hardly notices Chewbacca’s raging tantrum or Threepio’s panicked shouting. She’s lightyears away, she may as well be back in that revolting slug’s throat, that’s how utterly useless she is—

Han’s gaze locks with hers, green and brown mingling, expressions tight with sorrow and suddenly Leia is rendered immobile. The most basic of functions now sit just out of reach. Breath hanging idly in her lungs, heart resting motionless in her ribcage. For one electrifying beat they are a portrait, etched in the shattered passage of time. 

The next double-crossing second sends time barreling onward once more and in a desperate instance of impulse, Leia is grabbing his shirt and Han is crashing into her and they’re tangled together in a kiss born of a nebula. 

They’re breathing each other’s air, starved of this closeness, passion rushing through fingertips and fingers brushing through hair and all Leia wants is this. This this this, this forever, until the end of time itself. 

And just as suddenly, Han is pulled away, brute force dragging him farther from her arms, farther from her lips, farther from her, and Leia has never known a pain like this. 

That pain—that hollow, yawning cavern spreading through her chest—is what drives her to the words.

Words she’s never said, words that were always reserved for family, words so powerful that perhaps Leia’s gripping some obscure hope that they might reconcile this tragedy. 

The words leap from her mouth.

“I love you!”

They explode, echoing across the chamber, dancing their way to Han’s awareness and she sees the way his eyes flood with something cosmic. 

“I know.”

He knows.

He knows he knows he knows—

That smart-mouthed son of a bantha, of course he knows, he’s known all along but she’s too late, too late, and the platform is lowering and Han is disappearing and—stars, if the circumstances weren’t so bone-achingly grievous, she might actually laugh. 

He knows. 

That information isn't much but it’s enough, it’s enough to fill the chasm, it’s enough to soften the sharp-edged agony coursing through the tunnels of her veins. Twin tears streak down both cheeks and she doesn’t even care, she doesn’t care about her reputation or her image or anything.

With a final inkling of self-preservation, Leia turns away, burying her face in Chewbacca’s fur coat because she can’t watch anymore. Everyone has limits. She should’ve reached hers years ago. It’s nothing short of miraculous that her knees have the strength to keep her standing, the cold, durasteel floor has never looked so enticing.  

Threepio is rambling on, robotic anxiety rolling from his speakers. Leia hopes Lando feels this anguish, she hopes he’ll remember it for the rest of his back-stabbing, rotten existence in this merciless galaxy. She hopes the torment of guilt will haunt his sleepless nights, she hopes it’s unbearable. 

And when the steaming slab of carbonite is lifted from within, Leia’s eyes have a mind of their own and she risks a treacherous glance. 

There he is. Her whole heart, frozen in a contortion of dismay. Stuck there. Trapped there. She wonders if he felt it. She wonders if he was afraid. 

She shouldn’t have looked.

Vader’s imperious rumble cuts through the air, “Well, Calrissian? Did he survive?”

A question, reminding her how dire these circumstances really are, reminding her he might not have survived— 

Leia’s stomach lurches with anticipation and she’s seconds away from another spiral, but then Lando chimes in. 

“Yes, he’s alive. And in perfect hibernation.” 

Relief. Alleviation rushing across sweat-soaked skin, premature consolation spreading like the sunlight of daybreak. He’s alive. Han is alive. And despite the trials she knows are about to bend her in half, Leia feels oddly renewed. Love has finally found her. She sure as hell isn’t about to let it slip through her fingers.

[prtcts]

muse's life experiences

Killed Someone Under Orders | Had Someone Killed On Their Orders | Killed Someone In Self Defense | Spared Someone’s Life | Invented Something  | Been Hungover | Kissed Someone | Slow-Danced | Been In A Long-Term Relationship | Had Sex | Had Sex And Regretted It | Had A One-Night Stand | Had A Threesome | Experimented With Their Sexuality | Had A Kid | Adopted A Kid | Wanted To Have A Family With Someone | Done Something On Impulse They Regretted | Gone Traveling | Had A Bounty Put On Them | Eaten An Insect | Been Groped By A Stranger | Been Groped By Someone They Know | Been Dumped | Dumped Someone | Smoked | Gotten High | Flirted With Someone To Get Free Drinks | Put Someone In A Headlock | Won A Bet | Lost A Bet | Forgiven Someone Who Wronged Them | Indulged In Petty Revenge | Hallucinated | Has A Noticeable Physical Defect | Gotten A Noticeable Scar | Been Permanently Disfigured Through Injury | Kneed Someone In The Groin | Had An Unattainable Crush | Laughed Themselves To The Point Of Tears | Been Kidnapped | Been Brainwashed/Hypnotised |Had A Recurring Nightmare |

