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Hello !

Can I request how Dex, Prophet and Hemlock (separate) will be with a fem lover who is fed up with Harmony's bullshit and how their lover turned out ?

Like, instead of Charlie, it's reader who beats up the guys to bring them to reason.

Thanks

Knock The Sense Into Me

cw: FemPOV. Canon-typical violence. Angst. Relationship issues. Messy timeline in Hemlock's section. VERY long (i’m sorry).

a/n: An excuse to write a fight scene? Three of them?! My only regret is not being able to write four. I didn’t walk you beat by beat through the fights, but I do linger on them more than I should have (another reason this one took forever…). But I kept thinking, how do I end Prophet’s fight without dropping a mic on him??

Deckard “Dex” Voltaire

You really felt betrayed when you realized that Dex had sold out to Harmony.

One day he was with you, and the next day, you had a cold space where he used to be.

He didn't consult you, he didn't warn you. Dex just left you, and it caused a cold anger to wash over you.

It didn't take much for you to hear what they'd done to him, of course. Hell, Harmony promoted how they, as a music label company, managed to provide the city with clean energy with only the energy created from playing the guitar. Dex was on the cover of that.

At first, a terrible and bitter part of you thought that he deserved it. He finally got to be “perfect,” whatever that meant for him.

Your immediate thought caused you to feel guilty, and so you let him go to achieve his perfection. You never got to see him whenever you tried to physically go there, anyway.

However, the longer this goes on, the more you start to lose your friends. They all sell out one by one until you’re the only one who goes to The Encore anymore.

Eventually, the loneliness gets to you. You look out of one of The Encore’s windows and spot the Harmony building looming nearby.

They took everything they could get their hands on. You might as well take back what's yours.

By some miracle, you managed to reach him. You couldn't recall how many people you pushed and fought through to get here, but you finally stepped into the chamber with the city's generator.

The people who gawk and cheer to see a man forced to perform 24/7 notice you and the look in your eyes. It immediately causes them to step aside for you, creating a path straight to the barrier that separated you from Dex.

You hadn't seen him since he left, but you saw him on magazine covers. You saw all the wires and cords that connected into him. Seeing it in person, though…

Your approach and immediate vault of the barrier caused a hush to fall over the crowd near you, which spread with a sense of curiosity to those that couldn't see you until you stepped out into the clearing.

Dex heard the dimming of the noise, and when he lifted his head to see what caused it, his fingers slipped.

He didn't stop playing or anything. He's been at it for far too long to do that. But the next note or two to come from his guitar didn't quite fit into what he was playing prior.

“Dex,” you start, voice cold and firm like steel. He only stares at you. The fact that he keeps playing despite the confrontation irritates you even further. “You enjoying yourself up there? You like seeing them gawk at the freakshow?”

Dex flashed his teeth in a snarl, unhappy with your words. “I don't enjoy things, I get things done. It's the price of perfection.”

Words seem useless. It doesn't matter what you two say to each other, you won't meet eye to eye. Arguments like this weren't uncommon when you two were together, but it felt different, having him hoisted in the air with a hundred wires attached, watching him play even as he argued. It made you mad—yes, at Dex, but mostly at Harmony for turning him into this.

So, you don't argue. You don't throw in his face his old promise to never turn to body mods and never sell out. You don't remind him of the people he left behind.

Instead, you approach, and once he sees, he rears up his guitar. It acts as a signal, and suddenly you have guards and over-eager fans climbing past the barrier to get to you and stop you.

If he wanted to play this game, then you would too.

It was almost as if you entered a flow state when everyone started rushing you. You dodged and countered with ease. You punched, you kicked, you tossed people around with an ease that only came from spite and anger. A need to prove yourself.

For a moment, you feel your hair stand on end, but before you can do anything about it, the lightning strikes. The electricity courses through you, briefly knocking you off your feet. Your limbs tremble as you try to peel yourself off the ground.

Dex doesn’t want to admit that he got scared to see it happen. He wants to push you away, scare you off, but hurting you… It was an accident.

But Dex is an all-in person, so he doubles down. He casts the goons aside and metaphorically steps into the ring to fight you himself.

