#Mirror bangle

[yuvan123]

Mirror Oxidised Bangle

Broad Oxidised Bangle

With mirror work

With beads & stone work

Ideal for festive/wedding occasions

This oxidised broad kara will give a fashion statement on every special occasions!

[cranberrydietcoke]

euphoria - r.c

ex bf ! rafe cameron x kook princess ! reader

content: 18+, drinking & drug use, drunk/high sex, degrading names (slut, whore, bitch), on camera type shit, kinda public party sex, my y/ns are always cream team soz, kinda dubcon ig, he makes her say ily, creampie. def giving s1 fratboy rafe. non-descriptive except for tanned skin n u curl ur hair!

a/n: first rafe fic eeeep! many more to come tho i deadass have feelings for him it’s a problem. & thx u for the luv on my last two fics !! preesh u bad bitches

wc: 3k

your fingers intertwined with sutton’s as she pulled you along, splitting the tight crowd of snapbacks and miniskirts. smoke hung over the purple atmosphere as some future song boomed from the speakers. you greeted each spinning face you slid by with a slurred sorry baby! or scuse’ me!

“bitch nooo, come the fuck onnnnn,” she pleaded, jerking you away from the random man you were offering your vape to.

“later okay! come smoke w’me!” you yelled back at him, trying to communicate with charades as sutton pulled you deeper into the heart of the party. he was cute, but you knew you wouldn’t see him later, considering rafe was about twenty feet away slicing lines on the kitchen counter. the baby pink polo hugged his bicep as he bent over, rolled dollar bill tight between his fingers.

fuck. i miss that platinum card.

a few months ago, you and rafe  were the it couple of kildare, without question. luxury vacations, designer swimwear, a mercedes for christmas, days in the yacht. it was like kim and fucking kanye. even more so now. a breakup had never lasted more than a few hours, usually ending with you both getting high and rafe fucking an ‘im sorry’ out of you. but this time, you were actually done with his shit, done having a screaming match every day, done apologizing all the time just so he wouldn’t blow up. sure, it was sad at first. but when it was posted on figure8insider, you had finally reached the last stage of grief: acceptance.

“like why do they even fucking care?” you barked, scrunching a warm, fresh curl in your hand. “how do they even know? shit’s like tmz.” spinning in your satin vanity chair, you turned to face your friend before sashaying to your closet.

“they act like we’re soooo a-list. i’m with your ass every day, you are NOT that interesting,” sutton chuckled, adjusting the strap of her top and checking herself out in the mirror. with topper’s parents away in the virgin islands, his annual end-of-summer banger was everybody’s move for the night, and you were certain rafe was gonna be there.  

“right?” you blew clouds of strawberry pound cake as you rummaged through hangers, “like, i’m not an influencer.”

it came out like a lie, and in a way, it was. you were the sweetheart of the island’s restless and entitled youth, their very own people’s princess. your strapless black dress could only be worn after sundown, barely covering the lower curve of your ass, delicate pink ribbons holding together the cutout of your cleavage. a stack of expensive gold bangles chimed together as you stuffed all your shit into your purse, slammed another shooter, and dialed reagan for a ride.

“you know rafe’s gonna be there, right?” she asked, turning the music down and casting a glance at you from the driver’s seat. you suck your teeth behind your glittery lips.

“duh, bitch! why do you think she got that on?” sutton screamed from the back, making all three of you die in laughter as you hid your face. just like, one more time wouldn’t hurt.

even under the kaleidoscope of neon lights, you could tell the whole room’s attention turned toward you as you danced your way in. sneaking a seltzer from the cooler, you settled at the beer pong table where a group of wannabe finance bros crushed solo cups of natty light, shooting each other starstruck glances and sharing whispers as you glided through, greeting everyone with an indifferent wave and an insincere heyyyyyyy.

“yo, rafe, your girl’s over there,” kelce leaned in, motioning over to the enveloping swarm of people growing around you.

“bro, top,” rafe fell back, slapping topper in the chest, “why the fuck did you even invite her?” he spat out, eyes pulsing.

“dude…why wouldn’t i invite her…” topper stated plainly, as if rafe had asked if the sky was fucking blue. if you weren’t there, that shit was a flop.

“that bitch,” he started, shaky hands sliding in to search his pockets, “that bitch is fucking crazy, okay?” he pulled out a dime bag and his wallet, eyeing his friends who knew better than to speak. he tapped some out on the granite countertop, lining it up nice and clean with his american express, hinging at the waist to align a rolled 20 with the powder, making it disappear in one snort.

before it could register, sutton was dragging you through the sea of people and closer and closer to rafe, forcing you to abandon the crowd of drooling fans. gripping your shoulders, she planted you right in front of him. you looked up, caught between a flash of fear and drunken amusement, an absent smile playing on your face.

“be good okay?” she chided, lightly slapping your back with beaming pride, “text me if you need anything!”

he wiped the excess powder off his nostril with a laugh of disbelief as he stood over you, studying your face. all you can manage is a squeaky and breathless hi as your tipsy blush deepens.

“hey, kid. miss me or somethin’?” he mocked, bringing the tips of his fingers to brush against your arm. 

“oh my god rafe, be serious,” you scoff, batting away his large, lingering hands.

“aw, what? don’t wanna share a blunt with me like we used to?” he drew out, words dripping in honeyed hatred. almost made you forget all the shit he’d put you through. the familiar teal of his eyes roamed over every square inch of your freckled and exposed skin.

“fuck no,” you laughed, watching as his tongue swiped against his bottom lip, “no tellin’ where your mouth has been.”

“right, “ his eyes narrowed as he crouched down, inches from your face, “like you’re some fuckin’ angel.”

breath hot on your lips, encapsulating you with the smell of stout liquor and le labo santal. “won’t smoke with me, but you’ll smoke with ole boy?” he spoke, low and calm through heaving breaths as he motioned with a sharp hand towards the brunette you’d ran into.

fuck. he heard you.

 “i see how it is…bein’ an attention whore since you left, huh?” he backed up, wiping the wetness off his lower lip with the same hand.

“don’t piss me off,” you rolled your eyes, “come on.”  taking his wrist into your hand and leading him towards the balcony door. he had an uncanny talent for manipulating the situation, planting the illusion you had the upper hand, although you never did. you were unknowingly right where he wanted you. digging into your purse, you pull out an m&m mini’s tube, popping it open and flipping it vertically. a blunt slid out and into your fingers, perfectly rolled.

the coastal air was thick with humidity, only lit by the light poles on the beach. rafe’s chest hovered over your back as you stepped out into the salty breeze, brushing strands of hair out of your eyes and positioning the blunt between your lips. just as you fished for your lighter, he moved faster, sparking a flame under his calloused thumb and bringing it closer. he watched you as the fire cast a glow on your half-lidded gaze, crackling lightly as you inhaled. as mean and vile and ungrateful as he was, he truthfully couldn’t imagine himself with another girl. you were bitchy, high maintenance, never satisfied, spoiled, whiny, just so unknowingly powerful. but god, you were fucking perfect. who else on this island would be able to handle you?

“you know,” you hissed, drawing the smoke sharply between your teeth before releasing it in a hazy stream that slipped through the perfect, glossy ‘o’ formed by the soft contour of your lips. “it wasn’t as devastating as i thought it was gonna be.” you sputter, nudging it towards his towering frame which stood outlined by the glow of the orange lanterns. he hit it, tiny little consecutive pecks that made the tip flash on and off.

“really?” he choked between inhales. “cause you look pretty devastated to me.” he smirked, stepping closer, blowing the potent smoke into your parted lips as you instinctively breathe it in. “you miss me?”

“maybe just a little,” you tease, watching the satisfied smirk grow on his face. his free hand traced the curve of your collarbone, fingers lightly brushing the tousled strands of your hair off your shoulder. he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the tanned skin.

“i miss your carrdddd, that nice big boattt, the presents.” you sing with a smug smile, hands snaking around his neck, his fingers finding the cushion of your hips, moving and swaying together.

“oh, shut the fuck up,” he looked down at you, dilated pupils scanning your face, “nobody’s fucking you like me, bet that,” a dry laugh left his throat.

“ugh,” you crash into his chest, pressing your cheek into the dry cleaned ralph lauren. whining  ihateyouihateyouihateyou’s.

steady and smooth, he discarded the blunt, wrapping his hands around your back, groping and pawing at your half-revealed ass. without thinking, you lift onto your tippy toes, breath coming in shallow gasps, lips lingering over his open mouth. without warning, his tongue fought its way in, swirling with yours in a hot, desperate hail mary. your lips met in sloppy smacks, stumbling over each other until he eventually had your hips pressed against the side railing.

pulling away, he spoke, low and from his chest. “you hate me? yeah? or do you just miss my dick in you,” his face lingered over yours, “n’ it’s got you all fuckin’ bothered.” you felt the puff of breath with each word. “say it,” he coaxed, hiking up the front of your dress to thumb at the hem of your panties, “say you want me to take that pussy.” his long fingers ran over your clothed clit, making your hips roll against the opulent stone that hung over the thornton estate. he chuckled, shaking his head as his gaze fixed between your legs. “it’s fuckin’ mine anyways.”  

your lips chased after his as he stepped back, tsking at you, still holding you steady by the waist. “nah, baby. gotta say it,”

you closed the distance, pressing your soft, heavy tits into the muscle of his abdomen and the pads of your fingertips into his bicep. face so close to yours, a smirk practically tangible in the air.

“pleaseeeee rafe, i need it,” you panted out, desperate and erratic. “just one more time.” your eyes traced him up and down, sinking into cross-faded euphoria. a single, needy tear fell from the corner of your glittery and bloodshot eye, streaking down your flushed cheek. brushing his lips against you, he flicked his tongue, tracing the path of the teardrop. you moan at the warmth against your cool skin, reaching down to guide his hand between your legs.

“fuck, such a slut.” he breathes out, cupping your dripping cunt and meeting your lips in a deep, perverse kiss. the kind that you just can't help but pull back a little bit. “missed you, missed this pussy.” he spoke in a low guttural rasp, almost inaudible. his wide build shielded you from the large glass doors that led into the party, hooking his fingers in the fabric of your panties and yanking them down, dipping his middle finger into the wetness pooling at your entrance.

“god, need this shit,” he groaned, swiping his finger gently up and down, circling your bundle of nerves. “turn around.”

he gave the command yet didn’t wait for a response, his firm grip on your waist flipping you the other way, leaving no room for a fight. bent over the balcony balustrade, your head hung in the air, looking down at the pool that sat twenty feet below. one of rafe’s hands pinned you over the railing by the back of the neck while the other played and prodded at your hole, getting you ready for him. discreetly, he worked his cock loose, rubbing the tip through your slick folds.

“rafeeee,” you muffle out, face smushed against the stone and immobile from the strength of his grasp. “not here, please, ca-can we just go inside?”

“nahh, i don’t think so, baby. this is what you wanted, right?” his hand slid down, wrapping a fist into the bunched fabric of your dress, pressing into you. your walls fluttered against him, a feeling so familiar yet so distant. lasers from the party strobed through the window, flashing by you. knees buckling, you couldn’t help but wiggle your ass back against him.

