#I would have even understood choosing Crooked as well

[hideawayfairy]

You know, I knew there was gonna be a music video released based on one of the songs from Mammon's Musical Special.

I just thought they would have gone with "2 Minute Notice" so imagine my surprise that they gave it to "JUGGLING IZ COOL."

[inspirationallybored]

Hey!

So, I was switching POVs in BRT, to get into the head of characters other than Kai as a narrator. This is how it turned out. I think I might make this a series or something. Let me know what you think!

This one is from the Lieutenant's POV, and it was so difficult to switch voices (I usually write from one POV only lol).

Huge spoilers ahead! So read only if you wouldn't mind them. If you're really curious for context, I'll let you know!

@everflowingriver @inknrivers @afantasyoffiction @seastarblue @write-with-will @carb0n-m0n0xide @sunflowerrosy

Acacius woke up in the dingy alleyway. Again. This was the second time in the same day. And he wasn't even sure when he fell asleep.

It was the same scene, over and over. Nothing changed, just a wishful dream. Or maybe a memory.

He pushed that thought away. Not now.

However, something was different this time. For one, he could see faces. Strange. He never did. No matter how much he tried. He tried filling those blank spaces with people he knew. Something familiar. Something safe. He tried, but failed every time.

But he could see them now, bright as day. The other boy with him was about the same age. His eyes were like a sweet dream, looking at him with the love of the memories they shared. He couldn't avert his gaze, though he wanted to. He had to push himself to look at the rest of the company.

His eyes first fixed on his left, where he saw the Strategos sat.

Except, she didn't look like the wise girl at all.

She still had her golden locks tied up. Sure, a few strands fell on her face, not quite neat. But it was still up. Her glasses were on the edge of her nose. Yes, it was her.

Only, she looked... different. She did not have bags under her eyes. Her face shined, and the world brightened with her laugh. Strange. He had never even seen her crack a grin.

Yet there she was, rolling over some joke he had not heard. Sure, she didn't either, since they had been speaking in a language neither understood. But he did understand, right?

No. Not again.

Besides, she probably dropped her hearing aid again. Did she ever do that? He wondered how she got by the day with a position like hers. Or how anyone in their right mind would choose her for her job description. She was the most adorable person he knew, which explained nothing.

But she laughed. So she must have understood what was said. He looked for the person who must have translated the words for her-

What was that wretched criminal doing here?

She sat there. With them. Laughing as if she was so pure. As if she hadn't ruined so many lives. Whose lives? She did not look like she could answer. She was one with the wind, carefree yet delicate. She was free.

And for once, he was too. He realised quite a while afterwards that his lips had parted, his mouth open in a roar. Had he even heard what they had said? And did it matter? He too, was rolling with all the joy of the world. Well, if the world consisted of wooden boxes and the aroma of food. For all he cared, it did.

Their laughs were interrupted by the dreamy boy, "Don't you have your duties or something?"

Duties?

Only then did he see. The two girls, side by side, donning the same dress. The uniform of the Triarii. The combat uniform of the Triarii. The Strategos was not in her usual blue, and the criminal had the yellow badge, the marking of a Sargent.

Yeah, this was definitely a dream.

The crook simply waved a paper. "We have a permit. We're supposed to patrol this area, to ensure safety, you understand?"

"And what better way to do that than engage the biggest troublemakers?" The Strategos chimed.

He could only scoff, "Quite some idea. Well, we accept you great sacrifice!"

The other boy chimed in a whisper, "Hey, softly Alpe. We can't disturb others, you know?"

Who's Alpe?

He couldn't care less. He giggled as swung back, letting the world hear them.

Well, he swung a bit too hard. The world called him down.

He hit his head. Ouch.

Well, that was it.

He would wake up.

He would open his eyes to reality.

He didn't wake up.

His eyes jolted open.

He could see it.

The sky, clear as day. Well it was afternoon. There were no clouds, and the sun wasn't blinding him.

But what mattered more were the stars. Millions of them, sharing their kingdom with their big brother. They twinkled and flew across the blue canvas.

"Look! It's the Zuhre!" He pointed out. The others looked at the sky, four pairs of eyes almost peeling off the jeweled sky. Their next steps were somewhat mechanical. Alperen and Kahir (who?) closed their eyes to make a wish, hoping it would be fulfilled by the heavens that sent the stars. Laia (who's that now?) prayed for the souls that now watched over them.

Atanea did not share their enthusiasm. "Oh, oh no, oh this is not a good sign."

"Why not?" Al grew concerned at the way she said that. Sure, she was quite the thinker, but he did not like to see her so tensed. And her being worried did end up in some sort of twisted truth.

Ata explained, her face pale, "Our ancestors say it is an omen for destruction, a warning from our elders."

The air thickened. Somehow, the sky responded with a thick cover of clouds to match them. The last thing any of them wanted was more trouble, what with the recent riots and all. Al wished he had asked for one peaceful day instead. What he did wish for was pretty much the same in sense, but he wasn't sure if the stars understood that.

He glanced at Kahir, who must have been thinking of the same thing, because he started to sweat. He tried to wipe it off to hide his worries, which was an admirable, but very futile effort.

Even Laia, always the quick one, couldn't diffuse the situation. Uh oh. That usually wasn't too good, to leave her speechless. They could really use her power now.

Before Al could say, or even think of anything that would lighten the mood, by some curse of Ata's words, he heard footsteps.

Acacius woke up in an unfamiliar bed.

[myriadparacosm]

Black Beats Black - snippet chapter 7: Ambrosia

“Thank you,” she says with a last look at their friends before her intense viridian eyes fall on him. “Remus, I understand that you don't want to talk about it but I would rather be honest with you. I don't want you to be mad.”

Remus frowns at her, slowly getting more and more worried. “What do you mean?”

“I know.”

“What?” His lips can't help but tick with a bit of humor. 

She brazenly holds his gaze with a grim seriousness but he can't properly make sense of it. Her last words were about Sirius, looking for details, and Regulus but Remus is sure she has understood his point. He won't come near their relationship even if it hurts– without even considering Sirius choosing one of them.

“Remus, I know.”

It takes him a blink to fully grasp on what she says. Lily stops at his side with a conflicted expression. She tries to make it seem less grave but Remus is still slowly crushed at what she means. There aren't many options that don't make him feel sick. Her insistence about Sirius, their fight and his brother freezes him with a vague nausea.

“You…”

Remus knows well enough that she is smart and they are close enough for her to know how to read him. It's still a slap to his face that she might have figured out his feelings for Sirius– why would she insist otherwise? He had believed that outside of the dorm his thoughts and feelings were perfectly hidden.

“It's not that obvious,” she softly says but her encouragement falls flat. “You know how to cover your back, but I might care too much about you to ignore all the hints.”

“Does anyone else know?” Remus croaks out, feeling faint and he hastily starts walking to the castle to feel somewhat in control.

Lily follows him and, despite the distance between them two and the others, keeps her voice down.

“James confirmed-”

“Bloody-”

“But I was already sure of it myself,” Lily insists. “It was by accident that we talked about it. Nothing more. But Remus, it changes nothing. Alright? Nothing.”

“Do we really need to talk about it?”

“No, not really but– I want you to know that I'm on your side, Remus. Always will be.”

She carefully grabs his arm before slipping hers into its crook when he doesn't move away. Remus still refuses to meet her eyes, staring at Sirius from afar who chats with his brand-new friends.

He can't believe that he has been obvious even now, after everything that happened - the pain that Sirius caused to him when Remus had been feverishly believing that he found his people. Someone who doesn't mind his horrible curse and all the complications he brings onto the table.

“It changes everything,” he mutters because while he isn't afraid of the repercussions of being queer, he is terrified at the idea that his feelings get out, especially at this point when they make little sense. “Do you think Sirius knows?”

Lily is frighteningly silent for a few seconds. “What do you mean? Of course, he knows.”

Remus freezes. She stares at him in confusion but still holds on to him with a soft care in her fingers. He thought it couldn't get worse.

“No, he– that's impossible.”

Sirius would have said something, definitely a bad thing, just to reassure Remus that they will stay good friends but never more because that would be too much. Perhaps he would completely ignore it, Remus would prefer that option but only if he stayed ignorant; how does Sirius look at him if he knows that Remus loves him?

“What are you talking about? I know he has been helping you all these years. Just like James and Peter.”

Remus hysterically jerks away. Lily stumbles a step but saves herself with an astonished look that melts in worries. He clears his throat, too fast and too roughly but he can't breathe and feels like he should crawl away in the Forbidden Forest right now.

“What are you talking about?”

She purses her lips and exhales. “I'm talking about your lycanthropy.”

He is completely daft– it's even worse. That Sirius knows, naturally, and Lily has pieced together. James dared to also confirm it to her and now Remus’ shameful secret, one of but it is easily the worst he realises now, is out to one of the few people he wants to keep in his life.

[siriuslychessi]

Day 05 - Rings

AO3 || FF

Marlene tried to cover the dark spots below her eyes with makeup, she did her best, but she had spent so many days working at Mungo's and the missions that they were harder to cover than other times. 

Sirius watched her, like many other times, before dates or important outings, telling her she should hurry, or that she looked fine without all the need for all the makeup, they were just going for a drink with friends at a random pub, no need to put all that effort. However, that always fell on deaf ears, as she said she would be ready when she was, and they could leave them. 

There were so many times where that scene reproduced itself, where they would bicker for one thing or the other, and she would complain that he had it easy, he just had to dress and he was done; while women had to work harder to look that good. 

And the answer was always the same: you look gorgeous, even without the makeup. Yet, Sirius understood the make up was not for him, or the others, it was something that made Marlene feel more confident in certain scenarios. 

Marlene looked at Sirius through the mirror, he was staring from the door of their shared bathroom, and she smirked; “Are you here to tell me to hurry up?” she teased as she continued to try to cover the rings under her eyes. 

Sirius rolled his eyes, with a matching smirk, “Would it even matter if I did?” he knew it wouldn’t, he just continued to watch, worried more at how tired she looked, and pretended to not be, than the time.

“Most days, no.” she admitted, finally happy with the result and putting some mascara on. “However, today is not about me.” she smiled, her mouth moving as she put on the lipstick, “Today is about James and Lily, and I think my gift to them would be to arrive on time.” she joked. Her hands undoing the rollers to let the curls let loose.

“I’m sure they’ll be a bit late as well. It seems they started the honeymoon stage as soon as James put that ring on her finger.” Sirius teased.

