#ignore the fact that it was morning and not night

[55sturn]

✮ CRYING ON SATURDAY NIGHT

pairing: psycho!matt sturniolo x fem!reader [ implied/past tense ]

synopsis: in which matt has always leaned towards all things horrifying and brutal his entire life, his very obvious issues coming out in the form of a deeply disturbing interest in gore, murder, death. he’s always known that he needs help but he’s also always been capable of keeping his instincts under control, until that fateful saturday night.

warnings: angst, blood, gore, death, guns, fire, slightly descriptive murder, swearing. literally nothing happy.

THIRD PERSON POV

everyone knows that there are three extremely distinct signs of something evil, dark, and severely fucked up manifesting in someone. and they primarily show during one’s childhood.

the signs are bed-wetting, cruelty towards animals, and some sort of obsession with either fire or something that can seriously harm, maim, or even kill someone.

and for matt, he never showed those three specific signs, but he did show a heavy and deeply twisted interest in horror, gore, death, and murder from a young age. he loved watching horror movies from as young as six. he would grow giddy as the fake blood spewed across the screen, he would even laugh as the victims in the movies died gruesome deaths.

his traits manifested in the sign of extreme intelligence despite struggling horribly in school, a strong lack of remorse and empathy, no genuine emotional connection to anyone or thing, extreme poorly regulated anger, narcissistic behaviour, and ease when it came to manipulation paired with an unbelievable level of charm.

he was never harmed or abused as a kid, in fact he grew up in an extremely stable and loving family, so when his parents started noticing how…different, matt appeared compared to other children his age, especially his brothers, they were concerned. at first they thought it was a phase, him trying to be like the effortlessly cool guys he saw in the movies he loved, until he “accidentally” set his family home on fire one day while playing with matches.

he was striking the matches, letting them burn out until they were nothing but nubs before tossing them to the floor, and chris had walked into the room, ignoring matt’s actions until he got nervous, and then chris proceeded to yell for matt to stop and that just egged matt on, so instead of listening, he took a handful of matches, struck them, and threw them in the recycling bin full of cardboard boxes and newspapers before holding chris in his arms, preventing his brother from ratting on him. matt forced chris to watch as the flames grew to a increasingly dangerous height, his eyes glistening at the sight of his creation, before letting chris run to warn their parents.

from that moment on, matt’s parents were deeply worried and took matt to therapy, in hopes that it’d help, and it did, until the one saturday night that ruined everything.

THERE’S FIFTY-TWO WAYS TO MURDER ANYONE, ONE AND TWO ARE THE SAME BUT THEY BOTH WORK AS WELL.

matt mulled over every way he’s seen someone kill another person in the movies in his head, trying to figure out what the fuck to do with the unconscious douchebag in the trunk of his car. he knew about fifty-two ways to kill someone total.

if he had taken his meds this morning, he wouldn’t have hunted the guy that you went on a with down, he wouldn’t have picked the lock and snuck into the stupid asshole’s closest, holding a police grade flashlight in his hand, the weight of the metal cylinder heavy beneath fingers, waiting until tyler opened the door to clock him over the head with it.

but he had no time to dwell over what he didn’t do, and instead he drove to his family’s cape cod house, the first two ways that popped into his head were suffocation and strangulation, but considering tyler’s build, it’d take far too long. he took a moment to breathe as he reached over and popped open the glove box, finding a box of matches sitting atop the insurance papers and the glock that he bought as soon as he turned eighteen, and an idea came to him.

as he pulled into the driveway of the family lake-house, he pocketed the matches and tucked the gun into his waistband before popping open the trunk and dragging tyler over to the fire pit, throwing his body in the middle of it before grabbing the rope from his trunk, quickly binding the guy’s arms and legs together. as he waited for him to wake up, he texted you, telling you to come to the cape house, stating it was an emergency.

when tyler woke up again, he was quick to knock him out again, planning to lead you in through the front of the house. but when your car pulled up, matt wasn’t sure what to do because you were quick to climb out and run over to him, your body trembling as you realized what matt had done.

I KNOW WHEN YOU’RE HOME, I WAS THINKING ABOUT YOU // YOU GO VICIOUSLY, QUIETLY AWAY.

your hand shook as you covered your mouth, you couldn’t fathom what you were seeing. you knew matt had some issues, and that he had a few dark fantasies but you never thought that matt, the quiet, seemingly gentle boy from your history class, was capable of murder. there was no way that your best friend, your matt, was capable of something so gruesome but he was.

“what the fuck is wrong with you matt?” you scream, unable to move your feet, feeling anchored to the spot you stood in.

“listen i didn’t want to do this, but seeing you with him set me off. i wanted to drop by your house and surprise you because i was thinking about you and i know when you’re home, but you weren’t home. so i checked your location. and then i drove by and saw you with him.” matt spits, his mind racing as he tried to reason with you.

“so what? did you ambush him in the fucking parking lot?”

“no. i tracked him down and whacked him with a flashlight and drove him here before calling you. it wasn’t hard to track him down considering how well known his family is.” matt scoffs, rolling his eyes as if that was the most obvious answer.

“you’re sick. did you call me here so you could kill me too?” you seethe, growing angry with matt’s audacity and terrified of how dangerous matt truly was.

“no. i called you here to prove that i’m doing this for you. for us. without tyler, there’s nothing standing in our way and we’ll be able to finally be together.” matt hums, his demeanour eerily calm as he flicks a handful of matches, throwing them on to tyler’s now dead and gasoline soaked body, matt had underestimated how hard the last whack to tyler’s head was before dumping a can of gasoline on him.

your sobs echoed in matt’s head as the flames grew, once again finding himself entranced by the way he could cause such a beautiful thing.

“you’re fucked in the head! i could never love someone like you!” you scream, watching as matt laughs at your comment before turning around and walking over you to, taking you face in his hands, you wanted to rip yourself away from him, to push him off of you, but you stood frozen in fear as matt looks at you.

“you don’t mean that, sweetheart.” matt whispers, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, bringing you back to reality as you shove him away.

“don’t touch me you sick bastard! i will never love a demented monster like you. you should’ve been locked up from birth or even worse, i wish you died in the fire you started as a kid.” you screech, watching as matt’s jaw clenches, his hand slipping beneath his sweater, your heart pounding as you see the gun sitting in his hand, realizing it’s now aimed at you.

