#its a good reminder to just take a second breath and remember this bit of life isn't for forever

[beemintty]

"tomorrow the sun will rise"

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (part two)

(part one)

Steve doesn’t know how long they sit there in silence, waiting. It’s making him insane. The seconds pass too slow; the seconds pass too fast. His mind is a storm; his mind is empty. He’s feeling too much; he’s not feeling at all. He paces the room; he sits catatonically against a wall. He needs to get out of here; he needs to stay. 

He’s been here before, just barely over a week ago, tense and anxious and despairing and waiting for news. But waiting to hear if Eddie will ever remember him again really should not feel this much worse than waiting to hear if Eddie will ever fucking breathe again. Steve thinks there must be something wrong with him. He’s being selfish and stupid. His pathological fucking need to be loved is not what’s important right now. Eddie is alive and awake and okay and that’s the only thing that really matters. That’s the only thing he should really care about.

Steve’s pacing again now, yanking his hands through his hair as he does laps around the room until Eddie finally appears in the doorway. 

Eddie must’ve just cracked a joke or something because the nurse is laughing as she pushes his bed into the room and he’s got this adorable grin on his face. Steve’s heart twists in his chest and he nearly bursts into tears all over again because god does he want nothing more than to press a kiss to those dimpled cheeks. 

“Good news, boys,” Eddie announces. “My brain is fully intact.”

“There’s no physical permanent damage to his brain,” the nurse elaborates. “His amnesia is likely a result of psychological trauma and the temporary disruption of brain function from blood loss and lack of oxygen that occurred at the time of his injury. But there is no obvious reason why he shouldn’t regain his full memory, given time.” 

So there’s hope. Steve breathes a sigh of relief. 

“That is good news,” Wayne agrees. 

Steve asks, “How much time?” 

The nurse gives an unhelpful shrug. “Impossible to say. It could be anywhere from days to months, or even years. I’m sorry, there’s no way for us to know.” 

Years. “Okay.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. He can keep it together. He can. “Thanks,” he tells the nurse. “I, uh-” He makes the mistake of looking at Eddie who looks right through him, and Steve can’t keep it together anymore actually. “I gotta update the kids,” he mutters, backing his way towards the door. Wayne nods in acknowledgment; no protests this time at Steve’s excuse to leave.

“See ya, Harrington,” Eddie calls after him, casual, impersonal, like they're nothing more than acquaintances passing by each other in a high school hallway.  

Steve can’t get out of that hospital fast enough. 

He makes it to his car in record time, slamming the door shut and sinking heavily into the driver’s seat. A ragged sob tries to claw its way up his throat now that he’s finally alone, but he forces it back, staving off his breakdown for just a little bit longer. As much as it was an excuse, he really does have to update the kids. 

Steve fishes his walkie out of the glove box. “Code - whatever, I don’t know. Code Eddie,” he says. He doesn’t remember the kids’ system of codes, nor would he be sure which one this news falls under even if he did. 

“Is he okay? Is he awake?” comes an immediate, eager response from Dustin. “Over.” 

“Yeah, he’s awake, and he’s fine, except he’s got pretty bad amnesia. The doctors say it should be temporary, but right now he doesn’t remember anything since May of ‘85,” Steve explains, trying his best to keep his voice even.

“Steve, come pick me up and take me to see him,” Dustin demands, “right now. Over.” 

“Me too. Over,” Mike chimes in before Steve can respond. 

“And us,” Erica adds as well. 

Steve pauses for a second, both to steady his own breath and to make sure no one else wants to jump in on this too, before he reminds them, “He won’t know you, any of you.” 

“I don’t care,” Dustin says, bossy as ever. “Just come get me. Over.” 

“Jesus Christ, kid,” Steve mutters to himself. He sucks in another breath; it wobbles dangerously. He’s just about reached his limit on how long he can keep himself from falling apart. “I- I need a minute, alright?” he manages through the walkie. “Can you just give me, like, an hour? And then I’ll take you guys to visit Eddie.” 

Steve doesn’t wait for a response before he slams the antenna closed, tosses the walkie aside, and finally, finally lets himself shatter. That sob rips free from his throat, followed by another and another and another. Tears flood from his eyes; his nose runs. It’s an ugly, gross, visceral cry that leaves him exhausted and raw and aching to be held by the time the last sob shudders out of him. Drained and hollow, he craves the embrace of someone who knows him, someone who loves him. 

He sweeps up his broken pieces, wipes the mess of tears and snot off his face, and drives to Robin’s house.

“Steve, oh my god.” Robin pulls him into a hug the second she opens the door and sees the look on his face. Steve clings to her. “What happened?” 

“Eddie’s awake,” he mutters dismally. 

“Oh! Not the tone I’d expect you to deliver that news in, but okay.” Robin pulls back, looking at him with narrow-eyed concern and confusion as she analyzes his puffy eyes and red nose and swollen lips. “And you look like you’ve just been crying because…?”

“Because he doesn’t remember me, Rob,” Steve sighs. “He doesn’t remember anything from the past 11 months.” 

Robin’s eyes go wide now. “Shit,” she says, so plainly it startles a short laugh out of Steve. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Shit.” 

She asks him more questions as she walks down the hallway so they can talk in her room. Steve once again reiterates what was said at the hospital. 

“So you didn’t tell him you two were a thing?” Robin asks, closing her door behind them. 

“Of course I didn’t.” Steve flops back onto her bed. “I didn’t want to spook him.” 

She sits beside him. “You didn’t want to spook him,” she repeats, looking down at him with raised eyebrows, “but you told him about Vecna.” 

“Well, yeah. I just-” He lifts his arms to gesture vaguely into the air as he tries to explain himself. “I mean, imagine how you would feel if you woke up in a hospital and some random guy you’ve spoken to maybe twice was by your bedside telling you you’ve been in a relationship with him for the past 9 months.” 

“Uh, I don’t know, dingus, probably about the same as I’d feel if said guy told me I’d nearly died fighting some evil twisted creature from a hell dimension,” Robin retorts.

Steve drops his hands onto his chest with a huff, shaking his head. “No, trust me. He seemed far less surprised by that than he did to hear that we were even just friends,” he says, a bit bitterly. Tears are pricking at his eyes again as he looks up at his best friend. “You didn’t see the way he looked at me, Robin. All he saw was King Steve.”

Robin softens, snark replaced with sympathy. “That sucks, Steve. I’m so sorry.” 

Steve sighs in agreement that yes this really fucking sucks. He sits up and scoots back so that he’s slumped against the wall, hitting the back of his head against it. “I think I’m a horrible person,” he admits, just venting now, “because of course I’m glad Eddie’s alive and all I really want is for him to be okay, and I know the nurse said he should remember eventually, but there’s still some sick part of me that thinks maybe it would’ve hurt less if he had just died.”

“I don’t think that makes you a horrible person,” Robin assures him as she settles next to him, shoulder to shoulder. “I think you’re just grieving, and grief is weird sometimes.”

“It was one of the worst things I’ve ever felt,” he mutters, “when he looked at me without recognition. To see it on his face, just the- the absence of everything that we’d built. I’ve never felt so- so- I don’t know, it was like I couldn’t breathe. He just- he doesn’t know that I love him. He…he doesn’t know that he loved me...” 

Because that’s what it is, isn’t it? It’s not that he’s lost someone that he loves, it’s that he’s lost someone who loves him. Because Eddie’s not gone, just his love for Steve is, and that’s what’s tearing him apart. It’s the fact that there’s one less person in the world who loves him. It’s the fact that Steve’s got this big gaping hole inside of him that’s always made him so desperate to be loved, liked, wanted, needed; and his biggest fucking fear is becoming obsolete. He could probably trace it back to his parents, the first to forget him, the first to stop loving him, but the fact remains that now Eddie has fulfilled that fear too. Now Eddie has carved that pit a little deeper, a little darker, validating the voice that whispers within it and tells Steve that he is forgettable, unlovable, so easy to abandon and erase. 

“Well, I love you,” Robin tells him, like she can read his mind (which, at this point, she probably can). She slides an arm around his shoulders, hugs him close. “And I’m not going anywhere.” 

Fragile as he is right now, Steve falls apart again in her arms, and she holds him together. Because she knows him, because she loves him.

It’s a quieter cry this time, soft and sniffly. Whereas the last one wracked through his body and left him fatigued, this one flows from him almost gently, and when his tears finally subside and he lifts his head from where it had been buried in his friend’s shoulder, Steve actually feels a little bit better, a little bit stronger. Which is good, because he’s gonna have to face Eddie again soon. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly as he pulls away from Robin, wiping at his eyes and glancing at the clock on her nightstand. It’s definitely been an hour by now, probably more. He stands. “I have to go, I promised the kids I’d take them to see Eddie.” 

“Then I’m coming too.” Robin stands with him. “For moral support.” 

Steve gives her a grateful smile. “I love you so fucking much, you know that?” 

“Yeah.” She grins at him. “I know.” 

~ 

The nurses have changed his bandages and upped his morphine, so Eddie’s considerably hazy now but at least he can raise his headrest and prop himself up a bit without nearly blacking out from pain. He’s boredly flicking through channels on the shitty TV in front of him, alone since Wayne had to leave for work, when Harrington returns followed by a very unexpected group consisting of Robin Buckley and four strange children. 

“Sorry,” Harrington announces their presence with an apologetic shrug, “I know you don’t know them anymore, but they insisted.” 

“Eddie!” a pudgy, curly-haired kid shouts before Eddie can even react, coming barrelling towards him and trying to hug him. 

“Ow!” Eddie yelps, pain flaring even through the extra morphine. “Fucking Christ, kid! Be careful!” 

The kid jumps back immediately, eyes wide. “Shit. Sorry.” 

“S’fine,” Eddie grumbles.

The kid looks at him expectantly for a moment before seeming to realize, “Oh, right, you don’t remember me. I’m Dustin.” 

“Ah, so you’re the guy I sacrificed myself for,” Eddie mutters, and Dustin looks a little sheepish. That means these must be ‘the kids’ Harrington had been talking about earlier. He surveys the group for a second. “Actually, I think we have met before,” he tells Dustin. “And you too.” He glances at a pale, dark-haired kid. The other two - a Black boy with a flat-top and a younger Black girl - look less familiar, though. “There was this, uh, open day thing at the high school for next year’s incoming freshmen; I talked to you about Hellfire.”

“Yeah!” Dustin’s whole face lights up, so bright and infectious it makes Eddie grin too. “Yeah, you did!” 

“So you guys joined the club, then?” 

This sparks a very animated conversation about D&D, the rest of the kids (Mike, Lucas, and Erica, as they soon reintroduce themselves) gathering around his bed now too to join in. It makes him feel a bit more like himself again, familiar, normal. Except, of course, for the fact that they’re not only talking about how they defeated Vecna in Eddie’s “totally epic” and “sadistic” campaign (adjectives courtesy of Dustin and Mike respectively), but also filling in more pieces of the story of how they defeated him in real life too. Still, it’s nice, fun. He totally understands how he could’ve gotten attached to these kids.

At some point, Eddie glances over to find Harrington hanging back and just watching them talk, fondly, wistfully. Robin whispers something to him and he sort of smiles, just a trace, and whispers something back. They seem close, intimate. Eddie wonders if they’re dating, and then he wonders why that thought makes him feel a bit sick. He waves them over. Harrington looks like he’s about to protest, but Robin gives him a Look and he allows her to grab his hand and drag him to join the crowd around Eddie’s bed. 

“So, what’s your deal, Buckley?” Eddie asks her. He doesn’t know her very well, they’ve only crossed paths a few times in the bandroom, but right now that makes her the most familiar person in the room to him. “Are you and Harrington a thing now? Is that how you’re involved in all this?” 

Robin wrinkles her nose and drops Harrington’s hand. “Ew, no. Definitely not.” 

“She’s my best friend,” Harrington says. 

Eddie snorts, doesn’t know why he finds that so comical. (He’s starting to get tired and it’s making him loopy. Or maybe it’s just the morphine.) “You've got a funny choice of friends nowadays, don’t you? Me and band geek Buckley and a bunch of nerdy freshmen.” He looks at Harrington with incredulous amusement. “Who would've thought, huh? Steve Harrington, collector of geeks and freaks.” 

Harrington doesn’t seem to find it as funny. He shrugs. “Yeah, well, it’s better than King Steve, collector of asshole bullies and shallow one-night stands.” 

“Yeah, ‘course it is,” Eddie agrees through another huff of laughter that breaks off into a yawn. “Didn’t mean it as a bad thing, Stevie. Was a compliment.” 

“Alright.” The barest hint of a smile flickers across Harrington’s face now, but then he’s looking away and corralling the kids and saying, “We should head out, let you get some rest.” 

And Eddie kind of wishes he’d stay.

(part three!)

taglist: @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy (only tagged people who explicitly asked to be tagged; if you would like to be added or removed from this list please lmk!)

[liveontelevision]

I beg of u pls more slowburn luci... I'm starved... No one writes him as well as you💔 I'll give you my kidneys 💔

THIS ONES FOR YOU BB

Did it Hurt? Lucifer x Reader

enjoy some quick fluff >:)

♡♡♡

Lucifer always had a habit of losing his temper. It wasn't often, usually when a specific document was giving him a hard time or when he would return from any meeting that took place at Heaven's Embassy. Or, with the relocation of his quarters, whenever a certain radio demon would push his buttons just a bit too much. You've seen it enough times to know when to leave him be and when to step in, but you hated to admit how familiar you became with him in this state.

It was a lot of work keeping up with the hotel after its renovation, and Lucifer did everything in his power to keep the hotel running behind the scenes, so Charlie could focus on her new residents. Being his assistant for so many years, even following him to work at the hotel, you were absolutely delighted to see him so passionate to work, obviously motivated by his rekindled relationship with his daughter. But with the whole redemption premise, it meant a lot more contact with Heaven, and that drained his battery more than anything you've seen.

You hated to compare, but it almost reminded you of his depressive episodes after Lillith disappeared. He walked the halls in a daze, putting on the brightest smile only around the other hotel staff, but you knew him too well to be fooled by his lovely grin.

Throw some drinks into the mix? You'd witness a truly gruesome sight.

It was almost evening when Lucifer realized he actually had caught up to his work and had the chance to enjoy his night. His first thought, no matter how much he'd deny it, was to find you. It was always easier to enjoy his rest and relaxation when you were around. Something about you just left that affect on him. It'd drive him crazy if he thought about it too long.

You found yourself in the newly renovated lobby, still decorated with a bar that exentuated both Lucifer's and Alastor's aesethetic. It was one of the few things they had compromised on.

Lucifer insisted you stop work for the night, but you only agreed after thoroughly skimming over his documents to see if there was anything that would keep him up too long. After finally being swayed, you give him a quick pat on his arm and wished him a good night, assuming he would take the oppurtunity to sleep through his newfound free time.

With a satisifed sigh, you slammed your empty cup on the bar's counter, shouting for another. There was a loud roar of cheers coming from everyone around you as Husk refilled your glass. You lost count after the first hour or so, your head beginning to spin before you could consider the consequences. Soft Jazz music was playing from a small radio, hidden from view, and the entire hotel staff was bustling and chatting as if it wasn't nearly midnight on an average night in Hell.

