#cold air and cigarettes for lonely souls

[thetremblingroofbeam]

[seonghwaddict]

the lamb and the wolf — park seonghwa

in which all he wanted was someone to love in his dark, lonely world… and then you came along.

hades!park seonghwa x fem!reader. genre. strangers to lovers. fluff. smut. warnings. he’s literally obsessed with mc, ankle injury, alcohol consumption, mention of cannibalism as a metaphor for love but it’s not really explicit, mc is described as innocent, explicit sexual content mdni, oral (f. receiving), unprotected, soft dom!hwa, big dick!hwa, praise, creampie. wc. 7.2k. rating. mature.

lilo’s notes. i’ve been working on this for two-ish months and i’m so happy to finally share it. writing this was fun, i love writing men infatuated with their lovers <33 the letter he reads does not belong to me and comes from “Albert Camus, María Casares. Correspondence (1944-1959)” which is a collection of love letters sent between camus and casares. this particular one is letter #95.

listening to. from persephone, kiki rockwell // sunlight, hozier // liquid smooth, mitski // cinnamon girl, lana del rey // nothing’s gonna hurt you baby, cigarettes after sex

masterlist.

the realm of the dead was terribly dark and cold and, as the name would suggest, barren of life. for seonghwa, the ruler of the underworld who had spent thousands of years in the realm, this hadn’t been a problem before. yet, he couldn’t deny the temptation of the distant sounds of chirping birds and gentle breezes humming through the air above.

he was, of course, free to leave whenever he wished to but more often than not he was busy—ruling over the souls that had passed or meetings with nymphs and the other deities. there had never been an inclination to explore, but somehow he found himself taking curious steps out of the cave entrance to his world.

and that’s where he saw you.

you weren’t a long way away from the entrance to the underworld, idling in a meadow and picking flowers and berries in a woven basket. the sunlight glinted off your rich skin, glistening on you manicured nails as your hands tended to the plants. the slow wind wafted through your soft-looking hair, making it dance in the air. he was entranced by the way the skirt of your dainty silk dress flowed as you moved around, hypnotised by the ivory fabric folding and brushing against your ankle with every step. you were beautiful in every sense of the word—but not the soft and comforting kind. no, not at all. in fact, he was quite alarmed by the notion of being so infatuated with a mortal at first glance.

seonghwa knew he was doomed from the moment he laid eyes on you. he wanted nothing more than for you to glance his way, willing to split himself in half or carve his heart right out of his chest to get a second of your attention. you spoke to yourself softly, muttering about how pretty you thought the little branch of lilac you plucked out of a bush was.

oh, how lovely your voice sounded; even the sun would not compare to it’s dulcet warmth.

a brilliant idea crossed his mind, one that he knew would get you to fall right in his grasp. and minutes later, he was able to conjure up a disturbingly realistic illusion of a rain storm. he descended back into his realm and all he had to do was wait.

you, however, flinched as the first droplets hit you. looking around for shelter, you spotted a cave entrance just a little way ahead, scrambling to sit there and wait for the storm to pass. the ground and walls felt cold against your body, nothing to separate your skin from the dark stone but your gown that was now soaked through and clung to your body.

minutes after you had sat down, a vaguely familiar scent breezed past you and had your head darting to look into the deeper part of the cave. there was no way it came from outside, not a single house in sight as the dewy smell of rain overtook the meadow. so your next most likely assumption was that it came from inside the cave. you stared into the seemingly endless abyss, squinting into the darkness for signs of, well, anything other than rocks and dirt.

and that’s when you saw it. a brief flickering flame, metres away from where you were sat. in the seconds that it lit, you could faintly make out what looked to be a staircase, descending further into a cave. an intrigued hum left you as you pushed yourself up from the ground and walked to the strange stairs, basket of berries and flowers left behind. there’s a reason they say curiosity killed the cat.

it was significantly colder as you stood at the top of the carved stairs, staring as far as you could see before they winded around and further into the unknown. another light came on, this time around the corner the stairs disappeared behind. with a final look at the exit of the cave, you began your unknowing descent into hell.

the light behind you flickered before going out, leaving you in darkness until you passed by the next torch, mounted on the damp stone. you planted your hand on the wall, afraid you’d lose your footing as each flame only lit the foreign path temporarily. the deeper you went, the colder you got. by the time you thought the stairs were endless, you could see faint puffs of white air emerging from your shaking lips with each breath you took. shivers ran through your body occasionally, your wet dress not doing anything to keep you warm.

just when you were going to give up and turn around to return to the surface, you stumbled at the unexpected absence of yet another step. your faint wince echoed through the small space as you rolled your ankle, instinctively holding yourself against the stone wall. your hand slipped from the wall for a second, a pebble falling and rolling until it stopped with an odd “clink.” you looked up in confusion to see what made the pebble stop with such a sound. looking with wide, bewildered eyes, a black and engraved set of double doors stood a few steps ahead of you. had they been there the whole time?

maybe someone lived there, someone who could help you. your father kept you safe and sound for as long as you could remember, teaching you to always see the best in people, rendering you a little sheltered and much too kind. perhaps this is what made you so trusting as you forced yourself to walk to the doors on limping legs. both doors had beautiful metal knockers mounted on them. the rusted brass resembled three dog heads, a heavy metal ring hanging from the snout of the dog in the middle. more than mildly nervous and with cold, shaking hands, you reached forward and tentatively lifted the ring of the right door before letting it knock against the dark wood.

moments later it swung open, held by a tall, pale-skinned man with slim fingers. for a moment you forgot what you were there for, caught off guard by the sharp eyes that looked down at you. your warm breath swirled in the air as you finally pieced together a sentence.

“i’m sorry, sir, but… i-i really meant to leave but i hurt my ankle…” you spoke quietly, your voice an octave higher than it usually was.

his gaze softened, the light of a torch on the wall reflecting in his dark eyes, and he smiled down at you as he opened the door wider and stepped aside. “oh, you poor thing. please, come inside.”

seonghwa watched you walk past him and into this home he had conjured up just for your arrival. it was quite dark, illuminated by a fireplace and candelabras decorating shelves and tables. he didn’t care enough to provide more light, completely entranced by the way you kneeled in front of the hearth, hands outstretched to warm them by the fire. they looked so much smaller compared to his. seeing you up close made his heart skip a beat, he wanted nothing more than to lay his hands on your smooth skin, run them through your damp hair, pat the thin and wet flowing dress dry and keep you warm. droplets of the rain ran from the top of you head down your face slowly, occasionally getting caught in your eyebrows or the corner of your beautiful lips.

he wondered fleetingly if they felt as soft as they looked. another bead of rain made it past your features, trailing past your jawline and neck. his eyes tracked it but when it disappeared under the fabric covering your chest, he refused to continue looking.

you felt his presence standing beside you a moment later, drawing your eyes—your naïve, innocent eyes—to look up at him. he offered you a hand to help you stand.

“come, love, let me take a look at your ankle,” he smiled at you kindly, pulling you up helpfully as you took his hand. once you stood, you stumbled slightly, accidentally putting weight on your injured ankle and wincing. one of his arm quickly looped itself around your waist, holding you up against him so you wouldn’t fall.

his touch was gentle yet you felt a certain firmness to it, feeling as if his warm hand was searing through your cold gown. your cheeks burned and you looked away shyly, something that had him biting back a smile as he guided you to sit at one of the sofas. he was mildly surprised by how small and delicate you felt in his arms. you felt fragile. there was something so seductive about that, the thought of breaking you in the most intimate of ways. but soon he had to let you go. after you settled into the cushions of the seat, his movements caught your eye.

your jaw nearly dropped when you saw him kneeling on the ground before you. though you weren’t aware of it, something made you so special that you had a god getting on the ground on his knees in front of a mortal. his dark eyes found yours, voice as gentle as it had been the whole time.

“may i?”

when you gave him a small nod, not trusting yourself to say anything, his hand grazed your calf before gently wrapping around your ankle and lifting it to rest on his thigh. despite his intimidating and malicious role among the deities, he was softer with you than anyone could ever imagine. he slipped off your shoe but kept your sock on, dragging the ruffled trim just under your heel so he could inspect the swelling at your ankle. the ruffles tickled you as he moved it, eliciting the most melodic giggle he’d ever heard.

when he glanced up at you, a smile stretched your tempting lips and making your smooth cheeks swell as you looked back down at him. he couldn’t help but smile, endeared by everything you did.

“it tickles.” you explained through another giggle, looking down at him. as his gaze returned to your ankle, you took note of how close he was. if he leaned forward just a little he’d be able to brush his plump lips along your knees. he knew that, of course, since he planned it. every touch, every position, every word had been meticulously planned, it was no surprise to him how close be found himself.

well, other than you getting injured, everything had been planned.

his slender finger pressed against different areas of your swollen ankle with featherlight pressure, gauging where it hurt most. you winced occasionally, but a certain spot made you flinch and whimper.

“there?” he whispered, looking up at you. his gaze was still tender as he gazed at you, his fingers pressing against that spot again with just a little more pressure. you knew he needed to check if it was really that spot, but in reality he wanted nothing more than to hear those lovely sounds tumble from your lips. to his delight, you did just that, bottom lip quivering slightly with the sound as you nodded. his gaze fell to your lips and he imagined kissing you, sucking your lower lip into his mouth, but he refocused his thoughts on your injury quickly.

“how did you even hurt yourself like this?” his other hand moved to the knee of your uninjured leg, thumb brushing small circles soothingly.

“i missed a step on the stairs and rolled my ankle.” you frowned slightly, the cute downturn if the corners of your lips almost making him coo at you. you leaned forward to catch a glimpse of your ankle but it was hard to see in the dim light provided by the fireplace and various candelabras around on shelves.

“i see… how careless of you, dear,” he tutted, fingers tapping against your knee absentmindedly, “but it’s okay, don’t worry. it’s just a small injury… wait here for a moment while i go get something, alright?”

you nodded once more and he got up, disappearing through a doorway as your eyes traced over his figure. you looked around the room as you waited patiently. it was a simple sitting room slash entrance area at first glance, but upon looking closer you found there were many little breathtaking details littered around for those who cared enough to find them. intricately embroidered golden designs decorating the wine red carpet beneath your feet, the shelves lining the wall on either side of the fireplace stocked with worn books neatly.

silent brisk steps drew your eyes back to him as the handsome stranger returned, a little glass bottle and roll of bandages held in his hands. his cheeks warmed at the sight of you sitting there so pretty and obediently. seonghwa kneeled in front of you once again and brought your foot to the same position as before.

“i’m going to apply this,” he held up the bottle for you to see, a mysterious deep blue liquid swishing around inside, “it’ll be cold and it might hurt a bit, but i promise to be gentle, okay?” after you nodded silently, he uncapped the bottle and poured a bit into his hand. “i’ll need you to stay still and relax. can you do that for me, love?”

after you gave him a muttered ‘yes’ he flattened his palm over the swelling. true to his word, the liquid he had poured into his hand was icy cold and stung a little as he rubbed it in as gently as possible. if you had to describe the feeling, you’d compared it to hundred of pinpricks concentrated on one area. it was uncomfortable, to say the least.

your eyes squeezed shut and your hands dug into the couch beneath you. you felt his touch leave your knee but a second later his hand found it’s way to yours, slipping between your fingers for you to hold him instead of tearing up his couch. he squeezed reassuringly and his heart swelled when you squeezed back.

before you knew it, his warm voice filled the silence of the room. “all done. you can open your eyes now, darling, you did so well.”

you eyes opened slowly at his words and looked down. he was peering up at you with round caring eyes, making your stomach flutter. his hand on your ankle lingered before he pulled away so you could have a look at the bandages wrapped around it skilfully, his other hand still intertwined with yours.

“thank you…?” you trailed off, indirectly asking for his name. despite him being a stranger, you somehow trusted this handsome man with your life. perhaps it was because he had shown you nothing but kindness thus far, every one of his actions illuminating warmth and care.

“of course. the ointment works fairly quickly, so you should be free to walk around just fine for a few hours at least,” his lips tugged into a small grin. he thought you were so cute, too shy to be upfront about your interest in him.

he wasn’t blind, your increased heart rate below his touch didn’t go unnoticed by him. for a moment, he considered lying to you—introducing you to an identity that didn’t exist in fear that you’d run away from him once he revealed himself. however, soon enough he came to the conclusion that he wanted you to love him, not some made up caricature. besides, he didn’t have to tell you about his occupation just yet. “it’s seonghwa.”

you tested the syllables on your tongue and he could’ve sworn honey poured right out of your mouth with how sweet you sounded. he nodded encouragingly and you gave him your name. he decided it fit you and your serene disposition. you watched with a warming face as he lifted your hand to his lips, eyes locked on yours as he kissed your knuckles.

“pleasure to make your acquaintance, love.” he winked smoothly before standing from the ground, pulling you off the couch with him. his eyes glanced down at your dress. it was still wet but not nearly as drenched as it was before, though it still clung to your body, teasing him. “you must be uncomfortable. if you want, i probably have a change of clothes for you.”

you smiled at his invitation gratefully, nodding. “i’d love that, thank you.”

“down that hall,” he pointed in the direction he went earlier to get that odd liquid, “the second door on the right is a bedroom. you’ll find some clothes in the closet, i think they’ll fit you.”

you took a step towards the hall before stopping and turning around to look at him with a questioning gaze. it didn’t take a genius to figure out what you were thinking. he fumbled to find a convincing excuse, speaking slowly. “my, uh, sister used to live with me but she moved away recently, so her clothes are still there.”

the explanation satisfied you and he watched as you followed his instructions, eyes drawn to the way you hips swayed slightly with each step. you stepped through the door he told you to, yellow candlelight seeping into the hallway before you closed it behind you. but it didn’t close fully and left you visible through the sliver. he forced his eyes away when he caught a glimpse of you pulling your gown off yourself.

just as he said, you found many suitable clothes in the shelves of the wooden dresser. the room itself was quite plain, though the bed looked more than comfortable. there were many options, though all of them seemed to be dresses of some kind. long or short, dark or pastel, silk or cotton, and everything in between. finally you settled on a flowy white nightgown, the skirt brushing against your thighs. you pulled on some clean socks and slippers and dried your hair as best you could with a towel you found before stepping out to join him in the sitting room again.

but when you got there, he was nowhere to be found. looking around in confusion, you breathed a sigh if relief when you heard him call your name for another room, beckoning you to join him. upon entering said room, it quickly became apparent it was a dining room.

the walls were practically black, much like the rest of the house so far, and made the room appear much darker than it probably actually was despite the multiple candelabras on the long wooden table and the extravagant chandelier hanging from the ceiling. he sat at the chair on the left of the head of the table, a meal set in front of the head. he gestured for you take a seat in front of it. you obliged quickly.

his eyes roamed over your figure, lips parting in a soft exhale at the sight of your bare thighs. fleetingly, he came to the conclusion he wanted to bury his head between them, let them squeeze and suffocate him as he ravished you. before he could further entertain those thoughts, the squeak of the chair brought him out of his head.

“i figured you’d be hungry, so i made a little something for you,” he spoke as you got comfortable in the seat, pushing a glass of water towards you, “i hope it’s up to your standards, dear.”

you gazed down at the bowl of what appeared to be chicken soup with vegetables before looking back up at him. “you’re too kind, really, you didn’t have to do all this for me.”

he was more than delighted by your kindness and manners, looking at him so cutely with the candlelight dancing in your eyes magically. “no but i did have to. i can’t have you sitting here, injured and starved… plus, it’s nice to have company.”

“oh?” his final sentence piqued your interest, fiddling with the handle of your spoon. “you don’t get a lot of company?”

he really didn’t, other than the souls that made down here after their bodies passed on. but that’s a conversation for another time. he shook his head slightly, lifting a glass of wine you hadn’t noticed before to his lips. he let it sit in his mouth for a moment before swallowing it and returning his gaze to you.

“not very often, no…” he explained slowly, setting the glass back on the table with a quiet clink before folding his hands beside it, elegant as ever, “people don’t tend to come all the way down here and i don’t tend to invite people over.”

a frown tugged at you lips and you turned your gaze away, feeling slightly ashamed. “i’m sorry to have bothered your peace then, seonghwa.”

he tensed, hands gripping each other just a little tighter. why on earth were you ashamed, why were you apologising? he reached over and placed a hand over your free one, momentarily distracted by how soft it felt in his grip before he was quick to reassure you. “oh no, darling, don’t you dare apologise. you’re not bothering me at all, really. it’s been a long time since i’ve enjoyed someone’s company this much.”

“r-really?” you finally looked at him again, the warmth returning to his stomach as he faintly noticed one of the straps threatening to fall off your shoulder.

“really,” he reaffirmed, turning your hand over so he could hold it properly, “i should be thanking you, if anything.”

you averted your gaze once again, this time feeling shy rather than ashamed; a fact that had him grinning. soon enough, you began eating your soup, humming at the taste approvingly after the first taste. you conversed leisurely as you ate, jumping from subject to subject naturally as if you’d known each other for years. you asked him why he wasn’t eating with you, to which he said he’d already eaten and didn’t feel hungry. this was, of course, a lie since deities like him don’t need to eat anyway.

eventually, you finished, slumping back in your seat with a yawn. “that was absolutely amazing. thank you, hwa.”

the new nickname had his cheeks tinting a soft pink but he hid it quickly. he watched you yawn. somehow everything you did felt adorable to him, the urge to scoop you up in his arms to hold you tightly and kiss you softly growing stronger by the second. if he weren’t a man with unrivalled self-restraint and patience, he would’ve done it by now.

“someone’s tired, huh?” he cooed at you, crossing one leg over the other. “you should go sleep in the room you got the clothes from. i’d prefer for you to stay until your ankle is fully healed, just in case.”

you nodded slowly, another yawn ripped from your throat as you got up and stretched your arms over your head. the movement caused the skirt of your nightgown to ride up, his breath hitching as he realised if it went up any further head be able to see your lacy white undergarments you’d borrowed from the dresser too. he distracted himself with a chuckle, standing up and guiding you out of the dining room to the bedroom by the small of your back.

before you knew it, you were on your back on the bed of the bedroom that supposedly belonged to his sister. your dress fell over your body entrancingly, tempting his hungry eyes as he stood over you, adoring the way your hair laid on the satin pillow. you turned to your side and curled up with your knees pulled to your chest. he caught a glimpse of your lacy panties before they fell over the swell of your ass as if they hadn’t moved in the first place.

thoughts swarmed his mind, none of them appropriate. he imagined your legs wrapped around his waist, burying himself into the curve of your neck, sculpted for his face to fit right there. he longed to feel your soft curves against his fingers, not a single layer of clothing separating you.