“take it back you bitch. say you don’t mean it and i can spare you and we can run away and live together and fall in love.” matt whispers, his voice cracking as your words cut him deep, all he wanted was for you, for someone, to actually love him, but the things you were saying were making him think you couldn’t and if he couldn’t have you, no one else will.

“no. i don’t want to love someone as severely fucked as -“ your words were cut off as a gunshot rang through the air, and you could hear your heart pounding in your ears, and suddenly you felt something warm dripping down the front of your body. you went to wipe it away but in the gleam of the fire you see the thick, dark liquid coating your fingers, as you slowly fall to your knees.

matt had shot you in the chest.

“no no no. fuck!” matt mumbles as he pulls you into his lap, his hands trembling as he brushes your hair back, the blood in your mouth gurgling as you struggle to breath. the blood pools in your mouth causing you to cough and spit up a mouthful of blood.

“i’m so sorry sweetheart.” he whispers, tears falling down his face as he feels a strong sense of guilt for the the first time in his life, scared of what was going to happen.

“if you’re really sorry-“ you start, pausing to spit out more blood,

“you’ll turn yourself in.”

matt sobs against your shoulder, holding you tight to him as your body grows colder by the second, your breathing growing ragged and short, the time between each breath growing longer than the last. matt holds you for a long time after your last breath, softly brushing his fingers through your hair, whimpering as it grows matted with blood.

BUT THE BACKSEAT OF THE DRIVE-IN IS SO LONELY WITHOUT YOU // THERE WAS SOMETHING I FORGOT TO SAY, I WAS CRYING ON SATURDAY NIGHT, I WAS OUT CRUISING WITHOUT YOU, THERE WERE PLAYING OUR SONG.

as matt drove back to the city, his head filled with everything he forgot to tell you before you died in his arms. he had taken what you said in your past moments seriously, deciding that if he wants to genuinely make peace with himself and what he had done, he needed to confess to his crimes.

but a song on the radio caught his attention, BRIGHTSIDE by the lumineers, which was coincidentally yours and matt’s song. and subconsciously, he headed toward your favourite place. the drive-in theatre just outside of the city.

as he parked in the back row of the drive-in, he climbed into the backseat, listening to the rest of the song play as he sobbed against his hands. he knew what he had done, and there was no way to undo what he had done, so as the song finished, he climbed back behind the wheel and drove toward the police station.

AND THE COPS WONT LISTEN ALL NIGHT, AND MAYBE I’LL BE OVER JUST AS SOON AS I FILL THEM ALL IN.

as matt sat in the interrogation room, he mulled over what he could do if they set him free while the cops investigated. he figured he could possibly stop by your house, and sit in your room and smoke a cigarette, like you two used to do in highschool, one last time.

or maybe he could find a way to end his life, so he could see you one last time and hug you again, and apologize for how irrationally he acted.

but the one thing he did know was that he was coming clean for you, honouring your last words.

taglist: @worldlxvlys @gamermattsgf @vanteguccir @sturnioloshacker @mattscoquette @sugrhigh @bratzforchris @teapartyprincess4two @lustfulslxt @patscorner @guccifrog @muwapsturniolo @soursturniolo @solarsturniolo @sturnioloshacker @raysmayhem-72 @meanttomeet @breeloveschris @ghostofbrock @l9vesick @freshloveee @fawnchives @cindylcuwho @thc-bolter @freshloveforthefit @freshsturns @forevergirlposts @sturniolo-fav-matt @sturnifyed @querenciasturniolo @pinklittleflower @ellie-luvsfics @strniolo @junnniiieee07 @hearts4chriss @evie-sturns @hysteria-things @sturniolossss @iliketotalk @dazednmatthews @bambi-slxt @nickgetsmewetter @inkyray @jnkvivi @cdbabymp3 @certifiedstarrr

© 55STURN 2024 ! REBLOGS NOT EXPECTED BUT GREATLY APPRECIATED ! [ you do not have permission to copy or save or share my work to other platforms and devices! ]

[knavesflames]

Hi! Remember this?

I decided to finally make a part two. Unfortunately, no, there isn’t a happy ending. I tried and tried but couldn’t find anything that would let them be happy. The quality of this is also not as good as the first one, I fear. Alas, it is here. Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 1147

Contents: bro just sadness

utc!

Arlecchino doesn’t come home for hours. The night ticks on and for the first hour, you just sit there in tears, your outfit not at all matching, though that seems to be the least of your problems. By the second hour, your eyes and throat burn, and you feel like it’s almost impossible to stop crying, and you wonder if you ever will. You drag yourself out of the bed, the bed you’ve made love on so many times, the bed she has laid you on as she coaxed our every single orgasm you’ve ever had. The tangled bedsheets and what’s remaining of her imprint from her body is a cruel, painful reminder. A reminder that you are not the one she’s been in love with this entire time, that you were just a replacement.

You wander the halls of your home, a gigantic, lavish home. Much larger than it needs to be, really, but Arlecchino always loved to show off her wealth. You don’t look towards the walls, you know that you’ll only see many, many photos of you and Arlecchino. Ones you that you hung there, and you remember the grin on your face when they were in place. You remember how your smile faded slightly when Arlecchino replied with a simple “that’s nice, dear.” You assumed she was only tired. Every single thing you remember but ignored comes crashing onto you, and all you can do is stare at the floor like some pathetic dog being scolded for doing something they shouldn’t have. You feel pathetic, or worthless, or angry. You can’t really tell which when they all blend together. You pad around the hallways aimlessly, a hollow, miserable look in your eyes.

You find yourself in the bathroom, and one look at yourself breaks the dam and your eyes fill with tears again. You can only see her, yet you look nothing like her. Therein lies the problem, you realise. Your hair is not red, nor do you have her white headband. You stare at yourself, muttering hateful words until yourself is not yourself. Your reflection is just a blur and you can’t tell what you look like. Your fist clenches, and you understand you have to leave the bathroom before the mirror shatters over the floor. Sombrely heading towards the living room, you’re met with pure rage at the sight of the lumidouce bells. A scoff is heard from you as you notice the picture of you three right next to them. Yet again, it went unnoticed, or perhaps, ignored. In a fit of impulsivity, the photo frame crashes to the floor with a guttural scream of “I hate you!” And of course, the vase topples to the floor too. You give no fucks as to the fact it’s four in the morning, or that the neighbours will probably complain. Let them complain, you think.