He swings, you dodge. He throws, you parry right back at him. It infuriates him!

So, in an attempt to end it, he brings his guitar up above his head and brings it down. And in usual you fashion, you dodge it, rolling onto the back of Ragnarock as soon as he tries to pull it up. You use this opportunity to grab onto the cords that connect him to the generator and to Harmony.

Your grab stops your momentum, and you're pulled back towards Dex. Your feet land on his back as you pull and pull and—

BZZT!

The wires are finally pulled out. Dex, used to the constant influx of energy, immediately falls to his knees. You act instantly, pulling out the wires attached to his legs, taking away the things that made him a machine.

He wants to yell at you, tell you to stop messing with things, but he can’t bring himself to do it. A quiet part of him is just happy to have your hands on him again.

You end up having to take him to The Encore yourself. He leans against you and curses at you quietly as you walk him back.

By the time you get him to The Encore, he feels a little more comfortable with holding his own weight, and you sit him down in a booth before sitting across from him.

Knowing that he won’t break the silence, you give him a look. “Talk?”

“About what? You won. Leave me alone.”

“This isn’t about winning, Dex! It’s not always a competition! I just want my boyfriend back.”

Dex looks away because he feels guilty and lost. He hates it.

After a very lengthy silence where he avoids your eye, he finally speaks, still keeping his eyes averted, his fingers moving along to the song playing faintly from the jukebox as if he knew the chords by heart. “I… want you back too. But I betrayed you and everyone else at the first opportunity I was given. I can’t just pretend that didn’t happen.”

“Would you do it again,” you ask him, head tilted curiously. When he confesses that, no, he wouldn’t, you tell him, “Then I’m not worried. We… We were all hurting then.”

It was, after all, shortly after Charlie’s death that Dex left you for idoldom with Harmony.

Dex snaps at you. He doesn’t want it to be that easy. “It’s not an excuse! No one else did it! No one else let their grief turn themselves into monsters!”

You move over to his side of the booth and you wrap your arm around his shoulder. He resists, refusing to lean against you. “Dex, no one else is here. They didn’t go immediately, but they all got worn down eventually. That doesn’t make them a monster. It makes them human, ironically. Just… doing what they have to, or what they think is right.”

You can see Dex’s lips purse into a thin line. You catch the look in his eyes. He’s trying not to cry. “I left you alone for ten years.” Unable to help himself, he leaned against you, finally giving in to your embrace. “You waited for ten years… Why? What made you think I was worth that?”

“I love you, Dex. And even if you’re different from the person you were all that time ago, you’re still human. I still love you.”

He made you promise not to tell anyone about how he cried after that. You didn’t have any intention of letting anyone else in on that vulnerable moment. You were just happy to have your boyfriend back.

Hemlock

It was always meant to be you and Hemlock versus the world. The others gave in, but you two stood your ground.

It never was easy to see Hemlock lose all his friends and bandmates to the enemy, but you always held him. You always gave him something to smash. Something to paint.

But one day, Benny suddenly pushes the two of you away. He’d never been the same since Charlie died, but he at least kept up with Hemlock. Those two had been friends since childhood.

So, when he was suddenly gone, Hemlock couldn’t take it anymore. He stomped and yelled and refused to listen to you. You couldn’t get a single word in, and when you kept trying, it only pissed him off more.

He yelled at you. It wasn’t his proudest moment, but the stress and the hurt was too much for him to realize that, in lashing out, he hurt you.

It’s not like he was ever that smart in the first place.

That night, Hemlock stormed off, and then he didn’t come back. You had, at the time, a clawing urge to chase after him and get him to talk it out, but you were hurting too, and so you didn’t.

For a while, you worried that he might have gotten in trouble or hurt.

But then you saw the magazine cover in a bodega you passed by: “Rocker Up” Hemlock exclusive: Toxicmaniac Apocalypse.

Without even thinking, you tore the cover from the magazine and ripped it to shreds. When the stand owner told you to pay for that, you just tossed the money in his direction before storming off.

Harmony! He fucked off to Harmony for fame just because you two had a fight! It infuriated you! It… It hurt you.