Marlene laughed, and a bit of the worry on Sirius’ mind loosened. “They’ll be giving us niblings soon enough if they keep at it. They are giving us a run for our money.” she turned to him, moving closer. Her hands fixing the almost imperceptibly crooked tie. 

“We’ll have to get back at it during the reception, see if we catch up again.” he chuckled, looking at her gorgeous blue eyes, thinking there was a strong chance that they would actually end up doing that. 

Marlene rolled her eyes and moved to the bedroom, where her dress lay on the bed. A shade of blue that complemented her eyes, Lily was always mindful of others when choosing dresses for her bridesmaids. Careful to not wring it she put it on. Sirius was quick on his feet and was helping it zipping it up. 

“Maybe, if you are on your best behaviour. Or maybe I’ll hook up with one of the other groomsmen.” she teased, as Peter and Remus would never dare, and neither would her. 

“Someone should take that stick out of Lupin’s arse, so maybe I’ll reconsider.” he joked, finishing with a peck on her lips. 

“I never knew you fancy him like that, I’ll make sure to leave you two alone.”

They both laughed. She grabbed her purse. 

“Got the rings?” She asked as she grabbed her wand to apparate. 

“Right here.” Sirius patted his left pocket. 

Marlene put her hand around his arm, “Who do you think will cry first? Mrs Potter or Mrs Evans?”

“My money is on James, as soon as she sees Lily down the aisle.”

[exvangelicalrage]

What Is Crooked Cannot Be Straightened

5/29/23

When I started going to therapy for religious trauma, my therapist directed me to Abraham Piper, a rather famous exvangelical and son of John Piper, a famous evangelical fundamentalist. Abraham Piper's TikTok account was interesting, philosophical, and entertaining all at the same time, and many of his ideas hit home with me, as someone who was floundering with the idea of religious trauma, despite it having been nearly 8 years after my Exit. 

One of the tags he used was #abusurdism which I'd never heard of before, and being a curious type of person, I googled it. 

"What is absurdism?"

Of course, as you might expect, I found dozens of articles and reddit threads discussing Albert Camus, existentialism, and meaninglessness.

I was hooked. 

Meaninglessness had been an appealing concept to me since the first time I read Ecclesiastes, the only book of the bible I ever really liked. 

Even now, if you asked me what my favorite book of the bible was, I'd still say Ecclesiastes. When I was young, my reason was that it was beautiful poetry written by a clearly intelligent person who understood the futility of life, and which ended by directing you to trust god. 

Now my reason is because Ecclesiastes breaks christianity. It's like a computer virus. As soon as you run ecclesiastes.exe, blue screen.

In Ecclesiastes, the writer concludes that everything is meaningless, therefore, your best bet is to fear god and follow his commandments (cough *philosophical suicide* cough). The ending offers an easy "skip" button. 

"Fear god!" christian you might think. "Great, that's all I need to know. I was gonna do that anyway."

This answer is good enough until you read that verse in Romans about how you're supposed to study the scriptures. And then you do study them.

As soon as you really begin to look deeply into Ecclesiastes, one key thing leaps out: if everything is meaningless... so is following god and his commandments. That solution the Teacher offers? Just as meaningless as any other solution.

All of christianity centers around one foundational element: the meaning of everything is god.

But if there is no meaning to everything, if god is not the meaning after all... what does that mean for the entirety of the christian religion? 

If you take Ecclesiastes literally, then making the choice to "obey god" is just as meaningless as making a different choice. Even if you choose to "follow god," the method for doing so is meaningless. You could choose to follow the old testament god or the new testament god, you could follow Thor or Allah, you could rename the universe "god" and call it a day—and you get to make up your own "rules" about what following god looks like, and at least philosophically speaking, you're good to go.

Most christians would argue that therefore you must follow the christian scripture, because obviously the bible doesn't contradict itself, because it says so. heh

But this doesn't work. Literally no one follows the scriptures literally. Not even literalists. Because it's impossible. Because the bible doesn't agree with itself about anything.

And even if you find ways to look past all the other contradictions, Ecclesiastes undermines everything else. It puts questions where They don't want questions. It adds flexibility where They don't want flexibility. It adds meaninglessness where They want meaning.

And They can't get rid of Ecclesiastes. Because if They do that, then they're picking and choosing what scripture to follow. And if you can cut and paste Ecclesiastes, then it follows you can cut and paste the rest of the bible, in which case you might as well just throw the whole thing in the trash and start over. 

As far as I can tell, the "best" argument against my interpretation of Ecclesiastes is "no, you're misinterpreting it" which... isn't an argument. The very fact that Ecclesiastes demands interpretation in order to "fit" with the rest of christianity, means that I can interpret it however the hell I want.

And I choose to interpret it as an exploration of the meaninglessness of everything that ultimately undermines the whole of christianity.

When faced with ultimate meaninglessness, some people choose to avail themselves of the pleasures of life. Some people choose to work. Some people choose to find meaning in the mundane. Some people create their own meaning. Some people (like Solomon) choose to follow god and obey the king. And some people simply... accept meaninglessness.

And this is the heart of absurdism: choosing to accept meaninglessness as a fact of life, rather than fighting against it, trying to fix it, or trying to solve it.

Everything is meaningless. Utterly meaningless.

Including Ecclesiastes.

Everything is meaningless and that’s okay. Not only is it okay, it's good. Because acceptance often brings peace, freedom, and joy where there was only cognitive dissonance before.

[zyonsay]

Hi can you write Oscar Piastri x male reader where the male reader has very bad mental health and starts a mental health journal were he writes in it every day

You keep me grounded OP81

Fem aligned people may read but not f3tishize my work!!

Summary: You aren't feeling well and Oscar wants to talk about it

Reader: Male

Warnings: Mental unwellness

Now playing: My teacher yapping about IT

AN: This is short and rushed, but i hope you still enjoy. Please take care of yourself anon <3

Oscar had noticed that something wasn’t right. It’s not like you didn’t function in your daily life anymore, but you got quieter. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he noticed you starting to write in a small book of sorts.

Whenever he’d catch you writing something in it, you’d immediately hide it under your pillow or put another book over it. Oscar wasn’t careless enough to just search for it and read through it, he understood that would break your trust and invade your privacy.

But he couldn’t take it any longer. Oscar wanted to know what was wrong. He couldn’t stand his boyfriend not feeling well.

You were sitting on the couch in the living room, huddled in a blanket and scrolling through Instagram, when your partner suddenly appeared behind you, leaning down to hug you. This startled you at first, but then you smiled slightly, holding his arms that were wrapped around you.

“Can we talk?”, he said in a rather sad tone, making you wonder what had upset him. You nodded, patting the space next to you on the couch. He sat down and took one of your hands in his.

One look into his warm, brown eyes was enough for tears to start running down your cheeks. His expression looked pained, and he got a bit closer to you.

“I know that something isn’t right baby. Please talk to me. I want to help you.”, Oscar was absently rubbing patterns on your hand, giving it a light squeeze as he looks back into your eyes.

You were struggling to put your feelings into words. Daily life was getting more and more exhausting, and you felt all alone in this mess. Burdening Oscar with your troubles wasn’t really something you wanted to do, but dealing with it alone also didn’t work well.

This was the reason why you started a journal. It was easy and practical, you could vomit your thoughts out onto the paper and then decorate it with pretty flowers, as if you weren’t ugly crying just a few minutes ago. You knew that you should get professional help but organizing everything seemed awfully difficult.

You struggled keeping up the eye contact, so you avoided Oscars soft gaze. 

“I... I feel like shit.” The end of your sentence was swallowed by a big sob, and you started crying again. Oscar slung his arms around you and pulled you into him, holding you close. He calmly stroked your hair, whispering sweet little words.

“I feel so lonely. I don’t want to feel that way. “, you swallowed hard and hid your face in the crook of your boyfriend’s neck.

Oscar hugged you even tighter. “You don’t have to feel that way.”, he tipped your chin up so he can pamper your face with feather light kisses. “We’ll work through it together, I’m here for you.”

He got up from the couch. “Choose a movie you like sweetheart. I’ll go get some snacks,” he smiled warmly at you, before making his way towards the kitchen.

You scrolled through your streaming service and found your favorite movie: Ratatouille.

Oscar and You are now cuddled up with a bowl of popcorn between your legs and various packs of sweets lying all over the couch and the coffee table while Remy, the rat, was cooking a soup on screen.

[voidtouched-blue]

❰❰ BED ❱❱ our muses share a bed

Kaleh'a!

"This...is not what I had in mind...", Cyra's face and ears had been flushed a bright red.

Of course traveling with another would come with a few obstacles, but it was to her genuine surprise that the innkeeper had assumed they would be in the same room. Normally, she wouldn't have minded this. As long as there were separate beds, Cyra was not opposed to sharing.

"Hells take me.", she pinched the bridge of her nose as she leaned her staff in the crook of her arm. "And this is the last room they have available..."

She swore that the Twelve had been toying with her. Why else would they be putting her into these rather interesting situations? Though, Kaleh'a seemed to not mind the cozy nature of this predicament one bit. A true Moon Keeper through and through. He understood her aversion to others in her personal space, and despite the obvious size of the bed, assured her that he would not dare encroach on that space if he could help it.

His words were appreciated, but action would speak at a far higher volume than breathed promises.

She watched while he made himself comfortable in the room. Still standing by the door, she let out another heavy sigh as she rested her staff up against the wall. She placed her bags down, even unloaded the various pouches from her belt to ease the general discomfort that oozed out into the room from her person. It was clear that it was affecting him, even if it was unintentional. She offered him a silent smile to ease his worries.

I could very well just...sleep on the floor, she thought. It wouldn't have been the first time she spent a night curled up on the floorboards. Wood had been far more comfortable than the poured stone and metal she had been used to. It wouldn't have been an unwelcomed experience, to say the least. Even though her words had not been more than just thoughts, she could already feel the sad look of his realization that she would choose to sleep on the floor.

So she settled for 'building' a wall of pillows and sheets between them.

"What?", she furrowed her brow at his expression. "Did you think that I wouldn't have some sort of barrier erected for my comforts? I don't often find myself in the company of others, let alone long enough to share a bed. You can keep the blankets, I won't need them."

She sighed as she selected the side farthest from the door. Cyra curled up on her side, tucking herself into a small ball on the bed as she tugged her hood over her head to block the lingering light from her eyes.