Arlecchino finally comes through the door at 9am. Your face is so swollen and puffy she wonders if you’re even the same person. You hear rustling and look towards her. There, in her hands, lies a bouquet of lakelight lilies, and yet it stings more than ever before, being the second choice. But doesn’t it fit so well? Perhaps too well. You quickly look away to avoid the sixth batch of tears.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?”

A bitter laugh leaves your throat before you can even stop yourself, your gaze refusing to even glance in her direction, your voice practically a sneer.

“What, did they run out of my favourite?”

“Stop that. Please. You know I love you.”

How are you so angry, so hurt, yet your heart still beats for her? Her lips come to your forehead in a kiss, and there’s a whimper before you burst into quiet sobs again.

“You admitted you don’t. What am I to you? A friend, a lover, the way I thought we were? Or some sort of sick rebound?”

Arlecchino has a tendency to stay silent when someone is correct and she does not want to admit it. Maybe because she won’t can’t admit it to herself, maybe because she can’t see you cry anymore.

“You are a cruel woman, Peruere. You use me all these years, you pretend I am someone I am not, you ruin me, and yet I find myself choosing to wait for you to want me like a dog with a bird at the door. A stray dog chasing after any sort of attention you will give me, don’t you realise, you stupid woman? I whine for you and your affection and you choose to muzzle me and leave me at the side of the road to favour someone who died so long ago. Is that what I am to you? A mutt, waiting and ready for you to kick when you’re down?”

Your outburst is unexpected, the usually stoic and unfearing woman flinching at the sheer desperation in your words. Her lips begin to form your name, but you snarl, cutting her off.

“Call me for who you think I am. Strays and mutts cycle through names anyway, so why does it matter? Say it.”

When she doesn’t respond, your anger explodes, and you push the lilies out of her hand, trampling on them and shoving her over and over again as you demand that she calls you the name you know she’s been secretly calling you. If anyone were to push and shove her the way you’re doing, they’d be ash, a new spirit to haunt her in her dreams. Yet, she withstands it with a blank face, her eyes swirling with regret and sadness.

“Shall I bark for you, Peruere? Get on my knees and beg for you to pay attention to me? Would that make you feel better? Or shall I dye my hair red and buy a white headband, and wear that damned necklace I know you keep?”

Eventually her eyes close, and she mutters a word so quiet you almost can’t hear it over the sound of your rushing heart and your ragged breathing. Your eyes burn again, but you only wish you could burn her in her own flames until she herself becomes a spirit.

“Clervie.”

That seems to do it for you, barking out a harsh laugh that’s anything but happy. You move towards the door, sliding whatever shoes you can find on.

“Oh, my poor, mad, cursed knave. You live up to who people think you are, after all. When you’re dying in the war that will occur when your precious god gets what she wants, I hope you scream for me. I hope I’m there to watch.”

With your final words, you slam the door so hard it almost comes off of its hinges, leaving a stunned, hurt Arlecchino Peruere to clean up the mess of what she had caused, both physically and mentally, though she wonders if she ever could.

[grumpymirelurkqueen]

König with heart break but repair with your putty :

Pt2 | Pt3

Fem reader, angst, we can understand an age difference (26 - 37), European reader, free form reader, I tried, he may be corrected later, have a good read.

‘If you come back alive from this mission, I promise to start a family with you. My love.’ His wife whispered close to the shell of his ear.

It was the last sentence he heard from his wife that day.

Beautiful in a flowing summer dress on the threshold of their shared home. A simple image that made his heart swell like a balloon. The only thing missing was a child in his wife's arms. He left the warm and welcoming house with that something in mind.

Finally starting a family, she his wife who had always refused to have children. Rejecting with a wave of her hand ‘I'm a businesswoman not a housewife’ ‘I like my power as a strong woman too much for a child’. He was too much of a feminist to think there was anything else. So he gave her time. And she said this to him before leaving on a suicide mission. A surge of energy and determination swept through him.

But this feeling faded like smoke in the wind when he returned home, success in hand. Nothing. Nothing left. The house was empty, no furniture, no decor. No trace of his life with this woman.

At first he thought he'd come to the wrong house, but he was home. He couldn't believe his eyes, his heart was aching in his chest. It couldn't be true, she had promised him. How can you promise such a beautiful thing and then never fulfil it? A solitary tear stuck in the corner of his eye. He tried to step onto the steps of the doorway, a sadness without equal when he realised that she was leaving him. Without saying a word. Deep down he hoped she'd find a better man than him, one who could fulfil the desires he'd never been able to.

Too many memories in this house, memories falsely acquired. So he moved to a block of flats, not far from the barracks and far from the neighbourhood where he has friends. Ashamed, he couldn't look his neighbours in the eye when he handed over the key.

As if she never existed, König becomes the old König again. Prone to anxiety attacks, his fears gnawing at him and his new confidence problem. She had managed to cure him, or at least that's what he thought of her.

He's been living in a modest flat for six months now. Working morning, noon and night. No limits. Just him wanting to forget his ex-wife. Every time he came back from a short mission and lay in his cold bed. His thoughts went to his happy wife. Happy but not with him. He couldn't take it any more, so in the second month he decided to work until the last breath he could give. To keep his thoughts away from her.

It was the middle of November, when temperatures plummeted in Berlin. A young neighbour arrived on his floor. The first time they met, he paid her no mind. She was in the lift with a removal box in her arms and two others at her feet. The cold had turned her ears and nose red, which Köning noted innocently. She was wearing a complete arsenal to combat the cold, and he had deduced that she must be from one of the neighbouring countries. Over the years, König had become accustomed to this coolness, but he couldn't ignore the fact that even in his military uniform and bonnet, there was a constant chill in this faded old building.