Been Bullied | Bullied Someone | Experienced Survivor’s Guilt | Been Tied/Chained Up | Given Someone A Massage | Received A Massage | Been Backed Up Against A Wall | Shot Someone | Stabbed Someone | Saved Someone’s Life | Cheated On Someone | Been Cheated On | Been In An Open Relationship | Had A Friendship With Benefits | Been In A Queerplatonic Relationship | Had A Stalker | Been Betrayed | Been A Traitor | Been Possessed | Been In A Bar Fight | Been Thrown Out Of A Bar | Been Arrested | Broken Out Of Jail | Been To A Funeral | Been To A Brothel | Had Surgery | Broken Someone’s Trust | Broken Someone’s Heart | Had Their Heart Broken | Broken/Damaged Something Out Of Anger | Broken/Damaged Something Out Of Spite | Gotten A Piercing | Gotten A Tattoo | Used A Fake Name | Been Beaten Up | Been Tortured/Tortured Others | Been Abused | Been Blackmailed | Gotten Away With A Crime | Framed Someone Else For A Crime They Committed | Shared A Bed Platonically | Been In Love | Suffered From Sleep Paralysis | Been Forced To Flee Their Home | Learned A New Language | Joined A Rebellion | Fought On The Losing Side Of A War | Fought On The Winning Side Of A War | Become A Godparent | Become An Aunt/Uncle

tagged by: @vanishinq​  tagging: steal it and tag me.

[greenapplespider]

Blood In Moderation: Jeffery (character study)

Other short stories, plots, and character bio’s in the series: x , x , x , x, x, x

Dark themes; warnings include gore, child abuse, murder, trafficking, and animal death

The ripping, squelching, sound of bone being torn from it’s sinew and muscle echoed between ancient trees- the only sound in an otherwise silent forest. As oversized canines sunk back into still flesh.

Wasn’t enough, never enough. No matter how much he ate, how much he drank- until his emaciated torso would bulge painfully; sloshing, nauseatingly, as he moved. It wasn’t enough.

Naked, pale, skin stained with the burgundy build up of old blood. Mottling his sickly body with faux bruising. The dark stains matched his stringy, matted, hair. Perhaps a man at one point but perhaps a monster for longer. His thoughts were jumbled and stilted, incapable of much beyond perusing what seemed to be an unending need to eat and drink.

To find something- anything- that could make him feel full. He couldn’t put it into words- that eloquence a distant memory- but he knew if he could just find the right thing to eat, to tear into, to drink dry; it would make him feel better, so he could think again. Because he had something to do- something important- but he couldn’t remember, couldn’t think anymore.

Incapable of being able to even vaguely conceptualize what it ‘was’, the promise he had made to himself and a pretty face, framed in blonde; it would slip away every time he woke. He was left with nothing but the most base form of anxiety; the bone feeling at his core that he needed to do something.

A scream echoed off the trees, somewhere far away. He pushed away from the carcass and stood, absently fingering the puncture wound in his stomach where one of the things antlers had stabbed him. He cocked his head, listening. The sound- that scream, it was something new- something that maybe- his heart was pounding.

And there it was, what a smell, his mouth watered like a dying man’s despite all that he had just eaten. He almost collapsed, that sweet smell; his legs shaking in anticipation as he snapped forward- the atmosphere crackling around him in static.

Oh my, he could hear the earth singing to him, urging him forwards- lightening crackling beneath his skin- towards heightened, panicked voices and the several loud bangs that followed.

Undeterred, even though a distant part of him knew such bangs spelled pain and potential death even for a thing like him. Spurred on, ever closer, by the small, high pitched, cry’s that promised to finally sate him.

A resounding crack of flesh against flesh arresting the sweat sobs, breaking the spell and giving him pause. He slowed his gate, stalking closer.

"Did you have to kill the woman?” Huffed an annoyed voice.

"Sorry- only meant to kill the husband, but she charged us- and well-" answered the other, sheepishly. “She’s still warm if you wanna-"

"Fuckin’ nasty ass-" the other yelled over the snickering now filling the clearing.