But you took a quiet moment to cry in private before storming off to where he usually spends his time—that damn subway.

Of course, anyone can take the subway: it's free. You can see it advertised as you walk down into the sublevel. It wasn't hard to find the platform he was on—you could hear the cheers all the way from the top of the stairs.

Showboating. You thought Aussies were supposed to be more down to earth than this.

You step inside, pushing your way through the crowd to get to the center. It seemed people were kind enough to leave it unoccupied for anyone waiting for the subway train. No one was actually here, but the thought counted, you supposed.

This hadn't been the first time he did this, actually. He would usually retreat into the subway and perform for his fans. Even before everyone all sold out, he would come down and rally people. Whether it was just for music or for some cause, people loved to band together for a shared cause.

And here he was, pretending that nothing changed, pretending that he hadn't given in to the man.

It pushed that anger back to the forefront of your mind.

Hemlock, atop the opposite set of stairs from you, saw you push through the crowd. You were familiar, but it was difficult for him to get a clear view through the crowd.

“Oi! Is that—”

Any kind of smartass remark dies in his throat when you finally manage to break free from the crowd. Of course he recognizes you. How could he forget you? You were the best thing that ever happened to him.

His girlfriend. Or, ex, now. He didn't know where he stood with you, and it tore him up inside.

But then he heard you speak.

“Do your fans know that you sold out to The Man?”

His fists clench tightly. “Say what you want! I've got real power now. I wouldn't call it selling out; it's more like… using my resources.”

“Is that what they call becoming Harmony’s musclehead?”

“That’s it! Everyone!” He points at you angrily. “This girlie’s banned from the subway! Get her out of here!”

Enemies swarm you. Not only fans, but even the riot cops that were meant to be watching Hemlock turn their gazes towards you.

Hemlock thought that would be that. He thought they’d give you a stern talking to, maybe toss you back above ground, but they start fighting you. Swinging, kicking. He wanted to yell at them to knock it off, but how would that look, going back on his word?

Tuning his bass was the only thing he could think to do to ignore you. He wanted to yell, maybe even talk, but he already laid down the law.

It was impressive, just how easily you weaved through the crowd, dodging punches and catching kicks before they could connect with your side.

But this couldn’t last forever. Hemlock never was one to stand back, away from the action. “That’s enough! It’s time for a proper reunion!” He tore through the crowd and leapt, swinging his bass, the blades spinning wildly as he slammed it into the ground where you were.

You dodged, of course. You didn’t miss, however, the way Buzzkill had landed a few inches from where you originally stood. Did he miss on purpose, or was he just rusty?

Hemlock comes at you in the only way he knows how to—with absolutely everything he’s got. He swings wide and you duck under him. He swings down and you slide beside him, giving him a harsh elbow to the side.

You’ve seen your boyfriend fight before, and this wasn’t quite it. Every move was predictable, he might as well be telling you everything he’s doing. You know he hits harder and faster. He fights nastier than this.

But if he’s hoping to drag this out, you aren’t having any of that. You rush him. When he swings, you fall to your knees, sliding under him and hitting the back of his knees, causing him to stumble down onto his knees.

You were up in an instant, bringing a leg up before swinging it down onto his chest, knocking the wind out of him as he fell onto his back.

The force of it caused him to lose his grip on Buzzkill, and you of course grabbed it, raising it over your head while turning towards Hemlock.

Your eyes locked moments before you swung down. Hemlock flinched, expecting a hit, and yet nothing happened. He could hear the blades of his bass still turning, and when he finally registered that his own weapon wasn’t imbedded in his chest, he looked up and saw you holding it mere inches from the flesh of his chest.

That could have been ugly.

But he wasn’t mad at having his own bass stolen from him. No, he couldn’t get over how hot you looked when you were angry.

After a beat, he feels the need to tell you: “You do know this is turning me on, right?”

His inability to take this seriously causes you to scoff as you toss his bass aside.

“Is this really what you want, Hemlock? To be at the beck and call of Harmony?” You bent over him, hands on your hips as you gave him a disappointed look.