“hwa?” the way you said his name made his thoughts snap to reality as his eyes found yours. the nickname sounded so wonderful with your voice, he wanted to bottle up the sound and keep it safe on a shelf for the rest of eternity. not only that, but the way you looked at him, lips parted softly with small breaths, cheeks flushed, and eyes looking wide and innocent. oh, how innocent you smelled to him. he was torn between preserving it and corrupting it.

“yes, love?” he whispered back, brushing a strand of your hair from you face as casually as possible.

“thank you… for everything,” you whispered, peering up at him with those same glittering round eyes, “i’ll be sure to repay you for your kindness when i can.”

“there’s no need, really. it’s nothing,” he chuckled quietly, gaze flitting all over your features—you fluttering eyelashes, the slope of your nose, the curve of your neck, the slight upturn of the corners of your lips. he took a deep breath as discreetly as possible, reminding himself that there was a chance he wouldn’t be able to convince you to stay with him, he shouldn’t get too attached just yet.

somehow, he held himself back from pulling you into his arms and kissing you breathless. he pulled his hand back after letting his thumb brush against your cheekbone for a moment.

“i’ll let you rest now,” he whispered, “sleep well. i’ll see you in the morning, love.”

you muttered a soft ‘goodnight, hwa’ in return before he was out of the room and shutting the door a second later.

the door clicked shut and you heard his footsteps getting more and more distant. you let out another quiet yawn, pulling the comfortable blanket over your body and up to your chin. your room was quiet, the silence oddly comforting. something about the place had that feel and despite being so far underground, it didn’t feel claustrophobic at all. you compared it to home, your parents always bickering with each other or taking out their frustrations on you. it felt nice to be in a quiet space again, and you briefly wondered if you could stay a little longer than another day.

your eyelids became heavier with each blink in the dark before they ultimately closed completely, pulling you into a deep sleep.

though you didn’t expect it to last so long, over a week passed and you were still staying with him in his little cave house. you didn’t mind, of course, since he took such great care of you. in the week, you’d grown closer, treating each other like lovers though neither of you brought it up. he’d let you sit in his lap and you’d let him brush his fingers through your hair.

you stirred awake, one day short of having spent two weeks with him. today was one of those days where he’d gone out to run some errands, trusting you enough to leave you alone. with not much to do, you usually sat in his little library or took a nap until the evening. this time you chose the latter.

some hair clung to the thin layer of sweat on your forehead, your blanket displaced and only covering half of your left leg, having kicked it off in your sleep. for a second you couldn’t remember where you were, but memories of the previous days returned quickly and you relaxed before sitting up and looking around the room. the candle had stayed on overnight, providing light in a place where windows really couldn’t exist.

there was no indication of the time other than a clock on one of the bedside tables. assuming it was functional and accurate, it was 10:24 in the evening. you hummed, surprised you’d slept so much when usually you’d be awake hours before that. with a quiet groan, you realised there was no point in going back to bed, pulling yourself off the mattress and to the door.

you reached for the door handle but paused, pulling back to check yourself in the mirror. not wanting to look like a mess in front of seonghwa, you readjusted your dress so it sat on your body properly and tried your best to make your hair appear less messy. only then did you tiptoe your way out of your bedroom and to the sitting room.

he was back already, sat on the couch and readings a book, back straight and one leg crossed elegantly over the other. he wore something different. instead of the loose white shirt, black briefs and black corset, he now wore a black vest that had sheer black sleeves with black briefs. the neckline of his vest dipped low, revealing the lean muscles of his chest. you forced yourself to look away, settling into the armchair across from him, separated by a long coffee table.

“i don’t bite, you know,” he spoke without looking up from his book, sounding amused that you sat so far away after how close you’d been the night before.

your daze cracked, chuckling as you stood and walking around the coffee table to sit beside him on his right. though you weren’t touching, a few centimetres of space between you, you could feel his body heat radiating off him. he glanced down at your exposed thighs briefly before continuing to read, or at least trying to. his eyes were stuck on the same line for a minute, distracted by the way you leaned your head on his shoulder to read with him.

he contemplated pulling you onto his lap, missing the feel of your weight against him like the night before. you had insisted for him to carry you to bed, pouty and tired, and when he did, he had a hard time letting go of you and ended up sitting with his back against the headboard with you snuggled safely on his lap until you fell asleep.

knowing you wouldn’t mind, he moved his right arm around your waist, slipping his hand down to your hip to make pulling you onto his lap easier. once you were there, straddling him so prettily, he let you rest the side of your head on his shoulder, your nose brushing against his neck as he tried his best to maintain his focus on his book. to the world he was a merciless king, but with you in his lap he was tender and caring.

you shifted your head, trying to look down at the book he was reading. your breath tickled him as you spoke. “what’re you reading?”

“oh,” he turned the book over for you to see the title. he let you read over, revelling in the feeling of your nose and lips accidentally grazing his neck. it tested every inch if his patience. feeling your heart beat against his chest and wanting so desperately to crawl into your ribcage, cradling your heart in his hands and peppering the beating muscle with kisses. he cleared his throat. “it’s a collection of poetry and letters.”

“you like poetry?” you giggled quietly and he swore he could taste the sweetness of it.

“i do,” he nodded, the tips of his ears dusted a rosy pink, “would you like me to read some to you?”

the offer made you feel giddy for some reason, glancing up at him with a grin as you nodded. you could only imagine how poetry would sound spoken by his divine voice.

seonghwa snickered at your excitement, flipping through the pages of his book to find something worthy of your ears. he stopped at a page near the end, his hand dropping back to your hip as he began reading. he traced a finger over your hipbone as he did, the light pressure making you squirm lightly in his lap.

“i have never surrendered myself entirely to anyone but you, and only recently. and to let my heart speak, when i am pressed against you, is an emotion and a peace that overflows all imagination.”

by the time he finished reading it, you were holding your breath, heart hammering against your ribs so hard you had no doubt he’d be able to feel it. the way he said it sounded less like a recitation and more like a confession, your stomach buzzing with anticipation as you sat up to look at him face to face, eye to eye, your hands resting on his chest.

your touch drove him to insanity. the soft press of your fingers against his vest, making it that much harder to hold himself back. he wanted to hold you against him forever. to inhale your scent so that his lungs would depend on you and only you. to touch you, to kiss you, to knit your flesh to his so you’d never leave him, to devour you, consume you. he wanted to do it all.

he could only whisper, “may i?”

his words echoed what he said before tending to your ankle two weeks prior, the day you first met him. that felt so long ago, a nostalgic smile tugging at your lips as you nodded.

his hand squeezed you hip gently while the other moved to cup your jaw, wasting no time in pulling your face to his. it was a slow, reverent kiss that filled every inch of your senses with warmth. your lips felt softer than he imagined. when your lips finally touched, your fingers curled into his vest, sighing against his lips softly.

he shuddered at the sound, pulling your hips tighter against him and pressing his lips against yours a little harder, your body perfectly molded to his as if that’s where you belonged. his tongue ran along your bottom lip, not pushing into your mouth, just tasting you enough to satiate his growing hunger. despite the way your hips rolled against him, guided by his hand and eliciting subtle gasps against his lips, he couldn’t help but still find you so sweet, so innocent, as you let him kiss you breathless.

in a way, you reminded him of a little lamb, hunted by a wolf. one could say you had tamed him. he could easily tear out your throat, add you to his collection of souls, yet he decided to kiss you instead. kiss you so softly your cheeks warmed.

the next time your eyes fluttered open, you somehow found yourself in your room, still on his lap as he sat on the edge. his kisses slowed, being replaced with repeated pecks before he pulled away fully to rest his forehead against yours, panting.

he sighed your name and for a second you felt the world stop, the sound making your head spin. “darling, please, let me taste you.”

your breath hitched at his whispered request, suddenly aware of your panties sticking to your wet core. wordlessly, you nodded and he manoeuvred you to lay on your back, making sure your head rested on your pillow comfortably.

he kissed your forehead, then your lips. from there he kissed his way further down over your nightgown—your jaw, neck, shoulder, collarbone, the valley of your breast, your stomach, hipbones, the top of your pelvis—all the while murmuring praises of how beautiful you were. his hands rested on your waist and moved down to your thighs, spreading them apart without resistance as he kneeled between them.

with a final look at your curious face, looking down and following his every action with your eyes, he dragged the end of your skirt up, revealing more and more of your smooth thighs and baby blue cotton panties. he thought they were cute as he let the dress bunch up at your waist, leaning down to kiss the little satin bow of your undergarments before hooking his finger through them.

he began dragging them down but stopped abruptly when you place a hand over his own, worried eyes darting to look at you. all you had to do was say the word and he’d stop.

“no one has ever… you know,” you blushed, too shy to say no one had ever eaten you out, only giving your lower half a meaningful glance.

relieved, he chuckled lowly and kissed the hand atop his. “you know i’ll be careful, darling. just relax, okay?”

once you relaxed as he told you to, he slipped his fingers between yours, using his other hand to slip your underwear down and off you, tossing them in a random direction before finally taking a look at the parts of you he craved the most. he nearly moaned at the sight of your pink folds, glistening in the dim light as your engorged clit begged for his attention.

leaning down to kiss your inner thighs first, his tongue slid between your folds, licking an experimental stripe from your hole to your clit, drawing a soft whine from you. he himself groaned at the taste, the sweet nectar that seeped from your body.

“fuck, you taste so good.”

your thighs quivered around his head as he pushed his face deep into your heat, lapping up your juices and sucking at your nub with the desperation of a starved man. each prod of his tongue had your breath shaking, whimpering, as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. before, you figured it would feel good, but not quite this delicious.

when you came, you came with a faint cry of his name, body arching of the bed. your hand that didn’t hold his moved to his hair at some point during his meal, tugging softly as your juices gushed out and you twitched from overstimulation, his tongue unrelenting and determined to swallow every last drop of your release.

he pulled away as you tugged at his hair, moving his torso up your body to kiss you. it was less a kiss and more feverish presses against each other, his tongue wandering between your teeth and making you taste yourself. you couldn’t taste much, but to his sensitive taste buds you were the sweetest thing he’d ever had.

his hips pressed against yours and your breath hitched, feeling the weight of his erection straining against his pants and nudging your aching clit. he pulled back from your lips, searching your eyes for any sign that you wanted to stop. but you only nodded encouragingly and he grinned, his lips moving to your neck as he helped you sit up so he could pull your dress off you and finally see everything he’d been fantasising about.

he detached his lips from your pulse point to pull it the rest of the way and toss it in a random direction, his eyes trained on your breasts. they were just as pretty as he imagined, nudging you to lay down again so he could take one erect nipple into his mouth and suck and lick and kiss it and around it.

“you look so pretty right now, love,” he muttered against your skin as he kissed his way to your other breast, his hands working on releasing himself from his pants while yours unbuttoned his vest, hands shaking with want.

you closed your eyes and leaned your head back against your pillow, your fingers gripping onto his bare shoulders as he dragged his tip through your folds, gathering your wetness. he kissed your cheek.

“tell me if anything hurts, okay?”

only once you breathed an ‘okay’ did he begin pushing in. he was blessed with a cock so big and perfect it hit every sensitive spot in your walls with precision as his length filled you slowly. his tip alone had you gasping softly, moaning incoherently as your eyes rolled back and fell shut, the stretch somehow pleasing you.

when he bottomed out, his eyes were drawn to the way he could see himself pressing through the bottom of your stomach, groaning as he passed his hand over the area and felt the bump. he stilled inside you, not moving until you told him so.

“p-please move, hwa.”

his pace throughout was relaxed, slow but not painfully slow, just enough roughness to his grinds to leave you breathless without tipping you over the edge just yet. it was when his hand slipped under your waist and angled you differently that you began feeling the familiar knot tighten in your abdomen.

he had a hard time stopping himself from releasing the moment he entered you, your walls hugging him so perfectly he choked back a moan with each stroke. everything about you felt as if you’d been made for him to worship, for him to indulge in. before you had come along, there was that occasional craving of romance, of wanting someone. he longed for someone to hold his hand, whose eyes replied to his so lovingly.

and there you were, beneath him, squeezing one of his hands while your dilated pupils showed him just how much you wanted him too.

you bit down on your bottom lip to hold back your sounds, something that made him chuckle and kiss the bridge of your nose. “don’t be shy, i want to hear you.”

his quiet praises made your face warm, letting out the softest of moans as his words shot straight to your core.

“you take me so well, love.” “you’re so precious and all mine.” “keep your eyes on me, darling.”

at some point his deep slow strokes grew needy and faster, pounding against your g-spot repeatedly as moans and whimpers of the two of you filled the room, hot breaths mingling with each other. your next orgasm crashed down on you with little warning, your walls squeezing around him as he muffled your sounds with his lips.

he came soon after that, filling you with his release after you had told him it was okay. his face dropped into the crook of your neck, cock twitching until his body slumped against yours.

after cleaning you up with a damp towel and slipping a new pair of panties over your legs, he joined you in bed once more and wrapped his arms around you. your legs tangled together and your chest pressed against his, your head tucked under his chin as you drifted back to sleep, lazy kisses placed onto the crown of your head.

he sighed softly and shut his eyes, filled with thoughts. now that he’s had you, he could hardly see himself letting go of you. but why would he? you were all he wanted and more.

networks. @cromernet @wonderlandnet @cultofdionysusnet @pirateeznet

permanent taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo @yalyallic @yunhoswrldddd @coffee-addict-kitten @thunderous-wolf @chngbnwf

[luvkuvi]

34 – invisible string !

What's so good about him ?!

Scaramouche x reader smau series

synopsis — Your ex boyfriend kuni is in a band called 5wirl and they're pretty well known considering him and his bandmates are still in college but you still hated his guts on how he ended things with you back then in highschool the day before graduation. So whats the best course of action in this situation? make a hate account of him of course. 

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In the dimly lit bar, the air hung heavy with the mingling scents of alcohol and cigarette smoke. The low murmur of conversations ebbed and flowed like a distant tide, punctuated by the clinking of glasses and the occasional burst of laughter. 

Amidst the crowd, a lone figure slumped on a barstool, his shoulders hunched and his gaze vacant. Scaramouche, drinking away his problems with his tousled hair and bloodshot eyes, nursed his whiskey with a grim determination. Each sip burned like fire as it traveled down his throat, yet he welcomed the sensation, craving its numbing embrace. 

"Stupid stupid stupid..." He slammed his shot glass, scaramouche was never a heavy drinker even though he was surprised at how much alcohol he had consumed. He began to replay memories in his mind mostly memories with y/n, he didn't know if it was the alcohol making him think these but he felt himself losing it in this self-pity party he made for himself 

As the night wore on, Scara's movements became increasingly unsteady, his speech slurred and disjointed. He waved off concerned looks from the bartender and fellow patrons with his signature scowl, insisting that he was fine, that he could handle his liquor. But the truth was evident in the glassy emptiness of his eyes, betraying a soul drowning in sorrow and regret. 

With each drink, Scaramouche sought solace in the swirling depths of alcohol, hoping to drown out the memories that haunted him, if only for a fleeting moment. "This isn't working" he muttered to himself standing up to use the bathroom before driving around to clear his thoughts, he wasn't sure himself. 

As Scaramouche made his way through the crowded bar, his mind consumed by the urgent need to find the bathroom and leave, he suddenly collided with someone, nearly spilling the drink the other person had in the process. Looking up, he froze in disbelief as he found himself face to face with the reason why he was there in the first place 

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise before a cold mask of indifference settled over their features. "Scaramouche," they said, their voice tinged with a hint of annoyance. 

"Y/n..," he replied, his voice catching in his throat. Memories of their tumultuous relationship flooded his mind, and he struggled to find the right words to say. 

Notes: what ef i leave w this cliffhanger(this is the first time they've met in 3 ish years)

Taglist ! (Open): @sakiimeo @sagegreenthinks @evsolostheuniverse @mizokowashere @mechanicalbeat1  @bananasquash @wolfe02 @msameikanevaeh @yukiipc @magica-ren @r0ttenhearts @vvyeislazzy @yuumaofc   @darthvada @the-ghost-0f-t0m0 @yoyo-yui @thenightsflower   @lazy-sanns @sukunasrealgf @danhenglovebot @sketcheeee  @featuredtofu @mine-lu @karma-gisa @amyena @onmywaytoteyvat @fujimoribaby @eliqusgenma   @buubbbbly   @reekapeeka @elernity @kunikissr @miko1ly @feverish-dove @pomeiu @kascar-chronicle @otomegame-oneshots @kiokiee @swivy123

[whalesforhands]

digest your feelings pt.10

previous masterlist next

warnings: fluff, a bit angsty

Years have gone by. Years that pass, that float, that run, that leave you behind. Years in which everyone has grown, for the better or for worse, changed and yet you remained the same. Seemingly stuck in an endless cycle, never knowing when you can break your curse.

Left behind.

Each day, each hour, each second trapped in there made your heart grow heavier and heavier, slowly burning, fizzling your last hopes out. Transparent regret wafts through the air as whirling teardrops get accustomed to the blaring sound of the growing wind.

Abandoned.

You died believing you were unremembered. A blotted out name in the minds of which you adored the most. Gone, and never to be recalled, never to be dragged out from the confines of this swirling darkness.

You can’t hate it, can’t cry out. Only continue to breathe.

It was that little boy who made you believe in— Whatever there was left of you.

So lonely, so discontent with the world around him, so quick to shut himself off before anyone gets too close. So bruised and battered from the scuffles he gets himself into despite your disapproval and disappointment.

Yet, still clawing so desperately at glimmers of hope to be saved all this time. There was a belief in chance, in the glitters of having a saviour who would take the pain away.

Perhaps that’s why your soul was so attracted to his in the first place, always so drawn towards those who needed help, so self-sacrificing in search of a kinder world.

Your naivety needs to be popped.

Kind— Soft, weak, fragile, inadequate, substandard, imperfect and overall lacking. All that you could ever see in yourself, all that you ever knew about your own.

Would you ever amount to more?

If you could change yourself, you would. Forget the true shape of your soul, reform yourself entirely. Be less dull, show less gaps in that facade of trying to be strong.

How much time will pass until you reach those inner dreams? If— If you move slower until you stop, would that be okay?

Acknowledging yourself, doubting yourself. You wanted it, wanted to be better just to be able to muster enough courage for it. You— Wanted to be there too.

You want to live.

Two flowers that bloomed in spring fell in love, balmy, ambrosial and stretching, reaching towards the sunlight together.