“It’s alright- besides the girls old enough, and I didn’t hit her that hard- she’ll be alright in an hour or so. We’ll get a good price too." The man said as he knelt down to start fiddling through the pockets of a still body.

Green, cat-like, eyes watched unseen from the tree line. The silence of the forest ringing through the clearing, causing one of the men to stiffen, looking over his shoulder. "Let’s hurry it up." He snapped at his partner.

They rummaged quickly through the campsite. A palpable unease enveloped the area, making the air heavy- he could hear the up tick in their heartbeats as the seconds dragged by. They may not have seen him yet but even the dullest prey knew on some level when they were being watched.

It didn’t take long for an opportunity to present itself. When both men had their backs turned to him he jolted forward, already close enough to touch- and touch he did. He placed a shocking touch to the closest man’s back- unable to make a sound, body seizing- before it could hit the ground he already had his hands on the other man’s arm; wrenching and twisting until he felt bones snap underneath skin.

Sweet screams once again echoed through the clearing, just as shrill but deeper then before. The screams turned to gasping cry’s and whimpers as he bit into the man’s neck; sounds growing softer the longer and longer he drank. The body in his arms went limp and- there it was- he couldn’t help the moan that escaped his bloodied lips as he pulled back, looking down at unseeing, glassy, eyes.

Movement to his side drew his attention; the other man, body still wracked with shivers, had been trying to pull himself away from the gruesome display. The man was saying something- begging maybe, his mind supplied- as fat, ugly, tears rolled down dirty cheeks.

He stalked over to the other, relishing in the way the man’s voice quivered. The man was trying to reach for something- short metal stick- gun. He grabbed one of the man’s ankles pulling him away from the weapon and forcing him onto his back. He straddled the man’s waist, pinning him to the forest floor. Sluggish hands had the audacity to try and push him away.

A barking laugh escaped his mouth as he leaned forward, wrenching the man’s head to the side, exposing a strained neck; he sunk his teeth into the struggling flesh before him. Ah fuck- Jeffery thought to himself as he drew mouthful after mouthful of blood into himself.

The body underneath him eventually stilling, but it didn’t matter he finally had it. He could feel himself teetering on the edge of something- just need a little bit more.

Jeffery pulled back, staring up at the branches above him. He could hear the ebb and flow of everything again- it was so beautiful. Loud and horrible and too much, but- the crack of a stick boomed off silent trees.

Jeffery snapped his head in the direction of the offending noise, making eye contact with a small figure who was attempting to back away. He stood off the corpse below him, turning fully to face the girl. Perfect.

He hadn’t even realized he’d moved, teeth already sinking into supple flesh- small hands weakly pounding at his head and neck. Taking in the first mouthful- it had to have been the best thing he’d ever tasted. Sweet and vibrant, virgin- blonde, a stray lock of the girls hair was in his face- blonde.

Jeffery ripped himself away, gasping, as he pushed the girl; she fell to the ground several feet away, bleeding and weakly sobbing. He brought a hand to his mouth, staggering, he backed away from the girl, tripping over the corpse behind him. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck- fuck. He couldn’t rip his eyes away, he’d almost- fuck- she didn’t even look 13.

The girls cry’s grew hoarser and the bleeding wouldn’t stop. Jeffery needed too, he had too, but he’d almost just- shit. He made his clumsy, shaking, hands grasp down at the clothing that the body underneath him wore, tearing off a long strip. He made to get up and approach the girl, stopping as he noticed his state of undress; he swallowed down his embarrassment and forced himself get up and walk towards the girl.

She stared at him with watery, unfocused, eyes as he knelt down next to her. He reached out as she tried to flinch away from him. "S- sorry-," he stuttered out, voice long unused. "So s-sorry." He pressed the cloth to her neck as firm as his shaking hands would allow. She looked at him with fear and confusion.

Hospital- girl needs a hospital. But Jeffery didn’t even know where they were or how long it had even been since- he shook his head, that was something to figure out later. Torca had a big hospital- perhaps if they were close enough he could teleport the girl.

"Is- does Torca city still exist?" He rasped at the girl. "Big hospital?" He tried to smile but could feel the blood drying on his face, he must look terrifying. The girl’s confusion was starting to over take her fear, or perhaps she was becoming delirious.

"Torch city?" She asked staring up at him, dumbly, voice barely audible . "I live there, with my- mom and dad-" tears returned to the girls eyes as she glanced over at the women, face down in the dirt.