Curious about her new neighbour, she hadn't noticed that her eyes had been on him a little too long. Feeling her eyes on him, König turned his head from the ground to see her smile shyly at him before burying her head in her scarf. She was intimidated by his icy blue eyes. He had paid no attention to his own cold, hard demeanour. Something he had never done before. He who had always been gentle and shy had become everything he hated.

Once the lift door opened, announcing their floors, König ran away from the poor young woman. Through this encounter, the woman understood certain things about her new neighbour. Things they both share, in different ways.

[littlechameleonguy]

Figure Out What the Rest Means (part 1?)

Pairing: Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland

Rating: E

Word Count: 2386

Charles and Edwin might have come out of hell with a little different points of view from the confession. Gladly, Charles finally realizes that too.

Charles watched fondly as Edwin and Crystal bantered about how to handle their research about the new case while simultaneously getting ready to leave the office. They’d come a long way since Port Townsend. Of course, they were still Edwin and Crystal, still bickering, still both too stubborn for their own good but they were also friends now and that was just brills. His two favorite people getting along was a big win in Charles’ book.

“So we’re off then,” Edwin announced to Charles and Niko who were staying behind at the office. Charles had to clean up the backpack and in extend parts of their storage and Niko was still going through Edwin’s books to memorize as many supernatural phenomena as possible. They all had to adjust to the new situation but it was great.

Their agency had grown. Crystal and Niko were in the office almost every day but stayed with Jenny during the nights in a small flat. So the nights still belong to Edwin and Charles and their research as it always had been. Also, the Night Nurse (no, Charles was not allowed to call her Charlie) popped in from time to time to check on them. She was still cold and distant most of the time but Charles was sure she was warming up a little. Everyone liked him eventually.

So things were great, really great. Everyone he loved was around and still, things between him and Edwin had kind of stayed the same, at least when they were alone. But that was the problem though, wasn’t it? After what happened in hell Charles had expected things to be a little different but they weren’t. In fact, Edwin acted like his whole confession had never happened and that was a little confusing.

Charles was of course happy that it hadn’t gotten weird between them, that was truly the last thing he wanted but he’d hoped for a little more. Edwin completely ignored every bit of flirting on Charles’ part and he didn’t say or do anything different than before himself. Which was fine, their friendship was amazing, always had been but Charles had thought that they would move to something else and they hadn’t and he hated to admit it but he was a little disappointed. He’d thought they wanted to figure out the feelings between them and it was just not happening.

But right now Edwin smiled at him and if Charles still had a beating heart, it would have probably stopped for a second. “If you find the book about deep-water plant life, can you put it on the desk for me?” He asked and Charles nodded. The damn thing should be somewhere in the bag. “Sure, mate. Have fun,” he responded to both Edwin and Crystal. “Have fun!” Niko echoed and moved to Charles’ side to see them off. Crystal waved them goodbye and she and Edwin left.

Charles didn���t realize he was staring at the door for multiple minutes until Niko liked their arms. He looked down at her and she was already smiling warmly at him. “I noticed something,” she said with a cute little melody in her voice. She was adorable. “You’re staring,” she finished. He grinned not ashamed at all. “Am I?” She nodded. “You’ve been staring at Edwin all morning and.” She stretched out the word. “you’re smiling a lot while doing so.”

Charles still wasn’t ashamed, he didn’t care that he got caught. Edwin was damn pretty, sue him. “I have, haven’t I?” he agreed still grinning and Niko hugged his arm even tighter in return. “If I wouldn’t know better, I’d say you like him after all.” Charles raised a brow. “Who said I don’t?” Her smile faded a little and she tilted her head questioning to one side. “You?” She answered confusing Charles further.

“Of course, I like Edwin, what are you talking about?” That on the other hand seemed to confuse Niko further. “He confessed his feelings for you, didn’t he?” She asked and Charles nodded even though he wasn’t sure how much Edwin had told Niko. “Yeah,” he answered slowly. “And you told him you didn’t like him back that way, right?” She investigated further.

Charles blinked multiple times before he was able to form a sentence again. “Is that what he said? That I don’t like him back.” Niko shrugged but then nodded. Charles gasped for air he didn’t really need. This had to be a joke but part of him already knew it wasn’t because suddenly their whole not changed situation made a lot more sense. “That is what Edwin got from that conversation? Bloody hell.” He tried to stay calm, this wasn’t Niko’s fault.

“What did you say to him?” She asked and at this point, Charles saw no reason not to tell her. “I told him that I love him. I told him that he is the most important person in the world for me. I told him that there is no one else I would go to hell for. I just…” he hesitated because this was so frustrating and his voice had gone louder with every sentence. “But I also said that I can’t say that I’m in love with him,” he concluded a lot quieter.

He looked at Niko and felt almost desperate for her to understand. She wasn’t Edwin, she wasn’t the person who needed to understand but right now Charles just needed anyone to understand. “I told him that we’ll figure this out, that we have forever to figure this out but Niko I love him, of course I love him. How can he not know that?”

Her smile returned and she hugged his arm a little tighter for a moment. “Because he’s Edwin, he rarely expects good things to happen. Neither do you by the way,” she added and raised both her eyebrows for a second. Again, he blinked confused. “What do you mean?” Her smile got brighter. “That you too are missing the point here.” He still didn’t get it. “You like Edwin and Edwin likes you,” she clarified. “And even though you have known that for the last couple of months, he hasn’t.”

His frustration vanished. She was right. Edwin hadn’t acted on the fact that they both liked each other because Edwin didn’t know. “I have to tell him,” he concluded and Niko happily started to bounce on her feet. “Yes! We can fix it!” She sounded excited and somehow that made Charles excited too because she was right. It just wasn’t right that Edwin didn’t know that he meant the world to Charles. He needed to make this clear so that even Edwin’s thick, self-deprecating head would have to understand.

“Right, you’re right. I can fix this, I will fix this.” He grinned and so did Niko. “You’ll help me, yeah?” He asked and nodded excitedly. And so they started planning, completely abandoning the tasks they were supposed to work on today.

If Charles had had more time, he would have liked to prepare more but Niko’s phone had buzzed about ten minutes ago with a message from Crystal that she and Edwin were on their way back. Niko had bought him a little extra time by asking if they could bring food but Charles still had to wrap this up.