When she felt the straw mattress shift beside her, it was instinct that made her snap up to see if he had moved her padded fortress. Instead, he had simply sat on the bed and shifted to prepare himself for his own slumber. She eyed him carefully, observing how he held his hands up in defense that he hadn't touched a single thing. It was only when she laid back down that she felt him shift again.

The respect of her needs brought a tired smile to her features before they both drifted off into their own sleep.

[xfindingtrouble]

❝  on some level I think I always understood, that these hands of mine were clumsy not clever. ❞ //pikey @ percy :)

He leans back into his chair, cradling his drink in between gloved hands. The night had gone by too quickly, full of jokes & good company. As the night passed before them, the tavern they had inhabited was beginning to empty. The corner table they had nestled in was feeling more personal by the moment. With all the noise gone, it was easier to think, to get swept up in sentiment & linger on the mistakes that stained their hands.

It was hard to imagine Pike with shaking hands when those hands wrought so much life. Pike was a grounding presence, a literal light in the darkness… but all light casted shadows. It's daunting to be presented with her truth, though he cannot help but revel in the fact that he's trusted with it.

He wants desperately to reach out, to comfort her, but it was not in his nature. Percy's heartbeats feel too tight as he turns her words over in his head, each ' thump agonizingly slow as he chooses his words. His instinct is to push, to avoid the emotions woven into the divulgence. He could dance around the words, he could shift the subject & look to something easier to chew on until they too filtered out of the tavern. But he won't disrespect her like that, despite his instinctual aversion to sentiment.

Even now, he sees it in her eyes. That light that dances in them relentlessly, the shadows that linger beyond. Percy thinks Pike may have the deepest understanding of life & death out of all of their friends. Sure, they were all well-acquainted with the concept. But she knew what it was to give life, take life, lose life. It would change anyone by the end of it.

Perhaps if she felt anything like he did, she knew how those concepts could tangle uncomfortably. She had to sift through the threads of good & evil & make that choice. It was one she seemed relentless in, unstoppable in her quest to be better than she was yesterday & the day before. Determination aside, they were still prone to mistakes.

Mistakes could make a man, but Pike was better than any man Percy had ever known.

" Clumsy or not, those hands do an awful lot of good. " Percy peers over the rim of his drink, taking a sip to wash down his aversion to emotion. Percy didn't have the most reliable philosophy on good…but he tried to be when circumstances allowed it. Good was just fine when the opportunity presented itself, but it was hardly his priority. But Pike tried, even when it was hard. Even when she couldn't be. That was more than Percy could say about himself. Those instances didn't change her at her core. She was a rock, an anchor, an unstoppable force in an unyielding world. maybe he's getting a bit sappy, maybe the drinks are hitting him a bit harder than he expected.

" Besides, if you were too clever you wouldn't have kept me around." His features split into a crooked smile, sarcasm dancing off his tongue. He washes it down with another sip before he softens, just a bit, " Clumsy isn't so bad. Clever gets you into trouble anyways. "

[angelictyphoon]

Tears track hotly down his face before Vash even has time to process what's happening. Wolfwood presses in close, and Vash finds himself stuttering for breath as he tucks his chin in against the crook of Wolfwood's neck. Like a battering ram, Wolfwood has barreled past 'I'm fine.' The facade that Vash has carefully erected means nothing. 

Not with the warmth of life that seeps into his clothes, solid, real. Rhythmic, a strong beating heart pressed over his own accompanied by the scent of sandalwood and tobacco he can barely smell because he is congested with ugly, shoulder-shaking sobs. His arms slowly wind up Wolfwood's back, climbing like vines, clinging tightly like he has found a lifeline.

At the end, Knives finally understood. What it meant to touch the heart of others, to let theirs touch yours. 

Victory tasted several shades of bittersweet.

The monster of choice came for him that day, like how it has lingered on the fringes of every day since. Looming like the red glare of the Fifth Moon over their heads.

He does not keep track of how long they stand there beneath the stretch of No Man's Land's nightly colors. Long enough for him to stop trembling, for gasping breaths to become quiet sniffles pressed to the now damp shoulder of Wolfwood's jacket. Long enough for him to remember to smile, even if he is sad.

Confession weighs heavily on the tip of his tongue, the deepening furrow of his brow, and he wonders what Wolfwood would think of the self-fulfilling prophecy that woke the dreaming saint. Who better to hear it?

"Walking is the easy part."

The footsteps they leave here will fade. Filled in by the infinitesimal amounts of sand coaxed into motion by the desert breeze. Vash, watery-eyed and flushed red, reluctantly pulls back. Back, but not fully away. Enough to see Wolfwood’s face. He continues to marvel at it, the familiar hook of his nose, warm eyes and a warm gaze set against dark skin and the scratchy beginnings of a beard. 

“You were right, you know.” When Wolfwood gives him a look of question, Vash meets eye contact with no hints of regret and offers him a smile. The light of the Fifth Moon is more than enough for them to see by; an observer far older than Vash himself. “About having to choose,” he elaborates, because Wolfwood has been right about a great many things as they tumbled from each speck of humanity clinging to life in the No Man’s Land to the next.

The buzz of worm wings has quieted to a thrum in the shadows of the engine. They are far from the cover of sandstone mesas that hem in large swaths of the sand sea or dry canyon beds that might offer nooks and crannies to hide in. Every minute they spend out in the open is risky, but this is important and Vash is determined. 

They have escaped by the skin of their teeth from worse situations before.

“I chose.” I chose you, he does not say, and perhaps Wolfwood knows him well enough that he does not have to when fresh tears line his eyes and Vash finally looks away so Wolfwood cannot see them fall. His Adam's apple bobs with a swallow and the last piece of his admission. “And I would make the same choice every time.”

Vash anticipates Wolfwood's counterpoint. Of course he does; it was an argument they had in fits and starts during their travels--crisis after crisis, town after town, a breakneck beat blistered across the desert, punctuated with bullets, punctuated with stones from the hands of terrified children.

He anticipates because he knows. He knew then too. He knew so much, so quickly, and he worked to forge another path anyway.

And what Vash says sees Nicholas stopping dead in his tracks, worn shoes tilted against the crest of the dune. Lurched. Only the weight of his cross keeps him balanced, and even then he looks as though he might fall. As though he has stopped breathing. For a moment, he does.

The skies are vast, clear, cloudless. The worm swarm, bioluminescent, has descended from the heavens to land on the ruined drive cones, to consume whatever fuel residuals might remain. All that leaves is the vault of stars, the glare of moonlight - only the Fifth Moon hugs the horizon, a dim half-lidded eye that never fully closes. Gazing. All-consuming. Red, red. Red, like blood. Red like Vash's coat. Red, staring back, staring deep, staring through, casting a long, long shadow behind them.

Gone.

Only when he burns his crumpled cigarette down to the filter - only when the heat threatens to singe his lips - does he exhale its remains in a hot plume against the plunging cold, dropping the butt into the shifting sand.

Vash is at his flank, and he wonders--who guides whom? Some ideals are worth dying for, much as something feral in him growls and snarls at the notion, and he has no reason to assume a lie.

He had to. Knives is gone.

Processing, even with enhanced synapses, takes far more time than he would care to admit. 

But then Vash is saying more, touching his arm. Points of contact. Suggestions. Next steps. Wolfwood finds himself without words to reach for. Struck utterly silent. He has an arsenal at his disposal - guns aplenty, a litany of doctrine and religious text, dexterous hands fit for killing, fit for practical mending, fit for card tricks and chicanery, but he does not have the tools to articulate this.

The Punisher thuds into the sand, its mass driving it down like a coffin nail stuck in a burl. It sags, upright at an angle, and he does nothing to correct it, because he wheels on the man in red without pretense and without warning. Reaching, seizing, grabbing, pulling.

Not quite crushing. Close. Desperate. As if he could shield him with an embrace, guard against pain that already resonates. He was never the greatest at affection, not genuinely, but damn it, he intends to try.

Tucking his chin to the top of Vash's shoulder, Nicholas means to clasp at the base of his neck, callused, nicotine-stained fingers careful with the fringe of sable at his nape.

"...I'm sorry," he manages, but for the life of him he cannot elucidate as to what for.

For doubt. For loss. For not being there. For everything.

Knives was a monster through and through, but that hardly changes the fact that he and Vash were blood. Two halves of a coin. Brothers. 

He was never the greatest at affection, but he knows the grim toll of grief, of guilt. He knows what it means to lose a brother - even if Livio found himself again. Even if Wolfwood then became the darker, more violent half that Livio lost.

Unpleasant thought, unpleasant parallel.

They cannot stay here; there’s an ocean of dunes to cross, a straight line between death, devastation, and hope before the suns rise, before the scavengers have a chance to pursue.

A few minutes. Time feels nebulous at best.

“S’a long walk.” Limned with concern, his raspy observation is quiet as anything. “Closer than the Citadel.”

[jeizllz]

No past lovers could ever compare to you

Pairing :vampire!Kyle “Gaz” Garrick x reader

note : This is the first time i ever post sometthing i write so i lack experience but if you have tips for me to get better, I would appreciate it! Also, english isn’t my first language so bear with me pls :)

warnings : none i guess?

words count : 442

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He had touched many things, smelled many things and above all, seen many things. But nothing ever made him feel the way you did.

The first time he smelled you, he thought the god above finally decided to put an end to his dull and miserable existence, and gave him permission to experience a glimpse of heaven. No human, no animal or plant could ever smell this good, he was convinced of it.

He only realized he was living no fantasy when he was able to locate the source of the smell.

Then he saw you. If he was breathing, he’s sure he would’ve stopped by now. In all his years of living, he had the chance to witness a lot of beautiful women. But would it even be fair to try and compare them to you when he knew, there was no way they could ever live up to you ?

No beings ever had such an impact on him in the past, and he was sure none would in his future  either. And at this moment, he knew. He understood that you were the one he had been waiting for, all these years. He no longer felt like something was missing. He felt content for the first time in a very long time.

« - Is this really how it went ? Love at first sight ?

- Of course, why would I ever lie to you love ? You already had me wrapped around your finger at the time, but i only fell harder when i got to know you.

His words made your stomach twist with pleasure. He knew how to make  you flustered like it was still day one.

« - I don’t know. It just feels too good to be true, you know ?

- I know yeah, I tell myself the same thing everyday. What kind of God would send  his most beautiful angel to someone like me ?

- don’t say things like this about yourself. You didn’t choose this life. »

he didn’t answer and instead just nuzzled his head in the crook of your neck. Your smile faltered.