Oh- he followed the girls gaze to the woman and the man’s who’s pockets had been gone through- was that what he had interrupted? "How close?" He asked, looking back down at the girl.

"Two hour drive." She said, eyes starting to droop. Whatever that meant.

Jeffery clenched his jaw, well- here’s hoping Torca city was still where he remembered it and that they hadn’t moved the hospital. He brought a flare of static to his hands; the cloth falling away without his pressure. Touching each of his finger, on both hands, to their respective thumbs. Focusing the magic in and around him he touched the girl gently sending her away to that hopeful destination.

The forest floor rushed up to meet his face as he slouched forward. His nose bleeding as everything started to fade out- perhaps Torca was a little further then he had thought. Adrien would have to wait.

[hippolotamus]

Thanks for the tags @shortsighted-owl @spotsandsocks @alyxmastershipper @911onabc @elvensorceress @jesuisici33

IDK how I feel about all of this, but have some more from with my heart in my lap 😊

Inside Rose Manor, Alexis is greeted by the typical sounds of a Saturday afternoon. A news report crackles through the radio from her father’s study, a faint voice fighting to be heard over the static, about rumors of potential trouble in Europe and other worldly matters she doesn’t understand. Maids bustle through the halls, dusting lamps, shining glassware and polishing silver that doesn’t need the attention except to avoid Moira Rose’s wrath over an errant fingerprint. The needless tasks leave them all too busy to notice Alexis entering the library.

She goes to the nearest shelf, grabbing the first book to catch her eye — Goodbye to Berlin — and tucks it into the blanket still in her arms. The volume is a fairly recent addition to the family collection, but she’s also sure it’s for looks and no one will actually miss it. Like her and David’s place in the family, another showpiece leaving an overlooked empty space.

Up the sweeping white marble staircase, past the guest rooms, and into the east wing, Alexis is finally in the safety of her bedroom, with the door locked, just in case. She hurriedly lowers her bundle and grabs her diary from the nightstand drawer, as well as a pen.

The diary is mostly blank except for half a page recounting the day David gave it to her when she turned seventeen. She always intended to use it more, but found life was too busy to pause and write it all down. At the top of the first empty page she neatly writes the date and a simple entry.

From T - meadow

Countless other thoughts she wishes she could record swirl through her mind. Thoughts about freckles and jade and simple touches that she’s positive could sustain her for a lifetime. Instead, she gently pulls the daisy from her hair, lays it underneath the drying ink, and closes the diary. She stacks Goodbye to Berlin and the jewelry box on top for extra weight.

I suppose it’s still Sunday somewhere so I’ll tag @stereopticons @blackandwhiteandrose @apothecarose @rmd-writes @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy @littlebitofdiaz @monsterrae1 L❤️ML @lizzie-bennetdarcy @vanillahigh00 @waknatious (if I missed tagging you I’m very sorry my brain has a big case of The Fog™️ today)

[inherstars]

Gears of War | Unknown Issue (1 of 5)

This is another Gears fic, technically, but you don't need to know anything about the franchise, since not much of that comes up. It's really just a character study that I wanted to write for myself in advance of Father's Day. I'll work on it more tonight. Owing to the timing, this takes place when Marcus is about 65, and the events of Gears 4 never actually happen.

He saw her coming up the road from town long before she got to the estate’s front gates.  It was ninety-five degrees out and she was rail thin, sunburned, and pushing along an old fixed-gear bicycle that was probably older than he was.

He only answered her ring at the intercom because he thought she wanted a glass of water.

The radio burst to life with a crackle of static, his basso voice coarse from disuse.  And two wars.  And a general lack of interest in the rest of humanity.

“Yeah?”  It was barely a question.

Through the grainy, flickering closed circuit camera he saw her hesitate, holding onto her bike handlebars for dear life.  Either she didn’t know the camera was there, mounted above her head, or she was afraid to look up.

“Uh.  Hi, I’m… I’m looking for Marcus Fenix?”

Huh.  Well that was unexpected.

“For what exactly,” he asked, already running through the possibilities.  There weren’t any parcels tied to that bike, but she had an old bookbag with her… could be a courier.  She was too young to be one of J.D.’s old friends, if any of them even had a reason to be here, or come calling on him.  Neither did she fit the profile of an autograph-seeker, lacking about 40 years, a spare-tire paunch, and an overwhelming eagerness to talk about military history.