A lone summer bud looks towards them, from the shrouding darkness, stretches towards the light in which they bathed in, unblossomed and the smell of gunpowder.

Never reaching, never touching.

——

The spear has been long ripped out of you, Suguru’s jacket tied tight around the wound, a hand pressing down to constantly apply pressure as the other was under your legs, doing his utmost best to keep the blood flow to your heart and brain.

You need to live.

Even as your body rots, crumbles from your fading consciousness. The decomposition of your skin starting to show once more as your soul starts to fade away for real this time.

It’s his fault. Geto Suguru wants to die, to choke himself and suffer and give his everything to you.

“I don’t blame you.”

Of course you don’t. Of course you never will.

Even as the cold, unforgiving rain pelts down onto your icy skin, you will never find it in your heart to make him the antagonist, the villain.

For once, Geto Suguru realizes how stupid your mentality is.

——

Your eyes blink open at the scent of cigarette smoke and pomegranate sweetness, mixed with the mild, yet overwhelming stench of sour formaldehyde.

Familiar, yet so foreign. Your body aches as you shift about on the mortuary lifter, eyes heavy and tired, arms akin to dumbbells that were filled with sand and burdens, your joints popping as you start to sit up, your skin brushing against the slightly scratchy material of the hospital gown, feeling over the thin fabric to feel jagged, bumped up skin, your back healed and scarred over.

You live. And you only have one person to thank for that.

“Shoko…” Your eyes avert momentarily as the nostalgia floods in, the colour of her go-to brand of cigarettes having rebranded. You say it out of old, die-hard habit.

“Smoking’s bad for you.” It’s with that sentence that causes her to freeze in place, the lit cigarette in her mouth falling to the floor, hitting against tiled floor of the morgue.

(Isn’t it funny that her dead friend says that the moment that they reunite?)

She’s holding her head as she starts to laugh, minuscule tears building in the corner of her eyes as she starts to smile, to allow the exhale of joy overtake her face.

you you you you you you you

“I missed you.” A beat passes, your eyes turning upward at the sight of her. Beautiful, pretty, gorgeous Shoko.

“It’s nice to be missed—“ By you. By your precious friend. She’s older, dons a rogue of sultriness and elegance on her lips in contrast to the graceful and daintier pink of her youth.

“I love you.” It’s awkward, for you to suddenly say something like this out of the blue. Yet, it feels like it fits right as your eyes trail her from top to bottom, the clack of her heels approaching you as you laid there, bandaged galore and sore and it is just… Too much to move.

She produces a pack of cigarettes from her doctor’s coat, and another and another. The plastic packaging of the unopened boxes crinkle in her hands, newer, perhaps just bought. She holds them out in front of you, making a show of letting you see that she’s emptied her pockets.

Before she crushes them, hurling them all towards the trash. “You don’t like it when I do it, right?” Breathy, unrefined and unprepared. “I’ll stop.” Stop as long as you’re here again. As long as you keep looking at her with that sparkle of happiness, of proud innocence and tender fondness.

“So… Could you—” She takes in yet another breath. “Could you say it again?” Her eyes shift towards the fabric of your hospital gown, before they meet your shiny gaze, nearly bursting with the devotion you have in your eyes as she gets lost in the warmth, in the comfort of you.

She just wants to hear it again, to punch herself into this reality. This reality that she’s always wanted.

“I love you.” Of course you do. You always did.

“Thank you.” A pause. “I love you too.” She doesn’t part from you, shifting closer and squeezing your hand in hers as she delays herself from letting go. Does not want to let go. “We all do.”

Ieiri Shoko feels whole. In your company, from basking in utterly you.

“Welcome back.”

——

“You know,” The shifting of the fabric beneath his hand culminates in your ears in this silence, having carted you to your old bedroom that Shoko left you in to better rest. “Satoru—“ He breathes, tries to choke back the hesitance for a moment or two. “Says that I’m not a bad person. That I never will be.”

How can he even face you right now? He’s so shameless, so absurd and absolutely disgusting.

“Suguru,” Your voice is more soothing, softer than his mind had ever managed to imagine. Mellow, tolerant and so humane. “You are the kindest person I know.”

He wants to throw up.

No. He’s not. You are. You, the paragon of forgiveness and goodwill, of kaleidoscopic rays of gentle light, of the breeze that billows the dandelion seeds into the blue of spring days, of seafoam that floats, drifts even in the rage of the waves.

Of white noise that blocks out the screams of the voices.

You, whose cursed energy tastes of balsamic clouds and tainted jasmine, the taste sour, tangy on his tongue.

He would’ve recognized this taste anywhere, he would’ve known your presence blind if he hadn’t been so— Impetuous. So emotional.

(He doesn’t deserve you.)

His lip trembles, grip on your sheets so tight that his knuckles turn white, pale. You don’t want him to feel bad, don’t want to see him in this state, a bandaged hand reaches forth, before it’s so selfishly, so desperately snatched up in both of his, the size of his hands dwarfing yours, calloused palms pulling your hand forth and pressing it against his beating heart.

“I love you.” His stunning bronze-amethyst meet your own lovely eyes, his gaze full of dread and hopeless tears, full of cowering anxiety, and yet, it’s nothing but Suguru in its entirety. It’s just him.

I love you love you love you love you loveyouloveyouloveyo—

“I— I love you too…” It really is you, with how swiftly you responded, how easily it spills out as if it were instinct, a second nature. How your voice traces over every single one of those sacred words so carefully, so unforgivingly you.

Don’t you get it? No. No. You don’t get it. You don’t get it at all. Yet, you still cause a stutter in his heart, a flying, torrid wind in his stomach that refuses to settle.

Geto Suguru can see it in your eyes, even after all these years where you were ripped apart from him, from them, the hidden pain of your bubbling feelings, the way you try so hard to keep your love contained. The way your fingers tremble against his slowly increasing heart, feeling the race, the pressure that comes with.

It’s frustrating. He can’t take it.

“No— Not in that way.” He loves you so much he wants to die, he wants to strangle it out of himself and shove it down into your throat for you to finally feel, to finally understand.

You’re confused. Why? Why? Why? Whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhy—!

“Can I kiss you?” It’s quiet, unassuming and yet, absolutely livid with a fire that has been stoked for too long.

(What?)

“N-no.” You’re shaking your head and trying to pull your hand back, salty tears and hot confusion forming in your eyes as you try to avoid his gaze, avoid this before you become a homewrecker.

He feels like he’s going to break.

“W-whatever you feel for me— Satoru—!” You’re crying, starting to sob with the utter heartbreak.

You want to. But you’d hurt him, you’d hurt Satoru, you’d hurt their family—

“Satoru loves you— Loves us.” His grip unwittingly tightens, yet so gentle and soft and accommodating to you so that you won’t be hurt anymore. How can he make you see?

How can he get this point— This fact across more obvious than ever without more miscommunication?

His hand, making sure to keep your own in place, so that you won’t pull away, won’t leave. The other reaches into his pockets, as if frantically in search of something before a small, velvet box is pulled out.

W-what in the world—?

Beautiful. The ring inside is absolutely gorgeous.

There’s no way.

“It’s yours.” He’s hurriedly reaching into his shirt, pulling out his necklace to show off the matching third. “This— Satoru has the same one too.”

Their marital exchange rings. Your eyes tremble as you stare at it, at him, at the shine of the metal within the soft velvet.

“So, please.” He moves forth, his forehead pressed against your own as he whispers into the cold night, “Don’t misunderstand, don’t cry, don’t be sad anymore.” The ring is plucked off from its confines, and slipped onto your finger as you stare in shocked silence.

You— Don’t know what to feel. Love? It’s what you always feel for them.

He says it again as you begin to cry harder. “I-I’m sorry— I just— Adore you.”

I’m sorry for loving you. For making you this sad. For making you cry. I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you

“I love you.” It lacks all restraint, raw in its entirety as the words tumble towards you once again. You cry, your tears soaking into the bandaids upon your face as you feel his own start to drip onto your cheeks, mixing with your own.

——

It’s been— 24 minutes. There’s a standoff between Suguru and Shoko.

“I—home.”

“She’s— my patient— hasn’t hea—.”

“She lo—s— fine.”

“Are yo—doctor?”

“—cheating—is—“

The door is opened as they both walk in side by side. “Someone like you is lacking in shame.”

“Aha? Do I now?” Suguru has made his way past you, flashing you a sweet smile as he opens your windows wide.

Shoko crosses her arms, staring at him with a look of exasperated calm that preceded all her initial anger and worry for you.

“Try gaining a little more class—“

“Then I’ll be taking her~” He’s cutting her off as you’re practically scooped up into his arms as your helpless, confused eyes meet Shoko’s, a raised hand waving at you as she unwraps another lollipop.

“Hopeless.”

——

“Suguru.”

“Satoru.” An eye is exposed.

There’s a bit of a tense silence in the air where Gojo Satoru has halted the both of you from just above a residential area.

It’s cold.

Though, Suguru had thrown a now clean jacket over your head prior to your flight, your body being completely swallowed by the fabric.

“You look cute like that. Keep it on.”

(He knows you’ll complain about him being cold.)

The wing flaps of Suguru’s bird curse continues, as you before it disappears. Alas, you don’t expect to fall.

You’re floating midair.

(Geto is using cursed energy to lift you both up.)

“Suguruuuuuuu!!! Where’s my kiss?!” Complaints are thrown out the window when you’re suddenly pressed forward and leaning onto the— You now noticed— Much taller man, much harder bodies squishing you as Suguru’s lips meet Satoru’s own, long arms wrapping around the both of you.

“S-stop— Licking me.” Geto is smiling, red blush dusted across his cheeks as he tries to pull back from the wet embrace. Laughing as he doesn’t even wipe at the remnants of spit.

His half-blindfolded gaze holds your own.

(You don’t think he’s ever taken his attention off of you for even a second.)

“Now your turn~” His lips are puckering up and comically smushed up as they lean down towards your own.

Oh my god. Is this— Needed? Oh god you don’t feel ready— Suguru isn’t helping. Why are his eyes all upturned with that stupidly cute smirk on his face! Ahh, they’re both so dumb— Don’t put you in this position!!! Wife?! Your heart is going so fast, you can’t breathe— Is it just the air pressure up here? Gosh, just close your eyes and pucker up—

You feel a flick on your forehead instead. An arm going around your waist to pull you in closer to him as Geto lets go from behind you.

“Joking~” Your forehead throbs. “Not gonna do anything if you’re uncomfortable.” He laughs again as he gives a noncommittal shrug, letting you float there momentarily by using his cursed energy to hold you up, before your hands, fingers are intertwined with his own.

(He needs to touch you more.)

Even after all these years, it’s still him. Silly, adorable Satoru. He was never good with words, always letting his actions speak for themselves as he flies a circle around you, checking on you from head to toe before plopping his head onto your shoulder from behind.

“Papa~, I left the kids at home. Twins are sleeping!”

“Oh, did you sign Megumi’s parental slip? Tsumiki needs a bento tomorrow too. Did you get dinner ready?” Suguru’s pulled out his phone, floating midair and checking through some texts.

“Uhh—“ There’s a breath in as he takes in the smell of you over the various responsibilities his husband had just listed to him. “Does the microwave count?”

“Satoru…” Suguru’s sighing before he leans down toward you, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. As if to ease stress. “Gonna go solve a crisis. See you both for dinner okay?” He leaves with a small bonk to Satoru’s arm, hand— Touching. Infinity is off. It always has been.

“Idiot.”

“I heard that!”

“You were supposed to.” A playful stick out of his tongue and he’s gone, touch lingering on your skin. “Dinner will be ready soon!”

You’re gently pulled, your bare feet now atop Gojo’s shoes as he settles himself behind you.

You’re alone with Gojo Satoru.

“Hey.” It’s soft, as if it was a cool summer breeze flowing through your ear. “How much do you trust me?”

And it feels like the memories are coming back all over again.

“…I can’t jump off if you’re holding me so tight.”

He’s laughing, hands daringly trailing over your body as you just stare down at the sheer height you’re at.

“Did you…” You feel a pounding at your chest. “Know what Suguru said?” His hold on you is intimate, close.

His heart is beating so fast.

“I’ve tried telling you before, you know?” He has. Even tried to show you from the beginning, to the festival. You just never got it, no matter what.

“I’m—“ Sorry? Does that even answer for all those years you’ve left him? You don’t know what to say.

Silence ensues.

“You have—“ He sighs again as his nose is pressed into your neck. “A scary hold on me.” A shackle that holds him down, that makes him want to worship the very ground you walk on, that makes him want to keep you inside forever—

“Just…” You feel your insecurities creep upon you as you interrupt his train of thought. “Why me?”

He’s huffing as he walks you through a cloud, your back against his chest as his hands hold yours from his position behind you. “Liking you doesn’t require reasons.” He pauses to turn you around to face him, leaning down. “But you’re too slow to realize that, huh?”

That line slightly irritates you, yet you laugh all the same.

(He stays silent to let that melody play longer.)

“You know, I don’t regret most things.” He has no reason to. After all, “I’m the great Gojo Satoru.”

You keep quiet, feeling his finger circling your ring. Your fingers pushing into the plushness of his cheeks as you fight to overcome his sheer adorableness.

“My hwusband ish the hwottest man awlive, and he’s married to me—“ He tilts his head down slightly when he feels you kiss his jaw, closing his eyes when he feels the light pecks just under his blindfold. “The prettiest, most perfect, me.”

“I’m supposed to have no regrets.” There’s a tug, and his blindfold is gone, leaving just his pretty eyes curtained by his pretty hair.

“But you,” Hands come up to cup your face, an entire galaxy that rivalled the skies reflected him in your eyes. “Were my only one.”

(“I should’ve noticed sooner.”)

“And I don’t like having stains on my perfect record.”

The promises and visions made, the days that passed so cruelly yet so softly without you by his, by their side, the despairs and utter feeble perturbation that haunted his mind. Another chain that he never regretted tying himself to, all fades away with the rains and dark clouds that never seemed to vanish.

Like tranquility after a storm, the pale light of the sun enfolds them all. The wounds that still ache, the thirst that was never quenched. It doesn’t matter anymore.

You are back.

——

“I’m back!!!” Satoru’s kicking the balcony door open as he holds you in a bridal carry, your hands over your face in embarrassment as you try to hide away from their— Your children.

“Nuh uh. You aren’t walking with those out and about.” His cheek is rubbing vigorously against yours as he cuddles you. “Let’s put all those pretty clothes I bought you to use when we get home, okay?”

This is not okay. You’re not okay as your feet gently touch the wooden floor of the family home. There’s excited squealing, a rustle of fabric as Suguru carries a pile of clothing in his hands as the girls help him.

There’s also a sudden presence tugging at you.

He stares up at you, nose scrunched up and eyes narrowed as he grips your hand, squeezing, nails lightly sinking into your flesh. As if to confirm your presence.

“Hello,” You almost miss the way your tongue lolls his name out. “Megumi.”

You kneel down, getting onto his level as you stare into his eyes. “It’s been a while.”

previous masterlist next

Notes:

“I want Mama to sleep in my room tonight!” Nanako.

“Ehhh? No! Daddy wants her more!”

“Daddy is right, Mama has injuries and should stay with the grownups.”

“Tsumiki is a grown up!” Mimiko.

“I’m old enough to take care of her!” The said girl is immediately raising her hand up as her feet kick about excitedly on her chair.

“Papa and I are stronger and can protect her from monsters!”

“Mama shouldn’t sleep with boys! Didn’t Papa teach us to not touch the other kids at all?!”

“Darlings, that’s different—“

You feel a tug at your clothes. Megumi.

“Sleep in mine.”

nvy’s aftertalk:

originally i wanted stsg to be shirtless at one point + sexy scene in this cause i was thirsty but then i got shy

i can’t believe dyf is coming to an end soon hahah also i lied abt finishing epilogue and this at the same time i would go insane. pt.11 with more family fluff or should i focus on epilogue guys

[alexa-fika]

Idk which pirate crew to choose but what about a fem ghost child who lives on an island or ship. Their pretty lonely since they died alone and all they want is a family. So when a pirate crew shows up she kinda tries to keep them from leaving. Kinda angsty? Maybe the crew ends up adopting her??

Hunger and Solitude (Brook x f!child!ghost!reader x Sanji)

A/N y’all I cooked right here, I ‘ll be homest when I read this I was like UM BROOK 100% but then I was like thinking of the plot and the backround of Reader for the story and I was like I need Sanji here. This story is more on the heavy side and unlike my other ones this is not the squealing like a little kid type as it includes themes of death and starvation but just as wholesome in my opinion

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha which stands for reader in japanese

Dividers by @/saradika

Brook found himself walking around the cabin his crew had ended up in, attempting to take shelter from a snowstorm that raged on the island they were visiting.

The abandoned cabin, if one could call it that, didn’t seem abandoned at all; it seemed weird to the skeleton. Usually, he would be against abandoned places, lest they find a ghost or other undead beings, but this place seemed taken care of; everything was in order, no dust, no cobwebs, no roof caving in on itself; it seemed like a typical house, but yet not a soul could be found.

“Brook, you noticed it too, right?” Sanji says, walking up to him, the usual cigarettes resting between his lips

“Yes, this place… it’s abandoned, and there isn’t anyone here or around, yet this place is immaculate,” he replies, glancing around the room

“There has to be someone here,” The chef concludes

Dokucha looked down at the two men, studying them from the rafters up above

Brook paused at the sound of a childish giggle, slowly looking up and spotting a small girl looking back at him

“…”

“…”

“A GHOST!” He cries, pulling out his sword from the cane

“You’re a skeleton!” Sanji hollers back at him, annoyed

“Stop!”

Brook stills for a second, taking over the ghost that was, at this point, in front of them

“You’re a child…”

“I’m sorry! Please don’t hurt me!”

“Hey, Hey, it’s okay; we have no intentions of hurting you,” Sanji said, kneeling down to her level and trying to ease her down

Brook sheaths his sword once again. He looked around once again, still perplexed at this place

“You live here, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” she said, sniffling

“Where are your Parents?” he asked, despite deep down already knowing the answer

“They all died, rain never came, and food ran out.“ she cried

“I stayed, but I saw momma starve, I saw papa starve, and no one came back.”

Brook and Sanji, both still at that, memories both flooding their minds at the story of the small girl

“So you stayed here, alone, by yourself, all by yourself,” Brook muttered

“I am deeply sorry, little Madam; I know the feeling very well.”