You had heard something particularly ridiculous from Angel that sent you into a laughing fit. Nearly falling from your barstool, you felt a sturdy hand brace the small of your back. Startled by the sensation, you whip your head around a little too quickly, leaving you dizzy and blinking before focusing in on Alastor keeping you upright.

"Careful, my dear! I enjoy the festivities as much as the next depraved sinner, but we can't have the king's secretary hurting themselves now, can we?" His words seemed rude, but he managed to say them with a charm that prevented you from truly questioning it. It didn't stop you from mumbling under your breath, "i'm not his secretary.. asshole deer demon - " You managed to say it quiet enough that he didn't react, but you did catch his ear twitching and turning torwards you for a second. You quickly resumed some random conversation with Charlie or Vaggie, you couldn't remember its contents if you were asked about it today, but it was better than dealing with the repercussions of insulting the radio demon.

It went back to being chummy and pleasant for a moment before you saw Charlie peering past your shoulder, an excited gasp escaping her lips.

"Dad! Come drink with us!" Charlie leaned back from her barstool, Vaggie bracing her drunken sweetheart from falling flat on her face. You quickly turn, dizzying yourself again, before seeing Lucifer making a hasty decent down the stairs. His hair was freshly quaffed, and he wore a clean white dress shirt, that smelled of a sweet cologne when he walked past you. He had that twinkle in his eyes that would appear whenever he was in Charlie's presence. You loved seeing his eyes that way. They'd shine no matter how heavy the bags under them were.

"Of course, kiddo! Your old man's got the night off if you'd believe it! Pour me a.. uh... something strong!" He puffed his chest out proudly, happy to spend some much needed time around demons in a casual setting. He propped himself against the counter between you and Charlie. When you finally caught up to his words, your eyes widened slightly, giving him a gentle tap on his shoulder. Lucifer turned to look at you, and you caught him speechless for a moment. Your cheeks were red and hot, your eyes dazed and a bit watery from laughing too hard, but still reading concerned for some reason. He's seen you in loungewear before, but you were barely put together in this state. Your hair was sprawled across your shoulders, a few strands blocking your eyes. You wore sweatpants that loosely hung from your waist, revealing your middrift that was visible from underneath your cropped t-shirt that bagged off your shoulders. After snapping back to reality, Lucifer let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding in.

"Yes, yes, dear, here I am. Hope you've been having fun - but not too much! Fun.. Aha... what-what is it, what do you need..?" He stumbled over his words, attempting to be charming but failing miserably. A staticky chuckle responded to his words before you could get out what you wanted to say. "Poetry, your highness. True poetry~" Lucifer hated to look away from you but did so anyway to send a red eyed glare to Alastor, who sat across the bar. He scoffed before scooping his freshly poured drink into his clawed hand and taking a quick swig, slamming it back down. He coughed for a moment, hitting his chest with a balled up fist before sending Husk a teary-eyed thumbs up. "Smooth.. Another..!" He squeaked out. You resorted to taking a soft grip on his forearm after he got too distracted to hear you out before.

"Sir, be careful! We both know you can't hold your liquor.. just - be careful." You spoke in a hushed tone, far closer to his ear than you intended to be, but personal space became foggy in your drunken state. He shivered, feeling your breath against the side of his face, then quickly turned his head up to hide the red creeping across his cheeks. Clearing his throat and picking up his refilled glass, he let out a pompous laugh.

"Thanks for worrying about me, but i'm fine! I'm the king of Hell! I can handle my.. whiskey?" He turned to Husk with a confused look on his face, only to get a confirmation on his drink. He sent a charasmatic smirk in your direction after getting a thumbs up from the bartender. You couldn't help but giggle, covering your mouth to not embarrass him or yourself. He always eased your nerves like this.

What a dork.

You smiled to yourself for a moment before feeling a hand brush the hair that laid across your eyeline out of the way and tucking it away behind your ear. You looked up, fluttering your eyelashes as your eyes focused in on the figure. You turned red seeing Alastor brushing his claws across your hair to keep it away from your face. Without proper judgement, you cringed at the suddenly intimate interaction and jolted away from his clawed hands.

"Now, now, I'm only trying to help! You look an absolute mess, darling." You shrunk at Alastor's words. He still spoke charmingly, but it was clear he had a few drinks as well. You let out a nervous chuckle, running your hands through your own hair and crossing your arms over your exposed middrift.

Lucifer's seen you stick up for yourself before. You were as passionate as he was in that sense. So seeing you almost curled up into a ball at Alastor's words, that were spoken closer to your face than he'd ever want to see, made him growl. "Keep your distant, buddy, maybe you should call it night. If you know what's good for you, that is." Lucifer's confidence only grew with the alcohol finally hitting him. He laid his arm across your shoulder, slightly leaning you away from the demon that towered over the two of you. Alastor found a weakspot and knew exactly what to do with it.

The chatting went on for another hour or two. After Lucifer was calmed down by Charlie and yourself, you all managed to have a decent time until demons started heading back to their rooms one by one. Lucifer was going on a rant about some bullshit documents that Heaven sent and how he'll have to set an appointment to go to the embassy soon, while you propped your head on your hand and only half listened. It wasn't because you were disinterested, you were just coming off your high. You still weren't sober enough to warn Lucifer that he probably had one drink too many, but that was a problem for later.

"Why not send your little servant to deal with Heaven, hmm? I've seem them dealing with plenty of your problems, i'm sure another burden won't hurt, wouldn't you agree?" A wave of radio static washed over your body as you felt large hands fully encase your shoulders. Alastor's claws were cold against your skin, your shoulders exposed by the drooping of the oversized shirt you wore. When he was drunk, his little quips seemed much more personal.

You let out a sarcastic laugh, carefully pulling your torso away from his grip." Ha ha ha. I'm fine, Alastor. I can handle myself, even against Heaven. If i have to, I could totally deal with an angel!" You bragged, maybe the confidence of alcohol made you respond, maybe something else.

"How about you? Think you can handle an angel, Al?" Lucifer added to your words, his arms across his chest. Alastor's eye twitched, his clawed fingers digging into his dress shirt where he was nearly killed this past extermination. The static in the air crackled louder for a moment, before Alastor spun you around to face him. His hands were planted firmly on either side of the chair, caging you in uncomfortably.

"Oh rest assured, sweetheart, I'm fully capable. If you ever need.. protection.. on one of your little errands, do let me know, hm? Maybe you'll need a gentleman to accompany - " He slowly moved in closer to you, until your could barely hold yourself up, your breath hitching as you lost the strength to handle his exessive teasing. Lucifer ripped on of Alastor's hands away, before pulling you from your seat and holding onto your arms to brace you from the quick movement.

"Back the fuck off, bitch." Lucifer's eyes were glowing a familiar red, his teeth snarling at Alastor, who was standing with a playful glint in his eyes.

"Oh dear, did I make a mistake? Is someone a bit protective? Best not lose this one, your higness!"

Damn, that's cruel, you thought, wincing at his words.

You hadn't even confessed any feelings, not that they were clear to you. You considered being in some sort of romantic relationship with Lucifer as your still not entirely sober mind wandered from the frightening moment.

Before you could realize, you were tossed to the side, stumbling onto the carpetted floor with a light thud. Your vision returned to see a fully demonized Lucifer, gripping Alastor's collar as he yelled out some profanities, puffs of flames leaving his mouth as he spoke. You were completely shocked to see how Alastor stood there with a grin on his face. Like he was enjoying it. You quickly stood to your feet, the adrenaline coursing through your veins being more than enojgh to sober you up.

"Sir! Stop!" You reached out and grabbed Lucifer's sleeve, only to be nudged off a bit forcefully. He definitely wasn't using his full strength to keep you away. This was one of the moments you would step out, Lucifer was always impossible to calm down in this state and the alcohol surely made it worse. He lifted his flame engulfed fist, ready to drive it directly into Alastor's shit eating grin.

"Lucifer!" You finally shouted. He paused, slowly releasing Alastor's shirt and stepping away. He scoffed and didn't even snap his fingers, yet a portal appeared behind him. You could see from the outside that it led to his office.

"You're not worth the trouble anyway, fucker." A final puff of fire left his lips as he stepped through his portal that instantly vanished. It left you alone with Alastor in the lobby, the collar of his shirt and a few of his hairs lightly cinched.

"What the fuck is your problem?? Stay away from me! And him? Leave him alone! Damnit, he doesn't deserve this..!" You huffed, making your way up the stairs. Alastor stood alone, his stature still unphased. His eyes shook and he finally let out a shakey breath once you were out of view.

●○●○●

You recognized where to find him and quickly made your way up to his tower. Sure, it stung that he would just leave you after causing such a scene, but that still didn't stop you from worrying about him.

You opened the office door slowly, peaking in to see an empty office. You stepped in and scanned the area, no sign of the king of Hell. You noticed a soft flicker of light coming from the window and went towards that direction. The large windows of the office opened up, one in particular leading to a small balcony that displayed the Pride Ring as a bustling landscape of city lights.

You let out a soft breath, taking in the view before finally seeing Lucifer sitting on the railing, his hands holding him up. The flickering that led you towards him was the flame that sat at the crown of his head, his demon form still intact. You knew it took him awhile to calm down, but you rarely got the chance to see his powerful features this close. His tail was hung over the railing, swaying like how a cats' would. His wings were fully sprawled out, only moving with his breath and his horns, a vivid red at the tips, tore through his scalp, breaking up the purity of his white flesh. The flame that sat between them was much smaller than before and his eyes were still red, but you could see his yellow irises looking down at the city. His shirt had torn from the back, you assumed with how fast the situation at the bar escalated he didnt properly consider the physical damage he'd cause. In this vision of raw power, just the sight of the back of his neck and shoulder blades peaking from his torn shirt was what made your blush.

He turned his eyes towards you, then looked back to the city, adjusting his wings so you could have some space to stand near him. At least he was welcoming you in. You carefully stepped over the ledge, bracing yourself on the railing as you got a full view of the city. The wind left a much needed cool touch to your face, making you let out a soft sigh. You propped yourself up on your elbows, bending at the hips slightly.

"You know, considering how terrible the people are down there, the city really is beautiful. From a distance." You spoke softly, testing the waters; seeing if he simply needed a distraction from the outburst." Actually, it looks pretty similar to a city on Earth. Not as busy and a lot less bloodshed, but still similar. I've never been, but this is pretty close to the pictures i've seen." You described. Sometimes the mention of Earth was good for him to hear too, so you gave that a shot as well.

"They used to be white. Sometimes in the sunlight, you could even see some gold flecks in there." He finally spoke, his voice hoarse. He stretched out his wings slightly, motioning that those were what he was referring to. You twisted around to fully face his wing that had outstretched in your direction. "They were really beautiful."

"I'n sure they were, sir. Do you like flying? I saw you doing it when you were fighting Adam, you seemed really fast." You spoke softly, deciding not to argue the fact that they were still beautiful in this state. He didn't need to debate right now. "May I?" You let your hand hover just above his feathers, the wind occasionally blowing them into your touch. He nodded, even if he was exhuasted, he still seemed anxious at the idea. You carefully trailed your fingers in the direction of the feathers, now a blood red. They were still unbelievably soft and they essentailly leaned into your touch, as you traced the spine of each feather mindlessly.

Clearing his throat and letting himself calm down from the touch, he did his best to respond." I-I used to. In Eden, I would.. mm... I had to patrol and catalog Adam and - well... any progress or changes.." he stammered out his words, occasionally stopping to let out a quiet hum." I just don't see the point anymore. Plus, it's probably not the safest bet." He let his head fall back for a moment, his wings slowly but surely pulling you towards him.

"What about your tail? And.. your horns? Those only appeared after you.. erm... after you arrived in Hell, right?" You moved on to the lower wing that was closest to you. There were some loose feathers that were sticking in all sorts of direction, so you carefully wiggled those out and continued to comb through the large span of feathers, running your nails along the very top with slight pressure. "Hng.. right, yeah. Those are newer." Was the only response he managed to get out.

"The horns.. did it hurt?" You were almost scared to ask, the idea of horns sprouting through your head and breaking your skin on multiple occasions made you shiver.

You continued to groom his wings as he responded. "T-The first time, yeah. But now, not so much. Or maybe i'm just.. I'm just used to it.. Mmh!" He winced mid sentence, his wings curling in with a jolt. You felt his tail rope itself around your wrist and hold it in place. "Oookay! That was n-nice.. thank you, but- yeahh.. Ahha.. that's enough of that." He chuckled nervously, and you looked over at him after not doing so for awhile. His face was flushed red and his chest was heaving. You couldnt tell if he was hurting or.. "Oh! Sorry! I didn't mean to.. Sorry..." you weren't exactly sure what you were apolgizing for, but considering the possiblities made you turn red.

"Nono, it's fine. It was nice, I promise." He managed to compose himself, but left his tail around your arm loosly. "But, uh, yeah! Yup! Horns are new, Tails' new. The fire's definitely an interesting choice, can't get rid of that even if i tried. And trust me, I tried." He went on, leaning back on the railing and letting his wings tuck in, but still left them in view. You let your head fall to your shoulder, cocking your eyebrow. "Get rid of it? Why? Doesn't it go away on its own?"

"After awhile yeah. But here I am, in a situation where I definitely don't need to use any of this shit - I-I don't know what it's for other than intimidation, but I still can't get it to go away on command. After all this time.. The vodka probably doesn't help either." He huffed, clearly frustrated at his physical appearance. You had taken to fiddling with the tip of his tail as he spoke. You did it much more softly, and it didn't seem as sensitive, so he didn't comment on it. But he still had a red hue across his cheeks and his tail twitched every now and then at certain touches.

You let out a quiet giggle, "It was Whiskey, but yeah i'm sure that didn't help either." You clarified in a teasing sense, then fell comfortably into a silence for a moment. You could just barely hear cars honking, gunshots and music when neither of you spoke.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, it definitely does the job. You left Alastor shaking in his boots back there." You said with a smile, turning your head to meet his eyes. They were still mostly red, but you could see them softening just at the sight of you.

"Good! He deserves it. Sweetheart, if that prick ever does anything - "

"Don't worry, he won't. You know he only picks on me to get under your skin." You walked your fingers up his arm before seeing his fist clench at the sensation.

"I-I suppose.. I- Uhm... What are you doing..?" He started to sound nervous, but didnt pull away from you. You stopped what you were doing, realizing one hand was sitting on his thigh and the other was making its way up his arm. You yelped and pulled your hands back, placing them on your cheeks just to gauge the heat immiting from your skin.

"I-I don't know! Sorry! M-maybe i'm still drunk..! Yeah, that has to be it.." you stammered, a blushing mess. The sound of his soft chuckle was quick to ease your nerves." Maybe.. it's curiousity... Do you- not to sound weird, say no if i'm wrong - but.. you can- ahh.. touch my horns, too.. if you want - " He wasn't trying to be crude, you could tell he really just wanted to calm you down. Or maybe he just wanted to be touched. You nod your head slowly, keeping your eyes locked on his.