They were on the roof because it came down to this or the office, and he didn’t want to do this downstairs. The office was their place but it certainly wasn’t a really romantic place. The roof suited a love confession much better, not that Charles could use a worse place than Edwin had. Also, Niko was amazing, she had brightened up the place in no time.

There were fairy lights and candles and a nice place with blankets and pillows for Charles and Edwin to sit. Charles had mostly just done what she’d suggested and he didn’t regret it, it looked cozy. He’d also added the little touch of him and Edwin he needed for this. There was the lamp Edwin had brought when Charles had died, the same one Charles had used in hell to save Edwin. It was just fitting and also he wanted a little more light than just the fairy lights and candles because he also had brought books. He didn’t want to read them particularly, he more wanted them to just be around.

There was the book Edwin had read to him the night they’d met and a play of Orpheus and Eurydice Edwin had got for him after he confessed in hell, so that Charles knew how this story ended. (He’d never finished it. He already knew it ended badly, so he didn’t want to know.) Also, some other books he just knew Edwin liked, including the one he was currently reading and the deep-water plant one he found in the bag so he’d at least done part of his assigned job.

“We should go back downstairs, they should be here any minute now,” Niko said and Charles nodded. She searched his eyes. “Are you ready?” She was probably as jittery about this as he was. He grinned. “Yeah.” Then he shook his head. “Also no.” She chuckled. “I’m sure it will be great.” He smiled and then he hugged her. “Thank you.”

Charles tried to act natural after they went down but he was restless about this. How could this be so hard? He already knew that Edwin was in love with him, there was nothing he needed to worry about. He still did. If he’d still been alive his heart would be racing right now and his hands would be so sweaty. There was no point in denying it, he was nervous. He couldn’t stare at the door, he needed to calm down. So instead he fixed his eyes on the desk.

When the door opened, Charles turned again and suddenly the world seemed to hold. It was a good thing that he didn’t need to breathe anymore because seeing Edwin and knowing he would confess to him tonight made him forget that breathing used to be a thing. Edwin was beautiful and of course, Charles knew that, he’d known Edwin for decades but at this moment it hit Charles with full force. Edwin was radiant.

Charles hadn’t realized that the others were talking until Edwin addressed him. “Charles, are you all right?” For a second that felt far longer Charles couldn’t speak. “I love you,” he blurted out. Edwin just smiled fondly. “I know, I lo…” “No!” Charles interrupted him. “You don’t know, that's the problem.” He sounded more angry than he wanted to, he wasn’t angry after all, just frustrated.

For a second the room got uncomfortably silent. “Okay, I think that is our cue to go,” Crystal said then and took Niko by the arm who gave Charles a weak smile. He smiled back. “I’m sorry, that’s not quite how I planned it,” He apologized but she just smiled brighter and gave him two thumbs up while she and Crystal left.

Only when the door had fallen shut, he turned back to Edwin who wasn’t quite looking at him. “Listen, mate, I’m sorry, again not what I’ve planned but I hate that you don’t know. How can you not know?” Edwin still didn’t look at him. “You said you were not in love with me.” His voice was barely more than a whisper. “Well no, I didn’t. I said that I can’t say that I’m in love with you.” He moved a little closer to his best friend. “I also can’t say I’m not in love with you.”

Edwin finally met his gaze. He looked shocked. “Elaborate,” he asked and Charles was only too happy to oblige. “I love you,” he said again, both because Edwin needed to know and because it just felt good to say it. “But in love seems big, very big. When I say that to you, I want to be one hundred percent sure that I mean it. Shit, man, we were in literal hell, we haven’t even kissed and you expected me to say that I’m in love with you just there and then, nay. I want to do this right. I owe you to do this right.” He shook his head and then corrected himself. “I owe us to do this right.”

Edwin drew in a breath he didn’t need. He still looked so uncertain and Charles hated that. “I’m still confused, Charles. What does that mean exactly?” Charles couldn’t stop himself from actually groaning in frustration. “Okay, let me make it absolutely clear so that even you get this into your thick scull; I love you, as more than a friend. I want to be with you. You’re the smartest person I know, how can you not get this?”

“Charles, I…” “Nah,” Charles interrupted him. “I’m not done.” He moved another step closer so that there was almost no space left between them and cupped Edwin’s face in his hands. Edwin leaned into the touch and suddenly Charles had no idea what he’d been about to say. “You’re so beautiful,” he said instead. Edwin made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob and he let his forehead gently fall to Charles’.

“Just to be sure I got this properly into my thick scull; You love me?” He asked and Charles made a sound that sounded pretty similar to the one Edwin had just made. “Yes, Edwin Payne, I love you,” he answered without hesitation. “I love you too, Charles Rowland,” Edwin answered and Charles felt like he could swallow the sun.

He chuckled. “Took us long enough, didn’t it?” “I was warned that it might take literally forever,” Edwin joked and Charles wanted to kiss him. Instead, he moved back a little to lock eyes with Edwin. “Do you want to see what Niko and I had actually planned for me to confess?” He asked and Edwin raised a brow. “Planned?” Charles grinned.

Now that the hard part was already out of the way, he was excited to show Edwin what they’d prepared on the roof. “Come on,” he said and he took Edwin’s hand like he’d done a million times before. Only this time it meant so much more.

************

But why don’t they kiss? Easy, the story’s not done! But honestly, no idea when motivation might strike again, sorry ^^° Wish me luck!

[blissfulip]

—Legion

On AO3

Priest!Viktor x F!demon!reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Priest Kink, Blasphemy, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Flagellation, Demon Sex, Demon Summoning, Demon/Human Relationships, demon reader, AU - Canon Divergence, Post medieval era, Dubious Science, Church Sex, Roman Catholicism, Catholic Guilt, Improper Use of Catholic Rituals, Shameless Smut, Masturbation, No use of Y/N, third person.

Cw: -

Words: 2.1k

[A/N: I'm alive, alas. Slowly getting back into writing, so bear with me as this one is a bit clunky. (let me know if you want to be tagged or removed in future fic updates!)]

Tags: @ihopeinevergetsoberr @chemical-killjoy @jinxed-jk @bobobomao @queen-of-elves @thedustybunny @syren201 @thayfass @thehistoriangirl @hypocritic-trash-baby @zaunitearchives

Previous

IV. 