The girl was taking too long to answer, and she knew it.  Finally she blurted, “It’s about Anya Stroud.”

He hated the way his chest tightened at the sound of Anya’s name, a pain so fresh and sharp that he had to take his thumb off the intercom to avoid the catch of his breath transmitting to his visitor.  Then came the anger.  Then the exhaustion.

“Kid,” he said eventually. “I hate to break it to you, but Anya’s dead.  Almost 19 years now.”

The girl’s face upturned to the camera, indistinct and flickering, but it hit him with such an unmanning wave of nostalgia that he took a step back from the monitor.

Who the fuck was this?

“Eighteen and six months,” she corrected.  “Please… I’ve come a really long way.  I just want to talk.”

Continued here.

[mya-valentine]

Beneath the Cold Exterior

Synopsis: Itadori's simple mission takes a deadly turn when a mid-grade curse turns out to be much stronger than anticipated. Exhausted and outmatched, he’s saved by Juri, a powerful and detached sorcerer with an unspoken soft spot for him. After the battle, their unlikely bond grows, despite Juri’s constant teasing and cold demeanor. When Itadori suggests they hang out, Juri reluctantly agrees, and they spend a day together outside of training, slowly revealing the layers beneath her tough exterior. As people mistake them for a couple, Itadori starts to question his own feelings and their evolving relationship.

Itadori wasn’t sure when things had gone wrong. The mission, which was supposed to be straightforward—exorcising a mid-grade curse in an old, abandoned building—had spiraled into chaos the moment he stepped inside. The curse had been much stronger than anticipated, and its speed was overwhelming. It had been toying with him for the past half hour, wearing him down, and Itadori was starting to feel the weight of his exhaustion creeping into his bones.

The curse, a twisted mass of dark, writhing tendrils, lunged at him again. Itadori barely managed to dodge, the creature's claws grazing his arm. Blood welled from the cut, but he grit his teeth, trying to keep his focus. He was running on fumes, and his cursed energy reserves were almost depleted.

“Damn it,” he muttered, wiping the sweat and blood from his face. “Why the hell is this thing so strong?”

His body ached, and his vision blurred for a second. He tried to shake off the dizziness, but the curse was relentless, closing in on him again with a vicious snarl. Itadori raised his fists, ready to make one last stand—

And then, in a blur of speed, the curse was sent flying into the wall with a sickening crunch.

Itadori blinked, his breath catching in his throat. Standing in front of him, her form crackling with barely restrained cursed energy, was Juri. Her expression was dark, the air around her humming with raw power. Her left eye glowed an eerie purple, and in an instant, Itadori felt the oppressive weight of her strength.

The curse, recovering from the blow, hissed and writhed, but Juri was already on the move. She was a streak of lightning, her foot slamming into the curse’s form before it could react. Her movements were so fast, Itadori could barely track them. Every strike was precise, every blow devastating. Within moments, the once-powerful curse was reduced to a pitiful heap, barely holding its form together.

Juri raised her hand, and with a final surge of cursed energy, obliterated the creature in a flash of purple lightning. The room fell silent, save for the faint crackle of static still lingering in the air.

Itadori stood there, wide-eyed and panting, watching as Juri straightened up and turned to him. She looked as unruffled as ever, though her usual sharp smirk was absent. Instead, she studied him with a calculating gaze, her arms crossed over her chest.

“You okay, brat?” she asked, her voice cool and detached, though there was a flicker of something else in her eyes. Concern, maybe? It was hard to tell with her.

Itadori swallowed, still trying to catch his breath. “I… yeah, I’m fine. But… why are you here?” He frowned, suddenly realizing the situation. “Did Gojo send you?”

Juri scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Gojo didn’t send me,” she said flatly. “I’m not your babysitter.”

“Then… why?” Itadori asked, genuinely confused. “Why are you here?”

Juri didn’t answer right away. She glanced at the spot where the curse had been, then back at Itadori, her expression hardening again. “I knew this mission was bullshit,” she muttered. “They lied about the grade of the curse. Figured you’d be in over your head.”

Itadori blinked, processing her words. “So… you came because you thought I’d need help?”

Juri’s gaze sharpened, and she stepped closer, poking a finger against his chest. “Don’t get any ideas, kid,” she warned. “I didn’t come because I care or any of that sentimental crap. You were about to get your ass kicked, and I’m not about to let you die on my watch. Simple as that.”