He shifts his positioning to face you, and leans his head down a bit. Taking each of your hands into his own, which were a bit shaky , he pulls them up to meet his intimidatingly tall horns. You basically shut your eyes in anticipation, only opening them back up when you get a good feel. They were smooth, like the surface of a violin, but they felt heavy. You wondered if they felt heavy to him. You carefully menuvered your hands around the fire that was nearly the size of a matches flame at this point, sliding up to the tips. They were ridiculously sharp. It made you more anxious than anything else, they couldve pricked your finger if you werent being careful enough.

"Remind me to remind you how sharp these are. You'll poke someones eye out if you're not careful. Unless that's what you're aiming for, then go for it." You tried speaking to him as you did this to break the intimate silence of the moment.

He let out a nervous laugh. From his view, he could see most of your stomach, more visible than before due to your reach. You actually felt a particularly heavy breath reach your middrift, making you tense up for a moment. Still, lucifer was careful to keep still after the comment on his sharp horns.

You made your way down to where they met his temples, hesitating for a moment before feeling the skin that was stretched over the bone-like features. It felt like scarred flesh. Your felt your heart drop in your chest at the sensation. When he said it hurt the first time.. the horns must've physically ripped through his skin. Without thinking, your hands trailed down to cup his cheeks, making him lift up his head with a questionable expression." So? Did you get your fill?" He asked, a stupid smirk dancing across his face. You scoffed, taking the moment to look into his red eyes. They almost hid the tiredness of his usual colors.

You noticed his eyelids begin to droop and before you knew it, your lips had brushed together in a tender kiss. You pulled him in closer, your hands still planted on his cheeks. He wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you up to sit on the railings beside him, never breaking contact during the process. He was careful with you, even as you parted your lips to invite a heavier kiss, he held his shut. You pulled away for a moment, moving your hand to his lower lip and just lightly brushing your thumb across it. His breath became heavy at the delicate touch, his grip around your waist falling onto your hips. You left your thumb on his lip and took the opportunity to slide your tongue slowly into his mouth. He yelped, his eyes suddenly shot open at the boldness of your actions. His suddenly limp hands, almost clawing at your hips. His forked tongue eventually made his way into your mouth, still with caution. You felt the fork in his tongue and smiled into his lips, enjoying this new discovery a little too much. He melted into your touch and followed your movements, barely having the strength to keep his head up on his own. You reveled in the moment, before feeling a sharp prick on the tip of your tongue. You pulled away, giving you both a much needed break to breathe.

You run your tongue across the top of your mouth, the smallest taste of blood hitting you."Oh! Fangs!" You quickly exclaimed, the realization hitting you before you could form a real sentence. He stared at you almost dumbfounded, not sure how to respond.

Once you had both composed yourself enough, you noticed that all of his demonics features had retreated, leaving just his wings sprawled out. He let out a satsified hum as you looked into regularly colored yellow and red eyes. You ran your hair through his hair, that had become messy from the horns, and pulled him into another kiss. Lingering for just a moment, you pulled back and smiled, letting your eyes dart across all he features." You're beautiful, Lucifer~" you hummed, your thumb caressing his cheek. You almost couldn't tell, but he did his best to keep any tears from welling in his eyes.

♡♡♡

I wanna work on my multi-part series after all my exams as a heads to you lovely lil people

[initialchains]

shadow of a heart | luke castellan.

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

summary: luke’s last day at camp and everything that comes with it.

wc: 3.1k

warnings: book spoilers and (shocker) luke being a bit toxic but its all internally

a/n: this is based on cosmic love by florence and the machine !! aka one of my fave songs of all time. sorry ik i disappeared for a while :( i hope this fic is good enough as an apology <33 also i think it is impossible for me to not talk about the stars and sky in a fic …

Luke could swear his heart was about to burst out of his chest. The sound of unclaimed children snoring and the sight of his siblings peacefully sleeping didn’t seem to help him calm down, he ran a hand through his face before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He had to calm down. He couldn’t risk fucking this day up. After all, waking up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and with his heart running a marathon wasn’t the most pleasant way to kick off his last day at camp. His last day ever. 

“Don’t fail, Son of Hermes. Unless you’re a coward,” The Titan’s voice rang in his ears, causing his breathing to come out short and his chest to rise up and down at a fast pace. Luke gasped for air, pressing his free hand against his chest.

His body reacted faster than his brain. His mind blinding him with a fog of fear. Fear of not being strong enough for the Titan Lord. Fear of being too weak to take out the scorpion he currently had hidden under his bunk. Fear of losing his only family. Fear of losing you. 

Luke had to take a second to remember the reasoning behind his actions. Reminding himself to not be scared, because why should he be scared? The gods should be scared, not him. If they hadn’t neglected and abandoned their children he wouldn’t have to do this. How dare they make him feel scared? After everything they’ve done to him, after all his losses, after all the times he had to press his hand against his mouth in the shower to muffle his sobs… why should Luke be scared? 

His heart slowly returned to its normal pace and Luke took advantage of it to throw his bedsheets to the side and step out of his bunk, walking in careful steps towards the door, making sure to skip over the pieces of wood that always creaked under his feet. The six years he spent under the roof of the Hermes Cabin helping him learn the best ways to sneak out without getting caught.

 At least something good came out of it, he thought. 

And even if he got caught, what would the children do? They admired him. He was The Strong and Brave Luke Castellan, the most skilled swordsman in the last three hundred years. The campers would be too intimidated to rat out their counselor. 

The certainty of his dominance over the campers was enough to fuel his last steps and open the door. Luke was greeted with a starry sky and a quiet night, the wood nymphs not humming in their sleep for probably the first time ever. He thought this was fitting. Camp Half-Blood being quiet on his last day. It’s almost as if the Camp was silently begging him not to leave.

Look at us. Look at how quiet it will be. Look at how dark the safe haven of the demigods will become. You’ll take the stars with you when you leave. 

He shook his head, trying to get rid of the loud thoughts he was having. Luke had it all planned out, all he had to do was pack his things and leave. 

No.

All he had to do was pack his things, make sure the Son of Poseidon dies, betray his sweet and brave little sister, betray you.. and leave. 

Stay. Just stay. It won’t be dark if you stay. Don’t take the stars away from your family. 

Luke was sure he was going crazy. He probably has been for a long time but he became certain of it when he gave up everything just to prove his loyalty to The Titan Lord. 

But despite all the rage he had inside him, a part of him wanted to run straight to the Big House and tell Chiron all about his wrongdoings. He wanted to get on his knees and repent for stealing The Master Bolt and The Helm of Darkness. He wanted to cry into your arms and reassure you of all the love he held for you. 

How could a silent camp be so loud at the same time? 

Luke walked to the combat arena and took Backbiter out of its hilt. The weight of it not even coming close to the weight he felt on his shoulders. His hands shook as he stared at the blade, the mix of tempered steel and celestial bronze making him feel sick. A feeling of impending doom settling in his gut.

“It can kill mortals, demigods, and immortal divine beings,” He remembered his master’s words. Luke’s reflection on the blade stared back at him, his scar being more prominent than usual.

Was he cursed? Maybe he was doomed from the moment he was born. 

He was fourteen years old when he stopped believing in salvation. The thought of there being a paradise where he’d end up happy and in peace seemed impossible to him, almost unimaginable. He had been fighting his entire life, not ever knowing peace or unconditional love a day of it. Sure, he assumed his mother loved him before she turned into... whatever she was now. But he stopped believing in the goodness of the world when he packed his bags at just nine years old and ran away from his house. After all, that’s what it always was: a house, not ever really a home. 

He was sixteen when he found his home. After two years of grieving Thalia’s death and sobbing silently in the showers—not ever daring to let Annabeth see him as weak, he found his home. He met you. Someone who would listen when he’d ramble about his mother’s homemade sandwiches and cookies, the ones he always claimed were “Kinda bad and didn’t miss at all,” never forgetting to mention that his mentally unstable mother is probably so far gone by now and probably doesn’t even remember the recipe. 

Luke twirled the sword with his right hand, trying to get comfortable with the newfound weight. He stared at Backbiter, noticing how it even made him feel scared, the darkness it held made him want to sneak into the Forge and melt it down. 

He tried to calm himself down by remembering one of the thousand times he shared stories about his mother while you silently listened. 

“I mean it, she thought those sandwiches were the peak of cuisine and yeah, I was nine so I guess it probably was, but... really? She could’ve done so much better. I suppose I can’t blame her for it, I would be a mediocre parent if someone like Hermes was co-parenting with me,” He explained while playing with your hair, his slender fingers moving in a delicate way while he kept his eyes on the campers risking their lives as they flew higher than they should with their pegasi. 

You didn’t miss the way he laced his tone with disgust when he said his father’s name, but you knew better than to reprimand him for it. “Beckendorf is totally going to fall off that damned horse,” You chose the safe answer, changing the direction of the conversation to something more lighthearted. 

Luke snorted next to you before poking your side with his free hand, “You’ve been in this camp for three years and you’re still calling them horses? Gods, what would Zeus say?” You could hear his smile even though he tried to mask it in his faux angry statement. 

“What would Zeus say? I’m sure you would love to know, Castellan. You should ask him in two weeks,” You replied, turning your head to the left to face him and poking him in the chest. You took notice of Luke rolling his eyes when you reminded him of the most dreaded time of the year: The annual winter solstice visit to Mount Olympus. 

“Don’t tempt me, angel. I’ll even tell him my sweet girlfriend was the one who ordered me to ask him about it,” He said, before leaning closer to you and pressing a soft kiss against your forehead, his hand moving from your hair to your jaw, caressing it in the tender way he always did. 

“Alright, alright. I get it, you win.” 

A bright smile made its way to Luke’s face, “Just another day on the job.”

“Just another day of you being a huge—” Your statement was interrupted by a loud thud and the sound of campers screaming, begging for a medic. The two of you were quick to stand up and run to the stables just to be greeted with the sight of a group of campers surrounding a clearly injured Charlie Beckendorf. 

“Fuck, Beckendorf. I’ll go check if there is a free spot in the infirmary for you but you need to be more careful when you play around with that horse.” You turned around, trying to ignore how worried you felt for your Son-of-Hephaestus friend, ready to sprint all the way to the Apollo Cabin. 

You were a few feet away from the stables when you heard a yell coming from behind you, “It’s a Pegasus, baby!”

You screamed back a “Shut the fuck up, Castellan!” and tried to ignore the wide eyes you got from the younger campers who heard the not so pleasant word come out of your mouth. 

Luke didn’t know how long he spent in the combat arena trying to get comfortable with the weight and darkness Backbiter had, but the sun was out and shining its bright rays down on Camp Half-Blood by the time he finally got tired. He panted and closed his eyes as he felt a wave of exhaustion take all over his body. 

He just didn’t know if he was exhausted from training or exhausted from keeping secrets from you. 

“Don’t get mad but that new sword looks kinda..” Your voice had him snapping his eyes open, the sight of you walking towards him making his body feel lighter. Luke felt so relieved to see you that he considered dropping down to his knees and breaking down crying over the weight he was carrying. If he hadn’t been in a public space he might as well have done it.

“It looks kinda?” He answered, running the back of his hand through his forehead, trying to get rid of the sweat trickling down from his hair.

“Kinda shit,” You continued. “I think the sword being double edged is cool but it’s stupid to have that. When would we ever maim a mortal? The tempered steel is useless.” 

Luke gave you a small smile before looking away from you. When would we ever maim a mortal? You’d be surprised, he thought. He looked up again to meet your eyes, a frown taking over your features. Luke’s heart sank when he saw your worried demeanor. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You whispered, walking closer to him and cupping his cheeks, running your thumb under his scar before leaning closer to him and kissing it. 

Luke hummed at the sensation, he always felt less ashamed of himself and his actions whenever you kissed his scar or caressed it. He didn’t understand why but he liked having the knowledge of someone not seeing the scar as proof of his blatant failure, he liked knowing you saw the scar as another beautiful part of him—a part you loved. 

He turned his head to the left, kissing the palm of your hand and replying with a low, “Don’t worry about it. You know how I always get when it’s the last day of Camp for the summer campers.” 

It wasn’t a complete lie. Luke always felt sick whenever this day arrived because he knew half of the campers he met this year wouldn’t be coming back. They’d be lucky if they even survived all the way to December. 

“No, Castellan. I will worry about it. If it’s important to you then it is important to me,” you answered, matching his low tone as you stared into his eyes, feeling captivated by the light they held inside of them. You were sure a star fell straight into them and that’s why they always reflected light and love.

Luke sighed and took your hand that was cupping his cheek, intertwining it with his.  “Fuck, I’m going to miss you so much,” he whispered, almost as if he was talking to himself. 

“You do know I’ll come back to camp for Christmas, right? Plus, we can Iris Message whenever you want. You don’t have to miss me, Luke,” you reminded him. Luke almost keeled over and vomited at the knowledge of you thinking you’ll see him again in Camp. 

“I always miss you, angel. I’m even missing you right now,” Luke answered, leaning down to steal a quick kiss just to be stopped by a hand pressed to his chest. “What the fuck?”

“You’re sweaty as shit, Castellan. Go take a shower and maybe I’ll let you kiss me when you’re done.” That was enough motivation for Luke to mutter an annoyed “Fine,” and walk to the showers. 

Luke spent more time under the showerhead than usual. It was his last day at camp, he reminded himself. He deserved to take a long cold shower without the worry of Mr. D getting mad at him for “Wasting the cold water on just himself.” He could use all the water he wanted because he was never going to step a foot inside this place ever again. 

Plus, he could use this alone time to think. Think about the finality today will bring. An end to his years at camp. An end to his loyalty to the gods. An end to his bond with Annabeth. An end to his relationship with you.

That’s probably what scares him the most–the thought of you deciding to go against him. He doesn't know if he should let you know about the things that were bound to happen tonight or if he should just keep you in the dark. 

Two frightening options: Bringing you to the light and showing his true self to you or keeping you in the shadows.. never fully knowing how broken and rotten he truly is. 

He tried to not think about the second option for too long. Because even if you did find out and he went through with Kronos’s plan causing the sky to remain starless forever, he knew you would choose to stay in the shadows for him. He trusted you and knew you would rather stay in the darkness than go against him.

The rest of his day went by faster than he wanted. He sparred with a few campers, got used to Backbiter’s weight by fighting some training dummies in the combat arena, spent time with his siblings, and sat next to you in the dining pavilion. It all seemed like a normal day at Camp Half-Blood. 

Well, at least that’s how it felt until Percy Jackson came back from his visit to Mount Olympus. 

The campers celebrated his return by lighting up fireworks and cheering his name every two seconds. It all made Luke feel sick. Why didn’t he get treated like that when he came back from his quest? All he got was a scar, looks of pity, and dead quest companions.

 No heroic welcome and no fireworks. Just burnt shrouds, mourners, and a feeling of self-loathing taking all over him. 