The unadorned walls were bare , save for a few peeling patches of paint, and the hanging crucifix was now slightly askew, the squashing emptiness swallowing him as the corners of the room seemed to stretch into infinity. The moonlight shifted, casting a new set of shadows that seemed to twist and writhe like the memories of her that haunted him, and in the quiet of the night, dawn approaching, he drifted asleep, his dreams hollow, bereft, and yearning for something that was no longer. 

The pale gray hue of the morning filtered through Viktor’s eyelashes, painfully morphing into colorful blobs of light inside his eyelids. He lay still, dreading the image of his enclosure in fear of what he might see. When he shifted slightly on the mattress, fully expecting that—now familiar—stinging pain, it was the absence of it that startled him into opening his eyes.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat there, head in his hands, trying to piece together the fragments of his shattered memories of the previous night. The crucifix on the wall was as perfectly symmetrical as it had been. His clothes from the previous day lay neatly folded, not discarded in a moment of despair but meticulously placed. 

Viktor forced himself to stand, each movement sluggish and weighed down by the heaviness in his chest. He wandered to the window, looking out at the city below. The world outside continued to move, indifferent to his confusion. He turned back to the room, and the vertical rays of sunlight reflected over the wooden door were a cruel mirror of the oppressive feeling inside him.

"It was just a dream. Heavens above, a nightmare rather," he whispered to himself, desperate to cling to that hope. 

He sank to the floor, his back against the wall and his good knee drawn up to his chest. He closed his eyes and tried to remember her voice, her touch, and the way she spoke to him. But the images were already starting to blur into oneiric shards of memory, delusory scenes that he had made up to cope with whatever bizarre day he had experienced. He had open arms to accept this as fact, but then he looked askance for what should have been less than a second—a hand’s distance away from him, on the floor—and something reflected a small flicker of light in his direction. 

A frail little piece of copper, with a symbol etched on it, was no stranger to him. 

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

The coin was left there, untouched, and Viktor quickly stood up, got dressed, and made his way to the chapel with the intention of seeking confession. Ignoring something has never been proven to make it disappear, but he believed in so many things that had no proof. What's one more day to a life sentence? As he approached the vestry, he heard voices—a gruff, authoritative one and another, softer and more submissive.

Pushing open the door quietly, Viktor saw Father Isidore standing on a small platform, his arms outstretched as a tiny, stooped old man adjusted the fit of a new set of robes. 

"Careful, you fool," Father Isidore snapped, glaring down at the old man who fumbled with the hem. 

The old man mumbled an apology, his hands trembling as he continued his work. Father Isidore's mitre rose high, a stately crown of pristine white, adorned with intricate gold embroidery that glinted with each subtle movement. The patterns weaved a tapestry of reverence and power, a fitting halo for one chosen to serve the divine, at the cost of what could probably feed a family for an entire year. Below, his chasuble cascaded in folds of rich golden yellow, a hue that caught the light and transformed it into a soft glow. This garment, heavy with the weight of the vows of poverty they had both made, bore elaborate designs that told false stories of faith and sanctity. 

The bitter taste of resentment came back to Viktor’s throat. He had come here to confess his own misgivings, but now he was confronted with a deeper, more troubling disquiet. And as acrimony poisoned his heart once more, he felt a small, cold hand resting on his shoulder. His skin prickled, and a cold sweat began to form on his brow. He felt her presence—an unnerving familiarity that made his heart pound in his chest. The air around him seemed to grow colder, the light dimmer. He tried to shake off the feeling, attributing it to his own inner turmoil, but it clung to him, persistent and insidious.

A whisper, soft yet piercing, curled into his ear like a serpent. 

“What a despotic panoply of gold and moral deviance—so much for humility and sacrifice,” her voice whispered in his ear. "I, too, would feel betrayed.” 

Viktor’s eyes darted to his left and right, noting the people before him. He couldn't afford to alarm them; he couldn't let them see his fear. His heart pounded in his chest as he forced himself to remain still. A bead of sweat trickled down Viktor’s temple. He swallowed hard, his mind racing. He knew she sought to unnerve him and break his spirit. Summoning every ounce of his will, he started to pray in his mind, each word a lifeline in the gathering darkness.

“ Júdica Dómine nocéntes me; expúgna impugnántes me. Confundántur et revereántur… ” he started, pulling the string of words from a distant memory. 

“Haven’t we established that your god does not listen to your prayers, Viktor?”

Her voice rang loud and clear to him, but the unmoving expressions of the two men before him made it apparent that they could not hear her. “. ..quaeréntes ánimam meam. Avertántur retrórsum et confundántur, cogitántes míhi mála.” He continued, now fearing he had gone insane.

“Never you mind, my sweet. I’ll be gone again soon, but first, I thought you should know the delightsome old lady you lied for yesterday has been excommunicated for ‘transferring her tithe to another person’” 

She stayed long enough to delight in the sudden indignation Viktor felt, gently brushing her hand over the rosary he had tightened his grip around before melting into thin air from where she came from quickly, as there was no one when he turned back to express his anger. His breath came in shallow, controlled measures, and the men were unaware of the silent battle that had taken place but now aware of Viktor’s presence as he stepped inside the room completely. 

“Viktor, come in, come in, feeling refreshed this morning?” He said, clearly an excoriation made to mock Viktor’s clearly tired presence. 

The anger Viktor had been holding in check surged to the surface. "Is it true?" he demanded, his voice trembling with suppressed emotion. "Did you excommunicate her?"

Father Isidore did not seem grieved by his accusation; if anything, he stood dignified in his decision. 

“It’s certainly interesting that you feel wronged by it, considering it was your fraudulent lies that caused this.”

“My— “ Viktor had to stop himself from saying anything more, and he left the room hurriedly before his resolve to stay quiet betrayed him. 

This was it—the drop that contained the sea. 

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

As he walked back to his quarters, his thoughts drifted back to the market, where he had often seen the old woman. Her face, lined with age and hardship, right next to the rubicund face of plump arrogance, seemed frail. She wore a threadbare shawl over her hunched shoulders, and he wore gold tread and rich velvets. Her fingers gnarled and trembled as she sold her meager wares—simple trinkets and worn fabrics. Viktor recalled the way her eyes had sparkled with gratitude when he had offered her a few coins for a trinket he didn’t need, insignificant next to the bishop’s half-a-dozen golden rings and precious jewelled rosary beads. 