“god – fuck!” you squeal out, feeling him balls deep in you, guiding you down his length and filling you to the hilt. reaching into the pocket of his khakis, which still hung low on his hips, he fishes his phone out. with a quick flick, snapchat is open and the flash is washing over you. even with your head hung over the railing, you could still see the spotlight focused on your tight, twitching hole. he slides in and out, using your dress to manipulate the rhythm of your body. capturing everyyyy moment.

“this s’my shit, huh?” he panted out, your ass recoiling against each harsh thrust. “you’re my bitch, y’know that? been my bitch.” voice low and slow, almost cocky, like he wanted everyone to know -  like they didn’t already. the sound of damp, saturated clapping mixed with the crash of waves onto the shore.

“p-please, they’re gonna see,” you whimper, body jerking as he slams into you over and over. imagine the uproar if everyone saw you, little miss untouchable, taking your ex-boyfriend’s cock on the terrace outside topper’s party. grabbing a handful of hair, he yanks your head back, glare of the light fixed on your face. 

“they’re gonna see anyway, baby, don’t be shy. jus’ cum f’me,” your face screwed with his words, brows furrowing as you looked up at the camera with hopeless, empty eyes. just so fucked out. the curve of his dick poked and kissed that sweet spot deep inside you, bringing you closer and closer.

“you love me, huh?” he grunted, still forcing a deep arch in your back. “tell the camera you love me, princess.” you could feel yourself coming loose, guilt and lust boiling over in your tummy. you explode in a squealing moan, gripping on his cock and covering it with cream.

 “i love you rafe, fuck! - love you so so much!” crying through hiccups and flickering eyes, still trained on the flash. such a smart girl getting fucked dumb on camera. such a powerful person yet completely powerless in his hands.

“gonna let me nut in you?” his filming hand went flimsy as he quickened his pace, groaning and letting out short little bursts of air. “y’gonna take it all, be good for me like you used to?” he rasped, met with limp nods and a braindead mhmmm. that’s all it took for him to pound every inch into you, sending you deeper into your daze. fuckin’ dickmatized.

the video on his screen shook violently with each stroke, hot spurts of cum filling you up. “fuuuuckk,” he groaned, hips stuttering to a stop and loosening the grip on your hair, leaving you to catch your breath hung over the railing. he pointed the camera down, pulling himself out and spreading one cheek open with his hand to expose the stickiness dripping out of you. the flash finally goes off, and he saves it to his memories. bringing his fingers up to your leaky hole, he fucks his seed in deeper, eliciting a choked sob from your lips. pulling you upright and flipping you to face him, he squats down to pull your panties up from around your ankles, shimmying your hips into them and pulling your dress down. it was just like y'all used to.

the party was still in full swing as you both slipped back in, parting ways as you went to check in with sutton and reagan, completely disregarding the knotted mess of hair on your head and the streaked makeup down your face. was that fucking real? your legs were tight as you stagger and shuffle through groups of drunk teenagers all bouncing with the music, trying to regain your composure. as soon as reagan spots you from the couch, her jaw is on the floor, ushering you closer with her hand.

“y/n, no fucking way! you slut!” she shrieks with wide eyes and a light slap to your arm. “does sutton know?”

“girl, she set the shit up!” you try to explain, motioning with your hands. “i was like, if you insistttttt.” you lie, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, hitting her with a debby ryan radio rebel type smirk.

“you’re lying,” she goes on, picking her jaw up and taking a swig of her drink. “speak of the devil!” she exclaims, motioning behind you with her drink. a sharp smack landed on your ass, making you jump. sutton’s hand gripped yours, turning you around.

“did you fuck him?” she smiled, obviously drunk as shit and wayyy too loud.

“yeahh, what do you mean…” you roll your eyes, snapping your head to the side with a wide smile. it was evident how excited sutton was, prideful about it. lifting her solo cup in the air and grabbing to lift yours with the other, she let out a deafening woo!

“personally…” she went on, clutching her imaginary pearls, “i think that’s worth drinking to,” she proposed, side-eyeing and nudging you not so subtly. “come on bitch! shots for ken and barbie!”

to be honest, that was the last thing you remember.

the next morning, you woke up nuzzled in plaid grey sheets, your phone buzzing incessantly with notifications. the sound of the groundskeepers filtered through the windows. tannyhill.

fumbling with your phone, the words flashed across the screen.

figure8insider – ‘kildare’s power couple reunited? rafe cameron and y/n y/ln spotted together at party!’

oh.my.god.

[scealaiscoite]

.☽༊˚ a hundred assorted prompts

¹⁾ raspberry lip gloss

²⁾ pajama bottoms

³⁾ a silver lighter

⁴⁾ fresh honey

⁵⁾ flushed cheeks

⁶⁾ a fogged-up mirror

⁷⁾ the imprint of a belt buckle on skin

⁸⁾ helium balloons

⁹⁾ a broken cocktail glass

¹⁰⁾ old playing cards

¹¹⁾ chipped green nail polish

¹²⁾ a brown leather wallet

¹³⁾ bullet holes in a wooden wall

¹⁴⁾ seashells lined up along the curve of a spine

¹⁵⁾ beaded curtains

¹⁶⁾ pomegranate seeds

¹⁷⁾ a carabiner heavy with keys

¹⁸⁾ fresh-cut orchids in a pottery vase

¹⁹⁾ vending machine cigarettes

²⁰⁾ an out of date map

²¹⁾ a creaky wooden gate

²²⁾ a minifridge stocked with budweiser and paracetamol

²³⁾ snapdragons growing between pavement slabs

²⁴⁾ smudged yellow eyeshadow

²⁵⁾ slept-in braids

²⁶⁾ library books that’ll never be returned

²⁷⁾ a pink-tiled shower

²⁸⁾ a honeybee on a linen shirtsleeve

²⁹⁾ burnt popcorn

³⁰⁾ watching an eclipse from bed

³¹⁾ a black lace bralette

³²⁾ a tattered patchwork quilt

³³⁾ blue raspberry bubblegum

³⁴⁾ a rusted fishing rod and a dried-up lake

³⁶⁾ the taste of whiskey on someone else’s lips

³⁷⁾ rose-scented candles burned down to the wick

³⁸⁾ crescent-shaped coffee stains on a wooden tabletop 

³⁹⁾ odd socks 

⁴⁰⁾ a loose thread on a jumper sleeve

⁴¹⁾ warm sheets on cold skin

⁴²⁾ amber-tinged perfume

⁴³⁾ gold jewelry 

⁴⁴⁾  a calloused palm against a soft cheek 

⁴⁵⁾ a busted headlight

⁴⁶⁾ sunrise from a jail cell

⁴⁷⁾ hand tattoos that weave around fingers

⁴⁸⁾ coconut shampoo

⁴⁹⁾ a doorbell sounding in the middle of the night

⁵⁰⁾ ladybugs crawling across a headstone

⁵¹⁾ grass stains on blue jeans

⁵²⁾ a loaded saddlebag

⁵³⁾ a dusty wine cellar

⁵⁴⁾ a bikini top draped over a bedpost

⁵⁵⁾ snow in july

⁵⁶⁾ dirt-red mountaintops

⁵⁷⁾ goosebumps in a heatwave

⁵⁸⁾ an empty dinnertable

⁵⁹⁾ a fresh manicure and bruised knuckles

⁶⁰⁾ zombie movies

⁶¹⁾ bitten lips

⁶²⁾ dark eyes full of tears

⁶³⁾ a soft cast in summertime

⁶⁴⁾ stale coffee in paper cups

⁶⁵⁾ frozen peaches on a black eye

⁶⁶⁾ acrid smoke

⁶⁷⁾ bound hands

⁶⁸⁾ animal tracks

⁶⁹⁾ unwound vhs tapes

⁷⁰⁾ cartoon plasters

⁷¹⁾ lipstick marks on shirt collars

⁷²⁾ silver bangles

⁷³⁾ sharing a coat in a downpour

⁷⁴⁾ fields with grass at waist-height

⁷⁵⁾ daisy chains up to your forearm

⁷⁶⁾ rolled-up shirtsleeves

⁷⁷⁾ the smell of bleach in a dark room

⁷⁸⁾ a shared sleeping bag

⁷⁹⁾ a new haircut

⁸⁰⁾ swimsuit tanlines

⁸¹⁾ perfume clinging to a pillow

⁸²⁾ lollipops dangling between lips

⁸³⁾ a badly-timed grin

⁸⁴⁾ old books

⁸⁵⁾ tongues stained from slushies

⁸⁶⁾ waking up in a hailstorm

⁸⁷⁾ dying sunflowers

⁸⁸⁾ colourful sunglasses

⁸⁹⁾ the last pew

⁹⁰⁾ tall, rattling windows in a storm

⁹¹⁾ six missed calls

⁹²⁾ sticks of incense burned down to the last

⁹³⁾ bunk beds

⁹⁴⁾ matching sets

⁹⁵⁾ ruined mascara

⁹⁶⁾ a boxing ring

⁹⁷⁾ stained glass windows

⁹⁸⁾ fairy forts

⁹⁹⁾ a cluttered bedside table

¹⁰⁰⁾ a hangover in the evening

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Jamil Viper: A Web, Tangled

Aaand here we go with the Relaxing in Room line of birthday cards :v d ehebkwjw It’s so funny that they chuck pillows to attack??? (By the way, congrats to this Jamil card overloading and crashing the JP server 😂)

For this series of birthday ficlets, I’ll focus on writing each birthday boy preparing to walk to school with the reader (since the duo partner barely appears in the vignettes). Can be read platonically or romantically, whatever you prefer~

Rise and Shine!

You lingered by the doorway, your eyes glued on Jamil.

He was preoccupied with glimpsing himself in a mirror set on a table. Before him were various accessories from a jeweled box. (Judging from the gaudiness of the massive rubies on it, it must have been a gift from Kalim.)

Loose tresses the color of dark chocolate tumbled down his back. When Jamil ran a brush through them, the sun caught and his hair tempered, turning lustrous.

You’d seen him massage his scalp with oil-slicked hands before—and again, he diid it, followed by some sort of a cream. The routine left his head moisturized smelling faintly of jasmine. Jamil never compromised when it came to hair care.

You often had to remind yourself that he was not a princess, entrancing as he was. The sway of his hair, the snap of his steps. Each movement, close to a part in a mysterious dance.

Jamil produced his magical pen. The magestone laid in it was as clear as a cloudless day, and the color of blood that had been left out for a little too long.

Now came the spectacle, the very highlight of your entire morning.

Jamil raised the pen as if he was a conductor waving his baton. A hush fell over an imaginary audience, a collective of breaths held in anticipation. This is it, this is it.

He flicked his wrist, and the magic flowed.

A trail of scarlet light emanated whenever Jamil drew his wand. The accessories laid out on his desk floated up, compelled, in a neat line. A band with a feather dangling from it, narrow golden bangles, flat beads that clinked like coins.

His dark locks lifted, dividing themselves into even sections, then into even smaller ones. They carefully twisted over and under each other, weaving into tight braids. Accessories slid on, effortlessly fitting themselves at his direction.

His intricate hairstyle assembled quickly, as if arranging the pieces of a familiar puzzle.

The red sparkles faded into a fine shimmer and then into nothing at all. As the last traces of magic settled, you bursted into applause.

“Bravo, bravo! Great show as always,” you said appreciatively.

“… That wasn’t a performance,” Jamil corrected as he set his magical pen down.