“Hey,” your voice made him drag his gaze away from the green fireworks lighting up the night sky. He turned his head to the right, meeting your eyes and raising a brow.

“I am pretty sure you owe me a kiss,” he said in a playful tone, taking notice of how the light of the fireworks illuminated your face just right, making the light look like a halo around you. 

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe it is impossible for there to be no light and for the sky to be starless. There will always be light as long as your heart is beating and your eyes are set on him.  

“Huh, do I? I don’t think I do,” you replied, biting your lip trying to prevent a smile from taking over your face. 

“Oh, shut up,” Luke answered, finally taking your face in his hands and kissing you. He almost fell to his knees at the feeling of your lips moving against his. The kiss was like a comet’s trail, leaving behind luminous particles of Luke’s hidden secrets and unspoken desires. 

You pulled away first, trying to catch your breath as you kept your eyes closed and your forehead pressed against his. “What’s wrong?” you whispered, asking him the same question you did in the morning.

“Why do you ask?” Luke answered in between pants, his breathing uneven due to the intensity of the kiss you shared. 

“You were.. somewhere else when I walked here. Lost inside your pretty little mind,” you explained. Luke hummed when he heard your answer. 

“I just,” he sighed, pulling his forehead away from yours by raising his head. “What would you–” he cut himself off. “Never mind.”

“No, it’s fine. I want to hear it.” 

“What would you do if you woke up one day and the earth was consumed by darkness? And I mean complete darkness, no sun and no stars.” 

“Holy shit. Did you hang out with the Apollo and Athena cabin?” you held back an amused laugh.

“Just humor me for a second, please.”

“Alright, um..” you looked down, trying to formulate an answer to Luke’s strangely philosophical question. “I guess I wouldn’t mind as long as I could find you. I know I’d be able to find my way to you so I wouldn’t really worry too much.”

And that answer was everything Luke ever needed. 

He spent some more time talking to you, memorizing the way you looked under the lights of the amphitheater in your Camp shirt and necklace. Trying to enjoy it because he will never have this sight again. 

Luke excused himself with an “I have a gift for Percy, but I’ll come back to you. Just give me some time,” before walking all the way to the cabins and taking out the Pit Scorpion he had hidden under his bunk. 

There was no fear in his actions this time. His heart was beating in a steady rhythm and his hands weren't shaking anymore. The weight of Backbiter in its hilt felt perfect against his hip. 

There would be no fear in any of his actions anymore. Because he knows if he keeps you in the shadows you’ll eventually become a dark starless sky just like him.

[edensown]

BE KIND TO ME. ; perfect landing —

note ★ a little something to get me out there while i continue designing my account . an introduction to what my blog will mainly focus on : human readers ;)

cw ★ reader grew up religious, mostly second person point of view.

in which a human falls so low that their lord can no longer hear them; so they have to make do with what they have.

if there was any sound familiar to you , it was the kyrie.

"kyrie eleison," a cantor sang at every mass; lord have mercy. sang to remind people the steadfast love of God, to remind them of His mercy. it is also, indirectly or not, a plead. you've always thought of it as one; a plead to ensure that when push comes to shove, and death comes above to collect you— it is peaceful. you're not angry, or sad, you're just... at peace. that's what you've always wished for yourself, atleast. that's what you've always wished for during the kyrie.

"kyrie eleison," they sang, you closed your eyes.

"christé eleison," they sang, you swayed to the tone.

"kyrie eleison." they sang, and you wished.

lord, be merciful. lord, be kind to me.

all you remember is falling.

falling down, and down, and down— past the soils of the earth and each their layers, past the searing innercore, likely, because you felt yourself burning. whether the fire was burning inside of you, or just burning you, you don't know. you brace yourself. your breath is ragged. you're laced with sweat, rubble, and you reek of fear.

lord, be merciful. lord, be kind to me.

you wish again, but you don't know if the lord can hear you from so low.

you land.

it is not on rough terrain, thankfully, but it's not on soft terrain either. you're confident you're supposed to be dead right now, that was a painfully hard landing. you recoil, taking a fetal position as you groan in absolute agony because what in the world did you just land on?! your vision is blurry, and black splots take up half your vision—lord, be merciful. lord, be kind to me, lord, please; you beg incessantly.

you look at what you landed on.

recently waxed tiles...?

this is outrageous.

the demon prince stolas sat across you. the height difference was astronomical— you had been taught not to lie, under any circumstances, not even this one. the height difference was astronomical and astronomically attractive. you glance around, surveying your surroundings (his legitimate palace) and trying not to lose your mind because out of all the places you could've landed on, why did you, a human, have to land in hell?

he found you in a fetal position, comatose & dirtying his immaculate floors with your humanity. from afar, he thought you were an abandoned nestling, a little owlet discarded by its mother. he pitied you, mercy filling him (not really his favorite thing to be filled with, however anyone who saw you and had atleast a bit of heart left would be able to empathize) in a rush as he took ahold of your small body in his hands.

he dropped you as soon as he held you, feathers puffing up as he stiffened. your body fell with a thump. in stolas's mind, there was but one thing:

what the fuck did blitzø do?

"blitzø ! you're going to get me in deep, deep shit because of this — who are you to think that sending a human to my palace would be a good idea ? do you know how many employees I have?! they—"

"woah, woah, woah ! calm the fuck down , stolas , I didn't fuckin' do nothing alright ? I don't know why the fuck a human somehow landed on your balcony — but hey ! atleast your tiles aren't broken from the impact of their fall ! seriously though . I don't know what the hell you're talking about ."

"then who?!—" stolas groaned. "you know what ? nevermind. fine. just send the book over and I'll send them back home." he resolved, planning to end your time here as soon as possible, so that when you do arrive in hell next time, you arrive the way you're meant to. it would be an easy fix, after all. an outlandish situation, but nonetheless easy.

"i cannot send you back to earth." were the first words stolas told you. you didn't know whether or not you were hallucinating, considering there is no way a tall, skinny owl would be able to talk. nor were you supposed to be any where but earth; that is, until you arrived to heaven. like you were meant to. right. right?

no.

he can't even send you back to earth. a demon prince with a grimoire capable of sending demons to earth, where they don't belong, can't seem to send a human back to their home. that is so messed up, that is so crazy, you are about to cry. you don't even know his name , but you know his features. you know his capabilities, not through your own knowledge however— because he was kind enough to tell you himself. would he be kind enough to shelter you? or would that be below him?

"prince stolas..." you start, he cocks his head to your direction. "you say your grimoire can send hellspawn to earth, why can it not bring humans back to it?" you think aloud, raspy voice still hoarse from screaming the first few minutes you were falling down. he tilts his head, you don't know how else to describe his body expression but ... owl-like. "you are curious, I suppose all humans are. the answer is simple: you're resisting the spell." he told you. your eyes bulged.

no way would you reject a spell to get you outta here.

"it's not you that's rejecting it, really," he hears your thoughts now! can he hear thoughts? is that what demon princes can do? "it's you, but its more something in you. as if you're meant to do something here." his tone is still even. "I will admit, what I will offer is uncharacteristically risky of me— but i cant help but pity you. so, I will offer you my hospitality." he sipped tea as your jaw dropped—tears threatening to pour as you felt your lips quiver at even the mere thought of your situation.

"I know it's scary, infact i do not favor this situation myself, but you will be taken care of, and under the protection of a goetia— you're secure." he assured, trying to appear less Intimidating as you shivered in absolute horror. there was never a scripture in the Bible about this, not that you know of— you don't know anything.

you didn't know how popular you'd be here.

you didn't know what they had in store for you, either.

you didn't know anything.

lord, be merciful. lord, be kind to me.

— @edensown

[metalomagnetic]

Any chance you can share an excerpt of the Harry/Sirius fic you have planned? 🥺

“That’s teenage years for you, kid; you’re always angry.”

Harry frowns. “You think that’s all there is to it?”

“Sure. I was that way, too.”

“Was?” Harry asks, and he’s finally smiling. A tiny thing, frail, but it’s a smile. “Seems like you’re still going through your teenage years, then.”

“Cheeky bastard.” Sirius swats him over the head, playfully.

The frail smile turns into a grin. There’s a mischievous side to Harry, buried deep under the trauma, the burden of being the Boy Who Lived.

Harry reaches for the bottle again. “Gross,” he shudders, making a face after he swallows. “Does it get better? The taste?”

“Eventually,” Sirius says, opening a second bottle, now that he relinquished the first to Harry. “You get used to it.”

He got Regulus drunk in this very room some twenty years before.

His mother sighs in his head. She sounds resigned.

“How about those?” Harry nods at the pack of cigarettes Mundungus snuggled in for Sirius. “Will you teach me?”

“Not much to teach,” Sirius says, giving Harry a fag, taking one for himself.

He lights them with his wand and tells Harry to breathe the smoke in.

Predictably, he chokes.

“Being a bad boy isn’t easy, Harry,” Sirius mocks.

“It’s disgusting,” Harry wheezes, still choking, but when he calms he tries again, to the same result.

By the time he finishes, Harry grows even paler, says he’s a bit dizzy.

How innocent he is; how young. Sirius remembers the first time he smoked, that dizziness Harry speaks of.

He was thirteen, and life was good, even if it didn’t feel like it. Now he wishes he could go back to those times.

Would you abandon us again? If you could go back, would you still betray us? the voices demand.

“I’ll teach you to ride a bike,” Sirius promises. “Next summer. I’ll buy one. Miss riding, anyway.”

“Drinking, smoking, riding bikes, moping around in corners, being angry- what else is on the requirement list for being a bad boy?”

“I don’t mope around,” Sirius argues. “And never in corners. I brood in full view of everyone.”

Harry laughs. It might be the whiskey, but there’s some colour returning to his face. He almost looks alive.

He’ll die, eventually. Everyone around you dies, brother.

Regulus was always a spoilsport.

“Alright, alright. Brooding, then. What else?”

“Fucking,” Sirius says, just to embarrass him, and it works like a charm. Harry goes red, instantly. “Can’t be a bad boy if you don’t fuck around.”

Harry looks away. He runs his fingers through his hair again, making it stick out more than usual. It still doesn’t remind him of James.

When James did it, there was intention behind it. He liked his hair like that, and he knew some girls liked it, too.

When Harry does it, there’s nothing intentional about it. It screams of insecurity, something that wasn’t in James’ vocabulary.

“Well,” Harry says, so red he’s turning purple. “You’ll have to teach me how to do that, too.”

A warning rings in Sirius’ head.

Don’t poke at it, his mother advises him. Leave it be, Sirius.

Sirius never listened to her, so he won’t start now.

“You know girls that won’t mind your godfather joining you for a bit of fun?” Sirius teases. “Why, Harry, you’re already running with a bad crowd in that case.” Harry snorts, gulps more whiskey. “I barely know any girls at all,” he mumbles. “But I’m sure no girl would say no to you; it’s more likely they’ll protest to me, really.”

“First lesson,” Sirius says. “No self-depreciating jokes. No poor-me attitude. No one finds that attractive.”

“Well, that’s who I am,” Harry snaps, that temper of his rearing its head for a second.

“Even so, you hide that shit if you want to pull birds. Pretend you’re confident, even when you aren’t.”

“That’s wrong, though. Misleading someone, lying-”

“Bad boys lie all the time.”

Harry huffs. He slumps back into the couch. “Forget it. I can’t be a bad boy.”

“It’s not for everyone,” Sirius agrees. “Plus, if you want to be really bad, you’d need to do some prison time. Not worth it, I assure you.”

“Being locked up in a cupboard doesn’t count?” Harry asks. “Did about ten years of that.”

[ghcstao3]

marine biologist au :)

-

Soap almost misses the call from Price one unsuspecting three AM, but he wakes up in the nick of time.

He barely has his eyes open to press answer, squinting into darkness as he mumbles out some greeting before waiting to learn why in the world Price is calling him at this time.

“They’ve finally hatched,” Price tells him. And before the cogs in Soap’s head can start turning, Price clarifies, “The turtles, Soap. They’re finally out. Get your arse out here.”

It’s such an announcement that kicks Soap’s brain into a hard reboot, and suddenly he’s flying out of bed and running for his car keys, barely caring that he’s still in his pyjamas as he speeds down the road at this godawful hour. He doesn’t remember when Price or he had hung up, just knows he needs to get to the beach, and now.

The team had had their eyes on a particular bale of sea turtles since they’d laid their eggs, and had waited for so long for the hatching with continuous efforts to make sure all would go perfectly undisturbed. He couldn’t afford to miss this.

And it seems, arriving to the spot, that other scientists had a similar idea. That, or Price had called them, too.

Soap finds the man with just a bit of difficulty between the silhouettes of the small group standing a ways from little black specks crawling through the sand. He claps Price on the shoulder, whispering his excitement as his eyes adjust to the bright moonlight.

“Incredible,” Soap murmurs. He hasn’t felt wonder like this in ages, even if this isn’t the first time he’s witnessed such an event.

There’s just something so special about it.

“I’ll say,” Price whispers back, that same wistfulness.

Except… it’s not Price. Still tall and wide shoulders and rough voice, but… decidedly not Price.

Soap nearly jumps back, recoiling when he realizes he’s been hanging off a stranger’s shoulder in lieu of an old colleague’s. The stranger seems to realize the mistake without ever taking his eyes off the baby turtles, laughing quietly under his breath.

“I’m so sorry,” Soap says. “I thought—“

“Thought I was someone else?” The stranger replies, not unkindly. He angles his head just enough for Soap to catch the outline of his face in the silver glow of moonlight. “I think I can forgive you. We’re all half-asleep, anyway.”

Soap can feel a blush raging across his face, thankful for the cover of night to hide its tint. Even so, he ducks his head as the stranger goes back to watching the hatchlings. Soap takes the opportunity to do the same, though putting some distance between himself and the man, this time.

Eventually, though, their shared silence feels like too much with the hushed chattering of others surrounding them. Soap taps the man lightly on the shoulder and says, “My name’s John.”

“Simon,” Soap is told.

The quiet feels more comfortable, after that. And as time goes on and more and turtles make it out to sea, the other voices seem to die down as well.

It’s not until everyone is certain all of the hatchlings have made it that the group of scientists begin talking again, still quiet, but now above a whisper. Simon finally fully turns to face Soap, who thinks he may be experiencing his second bought of wonder that night, seeing Simon’s face in the dim light.

“It was nice meeting you.” Soap smiles softly up at Simon. “Do you think we’ll see each other again?”

Simon nods, shoving his hands in his pockets. Once glance tells Soap that he’d been rudely awakened as well, and somehow he finds comfort in it.

“I’m sure we will,” Simon says. “Especially since Price is in both our circles. You should probably go find him, by the way. Since—“

Soap groans, burying his face in his hands. “Please don’t remind me. I’m sorry again.”

Soap peeks through his fingers just as Simon grins at him, something almost bashful. “Don’t be. I liked your company. Have a good night, Johnny.”

Johnny.

Soap’s ears burn as Simon walks away. He sort of wishes a crater would open up in the sand and swallow him whole.

He should go find Price.