The church itself was a monument to grandeur, with its towering spires, stained glass windows, and intricate carvings. It was a place where wealth was displayed in every corner, from the gilded altar to the finely wrought candelabras. Viktor had always taken pride in the beauty of his church, believing it reflected the glory of God. One step outside of it, though, would transport him to the cobblestone roads lined with the destitute, families huddled in the cold, and children with hollow eyes and empty stomachs. 

The market would be bustling with activity, but it was a scene of struggle and survival. People bartered and begged, their faces etched with the desperation of poverty, but their eyes still smiled when they saw him, hopeful that his presence—to them, divine—would at least save their souls. 

His cup was overflowing. 

With a determined stride, Viktor crossed the room and pulled the book from the shelf. He ran his fingers over the cover, feeling a surge of excitement and defiance. The prohibition that had once held him back now seemed an affront to the pursuit of truth and knowledge. The anger within him had crystallized into a clear resolve: if the church could betray its principles, then he no longer felt bound by its restrictions.

Viktor sat at his desk, opening the white-covered book with reverent hands. The pages were filled with meticulous diagrams and elegant prose, and as he began to read, the words seemed to leap off the page, igniting a passion that had been suppressed. The theories and observations weren’t groundbreaking to him, but they challenged the very foundations of the geocentric worldview that the Church so adamantly defended.

The elegant simplicity of the heretic’s heliocentric model resonated so deeply with Viktor, aligning with the sense of order and reason he had always believed in, that it almost brought genuine laughter out of him. He continued with his studies, not quite hiding it anymore but not eager for Father Isidore to find out either. Viktor turned, already sensing her presence before he saw her. She materialized from the shadows, her form unmistakable. Her eyes, burning with a white light, fixed on him with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

"Hanging up the cassock, are we?” This time, her voice resonated clearly in the room instead of in his head.

There was no fear in Viktor this time; he stood his ground, meeting her gaze with a calm intensity. “No, but I’ve confronted a reality I was blind to.”

She smiled. “Is that gratitude I sense in your voice?” 

It was, but he did not answer. 

“You walk a dangerous path, Viktor; it is casuistic and intellectually dishonest of you to keep pretending you hold the same values as you did before.” 

“Many people have done it before; many have conciliated science and faith.”

“And all of them have been either branded as heretic and excommunicated or executed. Take a guess at where they are now.”

“Purgatory?” He said with a defeated but somehow playfully sarcastic tone. 

“What an extraordinary hoax purgatory is; at least have the guts to commit to the inferno.” She chuckled. 

Viktor had to quickly catch himself before he shared a laugh with her, immediately reverting into a pessimistic tone as he turned back around, away from the good-humored environment. 

“I can’t leave; this community needs me.”

“They do. It is far from me to express antagonism against that.” 

“You are trying to convince me to.”

“No. But you will see that you do not need organized religion to help those people. Eventually you will.”

“Perchance.” He said, Pensive. 

She circled him slowly. "You intrigue me. There is strength in you, a strength that few possess. I will watch your journey with great interest." 

Viktor’s resolve wavered slightly under her gaze. There was an intensity in her eyes that unnerved him, a predatory gleam that spoke of desires beyond his understanding. 

"Watch if you will," he said, his voice steady. "I will not be swayed by you again.”

Her smile widened with a knowing, almost lascivious grin. "So sure of yourself," she purred, her voice dripping with seduction. She stepped closer, the air around her growing colder. “Why are you so ready to defy the dogma when it comes to science but so hesitant when it comes to your own indulgence?”

“It’s selfish,” he answered almost immediately. “Hedonistic.” 

“It would be, if you were seeking pleasure at someone’s expense. The idea that seeking self-gratification is selfish is merely puritan ideology; I trust you are now beyond that, after what I showed you last time.” 

Her fingers trailed down his arm, and Viktor fought to suppress the shiver that followed. He met her gaze, his eyes filled with defiance. 

"I will not yield."

“And I will not make you. You will call for me; you will yearn .”

[minhosbitterriver]

ꖛ ꙳꯬ 🦇 ‘till forever falls apart 𓂅 ໋⋅

「 other works by green. 」 「 kofi 」 「 free palestine 」 「 series index 」

‧₊° pairing. han jisung x idol!fem!reader

‧₊° content warnings. han deals with a lot of anxiety and depression. reader has fibromyalgia. constant mention of being in pain. love-making. cussing. lots of angst. more to be added.

‧₊° rating. 18+

‧₊° summary. in which two disabled idols find comfort in each other’s arms.

prologue. lady of the night

Lady of the night, come out and kiss your stars

Whisper to the moon, and show us where you are

A sea of people sang to you, holding their red light in the air as they did so. Under the harsh rain that hit their skin like bullets yet they remained in place, raising their voices to be heard over the constant thunder in your ears — a mixture of the weather and your own heartbeat.

In the shadows deep, where the lost souls weep

You dance alone, in the dark so far

The microphone in your hand was taken from your hands as people from backstage rushed to your aid, yet you held your hand up to signal them to stop as you slowly raised your gaze to see the crowd. Air ceased to exist the moment your eyes met theirs. The singing continued as they watched you, perhaps waiting for you to join them, though you genuinely could not find a single thread of motivation to help you through.

Oh, Lady of the night, with your eyes so bright

Guide us through the endless night

Though your body tensed and screeched in pain, you found enough strength to sit up enough to pull your feet from under yourself in order to sit down properly, ignoring the fact that this dress was not made for such a thing. Still, you allowed the rain to attack your body while your mind and heart was soothed by the sound of your very first song being sung by hundreds of people you were afraid might leave. But they didn’t. They have remained here, with you.

With your spectral light, take us to new heights

Lady of the night, be our silent guide

The people who were previously trying to help you exit the stage immediately were now standing to the side, ready to move at the beck of your call. Though your manager stood amongst those people, face red with fury as he burnt holes into your frail body. However, not a single care seemed to reach your conscience at this moment.