“It might as well be! It takes some serious skill to pull that off every morning.” You gestured to him. “And so fast!“

“Anyone could accomplish it with enough time and practice.” His words choice was humble, but there was a hint of a smirk in his tone.

A rare moment of triumph for him.

“Not just anyone. I think you’ve got a natural talent for this kind of thing,” you grinned broadly, “like a spider!”

Jamil’s neutral expression splintered, leaving jagged edges exposed. His left eyes twitched, pupils pinpricks.

“Excuse me? In what way do I remind you of a vile bug?”

“Hey, don’t knock spiders! You guys have similar skills. The braids, the webs. You make’m well, all nice and strong. No strands out of place.”

“That doesn’t reassure me,” he groused, a hand on his hip. “I’d prefer if you didn’t compare me to them. It feels wrong.”

Jamil shivered. Not from the cold, but with repulsion.

You gave a laugh—soft against the rising morning sun. “Really? But you’re so alike in other ways too.”

His eyes narrowed into suspicious slivers. Mildly offended, perhaps.

“Elaborate,” he commanded.

“They’re hard working and important but under-appreciated,” you pointed out. “Without spiders, there would actually be a lot more bugs around. We should be more grateful to have spiders’ webs.”

There was a pause, deliberate. Then a gentle prompt.

“… Remind you of anyone?”

Jamil scoffed. It was as loud as a thunderclap in his suddenly cavernous bedroom.

“Maybe.”

Two syllables, clipped. An acknowledgment.

“Jamil-senpai…?”

He hurriedly looked away, staring at the wall for likely longer than what was deemed appropriate. Any more, whether in length or in intensity, and he might have burned a hole in it. His face, hotter than the Scalding Sands.

Your brows shot up. “… Ah. Could it be that you’re feeling embarrassed?”

“What? No, don’t be ridiculous. Something like this couldn’t possibly ruffle me.”

You craned your body, attempting to meet his gaze. But he wrenched away, denying that to you. “Then why aren’t you looking at me when you say that?”

“I need to get ready for class,” he replied dismissively. “So close the door and wait outside while I change out of my pajamas.”

“Now you’re just changing the subject!”

“Well, we’ll both be running late if we continue to dawdle,” Jamil warned—a tactful evasive maneuver.

His hands found their way onto your arms, steering you into the hallway. You turned back, mouth opening to protest, but Jamil had already sealed himself off.

Banging and calling out to him was no good. Kicking resulted in you gripping onto your poor foot and whimpering. You were left in a sorry state, back to the door as you rested on the floor.

On the other side, Jamil was surely having a little laugh. Cheeks still burning from the praise showered upon him, basking in the afterglow of it.

You sighed.

A spider makes its web to deceive flies into getting stuck in it. Jamil-senpai can be just as tricky.

[lewisvinga]

million dollar man | lance stroll x fem! reader

summary; in the world of her million dollar man, y/n can’t help but feel like a lost puppy and stick out like a sore thumb leading to mess of jumbled feelings.

warnings; insecurities esp around money, reader is mentioned to be a healthcare worker/nurse

word count; 1.2k

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minseok-smaus @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri @graciewrote @xoscar03

note; i can’t tell yall the amount of times i’ve thought of this fic ever since i started the born to die series 😭😭😭😭 but i rlly let out my obsession w these luxuries out here 🫣🫣

‘born to die’ series masterlist.

masterlist !

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“Why don’t you wear your new necklace? The one that your fiancé got you.”

Y/n could hear the smile in Lance’s voice as she stood in the bathroom adding the finishing touches to her makeup. “Yeah, because a Serpent around my neck would match the floral look.” She snorted, referring to the Bulgari necklace he had gotten her the week prior.

“I mean, you haven’t worn it yet. Where else would you showcase it for the first time other than your own engagement party?”

“Because it doesn’t match.”

What she said was partially the truth. The serpent necklace didn’t match her 3 thousand-dollar Oscar De La Renta dress.

It didn’t match with the gold Rolex on her left wrist or the diamond-encrusted Cartier love bangle, Juste un Clou, and the Van Cleef bracelet on her right wrist. Nor did it match the giant diamond engagement ring adorning her ring finger.

It didn’t match her white Louboutin heels nor did it go with the 20-motif Van Cleef Alhambra necklace.

It didn’t match her and that was her issue.

Y/n never even dreamt of the lifestyle she had been living ever since dating Lance. It was something so unattainable. The expensive bags, jewelry, cars, and private jets, she never even dared to dream of.

She grew up middle class, her parents having enough to be able to put food on the table, and have decent clothes, but not enough to earn them all the luxuries she has now. Sure, her nursing job earned her a decent amount of money, but the necklace her boyfriend had gotten her cost more than her yearly salary and that said enough.

She remembered the look on the faces of Lance’s extended family when they found out she did not come from another rich family and was just a regular pediatric nurse. They immediately assumed she was just with him for money. They talked and talked.

The gossip would become worse whenever Y/n would show up with a new bag or bracelet. She hated it.

She remembered when Lance decided to throw her a huge birthday party. He paid for most of it even if she protested. Not to mention, he gifted her not one but two Hermes mini Kelly’s. She remembered the looks on his aunt's face as she held a rare picnic mini Kelly.

“One for the money, two for the show, right?” He joked, chuckling at her shocked face, and pressed a kiss against her cheek. “I love you, honey.”

“You’re unbelievable, Lance. I love you.”

The same picnic Kelly bag he gifted her was the one she decided to wear with her floral dress. A springtime engagement called for a floral theme engagement party, hence the dress.

Y/n stares at herself in the mirror after applying her Dior lipgloss. She looked like a million-dollar man. She looked so strange like she was unrecognizable. She had the dream life of so many but had no idea why she felt so upset or heartbroken.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t realize Lance had been calling her. “Honey, what’s the matter?” He asked, concern in his voice as he walked into the bathroom all dressed in an expensive suit.

“I hope you’re not getting cold feet before our engagement part.” He joked but his smile immediately fell at her silence. “Are you?”

“No! No!” Y/n quickly exclaimed, turning around and settling her hand on his shoulder. “I’m not getting cold feet, Lance. I want to marry you and I will marry you. It’s just…” Her voice trailed off and she sighed. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid if it’s bothering you.” He mumbled, grasping her hands. His dark eyes were filled with concern as his thick brows furrowed up. She still seemed hesitant to tell him what was on her mind. “Hey, I won’t judge you for what’s on your mind.”

Y/n sighed again as Lance gave her hands a gentle squeeze. “You know I didn’t grow up with this. All of these luxuries, expensive jewelry, even more expensive cars and bags. My nursing job can only cover so much. It can’t cover a quarter of what you give me.”

“And I don’t care!” He exclaimed, “You’re my fiancée. I want to spoil you. It’s my duty to spoil you. I don’t care what they think, I-”

“But I’ve seen the way your aunts stare at me.” She mumbled, looking down at her Louboutins. “I’ve heard their whispers. They just think I’m a gold digger who is only marrying you to have this lifestyle but I couldn’t give two shits about all of this! We could be struggling with money and I’d still want to be with you.”

She sighed as she let go of his hands. She turned around to look at herself through the mirror. “I see a stranger when I’m dressed up like this. I stick out whenever I’m with your family and they all know it. They never try to hide their whispers and they’re right. I don’t fit into this world, Lance. I look like a million dollar man but why does my heart still feel broken?”

“Y’know what I see?” Lance asked as he took a step closer to her, placing his hand on her waist. “I see the most gorgeous woman. Someone so unique and special that she’s like an exotic flower.” He chuckled, running his finger over the strap of her floral dress.

“I see someone who is so brilliant she used her brain to study to help children in need. I see someone with a heart so big, that she works extra shifts just to spend time with her patients no matter how tiring the week has been.” He continued, gently fixing a strand of her hair which made her let out a soft chuckle. “I see my fiancée, the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with despite not growing up in ‘my world’.”

Lance leaned over and kissed Y/n’s cheek. “I see the woman who has always been by my side. I see the woman who will be the mother of my children. I see the woman who has stolen my heart from the day I bumped into her in that cafe.”

He spun her around so she was facing him. She rested her hands on his shoulder once again for stability as his hands held onto her waist. “I don’t see someone strange. I see you.”

She takes a deep breath, her pink lips curled into a smile as her eyes fill with tears. “You always know how to take a girl's breath away, don’t you?”

“Just yours.”

Y/n leaned up and pulled him close to kiss him, not caring if they were going to be made to their own engagement party. “I love you so much, Lance.”

“I love you so much, Y/n. More than anything else in this world.”

She leaned back down with a wide smile on her lips. She takes a deep breath and quickly glances in the mirror to ensure her makeup is still intact.

“Well, we can’t be late to our own engagement party.” Y/n chuckled, grabbing her bag and turning back to Lance. “Shall we go, my million dollar man?”

He kisses the top of her head as a smile matching hers appears on his lips. “Let’s go, my honey.”

[bebemoon]

major arcana looks: THE HIGH PRIESTESS | khaite "romee" open-backed draped merino wool gown, marina eerrie "sacred" natural silk dress w/ hood, knobbly studio pearl double threader, knobbly studio silver mismatched fluted perfume funnel & holder earrings, di petsa silver metal belt, yvmin gemstone mesh fingertip rings, silver ewer (c. 19th cent.), kindred black "porphyria's lover" natural perfume, middaia "cathedrale pearl chains" necklace, schiaparelli surreal jewelry-pierced half-mask, alighieri "the ancient incantations" sterling silver bangle bracelet, alighieri "the ancient incantations" sterling silver ring, victorian silver hand mirror, laura benson "god seeds" pomegranate archival matte print

[whencyclopedia]

Beauty in the Bronze Age - Minoan & Mycenaean Fashion

Dress and appearance in Bronze Age Greece (c. 3100 BCE - c. 1100 BCE) played a part in defining gender roles and emphasising idealized beauty that planted the seed for modern-day standards. The Minoans turned the island of Crete into a Mediterranean powerhouse and dominated Aegean culture until around 1450 BCE when the Mycenaean civilization from the Greek mainland peaked and wrested control. Frescoes and figurines uncovered from this era reveal a fabulously colourful society that expressed itself through fashion, hair, and accessories. Both Minoan and Mycenaean women sought a pinched waist to achieve the epitome of a feminine aesthetic. The fashion of Mycenaean men, however, expressed their warlike temperament, in contrast to their Minoan counterparts, who embodied display and splendour.

Minoan Women

Women are heavily represented amongst the archaeological finds from Knossos, Akrotiri, and other Minoan hubs. One of the most beautiful examples is the Snake Goddess Figurine which depicts the archetype of Minoan dress. This woman wears a flounced, layered skirt that falls to the ground. Her bodice has short sleeves and a scalloped neckline which reveals and accentuates her breasts. This is mirrored in the colourful frescoes which emphasise bright, eye-catching fabrics dyed a myriad of colours. Bold primary colours – reds, yellows, and blues − dominate the pattern scheme. To get these shades, the Minoans took advantage of the available natural resources. Saffron – now the world’s most expensive spice – was used to acquire yellow and murex sea snails created a rich purple.