Itadori couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his face. Despite her harsh words, there was something almost… protective about the way she’d stepped in. “Well, thanks,” he said sincerely, rubbing the back of his neck. “I probably would’ve been toast if you didn’t show up.”

Juri narrowed her eyes at him, clearly irritated by his gratitude. “Just don’t make it a habit, okay? I’ve got better things to do than cleaning up your messes.”

Itadori nodded, though the warmth in his chest didn’t fade. Even if Juri wouldn’t admit it, the fact that she’d come for him—without Gojo sending her—meant something. It meant she cared, even if she didn’t want to.

As they walked out of the crumbling building together, Itadori couldn’t help but glance over at her, a thought tugging at the back of his mind. Maybe Juri wasn’t as detached as she wanted everyone to think. Maybe, deep down, she had her own reasons for watching out for him.

But he kept that thought to himself. He knew better than to push her buttons.

Juri, still crackling with residual energy, gave him a sidelong glance. “You’d better be stronger the next time I see you, brat,” she said, her tone sharp but not unkind.

Itadori grinned, nodding. “I will be.”

— — —

After the mission, things had settled into a familiar routine for Itadori and Juri. Their training sessions had become more intense, and despite her tough exterior, Juri’s presence was a constant in his life. She’d saved him more times than he could count, and even though she never admitted it outright, he could tell that she had his back. 

It was a few days after their last mission together when Itadori found himself thinking about Juri more than usual. She was different from anyone he had ever met—strong, fierce, and unrelenting, yet there was something beneath all that cold exterior. Something that intrigued him.

One day after training, he worked up the courage to ask her. They were sitting on the grass, taking a rare moment to catch their breath after a particularly grueling session. Juri leaned back, staring up at the sky, while Itadori fidgeted next to her, trying to figure out the best way to bring it up.

“Hey, Juri?” Itadori finally said, his voice hesitant.

Juri didn’t look at him, but he saw the slight raise of her brow, a signal that she was listening. “What?”

“I was wondering… do you want to, like, hang out sometime? Outside of training?” He tried to sound casual, but his nerves were getting the best of him. “You know, like grab something to eat or… I don’t know, just chill?”

Juri turned her head to look at him, her expression unreadable. For a moment, she just stared at him, and Itadori felt his stomach twist. Had he overstepped? She wasn’t exactly the ‘hang out’ type.

“You asking me out on a date, brat?” Juri asked, her voice flat but laced with her usual sarcasm. It wasn’t the first time she’d teased him like this, but there was something in the way she said it that made his heart skip a beat.

Itadori’s face immediately flushed. “N-No! I mean—uh, no, it’s not like that! I just thought, you know, maybe we could hang out as… friends?” He mentally kicked himself. Why was this so hard?

Juri smirked, clearly amused by his flustered reaction. “Friends, huh?” She rolled the word around like she was testing it, her smirk growing wider. “You’re really something, kid.”

Itadori scratched the back of his head nervously. “I just thought it could be fun. No pressure or anything.”

For a long moment, Juri didn’t respond, and Itadori was convinced she was going to turn him down. But then she sighed, sitting up and cracking her neck.

“Fine,” she said, much to his surprise. “But don’t expect me to go easy on you just because we ‘hang out.’” She made air quotes around the words, her smirk returning. “I’m still going to kick your ass in training.”

Itadori blinked in surprise, then smiled wide. “Deal! I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

Juri shook her head, still amused but with a hint of something else in her gaze. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.” She stood up and stretched. “Alright, brat. We’ll hang out. But don’t make a habit of it.”

Itadori jumped to his feet, practically beaming. “Got it!” He couldn’t hide his excitement. 

Juri shot him a side glance, her smirk softening just a little. “You’re really weird, you know that?” 

Itadori grinned. “Yeah, I get that a lot.” 

As they headed back toward the school, Itadori couldn’t help but feel that this was the beginning of something new—something he wasn’t quite ready to admit, but definitely curious to explore.

— — —

Itadori was practically bouncing with excitement as he waited for Juri outside the school. He had never expected her to agree to hang out, but now that she had, he couldn't contain himself. The day felt perfect, the weather was sunny but not too hot, and there was a buzzing energy in the air that made him feel optimistic. 

When Juri finally showed up, she looked the same as usual—casual, yet somehow intimidating. Her street clothes were a leather jacket, ripped jeans, and a black tank top that showed off the muscles she’d earned from years of combat. She had her usual tough demeanor, but there was a slight air of curiosity about her, as if she wasn’t entirely sure why she’d agreed to this.