But… in a moment. Soap can reminisce on his brief encounter with Simon for just a few seconds longer.

[cherrycoloredfaith]

BEAUTIFUL artwork for Kiss Off by my beautiful friend Ashley!!! she's so talented and beautiful thank you SO MUCH for being a part of this @ash-yuh

Kiss Off

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 5

Chapter 4

He left the bar first and set off down the road alone, getting to his car in a matter of minutes. He didn’t know where he was going, just that he needed to breathe again. Driving aimlessly for nearly twenty minutes he realized he was leaving the city, going to the only other place he knew: Munson Construction. The storm clouds in his head that had vanished at the bar returned on the drive. The roads were dark, but the air was clearer out here, and Steve couldn’t get enough of it. The wind wrecked his hair, whipping it around as he took deep breaths. Steve wondered if he should just book it to Hawkins and give up on all this. Wondered if he was ever really meant to leave his hometown. Wondered if he really messed up and should have just married that girl from high school. 

Parking in that same red dirt parking lot, he didn’t ask himself what he was doing because there was no point. He was going to wait it out, stay out of Robin’s hair and give her no reason to worry. Getting out of his car, he headed towards the front to lean on the hood and look out into the surrounding woods that reminded him of home. Except you could see right through them to the street lights beyond the thin cluster of trees. If he was in Hawkins, he could have looked out on a number of lakes within a few miles. Perfectly hidden and perfectly alone. Even out here, he could still hear distant cars from the busy highways, pulling him out of his reveries.

Steve wished he had a pack of cigarettes. Smoking never really tempted Steve until moments like these, where he was alone, searching for some sense of peace.  Pausing, he remembered the key to the clubhouse sitting in his pocket.

Maybe Eddie had some in his locker or office somewhere? Would it hurt to take just one?

Steve tossed his keys in the air, caught them, and thought once again, fuck it, they gave him a key anyway, right?

A single light illuminated the steps going up to the door, the screen door slamming against Steve’s back as he bent to unlock the deadbolt. Once inside, he felt along the wall for a light switch and failed. 

In the dark, his outstretched arms led his way around to the lockers, trying to use what little light came from outside the doorway. The red hard hat was the second locker from the right if his memory served him correctly, so once his hands made contact with the wall of open shelves, he started to rummage. He felt a small, soft cardboard box in the back of the highest shelf, thought, yes, and fumbled to open it in the dark. Just one. 

Steve heard a creak of the floor and his head snapped up, trying to adjust his eyes to the dark hallway beyond that led to Eddie’s office. Nothing but pitch black.

Suddenly, a yell rang out–no, more like a battle cry. The lights came on in a flash, giving Steve just enough time to register the baseball bat swinging for his head. He cowered down, covering his face with his arms as he shut his eyes tight, preparing for the blow. 

When none came, Steve peaked out of one eye at the scene before him. There stood Eddie, in Garfield pajama pants, bat still raised high, and hair coming out of its bindings–a look of utter confusion cast upon his face. 

“Whoa, dude, what the fuck?” Steve exclaimed once he’d found his voice. Is this guy going to kill me?

“Me, what the fuck? No, you, what the fuck?!” Eddie retorted, not moving to lower the bat. He looked from Steve’s face to his hands where he still clung to the pack of smokes. “Did you come all the way out here for those? I could have told you where to get your own. Jesus fucking Christ.”

“No, Eddie, God, I was just–” Steve realized he didn’t have a good explanation for this situation other than the truth. “Look, my roommate needed me out of the apartment for a bit, I was just driving around, looking for somewhere to go and I ended up here.” He shrugged. “And I wanted something to do. What are you doing here?” Steve was pointedly not looking at Eddie’s silly pajama pants. The last thing he needed was to be punched by his boss for laughing at his sleepwear.

“Shit, well, no fucking point now,” Eddie sighed and rested the bat on his shoulder. “I live here, asshole.” 

Steve didn’t know what to say to that, so he picked the first question that popped into his head. “Oh. So… do you normally go to sleep at 10:30 on Friday nights?”

Shutting his eyes, Eddie finally dropped the bat to his side, and Steve could breathe again. When he opened them again, he glared at Steve. “For your information, I was watching a goddamn movie.”

It finally clicked. “Why didn’t you say you lived here before? I thought that was your office,” said Steve, looking towards the dark hallway.

“Because not everyone knows. It was supposed to be a temporary thing, I just didn’t want to stay with Wayne anymore, and it was convenient. I pay him rent, but it’s nothing like what the city would cost me.” He looked defensive. 

Steve just nodded, unsure of what to make of it all. Before he knew it, Eddie had walked back into his office–bedroom– and then returned with one shoe on his foot, the other in his hand, his bat nowhere to be seen. He hopped down the hallway trying to pull the other sneaker on.

“Alright,” said Eddie when he succeeded. “Come on, then.”

Steve didn’t move as he passed by, wafting a soft, sweet scent from his clothes. “Huh?”

“You need to waste some time, let’s waste it.” He was leading Steve through a door he hadn’t noticed before leading out of the kitchen. He grabbed a tin lunchbox as they headed outside. Steve followed as if on autopilot onto a surprisingly cozy, covered back porch, fit with a table, chairs, and even a couch and coffee table that made up for the missing furniture inside. It looked homey. 

Eddie set the box down to plug in some string lights that provided enough illumination for them to see one another. They sat on opposite sides of the couch; once Steve saw Eddie prop up his feet, he did, too, hoping to give any semblance of a relaxed state–when, really, his heart was hammering in his chest. 

When Eddie opened the lunchbox in his lap, Steve immediately got a whiff of what was inside, and he prayed a silent thank you to whatever fates led him here. Eddie looked over at Steve with a grin. “You seemed like you’d need something stronger than those.”

That was the second time Steve forgot about the cigarettes clutched in his palm; he decided to set them down and nod as a sign of his gratitude. 

Then, Eddie started to roll his own joint as if he’d done this a million times. Steve even saw that he had proper rolling papers. He watched him with fascination while Eddie focused on his task. No words were spoken between them, but something about the silence felt comfortable. No, not comfortable, but… anticipating.  Steve stared in awe at how relaxed he was, delicately licking the edge of the paper to hold it closed. Eddie’s hair was almost completely out of the low bun it was in and long strands dangled down, creating a curtain around his eyes. Steve had the urge to brush it aside.

“How’s the sunburn?” Eddie asked. 

“The what?” Steve blinked out of his trance. His heart was pounding. 

“Dude, you’ve got to snap out of it. Did I scare you that bad?” Eddie leaned in, searching Steve’s eyes for something.

“No, no, I’m fine, I swear. Thank you.” What was he thanking him for? Steve was screaming at himself on the inside, begging him to regain his cool. “I’m so sorry–for barging in like this. I can go, you don’t have to let me stay.”

“I know, Steve. It’s cool. To be honest it gets… a little lonely living out here, not being in the city. Your presence is welcomed, for now.” He shot Steve another smile and began to light the end of the joint. Steve starts to wonder if Eddie has already done this once tonight based on his low, honeyed voice, the slightest glaze over his eyes. 

“Where’s Wayne’s?” wondered Steve.

“Closest suburb to the east of here. Not ten minutes down the road when there’s no traffic. I just needed some space to learn how to take care of myself, but still save some money.” He took a drag. “And to smoke without worrying about Mrs. Wheeler next door calling the cops,” he added, chuckling devilishly low as if it was something that actually happened. 

Steve took the pass, inhaling deeply, trying to hide his little coughs. “What movie?” he asked as he stretched his arm back out for Eddie to take the joint from his hands.

Eddie looked over and laughed. “Can you speak more than two words at a time?”

Steve rolled his eyes and snatched his hand back, moving it out of Eddie’s grasp to take another hit. “Fine, fine! I mean, what movie were you watching before I broke into your house?”

“Technically you didn’t break in, you have a key.”

Steve flushed. “That’s another thing to get back to. Are you avoiding the question?”

“Never. I was watching Back to the Future 2,” he said matter-of-factly, chin held high as he took back the joint, fingers brushing Steve’s, sending a shiver up his arm. “Arguably, the superior of the two films. With triple the Michael Fox. ” Eddie looked up at the lights dreamily. 

“Dude, what? You’re lying to me. The original is so much–wait, what?” he asked, caught off guard by Eddie’s last words.

He laughed, “Kidding, Harrington! So far, the original one reigns supreme.” He winked, but his gaze didn’t linger. “That was actually going to be my first time seeing it until…” he gestured to the two of them sitting on the couch. 

The confusion Steve was experiencing at Eddie’s implications caused him to flush again. “Oh,” was all he said in response. Maybe he should ask him if he’s into guys. “So why give out keys to literally your home? Does everyone have them?” Steve screamed at himself in his head. 

“Usually I don’t have to worry about anyone I work with thinking anything valuable is inside. Tonight I was sorely mistaken. And no, not everyone has one, but anyone needs to be able to get in, so…” Eddie shrugged. “It’s worked out for me so far. I keep my room locked too during the day, so don’t get any ideas.” He smiled.

Steve decided not to ask why he received one after his first day, and instead decided to change the subject. “My roommate wouldn’t really have kicked me out herself, but I knew she’d want the place since she was the only one getting lucky tonight.” Oh, God. Why did he have to bring that up?

“Ahhhh, are we in love with said ‘roommate’? Here on a feel-sorry-for-yourself evening escapade?” Eddie tilted his head to the side, peering at Steve through lidded eyes. 

“No. Seriously, it’s not like that. She’s my best friend. We went to this place downtown… near Pennsylvania Avenue,” Steve was cautious with his words, but he couldn’t help it. He had to know. “I forgot the name. Do you know any bars over there?”

Eddie met Steve’s eyes, but his were unreadable. “Yeah, I know of one. Did they play a lot of dream pop?”

“Yes!” Steve exclaimed, trying not to sound too overly excited that Eddie picked up on a similar detail as him. And appeared to have visited the same bar as him. This probably meant he was cool, but he still couldn’t tell anything about him. He should just ask. “Yes, that one. Red door?”

Eddie nodded, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Tell me more about her. Your roommate.”

Steve got lost in talking about his best friend for a moment. He was familiar with giving the usual exposition of how they met working at an ice cream parlor but had gone to school together for years. They were inseparable ever since, up until she graduated and decided to go to college, which Steve hadn’t got in. He was so grateful she was close by, but he always felt that he couldn’t follow. When Robin’s scholarship finally let her live off campus, Steve was elated to come join her somewhere new. 

“So, she’s the whole reason why you're here?” Eddie asked. 

“Kind of. She’s who really got me out of my hometown,” replied Steve, shrugging.

“Hmm, sounds like you might be in love with her…” Eddie repeated. “Why else would you want to move just to work such a shit job with such a shit boss?” He gestured to himself, topped with a sickly sweet smile. 

“Seriously, dude, that ship has sailed. Or never even made it in the water. Or doesn’t even exist. I don’t–I don’t see her like that,” Steve answered, not sure if Eddie could pick up on what he meant. The weed was starting to cause his thoughts to swim around in his head. “This was the only job I got called back for.”

“Oh,” said Eddie. The joint had sat forgotten between his fingers as they spoke. Now, Eddie lit it once more, taking a drag. Instead of turning his head to blow the smoke away from Steve like he had before, he leaned in, locked eyes with him; he blinked slowly as he directed his exhale at Steve’s face in a powerful gust. Steve groaned, made a face and put up his hands, pretending to be bothered by it while his stomach did somersaults; he had to fight to not stare at his lips. “Guess Wayne was desperate, huh?” Eddie kidded.

“Hah, yeah, I guess so,” Steve nervously laughed to shake himself out of the trance Eddie put him in. He knew Eddie was reasonably joking, but it wasn’t far from what Steve suspected was the truth. But speaking the words out into the world of his failures didn’t hurt as much with the weed in his system. It didn’t feel so much his own fault as it was the nature of the outside world. Life outside a small town. Simple truths you learn as you age. Finding a job is hard, being gay is dangerous, etc. 

A quiet silence fell over them as they finished those last puffs of the joint. It was comfortable, but Steve couldn’t help but feel the absence of the words between them. It was nearing midnight according to Eddie’s digital watch on his wrist. Was it really just hours before Steve overheard Eddie complaining about him? Saying he was going to “ruin everything”? 

Steve jostled at the memory, the same concerns from before settling in. He had to ask. 

“Eddie… What happened last summer?” Steve urged. 

Their eyes met again. When did they get so close? Steve could see the expanses of Eddie’s brown eyes. They suddenly darkened, and it was as if Steve was being pulled forward ever so slightly. 

Then, Eddie pulled his legs back, leaned forward, and propped his elbows on his knees, putting distance between them as if nothing had happened. He looked out to the darkness of the woods ahead.

“Nothing that actually concerns you. I’m sorry you heard me yell,” he revealed, defeated and ashamed. “This guy on my crew last year, he caused a lot of problems. Didn’t treat Max well either.”

Steve’s stomach flipped again; so Eddie was referring to him with that outburst. Steve wasn’t sure what this last guy had to do with him. He hadn’t caused any problems like that, right? He barely remembered what he did that day.  Steve paused, taking in the information; he had that same feeling again, that there was more to be said about his guy, but before he could pry further, Eddie interrupted. 

“Anyways, you might want to be heading back before it gets too late. You good to drive? I don’t have anywhere for you to crash,” asked Eddie. 

Taken aback, Steve nodded, feeling dismissed. They stood to walk inside; Steve paused to assess how high he was only to find he was hardly buzzed. He was surprised, certain that he felt so much more a second ago.

Steve couldn’t tell what Eddie was thinking as his face was blank when they walked along a dirt path in the trailer to the front door. Eddie held it open for him as Steve tried to think of something to say.

“Thanks! For hanging out I mean, and the smoke.” Steve hoped he was successful at attempting to sound casual. In return, Eddie gave a familiar grin, nodding once and shutting the door behind him without another word.

Steve stood there for a moment, wondering why bringing up this guy set Eddie off so badly. He wished he could have stayed for longer, but it was getting late. Sighing, Steve brushed off his nerves and walked towards his car to head home. 

As Steve drove that evening, despite abruptly being sent home, he couldn't help but to be hopeful. Steve could drop the whole last summer issue if Eddie could. He imagined himself enjoying himself at work, making Eddie laugh, making him proud. Becoming his friend. Really learning how to do the work. He smiled to himself as he walked up to his apartment. He didn’t even feel so lonely when giggling drifted up from under Robin’s door. Steve went to bed in his new room finally feeling a little at peace. He fell asleep to the image of Eddie’s smile behind his eyes. 

[stellari-s]

Haiii! I saw your request were open, can I request a childhood friend!Ithaqua x gn reader that had been searching for him after his mother's death? Thank u so muchh if you were ok to doing thisss :'>

💐

hi, anon! i tried to put a (hopefully) nice spin on it. so, i hope you enjoy 🥺

request; yes, by anon! requests are (semi) open, but there is a queue and requests may take a while.

wc; 1 105.

tags; childhood friend! ithaqua x gn! reader, a bit of angst, ithaqua doesn’t actually show up, but he’s there, fluffy memories, could be platonic or romantic.

summary; in loving memory of the victim — your friend’s mother — of an unknown incident, you put flowers in front of that house every year. and… it appears you are not the only one who remembers.