One of the most interesting aspects of female dress was the use of corsets or tight thick belts to create an hour-glass figure. Artworks suggest that the wasp-waist was highly idealised in Minoan culture and body modification may have been implemented to achieve this. Corsets have, of course, gone in and out of fashion in the thousands of years since their early Cretan use. Minoan women also wore jewellery to frame their features. Hoop earrings, necklaces, and bangles were all popular forms of expression and decoration − gold and glass beads were used to give outfits that glamourous touch.

In the frescoes, women have black hair braided into long tendrils or locks. Their skin, in contrast, is typically a pale white, implying that the ideal women would have spent significant time indoors and that the archetype of feminine beauty could be obtained by focusing on domestic duties.

Continue reading...

[brailsthesmolgurl]

'BLIND' DATE

Preview: After the end of a situationship, you had mustered up the courage to go out on a blind date to finally settle down. But what if, your date happens to be the guy you were in a relationship with?!

Warnings: Angst that is gonna hurt you in your meow meow, Fluff that shall heal the hurt in your meow meow. Mild-implied smexy scenes.

Divider is credited here!

Staring at your own reflection in the mirror, you utilised your 20/20 vision to scan every part of your body, to ensure that you look the best you had been since the last parting with Rafayel. Yes, y/n is finally ready to crawl out of her wailing dungeon to go on a date with a potential boyfriend. A guy whom you had met on some dating website--that you had downloaded out of the blue--had asked you out on a date.

Your gaze paused at your wrist, the bangle that wrapped loosely around your wrists casted a frown on your face. There is no way you are going to wear something your supposed-ex had given to you a long time ago. You see, Rafayel and you had never been exclusive anyways, although a huge part of you wished that the both of you would gravitate towards being more than friends.

But that wish of yours simply stayed as a wish, till the day it was crushed by Rafayel telling you that he does not see himself in relationships due to how demanding he can be in one; be it physical or mental. He clearly has a reason of his own but you could not seem to see it from his two sense and so, a stupid argument erupted which led you to your confession and with him standing in shocked. However, he decided to add fuel to the fire and dismissed your liking towards him and off you went. Not even turning your head back at once.

It has been months from then, no form of contact was initiated between the both of you. Mostly you blocking him off of your social media and contact lists and beelining only on your own self-recovery. Life was pretty banal for you till you stumbled upon this user on your dating app, who is in search of a partner. This app only allows you to get to know the person via texting, all of their information such as gender, MBTI, Blood Type, Likes and Dislikes etc were shown except for their looks and name. It is an app that prides itself on making matches purely based off of one's personality rather than looks.

Perhaps, this is a fresh start for you. The guy you had been chatting with so far has left a good impression with you, sharing same perspectives, telling humourless dad jokes (that you sadly fell for all the time, smiling behind the screen like a fool), flirtatious and incredulously charming. For a glimpse, you thought it was Rafayel given the similarities of their spelling errors in their texts yet you figured well enough that this may not be the same guy afterall since this one is searching for a serious relationship. Flirtatious texts do not die off easily as one may think and this situationship of yours with this mysterious man named ‘Turtleboi’ had fluorished so much within the span of a few months that it got you to thoroughly consider going out to meet him.

Flashing back to the texts where he had asked you out on a date, you could not help but to blush at the thought of it. The way he proposed for a date was exactly how you figured, or wished Rafayel would have done it to you and it goes something like this:

𝗦𝗼, 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗲𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝗲 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗱𝘂𝗹𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘂����𝗰���𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗙𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗮𝘆.

𝗜 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝗜 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗺𝘆 𝗰𝗹𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗱𝘂𝗹𝗲.

𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗷𝘂𝘀 𝘁𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝗲. 𝗛𝗼𝘄 𝗱𝗼𝗲𝘀 𝘀𝗲𝗮𝗳𝗼𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂??

𝗔 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝘁𝗼𝗼 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗮𝗹 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗮 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁 𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸?

𝗜 𝗯𝗲𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝗱𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿, 𝘀𝗲𝗮𝗳𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗴𝗼𝗲𝘀 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗼𝗰𝗰𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀! 𝗕𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸𝗳𝗮𝘀𝘁, 𝗹𝘂𝗻𝗰𝗵, 𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗿, 𝘁𝗲𝗮 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲, 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴!

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬. 𝐈 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲.

𝗢𝗵 𝗯𝗮𝗯𝘆, 𝗜 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝗺𝘆 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸𝘀 𝗺𝗮𝘆 𝘀𝗮𝘆 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝘄𝗶𝘀𝗲 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗿𝘂𝗺𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗼𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀.

Your hands would not stop trembling, the atmosphere of the fine dining restaurant eerily colder than ever. It was however, a restaurant that you would never step foot into given its prestige. Not that you have the sort of funds to spend it on fresh seafood here when bulk, half-par seafood you can purchase from any supermarkets is a huge bang to your buck. Maybe it is the way the lights barely glowed in this private room as well, causing the velvet scarlet walls to take form of the insides of a belly, enveloping you within its grasp and that is the moment you know that you are way too nervous for a date as such.

You fumbled with your fingers, dazing off with your eyes trained on your bodycon dress as you stayed sat on your plush dining seat. The restaurant should be sued for having such comfortable seats as you might actually consider stopping by just to nap on the seats rather than have a meal here. With you being such a nervous wreck, your last bit of conscience took over and you started to grab your clutch, already aiming to leave at the very last minute before you are about to meet this guy.

Your conscience speaks of your deepest insecurities and you know why you would want to back out at the last moment. Your insecurities are consuming you at this very moment. Maybe you did not have the adequate amount of time to heal from Rafayel’s rejection and it led you to believe that you probably should not be in a a relationship until the day you can forget about Rafayel. You got up and made your way towards the door only for it to be swung open in front of you and your eyes widened in shock, fascination, horror, and all kinds of emotions that you had never felt before. But most likely had gotten it bottled up, sealed closed and stuffed into the darkest corners of your memory closet.

“IT’S YOU?!” You could not help the rise of volume in your voice, the scrunched eyebrows of frustration, the gritting of teeth that tightened your jaw, the heartbeat that you could only achieve after a marathon and your trembling hands that would very much like to cross jab towards his face. Rafayel’s handsome face. His nebulic eyes formed beads on his pinched face, question marks littered all over his face, his form a bit more frail than you had last remembered but he still is looking like a living, breathing art piece. And you curse yourself for that thought despite your current state.

“I guess it is me.” The artist recollected himself, readjusting the flaps of his blazer and he stood up straight again, his facial features setting back to their own neutral position again. Now he looks like those marble statues of famous people, not smiling, but just introductory. He gestured at the room and you sighed, knowing that it would be even more rude to walk out now so you turned and sat back at your seat. “You look nice today, y/n.”

Your silence and ennui attitude made it clear that you did not want to be anywhere near him and he was quick to read the room, choosing to take the seat right next to you when the table can fit up to 15 guests and the most ideal seat would be the furthest one away from you. “Let’s get this over with.” You avoided his gaze when you spoke. Being enthralled with his beauty is the last thing you wish for right now, let alone being in a room with him.

“Alright then, don’t mind me treating this like an actual date then.” He shrugged off his blazer, revealing the formal white formal button-up shirt beneath and his slender digits went up to unbutton the top two buttons, revealing more of his Adam's apple. Damn. "It is a fair night to be acquainted by you Miss Y/n. I hope this dinner shall not disappoint you in considering me to be your boyfriend."

How did you not realised? No, how did you not trust your own gut? The nonchalance, the flirts, the typos, it was all pointing towards Rafayel but why did you not buy it? "What made you changed your mind about being in a relationship Rafayel?" You finally lifted your head off of the floor, but was only able to look at his Adam's apple as you spoke. Damn.

"You know." Rafayel uncorked the bottle of champagne and started pouring it into the champagne flutes. The gold liquid sloshed around as it got emptied from the bottle, almost sparkling under the shine of the chandelier. "It was a bit of a brutal brulesque for my mind. I had to strip down what I had fundamentally believed in, set away my ego for a while to give whatever a relationship is, a try it deserves."

Your eyes blinked rapidly a few times and you silently thanked him as he passed you the champagne flute. It smelled of honeysuckle, with a mixture of grapefruit and lychee. It is your first time drinking a champagne afterall. "Why did you consider it only after I had left?" You took a small sip, the cold liquid kisses your lips before gliding down your throat and leaving a sweet and fruity trail in its wake.

The champagne in Rafayel's flute failed to meet his lips as he drew back his arms in midair to answer your question, his eyes lost a bit of a glimmer when he reminisced the bitter thought. The expensive stalk twirled between his thumb and index finger, his gaze following the tiny movements. "Maybe, I wanted to try it with you instead." He was cool-headed when he spoke, the sweetness of the champagne may not even be a cure to the taste of bile he is feeling in his thorax. "I got the app because I figured maybe I could try it on some nobody before I get to you finally."

"So...you wanted to try it with someone you barely knew?" Your eyebrows frowned, just like your lips and you caught his eyes, which were already trained on you. It has been quite a while since you had seen a pair of eyes so beautiful. The last you recalled a pair of great colours would be an old lady whom sat down to have a chat with you while you were enjoying the sunset by the park. You remembered her eyes clearly, both sparkled a close resemblance to amethyst stones. Perhaps, a swatch of pink would be more of a familiar gaze. And now you are met with those familiar windows of one's soul.

"You could put it that way, but I was only prepping myself for you." He cleared his throat and finally drank, downing his drink in one go and refilling it almost immediately. Although looking nonchalant, the man cursed himself for not pacing his words well.

"And you thought breaking someone's heart for a stupid experiment of yours is a great idea?" You voiced in bruquesness, reproachful even. "I think I should leave." You pushed your chair back, the carpeted floors silenced the protesting screeches of the heavy chair. Snagging your clutch off of the chair, you turned towards the door and careened over to the exit.

A strong grip settled onto your wrist and you were tugged back in an instant. Rafayel was up and off of his seat, holding onto your wrist and making use of his larger body to entrap you against the wall. Your height only allows you to extend all the way to his collarbone. His cologne ambushed you as well, a waft of sea salt and bergamot. His signature scent. You snapped yourself back to reality by chewing onto the insides of your cheek, nagging yourself to not be tempted. "Who said I was going to break their heart hmm?"

"It's not like you get to know who is behind the texts on that stupid dating app." Your face reddened, the warmth of it easily being the heater to warm up the chilled room. "All the more reason for you to just settle temporarily and move on if things don't go your way." His other hand snaked around behind your back, his touch blazing a hot track against your covered skin. Your bodycon dress not exactly the thickest material to fend off physical touches. He wrapped his arm around the lower of your back and pushed you further up against the wall and you gasped when his nose tip came in contact with the top of your head.

"I would not do that, because I chose wisely." You can feel his arm tightened his grip around you and he pulled back slightly, the chandelier's glow formed a soft outline for his figure. "And I had a strong hunch, the person I am interested in, is you." The hand that was previously holding your wrist, came to pepper your cheek with featherlight touches. You looked like a porcelain doll to him, too hard of a touch and you might just crumbled, like how you did in front of him last time. Your abjection made his heart ached and hence the mindset change.

The tips of both of your noses touched as he lowered himself a little, a gesture he usually do when he hugs you last time in respect of your smaller size. It was adorable till it lasted, but now, in this moment, it still is an adorable detail that does not go amiss. "How...did you knew...it was me?" Your curiosity got the best of you, and you just got to be greedy and to sought for the answer. "There are just as many other candidates out there, that could be me."