After the words had been spoken a sudden chill filled the air, snow beginning to blast around them as white began to cover the room they stood in

Sanji looks up at the spectable and back down at the girl, quick to understand the connection between the two

“Shut up! You don’t, you don’t know what it feels like!” She screams, eyebrows furrowed, eyes filled with both fury and pain

“Yes, I do,” The skeleton spoke

“LIAR” she growled as hail began to fall around them

“I cannot relate to starving to death, but I can relate to having to watch everyone around you die while you remain.”

“You’re lying!.” She hisses

“I am not lying to you, Madam,” He says calmly

“My whole crew died in front of me.”

The raging storm around them begins to lessen around them at the comment, furious winds going down to a cold breeze brushing against them as the girl stared wide eyes at the swordsman

“T-they died?” she said, stepping closer to the skeleton

“They did.”

She walks towards him

“But you stayed? Alone?”

“I did.”

With that the wind around them stilled, the snow that pelted them before now falling melancholically from the ceiling

“It hurts…” she cries

“I know, little Madam,” he says, opening his arms, signaling her to come closer

She runs to him, sobbing in his arms

“I miss Mama; I miss Papa!”

Brook wraps his embrace around the young girl, slowly rocking her back and forth

“Don’t cry; it will be okay. “

She turned her head to look at the blond man

“Did you stay behind, too?” She asked between her sobs and hacks

“Not quite,” Sanji replies

“I… I know what it is to starve, however,” He said, putting his hand over her head

“I got washed to an uninhabitable land with…my father. Our resources eventually ran out. I had thought father had more food and went after him only to find out he had given his rations to me, and he had taken to eat his own leg to survive.”

“It hurt so much, the pangs, I couldn’t stop them, I couldn’t get up,” she weeped

“I know…im sorry, i’m sorry” he whispered

“Little Madam, this snowstorm, it’s your doing, isn’t it?” Brook replied, sitting down with Sanji and Dokucha next to him; once the girl had calmed down

“It is…I’m sorry I kept Mister Brook and Mister Sanji and their friends here, but… it’s been so long since I saw someone, and I got excited, but you were about to leave, and I … I didn’t want to be alone again.”

“Don’t apologize. Your intentions were not to hurt us, and I’m grateful because we got to meet you,” Sanji replies to the little girl

“How long have you been living here by yourself?” Brook asked curious

She shrugs

“A long time”

Sanji and Brook glanced at each other; at that moment, the two men had silently agreed to something; they were not leaving this place without the girl

“Dokucha, why don’t you come with us?” asked Sanji

“Come with you?”

Sanji nods. “Yes, you know a ship? Where we all live. A ship with a nice kitchen, and plenty of others that will always look out for you”

“You want me?”

“Of course!” Brook says, reaching out his hand toward her

“Come on, you're not staying.”

“You will love our Captain, you know? He won’t leave without you either.”

“Are you sure?”

The two men nodded with a smile on their face

“Of course, of course! Now, come on! Yohohoho,” Brook said, standing up, grabbing the girl, throwing her in the air, and laughing further when the girl let out an airy string of elated giggles at the action

“We won’t let you be alone anymore.”

“And I will never let you be hungry ever again, you hear?”

“Thank you, Misters, Thank you!” she cried, hugging the skeleton’s neck, more tears cascading down her eyes at the turn of events

“I have never been happier than I am now,” she confesses

“Yohohoho, I know that feeling as well, little Madam!”

“Don’t cry, and don’t worry, if you ever feel alone, if you ever feel lonely, you can always come and talk to us, alright?” He says to her

“The crew and us will always make some time for you, so you won’t be alone again.”

Who the hell is cutting onions? Im not crying you are 😭

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

[rubydracogirl]

WOW SO

I did not expect that drawing of Stanley to get notes. Thank you all so much for that, I keep rolling around in the likes and reblogs like a husky in fresh fallen snow.

Since I wrote a one-shot with Reader kissing Ford, I thought about it, and Stan needs a hug.

Why don't we give him one? ^_^

Stanley PinesXReader

Rated T for depictions of tobacco and adult conversations.

"Just A Hug"

It had been such a long day at work. You couldn’t wait to lock up and leave, though you dreaded walking in the snow. The bitter cold was waiting for you with wide arms, and as you clocked out and zipped up your coat, you regretted taking this shift.

Fuck it, I need the money….

To your surprise, when you stepped out, you noticed someone out in the parking lot. A lone car, with someone leaning against it, smoking. You squinted, recognizing the silhouette. It was that weird science guy from the woods. Stan something. He’d just come in for a pack of cigarettes, a loaf of bread and a carton of eggs an hour before the store closed. But that was over an hour ago…

What was he still doing here?

You weren’t normally nosy, but it was late, and you had some… neighborly concerns. You didn't know him well, he'd always been a bit of a hermit. He had been coming into town more often this past month, so you'd seen him a lot more. You liked him alright, he seemed harmless.

You shivered in your jacket.

Why was he sitting out here in the freezing cold?

Screw it.

“Hey there, buddy, y’doing alright?”

He seemed slightly startled by your voice as you began to walk over and he waved at you sheepishly.

“Fine, fine, just, uh, enjoyin’ the uh, night life.” His gravelly voice called back to you.

“Yeah, real wild hangout this is. You should see it in the summer, we get all sorts around here.” You chuckled. “Can I bum one off ya?”

He looked at you with surprise before reaching back into his pocket.

“Didn’t take ya for a smoker, toots.”

“On occasion. Much appreciated.” You replied, reaching into your own pocket for a lighter.

You lit up before taking a deep drag, ignoring the cold and focusing on the calming rush of nicotine. As you blew out a thin wisp of smoke into the air, you looked at him from the corner of your eye.

“So, you wanna tell me why you’re hanging out so late at night?”

He gave a hoarse chuckle.

“Didn’t think anyone would care. It's not illegal, right?”

“No. Not illegal… but weird.” You replied. The pale smoke drifted into the air, and you leaned against his car with him. 

“C’mon, buddy. You can talk to me.”

He looked at you with narrowed eyes.

“Sweetheart, I don’t even know your name. M'not gonna bare my soul to a stranger, even if you are cute.”

“I wear a name tag, y’know. You probably would’ve seen it if you weren’t so busy looking at my tits all the time.” you replied boldly.

He snorted sheepishly at that. “Sorry. I uh, thought I was being discreet about it.”

“You’re not exactly the type of person I would label 'discreet'.” You chuckled. “You’re also not the first guy to ogle…. It’s (y/n), by the way. You’re Stan, right?”

“Yeah…Stanford Pines.”

You hummed thoughtfully.

“There, we’re acquainted now, for better or worse.”

He chuckled.

“You’re awfully pushy, Miss (y/n). I don't know if I like that.”

“Hey now, I'm not pushy, just worried… no one just hangs out in an empty parking lot during awful weather, not even in this backwoods town.”

He grunted.

“I don’t really want to talk about it, no offense, toots.”

You nodded.

“That’s fair… can you at least promise that you’re not up to mischief here, Mr. Mysterious guy?”

He looked down at you, and you saw the barest hint of a smirk appear on his rugged face.

“Not the kind of mischief that you need to worry about, honey.”

You squinted, trying to read his emotions. It was impossible, though you could clearly see lines of care and some deep worry behind his tired, dark eyes. In that moment, with the cold night pressing in and his presence the only warmth around for miles, you felt your heart clench into a single desire. He didn't want to talk to you, that was fine… but you weren't going to leave him like this.

“Ok, Stan. I won’t bug you anymore… can I ask for a favor though?”

“Depends on the favor, but shoot."

“Can I hug you?”

He actually choked, coughing out smoke and turning from you as he tried to regain control.

You winced in sympathy, but as he turned back to you, his already reddened cheeks were even redder.

“You're serious? A hug?” He repeated incredulously, his voice raw from the coughing. 

You nodded, adding sternly, “Don’t get any bright ideas, wise guy. It’s only a hug.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t- that wasn’t…. Sure. Yeah. I could hug you.”

It was obvious you had caught him off guard, but as you put out your cigarette and opened your arms, you didn't expect how strong he was. He pulled you in against his body effortlessly. The heat from his body stole your breath and suddenly, you didn't feel so cold.

His bulky frame shielded you from the winter air, his arms enveloping you perfectly. Your heart skipped as you felt him sigh.

You squeezed him tightly, resting your head against his shoulder. He smelled like cigarettes, cheap cologne and some strange, musky smell, like burnt metal. It was a strangely comforting scent, and you thought you felt him turn his head towards you. 

"You're so small…" he murmured softly, his breath puffing against your hair.

"Naw, you're just big." You shot back, but didn't lean away or let go. In truth, you didn't want this moment to end...

Inevitably, he let go after a moment, awkwardly patting your back, his cheeks still rosy, though it could have been from the cold. You gave him a smile. 

"Hey, if nothing else works out for you, you can at least know that you're a good hugger, Stan Pines."

"... Thanks." He replied quietly. You suspected he wasn't just thanking you for the compliment.

It was getting close to midnight, and you decided you had been nosy long enough. You patted his shoulder, giving him a soft grin.

"I suppose I'll leave you to it. See ya around, Stanford."

He piped up, looking somewhat embarrassed.

"Wait, (y/n)… look, do you, uh, need a ride?"

You considered it.

"Hmm. You're not gonna kidnap me, right?"

"No! No... Not tonight, no." He chuckled.

You giggled.

"Not tonight huh? Too bad. But, well, sure, I could go for a ride. Thank you."

He grinned back, a spark of sincerity lighting up his dark eyes.

"Don't mention it. Let's get out of this crummy weather."

[sorencd]

APPLE CIDER

pairing: charlie dalton x f!reader

summary: he’s brash, annoying, distracts you from your studies, and plays the saxophone too loudly. you don’t like him at all. right?

word count: 0.6k

a/n: really tempted to make an unofficial part 2 to this one hdhasfuf

the room was frigid as the cold wind entered your room through the window, sending a chill down your body. you were staring up at the ceiling, thinking about the past events of this week. you got up from where you were on your bed to close the windowpane, deciding that you couldn't bear the chilly temperatures anymore, but sat down on the edge, you spotted your jumper that was hanging on the door.

'hi (y/n).' a voice from above you spoke, it was charlie. he had that cheeky smile again. 

'what do you want, dalton?' you replied, annoyance evident in your tone. clearly stating that you didn't want him there and bothering you. you were studying outside of the school you attended, the neighbouring academy to welton, emma porter academy. you shouldn't have expected peace and quiet when you chose a bench outside of school as your place to study.

'you're really good at organising.' he said as he pointed at your notes. 

you looked up at him with a bizarre expression, where did that compliment come from? to hide your confusion, you instead feigned irritation. 'seriously, what do you want charlie? i'm busy right now.'

'you looked lonely and i didn't see your friend amelia around here anywhere. so i figured i'd give a poor soul like you company.'

despite your best efforts to try and make him leave you alone, he was persistent. no matter how many times you told him to go away, he'd quickly change the topic and say something about you.

'you know what? i'll be the one to leave. please don't follow me.' you pleaded as you started walking away.

he didn't say anything the first few minutes you got up to leave, you were tempted to look back to see if he had any sort of reaction, but before you could, he beat you to it and spoke up.

'i like your jumper!'

you quickly shook your head as you cleared your thoughts of charlie. lately, he's been plaguing your mind and you have no idea why. it's giving you a hard time to focus and you're afraid your grades and studies would be affected if this continues.

you resumed what you were planning on doing and closed the window shut. you caught a glimpse of yourself in the reflection, your hair softly glowing from the light the moon illuminated.

'could you, i don't know, smoke somewhere else?’ you complained as you coughed while waving your hand in the air to try and get some smoke out of your face. charlie really went out of his way to sit down next to you on your favourite spot, the bench, to light a cigarette. 

‘i think i’m fine where i am.’ he snickered and raised his cigarette up towards your head and though you tried moving away, charlie still managed to put cigar shavings on top of your head. to your dismay.

you stood up from the bench and quickly cleaned your head, you hoped the smell wouldn't rub off on you to save you the trouble of explaining to your parents why you smell like cigarettes.

'would you quit that?' you angrily grumbled as you scowled at him. he only laughed again in return.

'sorry sorry, wouldn't want to ruin your pretty hair.' 

and there it was again. that feeling in the pit of your belly that bubbled up every time he'd compliment you. he's just messing around with you, isn't he? after all, you both hate each other.

for the second time tonight, you snapped yourself out of your daydreaming and made your way back to bed where you plopped down face first and let out an exasperated sigh. 

charlie has been fogging your mind all week and it was starting to get annoying. that annoying sly grin of his, his annoying handsome face, annoying compliments, annoying soft hair, annoying charlie. you disliked him. hated, even. you hated him a lot. you don't even like him that much.

but maybe it's time to admit that you do.

© sorencd . 2023 ─ do not copy, repost, translate or claim any of my works as your own.

[z0mibite]

ITS HERE AT LAST

ODDITIES AND CURIOSITIES

3K+ words, no beta read, vague intimacy, it's not smut but nik be stroking readers face, reader is scared and hostage + sees people die, mention of cigarettes and alcohol, general party atmosphere, ect.

The brisk cold of the night caressed your bare skin, sending shivers down your spine as goosebumps emerged. As you closed the car door, the cold wind enveloped you, carrying with it the sharp scent of alcohol, mingling with heavy fragrances and the hint of sweat that tainted the crisp forest air surrounding the abandoned building.

You passed by a group of smokers at the entrance, their exhaled puffs left a trail of smoke, burning in your lungs as you inhaled.

Stepping into the scene, your eyes were bombarded by an array of flashing lights, each oversaturated color burning into your iris. Simultaneously, the pounding electronic music assaulted your ears. The sound waves moving throughout your body seemed to bump in sync with your pulse and the vibrant hues surrounding you.

The cluster of bodies shoved you involuntarily across the room. A sharp gasp escaped as you unexpectedly tripped over an unseen obstacle—a stray leg. Falling brought on the threat of being trampled, the realization made your muscles tense, bracing for the collision with the concrete floor. However, when the anticipated impact failed to materialize, a sense of weightlessness replaced the expectation of pain.

Cold, calloused hands grabbed hold of your waist, yanking you from suspension, meeting the chest connected to the same hands. Startled, your neck snapped to look at him—the captivating blue ring encircling his pupils held your gaze. Enchanted, you hadn't noticed him guiding you to the rhythm, the pulsating vibrations from the music coursing through the floor, compelling your feet to instinctively mirror his every move.

Your bodies seamlessly melded, his hands guiding your hips into alignment. His expert moves contrasted with your inexperienced dancing, struggling to match his pace. Glancing over your shoulder, you were captivated by his beauty, your steps lagging behind as he effortlessly led the dance.

A fleeting glance, and he swiftly spun you to face him. Your heart momentarily faltered as did you, but the man before you seamlessly continued his suave motion. His eyes traveled your body, and you witnessed a subtle lick of his lips. Lustful eyes closed, chest rising with a deep inhale through his nose.

Abruptly, his demeanor shifted into a grimace; brows furrowing, teeth clenched, and a brief, intense glare directed at you. Hissing as he turned his head to the side, the muscles in his neck popping out with the tension, he cast one final glance before releasing you and seamlessly navigating through the crowd. Confusion etched across your face as you grappled to comprehend what had unsettled him. His name remained a mystery, leaving you with unanswered questions.

Glancing over the bustling crowd, you sighed, looking back to where he had disappeared. Navigating through the intoxicated crowd proved challenging as you aimed for the rows of coolers stocked with drinks. Eventually, the struggle led you to a seat, allowing your weary legs a moment of respite amid the chaos.

As you settled into your seat, the rhythm of the music mingles with the sound of laughter and conversation. Neon lights danced across the dimly lit room, casting shifting shadows that played upon faces. The scent of sweat and alcohol hung heavy in the air, intermingling with the faint smell of cigarettes and perfume.

Taking a sip from your drink, the cool liquid provided relief from the heat of the crowded room. From your vantage point, you observed the mix of characters: groups of friends engaged in conversation, couples swaying to the music, and lone souls lost in their own thoughts. Amidst it all, you couldn't shake the memory of the stranger who had briefly whisked you away, leaving behind a lingering sense of curiosity.

As you took a sip from your drink, a grimace formed on your face as an unfamiliar scent invaded your nostrils, prompting you to sniff the air inquisitively. The odor grew stronger, unsettling, as you watched others around you begin to cough, the frequency increasing with each passing moment. Concerned, you glanced upward, only to be met with a disquieting sight—a haze of smoke billowing through the room, obscuring the once vibrant atmosphere.

You shot up from your seat, panic rising within you as you scanned the room for an exit. Frantically, you sought a path to safety, but your hopes were dashed as you observed mobs of bodies pressing against every available door, none yielding to their desperate attempts.

Panic surged through you like a tidal wave, your mind racing as you grappled with the horrifying realization that there must be a fire raging somewhere within the building. Amidst the chaos, a nagging concern clawed at your thoughts—is your stranger safe?

The smoke seared your lungs, triggering a fit of coughing that wracked your body, mirroring the distress of those around you. With wide eyes, you scanned the room, desperate for any sign of a possible escape route. Your heart dropped as you witnessed the sight of bodies succumbing to the toxic fumes, dropping one by one.

The thickening smoke obscured your vision, casting a veil over the once familiar surroundings. Sounds of coughing and gasping echoed through the room, along with the frantic shuffling of feet as people attempted to navigate the suffocating fog. With each labored breath, the smoke seared your lungs, leaving you gasping for air. Exhaustion weighed heavily upon you, your limbs growing heavy and sluggish as you fought to remain upright. Faintness crept in at the edges of your vision, threatening to pull you into unconsciousness.

As the smoke enveloped you, a numbness began to spread throughout your body as the smoke spread through the room.

Spinning in a disoriented frenzy, your eyes darted from one seemingly lifeless form to another. As your vision began to blur and the world tilted on its axis, the overwhelming urge to surrender to unconsciousness grew.

But then, amidst the haze, you saw him—a familiar silhouette adorned in distinct attire. Despite the gas mask obscuring his features, a glimmer of recognition sparked within you. Confusion swirled in your mind as questions tumbled forth, was he going to save you?

With glossed-over eyes, you stared at him,. Before you could comprehend his intentions, his hands closed around your elbows, and like a switch being flicked, consciousness slipped away.

As you slowly came to, the first sense to return was your hearing. Groans and weak sniffling, reminiscent of weak sobs filled the air, accompanied by the steady whirring of a nearby machine. Sounds of distress, occasional whispers of "no," "please," and "god" drifted into your awareness, each word laden with desperation and fear. Your eyes flickered open as you struggled to piece together the fragments of your surroundings.