Winds begin to howl, as you make your silent call

Through the ancient trees, your ghostly footsteps fall

In the midnight air, there’s a longing there

For the dreams you weave, in your silver shawl

As the song continued on, your heartbeat slowed to a rhythm that didn’t seem to want to make her veins burst, and for the first time in weeks did you know peace. Pure and simple peace. The entire world spun steadily, your thoughts stopped racing, and air returned to your lungs like cold water at the height of the summer heat. Your eyes fell close, and the corners of your lips quirked up into a soft smile.

Although you hadn’t noticed at first, you’d been mouthing the words that started the snowball that is your career and it was as though you had finally grasped the lyrics you had written yourself.

Lady of the night, won't you come out and kiss your stars

In your tender light, we’ll forget our scars

As the song came to an end, you reached out to the person closest to you and with their help, came to your feet. This action seemed to encourage the audience as their voice grew louder, and you couldn’t help the tears that you hadn’t realized you’d been holding back.

Till the morning’s hue, we’ll dream with you

Lady of the night, wherever you are

Oh, what a time to be alive.

word count: 0.5k 🦇 posted: 06 • 01 • 2024

💬 a note from green;

by popular vote, i present to you: TFFA! i’m so so happy to be back guys, y’all have no idea the amount of stress i’ve been feeling and all the shit i had to deal with. i am quite literally penniless, am back home where all the stress and crap i try to avoid throughout the semester just sits there, waiting and now i gotta do something about it. i’m just…lowkey not okay haha.

anyways, i’m happy to be writing again! i know this one in particular is probably the shortest thing i’ve ever posted BUT more will come, this is just a snippet of the shitshow that’s coming and i’m honestly so excited.

( 🏷️ ) taglist: @agi-ppangx

[brisquad-unit-4402]

what the fuck did i do last night

[penddraig]

friendly reminder that if you ever gain muse for video game characters, finish the actual game before you consider anything wild. i'm completely in pain about rdr2

[youremyonlyhope]

why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up

[bookworm-2692]

I gotta say the tags you left on that reblog on why you followed me are by far one of the best collections of tags I've ever gotten. but you've awakened my curiosity. What was the Twitch chat that started this? What did I say???? I'M SO CURIOUS BECAUSE BOY HOWDY I'VE SAID SOME INTERESTING THINGS-

I couldn't remember exactly, so I went back and searched Discord for images I sent and apparently it was just a super tame message.

The thing that made it significant, however, was the fact that I had never heard the Diggy Diggy Hole song before this year... despite having watched minecraft youtube videos since 2012. Somehow I missed that. A month or two ago I mentioned something from a different Impulse stream about diggy diggy and my friend @bibliobasilisk forced me to watch several iterations of the song (which I'm grateful for. It's a bop. As you would know).

So anyway I sent that screenshot to her like "hey look someone in chat said this" because i thought it was hilarious and then I was like "also I recognise their name from tumblr. unrelatedly". And then she was like "ah swedish tumblr, just looked them up" and then, being half swedish myself, I got hella excited:

And then I proceeded to scroll on your tumblr for like 20 minutes before unpausing the Impulse vod to continue watching. And I've been following you ever since then.

So a combination of me recognising your name, and my friend sussing out that you're Swedish (and the fact that diggy diggy is still relatively new to me) and bam. I'm here now.

Also in looking for that screenshot, it turns out that I screenshotted a second message of yours from a different stream:

Because Hermitgang my beloved

[disorentedfae]

Good night y’all’s

[star-tourney]

thank you all for submitting!! the support for this is definitely really cool to see :3 I will prepare the brackets in the coming days.. be patient and keep your eyes peeled

[truethes]

beating the kav.eh can't hold his claymore hcs

[rubiesintherough]

.

[baeshijima]

OMG URE EXCITED FOR HSR TOO???? i swear i never see any of the blogs i follow ever talk about it but aaaaa im so glad to know ure hyped for it too ^^ out of curiosity, who are u most excited for in terms of gacha characters we have seen in cbt2? personally i am most excited for jing yuan (uGH hes so <3) and seele!

ALALALSLDFSD NONNIE UR EXCITED FOR STAR RAIL TOO OMGOMG MORE HSR WAITERS 😭😭🫂 and i know what u mean !!! me and two of my friends (coughs @stellumi & @kamiiyaka coUGHs) are the ones who talk abt it with each other the most HKLDF

AND YES OMG JING YUAN AND SEELE BELOVEDS <3333 for me, as ive talked abt when cbt2 first came out, the ones im saving everything for are blade and luocha !!! they just !!!! sighs.

[sapientiiae]

@phoenixfiiire asked: "God I love hearing you enjoy yourself when they touch you." nsfw sentence starters feat. @dragonliiight

The pleasure-filled gasp that slipped between lips as soft and pink as a rose had done so against her will. Normally, the maiden did her best to maintain her composure and stay as quiet as possible, even when she felt she’d been wound up tight like a coil. 

She’d been all too aware of the gasp she’d accidentally released, near mortified that she’d allowed her pleasure to get the best of her. She’d hoped to just move past it, though she was proven to be sorely mistaken when Joshua decided to instead comment on that same noise. Even if his remark had been a moment of praise for the sound, the princess thought she might wither and die. Her cheeks felt hot and flushed as deep red as a burn, the color spreading up to the pointed tips of her ears. 

Under normal circumstances, she might have protested against Joshua saying things that he very likely knew would get her worked up. However, she was more than a bit vulnerable at the moment, completely exposed as she laid across the bed like some sacred relic to be admired. 

“Joshua—“ The name left her in a groan as she was prepared to plead that he never make such commentary again. However, any further protest immediately perished on the tip of her tongue, instead replaced by a sensual moan as her head tipped back while Dion once again flicked his thumb over that incredibly sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of her porcelain thighs. 

Realistically, she shouldn’t have been embarrassed. Her bedchamber was far enough away from the busiest parts of the castle, and the maids knew to not disturb her this late in the evening. And Joshua had just admitted, out loud, to enjoying hearing such sounds from her. Still, it wasn’t enough to keep the Hylian royal from burying her face into her hands, and she was almost certain she heard one of the males barely suppressing a chuckle before a finger slowly and teasingly ran along her slit before slipping inside of her.