"The story you told me of the turtle." His eyes wandered, from your left eye to your right, then down to your lips and back up again. He is using the triangle method, yes. "I had never told anyone other than you and Thomas, and my aunt who has been with me for as long as I could remember." His username 'Turtleboi' was what prompted you to narrate a story to the anonymous fellow about how a 'guy friend' of yours befriended a turtle during one of his sea adventures. The intricate details and all were told as how you remembered Rafayel reciting them to you. So, that was what sold you off apparently.

You could feel your weight started to shift, the embarassment-o-meter going past its threshold when you realised that Rafayel has gotten you wrapped around his fingers. You wanted to scamper with your tail, or head, buried in between your legs but with your current position, it seemed impossible to escape. "I...I just didn't thought you would--"

"I love you y/n." Interrupted by the man, you felt a finger lifted your chin up and a pair of soft, pillowy lips touched your lips. Your very first kiss, taken in a fine dining seafood restaurant, by a man who had rejected you but oddly rejoiced with you again via a dating app. The kiss ended when you were about to close your eyes and you see Rafayel leaning back slightly, Adam's Apple bobbed once while he gulped down what is possibly nervousness of his own. His diffidence disappeared alongside his gulp and he smiled at you. "This relationship deserves to be given a chance, yeah?"

The sincerity his gaze holds got you good. You smoothed your hands up his taut chest, feeling his pectorals beneath your touch and you locked eyes with him, a smile of solace settled on your lips. "I forgive you Rafayel. And...I love you too." The both of you were leaning in for another kiss before the door opened with a thud and startled the both of you, causing Rafayel to pull you into his arms tightly, shielding you away from any potential threats but the young waiter stood in the doorway, a tray held in front of him, ready to serve the appetiser.

"You may come back later." Rafayel was quick to dismiss the tomato-faced waiter while rubbing small soothing circles on your back as your cheeks laid dormant on his chest. Once the door closed with a thud, Rafayel turned back to you, and lifted your chin once again. "Now, let's not let someone else ruin our relationship yeah?" And he presses his lips onto you again.

A beautiful idea from one of my readers and also a writer whom I look up to greatly. Thanks for requesting me to write this, I had fun burning some of the midnight oil to finish this piece @xvysarene <3! Do support her works as well!

[ltash]

Scream

Ghostxfemalereader

The opulence of your office was a stark contradiction to the chaos unravelling beyond its walls. The mahogany desk, polished to a mirror-like gleam, stood as a testament to power and wealth, its surface immaculate save for the glowing monitors streaming live footage from the CCTV system. The images on the screens told a grim story: Task Force 141 was storming the building with relentless precision. The faint echoes of gunfire filtered through the fortified walls, each sharp crack a harbinger of impending doom.

You adjusted the Prada spectacles perched delicately on your nose, the gold frames catching the soft glow of the chandelier above. Rising with deliberate grace, you smoothed the rich, velvety fabric of your brown jersey dress, its figure-hugging cut sculpting your petite, hourglass silhouette Gold bangles chimed softly as you opened the drawer and retrieved the sleek, matte pistol resting inside. Its cold, familiar weight steadied your trembling hands.

For a moment, you allowed yourself a single deep breath. Control. Poise. Resolve. The words repeated like a mantra, a fragile bulwark against the growing panic clawing at your chest.

The corridor stretched before you, bathed in the dim, foreboding glow of emergency lights. Shadows danced on the walls, twisting and shifting as if alive, feeding the unease you tried desperately to suppress. Each step you took, the click of your heels on the marble floor echoed louder in your ears, amplifying the stark emptiness around you.

Then the lights went out.

Darkness enveloped you with suffocating immediacy. Your breath hitched, coming in shallow, uneven gasps. You gripped the pistol tighter, the weapon feeling small and insignificant against the mounting dread. Somewhere ahead, gunfire crackled faintly, punctuated by muffled screams. Each sound hammered at your composure.

Turning a corner, your pulse skittered into chaos as a figure emerged from the shadows. He was a phantom in the dark, broad shoulders, towering frame, and an aura of menace that seemed to fill the space like a tangible force. The skull mask obscuring his face glinted faintly, its hollow eyes fixing on you with an intensity that froze you in place.

Before you could react, he closed the distance, a blade flashing in the faint light.

The steel kissed your abdomen with cold precision before sinking in. Pain erupted, hot and blinding, pulling a sharp gasp from your lips as your knees buckled. The rich fabric of your dress darkened as blood seeped through, warm and sticky against your skin.

His grip on your wrist was unyielding, pinning you effortlessly against the wall. The sheer strength in his hand was enough to force a choked cry from your throat. Shadows framed his masked face, but his eyes, deep, piercing pools of brown, locked onto yours with a cruel, magnetic pull.

"You don't look scared enough," he murmured, his voice low and edged with menace.

The knife twisted, a calculated motion that drew another strangled cry from you. Agony bloomed, spreading in sharp, unbearable waves, but it was his presence that overwhelmed you, the heat radiating from him, the dominance in his every movement. His breath was warm against your cheek, steady and deliberate, a contrast to the chaos inside you.

"P-please," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Please, what?" His tone mocked your desperation, lips brushing so close to your ear that the words felt like a physical caress. "Begging won't save you."

Your body arched involuntarily as the blade shifted again, the pain electric and all-consuming. You clawed weakly at his forearm, your strength insignificant against his iron grip.

"Such a fragile little thing," he mused, his voice almost amused. "And yet, you're still fighting. Adorable."

The humiliation burned hotter than the pain, yet you couldn't ignore the way his words sent an unwelcome thrill skittering down your spine. His masked face loomed closer, the hollow eyes seeming to drink in your every reaction.

"Why..." Why are you doing this?" you choked out, trembling under his hold.

His reply was cold, absolute. "Because I can."

The simplicity of his answer was more terrifying than the knife. It carried no malice, no justification, only a detached certainty that rendered your defiance meaningless. He tilted his head, studying you as if you were a curiosity.

"You're trembling," he said, his voice soft but edged with dark amusement. His gloved hand gripped your jaw, forcing your face to tilt up toward his. "Your fear is... intoxicating."

Your breath hitched as his hand travelled lower, a possessive touch that burned even through the barrier of his glove. "So small," he murmured, the words a cruel taunt. "So delicate. I could break you so easily."

Tears slipped down your cheeks, but his hand wiped them away, the leather rough against your skin. "Don't cry," he whispered, his tone darkly seductive. "Not yet. I want to see how far you can fall."

The knife twisted again, and the sound that escaped you was different this time, soft, breathless, a sound that betrayed far more than pain. His eyes narrowed behind the mask, the cruelty in his gaze sharpening with satisfaction.

"Do you like this?" he asked, his voice a dangerous purr. "Does the pain excite you?"

"N-no," you whispered, but the tremor in your voice betrayed the lie.

His chuckle was low, vibrating through the narrow space between you. "Liar," he said simply. "Your body doesn't lie."

Shame and fury warred within you, but his dominance was absolute. The weight of his presence, the heat of his body, and the unrelenting intensity of his gaze, it consumed you.

"You'll scream for me," he said, his voice soft but menacing, a promise etched in stone. "And when you do, it will be the sweetest sound I've ever heard."

You clung desperately to the shreds of your composure, but in your heart, you already knew the truth. You were his, trapped in a web of fear, pain, and something darker, something you couldn't name but couldn't deny.

His fingers tightened around your jaw, forcing your gaze back to his. The touch was demanding, almost domineering. His eyes were deep pools of brown, the colour of rich earth.

He whispered, his voice low and cold. The blade twisting agonisingly inside you...

"Scream."

Gif credits: @yumethefrostypanda

[talesfrommedinastation]

Let's talk about Chrisjen Avasarala's outfits in The Expanse

The first time we ever meet Deputy Undersecretary of the United Nations, Chrisjen Avasarala, she's chilling out in her fancy, cozy house, checking out her outfit and hair in the mirror, and playing with her grandson. She's rocking a lovely gold sari, huge earrings, and big ol' bangles.

Minutes later, she's still wearing that gorgeous shimmering outfit...as she's at a UN Black Site, interrogating a Belter terrorist who is being tortured using gravity.

(The whole scene is a masterclass in character introduction of a feminine, refined, powerful, badass. 10/10 writing).

But I want to talk Avasarala's outfit right here.

Saris are up to 9 feet in length and are often elegantly draped. You NEED gravity and resources to make the fabric work. Especially shimmering silky fabrics like that.

Doubly so for jewelry. Earrings cannot be worn like that under space helmets (I say from experience being an earring lover and motorcycle enthusiast) lest they damage the wearer or break. Bracelets would be impractical in space too, especially the bigger ones that clank and announce someone's presence, like Avasarala.

Point in, Avasarala marching in full regalia like that to a Belter is full flaunting of not only her heritage, but Earth's power and role. She is wearing a beautiful, rich, cultured outfit no Belter could ever wear in their lifetime and she knows it.

[lorddocmarten]

🦇Tips for Dressing Goth on Low-Spoons Days🦇

Note: I am low-support needs disabled, and what works for me might not work for you. I am not a doctor and cannot offer medical advice!

Black hair, baby. I dye my roots with $1.25 men's beard dye from the 'tree now, so that's pretty cost-effective, and you don't have to do anything for your hair to look 'goth'. I wouldn't recommend a mohawk because for it to look maximum cool, you have to style it, and that can take a while. My haircut now is shaved on the sides with short bangs and it looks goth even if I don't style it. It requires minimum maintenance, too.

Pre-layered accessories. Many necklaces- especially ones marketed for 80s costumes- are pre-layered and you only have to work with one clasp. Maximum style for minimum effort. You can find layered necklaces on Amazon, at Halloween stores, and I've even seen them in the costume section of thrift stores. There are also bangle stacks that function the same way.

Strega Fashion and Lagenlook- this might work for wheelchair users, depending on how long your flowy elements are. Lots of tunics and skirts and sweaters and fancy hooded tops, etc. Think of a dark, witchy vibe. Very comfortable and can be easy to style with clothes-you-find-at-Wal-Mart, and relatively cheap.

Nails. I LOVE having long dark red nails for maximum 'spoiled vampire prince' vibes, but sometimes having acrylics or press-ons can be too expensive, impractical, or maybe too femme for you. Whatever the case, I have more recommendations than your standard black nail polish- there's silver nail polish that makes your nails look mirror-like, red nail polish of all shades, purples, etc. For a more masculine, deathrock look you could experiment with dark, zombie-esque greens, or even neon shades to stand out against your darker clothing. Painting my nails can be hard for me due to my coordination issues, so I keep Q-tips nearby and soak them in acetone to clean up the edges.

Eyeliner- they sell jumbo eyeliner sticks and you can basically roll that about your eyes, smudge with your finger, and call it done in about one minute. I have yet to find a sharpener to go with mine, which is unfortunate, but these would seemingly be the way to go when you don't have the spoons to pull out the white base and all that.

Shave your eyebrows. Not necessarily for everybody, but it gives a more alien or 'more human than human' vibe to your look without makeup and makes me look infinitely more goth even in jeans and a t-shirt. YMMV.

Piercings, if you want them, can get them, won't affect your job, etc.- these always look pretty alternative especially when combined with each other. These combined with the black hair will do the job for you, in my opinion. I currently only have my ears double pierced but plan on getting my septum done soon.