Blinking a few times to clear the haze from your vision, you observed the scene before you. Pale figures moved about the room with an eerie nonchalance, their actions methodical as they dragged limp bodies from the piles nearby. Despite the weak whimpers and futile pleas from the victims, their cries falling on deaf ears.

Your gaze shifted, drawn to another figure—a man bound and helpless near the machine. Following the trail of a clear tube, your eyes widened in shock as you witnessed a dark liquid being drawn from his thighs, disappearing into the tool with a deafening hum. A sickening realization washed over you, chilling you to the bone as you struggled to comprehend the horrifying purpose of the machine.

With a helpless eye, you watched as the man's feeble attempts to break free from his restraints faltered, his struggles growing weaker with each passing moment. The effects of the blood loss became painfully evident as his complexion paled before your eyes, the life draining from him with alarming speed. Despite his efforts to resist, his fight gradually waned until he lay still, his heart unable to fight any longer.

You whimpered as you attempted to sit up, a weak attempt to escape.

“Shhh… sh sh sh sh…”

Your blood ran cold as you heard a voice directly next to you, an equally cold hand trailing up the curve of your back leaving shivers in its wake.

“Don't fight little one… just calm…”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you muster the courage to turn and face your captor. As your eyes meet his, they widen in disbelief. In the dim illumination of the flickering firelight that traveled from a few bins, his sharp features become more distinct, you realize that it's the same stranger from earlier.

Your breath caught in your throat as you gazed up at him with tearful eyes, still lying on your front, your head heavy with exhaustion, too overwhelmed to lift. He recognized the emotion in your eyes all too well, betrayal.

He regarded you with a mixture of pity and amusement, noting how easily emotions played across your face. It was almost pathetic to him.. how little humans could control their expressions. A cautious hand reached to caress your cheek.

“That look… I love that look…” He whispered.

His thumb gently wiped a fallen tear, lifting the digit to his mouth to suck on the salty drop.

You observed him inhale once more, the close proximity allowing you to discern the dilation of his pupils, enough to leave only a thin ring of blue.

As he leaned closer, his breath mingling with yours, a sense of dread enveloped you. Despite the overwhelming fear coursing through your veins, you couldn't deny the unsettling allure he exuded. With a voice barely above a whisper, he spoke again, his words sending a chill down your spine.

"You're odd," he murmured, his tone laced with both intrigue and apprehension. "I can't quite place it, but I can smell it on you, inside you.."

Your mind raced, trying to comprehend the situation you found yourself in. Trapped, vulnerable, and at the mercy of this stranger who seemed to oscillate between tenderness and malice.

A surge of adrenaline pulsed through you as you summoned the courage to speak, your voice trembling but determined.

"Who are you?" you managed to choke out, your words barely audible above the hum of the machine and the distant sounds of distress. His lips curled into a faint smirk, his gaze never leaving yours.

"Nikolai," he replied simply, his fingers tracing patterns along your back. “Your turn..”

In the moment, you weighed your options, ultimately deciding that disclosing your name was the best course of action.

“Mm, fitting..”

With startling swiftness, he leaned over you, his movements almost inhuman in their speed. In the blink of an eye, he was beside you, effortlessly maneuvering you onto your back by your shoulder.

Slowly, he bent at the hip, his hands coming to rest by the sides of your head as he leaned closer to you. His wide, unblinking eyes held an unnerving intensity, predatory in gaze. With his mouth agape, he exhaled shakily, his cold breath brushed against your face.

In your peripheral vision, you noticed his fingers twitching slightly as he inhaled deeply through his nose, his eyes momentarily rolling back into his head.

He rose swiftly, executing a sharp spin to turn away from you, his long braid swinging with the force of his erratic movement.

He exchanged words with one of the other individuals who remained awake, the one responsible for hooking people up to the machines. Though too far away to discern the conversation, his fleeting glance in your direction filled you with dread. The realization dawned on you: you were likely next in line to be drained.

As he turned away, the sound of his boots tapping against the floor echoed in the tense silence of the room. The firelight didn't reach the dark hallway he walked down, allowing him to become nothing but a silhouette.

With each passing second, the feeling of dread intensified, a heavy weight pressing down on your chest as you grappled with the terrifying reality of your predicament. The air felt thick with apprehension, every nerve in your body on edge as you braced yourself for what was to come.

Your heart skipped a beat as the sound of the machine abruptly ceased, plunging the room into an eerie silence. Your gaze flickered to the drained man, his pallor shockingly stark against the dimly lit surroundings. Every trace of life had been drained from him, leaving behind a ghostly shell, devoid of vitality.

Two other figures materialized from the shadows, their movements eerily synchronized as they approached the drained man's limp form. With a chilling efficiency, they grasped his lifeless body, his head lolling limply with their movements, and began to drag him away to join the pile of other pale, lost souls, disappearing from view as quickly as they had appeared.

“Your heart races, little rabbit…”

As your breaths labored, a hitch caught in your chest. With a sudden jerk of your head, you turned to see Nikolai. He prowled around the improvised stretcher you were anchored to, his eyes holding the same predatory gaze.

“What makes you so fearful? Hm?” His voice, pitched a few tones higher, resonated with a mocking lilt as he hummed his inquiry, his head cocked curiously to the side.

You struggled to maintain eye contact with him, grappling with the fear that consumed you and the feeble attempts to appear stronger than you were.

“Ah, don't be frightened. Fear looks so unbecoming on such a delicate little thing.”

Your quivering lip betrays your attempt at keeping your composure, succumbing to fear instead of the instinct to intimidate him back. Tears well up in your eyes, blurring your vision, and you feel fear grip you as your chest constricts itself.

“Please, just let me leave. I won't tell anyone what I saw, I promise.”

Your voice quivers in tandem with your shaking lips, each word escaping breathlessly, uneven. The trembling of your breath mirrors the tremors coursing through your body, your chest heaving with each shallow inhalation.

Nikolai's lips lifted ever so subtly, a blend of adoration and amusement flickering in his gaze. Elegantly, he lifted his hand to tenderly caress your cheek, his knuckles delicately brushing against your tear-stained skin, trailing down to your quivering lips. With a gentle tug, his thumb revealed the veins of your gums, his gaze intensifying as a hint of interest mingled with desire.

"Promises are such fragile things, easily broken by the whisper of temptation. And oh, how tempting you are…”

Like a switch flipped, his seemingly gentle demeanor shifted in an instant. With terrifying swiftness, he withdrew himself from your space, a palpable aura of seriousness replacing the calm.

“Do you truly believe you're the first to beg for mercy?”

His gaze, once teasing and tender, now hardened into a glare tinged with a hint of anger, his eyes widened like those of a wild animal, devoid of human subtlety, lacking the typical furrowed brow but radiating a primal intensity.

“You're not, and you won't be the last.” He spoke plainly, monotone.

Despite no longer being restrained, you remained lying on your back, immobilized by a primal instinct to freeze. With neither fight nor flight yielding results, your body instinctively opted for stillness, a desperate attempt to evade the looming threat.

A flicker of confusion danced across Nikolai's face as he observed your lack of response, his gaze probing for any hint of reaction from you. He stalked forward, tilting his head as his eyes met yours. This time, you held his stare unwaveringly, your body had forsaken you to sit pretty and wait for death. A toothy smirk graced his lips, his fangs peeking out the sides.

"The prey resigns itself to its fate. How boring… but curious.." He trails off, a hint of interest in his tone.

He lifted his nimble fingers, scratching his nail down your jawline just enough to leave your skin irritated and red, but not enough to make you wince. As he reached your chin, he brought his thumb to swipe across your lip that shook violently with your chattering jaw.

Just as he seemed poised to speak again, another voice interjected.

"Enough! We don't have time for this, Nikolai. One of them got away, they'll be alerting authorities soon, we have to leave. Drain her and let's move on.”

Nikolai turned, a look of annoyance grimacing his features.

“No no, I think I want to play with this one a bit more… we'll take her with us.” His voice was sultry as it was intimidating.

“Apologies little one, you'll have to sleep a bit longer…”

That was the last thing you heard before an oxygen mask was placed over your face, forcing you to breathe in the intoxicating chemicals. You fought against it, but soon your eyes forced themselves closed, allowing you to feel your limp body being lifted off the metal.

You shivered as the temperature within you plummeted, contrasting with the warmth of the firelight. Despite the heated atmosphere, you felt your nerves begin to feel like a grainy tv screen at the oncoming numbness, which was alleviated only by the pain in your neck—your lifeforce surrendered to the vampire. Each lap of his tongue against the wound, a forbidden ecstasy, punctuated by guttural gulps as he drank your essence. His demeanor bordered on feral, growling and twitching like a starved beast.

With each pulse of your blood, moments lingered in the stillness. His consumption is punctuated by ragged breaths, despite the unneed to breathe. He withdrew from your artery after taking notice of your body's cue, the shallow of your breath, the speeding cadence of your heart, and the paling, chilled skin rivaled only by his own.

As he withdrew, a haunting stillness settled over the chamber. In the flickering firelight, shadows danced upon his pronounced features, casting light upon his face, now blushed with your blood. The rosy tint was not purely a visual change; he felt the pulsating warmth coursing through him. Every heartbeat, every surge of life that originated from your veins, warmed his cold body. The heat of your blood became a living caress.

Silence lingered, pregnant with the weight of unspoken desires. His feral demeanor softened, replaced by a contemplative gaze that hinted at centuries of existence. As you lay there, the vampire's voice, resonant and velvety, pierced the quiet.

“You taste different from the others…” Nikolai's words, almost a question rather than a statement, a revelation. From the beginning, he had noticed an oddity with you, a nuance that set you apart. It was this oddity that guided his fangs directly to your neck, unable to wait for the others to drain you dry.

Nikolai confessed to the uniqueness he had sensed in you. A scent, an intoxicating aroma, had wafted from underneath your skin. As his fangs pierced your neck, it wasn't merely a physical need that drove him, but an insatiable craving for the flavor that danced within your essence.

He stared you down, his gaze flickering around your face and body as he inhaled your scent deeply once more. His pupils made his eyes appear almost completely black, only a small ring of blue visible to you with the close proximity. He guided his hand to the side of your neck, his thumb pushing your jawline up as he admired the crimson dripping from the punctures.

Heavy eyelids try to succumb to the combined effects of the gas and the loss of blood, coaxing your body to rest and recover. Each blink became a strenuous effort, it was exhausting just to reopen your eyes. Yet, with each strained effort to lift the veil of fatigue, your gaze persisted, meeting his, full of vulnerability and resilience.

Without clear reason, you wanted to show your strength, to prove your worthiness to him. Worthy of what, you weren't sure. Whether fueled by delirium or the ambiguity of your state, the only certainty that anchored you was the persistent thread of curiosity that connected your gaze to his.

In the windows where a soul should be, a faint trace lingers, revealing a shadow of the one who once was. A vampire, forbidden the warmth of a soul yet touched by a distant, delicate presence. As your eyes meet, you contemplate if the faint trace of a soul in his eyes is merely a reflection of your own.

[bcbdrums]

Landing

A Soul Eater fanfic. Read on: AO3 | FFn

Second in a series of 31 prompt-based one-shots. Prompts from this list.

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

A/N: Man I had SO many ideas for this short and I could have dragged it on and on and on... I forced myself to stop. But know...this could have really gone on. I really like this one. 2. Airport

The night was inky but for the blue and green lights laid out in a vast grid across acres of pavement, their purpose unknown to the lone observer in the nearby parking lot. But Spirit's focus was elsewhere anyway. The only red lights to be seen were flashing under the wings of the plane that distantly taxied down the runway, and he hugged himself against the cold as he watched the shape of the steel bird carrying the woman he'd chosen out of his life again.

The roar of the jet engines was deafening when it finally lifted away like magic, but Spirit didn't cover his ears nor move from his spot near the parking lot fence until he could no longer see the shape of the wings, and the red lights were mere pinpricks rising higher and higher into the night sky, soon to vanish among the stars.

Finally, when he couldn't tell one pair of flashing, distant beacons from another, he bowed his head as he rubbed his arms through the sleeves of his blazer and started trudging his way back across the huge expanse of asphalt toward some place where he could get a ride. Maybe there was still time for a drink at the airport before he had to catch the next train, and heaven knew he needed one.

Against his will, he was already replaying the entire incident in his head, from the long journey in the taxi where she wouldn't even look at him let alone speak to him, to his reluctant and humiliating signing of one paper after another in the tiny office of a county courthouse.

He really needed a drink.

"You didn't bring a coat."

Spirit jumped at the sound, his heart in his throat even though recognition was instant and his mind was relaxing before his body had fully processed the shock.

"Stein! What are you doing here?"

He had lurched back at the too-close sound out of the darkness but was hugging his arms tightly again almost instantly, suddenly realizing just how cold it was as he was forced out of his depressed reminiscence and back to the present.

"I followed you," Stein said simply.

Spirit noted the man's typical attire of lab coat, patchwork turtleneck, and time-faded black jeans, and how his hands sat comfortably in his coat pockets and a cigarette rested lazily between his lips. He had no winter coat in sight either, and Spirit did some quick calculations.

"But I left Death City before sundown," he protested. Stein said nothing, and Spirit's mind ran over the rest of the implications of his former meister's words. "You've been spying on me for over four hours!?"

"She made that take unnecessarily long."

Spirit shivered, felt his teeth chatter as he stared into Stein's knowing eyes, looked at the slight tightening at the corners of his old partner's mouth that only he would notice, indicative of his good humor.

Spirit finally sputtered something between a laugh and a scoff, and then hurried close to the younger man's side. Stein turned and set an arm around Spirit's shoulders as they started back across the parking lot and toward the shuttle station, and the weapon hesitated for barely a moment before leaning into the meister's side. It was only a mild relief—Stein was cold too—but it was better than nothing.

"Please tell me you drove."

"Ah, no, I wasn't thinking."

Spirit grimaced. The train would be warmer, but not nearly warm enough on the frosty Nevada winter's night. He didn't like the idea of buying overpriced outerwear in one of the airport shops, but he liked the idea of freezing to death even less. Even the air was starting to feel like ice, and it was becoming difficult to breathe.

"We'd better hurry before the shops close," he said, attempting to lengthen his stride despite the painful chill settling into his bones.

Stein matched his pace but didn't reply, and Spirit wondered at the man's silence after having devoted the entire evening to secretly following him and his ex-wife around.

"What is it?"

Stein didn't look at him, but Spirit noticed a change in the tension at the corners of his mouth.

"Nothing. What was it she wanted, anyway?"

A shiver ran through Spirit and he pressed in closer, matching Stein's step so their legs brushed as they walked. He hesitated in replying, but finally sighed and let it go, his throat tightening before he uttered a word.

"There was an entire folder of papers I'd forgotten to sign at the divorce proceeding. I was...distracted at the time."

For the second time that evening his mind was wrenched back to that dreadful day, the way his wife—ex-wife—had sat with such detachment and poise as he was falling apart, watching the judge nod agreement to everything her lawyer had put forth about his being an unfit parent.

"Her lawyer is on vacation for the holidays and the signing had to be witnessed by the judge who adjudicated the case for some reason. And he was in Las Vegas this weekend. Would have been nice to know before this morning..."

He recalled not for the first time that day the way Maka had sat as near to her mother as the court would allow those months ago, grinning all the while and occasionally sending dark looks in his direction. She had been visibly elated when the judge declared him stripped of all parental rights, despite the fact that Maka lived and attended school where he worked. And then he remembered the way Maka had hugged her mother after the decision... Remembered watching the brief exchange of words between the two from his lonely seat across the room, his wife caressing their daughter's face as Maka looked back into her mother's eyes with love... And then they had left together, his wife the one to bring Maka back to Death City that day before leaving again.

Despite being on the same train back, Spirit hadn't seen Maka again that day or for several weeks after. She had moved in with her weapon partner before he and his wife had officially separated, and without the court hearings forcing them together he was reduced to hanging around outside her classroom and taking his chances for fleeting, one-sided conversation. But those were fewer and farther between, and never appreciated.

Maka loved her mother. And she made it clear each time he tried to see her that there was no room left for him in her heart. It was in Spirit's nature to hold on to hope, but the hard truth was that since the divorce...he had been well and truly alone.

Except for the bottle, of course.

"If you ask me," Stein said, interrupting the downward spiral of Spirit's thoughts, "they should really change some of those custody laws."

Spirit hadn't realized tears were welling in his eyes from the memories until hearing Stein's voiced support, and he swallowed against the lump in his throat and attempted to blink the hot moisture away. Was it fogging up out there, or was that just his imagination?

"Thanks," he finally said, his voice hoarse. He hoped Stein knew he meant for more than the encouraging words.

Far more.

He felt Stein shiver, and after a moment, Spirit released himself from the tight hold he still had on one bicep to slide an arm around Stein's waist. They were only about twenty yards from the shuttle station, and distant headlights suggested they wouldn't have too long a wait once there.

"I'll buy you a drink. One drink," Stein said. Anyone else listening would have only heard the meister's usual monotone, but Spirit heard the command.

Unseen to Stein, the weapon smiled softly. There would be no drowning his memories and sorrows in too much alcohol this time. But perhaps, now that he wasn't alone... He wouldn't need to.

[spaghettitigers]

‘cause life keeps cruising (and i’m still frozen here)

fic 2 of a self-imposed challenge to just write and not think too much on it, following themes. this one’s is breakup. tags: rated T, 1.8k

~~~

Arthur is kissing someone and it's all wrong.

There's plush lips under his own, broad shoulders being palmed by his hands and the vague sense of familiarity in his stance, everything too much and nothing like Eames all in one.

But Eames' aftershave is the smell of water on soil, clean air and the rush of a rapid spraying against the root wet rocks. 

Arthur jerks back from the stranger, and he catches a look of lust and then surprise at the separation. He doesn't know this man's name, only that he had looked distressingly large from the back, holding his chest the same way he saw in someone else. 

It's a popular bar, known enough that locals pour into the place, couple after couple, group after group, and just enough lonely people to keep the good vibes going. 

Arthur can't believe he's here, but he see his friend shooting her shot with another stranger, just her type; sees the woman's short curls and elegant smile, and the way she places a delicate, manicured hand on Ariadne's neck like it's the most casual thing in the world, but he knows Ariadne is silently screaming inside. Ariadne smiles, shy but not gentle, and leans up to drop a chaste kiss on the stranger. Young love.

He shoots a quick text: "going out for a smoke, be back in an hour" and they'll both know it's a lie. 

(He thinks about this: stealing a drag of Eames' cigarette from his lips, the smoke curling around their ears and above them. He tilts his head up and blows out. He thinks about the curl of Eames' fingers against the nape of his neck instead of around the curve of a cigarette, and suddenly he can't think anymore because Eames is pulling Arthur into himself, tongue and teeth and love all bottled up in a kiss. His brain dings with a Mission: Get Eames Away From a Cigarette as a success but the thought is gone as quick as it was there, and he's falling into Eames' arms wrapped around his waist).

Arthur stops at the counter on his way out, fingers held up for a brief moment and he leaves with a beer bottle, uncapped and ready to ruin him.