“Obviously not! Of course not!” He sits up, his hand skating over the back of his dome. No cracks. That shit is durable. “But what the **** was I supposed to do? Honest change doesn’t happen anymore. You gotta get what you want, however you can.”

It shocked you to hear him say that. He was always so set in his ways. Rallies, petitions, protests, anything that would garner the change in the world he demanded, he took part in it. So what changed his mind now?

You're interrupted from your thoughts when you feel Hemlock take your hand and tug you close. You know that look. He wants you in his lap.

Here? Really? The subway was gone, and so were the people, but was this really the place for that?

You let out a sigh and let him pull you into his lap, straddling him as he held you close.

“I didn't mean to yell at ya,” he tells you as he presses his glass into the crook of your neck. No lips to kiss with, you were used to this. “I just… I got frustrated. Everyone left. What the hell was I gonna do by myself, huh? I look like a dumbass, nothin’ but my bass.”

“Not everyone left,” you tell him as you wrap your arms around him, holding him just as close. You missed him more than you would admit. “You had me. I would have stayed by your side until the world ended.”

His hands, which had been drifting lower and lower, stopped just before he could grab your ass. He sighed as he pulled back to look at you. Hemlock may just be a skull in a jar, but you could sense the regret seeping from him. “I didn't want you to see me like that. Just… givin’ up because life got hard.”

In response, you grab his jar, though his skull still floats freely inside. “You didn't give up. You used your resources, didn't you? That's what you told me.”

He lets out a small chuckle as his skull tilts to the side to avoid your stare. “Bah… you don't need t’spare my feelings. I learned my lesson: no more making you mad.”

That makes you laugh. “Let's go. The Encore is waiting.”

“Oh!” He holds you tightly as he stands up. He always acts like you weigh nothing to him. “The Encore?! I haven't been there in ages!” The man bends down to pick up his bass before he takes you back, refusing to let you go the entire walk back.

Prophet

Prophet actually tried to pretend he wasn't affected by Charlie's death. As he lost one person after another to Harmony, he just smiled and pretended that Dead As Disco wasn't falling apart.

But one day, Prophet comes to you with a deadly serious attitude. He sits you down and gives himself a beat before just asking you outright to join him when he leaves for Harmony.

Not if. When.

It shocks you entirely. You could tell that he wasn't joking. He was leaving, and he wanted to take you with him.

“Are… Are you serious?” It felt ridiculous to even consider it. How could Prophet choose Harmony over the others?

“I have to do this,” he tells you. “It's okay if you don't understand. But I don't want to lose you either.” Prophet takes your hands and looks into your eyes. “Please, baby. Come with me.”

It takes you a moment to wrap your head around it. How could he betray the band? They promised to never sell out. You pull your hands from his and tell him exactly that, and it seems to cause him to close himself off. He already treated that as a rejection.

He expected to be rejected, but a small part of him still hoped.

“I get that you don't want to go.” He didn't either, not really. “And I won't force you. But you're not stopping me, either.”

He gives you one more opportunity. “After today, I’m not coming back to The Encore, but I will miss you.”

“Are you serious?” You grab his hand when he tries to walk away. “You’re just selling out like that? What are you trying to get at?” What did he mean, you wouldn’t understand?

Prophet pulls his hand from yours before he can process that he’s done it. It hurts to push you away, but he does what he needs to do.

He leaves you there in The Encore. Part of you still thinks he'll turn back and say “sike” or something, but it never happens.

Prophet doesn't return the next day, or the day after that. You see him in interviews and magazines as the days pass. That shock freezes over into anger. Each time you catch sight of the eyesore of that Harmony building, your brow furrows harder and harder.

You walk with a quiet but intense purpose. People who see you on the street give you a wide berth just so they don't get shoulder checked by you.

You walked until you made your way to Dead End Drive. You weren't sure if Prophet would be here, but you could at least ask around. God knows you wouldn't get into that Harmony building.

You learn that Prophet runs with some group inside Harmony called Killa Boyz, and he spends most of his time as Harmony's talent agent. He was the gatekeeper on D.E.D. and he remains as such for Harmony as well.