[elaemae]

The premium version of human is here to wreck house, mfs.

[Twst x Obey Me!AFAB!reader]

CHP. 6

PREVIOUS CHAPTER: PROLOGUE 5

I get really happy every time one of you guys like, reblog, or comment on my chapters, Thanks guys :3

CW: ANYTIME that MC is referred with male address or pronouns it's going to be color blue. There's also a shit-ton of cursing here.

You can feel your blood pressure ascending into the Celestial Realm (faster than a newly deceased good person) as this Azul Asheng-something mf drags you into his oh-so-fancy "Monstro Lounge" while you're just peacefully trying to fuck off from his dorm.

You were unfortunately curious enough to go poke your head into the mirrors leading to the dorms to see what they've got and use it as inspiration, but then this greasy-ass bitch sadly spotted you and literally hounded you to go in.

You would've socked him in the face for a second time but it turns out that he's a pretty important figure in this school.

You don't really wanna get in trouble for doing that.

(You may be able to do it to Crowley but you don't know if this attempted-bangle-thief has influential parents or something.. Crowley meanwhile, acts pretty parent-less for you.)

You are keeping an eye on him though.

If he tries any bullshit then he's getting his ass kicked.

Social hierarchy be damned.

You didn't rein in 10 demons, 3 angels, The greatest sorcerer in all of humanity and The literal fuckin grim reaper, (who're all constantly dragging you onto bullshit as either an accomplice or the baby-sitter) just for some dude in an Emo-friendly-cut-my-life-into-pieces college to best you.

• • • •

Jade did a double-take.

"..."

He blinked.

Azul is sending him SOS signals by blinking morse code at him.

Jade rubbed his eyes for a few seconds.

"..."

Nope, still the same.

Azul: *Blinking for help intensifies*

...Pft–

He bit his lip to stop his laughter from escaping.

Who would've thought that he'll see a day where his precious housewarden is having his face passive-aggresively squished and kneaded by a new student? And also, probably getting himself threatened based on the eerie smile on the students' face.

Azul should be grateful that floyd isn't here, lest he'll have two people on his hands that are more than happy to squish him around. He should be grateful there isn't anyone else around, really.. Lest the reputation he took so long to build crumbles.

Oh he can just imagine it at the top of his head.. The poor octo-mer will probably combust from embarrassment and maybe even go find himself an octo-pot that he can shimmy himself into.. oh how he misses those days...

(Elae: I'm just imagining baby Azul shimmying into a lil pot.. Ugh, so adorable I'm getting cute aggression.)

He does eventually step in to stop the student from treating Azul's face like a squishy piece of dough He took a couple of pictures ofc. he ain't an amateur, but not before almost getting his own face fall victim to the new students' hands.

• • • •

"You try this shit again and see what happens." You smiled at him as you squished his face.

He's still holding onto your wrists but he seems to have given up from escaping your passive-aggresive face massage. Instead, he seems to have settled in blinking so fast he can almost fly with his eyelashes.

This bitch really had the audacity to try and get you to sell your jewelry to him in exchange for a room in his frankly unimpressive dorm. (You have more than a dozen rich and powerful simps. A dorm in a college ain't gonna be enough to impress you anymore.)

"— I know that you must not have any money to pay but maybe we can compromise, it's gonna be hard for you and your friend (Yuu) to keep staying in the infirmary after all.."

"We can manage—"

"And my benevolence will not allow me to let some poor unfortunate souls be without accommodations... So what if, for a week of stay each, you give me your jewelry in retur—"

You got so pissed at the audacity that you almost strangled him but changed your tactic into a hateful squeezing the last second. (You can't be reported for physically violent behavior rn.)

He speaks as if the entirety of this college and its dorms can actually be worth even a single piece of the ring in your left hand.

But seriously? 15,000 madols (that's the price Azul told you) for one night of stay?? If you're gonna be paying that much money for a single room, then that room better solve all your problems, fulfill your greatest ambitions and then suck your imaginary dick afterwards.

Your annoyed musings were cut off when a hand tries to remove your grip from Azul's face.

You absent-mindedly reach your other hand, trying to deliver another kneading to a new victim.

• • • • •

Azul covers his face with his hand, embarrassed of how the situation played out.

It doesn't help that Floyd is cackling like a deranged maniac at him right now.

Thank goodness they're in his office.

"Can you stOp?!"

Poor bbg was so embarrassed his voice cracked :<

Hmph.

Jokes on you, even if he got embarrassed today he still got closer to your jewelry.

And now, he can 100% confirm that those ornaments aren't just for decorations.

The strong magic from your rings that were pressed against his face confirmed it.

Those things are definitely custom-made magical artifacts of the highest caliber.

Now.. How to get them...

• • • • •

You stopped walking, feeling someone's gaze on you.

Looking around discreetly, you didn't see anyone but you can still feel the eyes on your form.

Yeah no.

You continue on, ignoring the feeling of being watched, but not going to dark places or spots where you'll be all alone.

Time to check in on Yuu and their unwilling gang of window cleaners.

See if they're done already.

The sun is starting to go down, after all.

• • • • •

Mc... We're going to come find you.

Don't worry..

Please stay safe..

Please don't forget that we love you more than anything else in existence..

0u® |!gHt įN tH€ d@RkN€§$

← Pr. 5 | Chapter List | Pr. 7 →

EDIT: WTF WHY DID THIS CHAPTER GET POSTED?! I SAVED IT IN THE GODDAMN DRAFTS THIS AIN'T SUPPOSED TO BE DONE YET WHAT THE HELL?!

Oh welp, ain't nothing I can do about it now..

Thanks for reading this far, readers☺️

Reblog or I'll bite ya ankles😈

@f0uerleafedcl0ver

@leviathans-tail-scales

@a-traveling-void-human

@xingyunny

@caprinaesprout (should I put you in the permanent tag list for this series?)

Tagging isn't working for some reason so I can't tag some of y'all. The usernames I tagged just fuckin disappearing.

Tumblr is messing with me rn.

You wanna throw hands, Tumblr??

[raayllum]

ALRIGHT, time to talk about the poster in lovely HD.

First things first, I want to talk about these two ladies (?). The upper one closer to the moon looks more like an elf, and is gazing down at the second, closer woman. I've seen people speculate Ziard due to the hair, but none of this usual clothing appendages are there, so I lean towards a new character, and possibly being the human Aaravos had a special connection to. We see what looks like the arches of the Moon Nexus framed behind them, which was the case both when Rayla went through the portal in TTM and when Lujanne used historia viventum to show Callum the way things looked before. Souls of hate and love, maybe?

We see other Moon symbols throughout the posture sure as archangel lunarises, which seek out Moon magic (1x01) and can be used in illusion spells (2x03, 3x09). We also see the enchanted lotuses from 3x03, though for what purpose is unclear (more on that later).

Moving down, we have a fully celestial, quite happy Aaravos. He's in full flourish and clearly using Moon magic for someone, as begetting the moon behind him, though whether he's constructing lotuses or channeling energy into his Key (perhaps making it able to sense Moon magic) is unknown. While the lotuses in 3x03 were occasionally different colours, the deep purple here makes me think of dark magic. If he is channeling his cube, perhaps he's taking moon energy from the lotuses (or moths) surrounding him to put inside.

I don't think I need to scream much further than I already have about the Moon rune glowing on his Key and having it displayed with his usual star symbol (rune cube foreshadowing symbolism my beloved). This bodes well for theories in which 1) Callum goes too far and does something knowingly risky to free the Moon fam for Rayla's sake or 2) does something risky to help Aaravos to protect Rayla's life, each subsequently to being possessed and/or playing into Aaravos' hands. Thank you goodnight.

Then we have the book, which is deeply fascinating. It seems like a very Moon book, the fragments framing it similar to the ones we see on the lotuses and possibly evoking one of the archangel lunaris' flying around. It wouldn't surprise me if the book contains a variant of Deep moon magic of some kind, whatever that would look like. The crescent curved moon is also similar to the symbol we see on Aaravos' poem page for the Midnight Star in show (2x08). I do wonder why each side of the book looks so different though, with no actual visible moon in sight besides the tiny gemstones and the crescent moon, the other side being entirely dark (which, to be fair, is pretty moon-y).

We also sort of but don't quite see Aaravos' famous chest piece, though it is a-glowing. Whether it glowed all the time pre-Fall we just don't know, as the only time we've seen it glow/be filled in is 2x09 when he's channeling magic through Viren, but who knows. It does mean that the cube is even older than his banishment and that if it does hold his chest piece, it was placed after (if it's tangible at all, which has always been one of the biggest questions).

This is perhaps the weirdest thing that I am the most interested in, as alongside his crown and bangles, this is the biggest design difference between Aaravos in-show and out. In show, both in his mirror and even 'pre-Fall' (aka the timeline for the 1x01 shot is probably a lie anyway), Aaravos' hip thingy is a lot more simplistic.

However, Aaravos does have all his flowery (and I mean that literally, it looks like petals) adornment in his concept art.

The fact they have a lotus flower flair to them always felt interesting but ultimately like a coincidence, but perhaps not. Either way as pictured below, it seems like he's either constructing or dismantling the lotuses, which is Eyes Emoji either way.

The most... surely metaphorical / abstract portion of the poster, though, is I'd imagine the very bottom. I hesitate to read into things too literally (one of the S5 posters had Finnegrin's ship being blasted with lightning and Domina watching the waves, and while she featured in the season and played a role in Finnegrin's aims, the scene itself as portrayed did not come fully to fruition) so I'm gonna go with a more symbolic read, just as as disclaimer.

Lastly we have these two figures. I'm assuming the one in white is an elf and betting on young Aaravos or Leola, though it could be someone else connected to the Moon arcanum (the elven daughter who vouched for exiling rather than eliminating humanity?). The red and black shadow figure feels far more sinister (blood and stardust, anyone) but if you lighten the shadows, you get something even more... interesting, shall we say.

Rather than standing up straight, this figure almost seems to swoop down with a draconic like claw and a face that reminds me the most of Sir Sparklepuff's features, honestly, perhaps boasting a similar kind of blood (Viren's) and star (Aaravos) and dark magic (the staff?). It is also clearly moving toward the more humanoid figure on the bottom right, which gives a "corruption is reaching / coming for / offering things to you" sort of vibe.

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter one : honeymoon (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 6.7k

summary : you've been married off to a far away prince, turns out, he isn't your prince charming. however he did gift you a bodyguard as a wedding present.

warnings, etc. : arranged marriage, language

Absurd.

That is the only word that comes to mind as you stare at yourself in the mirror. “His favorite color is blue.” That’s what they had told you when they adorned you with the gaudy sapphire jewelry. “He’s going to love this.” That’s what they had told you as they pinned your hair into uncomfortable curls, braiding in unfamiliar flowers. They were horrendous, far too large and the smell of them nauseated you, or maybe that was just the nerves, who knows. If you were fortunate enough maybe you would discover a surprise allergy to the flowers and your throat would close and your face would turn blue. You wondered if the prince would like that.

Blue had once been a comforting color but not this blue. This blue was intense, harsh, hard to stare at for too long. Nothing like the blue that made you think of home. On the rare days where the snow stopped falling briefly and the sky was clear, Hoth was beautiful. The blue back home was quiet. The color of the sky seemed to swallow the snow and everything became one soft mix of periwinkle. This is not that. This is loud and garish.  