« - Don’t do this Kyle.

- Do what ?

- Try to push me away.

- I’m not –

- I know what you’re capable of, I’m well aware. But i also know you’d never try to hurt me. »

He sighted before answering.

« You’re just proving my point, you’re too good for me love. »

his response brought your lips up once again :

« - I love you Kyle.

- I am deeply in love with you too y/n »

[skztea]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ What SKZ members value most in a partner? -> req by lovely anon!

✦ bang chan ੈ✩‧₊˚

-> companionship

• i feel like companionship is extremely important for chan, which is something that his partner would have. Being away from his family for 3 years+ is tough, despite all the smiles and giggles he plastered on his face. There will definitelt be times when he felt disappointed, hopeless, empty, exhausted as most of the things are piling on him. He is the parental figure of the group, where he has to carry multiple responsibilities at once while being alone in korea without next of kins around.

• As his partner, she understood all his circumstances and she makes sure she will provide the most companionship for him as possible. Not necessarily be beside him 24/7, which is highly impossible since he is living in the dorm but she will consistently check up on him, making sure he is eating his meals, getting enough sleep, lending her listening ear whenever needed etc to make him feel engulfed safely in her arms. There isn’t anyone whom he can really confide in as his members are heavily tied with career and his family are miles away, the only person he can resort to is his partner. Being unconditionally by his side gives him lots of securities, at least he won’t feel afraid if he falls, because he knows someone else is there to catch him. Of course, he would also reciprocate a good amount of time with his partner as well which makes it a 2-way healing relationship.

“Im so grateful to have you by my side, unconditionally accompanying me and providing the most comfort when i am at my worst,” he breathed into the phone as he stared at the ceiling, smiling at the image of you floating in his brain.

“Hey, isn’t what lovers are for? Of course im always here for you,” you chuckled softly at the other end, causing the latter cheek’s flushing as he placed his palm over his palpitating heart, also chuckling at how you managed to make his heart race even after years.

“You are very clear of my soft spots for you.”

✦ minho ੈ✩‧₊˚

-> trust

• scorpio men…the first thing that pops in my mind is -> spiky. I mean i can see my dad’s shadow on minho 🤧 because both of them are scorpios and both are really spiky and sarcastic on the exterior and they hates, injustice. So i guess i can assume that minho really hates hinderance/betrayal from people he is close to, especially his partner. I would see him valuing trust and transperancy very much as he dislikes people who doubt him without a valid reason. To me i feel that trust is like one of the most fundamental yet crucial values that a relationship should possess.

• he would value trust alot from his partner because he feels honoured when she believes in him. It’s not that she put all the eggs in one basket but she felt that if she has chosen someone as her partner/lover, she would want to have faith in him, in whatever things he does, in the feelings he has for her and how he will juggle his career and relationship. Some partners would overthink if their companion will seek other relationships when they are not physically together to kill temporary boredom but as his partner, it isn’t even the case. The more she overthinks, the more it will happen. So might as well she just gives him the trust, letting him do his runway. Trust doesn’t need to be expressed frequently but by the tone and attitude, minho will understand that his partner is trusting him ultimately in every aspects he does -> which makes him trust her in the same way she did.

“Why do you trust me so much? Are you not worried if i will go back against the will one day?” Your lover gently carassed your arms as he backhugged you, face nudging into the crook of your neck as he teased.

“Why would i be scared? I trust you because i trust my decision of choosing you, as well as knowing your personality for years,” you speaked in no doubt, making the latter giggled softly as he hugged you tighter.

“Damn, you always know how to make me fall for you all over again.”

✦ changbin ੈ✩‧₊˚

-> commitment

• i can see that changbin values loyalty and commitment alot, like alot. He always emits that sense of brotherhood among the members and i believe that it applies in relationship too. Once he is committed, he will really put his partner at the tip of his heart and if ever the partner betrays him, wow, he will be a volcano that erupts explosively (may even hunt you down and teach you a lesson before letting you go). Like he will think that if the partner don’t wanna commit to the relationship why even get into it at the first place? Solve yourself before finding someone to solve it for you.

• highly appreciative of how committed his partner is. Doesn’t need to be all times on the line or text, but knowing how to make her presence when needed makes him elated. Things like visiting him in his dorm, buying him food at times, accompanying him physically or virtually, supporting him before his stages etc. Most importantly, knowing how to draw a decent line with other opposite genders. He will be extremely touched to see his partner appearing in almost all the events, sitting one side quietly and delicately taking beautiful pictures of him and sharing with him later. There isn’t a need to say much, but just enjoying each other’s presence no matter when and where is what makes him loyal to his partner too. Both knowing that they can’t meet all the time but still doing well on their life makes them cherish each other more and fall into each other’s arms when they need it makes the relationship priceless.

“I didn’t expect you to come!” Changbin almost crashed into your arms as you went to the dressing room to visit him.

“Of course i have to! It’s been so long since you had a physical fansign event and i just want to visit and congradulate you bub,” you reciprocated the hug as he giggled foolishly.

“You are the best babe, always appearing when i think of you.”

✦ hyunjin ੈ✩‧₊˚

-> empathy

• well it’s well known that hyunjin is attracted to someone who has lots of empathy and is able to put herself into his shoes while he shares his worries. I think this is an absolute value that everyone should have instead of being self-centred. Furthermore, Hyunjin is someone who is extremely sensitive and fragile on the inner, he needs a partner that is able to understand him and his concerns that are never shared with others before. He may like someone who knows how to be grateful for life and her surroundings, being a living reminder for him that humanity still exist.

• he values this because firstly it’s hard for him to open up his heart, spilling his truthful thoughts to someone with the fear of hurting anyone close to him. There are countless times when he wished he was braver to speak to other members, but the hurted face makes him gulp down all the words. Also afraid to bother his parents, the only person he can be vulnerable with is his partner. And that is why empathy is very important. Being an idol is easily complimented or bashed, in just a couple of clicks or punches of the keyboard warriors. His partner have to be someone who is able to stand in his perspective and understand his situation, lending a solid pillar for him to rely on. If his partner isn’t able to create that safe space for hin then he will only be drowning instead of redempting himself. However, getting him to speak up for the first time is as tough as hard rock stone, but once he feels secured to spill he will not be able to stop, because he already places all the bet on her.

“Talking to you always makes me feel so much better, you are a cure to my heart,” planting a soft kiss on your forehead, he rubbed slow circles on your cheeks as his face is inches away from yours.

“Hey, don’t always bottle up things in yourself, telling someone is better than suffocating on your own,” wiping his strand of tears away, you adored by looking at his redden eyes, still holding that youth of innocence in his eyes.

“I love you,” he breathed before leaning in to meet your lips with his.

✦ jisung ੈ✩‧₊˚

-> accountability

• jisung…hmm being someone who is kinda ‘problematic’ in a sense where he becomes slightly destructive during arguments or conflicts, he will have nothing to say but salute his partner for being extremely accountable. We all know that every member said jisung has issues with each of them and how other members tend to approach him first, i feel that he will take a longer time to cool down as his partner. Nothing wrong for sure, everybody has their own ways of resolving conflicts. But for jisung i feel that he will look up to his partner who is accountable for her own actions as he may not have the courage to do so at times.

• Initiating a chill conversation after a fight or apologising first during a fight doesn’t mean that one lost. It is more about how she cared for his wellbeing, worried that he will be too affected by the conflict that impacted his work. If she is in the wrong, she definitely will own it up and apologise. Even if she don’t, but she will make sure that both of them have come to a consensus before life moves on. Instead of starting a cold war or carelessly saying break ups all the time, his partner will make sure he sees her perspective as well and piecing things up again, which is something that jisung may not have it. His partner will be someone that allows jisung to grow, learning to how to better resolve conflicts with others. A handful of partners will tend to accomodate or avoid conflict but his partner won’t. It is important to let him see the impact of his and her actions and how both of them can work hand in hand to understand and cherish each other after every fights, and that’s what make jisung enlightened as a human, son, friend, colleague and lover.

“You know, i always feel so bad that you have to be the first one to step up to talk to me even though it’s my fault, but you don’t blame me for it,” the latter teared as he hid his face within his palms, shameful to look at you.

“Hun, it doesn’t matter who stepped up first but what’s important is that, we learnt each time we argue, we cherish each time we fight…there are no perfect relationships and all we need is, consensus,” ruffling his head, he embraced you into his arms as he whispered multiple “im sorrys” into your ear.

✦ felix ੈ✩‧₊˚

-> vulnerability

• vulnerability is one of the most essential values as well. If you are not vulnerable to your partner, then to who else? A partner is there to support and love you when you are down and vice versa. Felix being someone who is sentimental would greatly adore his partner being all vulnerable infront of him, so that he feels the responsibility to keep you happy or happier each day you date him. Felix is the kind that really hold his partner tight and close to his heart, almost spending all his free time texting or talking to her to make sure she is doing fine.

• since he is someone who cares very much about people he loves, he would want to he a solid support pillar for his partner. He will take his time to get to know her, learning about her successes and struggles before meeting him, especially if she has any past traumatic relationship so he knows what to do to avoid hurting you. Being vulnerable will pull each other alot closer and interwining the hearts, which is something that felix finds it romantic about. He probably imagined endless times how his partner would lean on his chest and sharing worries or insecurities, and he would reassure her until she believes in him and light again. It also made him feel honoured that his partner trusts him fully and hoping he will make a good presence in her life, be the one that pulls her out of the muddy water that she choked in for long.

“Lix, you know i really hate burdening people with my own issues, but you seem like the one who enjoy hearing them the most,” fiddling his fingers, you looked at that latter who has glowy eyes staring at you for the past 15 mins.

“Babe, we are couples for a reason, i want to be someone you can fall back on and someone that helps you to be successful,” gently caressing your strands of hair as his eyes gazed across your features.

“You can always rely on me,” planting a soft kiss on your forehead, he teased you with another eskimo kiss that made the both of you giggle.

✦ seungmin ੈ✩‧₊˚

-> communication

• seungmin just gives me that vibe of being a good communicator. Like even though he looks like an introvert introvert (like all quiet and such) but i feel he is someone who is very patient when comes to conversing with his loved ones. The need of expressing how you feel about things is so crucial but deadly as people tends to derive it in another manner. If there is no communication in the world then people will never understand and support each other, not even mentioning giving and receiving love. Communicating doesn’t always have to be talking about serious issues, but casual conversations are good enough to have a gauge on how other party is coping.