You sit with the others and listen to them talk, not just about Prophet, but about D.E.D. as a whole. How could he abandon this? Even now, people look up to him. They don't see it as selling out, they see it as the next big step in his career. Hearing them talk almost quelled the anger in your heart.

A hush falls over part of the crowd. Spray cans fall silent, chatter is reduced to reverent whispers, and you turn just in time to hear the man speak.

“Look who it is! Miss me, baby?”

“Prophet,” you mutter as you get up, squaring off against him. There he goes, pretending nothing is different. “Playing at being part of the street even though you spend your nights in that cushy tower?”

Your words cause a murmur to spread through the crowd, but Prophet just chuckles, acting as though you told a joke. “Don't forget, this is my home. I grew up here. You saying I don't belong here anymore?”

Instead of answering, you just raise your hands in mock surrender. “Hey, you're the one who said it.”

Prophet's smile falls as he watches you. “You seem to be the only one who's mad. Maybe you're actually just jealous, hm?”

Why is this becoming a diss challenge? You don't want to argue, you just want your boyfriend back.

“Forget about the crowd for once, Prophet. I'm not gonna play these games. Let's go back to the Encore together.”

Now that made him laugh. “You think you can take me? You think it's that simple? It would be funny, if it wasn't so pathetic.”

How could he talk to you like this? It was like he was a totally different guy.

“I'm going to start swinging. And when I knock you on your ***, I'm taking you back to The Encore. No more Harmony, no more gatekeeping.”

His eyes narrow, all that friendly familiarity gone from him. “I’d like to see you try.”

The both of you break out into a fight. The people around you swarm the sides, all desperate to get a good look at the fight, and you can’t help but wish they’d all go away. Prophet is probably acting this way because of all these people.

He always loved to put on a good show.

And your fight ends up as quite the spectacle. Prophet spits words at you almost too quickly for you to keep up, but every time he throws a hit, you manage to parry and counter them all. You’re so locked in that you can feel how tense your muscles are.

One thing hasn’t changed: you’re incredibly nimble, especially compared to him. You slip past all of his attacks, you taunt him. You don’t know when, but the crowd fades away and leaves just you two to tango. When you tease him too much, he scoffs.

“Warm up’s over,” he tells you as he cracks his knuckles, but you’re not done with him.

He gets more aggressive. He’s not waiting for a perfect move anymore. More than anything, he wants to get you to back down, even if that means getting tougher with you.

And when the adrenaline starts pumping too hard, he makes a lunge for you. It’s a sloppy lunge, and you duck under, sticking your leg out and tripping him to the ground. You smile at him as he turns to sit, glaring at you.

Before he can get up, you point at him. “And there you are, on your ***. Guess that means I’m taking you back to The Encore.”

“It ain’t that simple. I’d like to come back with you, sweetie, but I got things to do. You wouldn’t understand.”

“There it is again,” you tell him, narrowing your eyes. "‘I wouldn’t understand.’ Probably because you never bother to tell me what’s going on in that head of yours!”

No, he didn’t. Prophet took on that burden by himself. He thought he could carry it without needing to worry you.

He sighs as he pulls himself up, shifting onto one knee. He gestures you closer, and you oblige, letting him take your hands in his.

“I wanted to keep you from worrying. It wasn’t right to keep you in the dark.” He looks down, his fingers tracing circles on the back of your hands. “I just…” Finally, he looks back up at you. “I wanted to protect everyone, you included. I thought, if I took Harmony’s deal, I’d be able to keep an eye on everyone. Keep the execs from comin’ down on them.”

He finally gets up to his feet, but not before pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “I’m sorry for walking away from you. I was doing what I thought was right.”

You purse your lips tight as you watch him unfold to his full height. “Just like you, always wanting to protect others. You’d sell your soul to keep your friends safe.”

“But I left you to do it. How can you forgive that?” “Probably because I love you.” Plus, you understood what he was doing. Maybe there would be more talking involved at a later date, but for now, you were happy to have him back.

Your quick response gets a smile out of him, and he picks you up in a hug. “You are an angel, you know that? I’m never leaving you again.”

You would hold him to that.

do NOT feed my writing to AI

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