"You look like a puppy waiting for a treat, brat," she said, popping a piece of gum into her mouth as she approached.

Itadori grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. "Just excited to spend some time outside of training."

Juri snorted, clearly amused. "Yeah, well, let’s see how long that excitement lasts. What’s the plan?"

"There's this arcade not too far from here. Thought it could be fun, maybe grab something to eat afterward?" Itadori suggested.

Juri raised an eyebrow. "An arcade? You sure that’s the kind of thing for someone like me?"

"Why not? It’s fun! Plus, they’ve got this fighting game that I think you’d love," he said, grinning. "It’s all about speed and precision, your kind of thing."

Juri shrugged, clearly indifferent, but Itadori noticed the glint of interest in her eyes. "Alright, lead the way."

The walk to the arcade was relatively quiet, Juri walking with her hands shoved into her jacket pockets while Itadori occasionally glanced at her, still a little in awe that they were actually doing this. Despite her sharp tongue and cold exterior, he’d come to admire her in more ways than one. She was strong, confident, and, in her own way, cared about him—even if she'd never admit it.

When they arrived at the arcade, Juri looked around with mild interest. The lights were flashing, the sounds of games and excited players filled the air, and there was an undeniable energy that made Itadori smile.

"Alright, show me this game," Juri said, her eyes narrowing in challenge.

Itadori eagerly led her over to the fighting game he had in mind. It was one of those fast-paced, combo-heavy games where every move mattered. Juri leaned forward as she took in the controls, her eyes quickly scanning the screen as the demo played.

"I’ll go easy on you," Itadori teased, laughing.

"Please," Juri scoffed. "You’d better hope the machine still works after I’m done with it."

The first match was over in seconds. Juri’s character moved like lightning, chaining combos faster than Itadori could even react. He lost. Badly.

"Yup," Juri said, leaning back with a smug grin. "Just like I thought. I win."

Itadori blinked, stunned. "That was… incredible!"

Juri chuckled, clearly enjoying herself. "I’m fast, brat. You should know that by now."

They spent the next hour going head-to-head in various games. Juri dominated in most of them, though Itadori managed to win a few—mostly through sheer luck. Despite her initial reluctance, Juri seemed to be having fun, and Itadori couldn’t help but feel proud of himself for getting her out of her usual cold, distant attitude.

Afterward, they headed to a small diner nearby. It was a cozy place, not too crowded, with a casual atmosphere that seemed to suit both of them. They ordered some burgers and fries, and for the first time, Itadori noticed Juri relaxing just a little. She even took off her jacket, revealing more scars than he had ever seen before, each one telling its own story of battle and survival.

As they ate, they talked. Well, Itadori talked mostly. Juri would occasionally add in a snarky comment or a short answer, but she wasn’t as closed off as usual. Itadori couldn’t help but notice how different she seemed when she wasn’t in ‘battle mode.’

At one point, while they were sitting in a comfortable silence, an older couple sitting nearby glanced at them and smiled.

"You two are such a cute couple," the woman said, her voice warm and friendly.

Itadori’s face immediately turned bright red. "Oh, we’re not—!"

Juri’s eyes narrowed, and her voice was flat as she interrupted him. "We’re not a couple."

The woman laughed softly, waving her hand. "Of course, dear, of course. You just have that kind of energy."

Itadori awkwardly cleared his throat, trying to change the subject as quickly as possible, but the encounter stuck with him. He couldn’t stop thinking about it, especially after the second time it happened when they were getting popcorn at the movie theater. 

A girl had been flirting with Itadori while Juri was off getting drinks, but the moment Juri returned, the girl had shot him an apologetic glance and hurried off.

"Uh… what was that about?" Itadori asked as Juri handed him his drink.

Juri shrugged, not seeming to care. "People are idiots. Don’t read into it."

But even as she said it, Itadori couldn’t shake the feeling. As they walked back to school later that evening, the sun setting behind them, Itadori stole a glance at Juri. She seemed completely unfazed by everything that had happened, her usual stoic mask firmly in place.

Still, for some reason, he couldn’t stop thinking about the way people kept mistaking them for a couple. And even though he tried to push the thought aside, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to it than just appearances. 

And for the first time, he found himself asking a question he hadn’t dared to before: Did he want there to be more?