“ah, (y/n)! it’s so good to see you — i was expecting you, in fact.”

with a small ring of a bell, you were welcomed with a hearty voice from within the store. the moment you stepped in, the fragrance of various flowers intermingled together, tickling your nose to the point you had to pause where you were at just to adjust.

you didn’t normally go to flower shops, even though you routinely visited it once a year, so you had never truly gotten used to its thick scent.

“when it comes to the smell, the only thing that makes me dizzier is the scent of perfumes,” you muttered.

if the owner of the shop heard you, she made no such signs. it was as though you had said nothing at all as she smiled. “well? do you want the usual bouquet?”

the usual…

just how long had it been, for the bouquet you asked for to become ‘the usual’? how long had it been, for the owner to remember exactly what you ask for, despite visiting merely once a year?

“yes.” you threw her a small nod and a smile. “the usual, please.”

“coming right up!”

you waited around at the entrance, occasionally stealing glances at the other flowers scattered around the shop — on the ground, the tables, and hanging in pots from above.

“have you finally shown interest in some other flowers?”

“whoa!!” your heart felt like it was about to burst from your chest up to your throat as you jumped backward, seeing the owner right before you.

the owner, too, looked shocked. albeit for a different reason. “…am i a ghost to you or something?”

you shook your head quickly. “n-no, just looking around.”

“and? did anything catch your eye?”

“my eye…”

recomposing yourself from the shock with a couple of deep breaths, you looked around. your eyes scanned through all the vividly colorful flowers, but they stopped on a certain batch.

among the flashy colors and large petals, this batch looked quite humble in comparison, and it made your scanning gaze freeze for a second. noticing this, the owner followed the direction of your gaze to the flowers your eyes had fixated on — they were small, five-petaled flowers, a light, almost baby blue in color.

“ah,” the owner nodded as she continued, “those are forget-me-nots. you have good taste in flowers, for those to catch your eye.”

forget-me-nots… the desire not to be forgotten? i didn’t know they were called ‘forget-me-nots.’

even though you were far from a flower connoisseur, looking at them made nostalgia bubble up from the pit of your stomach, pricking your heart like needles.

“guys, come here a minute!”

you two had been playing in the small living room, working on a small puzzle together, but upon hearing the voice outside, you two glanced at each other before bringing yourselves up to your feet and shuffling outside.

there crouched a lady with a smile as warm as the sun, eyes that reminded you of the spring breeze, and long, flowing hair that that carried a gentle, earthy scent every time it danced with the wind.

she raised her arm, gesturing for us to come.

and so, you approached her.

“see, aren’t these cute flowers?”

she pointed to the five-petaled, light blue flower on the ground. it was relatively small, and it must have been hard to spot, but you had always felt the lady before you, your friend’s mother, was quite in tune with the nature around her. she always seemed so… at home.

“what are these called, mama?” your friend tilted his head, his light blue eyes fixed on the small blue flowers.

“they are called—”

“forget-me-nots are commonly given to those you are parting with, maybe for a short time, or maybe for a long time,” the owner explained, “to send a message that you would like for them to remember you, in the good times and the bad. even if the distance is endless, the memory still binds us together.”

you couldn’t help but flash her a teasing smile next to you. “have you thought about becoming a storyteller?”

“well, i was born into a family of florists,” she replied, taking your teasing question seriously, “so, as much as i’ve thought about it, and maybe dreamed of it, i decided to become a florist in the end.”

“i guess it’s something you can’t change, then.”

a lot of things couldn’t be changed because of the whims of fate, perhaps like that incident that stole her — and him — away.

“…i guess so.”

you two exchanged wry smiles, and in the end, you had decided to buy some forget-me-nots along with your usual bouquet.

the house you used to play with Itha at was now abandoned.

the incident that had separated you two largely remained uncovered, as the church had pulled some strings to keep it all under the rug.

perhaps because that made you angry and frustrated, but you still couldn’t let go of the past.

years had passed, but you still couldn’t find your old friend. but, you had heard certain rumors that started popping up ever since the incident happened — that slight change was the only proof such a tragedy had happened.

there is nothing in the woods, but if you venture too deep, a monster in the woods would cut you down.

you approached the dusty house, now like a ruin that contained the distant memory of liveliness. at the door, you placed the bouquet and forget-me-nots together. then, you clasped your hands together and closed your eyes, sending a silent prayer to the skies above.

maybe, it was a sore last-ditch attempt to find him.

then, you left, as silently as you had come.

alone.

the following day, when you decided to take a detour and stop by that house once again (on a whim, perhaps), you couldn’t help but notice something… different.

the bouquet you had left was now gone, leaving even more forget-me-nots in place of where the bouquet was originally laid.

you widened your eyes slightly.

there is nothing in the woods, but if you venture too deep, a monster in the woods would cut you down.

if there was nothing but a monster in the woods, then who could be the one leaving these flowers behind?

you knew the answer already in the back of your mind, but with a single tear tracing your cheek, the name was kept lodged in your throat.

i miss you — i’ve always been searching for you.

we are apart right now, but please, whatever you do and wherever you are, do not forget me.

[aezuria]

*ੈ✎ fall with grace.

╰┈▸ a glimpse into jason's last moments.

╰┈▸ warnings: gore

jason didn't want to die. he realized this too soon, for the decision still dangled before him, life and death on the same side of the same coin. and too late, for the decision was already made for him, the life he could have lived displayed cruelly every time he blinked, in flashes of another, better universe. one where all his friends were really his friends, one where his father had a heart and his mother loved him, one where he wasn't always second best, one where he remembered.

and for a moment, the yearning he felt deep in his heart was enough to spur him forward, his body jerking upright to chase the dream he craved. but dreams were just dreams, jason of all people should have known.

his adrenaline-high came crashing down, tugging him along with it. his knees came crashing down onto the rubble, bruised and bleeding, yet they still managed to hold him up, as if reminding him there were still some things worth fighting for.

jason's hands shook, but his fingers refused to unravel from their tight grip on his sword. his friends, he had to protect his-

the piercing of metal against his skin broke him out of a loyalty-induced rush. he looked down at the bloodied tip, heard the screaming of apollo and piper in the background. it was fatal. the decision has been executed.

he felt his lips move, heard his voice say, "go, remember." do what i couldn't do.

and still, he couldn't swallow the pang of sadness as he watched his friends leave him to die. but it was what he wanted, right? casualties, sacrifices, were normal in the battlefield. he was just another one of them leading up to the greater good.

his arms shook as he pulled himself against the rubble, driving the spear deeper into himself. he bit his cheek to suppress the sound of pain he was sure to make, not wanting to show a hint of weakness even as he was stripped bare of his strength for no one to see.

he laid there, chest heaving as he gasped for air, only to be met with blood spurting back up his throat. pain seared through him, like bugs crawling the lining of his intestines, razor-sharp mandibles breaking through and pouring out in a pool of red. deep shudders of breath racked his body, lungs spasming of their own volition, as if his body yearned to live despite his mind's rationality. every shiver he took only enhanced the feel of the wood splintered through his stomach, only worsened the itching of his insides. and yet he lived, through the agonizing, bare minimum he was always content with, never in his life asking for more. (but just this once, he begged for a god, any god, to just take away his suffering, please?)

he was met with silence, not the blissful sweetness of darkness clouding his vision, but the loud silence of his ragged breathing, the squelch of his gut churning. the gods were cruel beings, after all. yet another reminder that jason was never made to fall with grace.

librarian's annotations: its 1 am and i wrote and this in one sitting and bag of bones is playing and yeah (this is a distraction for the fact that i havent posted a fic in ages) @jgracie @pinkdiorluvr i think u guys like jason angst??

[oftenwantedafton]

the dark of the woods | dave miller x female reader

rating | explicit

part 2/?

words | 3.6k

cw | sexual content

ao3 link

You awaken to sunlight flooding through gaps between curtains hung on windows you don’t recognize.

It takes you several moments to reorient yourself, to remember why you’re sleeping on a mattress that’s too squishy and a pillow that’s too flat. The blanket draped over you is scratchy against your skin and you shove at it, pushing it down to a rumpled gathering at your waist, your hand suddenly freezing when the memories of the previous night—only several hours ago, surely—come flooding back. The campground. The public restrooms. Dave Miller.

You’re still sore, the little pulsing throb between your thighs reminding you of what you’d endured. You’d fully expected him to take advantage again in the shower—Not halfway hoping for that, though, right? Of course not—but he’d merely waited outside the stall, arms folded, leaning back against the wall until you’d finished cleaning yourself up. You hadn’t dawdled long under the spray of water—good pressure, but not nearly enough heat—before drying yourself off and redressing. The forest ranger had actually escorted you back to your cabin, tucking you in as if you were a child before locking the door on his way out.

Your hair is still damp, the pillow beneath your cheek saturated. At least the scent of your shampoo is familiar, a reminder of home. Only one more night and then you’d be heading back there before noon tomorrow. Leaving the campground and its creepy guardian behind.

You hate that he intrudes your thoughts the entire time you’re getting ready that morning in the bathroom, your eyes forever darting to that space at the end of the stalls—Don’t think about it, don’t think about him—brushing your teeth and combing your hair and making sure to steer very clear of that plastic shopping bag with the stained clothing bearing mementos from your indiscretion as you’re returning your toiletries to your bag.

About half of the other campers are up and about already, the remaining visitors apparently still enjoying a bit more time in bed, although you can’t imagine how pleasant that is, given the comfort level of that mattress. Maybe it’s not as noticeable when you’re sharing one of the larger ones with someone else, warm body curled around, his breath warm against your ear…

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

You jump when you hear that smooth voice close to you, not a memory but a real event. Dave straddles the bench of the picnic table you’re sitting at, where you’re several bites into a fried egg and English muffin sandwich, grateful that someone else is on cooking duty, because that’s not your forte. He looks freshly showered, the dark brown locks clean today and tidily slicked back, but several of the drier pieces have already begun tumbling down across his forehead. He samples a bite of his own breakfast sandwich, somehow managing to smirk around that mouthful of food.

You down a quick swallow of orange juice, glancing around to see if anyone’s close by, but per usual, no one is sparing you a second glance. Except Dave, of course.

“You know god damn well I didn’t,” you hiss.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Anything I can do to improve that situation?”

The smug expression on his face infuriates you. “No,” you say tightly through clenched teeth.

“You sure about that?” He leans over to grab your bottle of juice and takes a healthy swallow before setting it back down beside your styrofoam plate.

“Seriously?” You stare at him, exasperated.

“What? It’s not like we haven’t shared saliva before.”

“Dave! You can’t just do that in front of people. Say that,” you add in a low murmur.

“I hardly think we’re the only couple that procreated last evening. This morning. Whatever you consider it to be.”

“We’re not a couple.”

He hums in amusement. “Your friends are going out on the lake today. Are you joining them?”

“Not my friends, just classmates, as I’ve said before, and no. If I was going to do that I’d go out on my own.”

“I’ll accompany you if you like. Rowing gets tiresome.”

“Absolutely not. And aren’t you supposed to be pulling lifeguard duty? What if one of the canoes capsizes?”

He shrugs, shoving the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth. The man ate fast. “Technically no one’s supposed to even be going out on the water this time of year. The season is over. It’s clearly posted.” He points to the placard nailed to the lifeguard chair, just barely visible from where you’re seated.

“So if someone drowns, you don’t even care?”

“You’re being rather dramatic. I expect they’ll start out, get bored, and come back. They’ll never even reach Freddy’s.”

You frown. “What’s that?”

“The children’s restaurant. You know, the one I was telling you all about last night when you were gathered around the campfire.”

“That’s where they’re going? Oh, hell no. No thanks.”

“You’re not the least bit curious?”

“Nope. I’ve seen enough horror movies. You go looking for trouble, you’re going to find it.”

“Sometimes trouble comes to find you, though, right? Sometimes it just follows you right into a public restroom in the middle of the night,” he muses, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, walking a pair of fingers across the table towards you.

“You’re awful.” You down the rest of your juice before Dave can steal any more, then stand up and dump your trash in the nearby barrel.

“You do realize,” he begins, startling you again when you discover him right beside you. The man moved so silently and swiftly, it was uncanny, “that you’re the only one not going on this little lake outing. Which means you’ll be here alone. Well, except for me, of course.”

You begin walking away, leaving behind the campsite. You don’t plan on going too far into the woods, but maybe the older man will finally get the hint. “No problem. I’ll just stay in my cabin after they go. With the door locked.”

“You think I don’t have a key?”

You halt, turning to face the forest ranger. “Look, I’m going to say this very plainly. I’m not interested. Don’t follow me.”

“Your body says otherwise.” He steps closer and you find a tall pine tree at your back.

“There are people right over there. You can’t be serious.”

“I’m not the one who’s ashamed here. It’s not really my problem.”

He reaches out and you flinch, surprised by the gentle trail of his fingertips down your cheek.

“You got what you wanted. Why can’t you just—”

He interrupts you with a kiss, a quick rough brush against your mouth. His skin is smoother today. Fresh shaven. You can still smell the cream he’d lathered with. A second kiss follows. This one lingering. Wetter. His tongue taps the edge of yours and your stomach flutters.

“Dave.” It’s meant to be a reprimand, but it sounds like anything but.

“Come to me later. Once everyone leaves. You might find my lodgings more comfortable than your own.”

“I most certainly will not.”

Another smirk. “As you like. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have duties to attend to.”

You exhale loudly once Dave’s figure retreats, tipping your head back to look up through the branches bearing long pine needles. Maybe you should go on the trip after all. He wouldn’t expect that. It might be nice to wipe that cocky expression off his face.

To consider the other option. To accept his invitation. Well, you’re not quite prepared to do that just yet.

Not ready to admit just how much you’d enjoyed those kisses just now.

***

In the end, you are left behind after all.

You stand on the shore for a few moments, watching the last of the group depart over the lake before you turn and head back towards the cabins. Towards the one labeled twelve. Certainly not three.

You close and lock the door behind you, then sit on the edge of the bed. You’d brought a book to read. Something you’ve already enjoyed, but it’s been awhile, and you’ve forgotten parts of it. Now might be a good time to rediscover the story.

You tuck your legs so that you’re sitting with them folded in front of you, thumbing open the dog eared paperback and uncreasing the corner before you begin reading.

Your eyes flick up from time to time, halfway expecting Dave to be there, lurking outside one of the windows, but the space is undisturbed. He was apparently respecting your boundaries finally.

You read the same paragraph three times, comprehending nothing, then set the book face down beside you and sigh. You’re not in the mood for this. Maybe you should take a walk instead. Just a quick one. Then you can sit by the lake and wait for the first members of the group to surrender and turn back.

Your plan falls apart the second you pass by Dave’s cabin, the man leaning against the doorframe, arms folded. You nearly trip, your mouth suddenly gone dry. Your brain screams at you to keep walking, but your body doesn’t obey. Instead you’re ascending the pair of steps leading to the small porch outside the cabin. The older man straightens, his arms dropping to his sides.