~~~

There's a melancholy that sits in the chests of men left behind; it makes a home, wrapping it's blanket around itself, warm in the hearth of the heart that beats and beats and beats its heat.

Arthur pushes the bar doors on the way out, heavy on its swing backward and he exhales, feeling the ringing in his ears vibrate into the quiet world outside. He's semi-sure about where he's going, but there's a corner of his soul that knows the direction his feet push him to, starting down the street downtown.

(He thinks about this: the hanging decorations swinging above them, this teeming alleway bursting with people, colours and lights. Street vendors on both sides are selling their wares yet giving away as much, the atmosphere setting like the sun. There are few places that celebrate Eid with unbidden joy, and Cairo continues to amaze. They're tucked away in a little aunty's house, who dotes on Eames almost more than Arthur does. In a rare moment alone, there's a smudge of Kusheri at the corner of his lips. Arthur rests a thumb under Eames' jaw, caught in the orbit of grey in his eyes, and he can't pull away. Mosque goers will tell you about the peace of prayer in a mosque, quiet and serene and reflective of everything in their hearts. Arthur has never been a religious man, but he thinks he can understand this- the slant of Eames' neck, the flutter of his eyelashes. The timbre of his laugh, glint in his eyes.

Instead, he smears the Kusheri further on Eames' face, and they're both sheepish at the receiving end of Sayida aunty's scolding about wasting food).

Faced with the slightly biting cold, Arthur wraps the jacket tighter around himself, blowing warm air into his hands. Stars twinkle above him in a clear sky. He pulls his phone out again, and replies to the few tents he's been ignoring. None of them are who he wants to see in his notifications.

It's not that Arthur is always like this. For the most part, his life is still pretty stellar, for a point man in the dream sharing world. He's up for a job in Istanbul in a month, then another in Pretoria in three months. He likes living in Paris, even if it's become an inexplicable hub for the inception team. Of course, everyone has multiple places across the globe (barring Cobb and Yusuf, the former who prefers upstate NY and the latter who hates Europe's "bloody sad weather").

Anyways, the point is that it's odd. It's also terrible because it means that Arthur knows exactly where to walk because he knows Eames' apartment, can find the turns of the street like it's nothing. Paris is theirs but they're no longer together.

(He thinks about this: It's hot in Papua New Guinea, no matter when you visit. This is a lesson learnt the hard way when Arthur regrets packing a modest wardrobe.  Eames, as is his nature, mocks him un-end and joyously joins Arthur on the impromptu shopping trip. He punches him in the shoulder when Eames wiggles his eyebrows while holding a colorful sarong, the colors clashing so brightly in Arthur's eyes. Arthur can't help but laugh, and he feels the little waves of love breaking on the sandy shores).

Finally, finally, he's here. The beer bottle is only half empty, so Arthur plops ungracefully at the steps of the building across the street from Eames' place, a direct view into the front of the building,

Disintegration:  to break into small pieces, typically as a result of impact or decay. The scene is set with the silhouettes of two people dancing in the living room window of the first floor, complete with the curtains Arthur recognizes (he remembers Eames asking for his opinion); the beer is definitely not enough. It's been 6 months, and somehow this is...worse.

He didn't want to think of the possibility, but the inside voice of his drunk brain helpfully chirps Oh but he's Eames. It only took 3 months to get you wrapped around his finger. 

He doesn't want to be here, and certainly not without more alcohol. Arthur drains the rest of the bottle, dropping it in the recycle bin as he makes his way back up street. The harsh lighting of 7/11 hurts his eyes as it comes into view, but it's worth it to see the doors still ringing open & close at 2am. Regretted decisions are the best. 

The cashier's busy on his phone. Arthur spots the fridge on the far side and goes to yank the door open. A six pack of the shittiest mixed drink will do, and if Ariadne doesn't end up going home with her hot new date, at least he'll have a drinking partner. It's as he's thinking this that everything stops - he is making eye contact with the man at the end of the aisle.

Eames looks unfairly good at 2am. There's bags under his eyes, but the coat on his shoulders does everything in accentuating his figure. Arthur has missed this; the color of salmon on Eames' skin, the fit of his pants down the length of his leg. Eames is impeccable in the early hours of the morning, apparently. 

He knows they're walking to each other, slow and easy steps. He knows he's blurted out a "Hi" and nothing more. Closer, it is impossible to look anywhere but Eames' face, sharp lines and stubble and those gorgeous lips, ones he's kissed and bitten. Arthur wants.

The drinks in his hand weigh on him. "Hi," Arthur says again, a little stupidly.

"Hello love."

And that, that's the thing. He's suddenly so painfully aware of himself, the hairs on his skin standing at attention and eyebrows furrowing with frustration, back straight because he's Arthur, and he's not about to let Eames walk all over him like that. 

"No," he replies angrily, "you don't get to do that. No calling me love, no calling me darling, like-like we're friends from stupid summer camp-"

"Arthur-"

"No, absolutely not. Do you know how long it took me to get here? I'm happy you found someone, I really am but I'm also a person who's allowed their complex feelings and I'm definitely not happy you could move on so fast." Arthur straightens his shoulders again, and makes eye contact with Eames again, whose gaze shatters the glass under Arthur's rib cage.

"May I?" Eames pries Arthur's fingers from the tab, and places the pack on the floor next to him, He drops shoulders briefly and steps forward. Their faces are near enough that Arthur is going cross-eyed. He thinks- no definitely glances- at Eames' lips, & can't tamp down the desire to lean forward, just to feel them again. He wants, in the crackle of energy between his fingers, in the way Eames's eyes stay on his: he is a prisoner, shackled by the flecks of black in the storm. This close, Arthur can smell the faint scent of smoke, and worries that Eames has started again.

"Tell me again," Eames whispers ,"who am I supposed to be with at the moment? "

Arthur frowns. "I saw you, in your window. You were dancing." Like that's supposed to explain everything.

"My window?" Eames parrots.

"Yeah, you- you were-" Arthur inhales," you were dancing with a lovely woman. You were laughing."

"But I live on the first floor. "

Arthur's scowling now. " Exactly, what's this-?"

"Wait, no, you Americans must call it the second floor. Arthur, I moved. That's not my apartment. I'm on the second floor with a balcony now."

"Wait, so-" Arthur's brain is a mile a minute, "that wasn't you"

"No."

"So... you're not seeing anyone?"

"No." As he's said that, Eames puts a hand on Arthur's shoulder, another on his waist. 

"So...there's no crazy ex about to burst through the doors to kill me if I kiss you?"

Arthur wants and wants. And wants. It is all he can do to swallow dryly and keep his voice level; to stand this close & keep his hand cradling Eames' face, who leans into the touch like a content man.

"I think -" another whisper, "that if you don't kiss me, I'll go crazy myself."

He feels it, vibrations reverberating from his lips through to his toes to capture Eames' lips, and it is glory. It is the sun behind his eyes, the night of his lungs expanding like the universe, where he feels everything the way he used to, intensity cranked up to 100 and then some. He's pulling at Eames' hair and his tongue swipes up to lick at his palate and - Wow. Kissing Eames is coming home.

They separate, after hours (minutes, at best). Eames squeezes his waist , and smiles a toothy grin. "Let's get out of here, darling."

Arthur grasps his hand. "I'll lead the way."

[thegoodthebadthealternative]

The warm wind of a promising summer tumbled across and around the overpass; the monument of civil engineering scythed to the horizon over vacant lots and broken brick buildings, the souls of unsmoked cigarettes still lingering within- waiting for the ones who put up those unlit neon signs in the windows to return. The highway formed a skeletal wall between the Second and Third wards of Houston, though those weren't their names- not anymore. In the shadow cast by the asphalt serpent, a lone aura stalked, taking shelter from the bladed wings of the dusk's light. 

Future Lieutenant Detective Terezi McCoy had a hard enough time seeing as it was, without the death throes of a May day glaring in her vision. But soon the cold sapphire night would fall, and the sightless would no longer be an exception. Her cane tapped and scrabbled across the uneven sidewalk, the rough surface and spidering fractures like a scab that begged to be picked.

Why was she out here? Putting her neck on the line for a city that couldn't give a damn about her? Well, that was a long story.

The chief was a good man- too much of a good man. Too honest, too hopeful. Karkat's skin was rock, but his heart bled like a damn stuck pig. He was too busy guarding the line between the light and the shadows, he couldn't see what was lurking- what was building within them. Change was in the air, and it reeked of iron and sand.

That's where she came in. Where she should come in. And tonight was going to prove it.

The wyrm was gonna turn.

Interested in what Terezi's doing? Like the prose? Check out our fic!

[libidomechanica]

With light by

A kimo sequence

               1

That grew beside a human door! With light by light: lonely thing, that soon he rose and warmth of loue.

               2

But Flight. Of air, not pure as it, yet pure, doth well delight. My slumber was gone for you, my dear.

               3

Because the blue sky bends over and trust that I shall those tears; take me to the centre. But there.

               4

Pushing toward daybreak. A dainty dish to set before me, when the trance was o’er, the mastiff bitch?

               5

I do not the disaligned. Though yet, heaven seems half-way to lift some weight of low replies.

               6

That hole where leather men are vain? And slowly rolled her with me, we’re wed to one eternity.

               7

I have been faithful to you, Cynara! Harry, Tommy, Wilfred, Edward, Bert—and light and song.

               8

Stay with your old baggage. Plunge them in up to thee, and thee to mee: no, no, no, my Deare, let bee.

               9

Says, I wanted to get married. With blushing shame, by rage suppress’d, let tears, and weep each other?

               10

To sit a star upon the floor below. And, Do I dare? No, no, my Deare, let bee.

               11

Cannot flie away. Nor equal, nor unequal: each fulfils defect in each, and lang’rous waist!

               12

—Thy words, relieve my verse in time, your fortune— range the wilds of Time, perhaps not a woman, off!

               13

Make in misery to live. And lie, ever singing, each to each. Makes you tyrants in the end.

               14

Free from fear, they cross’d the diver’s brain, for a lady’s chamber floor. Yet so did I let my friend.

               15

Now do I know this: I fell in love wilt hear; if from thee. Oh Angel of hopeless, lasting flames!

               16

After than Phoebus, if he seav’n times bright! For forbidden fires. To spit out all the dance was mine.

               17

Bright eyes, that all her hard and cold white as stone. Involved in stillness, plighted vows fleeting as air!

               18

Assist the field is universe into a lute. Is it indeed so? Be thine! The air is still!

               19

I told my love had seen mine execution. Curse on all best exceed proportions of the year.

               20

And gave a twist to me. Which stands check’d; Religion of my mind, thy words, thou art as tyrannies.

               21

I’ll wrap it round. Till the same chance!—Harry, Tommy, Wilfred, Edward, Bert— and light a cigarette.

               22

And all thou know’st to my dear doting heart. Do love you here is none like a dog in a kennel.

               23

But tis twilight dawned; and out of sight. Owe this dearest, that long-wish’d-for end, full to thee, and doubt.

               24

The lovely lady’s shroud. I heard the mermaid now, for I will say: How his hair is growin’ yet.

               25

Give me the shade of the sky.—An’ Charlie, he’s my darling, the young Chevalier. And is he gone?

               26

Ah! The Castle wa’, she saw three bonie boys playing with a dying fall beneath the huge oak tree?

               27

Our bed is lovely maid and sees a damsel bright a dame! Hand, turning her grave. By more than dead!

               28

And like a noon-dew, wanderings I have sinn’d! I want to glide a sunbeam by the Maiden’s side!

               29

Where I fly, pursue, rise in the brain is not so. Spake words Sir Leoline. I dreamed I was a child!

               30

By thee to mount, and complaint of present the bonie laddie in. Bare, lest aught unholy loiter here?

               31

And love to so base a vice, for no man knows. Much, Cynara! No matter by the might be well!

               32

He danced with rough. Amid that scenes appear where’er I turn me not to belie his soul with clay.

               33

Run afresh, as if she ’d said, Gee woe! I lift my heavy eyelids my anguish hangs like shame.

               34

To the fault; I view my crime, but kind? To labour was thine! And do accept my madness, and weak.

               35

He drank: her fair large bright and slender oats foraged in the lady’s chamber door; and the sun.

               36

A cool suspense from pain; thy life destroy. The wanton thru the flower amang them very ill.

               37

Of lonely way, close by the castle bell. As if she be small, jewel-like flower unfamiliar.

               38

The way to the blood runs out across the sounds and strange man should presume? That is so vex’d with thee.

               39

To know her but I? Or foxlike in difference. And thus she stooped, methought I heard a hollow sound.

               40

A blue moon for an instant leper. Lord of her beauty lies, when faithful to the land of spike?

               41

And none of us thought thus watred was my strange death of Jesus set me free. In this fashion.

               42

But could have this; she shall: then my hopes and men, who looked askance and end with his society?

               43

And those tender-ship, cried Sally Brown! Sleeps, and love all night upon mine ears, both I and the brow!

               44

Within the bathroom floor mocks your haire with me! So, the year, that yours and mine had bound us lie?

               45

Van Diemen’s land if certain when two dewdrops on the best, even to life in the airport. Ah!

               46

Seized, inside my honest faith in this man no more, but other me? A shining steps of thy child!

               47

Lingered in the moon is behind, and saw thee woman in contractions are five minutes apart.

               48

Comes first—light in what they might half undo it. Of loue new-coin’d to her from the pitiless wave?

              ��49

And his Anguish grew—how bear it? But, as luckless, I have sworn to bury all things undo me.

               50

That looks up at the lady by her word were it even for me. Loathe the side-lie of a truth.

               51

For once, a tremor breakfast the sky ascends, wi’ sangs o’ joy. And damning their necks, where away?

               52

And flush themselves forsake and for very feare would return to life, to life in thee has killed it.

               53

And the rain on my soul. And I was a rose that green mama who first forced me to Mortal part.

               54

Scott, Rogers, Campbell, Moore, and Crabbe will trim. To sail with old Benbow; and here, ev’n then, shall be poor.

               55

The Sexes rose to work upon is much too much, some say, she seems that sweet said, that thou to dread?

               56

And hark, again! From happy pieties, thy lute, thy pipe, thy incense sweet face of you and me.

               57

Why should poor beauty from my love, my life. But, as luckless, I have known the rain lasts anywhere.

               58

In the bud will wear white despair? Wilt thou go with me, we’re wed to one eternity in days?

               59

Not Ida; ’ clasp it once all-fragrant-curtain’d love begins again. Then downward like those who love.

               60

What peace. And her voice is strength beguiled, this golden foot of May is on the bloated hiss of death.

               61

For I have slept on the brands were stopt with griefe. Still as death, can break her word were it bitterness.

               62

The earth forever! It must be because it is a precious seal of my life, myself—and you.

               63

Is changed in a convent’s solitary Child. When I break through all the grist of its insides grow.

               64

Now folds the maid and thine for me. Than Heaven, my Lover, were my Chamber Heaven’s sun staineth.

               65

Err I dare to look at the basin and wriggling on thy fame! My own heart’s heart, where, while I weep!

               66

Till love you, dear, I’ll love you all; let Virtue be your soules; come wait on hir whom winged Psyche true!

               67

I waste my heart and mine should hindred be. Gloom, and nothing can be old, for as you with my death.

               68

For once and show me what I meant, at all. Proud of many, lives upon his gaine is our lost will.

               69

I call, I call: who do ye call? And the rent, and long to stay with your old baggage. I would get.

               70

—Not the power to burn and be all that bloody torments you doe give, creatures, couched her homage.

               71

Geraldine shakes thee hence. Yet, if Hope has flown away in a night, or in nothing but a feint.

               72

That heart to this fool lord, dare I bid her abide by her side; nor strange. That is misunderstood.

               73

You soarer, you of the sea. ’ Echoing straits between the hills? Again she sees my lady’s maid.

               74

Nor shall die tonight, I wrote this morning. Black Melancholy reigns; what means the warm leaden sheet.

               75

And the gravelly sand take a body to it, even blue-eyed fly to the field. Sir Leoline?

               76

From op’ning on the crowing cock, how drowsily it crew. Shall ever was in our own child-bed.

               77

Within and whom I am confined. Water so cleanly I myself upon the floor below.

               78

Cries to catch her but I? Of all that we see or seem is but as a tomb which happened balloon.

               79

Out for love, to give the wreath’d trellis of a working brain, love alone. With a moonlight and song.

               80

I lift my heaven knows, in joys and woe so many times. To the banks, close of each too, too late.

               81

My soul would only be the best, even to life in losing mine? Naked, a double behind.

               82

Like cliffs which have no fear! Beneath the weight of soil, nothing new is in us, and were at peace.

               83

I knew a beautiful olives. We men and drivers in a bar-room around its wings and neck.

               84

—Come live with me—or fall from its boundless mere, with true sight! This day my journey should I presume?

               85

Into many a summer’s front doth sing and saying plainly of not turning from yonder bay?

               86

Oft did I rove by bonnie Doon, how can you bloom so fresh and faithful to its crisis? Have guessed?

               87

I fell, and fro, while I weep! And turning away, wants to be made, cobbling at the lasting flames!

               88

Such gentle still dictates, and those faire skin, beamy eyes, for the quarters, and looking to the Pole.

               89

Pitiless wave? Flickering gyres, but he’d once about to have gone to the sun delights me.

               90

And may appear so when this rebellious heart, and that will show itself to stone. Nay, fairer yet!

               91

To swell a progress, start up, the same chance! As old as a dog, as quiet as a skeleton.

               92

Move still doth breeding flow’rs. They will sing to me. That even its grossest flatterers dare not brave.

               93

That looks up at the happy again. A clover, a Fisherman mends a glimmers on to me.

               94

To them through my fingers am I at all satisfied. Her deadly pangs be drown’d, while I slept.

               95

Rain on thee; yet eyes this curious friend. The winged’ steed, I wish we never looks both small and dull.