• he would appreciate that from his partner because he feels that it is rare for people to be straightforward and honest with their opinions these days. People just tend to put on a facade or fake a smile to brush off things that things they don’t agree with or hurted them instead of truthfully expressing that those comments actually make them upset. As his partner it is important for her to let him know that what are the things they can work on rather than bottling up inside and ending by exploding all at once. Communication is about understanding and empathising with one another and if everyone avoids that, then what is the point for getting together? He really appreciates how his partner will get him to sit down, focusing on her as she depicts her thoughts. A relationship is like a ping pong, where both parties need to learn to reciprocate, communicate, understand each other.

“Im not good at mentioning things at times but you complemented me so well,” walking down along the paveway, both of you are licking the ice cream on each hands and throwing loving glares at each other.

“Of course, i know what is running in your mind,” winking playfully at the taller figure and lightly shaking his bigger palms.

“We fit each other like yin yang,” patting the top of your head gently, he retrieved your hand back in his.

✦ jeongin ੈ✩‧₊˚

-> respect

• lastly, i feel that jeongin values respect alot. Being an aquarius men, they usually prefer independence more, be it themselves or their partners. The respect given to each other, knowing that each other needs that private space as well is vital, making it a bonus that his partner possesses. For sure, he dislikes people who are clingy and mushy, prefably someone who is more rational and knowing how to limit her contact with him. Furthermore, he would love someone who respects his opinion and such instead of brushing them off. Validating one even if you don’t agree still shows you care for the person and hope to find a consensus.

• Independence that i mentioned before is not supposed to be inclining towards the negative aspect of it. Well, most people tend to perceive relationships as: couples relying on each other. However, we need to learn that life still goes on and every individual needs to take care of their own before they support others. If both were to constantly dependent on each other, both will burnout. His partner will remember this theory by heart and knowing that she needs to play her own part, including him. Everyone has their own boundaries and the simplest way is to respect each other instead of making yourself more superior. Jeongin will greatly appreciate how his partner will acknowledge his words even if she don’t exactly understand, but giving him the space to do the things he need. She will not always expect jeongin to give in to her, but more like both getting to know each other’s pov and become closer and stronger.

“I was afraid to get into a relationship because im worried if im not able to commit as much, my partner will be upset, but being with you erases all my worries away because you understood my concern and respected me,” your boyfriend who never backhugged you before broke his record.

“Jeongin…i get what you are worried about, because i priortises your happiness and comfortness over anything…like what you have done to me too,” grabbing onto his hands lightly, you assured him as he sniffed at your shampoo scent that lingers along your hair.

“Thank you for respecting everything i did, you are like my soulmate understanding all my needs even without me saying it.”

-> oh my goodness i finally finished this after doing 4 drafts. Not even kidding, 4 drafts. I was concerned with my work so i kept scraping off but this is it already i’ve tried my best ✋🏻🥲 | come join my 200 followers event here!

m.list I | a.bout

© skztea — all rights reserved. No plagarising, editing, claiming as own without permission.

[grewlikefancyflowers]

in case you're feeling too alone in this view, I agree wwx went to that conference to vent his anger. Yeah sure he had the right to crash the "kill wwx party" and zero sympathies for the guy who got his arrow thown back at him nor for his brother whose neck was broken (nor for anyone who went there? lol), but he DID go there to escalate things further and ended up participating in their endless cycle of vengeance (contrast him hearing abt himself and jyl being badmouthed which is hugely upsetting vs him hearing some nobodies claiming they'd teach him a lesson right before the conference), which he did not on his right mind and ended up making things worse for himself and everyone involved

yeah ! thank you for sending this. i think people maybe can't reconcile that fact that while wwx did have plenty of righteous reasons to be there, he wasn't there for righteous reasons.

i mean, we can see that in the build up to nightless city, wwx's emotional state is completely wrecked, and it culminates in him taking this all out of everyone else...

'He asked himself, Just why have I been locking myself up on Burial Mound all these years? Why do I have to go through all this? Why did I choose to walk this path in the beginning? Why did I make myself like this? What do others see me as? Just what have I gained? Have I gone mad? Have I gone mad? Have I gone mad?!'

'He should’ve understood long ago. No matter what he did, not a single good word would come out of these people’s mouths. He was cultivating the crooked path either way, so what exactly did the years of persistence mean? What exactly were they for?'

'Wei WuXian had already lost his judgement. He was already half-mad, half-unconscious. All evil was being augmented by him. He felt that everyone loathed him and he loathed everyone as well.'

this is a pretty far cry from 'let the self judge right and wrong, let gains and losses go uncommented on' and 'if there's hope then let's move'. he's not at all in his right mind here, he's not at all acting like himself. he was pushed to this point, i can't imagine rejoicing to see him like that ??

even almost immediately after nightless city, in the three months between then and the siege on burial mounds, we see that wwx already makes decisions opposite to what he did at nightless city. rather than venting his grief about wn & wq's deaths on the jianghu, he instead builds them a cenotaph. rather than using the yin hufu to against those who have wronged him, he instead sets about destroying it so that no one can use it again. by the time wwx died, he was at peace with himself & what he had done, that's why he's so completely over it by the time the second siege rolls around, and why he never became a resentful ghost despite everything.

still, none of this changes the fact that everyone had gathered at nightless city with the intention of killing wwx, and every one of them had it coming.

[dnangelic]

his head shakes and as he smiles the words softly seem to spill out from between his lips . ' i might have gotten a little discouraged , ' [ ... ] tested , really , by some doubts that could have only belonged to the lonely mind of a solitary outcast , one prone to fretting over sudden separations and unspoken , perhaps-for-the-better finalities : you can choose to believe in n // or the idea that they've abandoned you for something better . ' but when i imagined you trying your hardest to come to meet me , while all i really had to do was wait here and have faith in you [ ... ] it felt easier . '

he had stayed , maybe , in part to prove to himself just how stupid his own fears should have been . the woods around them had long been silent witness to the ever-thickening knot of their bond . time , woven in and around itself like a daisy chain , or the clumsy floral crowns he had set like crooked halos onto n and zorua's heads in the past , sweet and ripe with the scent of fresh berries and leafy dew . to the present lack of pokemon's presence , daisuke can only nod . he understood [ ... ] dark too , having judged the environment safe for themselves upon arrival , had loudly announced his plans to sleep before allowing the sound of his voice to fade and vanish . well acquainted with his other self's temperamental behavior , there seemed to be no need to rouse the second , still-slumbering consciousness within him even now , especially without prior demand to be awoken upon n's arrival . for just a little while , his body would continue to solely belong to himself , no matter the dawn and nocturnal set of his form , the uncontrollable influence of his curse --- a convenience when the sight of the bracelet makes his heart leap . his eyes don't withhold any wonder ; to hear that there were three , each a match , is what plainly pushes him beyond the brink of any transformation .

' made ... ' one arm cradles his small trove of snacks close to his chest . the other extends itself and its palm outwards with immense care , the niwa hoping to have his own bracelet willingly set into it rather than greedily commit any sudden phantom snatch . ' you made these ? ' when he smiles , his lips tug all the way back to flash the sharp tips of his teeth . the word made has been expressed as if it were a miracle , as if the other might as well have created newfound life itself . he's never had anyone make something for him [ ... ] that wasn't a trap , a weapon , or prison cell . ' it's so cute , ' he laughs a little , a cherub's giggle even in the low , devilish set of dark's voice . ' it's amazing . you're so talented , n ! will you show me how you did it , too ?! ' bright sincerity , without a single drop of envy despite his own natural clumsiness and craftsman's ineptitude . and yet --- his expression still dampens . something else turns his thoughts bittersweet . ' i love it . i've never had anything like this before . if it were up to me , i'd never take it off so that i could never lose it . only , if i did that [ ... ] there are always cameras everywhere ... ' and surely the team plasma grunts ; n's father would be able to put one , plus one , plus one together did any of them decide to pay a little closer attention .

     the flicker of immediate repose in the other’s demeanor is not lost on them,     so palpable they feel as if they extend a hand they might nearly touch it,     catch a faint trace of the apprehensive residue left in the wake of newfound jubilation.     it’s vaguely contagious,     elation so magnetizing it assists in quelling the guilt that had begun to wrap ‘round chest——     if nothing else their remorse is all consuming,     picks away at the remainders of their fragmented heart,     or what remains of it,     after it’s been maimed over     &͟.     over,     fractured     &͟.     dejected.     (     at least,     here,     they don’t feel the need to play the part of a puppet torn asunder,     subdued by invisible strings of their own longing.     here it’s okay to be themself,     where the moon washes them over in its adoration,     sickly sweet.     )     ❝     it wasn’t my intention to worry you,     ❞     nor had they expected to be so devastatingly sidetracked——     one errand after another,     the repetitive inquiries     &͟.     questioning from team plasma grunt after team plasma grunt     /     never ending,     a slow descent into madness.     ❝     i     [   . . .   ]     got caught up in something.     part of me thought you wouldn't be here waiting,     considering how late i am.     ❞

     &͟.     arceus knows they thought they were never going to make it,     that their day was never going to end     &͟.     their plan would be foiled,     subjected to the agonizing torture of being confined to their room once more.     as always.     zorua’s sacrifice would surely be rewarded in the near future,     were it not for her they would certainly still be trapped,     back in that stupid castle with those stupid grunts swarming around them,     like bees to honey.

     uncouth as it is,     the mention of a gift in kind brings about the utmost pique of interest,     something akin to the immature wonder in youth,     of a child no older than five——     joy makes its home in every inch of their skin,     fills it to near bursting     &͟.     were it anyone else they would be quick to rectify the undeniable awe of fascination within the depths of emerald hues but here they feel secure enough to lay their heart bare,     in the company of someone they can call a friend,     wholeheartedly,     for the first time in the entirety of their miserable existence.     (     no secrets.     everything laid out on their figurative table.     )     ❝     i intended to bring zorua here,     i know how fond of her you are,     ❞     &͟.     how fond of him she is in turn.     ❝     but     [   . . .   ]     plans changed.     i wouldn't have been able to see you,     were it not for her.     ❞     an honorable hecatomb,     now she must bear the aggravating lashings of words from those around them.     if it means much at all,     she is hardly as affected by the vicious comments as n is.     ❝     ah,     yes,     it's     [   . . .   ]     ❞     rummaging through bag is instantenous,     the soft,     'aha!'     that follows once they've grasped at something obscured by the fabric at large——     a couple more fleeting seconds     &͟.     at last,     the retrieval     &͟.     appearance of aforementioned gift.     ❝     this.     it's meant to be a bracelet,     it's much too big for zorua so for her it was made into a necklace.     it's for the two of you to match,     with me,     i've made my own too.     ❞

[veenxys]

Dancing to some silly music at the crack of dawn + Shinso? 👉👈 (when you have time/inspiration to write of course!) - 🌺

⋆ ♡̷ .ﾟ prompt! dancing to some silly music at the crack of dawn

⋆ ♡̷ .ﾟ prompt list <3

shinso's soft and gentle fingers gliding smoothly over your body makes you snuggle even more on the bed; like it was a sweet dream that you didn't want to wake up from. you hear him let out a low, soft laugh and, reluctantly, you open your eyes. he smiles and greets you with a lazy "hello" as he continues to run his fingertips gently over your skin, as if he's afraid of breaking you.

you smile back and stare at him for a few seconds. but your smile quickly fades when you realize that shinso hadn't slept. well, how do you know? it's easy to notice, the darkest circles under his eyes, the messy hair because he shifted in bed over and over again as he tried to look for the sleep that never came.

he notices your expression changing and comes closer to you, wrapping his arms around you and kissing the top of your head. his scent invades all your thoughts; and it's like you're in heaven, being held by an angel that would never let you fall.