“Change of heart?”

“Fuck you.”

“Yes, that’s what we’ll be doing.”

“Why can’t you ever just…”

“Hmmm?”

“Are you going to move out of my way?”

“So you do intend to visit, then?” He inquires, but steps back to allow you to brush past him, moving into the building’s interior.

It is better furnished; he hadn’t been misleading. His bed is double the size of yours. There’s a television occupying the top of a varnished pine dresser that’s absent in your own rental. Books and board games lining the shelves. Even a mini refrigerator.

“Shit. Are you kidding me?”

“Told you it was nicer. Perks of being in charge.”

You hear the door close and turn to face the older man.

“So what’s it to be this time? My suggestion, if you’d care to hear it, is you sitting on my face and letting me eat that delicious cunt of yours. Then maybe I’ll fuck you missionary style. How does that sound?” Calmly said, as if he’s outlining the itinerary for an outing.

The outing.

“We don’t know when people are coming back. Someone could see…”

“That’s your response to my proposal? Disappointing.” He walks to each window, drawing down vinyl shades that you lack in your cabin. “There. Privacy. Good enough for you, princess?”

“You can be a real jerk, you know that?”

“Never said I wasn’t. But you came to see me, as I recall.”

“You invited me.”

“Touché.” The smile this time isn’t quite as mocking. “You’re wasting precious time with this debate. Unnecessary insults. Stalling, are you? I can’t imagine why. I know you want this.” He eliminates the distance between you, fingers closing over the zipper on your hooded jacket and peeling it down slowly. Unhurried. For all his talk of time wasting, you don’t think he’s really concerned about it, any more than he cares who sees the two of you together.

“Take all of this off for me,” he whispers, his hand skimming just beneath the hem of your tshirt before he kisses you. You can’t stifle the pleased sound that escapes you when his lips touch yours and his tongue invades your mouth. You struggle out of your jacket, still kissing him until you have to stop to pull your shirt and bra overhead. He pops the button of your fly and you take over from there, toeing off your sneakers and shoving the rest of your clothing down. You’ve got a hold on his tie and his hands sit on your hips and then he pushes you back until you feel the bed behind you.

He finally breaks free of your mouth, shoes hastily removed before he’s lying across the bed, grabbing a pillow to shove beneath his head. He beckons you to come to him. You crawl on your hands and knees, hesitating when you reach his torso. He’s still dressed in the ranger uniform.

“Come here. Let me taste that sweet pussy.”

The pulse throbbing between your legs amplifies as you straddle his face, the supine man smoothly maneuvering until he’s got his arms locked around your thighs, fingers pressing down insistently. You lower your crotch to his mouth until his nose digs into your mound, until his tongue swipes across the petals of pink flesh and then taps your clit.

“Fuck…” You throw your head back. You’ve never gotten eaten out in this position. Something about it just intensifies each sensation. The suction and the stabbing inside of you and the slurping and lapping over your clit makes your thighs shake, your fingers sinking into Dave’s hair. He hums, clearly enjoying himself, delighting in how desperate he’s got you, slick and needy rocking right over his lips and tongue. You release is building already, the torrent of pleasure that soon follows making you keen and writhe.

You don’t want to admit that the orgasms he’s given you so far have been the most intense you’ve ever had, but he doesn’t even need that confession to know. It’s written all over his features when you drop down beside him and he drags your mouth back to his. The entire lower half of his face is covered with your arousal.

“You taste so fucking good,” he grates beside your ear. “I could eat you forever. Just make you explode over and over in my tongue. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You moan in agreement, letting yourself be pushed down beneath him, helping him open his pants, assisting in pulling his cock free, finding it hot and hard and ready for that wet flesh he’s just devoured. He nudges one thigh up and leans into you, sliding inside and reminding you of the ache from earlier, stretching anew to accommodate him. The slower cant of his hips gains speed, pummeling your core deep inside once he begins fucking you in earnest. His voice oozes and slithers all around you, a sultry near rasp that’s rougher, more raw than his usual tone as he spews filth while continuing to pump his cock in and out of you.

“Going to breed you, honey. And this time you’re keeping it in. No shower until tomorrow. Just leave all my cum deep inside. Give you more later. Fill that womb right up. I know you love it. All of it. Pretending earlier like you didn’t. Playing hard to get. But you came here, didn’t you? Couldn’t help yourself. You needed that hole filled. Know you’re not going to get better anywhere else. These fucking boys that don’t have a clue about a woman’s body. I know yours, now. That, right there. That little hitch. When you squeeze around me. Push up. Wanting more even though I’m buried to the hilt. You feel me in there, sweetheart? Marking you. Making you mine. Fuck, I’m close. I’m going to cum in you, baby. Cum with me.” He snakes a hand in between your bodies, kneading your clit briefly until it tips you right over the edge, earning another curse and the unmistakable feeling of something hot flooding deep inside of you.

You’re sweating, panting, still pinned beneath the older man until he finally withdraws, tucking tightly against your side, his fingers sliding back down to fuck his leaking sperm back into your pussy. You want to protest when his thumb starts teasing your bud again, thinking you can’t possibly endure another climax so soon, but his kisses and his words and that almost gentle rocking of his hand bring you there once again, tingling and spasming before he finally removes his hand, offering you a taste of your release and his. You suck his fingers lazily, your gaze hooded, too exhausted to manage more, but you see the flash of approval in Dave’s eyes.

“You’re such a good girl,” he murmurs, the praise sounding dangerously affectionate, like the kiss he presses to your bare shoulder, like the hand that now strokes drowsy little circles along your arm. It’s such a sharp contrast from how he was earlier, all of that condescending teasing now melted down, leaving behind this softness, tender and pleasant. You’d imagined he’d be kicking you out of his bed as soon as he’d gotten off, surprising you when he pulls you against him, fitting your bodies together. It’s so confusing. You’re not sure which is the real Dave.

Which one you prefer.

***

Dave’s prediction has proved accurate. No one had actually managed to reach the haunted pizzeria. Everyone has returned.

You’re seated on the same log you’d occupied the evening before, a hamburger drowned in ketchup balancing on your lap. You’re drinking soda with the late afternoon meal this time, determined not to repeat your previous mistakes and wind up in the bathroom again during the night; even tempered with the idea that Dave might follow you inside there for another session, you’d rather not venture out into the cold and the dark with the insects harassing you.

You’d fallen asleep next to him inside his cabin earlier, waking a few hours later to find him gone. You’re a little hurt he hadn’t waited, hadn’t left a note, nothing—but then again, what did you really expect? You’re two strangers hooking up. Never to meet again after tomorrow. That’s a good thing, right?

Someone’s brought out a cornhole board, and you’re watching that game now, beanbags tossed with terrible accuracy by the majority of your classmates, though it doesn’t seem to be affecting their enjoyment of the activity any. You smile softly when one girl manages to score, her little shout of triumph quickly swallowed by a kiss from her boyfriend. He lifts her up and spins her around and your eyes return to your plate.

“Lurking back here again? You should go join them.”

The tall man settles down beside you, offering his own little smile before glancing back at your fellow college students.

You shake your head. “I’m terrible at it.”

“So are they. Doesn’t seem to hinder them any.” He takes a pull from the beer slotted in his hand.

“Are you even allowed to drink? Aren’t you on duty?”

Dave scoffs. “You worry too much. You’re too young to be this solemn. This bitter. The only person keeping you away from that group over there is yourself. You afraid to have fun?” He nudges your arm with his elbow.

“I don’t know how to interact with people. I’m not good at it. It feels awkward.”

“So you keep trying until it doesn’t. Until you get comfortable. You shouldn’t shut yourself away from the world. It’s selfish, honestly. Denying others the privilege of your company.” His eyes flit to your burger, now clutched between your fingers. “Give us a bite of that, yeah?”

“Can’t. Went overboard with the ketchup. It’s too messy—hey!” You protest as he bends and takes a large piece from the side between his teeth, sending a fresh wave of crimson condiment over your knuckles. He clutches your wrist and licks along that red stripe, earning another panicked gasp.

”Relax. No one is paying attention. And even if they were. So what?”

”You’re in an odd mood.”

“I’m in a good mood,” he corrects. “Because I had a very pleasant afternoon with a certain young woman. Who is exerting a tremendous amount of effort in an attempt to deny the fact that she enjoys my company, too.”

“Oh, please. You didn’t even leave me a note. I felt like…”

“Felt like what? You have a bad habit of not finishing your sentences,” he observes, sampling his beer again.

You shake your head, biting your lip.

“Well, if you aren’t going to join the group over there, maybe you want to go off on a little adventure instead. Achieve what they couldn’t earlier. It’s not a long drive to Freddy’s.”

You stare at him open mouthed. “Are you serious? You expect me to go to some haunted murder site at night?”

“I mean, that is the ideal time to visit. It’s not nearly as frightening when the sun’s still up.”

“Knowing my luck, I’ll get caught breaking and entering and spend the rest of the weekend in jail. No thanks.”

“We don’t need to break in. I have a key.”

“You have a key,” you repeat in disbelief. “How? Why?”

“Don’t concern yourself with that. Just trust me. We can enter without any difficulty.”

“If I wanted to. Which I don’t. And aren’t you supposed to be keeping an eye on things here?”

The forest ranger sighs heavily. “This again. Listen. You don’t want to go, that’s fine. You can just stay here and stare wistfully at your classmates.”

“I’m not staring wistfully,” you mutter.

“Come with me,” he urges, his expression softening. “I promise you you’ll enjoy it. There’s an arcade. The building still has power. The animatronics—”

“—If I agree to go with you, and I decide I want out, you’ll take me back? Not give me any grief for it?”

“I might call you chicken,” he teases, then exhales loudly. “Yes, fine, I’ll bring you back if you really find yourself feeling miserable. But you won’t.”

There’s that red flag again. Your brain trying to be rational. This sounds like a really, really bad idea.

You sigh in resignation. “Fine, I’ll go with you.”

Dave grins.

[thoughtfulchaos773]

Seven Fishes and The Timer Part Two

RECAP: The timer will be our guide in this chaotic episode. There's so much packed in and the alarm sounding off loudly is a marker of the important action or dialogue to watch and listen for- the timer is the beat of the screenplay Beats are action and dialogue that are emotional shfts- its what moves the story forward.

Back to it:

6. Merry Fuckin' Christmas, bro TIMER -We're back to Mikey and Carmy, and Carmy saying don't fuck with me right now- it's turning us to another pile-up in Carmy and Mikey's relationship.

CLAIREBEAR! TIMER serves as the anxiety Carmy feels, even when Clairebear is absent from the scenes.

8. Don't fucking touch me! TIME serves the rising anxiety, and this is the longest alarm we've heard thus far.

After this scene Camy walks away and we're given a break from the chaos.

The first time the alarm is absent as we're provided time to witness the connection between Tiffany and Richie.

For a while, we take time to watch the Berzatto's bond, and the timer becomes a background noise until

9."I'm so glad we had this time together." TIMER. Donna's 3rd breakdown - one where she's disorientated and in a panic, the timer tells us we're back in the groove of chaos, and Jimmy reminds us that we only have so much time together, and we enjoyed the small peaceful moments between the family.

A break in the beats- a connection and scene that establishes Mikey and Carmy's good moments together. What's bittersweet about this and Riches's scene is that he and Mikey are holding something back from their loved ones. Instead of being vulnerable, they still hold on to their pain, contributing to their relationships' demise. The timer being absent gives us a few moments to watch a real connection happen

10. Donna breaks a glass- Now we're back to the chaos, and the worst ringing- 3 alarms go off in a short amount of time and add to Donna's rage.

a second time when Natalie offers her help and Donna continues to have a meltdown, threatening to blow her brains out and declares no one would miss her. This is the first real tension we see between Natalie and Donna and it moves the story forward . TIME, it's a marker of what's to come at the dinner table.

12. The timer goes off when Donna calms down a bit. It's giving a break as we go to the hallway to watch Steve check on Natalie.

A break from the timer when there's A moment of connection between Natalie and Steve.

13. The Final Timer- We've heard this story a million times. is a shift to the rising tension between mikey and Uncle le. The timer plays as a bookmark on this strained relationship. Uncle Lee and Mikey are one of the catalyst to the demise of dinner later that evening. They reach a breaking point in their relationship by the end of the episode.

That's it for the timers, it's a guiding post and a bookmark for what's to happen at the dinner table later on.

Analyzing this episode, I'm really amazed at the direction, sound designs, and acting this episode and a background explanation into why timing is a factor Carmy's anxiety. For Marcus and Richie, there's a great relationship with time where it's a philosophy on how to live your purpose. But for carmy, it serves as antagonist of sorts. The only thing that stops his relationship with time is his connection with Sydney. Time is a theme of the show and conveys the different meanings. It's tension. It's a reminder to live life, and when you can forget it, if just for a moment is when time matters most.

I leave with this quote...

I give it to you not that you may remember time, but that you might forget it now and then for a moment and not spend all your breath trying to conquer it.-William Faulkner

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Lmao the mental image of Simon being high and obsessed with Gaz is too good😭I’d love to see where you take it!

I have been looking at this ask at least once a week since GhostGaz Week! Please have a little bit that comes after the prompt: April 23 - date night // “sleep with me”

GhostGaz Week Masterlist

It’s the sun that wakes Simon up. At first, he thinks he forgot to close the curtain, but the light is coming from the wrong direction. He remembers the familiar walk to Soap and Roach’s place after the party, he must have slept over. Then he realizes that the pillow he’s on doesn’t smell like hair gel, the dirt of the rugby field, or lab disinfectant. The body sprawled out over his also isn’t snoring fit to wake the dead, so it’s neither of his team mates.

When he remembers who’s bed he’s in, his eyes fly open and he stops breathing. Kyle’s face is right there, the gentle puffs of his breath ghosting over Simon’s collarbones. The memories from the night cycle back. The way Kyle had leaned in and fed him bites of his own food after stealing some of Simon’s. His hand, warm and strong where it held Simon’s as he’d had a good-natured argument with Soap about something Simon hadn’t cared enough to pay attention to. The way Kyle had reeled him into his room when Simon had offered to sleep on the couch.

Even this early in the morning, his thoughts race and trip over each other. Should he get up? He’ll have to pee soon, and it'd be good to get them both something to eat. Is it rude to root around in the fridge? Sure, he’s helped himself before, but that was as Soap or Roach’s guest, not Kyle’s not-quite-hookup. Maybe he should hit the cafe down the street. But what if Kyle thinks he just up and left and isn't coming back? What if he wakes up alone and gets sad? What if he expects Simon to leave, and then it's weird if Simon comes back? Would it be weird to take his keys to make sure he can get back into the building? What if Kyle's not a breakfast person? What time is it? Is it brunch time? He can't bring Kyle a bagel in bed if its brunch time, brunch is for tables. Roach would judge him.

“I can hear you thinking,” Kyle mutters without opening his eyes. He pets a hand down Simon’s chest in a move that is both soothing and electrifying. “Relax, babe.”