               96

And make my old excuse, ’ proving his caresses by the cold. With open eyes ah woe is me!

               97

To deem, as a most logical conclusion, that ’s underneath the weight. It even for me?

               98

Nay, by my own eyes inspiring hole. My heart is dust at the pin; and here, ev’n then, shall meet!

               99

Unto the straitest best of all to Love than is or ever dear! Angels of the precious jewel.

               100

Ida came behind. That brought to. But to- morrow, the field. While prostrate here increase! To the field.

               101

I cried for madder music and forms of men! His gentle daughter is safe and fro, while I weep!

[sylvieserene]

A Solemn Day [A Teen Titans One-Shot Fic]

Silence.

The first thing which greeted him every morning was silence itself.

He appreciated it's presence every day at the early hours he woke up yet…

Today it felt heavy, unbearable and lonely-

March 28th.

A day which changed the trajectory of his life forever. 

Made him into what he was today. 

Gentle yet pale light of dawn entered into the room through the window as Robin swung his leg over the side of his bed listlessly. He tapped the alarm button out of habit and made his way to the washroom.

He felt no energy or even slight optimism; there was a heavy sensation in his heart, a feeling he was too accustomed to over the years. 

The very essence of air he breathed in felt heavy yet still; almost as if the universe acknowledged the weight of this day.

He knew today was going to be hard. He knew today would reopen the pain of some wounds which never truly disappeared and probably never will but…he didn't expect it to be so-....hard and lonely. 

It was the first time he was dealing with the Death Anniversary of his parents outside Wayne House. 

It had been a year since he left Gotham already.

He moved through the motions of his daily routine, facing the basin he splashed his face with the cold water which almost felt like baptism, cleansing his maelstrom of emotions even if for a few seconds.

Wiping off the water from his features, he took deliberate steps back to his room as if trying to maintain some semblance of balance over the day which had it's own plans for him.

Walking through the hallway, he faced the clean glass panel which let in the beauty of the natural light blossom throughout the space. 

Subconsciously, Robin touched the glass as the sun slowly ascended into the heavens emitting a sweet yellow glow aloft the cotton candy like white clouds which were slowly being scattered all across the sky.

He could tell the day was going to be long, gloomy and cloudy as he noticed the clouds slowly consume up the sun fully out of sight.

As he entered his room and donned upon the uniform, his fingers ran over the Robin insignia decorated over his chest.

"Is there a reason for this costume to be so….colourful?" 

Mary Grayson sat gracefully in front of Richard adjusting her posture to match his height. "Because when I see you up there Richard" 

She smiles as she affectionately puts her hand on the 'R' insignia on his dress. "-you make me think of a little Robin!" Her eyes twinkle in motherly amusement.

A soft smile brushes his face followed by him squeezing his eyes tightly as he inhales sharply, turning himself away from the mirror.

He opened one of the drawers of his nightstand, pulling out a small old picture encased in a wooden frame. He rubs his thumbs across the photo which had a couple smiling brightly at the camera with their hands on the son's shoulder who smiled naively. Robin's eyes soften.

"Ugh a Robin? Like the bird? You know kids my age get beat up for nicknames like that" 

John Grayson puts a hand over his shoulder as he teases, "How about we call you our flying squirrel? Better?" 

Dick smirks "You know Dad? I'm not the only one who looks like a loser" 

"A loser?!" His dad tries his best to look hurt only to give up the effort within seconds, succumbing to laughter "Ahhh I'll teach you!" He gives a bear hug to his wife and son who giggled.

Strolling down the hallway, as Robin made his way to the gym, he yet again looked through the transparent glass panel. The sky was grayish now and fully cloudy. It looked dull and almost lifeless, soul less mirroring his current being. 

"Looks like the circus is in town!" A man with a burning cigarette at his fingertips said confidently, his face was shrouded in shadows due to poor lighting.

"What do you want, Zucco?" Mr. Haley narrowed his eyes.

"Oh I'd like to think I'm here to help you, Mr. Haley…" He took a few steps forward, his face now revealed. He had mostly grey hair, a crooked face with a smirk on his lips.

"...for a small fee." He said with a smug face as he gestured his hand to the side, revealing a guy with rugged appearance accompanied by a well built muscle physique and a shaved head; the man cracked his knuckles instantly.

"My brothers and I shall provide your circus with…protection. You don't pay us-" Two other men wearing suits walked up from behind Haley, making the old man stiffen up in alert.

"You deal with strong men. Protection money and no accidents happen" The man sneered maliciously.

"Well I'm not gonna pay you a single cent, Zucco. Get out" The old man scowled.

"You are making a big mistake, Haley" The man hissed in a low voice.

Dick looked at the scene, hiding behind the large red curtain of the circus, a feeling of apprehension and fear blossoming in his chest. These men…they didn't seem like good people. 

"Oh? Looks like we might have a new guest here" The strange man named 'Zucco' pointed towards the little boy, slowly walking towards him.

Richard's eyes went wide as he froze in shock for a second. He quickly made haste and ran away to where his parents were.

Robin punches the punching bag with all his strength for the umpteenth time. He silently pants as he sees the damage he has done to the poor equipment which had bits of sand rolling down from the cracks on it's surface.

He stays silent as he slowly breathes in and out; regulating his breath to ease the maelstrom of emotions threatening to overcome him.

He stood there in complete silence for a few more minutes till he moved towards the bench where he took a sip out of his water bottle and wiped sweat off him with the towel he decided to keep around his neck, holding both of it's end by his hands.

He wasn't sure how much time has passed but the training session didn't really do him much favors. His gaze distant and downcast, a silent sigh escapes his lips.

It's truly been a whole year outside Gotham. Yet so many crazy adventures, finding great friends…building a team…bonding with them…them becoming his second family…the build of trust…encounter with Slade…being nearly killed by his hallucinogen- the list goes on and on.

 Life breezed by yet just like every year he felt a pang of longing for his parents, their absence haunting his very soul.

Every step he took since the beginning of the day felt mechanical, a series of motions which he can do with his eyes closed. He couldn't escape the memories nor the dam of emotions which threatened to break at any moment. Everything seemed to remind him of them-

The automated door of the common room opened with a swish as Robin descended the three stepped stairs, greeted by the sight of a certain sorceress resting by the counter of the kitchen with what seemed like a cup of tea emitting slight steam along with a book and a familiar Cyborg who was very absorbed preparing something. 

"Mornin' Rob" The man greeted with a smile. 

"Morning" He greets back in a tone slightly subdued and energy-less as he trots into the kitchen area, taking out his favorite cup of choice and the coffee powder.

Raven raises her eyes off the book she was reading to look at the Titan's leader concernedly. She could feel negative emotions originate from his being…She could feel the waves of hurt and pain washing over his soul. Something she'd felt when she saw through his- 

Her eyes widen as the gears in her head turn.

Could it be…? 

Noticing the tone of his usually energetic friend, Cyborg asked softly, "Hey, everything all right man?" 

"Yeah, everything's fine" Robin glanced back with a small smile as he poured his beverage in a cup.

Cyborg didn't look very convinced but chose not to say anything on the matter, he didn't fail to notice how slow or deliberate his steps are or how his shoulders are slightly slumped. He looks at Raven as if asking for an answer who matches his gaze with an concerned yet unreadable expression.

"Robin, if there's something-" The sorceress hovered over to him.

The Boy Wonder took a few steps back. "I'm fine, really- There's nothing to worry about" 

Before the conversation could continue any further, the door opened up to reveal an enthusiastic Tamaranean flying towards her allies.

"A Glorious Morning to you all, my friends!" She greeted in her usual cheerful way.

"Hey there, Star" Cyborg smiled.

"Morning" Raven monotoned.

Meanwhile, Robin settled down on a kitchen bar stool on the other side of the counter as he took a sip out of his cup; two seats away from Raven which didn't escape her observation.

Starfire sat right beside Robin in one of the empty tools.

"Good Morning, Robin!" Starfire smiled.

"Morning to you too, Star" Robin replies back with a small smile as he removes his gaze from her, taking another sip of the beverage at hand, slowly getting lost in his thoughts. 

 Her eyebrows furrowed. She couldn't help but feel something was wrong with him. He's usual energetic aura seemed almost… muted. Normally he'd at least attempt for a small talk with her but today…he seemed quieter than ever.

"Is something troubling your heart today, friend? You seem-" Starfire asks gently.

He held a brief pause. 

"No, It's nothing really- Just a little tired" He replied back with a soft smile.

"Are you sure…? You donot seem to be your usual …self this morning-" Starfire asks in concern.

The Boy Wonder's smile wavers ever so slightly as he shifts uncomfortably unable to fully maintain his facade.

"It's nothing to worry about, Star." Robin responded.

Starfire didn't look convinced at the least as she continued to look at him. Her gaze fell to her other two friends who shook their head; exchanging a knowing yet concerned glance with her. 

The kitchen area fell in silence as the atmosphere became somber, a silent worry for their friend filling up the air.

Trying to lighten up the mood, Cyborg chimed in with a grin, "Yo Robin, bet your tiredness would go away by today's special!"

He pulls out three big plates with a huge stack of waffles on each plate which were lavishly covered in maple syrup with the toppings of whipped cream, blueberries and strawberries arranged in such a way to create a smiling face. 

"Cyborg's Breakfast Explosion Special: WAFFLES!" Cyborg declared excitedly as he laid the three plates to each of his friends. Starfire's eyes lit up brightly almost instantly as Raven failed to hide the smile forming on her face. "You know you want it~" He gestures his hand over his mouth as if he were whispering while he wiggled his eyebrows.

Robin blinks at his friend's sudden enthusiasm. His lips curl up in a faint smile. "Waffles, huh?" 

"Thanks Cy" He remarks in a soft voice with a slight touch of sadness yet managing a small, appreciative smile on his face.

"The waffles are delectable!" Starfire cheered.

"I have to admit these waffles aren't bad. I might even finish the plate….if I don't die off the sugar overdose first" Raven remarked dryly as she took one more bite off the food with the syrup dripping from her fork.

Cyborg snorted. "Whatever suits you, little lady"

He dragged his own plate of waffles out and dug in.

Looking at others and gaining enough courage, Robin picks up his fork and takes a small bite but as he eats he realizes he really isn't that hungry. He took another bite of the waffle but with each bite, it started to become increasingly difficult for him to eat.

Normally, he'd wholeheartedly enjoy his friend's delicious meal but today…the lump in his throat seems to grow and the food becomes almost tasteless as he chews it slowly.

And that's when the automated door slid open again revealing a certain green changeling.

"Well guess who decided to show up early!" Cyborg smirked. 

"Hey! I'm not that late!" Beast Boy argues back.

"Never said you were" Cyborg grins as he takes another big bite.

"Touché" BB remarks as he sits right next to their leader who silently fiddled with his food using the fork.

"Yoo! You made waffles?!" Beast Boy exclaimed. "Aw man, where'd my part go?!" 

"Maybe they turned into a waffle-shaped chameleon and escaped. Better keep an eye out for the foot prints" Raven deadpanned.

Cyborg bursts out in laughter as tears come to his eyes. "Oh man that was a good one" He remarks as he wipes away the said tear. Starfire could be heard giggling in the background.

A soft, small smile makes it's way into Robin's face as he watches the banter and laughter, appreciating the camaraderie of his friends. He wanted to laugh along with them yet he felt so…distant. The smile on his face comes to a halt as his lips curl into a straight line, his mind delving into deeper thoughts.

"As for your waffles, here you go 'B" Cyborg smiles as he slides the changeling's portion to him.

Beast Boy grins as he scoops his fork down. "Thanks big guy! You are the best you know that" 

As he takes a big bite, Beast Boy notices Robin not eating, instead fiddling with the food using his fork.

"Dude you gotta try these out! They are like a party in your mouth!" BB commented, munching on his waffles as he took notice of his friend's quieter than usual demeanor as well.

Cracking a small smile, Robin stood up as he replied back "Maybe a bit later, Beast Boy." 

"I have a few paperworks left in my office that I need to take care of. Enjoy them for me, though" 

Before anyone else could say anything, Beast Boy asked out worriedly "B- But you haven't even eaten properly! You've barely touched those waffles, man!"  

The Titan's leader, already by the exit; eyes downcast in the mist of sorrow as the door swished open, paused for a moment but then he replied softly "I'm really not that hungry…if you need me though, you know where to look" 

As he leaves, the others share a look of concern amongst themselves, the worry for their leader ever increasing.

"He's really not himself today…" Cyborg sighed.

"I feel worried about his well being…" Starfire's eyes soften as she continued to look at the now empty seat. "Is there truly nothing we can do to help him from whatever might be troubling him?" 

Beast Boy looked at his friend's faces as he puts his fork down, feeling upset. His eyes suddenly widen as he looks at Raven. 

"The Bond! Rae, you and Robin, you've got that whole mind-link thing right? You should know what's wrong with him! Please tell us" He pleads earnestly.

Starfire's eyes widen at the same realization. "Yes friend Raven! Please tell us what is wrong with him…for you have the ability to shed some light in the situation! If I recall correctly, you did once mention that you vaguely saw through his memories when the bond was established-" She asks in concern, a slight tone of desperation leaking into her tone

"Raven, they're right. If something is hurting him…we should support him in whatever we can…He is a family to us." Cyborg added in,  his tone carrying a sense of anxiety.

Raven looks at all of them as she thinks about the situation deeply herself. "Even if I do…Robin deserves his own privacy, I can't just invade his thoughts without his consent. That's a breach of privacy even if it's for a good reason. Robin values his privacy and I respect that" 

The other exchange looks at each other.

"I understand where you are coming from Rae but…think about it. If he's hurting badly inside and won't open up what's wrong then isn't knowing what's wrong the first step to help him?" Cyborg silently asks.

Raven opens her mouth to say anything but Starfire speaks up as she clasps her own hands "Raven please…if there is something we can do to ease his pain, we must at least try" 

"Raven, there's gotta be something you know that we don't…" Beast Boy says hesitantly as his ears droop down in sadness. 

The sorceress pauses as she regards their words. Her mind torn between her concerns for Robin and his wish for respecting privacy.

From the shared experience they had which led to her unintentionally seeing glimpses of his whole life's memories, she did know the day carries significant emotional weight for him although the actual reason was a mystery, even to her. She did have her own theory; something she pieced together as she analyzed the fragments of memories she did end up remembering.

"I…" Raven hesitated as she looked down and clenched her fists. 

"I get your point but… I won't do anything invasive of his privacy for it is not my place to share. If he wants to talk then he would." She says with determination.

The others lower their heads and gazes down in sadness as their eyes soften.

"But I do have a sense of what he might be going through today and my own theory" Raven added in hesitantly.

This made the others turn their heads and full attention towards her.

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

Finishing his paperwork much sooner than he, himself, anticipated; Robin sat at the edge of the rooftop of the Titans Tower, his legs dangling off at the side as he gazes at the city skyline. A cool breeze rustles his hair as he continues to watch the metropolis, lost in thought.

He doesn't notice the rain beginning to fall. 

The soft raindrops pattered gently against the rooftop, creating a soothing rhythm. The city lights shimmered through the mist causing a soft, ethereal glow over everything. 

The rain provided a comforting backdrop to Robin's thoughts as if the heavens themselves were offering him a respite.

He closed his eyes, letting the cool rain drops touch his face. In this quiet moment, he allowed himself to remember his parents…their laughter, their smiles, their time together, their unwavering support…the day of their- 

Robin flinches as his downcasted eyes glistened. He still remembers the scene of his parent's death vividly. Shivers still run down his spine even today. It torments him to this day. The gasps of the audience, the horrified screams, the sickening thud which followed as the trapeze wire snapped. It was so vivid that it was as if he were reliving it all over again. The helplessness he felt…the overwhelming grief he felt….it was all there…etched into his mind.

He clenched his fists, his knuckles going white as he fought to suppress the pain that threatened to consume him.

The rooftop which provided a quiet sanctuary and solace to him, had become a battleground of emotions and memories…he couldn't escape it no matter how hard he tried…It was a part of him, something which made him into what he is today.

Tears welled up into his eyes, threatening to pour out of his mask. He couldn't break down now.

He took a deep, shuddering breath as he forced himself to look at the skyline once more, determined to push the memories back into the depths of his mind. 

He can't let them see him like this…

He trusts them with his life, he loves them like his own family and yet… his heart becomes heavy in guilt and sorrow. He can't tell them. He is their leader…he can't let them see his vulnerability to his team-mates…it wasn't…ethical…

He is supposed to be the pillar of strength to his friends, the one who holds them together through their darkest hours; a leader had to be strong, unyielding, unbreakable, a one who would shield them from harm both emotional and physical……To reveal his vulnerability felt like a betrayal of that duty.

If they saw him falter…it would shake their confidence…sowing the seeds of doubt, disrupting the unity of the team.

What good of a leader would he be if he can't even do his job right? 

More tears threatened to spill as he grips the edge. He couldn't afford to break down now. He needs to be the leader they needed him to be even if it means burying his own pain deep inside.

He took in another steadying breath, determined to regain his composure with a resolve as he pushed back his memories back to the recesses of his mind. He was the leader, he cannot afford to be weak. 

Slowly, he stood up from the perch of the roof's edge. As he was about to head back inside, he heard the faint sound of the rooftop's door creaking open. He turned to see his fellow Titans standing at it's opening, their faces etched with concern and worry.

Unbeknownst to him, his teammates had grown increasingly concerned and worried when they couldn't find him anywhere in the tower. His subdued demeanor from earlier, Raven's revelation and later her feeling immensely intense emotions originating from him didn't help at all.

Without a word, they rushed towards him, their footsteps splashing through the rain-soaked roof-top. 

Before he could even react, they enveloped into a group hug. Raven reaching him first, her empathetic gaze meeting his troubled one. She wrapped her arms around him in a tight yet comforting hug. Cyborg, Starfire and Beast Boy joining in the endeavor as they formed a protective circle around him.

The embrace was warm and comfortable. There were no words, just the soothing embrace of his friends and the pattering of rain around them. Rain poured upon them, drenching them to the bone but no one seemed to care. 

Robin felt his defenses crumble in the face of their unwavering support and love.

 In that moment, he let himself be vulnerable as he buried his face in Raven's shoulder, tears mixing with the raindrops as he finally allowed himself to grieve.

In that moment, still embraced by his friends, he felt a mixture of relief and gratitude wash over him. He had tried to hide his pain but his team had seen through that facade. 

In that moment, he realised he didn't have to be an unyielding pillar of strength all the time, his friends were there for him, ready to provide him the unyielding support and love he needed. 