"you know i'm trying," he says huskily, hinting that yes, he's been trying very hard to have a healthy sleep routine, but sometimes he just can't. of course you understand that, and he is very grateful for that.

"it's okay.. i just wish you had woken me up so i could help you with something" you say as you put your face in the crook of his neck, snuggling into the heat of his body.

"sorry..but well, i don't think there's anything you could do to help me. you already do so much.." he says sincerely before kissing the top of your head again.

you mumble something incomprehensible because honestly you can't barely hear him, the sleep and comfort you tried to ward off were now taking over you.

"hey sleepyhead. you're going to be late" he says smiling as he realizes you've fallen asleep on him. you grumble and he pulls out of the hug only to come face to face with you. he smiles and lightly caresses your cheek with his thumb before leaving soft, slightly lingering kisses on your forehead, temples, cheek, nose, chin, and finally your lips. each kiss with a pure and genuine meaning that only you understood. and you smile.

you promise him you'll get up in five minutes, but five minutes turns into ten, fifteen... and against your will, you get up.

the two of you exchange kisses and soft glances as you make the bed together, working in unison as you share a soft, peaceful atmosphere, but you know it won't last long when you see him reaching for his headphones and cell phone.

he always does this when he needs to cheer himself up to start the day or try to fall asleep when sleep doesn't come, but by the look on his face, you know he wants to make the day worthwhile.

he smiles and, wordlessly, hands you one of the headphones while he chooses a song. you didn't know that shinso was listening to this style of music until he put it on, a confused and surprised expression appears on your face and he smiles at you.

"what? can't i change my style a little?" he says laughing as he wraps his arms around you, slowly starting what was supposed to be a lively and exciting dance.

your cheeks hurt from smiling so much; the sight of him looking at your feet like he's afraid to step on them, and the cute, embarrassed smile he has on his face when he looks up and sees you looking at him.. everything in that little moment makes your heart race, make your love for him grow and shine even more.

[loneworldgazer]

omg you said that you don't enjoy (?) write haikyuu anymore bc you are in another fandoms........ but if you can pls pls pls i want to request haikyuu!!!!

gender neutral headcannon — shiratorizawa/nekoma/inarizaki with emotionless manager (face expression), but caring (acts of service and words of affirmation love language)

i am really sorry if my request bothering you........ it would be fine if you say no, i understand!!!!

thank you for your hard work i really appreciate it!!!! take care of yourself, ily!!!!

(sorry for my bad grammar, english is not my native language)

Emotionless!Manager

nekoma and shiratorizawa x gen!reader

a/n: nono i'm okay with haikyuu requests but i just don't write it that often, eitherway enjoy!

(sorry for late response and thank you for all the sweet messages💕💕 also i think i'll do inarizaki in the future if i can.. or not??)

Nekoma

they don't mean any offense but they look at you weird sometimes

when you joined the team, being fresh and all they couldn't pinpoint your personality

you were emotionless that you scare them when you had no reaction to certain things they do

kenma understood you and saw the bliss of things you've done like lending a hand for help or giving snacks to your classmates

this one time, he felt nervous and embarassingly he finds the action of him shaking, hands clasped together to stop his anxiety (it's not bb, don't worry)

your hands reached out for him and warmly squeezed it, softly asking him if he needs some time of his mind and a conversation to distract whatever he's experiencing

his heart leaped, startled by your sudden actions and he accidently squeezed you too hard making you wince

an akward apology he mustered to you but you whispered to him that it's alright, you sat him down and asked him to do breathing exercises

that moment he felt that you were purely understood by the rest of the team because you just have a hard time with emotions and explain it better by actions

so he quickly corrects his team mates' muttering with how nice you actually are

his team mates were taken aback by how well he seemed to know you but kenma just responded nonchalantly that there were obvious moments you helped the team with care

from that time on, they examined you

it was obnoxious.. but you let it slide it was irritating, it was endearing.. but still irritating

but they catch on so they also give you things in return

one would give you small trinkets and plushies and say most of it reminds him of you (he gives a lot so you wonder how many times they would remind him of you)

if anyone would ask what's with the amount of stuffies on your desk, you would say a dear person gave it to you (though it looks like multiple confessions lead to the junk littering the table)

one would give you snacks like how you gave the whole team time to time

from little sweets to freshly baked bread, he would give them to you or share

he likes the small moments of you enjoying what he gave you while you slowly chewed on whatever's in your hands

one would lend a helping hand eventhough you reject his help nicely, he would still worm himself over to you

like carrying chairs, setting the net with you, readjusting the positions they were on your little clipboard you used to brainstorm wuth them and etc

noticing all of them doing this in return for what you did for them makes you crack out a small crooked smile

their hearts combusted if you would ever personally direct it to them

it warms you when they choose to do sugary actions, like rewarding you for your hard work

(you deserve it.)

Shiratorizawa

"you're just like our captain!" (guess who said that)

ushijima tries his best to warmly welcome you in the team and he feels grateful to have you on it when you immediately rush over to do your tasks immediately

the team notices your lack of reaction and they guessed everything in the book of why you would do it

their main thought was difficulty in emotions and they kinda struggled to approach you when they want to ask for help

goshiki was the main thing in which they could see that you were infact a big softie finding trouble to communicate as you help the poor boy with his homework and studies

that's why study groups are a thing now, to help you back (which you had to admit, there were some things you couldn't really understand in class) and you sighed gratefully that you had the boys to help you

one would leave sticky notes everywhere, telling you that you're doing a great work and doodling in every note he gives you

trying to show appreciation to what he does, you would put a board up, putting up his sticky notes on it that if he sees it, he would add more (stop him, he's a menace)

if guitar playing isn't a reward then what is it???

tendou would annoy semi to bring out his guitar at end of studying to play off his new songs

you would speak up and say that his voice was pretty that you nearly knock the boy off his feet (not because of tendou punching him the stomach for being a show off but because of him being a showoff)

it was like a captivating lullaby you would listen to every night if you want to flatter him more and make the whole group go crazy and go "oOoOOo" at him

one was a tough cookie to crack but tell him that he's a hella good player and this man is on his knees

he lives off your compliments and praises that he just has a nasty feeling in his heart he can't settle that you were just raising his ego so he blurt it out one day

asking if what you say is true

"huh??" if that isn't an honest response to his heart then idk what is

he just pats your shoulder and nods, saying his thank you, countinuing with practise

the whole team needed validation with how they're playing with the constant barks from the coach (it did helped them but hearing a more softer "good job" calms them down more than an old strict dog on a leash on their butts to haunt them if they fail)

they would sometimes look back at you and you would give a tiny thumbs up they would smile at and get back into the game to get more of your words by the end of the game

"you're just like our captain, a big softie with a bigger heart!" (guess who said that again)

a small eyeroll from you made the whole team laugh even earning a tiny nod from the captain from his best friend's words

a big softie.. you smile at random times remembering the words said by one of your dear friends on the team you manage

[aenaxes-moved]

momentum

[hunter x afab!reader] hunter thinks it's a good idea for you to learn hand-to-hand. and if it's a way for you to see him sweaty, sleeveless, and in close quarters, who are you to turn down the perfect opportunity?

warnings: unprotected vaginal sex

w/c: 4.7k

a/n: i'm a simple creature—i see the sexual tension of hand-to-hand combat, and i am brought low. also the marauder has a cargo hold for literary purposes, now. anyways enjoy my first nsfw fic on this blog. reposting bc tumblr censored me :/

“Try again,” Hunter orders as he crouches down beside where you lie sprawled, chest heaving and arms limp on the training mat. “Just like I showed you: trap the wrist, lock the arm, twist and throw.”

“Unlike you,” you wheeze, struggling to lift your head off the floor, “I’m not exactly built to throw people around.” You forego your weak attempt to get up, and you swear you feel your teeth rattle as the back of your head hits the mat with a dull thud.

You turn your head, meeting the sergeant's piercing gaze with a weary half-grimace half-grin. There’s a glimmer of amusement dancing in his eyes—maybe incredulity—that he might be training a half-fledged jedi in the brutally graceful art of floorslamming an opponent over a shoulder while the others had taken Omega on a trip to meet the natives. It’s something you should know well, having spent your youth under the wild and unrelenting martial acrobatics of master Voss, but at the end of the day, you would choose swordplay over brute physicality without hesitation.

Especially if you’re facing off against an opponent who can and has hefted you high above his head and practically launched you across the training mat.

If Hunter’s amused at all by this knowledge, he only makes it known with a huff.

“Empire’s out for your head; you need to learn to fight in more ways than your fancy jedi training. That includes hand-to-hand just in case you lose your lightsaber. Again.”

“That was once, Hunter!” you whine, warmth spreading across your cheeks. But he’s right. Loathe as you are to admit it, no amount of force pushing would have gotten you out of that mess on Onderon, and it was a miracle (otherwise known as Echo) that you’d found your lightsaber at all.