  The two girls who had been dressing you took a step back and smiled at you waiting for approval as you took in the sight of yourself in the floor length mirror. The dress itself was beautiful, if accompanied by tasteful accessories you might have actually found yourself almost nice to look at. A simple off the shoulder satin gown. On anyone else you were sure it would be absolutely stunning but it was so hot here, nobody had told you it would be this hot. The dress felt as though it was sticking to your skin, you hated the way it made you feel like you were trapped in some sort of fabric prison. But even with the thin sheen of sweat covering every inch of you it was the rest of the ensemble that made you look like you were supposed to be attending some sort of costume party, and not your own wedding. To say that the amount of accessories was excessive would be an understatement. Bracelets, bangles, arm bands, several tacky necklaces, even an anklet you couldn’t even see under the gown. All of the sapphires were so bright they seemed to glow, if you swayed your arms fast enough it almost mimicked the sight of hyperspace. The two ladies-in-waiting who had been assigned to you started to give each other nervous looks as you purse your lips silently taking in the ridiculous blue eyeshadow that adorned your otherwise unmade up face. The young Togruta girl speaks up first.

“Is everything to your liking ma’am?” 

No. You look like you should be working in a pleasure house, not marrying a prince.

But the anxiety in her voice is enough to soften your gaze as you speak what might be the first words to leave your mouth since you landed on Naboo. It seemed like everyone was comfortable speaking for you and you knew none of them cared what you had to say so why bother.

“You two have done a wonderful job… thank you.” You turned around to face them, giving them the warmest smile you could muster considering the circumstances. The relief on their faces as you spoke gave you more comfort than you’d had in days. “I am truly grateful to have such wonderful staff, thank you for making me feel so at home. I’m sorry I didn’t catch your names earlier?” 

“I am Elaine and this is Lysa.” The Togruta girl is the one who speaks up again, pointing to herself and then to the human girl. They both smiled as they turned you back towards the mirror and began to do last minute touch ups. You all stood in silence once more until Lysa spoke.

“You look so lovely, he is going to adore you.” She spoke softly, almost as if it was meant more for her own comfort than it was for yours as she straightened a flower in your hair.

He. That was how they referred to him. Nobody spoke of him other than to tell you how lucky you were, and how grateful you should be for this opportunity. No one described him to you in the slightest. No one even said his name, you were pretty sure it started with a “K.” Your betrothed was nothing more than a stranger. And as you stared at yourself in the mirror once more that was what you saw. A stranger. You didn’t recognize the woman in your reflection. She was not the young princess from Hoth, she was simply an item to entertain this “he.” Dolled up to be more appealing for a man she had never even met, adorned in his favorite color to make her more attractive to a man she had already decided she did not care for. 

“What is he like?” You cocked your head slightly as you deliberately observed the girls facial expressions for a reaction, you immediately regretted that decision because of the glance they gave each other. It was enough to make you not want to know the answer so you quickly stammer out another question. “What does he look like?” The Togruta girl clears her throat, you make a mental note that out of the two girls she seems to be the voice. 

“He is very handsome, my lady.” She straightens out your dress one last time and they both take a step back and observe you. “He dresses very well. Just like most of the royal family he has very defined features, striking blue eyes.”

“Oh yes my lady, he is very well known for his beautiful blue eyes.” The human girl smiles at you as she speaks nervously standing behind her partner now. A small part of you started to pray that his favorite color was not blue simply because that was the color of his eyes. They both seem to be struggling to come up with any other defining features of your intended which doesn’t exactly put you at ease. 

“He is also blonde.” Elaine chimes in with a reassuring smile as you watch your reflection frown.

You had always had a preference for brunettes. 

✩

He could be worse. 

That was what you had to keep reminding yourself as you sat now in the large dining hall, it seemed like everyone was laughing and chatting it up except for you. The seat to your left reserved for your husband was empty, you could see him in the crowd toasting with a group of men you assumed were cousins or brothers purely based on the physical similarities. Honestly you wouldn’t be able to tell your husband apart from the rest of them if he wasn’t wearing that horrendous electric blue suit. Your table at the back of the room, facing the rest of the hall, was empty. Save for you and Leodall. 

After your husband had so graciously run off after the ceremony to chat it up with his friends or whatever it was that was apparently much more important than you, you were walked to the reception by an orange Twi’lek who introduced himself as your personal servant, Leodall, Leo for short. No one seemed to even glance at you as they began to take to the dance floor. Of course your loving husband didn’t ask you to dance, why would he when he seemed to be taking the hand of a rather pretty red headed girl and wrapping his arms around her waist, laughing as they began to sway to the music. Prince Kodo Harand. That was his name, at least that is what the priest had said during the ceremony. He had given you a rather cocky “hello” once you had walked down the aisle, and he had kissed you with far more tongue than you would have liked, and now you sat alone. Princess Harand. Lucky you. And of course your family wasn’t here to keep you company, you don’t even think they were invited, why would they be? This wedding had nothing to do with you, it had everything to do with finding someone of royal descent to marry the prince of Naboo in exchange for trade deals. You wondered if there had ever been someone who felt as lonely as you did right now, at their own wedding. 

“Leo?” You turned to where he was standing directly behind you. He was also staring at the prince with a rather annoyed look on his face.

“Yes my lady?” He turned his gaze to you. He was far too serious for someone who only seemed to be a few years older than you were.

“I am getting rather tired, I should like to retire to my chambers.” 

You also should like to not watch my husband dance with some of the most gorgeous girls you’ve ever seen. Seems like he has found a rather attractive brunette now to keep him company on the dance floor. Leo looks to the prince and then back to you.

“It is rather early my lady… perhaps you could stay just a bit longer? It is after all your wedding.”

“Is it?” You couldn’t help but raise your eyebrows at him, gesturing to the empty chairs surrounding you. Before he could object you stood and began marching towards the exit. 

“My lady! Perhaps you might enjoy some refreshments! And perhaps you might reconsider your early departure!” Even in the gown you were more agile than him as you weaved through the crowds, waving off muttered “congratulations.” Once through the large doors of the great hall you felt as though you could finally breathe. The halls out here were dark, a few guards seemed to be passing around a flask but they immediately straightened up as they saw you, you pretended not to see them, hoping they might resume they’re drinking. After all, someone should have fun at your wedding. You lifted your skirt slightly and tried to remember where your room was as Leo finally caught up to you.

“Was it right or left…?” You stare down the nearly identical hallways as you hear two sets of footsteps approaching you.

“Wife! Where are you off to? I have a wedding present for you!” How fortunate that you married someone with such a distinct, nasally voice so you can plaster on a faux smile before you face him. You turned to see a disgruntled Leo following behind Kodo. Great. Your clearly drunk husband has a present for you on your wedding night. You have to physically resist rolling your eyes as he takes your hand and begins dragging you towards your chambers, Leo stumbling to keep up with you.

“Are you sure this cannot wait until tomorrow dear husband?” It’s unlikely he’ll want to put this off but there’s no shame in trying. 

“No no no… trust me you are going to love this…” 

Well he certainly is confident in his abilities.

He stumbles through the many confusing halls of the castle until arriving at your door, stopping just outside. He opens the door just a crack and peers inside before shutting it again, putting his hands on your shoulders, a big dopey grin on his face as he drunkenly slurs. 

“I must be getting back to the party my dear wife but your present is inside, I left you a little note on your vanity.” He leans forward and gives you a sloppy kiss, you do your best not to recoil.

“I’m sorry? I don’t quite understand?” You managed to pull him off you long enough to speak. But he’s already walking away.

“Do not fret, wife, you will love it. I will see you at dinner in a few days!” He yells over his shoulder before rushing back down to the party. You turn to stare at Leo who is just as shocked as you are as you can’t help but double over in laughter.

“Is he serious?” You’re laughing so hard you’re practically crying, Leo doesn’t seem to find the situation as funny as you do. You wipe a tear from your lash line as you straighten up. “If our marriage is anything like today has been I suppose it shall not be all that bad.” You manage to say through your laughter. He doesn’t speak, he simply opens the doors to your chambers for you, placing his hand on your back to usher you inside.

“I suppose I should not have expected any less of our prince.” Leo mutters as he closes the door behind the two of you he begins lighting the lamps around the dark room. “Shall I summon your ladies-in-waiting to help you undress my lady?” You open your mouth to answer but you’re stopped dead in your tracks as you stare at the suit of armor in the center of the room. The mannequin it appears to be resting on is rather tall. You can’t help but stare at the way the lamp light flickers against the Beskar. A Mandalorian statue? What an odd gift. You instinctively walk towards it as you mumble.

“That won’t be necessary… it is late, do not wake them, I can do it myself.” Leo looks as if he is about to protest but the note on the vanity catches his eye, he holds it between two fingers and begins to read it to himself as you stand directly in front of the armor now, your fingers raised to trace one of the gauntlets. “It certainly is a beautiful set of armor… I just don’t understand what exactly he wants me to do with it.” You run your hands across the chestplate, admiring the fine craftsmanship before you turn to face Leo, a concerned look on your face. 

This better not be a weird sex thing.

“He doesn’t expect me to wear it, does he? Is this some sort of weird fetish of his?” You find yourself looking back to the armor nervously. “It’s far too large for me… I think I would look rather foolish, like a child wearing her mothers clothing...” You bring a hand up to the helmet, a small shiver running down your spine as you stare into the lifeless visor. 

“Princess… perhaps you should wait a moment.” Leo stares at the note for a moment more before his mouth opens slightly to speak again as he gives you a warning look. But it is too late, you lift the helmet a fraction of an inch and let out a startled shriek as the armor shifts to grab both of your arms in one large hand, pulling your hand back down.

“Don’t.”

 The voice that comes from the modulator is low, it is gentle with you but is by no means joking as he releases his grip on your arm you stumble backwards. 

“Maker! You scared me half to death.” You bring your hand up to your chest as Leo rushes to your side to stabilize you, you stare at the Mandalorian in surprise for a moment before your gaze turns angry and you poke a finger into his chest. “What is your problem! Why didn’t you say something!?” He only shrugs in response.

“I was instructed not to speak to you until you read the note.” 

Bastard. 

Leo leans forward to whisper to you.

“It should appear that the prince has hired the Mandalorian to be your personal bodyguard, my lady.” Leo’s voice shakes as he stares up at the intimidating silhouette of the armored man but you are not so easily swayed, clearing your throat as you speak.

“You are dismissed Leo.” Your eyes never leave the steel visor.

“My lady, are you sure it is wise-”

“If my husband deems him fit to protect me then he is fit to protect me. Unless of course you are questioning the prince’s judgment?” You turn to glare at the Twi’lek who is now nervously tugging at the sleeves of his shirt. He does nothing but stare back at you for what feels like minutes until he finally sighs and makes a beeline for the door.

“As you wish, my lady. Ring for me if you require anything.” He closes the door and you turn back to the Mandalorian, who unsurprisingly hasn’t moved an inch, other than the way his helmet seems to shake ever so slightly but you ignore it as you walk over to your vanity, crumpling up the note and tossing it in the bin before starting to remove your jewelry, setting the ugly pieces onto the table.

“So what exactly is your job?” You don’t give him the courtesy of facing him, not after he scared you like that. 

“It was all written in the note.” 