“Sorry,” Simon whispers back. He makes himself unlock, muscle group by muscle group, the way his therapist taught him.

Kyle chuckles when he lets all of the air out of his lungs in a whoosh. Sparkling brown eyes squint up at him. “What was that?”

“Sorry,” Simon says again.

“No, it’s not a complaint,” Kyle says, sitting up on one elbow. Simon tries not to be distracted by the fact that he’s shirtless and half hard against his hip. He hides a yawn in the bend of his elbow before grinning down at Simon again. “Should probably get up. Hungry?”

Simon means to say What do you want to do? Or I could eat. What comes out is “I want to eat you.”

He groans, face going hot as Kyle laughs hard enough to fall back onto his chest. Instead of smothering him to put him out of his misery, Kyle regains his composure and strokes a thumb over his eyebrow. “Maybe later. Breakfast first, hey?”

“Awright,” Simon concedes, and is rewarded with a quick peck to the apple of his cheek before Kyle rolls out of bed. He tries and fails not to stare at the geometric tattoo that snakes down Kyle’s spine before the man pulls on a loose shirt. When Kyle turns back to him with a fond smile, he makes himself sit up and scrubs at his eyes. “Where to?”

Kyle grins. “Soap tells me you like the French toast at that cafe on third.”

Kyle asked Soap about him? Simon’s stomach flutters. Then his bladder reminds him that he’s been awake for more than point five seconds, so it’s time to get up. Kyle mercifully stops looking at him to search for pants, so Simon shuffles out of the room to head to the bathroom.

And comes face to face with Soap’s grinning mug. “G’mornin’, Ghostie. Fancy meetin’ here ‘f all places.”

Kyle’s voice calls through the door. “Leave ‘im alone, Tav! We’re going to breakfast.”

“Aye,” Soap answers. “C’n ah-”

“No,” Simon says, as Kyle declares, “You’re not invited.”

[g0kotta]

Decade

Even after a decade Shoko still loves you.

I don’t think I mentioned any gender here, so Shoko x reader. Angst to fluff. Love me some Shoko. Around 900 words

Her thumb keeps pressing down on a lighter time after time. There’s a spark, but no fire. Her thin hands began to shake as she gets annoyed at the old and cheap lighter she bought at the small shop near Jujutsu Tech. It’s run by an old and nice lady that just wants to continue her family business, but her children have no interest in that. It’s a sad sight, Shoko thinks as she gives up on the lighter and throws it away. Her back rests on the wall behind her, the same way the unlit cigarette sits between her lips. She looks up to the sky and mumbles something under her breath. Life hasn’t been easy lately. She had one too many patients come to her and all she wants is to relax. But the dark circles under her eyes, the ramen boxes in the trash can in her office, the now useless lighter are just a few signs that she doesn’t remember the last time she could do that.

Suddenly there’s a light under her cigarette and without even checking who offered her this lifesaving (how ironic as the cancer sticks are doing something way opposite) spark. She takes in a deep breath and finally feels the smoke fill her lungs. It burns. But in a way it reminds her that shes alive. She’s here. Still breathing. Then she slowly lifts her eyes up to see to who she owes this thanks and her eyes widen.

You stand in front of her. As beautiful as ever. You’ve matured. Your hands are now full of battle scars that tell your story, your face looks sharper, you’re taller and the soft smile on your face makes her heart beat faster. You’re obviously tired. Tired from carrying the world on your shoulders. Tired from being one of the strongest in your clan. Your hand moves away from her face and you put the lighter back in the pocket of your black leather jacket. The wind blows and moves your hair around with its gust. And Shoko thinks that you’ve never looked prettier. People should worship your beauty. Deities would be jealous of how you looked at that second.

Suddenly she thinks about the summer ten years ago. When you were holding her in your hands and whispering sweet nothings into her ear. Promising a fairy tale future where the two would be happy. Together. It was right before you broke her heart, leaving when someone attacked your clan and started a war. They needed you. But selfishly Shoko thinks she needed you more than they did.

“You look good.” You’re the first to break the silence. You grin but the smile doesn’t reach your eyes and Shoko frowns a bit. “How have you been?” Your voice is scratchy. Like you’ve been yelling for a while. And maybe you were. You were always strong physically but mentally you always needed support, which she understood. If she was the one in your shoes she would’ve probably gave up a long time ago.

“Hm.” She hums and looks you up and down, smoke surrounding the both of you and she wishes it could bring you closer to her. “I’ve been okay. Same old.” Shoko’s voice sounds more womanly, you think. It’s mature. It’s the voice of a mother that tells her children tales as old as time. “How are you? It’s been a while.” Ten years, Shoko wanted to scream. It’s been ten years without you.

“As good as a sorcerer could be, I guess.” You laugh slightly.

“Not so sure about that.” Shoko scoffs. “You’re not enjoying your time stuck somewhere in an expensive mansion with millions in your bank.”

“How do you know I’m not?” You tilt your head to the side.

“You wouldn’t be here.”

“I’m here to see you.” Shoko swears her heart stops after you say that. Her lips tremble a bit and she feels like a teenager in love all over again. Crazy how you can just show up and turn her world over. But she can’t let you do that. What if you slip away from her grasp again? Shoko couldn’t live with a second heartbreak. So she just nods her head.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is soft now. “I wish things would’ve been different.” You sigh and look to the side, studying the nature surrounding you both. “I had to leave. My clan needed me. And I knew you deserved someone better. Someone who could actually stay by your side. I didn’t want you to worry about me too much.” You smile at her. “I wanted you to be with someone who could actually promise you their safety. I was living every day questioning my existence.”

“You’re an idiot.” Shoko puffs out the smoke of her cigarette. “An idiot to believe that I would ever love someone as much as I loved you.”

She feels you take her palm into your hands as you now stare into her eyes with so many emotions.

“Then please. Let me make up for all of the years we lost. I know it’s been a decade.. But my love for you always stayed.”

Shoko smiles and the cigarette falls down to the rock path. She steps one step closer to you and your lips touch.

For the first time in ten years Shoko feels alive again.

[mmimagine-40]

Pup pt.2

Alpha!Steve x Omega!Female Reader

Warnings: Talks of mistreatment and abuse

y/n thought it would be a little harder to sleep as she was in a strangers house. An alpha strangers house who was helping to take care of her. But as soon as she leaned back on that soft pillow with the fluffy blanket thrown over her , her eyes fell heavy and she was out in seconds. Even if she was on a couch it was way more comfortable then the hard ground she had been laying on for the last few months. Especially the nice fluffy blanket and pillow. She can’t even remember when the last time was that she even had either. Or the last time she had this well of a rest. Even if her ankle lightly throb and hurt. She was still way more comfortable and got way more rest then she thinks shes ever had in her life. In the morning she was woken with sun lightly shining through the trees and into the window to her eyes and the smell of some food and coffee being made. 

Y/n lightly moaned and groaned as she sat up to stretch a bit. But as she did pain shoot down to her ankle. Reminding her again about the condition of her foot. Steve came running into the room to make sure she was okay from where he was in the kitchen.  “You okay pup?”. “Yeah I’m okay. I just sat up too quickly and hit my ankle.”. Steve nodded as he walked over to her. “Mind if I check it out?”. Y/n nodded as she moved to sit facing him as she moved the blankets off her. Allowing Steve to push up the sweat pants up to check her ankle. He frowned as he looked at it. “The swelling has gone down. But your ankle is still very bruised. Possibly broken or torn. I think more towards something that is torn.”. “Either way I’m going to be restricted am I?” Y/n asked softly. Steve nodded as he gently set her foot down on a pillow and grabbed the ice pack he brought with him. Gentle laying it down on her ankle. “Not going to lie , yeah it doesn’t look too good. Either way yeah your probably going to be restricted.”. Steve then headed back to the kitchen to finish up and plate up some food for himself and Y/n. As he left Y/n started to spiral. She had no where to go at all. Add on an injury like this it would slow her down a lot. It was only a matter of time till Alpha found her again. “Pup? You okay?” Steve asked snapped her out of it as he handed her a plate with food. Y/n nodded as she took the plate. Saying a quick thank  you as she thought it all over. “After we are done we can get ready and head out to the doctors. The doctor in town is a friend of mine Bruce. He offered to come in early to check you out so you can get checked out right away and not worry about having to wait.” Steve said as they eat. Y/n only nodded as she poked at her food. The worry eating her away. There was no way Steve would host her much longer and she will be out on the street. Not fully knowing where she is or where to go. Although she so badly wanted to be away from that other Alpha. But there was a part of her that didn’t think she would really get this far. So she didn’t really have a plan when she got away. And now she's facing that realization. “Pup? Are you sure you're okay? I can tell somethings bugging you.”Steve asked worried about Y/n as she was so zoned out and had a look like she was worried about something. Y/n nodded as she turned to look at him. Breaking out of her thoughts as she looked at him. “Yes , I just realized I don’t really have anywhere else to go.”. Steve nodded as he listened. “No parents or friends you could call? Steve asked. Y/n shook her head. “I've never had friends. And If i called or went to my parents, My father would just take me right back to Brock.” Y/n said as her breath started to get heavier. Being scared of that. Steve moved close to her reaching a hand out to her. “Yeah its okay. We won’t let that happen okay?’ Steve makes sure to release pleasant scenes to calm y/n down. After a few seconds Steve spoke up. “Is Brock the Alpha that was chasing you in the woods?”. Y/n nodded as she leaned up to set the food she barely touched on the coffee table. Staring at her hands. “Hes my husband. My father arranged me to marry him. ..I…I don’t came from a good back ground. One of Alphas believe they are truely above omegas. Omegas arn’t allowed the normal things in life. Only there to clean , cook and care for the alphas and Betas. They are arranged to marry alphas. After which they are mated and start popping out babies.”. Steve sat their shocked. Those are very old fashioned ways. He can’t believe there are still people out there who do such terrible things like this still. Steve reached out and grabbed Y/n’s hand. “I promise I will help you. You can stay here while you heal. When you can start to walk a bit more if you can just help around here with some chores. I’ll help you get back on your feet.”. “Why are you being so nice to me?”. Y/n asked in a shaky voice as she looked up at Steve with tear filled eyes.

---

@vicmc624

[pianokantzart]

Shout out to @multicolour-ink​ and @chloecherrysip​ for use of their gifs: X X

First of all, I’d like to point out how ecstatic Luigi gets the moment they get their first call. I know that some suspect that Mario dragged Luigi into the plumbing business (i.e. that “you’re bringing your brother down with you” line from their dad), but it seems to me that this is fully both Mario and Luigi’s dream.

Look at him! He is shaking with joy. He absolutely can not contain himself. He throws his recently-cracked phone in order to grab his brother by the shoulders and shake him before excitedly pulling him into a hug. His heart is all in on this company.

With their first job on the horizon Mario and Luigi race out of the restaurant, climb into their van, and start the engine. Unfortunately, it looks like the money that might have gone into keeping their vehicle in working condition went into that TV commercial. The van sputters for a moment before the engine dies completely.

One thing I noticed is that when they get in the van Luigi has his seatbelt on, while Mario doesn’t. Mario is too focused on his goal to remember the details, while Luigi continuously has safety on the mind. Makes me wonder how many times Luigi has had to remind his brother to buckle up halfway down the road.

Mario tries a second time to get the engine to start to no avail. Luigi begins to panic, fidgeting nervously in his seat. “Oh no, we’re gonna be late.”

“No we are not!” Mario picks up the bag of tools and shoves them into Luigi’s arms before opening his door and bolting out. “C’mon, let’s go!”

“Hey! Wait up!” Luigi races after his brother, who forges on full speed ahead. Mario leaps over and dives through every obstacle in his way with little regard for anything other than his destination, but while his eyes remain on the road ahead he calls back to his brother, making sure he’s keeping up and knows which way to go: “This way!” “C’mon Lu, step on it!”

Luigi has trouble right off the bat. Rounding a corner he almost bumps into a business man crossing the street, and is so distracted by the near miss that he crashes into the garbage can Mario recently leapfrogged over, disturbing the cat rummaging around inside. Luigi’s successive collision draws the cat’s attention, and just his luck the kitty takes one look at him and decides he’s gotta die. (Jeeze, what is it with Luigi and animals? They must get stressed out by his anxiety or something.)

Luigi continues to run into every possible obstacle while struggling to get the angry cat off his head, but Lordy he’s trying his best.

He accidentally knocks groceries out of a woman’s arms... but an interesting detail is that he manages to catch the grocery bag mid-air. Luigi’s clumsy and unlucky, but at the same time he’s got some decent reflexes.

Of course, catching the bag doesn’t stop its contents from spilling out onto the sidewalk. He tries to do the gentlemanly thing and pick them up– but being still in crisis he gets his wires crossed. He haphazardly shoves half the apples back into the bag, throws the malicious furball in for good measure, and hands it off to the nearest person with a friendly little “here ya’ go!” before running off.

Luigi finally catches up with Mario when he encounters an obstacle big enough to give him pause: a construction site that closed off the entire road. But Mario steels himself, regathers his determination, and barrels ahead once more before Luigi can catch his breath.

“Oh Mario, what are ya’ doin’!?” Luigi sounds desperate, practically pleading with his brother to hold his horses, but he follows nonetheless, and this time– given the more dangerous terrain– Mario is making sure things are a little easier for him. Mario opens the gates for Luigi, brings down a ladder, throws a wooden plank over a gap... little things to help him get through.

(Side note: I like how in this gif ⬆️ Luigi pauses a bit, trying to figure out whether or not he should apologize to the construction worker on his brother’s behalf before he just continues ahead out of fear of getting left behind.)

 But at the same time, there are obstacles that Mario is able to avoid that Luigi can’t help but stumble into. While Mario swings along chains and runs across metal beams overhead, Luigi once again fumbles his way into everything and everyone. Again, he’s trying his best to be polite all the while, apologizing to the victims of his clumsiness and gently tiptoeing through the recently-laid wet cement in an attempt to minimize the damage.

Finally they reach the end, and Mario is still calling after his brother. “C’mon Luigi, pump those legs!”

Luigi stumbles on, visibly panting. As he exits the construction site he attempts one last little formality on the way out by closing the gate behind him. “I’m trying... I’m trying! I’ve got bad knees!”

Conclusion:

When Mario is fixated on a goal he becomes reckless, so wrapped up in what he wants to do and where he wants to go that everything else falls to the wayside... except his brother. Despite his determination there is definitely a care and concern for Luigi all throughout, especially when the road gets rocky. At the same time, Mario doesn’t seem to quite see everything his brother goes through. I’m not talking about the “bad knees” line (that’s it’s own separate debate), I’m just talking about the usual bad luck Luigi encounters merely trying to run down a sidewalk. Though Mario has seen enough to be protective of his brother, he doesn’t handle Luigi with kid gloves. In fact, he holds him to almost the same standard he does himself, and I think Luigi appreciates that despite everything. When all is said and done they did make it to their destination on time... it just wasn’t the route that Lu would’ve chosen willingly.