The rain washed away his pain, cleansing his wounded soul. 

As it continued to fall, the titans held their friend close, offering him comfort and understanding that he was never alone, he always had them. 

It was a silent acknowledgement that they were a team bound not only by their powers and missions but also by the deep roots of friendship, love and compassion that united them. In their unity, they found strength and in Robin's vulnerability, they found a deeper connection that would carry them through even at the darkest of days.

[If you enjoyed this fic, please make sure to drop a like or a comment below! Reviews are always appreciated ♡]

[voidcat]

— steal a star from the city nights

characters: kunikuzushi, you

wc & genre: 3k – modern au

warnings/notes: consumptive of alcohol and cigarettes, implied (past) sexual intimacy in one paragraph, Scara in a COO type position as your status is somewhat high but still below his, gn!reader

playlist

The cool night air bites into your skin at the first step you take outside.

The buzzing of indoors now behind a veil, underwater, the sounds of chatter, laughter, music and glasses clinked in cheers cast aside.

Holding your glass with one hand, you walk to the edge, slow, steady steps, taking in the lonely air that holds fortitude for lonely souls like yours for tonight and any other.

Steps coming to a halt by the edge, the nose of your touch brushing against solid material, you still for a second. Crouching down to place the glass to the side, a good half a meter away from your feet and get back up, taking in a deep breath.

Closing your eyes to let the breeze brush against your face, you wait, hold, and open your eyes as you let out the breath you’ve been holding for a while; all the worries, the pent up frustration, exhaustion, all the sadness and anger.

In the solitary space you’ve crafted for yourself, it feels like being reborn again. Getting out of water, out of the womb, and meeting the sudden cold of the world all over again.

All the while the city under your feet shines away.

Slow, bright blinks of the lights, imitating stars, ‘if we cannot reach, we might as well become them.’ the city says, the people act as well.

Stars hanging up above, stars dangling down and away, walking the same streets as you do, paving the way, brewing tea– or coffee, for those stuck at offices all day long.

Stars that eat like humans do, stars that sleep, too. Stars who dream of dreamers admiring them from afar, stars who wish to be captured in a painting for eternity, stars who relish knowing people cast a wish at their sights.

Stars so close and warm, stars so beautiful and untouchable, cold to the touch.

For a second, you allow yourself to wonder what kind of star you’d be, indulging the selfish impulses for a bit, let yourself think highly like one you’ve grown too close in proximity yet universes away in any other matter entirely.

The sky is dark, save for the few faint balls of gas you can spot, only if you squeeze your eyes and know where to seek them. The thin, fragile crescent hangs there more for looks than anything else. Allowing everyone else one last glance before it disappears for a day, for a night.

Well, that’s alright, you don’t need the moon for a source of light.

Not when the city seems to shine for you, arms resting on the rails, it almost digs into your flesh but the cold air helps numb the ache.

With a sigh, you let your head fall to the side.

It is moments such as this that you love the city. 

Little moments of life to be enjoyed, to be cherished. The never ending rustling of the city is unforgiving, after all. Never waiting for anyone, rarely ever showing mercy, so make the best of it, the artificial stars created in absence of the real ones, the moon up there just for your eyes for the night.

The illusion of the dream lasts until another sigh is let out.

One that reaches your eyes when your mouth is shut, a voice you know too well, his voice carries over a faint smell of smoke and lavenders with it.

You resist the urge to turn to steal a glance, it is better this way.

Perhaps the beauty of the momentary escape had you surrounded so thick, you failed to hear the doors open and close from behind, or the steps or anything else, really.

And with only a few meters to separate the both of you, Kunikuzushi seems to follow a similar approach like your own.

Still, you cannot help but take a peak from the corner of your eyes, head still, looking onwards into nothing.

You wish you hadn’t really.

Not when he looks like this– blending so perfectly into the scene behind him, into the night, the stars of the city now serving as spotlights, he looks ethereal, like someone crafted by the hands of Michaelangelo and added into the scenery later.

It is unfair how beautiful he is, especially when his personality always seems to contradict this.

A glance shorter than a second is all you allow yourself and return back to your bubble, to keep floating in the air.

Why should you grant him your attention when he has only ever treated you to deserve your ignorance?

He seems to share a mutual agreement, from how he stands in his little spot, as if unaware of your presence, or uncaring. 

The light coming from the cigarette flickers and a puff of smoke leaves his lips.

Maybe Nyx decided to be cruel for the night.

“Aren’t you going to drink that?” he speaks quietly, softly, his eyes never leaving the city.

Turning your head halfway to the side, you settle for an observation. You’re surprised he has noticed you, let alone the drink cast aside. Is it the dim lights playing a trick or has he shuffled closer to you somehow?

Perhaps, it is his voice that is the most surprising out of everything else you’ve taken notice of in the last few minutes. You doubt you’ve ever heard his voice like this– open, faint and almost fragile, laced with no poison, no malice, no undertones of taking his frustration out of someone else.

Silence spreads back in the balcony.

With one last drag, he puts out the cigarette– another man made star fading away, one less light for the silky night.

You find it unusual he even showed up to this event at all, in all honesty.

With the track record he keeps, of barely interacting with anyone else, always has something else to get displeased about, no regard for anyone else’s feelings around him, as if feelings are such a foreign concept to him.

You recall however, trying wishing him a ‘good morning’ one early hour and being met with piercing eyes staring into your soul. The only lesson you needed perhaps, if he acts as a robot with quite the temper, he might as well get treated as such.

–“Want one?”

draws you out of your head. The distance hasn't shortened but he meets your eyes now. Hair now a tad longer than your first time meeting, lazily brushing against and falling over his shoulders.

He looks… different.

Apart from the hair, the choice of clothes and the scenery. He looks serene, calm, face somewhat empty yet there lies a sliver of emotion you cannot name.

The pack of cigarettes in one hand, tipped open, slightly held out to your direction.

You contemplate for a moment, why not indulge yourself for the second time tonight?

Your hand stops before it can even reach over. 

“Might as well help you unwind and get that stick out for once.” he says, of course, because with Kunikuzushi around, you can never go an hour without hearing a snarky comment here, an insult there, a jab over your head, a remark aimed somewhere else.

Yet his tone doesn’t sting as bad, is it the nicotine, the alcohol or something else? The very idea of him holding back, or going a little too overboard during the day time both seem to be impossible in your eyes.

Snatching one away from the pack with a quick slash of your arm, you scowl at him.

Cigarette placed between index and middle finger, waiting, if he is offering, he can be chivalrous enough to provide the fire for it.

Pulling one and tucking the pack away, he places it between his lips and takes out a small rectangle lighter with exquisite design at the sides, pushing off the cap with his thumb, its clank is the only sound surrounding you.

So you wait, in the cool empty night, no movement on your side.

Kunikuzushi takes the first step, a second one, slowly closing the gap, the fire between you both, the flickering lights dance elegantly across his face.

Bringing the bud to your lips, you lean in towards the fire, ignoring how closely you can hear him breath, feel him breath, almost nose to nose, this is the closest you’ve ever been– inhale and let out the first puff of smoke, watching it swirl around his features.

It brings a new type of light to him, the smoke dancing, surrounding him, a mysterious air to him, all the more pulling.

Like the woods up ahead, untouched, undiscovered, feared, out of reach for centuries and longer.

Almost mirroring you, he brings the lighter closer to himself next, yet leaning just a tad toward it. Leaning against the rails, your vacant arm spread on top, you hold the cigarette between your fingers lightly.

Eyes never leaving yours, he waits for the flame to jump over, inhale to let the flame stay and let out a smaller puff of smoke, shoulders dropping with the action, his grip on the lighter loosening slightly.

Delicate, slender fingers, not a single mark or cut visible. No calluses or any wounds, not in the poor light of the fire, nor under the bright artificial whites. Hands warmer than the man they belong to, careful, light, examining, observing.

Pocketing the lighter and shifting his weight to one feet, he tilts his head to the side.

A small smile gracing his features, he takes a drag and puffs it out, down toward the city.

“See? It’s not so bad to just relax for once now, is it?”

With a dry chuckle, you place your elbow on the rails, facing the doors.

“Please.” you say and twirl the hand holding the cigarette. “As if you know a single shit about me.”

Taking a drag, you let your eyes close, turning blind to the blurred lights of the inside. Just another pesky party, of people pretending, some stupid big deal celebrated. One night everyone’s allowed to drink and get loose– if they’ve gone drunk, no fake pleasantries or smiles, no sucking up or flattery.

A night for everyone to live and forget come morning. A night to pretend none of that was real, that it was all a dream.

Heaven knows the previous ones felt as such.

How can they not, when the feared and despised Scaramouche sounded like a completely different person? So much so a dream so unreal you heard his name leave his lips, no longer just a bunch of letters you’ve seen on papers, given to you personally.

Surely a dream, and nothing else.

“Oh really?” He says, he sounds amused, as odd as it is. “And what is it I need to know exactly to prove that you’re just some stuck-up, running from one floor to another all day long in the office?” he speaks word by word, careful, slow, eyes locked on you, waiting for the slightest reaction, response.

Not that he will be getting any, not as long as you’re breathing.

A cloud of smoke leaves your lips, head swaying to one side and the other, to a song that is not playing anywhere near.

“And this,” you say with a smile, tapping your left index on an invisible table, “my darling, is exactly how you are proving my point.” 

The term of endearment flies over, or perhaps he catches and tucks it away inside his breast pocket– you don’t know, cannot tell with your eyes closed.

He goes silent after that, muttering a “whatever”.

A faint laughter bubbling up from your chest at his reaction, you take another drag, letting your arms free, feeling them twirl and turn however they want, head dropping to the back, the city is a different type of beautiful from upside down.

Moments pass like this, still tucked away in your bubble despite his presence. The blurred sounds of the party creating a new song altogether.

Be it Inazuma or Snezhnaya, Mondstadt or Liyue– the breeze always carries over a piece of the ocean, all the way over.

The scent of lavender coming from the cigarette, and a hint of mint and whiskey add a satisfying layer to the air.

Pushing yourself off the rails, your eyes find his hunched up form over the city. “If you desire an explanation so badly though,” you begin, taking a step forward and another, only to turn 180 degrees, “I’m just doing my job. Didn’t realize that count as being a stuck-up, or a worker bee, as told by your latter statement, actually.”

Not caring for his reaction, or waiting for a response, you turn away, taking steps here and there, letting your body take the lead, the most conscious movement on your part is the cigarette touching your lips, the rest is half a dance, half a blending into the night.

And barely a distance away from you, Kunikuzushi watches. One arm resting on the railing, the other propped up by the elbow, chin rested against his palm, with an expression you don’t see– and one you’d find foreign on him.

For all the moving around you do with closed eyes, it’s a miracle you haven’t hit the glass on the floor yet.

“Just– what are you doing?” he says after a moment. Cigarette already put out in the whisky glass he came here with.

Despite the words he sounds amused, perhaps the strangeness of Kunikuzushi for tonight’s dream has only begun.

“Floating.”

You say the word so carelessly, so recklessly, aren’t you aware one step too far and you could hit your ribs against the balcony rails? Or worse yet, topple over them, endanger yourself.

The single word you utter however, comes out like a bubble in the air, shaking in the cool night air, floating up, up, letting the wind carry it far away.

 “What? This not good enough for your sense of unwinding?” you joke suddenly, body facing his, a smile decorating your face.

It seems familiar but he cannot recall why.

It’s certainly not one of those smiles he dislikes seeing thrown around in the office. All pleasantries, smiles and kind wishes, ‘morning, how are you’s and ‘take care of yourself’s. 

It irks him how much the people around the office, at least those you are bothered enough to converse with, seem to like you. 

He wishes you never stepped in through the doors that day.

He cannot imagine his days without you in them.

A sudden brush of something warm pulls him out of his thoughts. Your finger centimeters away from his face, you only offer him a smile with lidded eyes.

“Come on now, what’s with this face? It seems it could benefit from a smile.”

Taking one last drag from the cigarette, you keep walking, away from him, then turn again with a face he can only call sheepish and much more apologetic this time. “Or anything that’s not a scowl, really…”

Your voice trailing off, you walk back to where he is, putting out the cigarette next to his and returning to your initial position, back arched back, arms leaning against the railing again.

It is ridiculous, when he thinks about it.

How you’re acting right now, how not a single soul would dare do any of this, or even breathe one meter away from him.

And there it is again, that familiar smile on your face.

From the last dream, a deal that was his victory.

The gentle, fragile hand that has never done a labor in its wake pulling you away with him, he must’ve been tipsy, the pink tint of his cheeks said as much.

‘This is my celebration as much as yours.’ you remember someone whispering, brushing it off as a part of your very active imagination come morning. ‘It’s only fair that my best board member gets something in return.’

The breeze carrying the ocean and rest of the world comes again, filling up the space, stroking your faces.

Kunikuzushi has always been a beautiful man, yet with a smile, a genuine one, he looks truly ethereal.

He is unaware of the expression taking over his face until you quote him from earlier. “See? Not so bad now, is it?” 

Maybe Scaramouche would reply with a scowl and nothing else, but Kunikuzushi sees that cheeky smile adorning your face and shakes his head with a smile of his own, widening by the time.

Stars above and stars behind you twinkling away, you share the moment. Closing your eyes again, you settle for humming a song this time, most of the movement coming from your hands and fingers twirling and turning in place.

Another dream to enjoy tonight, to tuck it away and add to the collection before dawn.

Your eyes flutter open, but your humming doesn’t come to a stop. To your fingers, joins the slight tilting of your head once again, in accordance with the tune leaving your lips.

The blurred city life behind one another, the two of you stay, eyes on one another.

You, him and faraway man-made stars that blink in the distance.

Kunikuzushi finds himself startled, lungs forgetting how to breathe for a second when a hand reaches by his cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

“Darling, you’re so pretty, it hurts.” you say with your smile growing apparent, in a way he can only describe as sing-song.

Your hand remains in place, will you stroke his hair, or brush your fingers against his cheek?

Instead, the hand returns back to your side and in a quick motion, you crouch to grab your half full glass.

Kunikuzushi watches your back as your swinging form walks away, as if that was nothing just now– or merely a delusion crafted by his mind. The noise from the indoors increases for a second then is drowned out again.

He lets out the breath he wasn’t aware he was holding the whole time.

[addiemayh]

❛  i don’t think we’ve met yet but you looked like you needed someone to talk to.  ❜

–@honeybee-sage

Audrey jumped, harshly inhaling the cold, dry Denver air, and turned around quickly to see which unfortunate soul had caught her in her misery. She had been so lost in thought, staring up at the starless sky that she hadn't even noticed the woman standing behind her. Embarrassing, wasn't it? To be caught like this? Alone, on the cold steps outside her apartment complex, a pack of drugstore cigarettes next to her while she tried to hide an already lit one from view. Also embarrassing, seeing as she was a grown woman, who should be capable of making decisions without the fear of being judged.

And yet here she was- foggy brained, lonely, and too out of it to hold a conversation about what was bothering her. It was minute, really, compared to the rest of her shit life. She just wanted a second to herself.

But here was the.. half blonde, now that her eyes had adjusted, standing behind her, offering a listening ear when to be seen like this was the last thing she wanted. Audrey slowly turned back to face the street, heart still hammering in her chest from the scare, and tried to clear her head enough to think. She looked down at the cigarette still burning between her fingertips, and realized that keeping to herself had gotten her only so far as of late. Company couldn't hurt. And according to her therapist, self isolation is usually what ruined Audrey.

So she shrugged, and looked back at the young woman. "Really nothing to talk about," she claimed, posh accent thick. "But feel free to join me if you'd like. And, no, I don't believe we've met." She gave a half-hearted smile, not at all high enough for this horribly messy introduction.

"Audrey," She started, putting out the cigarette next to her and offering a pale hand. "It's nice to meet you."

[carmenwantslove]

Love me. Tw: Yandere things

Oh, to be someone's delightful sick desires, to be someone's obsessive fixation as my aroma brings euphoria under their flesh. The illusion of being a handsome devil's prized possession, locked down to his love as the mere sight of my glance excites and sends shivers down his spine, how sickening he'd be just to attract my attention and fall in love with me.

Break down my door, confine me to a bed of roses, the cigarettes in the atmosphere, and shower me with the love and happiness I deserve after yearning for it for so long that my non-existent heart wrinkled like a bitter old hag with deceased daydreams of her youth.

Could you blame me for desiring all of these things?

I, too, am an atrocious artist with a heart that is empty and filled with nothing but chaos and misery.

Who knows, maybe we'd both be so in love with each other that no drop of soul could ever separate us.

It'd be like Romeo and Juliet..... No, it wouldn't be as childish as that kind of fairytale, it'd be more like Gomez and Morticia's. God, their love ignites through my veins. I'd be the drug he'd take every day to survive like oxygen, and he'd be the medication for my mayhem.

How our lonely hearts would be filled to a slightest touch and gasp in the same air we breathe, I'd finally have a soul to wrap around my neck and adorn to my own comfort to this screwed up life they call a blessing.

We'd dance the tango until we were dizzy from all the cries, gaslights, and abuse, and then we'd fly to our own skies as the God himself envied our love.

I just want to feel untamed, to break free from this never-ending spiral of sorrow and loneliness that is strangling me down to the depths. The way he'd grab my wrist so harshly it'd form a bruise and pull me close to his arms, tightening his grip as I pulled away and hid these tears I'm ashamed of, the feeling of his lips against mine, so hard and rough I couldn't breathe, as he pulls away to look me in the eyes with a smile on his face.

He and I would sing gleefully, dressed up and laughing together, while the sunset gleamed happily at the sight of two lovers. How we'd stare at each other so passionately on dates, disguising the secret deep desires we have for one other, we'd have our own little paradise where we'd understand and love each other everlasting.

Our corpses shall rot together, arms wrapped around each other in our nicest clothing, ecstatically fading away in the white blood stained bed sheets with salty tears of happiness. Our bodies are lying in an ancient abandoned millionaire's house on his king-sized silk bed, our bones and flesh in the arson we set to express our love for each other. We'd kill for each other, we'd die for each other, either way what bliss. The world would hear our stories, our love letters to each other, and how viewers would adore and admire the exhilarating turmoil that offers the spark we seek.

Love me hard

Look at be with those ruby eyes of yours as you caress my skin in the dark.

In the cemetery we’d recite our vows with roses in our hair

The cold breeze music in our ears

The dead would be the luckiest audience to this wedding we promised

Be mine

And everything will be fine

Let me be yours

Love me the way I plead to be loved

Love me