It’s an embarrassing memory and, deeper down, a dangerous one that could have ended in more than stray blaster fire. Petulant as you would like to be, Hunter has a point. So you reach up, flapping your hand about until you feel Hunter’s hand wrap around yours, callused and firm, and yank you up to your feet. You stumble as you regain your footing, but as soon as you’ve collected your bearings, you’re shaking your hands out and bouncing on the tips of your toes.

“Fuck it. Let me try again.”

“Do you want me to go slower on the approach?” Hunter asks, this time, a sure note of playful teasing dancing over his tongue. The corners of his lips curl up, imperceptible to most, but you’ve flown long enough with the crew to pick up on his slight giveaways. You narrow your eyes, fixing him with an accusatory frown.

“‘Imps won’t slow down for you y/n,’” you parrot his words with a sour expression, begrudging theatrics complete with an exaggerated eye roll.

Hunter laughs, but he’s already drawing back into a low crouch, arms raised and muscles coiled, ready to strike. You take the brief moment of clarity between your warm up and readying stance to admire him, his hair tied with his bandana, piercing eyes set in a razor focus as his chest rises and falls, even, steady. The sharp clarity is made complete, authentic, with his garb. Having swapped his standard blacks for a sleeveless top, a sheer veil of sweat glimmers brushed over the toned muscle rippling under his skin. It’s an appealing point of motivation, a reward for the small price of being thrown around for the past hour.

“You’re learning,” Hunter smiles, small and crooked, but a smile that breaks past his stolid stoicism nonetheless. “Attagirl.”

Your heart flutters, and you lunge.

Two rapid steps, and you’re meeting Hunter in the middle as he rushes towards you. Right foot, anchor heel, pivot, and the sharp wind of his arm shooting forward nearly knocks the breath from your lungs as it just barely brushes past your cheek.

He’s fast. But you’re faster, you challenge, and you shoot your left arm up, closing your grip with your right hand and trapping his forearm in your hands just beneath the hem of his glove. And when you find secure purchase, confident enough that he can’t counter, you yank with a sharp, vindictive shout. For the first time today, your grip holds.

You feel him roll over your shoulder, guided by your hand, compelled by gravity, and you’ve won. After all the blocks and parries and attacks-turned-scrambling-defenses, you’ve got Hunter exactly where you want him. Hunter may have size, bulk, experience—well, everything other than the Force—that you don’t, but if he’s taught you anything during your time with the batch it’s that timing is king.

You whoop as you feel his back roll off yours, squeezing your eyes shut as you claim your victory into the empty cargo hold.

You forget, however, the unspoken and very important step of letting go.

As soon as the split-second of simple victory flashes through you, you yelp, pulled off your feet and centre of balance flung off to the far reaches of the room. You’re reduced to an ungraceful flail of limbs and panicked disorientation as you fall, bracing yourself for an imminent collision and a sure promise of a bruise the day after. But instead of the forgiving, plasticky foam of the floor, you land with a soft oof on something else, harder than the mat, damp, bony…?

When you open your eyes, you’re propped up on one elbow, your other shoulder dipped close against Hunter’s chest, and your nose just a breath away from his collar, and, Maker help you, you can see his collarbones, sharp and clean through his blacks, rising and falling rhythmically with his heavy, straining breaths. You lift your head just in time to meet Hunter’s eyes, lightly curtained by one single swath of perfectly mussed stray hair, pupils blown wide with pride, wonder, and—

Shit.

“Uh, yay me?” you offer weakly, hoping you can blame the tremble in your voice on bone-deep exhaustion, not the blooming heat roiling in your gut.

“Yeah,” Hunter says, eyes trained on yours, steady and still.

It doesn’t take force sensitivity to feel the tension buzzing high in what little space separates your faces, the boundaries of playful sportsmanship bowing under the weight of testing curiosity, circling, prodding. The breath that passes your lips quivers, of which you’re only aware when you see Hunter’s eyes flick briefly to your lips. He lingers a moment, and you swallow hard, almost audibly, when you catch a flash of his tongue darting over his lower lip.

It might be an adrenaline high—his dilated pupils, the wild thumping of your heart against your ribs. High velocity combat and being thrown flat onto your back would do that.

You hope it isn’t.

The silence is enough to steal the sound from your tongue, just low breathing as you hover above him. It demands to be broken, something to be the first push back into the rhythm of which you have become so accustomed, the comfortable banter and competition devoid of anything more than meaningless flirting. Because for his ruggedly handsome looks, his commandeering presence, an aura that had men and women sending him drinks from across the bar, you had never let yourself seriously entertain the idea of being able to have him.

It’s hard to entertain attraction, much less romance, when you and the batch are high priority on the Empire’s list to shoot on sight, but the possibility has kept you awake at night, fingers shoved between your thighs while he sleeps two doors down. The fantasy of having, breathing him in like air, makes you feel alive, makes you feel the rare and fleeting feeling of safety. You, exiled jedi. Him, one of millions, the dedicated soldier sworn to a cause.

And yet, here you are.

Hunter lifts one hand from the floor, reaching up to brush the hair from your eyes, and you find yourself having to bite down on the inside of your cheek to keep from turning your head and nuzzling into his palm, from pushing close and staying, indulging. And while your mind blurs in the frantic flurry of fighting it, he gives in freely, turning his wrist to run his gloved thumb over your jaw. It’s the softest you’ve ever found standard issue blacks to feel, but more importantly, it’s the closest he’s ever been.

“Yay you,” he whispers.

Hunter leans forward, sliding his hand across the side of your neck, his thumb soft at your ear as he curls his fingers into your hair and closes the distance. One moment there’s a vast breadth of space between you; the next, you feel Hunter’s nose brushing over your cheek, his breath ghosting over your skin for that last moment of separation. Then you’re moving with him, meeting his lips with soft motions pleading for more as you slide one hand up into his hair and press your chests flush.

He doesn’t taste quite like your dreams, all smooth, sweet freshness dancing over your tongue. Instead, there is raw exhaustion and strain bitter and heady on his skin as he licks over your lower lip. But no matter; it is real and present and Hunter all the same.

The training room silence is broken when he nudges a knee between your legs, pressing close between the want pooling low in your belly, as you barely manage to muffle a whimper into his mouth, breathy and high as you break away to gasp. Hunter grants you that moment of rest, and he’s pulling you back down against him again, holding you tight.

“I’ll stop if you want,” he mumbles against your lips. “We stop, and we forget this ever happened. But.” He pauses to nip at your lips. “You give me the word, and we take this as far as you want, y/n. Understood?”

You nod, too busy chasing his tongue to feel his gaze fixed on you. And, as always, your blissful ignorance does not escape Hunter’s watchful eye. You whine as you feel his fingers close around your chin and lift, pulling away just enough that you can see his dark eyes steady on yours.

“I need to hear you say it, sweetheart.”

“Please,” you whimper, reduced to little more than pleading submission, doe-eyed and dreamy as he slowly runs his thumb over your lip. “Want you, Hunter. Need you.”

“Attagirl.”

He makes a noise that sounds like quiet laughter, but all you care about is that he’s nuzzling against your skin and holding you close. Hunter kisses you with a trembling restraint that you practically feel vibrating under his touch, the excitement of being able to have, the roiling fear of intimacy, vulnerable and open under your palms.

It’s something you know well. You feel the same.

“We should really wash up,” he murmurs into your mouth.

“‘Fresher’s big enough for two,” you say a bit cheekily.

“You really want it all, huh?” Hunter chuckles, squeezing the back of your neck as he presses a fleeting kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Never get anything if you don’t ask,” you smile against his lips.

“Can’t disappoint the lady, then, can I?” he grins, dropping his head back down onto the training mat. You sigh, resting your cheek on his collar for a single breath before you feel him shift beneath you, pulling you into his lap as he sits upright. Hunter offers you a final peck, a promise for more in just a short while.

You silently promise you’ll return to the hold come morning and clean up the mats before Echo can chew you out for any sloppiness, but cleanliness is the least of your concerns as you stumble with Hunter towards the threshold, all soft laughter and kisses strayed off their mark. Whatever concerns about anything other than the bliss of the now are even more obscured as the refresher doors slide shut behind you. You laugh as Hunter twists out of his blacks, which almost has you tripping out of your own, but he’s there to catch you, sturdy arms and warm skin to pull you into the stall and under a startling shock of cold water.

Maybe it’s that brief shock of cold before the showerhead runs warm that offers you a moment of clarity, the space and quiet to realize where you stand and take in the man before you. You’re no stranger to proximity, having spent more than one mission squeezed up against Hunter’s side, but closeness doesn’t begin to describe where you stand now, bared to each other beyond simple undress.

A smattering of scars stretches over Hunter’s skin, an organized chaos of milky pockmarks and slashes so often hidden under his armor. You recognize a few, blaster fire and frightened memories of blood and acrid fear, and the rest you save for a later night when you’ve sated the flutter in your chest as your eyes drift lower.

It would be embarrassing, how your mouth waters when you catch sight of his cock, half-hard and framed by a dark thatch of curls. But any need for shame is dismissed by the sheer gravity of want because he’s thick. You had always imagined him to be big—that isn’t much of a surprise—but your stomach churns delightfully at the thought of him stretching you open, making you feel him for days after.

“You’re staring,” Hunter huffs softly.

“Can you blame me?” you breathe.

Hunter laughs, rich and resonant over the patter of the shower spray, and he reaches that short distance forward, gently taking your hand in his and lifting your palm to his lips. You step backwards, letting him crowd you between the wall as you cup his cheek.

His hands, rarely bared to his brothers, let alone you, are strong and weary with scars of war, and he lets them follow the slope of your arm, tracing down your shoulder, your waist, and coming down to your hips, seeing in full clarity under his fingertips.

“Hold on tight.”

“Hunter, wait—ah!”

You yelp as he slips his forearms under your thighs without warning, hefting you up against the cool metal. In your hazy delirium, it occurs to you that you’re both exhausted from sparring and that him holding you up would only wear him down further. You want to tell him you’re perfectly fine on your feet. But whatever protest you may have had planned dies on your lips with a choked sob when you feel his fingers knead into the soft skin of your thighs and tug.

You arch off the wall, breath catching in your throat when you feel Hunter shift his hips forward and anchor you in place as he grinds his cock over your clit. Any hope of forming coherent words, let alone sound, is completely beyond you, now. Heat coils in your gut, all-consuming, white-hot tension pulled tight and ready to snap with each slow motion he makes.

And—the bastard—he’s good at it, too, leaving you squirming under his grip when he shifts away, cruelly aware of the brief moment just as your pleasure crests. Hunter lets you whine, filling the space with firm, insistent kisses over your collar: enough time for your high to ebb, enough time for him to stoke the frustration, the need tight in your core. Then he’s pressing your hips against the wall again and chasing you forwards, hips flush as he nips over your jaw.

All you find yourself able to do is dig your nails into his shoulders and sob.

“Shit, are you crying?” Hunter gasps, nearly dropping you down into a helpless heap under the warm water.

You shake your head wildly, locking your ankles around the small of his back as you keep him in place. It’s enough to startle him back into stillness, and he readjusts his grip on your thighs, the weight of his cock heavy against your throbbing cunt as you gasp for breath.

“I just—I’m fine,” you laugh, bordering delirious as stray drops of water catch on your tongue. “Just fuck me, Hunter. Make it better,” you breathe, chest heaving as you lick your lips. “Please.”

You know the expression that flashes across his face, the need to tease and prod, making gentle light of a dire situation. But this time, Hunter does not entertain it with his signature deadpan drawl, instead meeting you with a soft, imploring kiss.

“So pretty when you beg,” he whispers.

You open your mouth to offer a snappy retort; even in your desperation, there must be some dignity. Instead, your ears fill with the sound of your stuttering gasp over the water pattering against the refresher walls as, finally, finally, you feel the blunt head of his cock dip into your cunt.

Hunter pushes into you with a maddening slowness, one that reduces you to breathless whimpering broken between what gasps you can take. You dig your heels into his back and meet him with a straining moan because Maker, he’s even bigger than you thought, and it’s everything you’ve ever needed.

“Gotta breathe,” Hunter grunts, sinking deeper into you.

You’re not entirely sure whether it’s a reminder for you or for him, but you manage to slip in a gasping breath before he’s nudging up against a spot that has tears blurring your vision in dizzy euphoria. And when you come down from that high spark, legs jerking over his arms, he’s still pushing impossibly deep into you.

You watch him in a dazed trance, fixed on how his brows furrow with each quiet, flinching gasp that passes his parted lips as your cunt flutters around him. And how, through it all, his eyes never leave yours, boring into you with a fierce intensity, devotion, demanding your attention and pleading for your touch. It’s more than pure physicality, sex under the crushing uncertainty of a bounty and the shadow of conquest at your heels. He reaches for you, as open as he’s ever been, and you reach back.

“Hunter, I—”

Your words give way to a long, aching moan as you feel the sharp dip of his hips finally press up against your ass, filling you like you’ve always been meant to take him. (And you have, you swear, to him, to everything you know.)

“Gonna start moving, okay?” Hunter says through a shuddering sigh. He trails one hand up your side, thumbing over your chin while you tremble in his arms. “Cyar’ika, tell me I can.”

“Please,” you whimper.

And he delivers. You whine, feeling the slow drag, the toe-curling burn as Hunter eases almost completely out of you then pushes back in, just as slow as the first. He’s measured in his motions, and if you could see past the tears welling in your eyes, you’re sure you would see the razor focus over his features. There’s a tense edge you can barely make out from your slack-jawed disorientation, a restraint behind each careful thrust. He’s savoring it, you think as you bite down on the inside of your cheek.

But when Hunter jerks forward, punching the breath from your lungs as he drives up hard, pulling an obscene noise from your lips with a stuttering apology, you realize it’s not some way to draw this out as long as humanly possible. And as good as it is now, it’s not enough.

“H-Hunter,” you start. “Hunter, you—you don’t have to hold back—!” Your voice rises to a wavering pitch when you feel his thumb trail down your stomach, nestling close above where you part around him as he starts to rub gentle motions into your clit.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he rasps sharply with you when he presses deep again.

“You—you physically threw me across the cargo hold—like an hour ago,” you laugh through hiccupy sighs.

“That was different,” he chokes out a soft chuckle. “I want this to be good. For you.”

Trembling wildly, you muster the strength to lift your hand to his cheek, stroking over his wet skin as the refresher patters down around you. The aching stretch of Hunter’s cock between your thighs ebbs into something sweet, warming your chest when he turns his head to kiss your palm.

“You are good to me,” you whisper, brushing your thumb over his skin. “I want this. I want you.”

You hear him inhale sharp, holding his breath as he meets you with dark eyes, wide and searching. To his gaze, you offer him a soft smile. And it’s enough.

You barely have enough time to loop your arms around his neck and hold as Hunter shifts his grip, firm and high up on your thighs, and starts a brutal pace that has you near screaming into his neck. Your legs jerk helplessly with every relentless thrust, and you find yourself knotting your fingers into his hair, cradling his head for some—any—purchase you can find.

It’s reminders like this that while Hunter doesn’t have the imposing stature or towering height of his brothers, his sheer presence alone is overwhelming, surrounding you and consuming you whole in ways the others simply could never. The power is intoxicating, crushing in its pressure, the submission and release to pleasure it demands of you, and you sob, a whiny, choked sound you barely hear over the frantic, wet slap of Hunter’s skin against yours. It’s too much and not enough all at once, and it’s so, so achingly good.

“Fuck, I’ve always—” Hunter gasps, craning his neck to nuzzle up against your jaw. “I’ve always wanted to do this. To have you like this.” You turn your head, meeting him in a lopsided kiss, all tongue and shared breath. “Fuckin’ perfect.”

“More,” you whine, crying out when he pins you against the wall, just so he might reach between your thighs again and thumb insistently over your clit.

Even with the water showering over your skin, you’re distinctly aware of the tears streaking down your cheeks, only fitting for the overwhelming sensation building in your core, cresting in blinding heat with every drag, every ridge of his cock moving inside you.

He fucks into you with soft noises, low enough that they might be drowned out by the sound of water if you weren’t pressed so close. It’s fitting, that the stolid discipline of a sergeant might follow him off the battlefield and into the bedroom, but as characteristic of him as it may be, you can’t bring yourself to particularly care—not when he’s holding you up like a ragdoll and bending you to his pleasure. You cling tighter to him with a muffled sob.

It’s nothing like your nights alone in your bunk, wishing for a warm body and something more than hopeful fantasy. Where your fingers only offered you a shot of momentary bliss, this feels like you’re falling apart in his hands, utterly powerless in only the best of ways as the coil in your gut draws tight.

“‘m close,” you croak as the heat seeps bone-deep, spreading down your spine, blazing in the tips of your fingers, and finding home in the buzzing haze between your eyes. “Hunter, I’m—I’m so close.”

“Let go,” Hunter croons, bearing the rough pad of his thumb harder against your clit, pressing firm with every thrust forward, soothing as he draws back. Your cunt squeezes down around him with the spike in want pooled in your gut, drawing a low moan from his lips, and he meets you with a thrust hard enough that you squeal. “Doin’ so well, cyar’ika.”

Trembling, you bury your nose in the juncture of his neck, but you’re pressed backward instead, a light, unyielding pressure at your neck before the back of your head is guided against the metal wall. Hunter holds you at the throat, nothing but a hovering presence of his warmth over your skin, but enough that he commands your attention, steady gaze, pupils blown as he thrusts up against you, pushing you higher and higher against that mindless gap of pleasure with every intent to pull you apart.

“Look at me, y/n,” he murmurs, low and hoarse. “Look at me when you come.”

He drives into you once more, hard, and the tension mounting in your gut breaks like a dam, flooding over your tongue in sweet, simple pleasure that pulses and shudders through your core. You feel it like your body, your visceral pleasure, is not your own, floating in a mindless state of bliss no longer anchored to anything but your rapidly beating heart and the shivering tremors buzzing at your fingertips. Lips parted in a silent cry, your lashes flutter as you let yourself be swept up in the peak of your pleasure, swept up in him, his gaze trained firm, fond on yours.

And you’re too fucked out to do more than gasp, breathy, stuttering inhales as Hunter settles his hands around your waist and starts a pace impossibly faster than before. Somehow, through the aching tremor in your legs and your limp form pressed up against the wall, you manage to keep your grip steady and keep your arms wrapped snug around Hunter’s shoulders. He pulls your pleasure, agonizingly long with no end in sight, chasing his high as you whimper and plead unintelligibly into his ear.

“C-Close?” you manage, digging your fingertips deeper into the sinew of his back.

Hunter hums, a feeble attempt to keep what little composure he has left, but you feel his movements lose the steady rhythm he had maintained thus far, forgoing fluidity and grace for the raw and primal need to satiate. Lucid sensation beyond you, you simply let him take his fill, lazily running your tongue over his lips and holding him tight as he continues to fuck into you with erratic, stuttering thrusts.

And not a moment later, Hunter bears your hips down hard on his, gasping like he’s taken his first breath of air as his climax thunders through him. You squirm in his hold with a thready groan, reveling in the warm spurts of come filling your cunt and oozing down the curve of your ass onto the refresher floor. For all your exhaustion, you curl your fingers at the base of his neck, pulling him close into a slow, lazy kiss, more languid touches than an actual kiss, but a promise of intimacy all the same.

Hunter tips forward and shifts one arm to wrap snug around the small of your back, propping you both against the wall with the other as the tension drains from his coiled poise. He sags forward with a final, shuddering sigh, pulling out of you and setting you on your wobbly feet, to which you promptly pitch forward against his shoulder.

He laughs and catches you with breathless ease.

“I have no idea how we didn’t slip,” you gasp through heaving inhales, shuddering as you feel warm rivulets of come dripping down the skin of your inner thigh. As the pleasure subsides, you return to your surroundings in a haze, faintly aware of the running showerhead, the steam, and you drop your head forward, knocking your forehead gently against Hunter’s.

“Neither do I,” he laughs and nuzzles close. “Next time, we’ll pick somewhere with less water.”

“Next time?” you prod, knowing full well that neither you nor Hunter were particularly fond of mindless flings.

“Next time,” Hunter grins, tipping his head forward and brushing his lips over your brow.

“If you two are done in there!” Echo’s voice, exasperation weary and gruff, cuts through the patter of water against the metal paneling with a bang, nearly sending you and Hunter scrambling apart if the refresher stall wasn’t already so narrow. “We need showers!”

“What do you mean ‘you two?’” Omega chirps from outside the door. You have to clap your hand over your mouth to keep from laughing aloud as you watch the rosy pallor drain from Hunter’s face as you hear her muffled protests as someone (likely Wrecker) coaxes her away.

“Not it—you’re giving her the talk,” you quip, biting back a smile as you peck his cheek.

“Maker help me,” he mutters.