It’s annoying how unbothered he sounds. You take off the last piece of jewelry, lifting your skirt and raising your leg to rest your foot on the ottoman to unclasp the anklet, you swear you see his helmet tilt in your direction in the mirror, but when you turn to face him he is in the same position, staring at the wall.

“I don’t care about the note. I want to hear it from you.” You fetch yourself a nightgown as you step behind the screen next to the vanity, carefully slipping out of the dress, out of sight of the Mandalorian.

“My job is to make sure you are not harmed.” He speaks so quietly you’re surprised the modulator even picks up his voice. Once dressed you step out from behind the screen and take a seat at the vanities mirror, wearing a gray silk nightgown. It’s fancier than what you’d usually wear but it doesn’t seem like they bothered to unpack any of your clothes you brought from home. You silently pray that they didn’t throw them away.

“So you just… follow me around?” You can feel the frown forming as you begin to carefully remove the now wilting flowers from your hair.

“Yes.” 

Not much of a talker this guy.

“Actually I’m good.” Your voice is snippy and you know you’re being a bit blunt but you’ve had a rough day. Finally, he deliberately moves, his head turning to watch as you undo the pin curls, your hair falling down in waves as you do.

“Excuse me?” Finally, some sign of emotion. Even if it is a twinge of anger.

“Can you not hear through the helmet? I’m good. I’ve already got an ensemble of people trailing me. I don’t need another.” You rifle through the drawers until you find a rag to wipe the makeup from your eyes before turning around to stare at him. “You’re dismissed.” 

“You don’t have the authority to dismiss me.” His voice is tense, if you could see his face you were sure he’d be scowling. It’s good to know he is capable of emotion. Even better to know it isn’t difficult to rile him up.

“I don’t know if you know this but I just married the eldest son of the king and queen. That makes me the future queen, I’m pretty sure I have the authority to do whatever I please.” You hadn’t said those words aloud until now, you hadn’t even thought them. It lifted a weight off your shoulders, somehow it made things a bit easier, to know that despite this entire situation you found yourself in that at the very least you found yourself in a position of power.

“I don’t know if you know this, but I have direct orders from the eldest son of the king and queen to not let you out of my site from the moment you leave this room until you return to it.” He mocks your tone exactly as he crosses his arms.

Shit. He’s got you there. Did Kodo have to pick this man to guard you?

“Well… I’m in this room now. So I don’t require your presence. You may go.” You wish you could come up with something more witty but you're tired, you just want to be alone, to have a single moment to try and process what a whirlwind these last few days have been. You swear you hear an annoyed huff come through his modulator. 

“I’ll see you in the morning.” His voice is sharp and he speaks with a finality that makes you want to argue further.

But he doesn’t give you time to respond. He simply leaves. Once he is gone you rush to the door to lock it and begin to dim all the lamps in the room. In the pale light you stare at the comically large bed and your stomach drops. For the first time since arriving on Naboo you feel cold. The idea of spending your wedding night in such a big bed alone makes you feel sick. Were the ceilings of this room always so high? You find yourself opening the closet. It’s the size of your room back home, it’s perfect. All of the fabric of the unfamiliar clothes that were now yours made it quiet, and soft, and warm. You grabbed a lamp from one of the many small tables around the room, (who needs this many tables?) and bring it to the closet, closing the door behind you as you rummage through the many drawers until you find one full of blankets and pillows, making yourself a nest before settling down in it. It was just as comfortable as your bed back home and you wrapped yourself around one of the larger pillows.

You wanted to cry. 

You should be crying but you're not. You’re just staring at the flickering lamp. There were a million things you could think about to make yourself cry but at this point it wasn’t even worth it. You’re tired, and there will be plenty of time for crying later, after all this was your life now. So instead you closed your eyes and pretended you weren’t here at all, that you were back home, and you weren’t completely alone, your many siblings were just down the hall in their respective rooms. But they aren’t, they’re back on Hoth. You’re on Naboo. They are all still together. 

And you are alone.

✩

He won’t leave you alone. 

It’s been ten days since the wedding but it feels like ten months. And the Mandalorian will not leave you alone. You have only seen your husband twice since the wedding, short dinners the night of every fifth cycle, last night he had told you that he saw no need to produce an heir until his father died.

How romantic.

But as much as you yearn for companionship you cannot help but be grateful that he has not ever joined you in bed. He doesn’t repulse you by any means but he just seems… indifferent. Like he couldn't care less for you, which is fine considering you aren’t exactly infatuated with him. But you’re lonely nonetheless. Conversations with your husband are one sided, once you realize he doesn’t care for anything that comes out of your mouth your dinners become much less awkward, he would ramble on about anything he found interesting for an hour and then leave. You heard a servant in passing whisper something about him going to a brothel after your second dinner. You wanted to be more upset about that but you just couldn’t find it in yourself to care. As long as it kept him out of your chambers. 

Elaine and Lysa are sweet but they are clearly intimidated by you, or at the very least they are afraid of upsetting you. So you’ve found that it’s best to just not talk to them at all unless it is to praise them or thank them. They show up like clockwork every morning to dress you and in the evening to undress you. You’re starting to feel like a doll. But they do not comment on the makeshift bed in the closet so you decide they are your favorites. Leo on the other hand has made it quite clear he doesn’t approve of your sleeping situation, you don’t bother trying to explain yourself because you know he won’t care, so now you let him watch you get under the covers of your ornate bed every night before you retreat to the closet. He can be a bit uptight and he’s terrible at conversation but the best thing about Leo is that he doesn’t hover. You honestly don’t know where he runs off to but he’s always there when you need him and he doesn’t overstay his welcome. 

Speaking of overstaying his welcome, you can see the Mandalorian over the top of the book you are currently pretending to read. 

He has become your least favorite person in your new life. He is ranked even lower than Kodo. You were currently dedicating your life to exploring every inch of the castle and mapping it out, you had taken to carrying around a small journal and noting locations you liked and places to avoid. This might be an enjoyable challenge if it weren’t for the walking hunk of metal that seemed to always be standing just out of arm's reach from you. It’s infuriating the way he always stands in your peripherals, you are always aware of his presence even when you are doing everything in your power to ignore him. 

Neither of you had spoken much since your first meeting. He had been rude, why would you speak to him? (Of course you had been rude as well but that's besides the point.) He waits outside your door every morning, and he is there when you return at night. Two days ago you had daydreamed about escaping out the window to avoid him, but considering your chambers were on the fourth floor you decided against it. 

A few days ago was when you had reached your boiling point. He had to sleep eventually, that was what you had told yourself as you opened the door to your chambers at 3 a.m. Under all that metal he was still just a person. (Or at least you were pretty sure he was.) So you donned a robe and a glowrod as you slipped into the hall. For the first time he wasn’t standing there. You just had to find your way to the library, you wanted a few books and you didn’t want to feel his steel gaze judging your every choice, you wanted something cheesy and romantic, something you could read in the closet when you couldn’t sleep. (Which was most nights.) Everytime he followed you into the library you found yourself too nervous to read so now was your chance. Surprisingly it only took you a few minutes to find it. Creeping inside you managed to find five books, clutching them in your arms you stepped back out in the hall and as you closed the library doors as quietly and quickly as you could you turned around and slammed into metal, stumbling backwards and landing on your ass, your books going everywhere. 

“Gods…” You groaned in pain as the back of your head knocked against the door, your eyes adjusted to the darkness as the glowrod illuminated a familiar pair of boots. “You are just- the nerve of you- I can’t even begin to-” Your mind stuttered through a million different insults but eventually you just gave up, huffing angrily as you picked up the light, he reached down to help you up and you shoved his gloved hands away. Leaving the books, you storm off, back towards what you hope is the direction of your room. He didn’t speak as he followed silently behind you, the only indication that he was still there was the reflection of the dim light against Beskar. You looked down two hallways trying fruitlessly to remember which way to go.

“Left.” 

Maker, he didn’t even sound tired. If looks could kill the glare you gave him as you turned left would have him six feet under. As you finally see the doors to your chamber you sigh in relief, just wanting to forget about this silly attempt to have a moment of normalcy. 

“I knew that.” Is all you can manage to mutter, still fuming to the point that you know you can’t form witty insults as you open your chamber doors.

“Sure you did.” 

As you turn to give him a piece of your mind you find yourself in the dark corridor alone. Oh you hate him. This is why he is your least favorite.

You don’t know much about Mandalorians, your mother had always said they were dangerous but that was all that was ever said about the topic. He doesn’t seem all that threatening. Sure he’s tall, and his shoulders were ludicrously broad, and he wore impenetrable armor but you’ve been sitting here staring at him for two hours now and honestly you were pretty sure at this point that you could beat him in a fight.  

Okay you might be starting to lose it. 

You haven’t had a real conversation with anyone since your wedding night, it’s not your fault if you’re starting to feel a little scatterbrained. Maybe you could push him out a window. That armor certainly wouldn’t save him from a fall. That might be too risky, with your luck you’ll end up going out the window with him. As you begin to ponder if Beskar is fireproof a familiar modulated voice breaks the silence causing you to drop your book in shock.

“Don’t.” 

In your fantasies of knocking a candle over onto his cape you hadn’t realized his helmet was facing you now.

“You really seem to love that word.” You cock an eyebrow at him. “You also seem to love scaring unsuspecting girls.” You mumble. 

“I heard that.” 

Stupid helmet with its stupid abilities. You really need to start keeping a list of what that thing is capable of. Maybe the helmet is what makes his stupid voice so deep.

“Of course you did.” You lean back in your chair as you look him up and down. “What exactly is it that you don’t want me doing?” 

“Don’t act like you can outsmart me.” 

Wiseass. 

“I wasn’t doing that, I don’t know if you can see through that visor of yours but I was reading.” You scoff at him as you cross your arms.You hear him hum softly through the modulator as he walks in your direction, standing between you and the book on the floor.

“What were you reading?” 

Dank Farrik.

You’re pretty sure you can see his shit-eating grin through the Beskar. 

“I’m not even going to humor the accusation you’re getting at.” For a split second you swear you catch the start of a laugh before his modulator cuts it off. Soundproof, you can add that to the list. He leans up against a bookshelf as he stares down at you now.

“Maybe it was another romance novel?” Maker, he's the worst. You fight back the pink that threatens to tint your face as you play dumb.

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t be.” You wondered if you could have him beheaded. Do they do public executions on Naboo?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about..” Is all you can manage to spit out as you reach to a nearby shelf and grab the first book your fingers touch, it looks to be some sort of architecture guide. Better than nothing. “Leave me be, I’m trying to read.” You open the book quickly and as your eyes glance across the pages, much to your dismay, you don’t recognize the language it’s in, he doesn’t need to know that though.

“You left some books out a few nights ago.”

You try to hide the way your breath hitches. There’s no way he went back for them. Unless he did. Why would he do that though there would be no reason. Why is your heart racing like you’re on trial? Why can’t you stop the pink that tinges the tips of your ears?

“I read a lot of books, you can’t possibly expect me to remember every one.” You turn a page and continue scanning your eyes across the unfamiliar text. 

“The Smitten Paladin… My Barbarian Love… Interstellar Bride… The Tongues of-”

“SHUT UP.” You slam the book shut and you can’t fight the rose tint that fills your face now. 

“As you wish, princess.” 

Oh you were definitely gonna kill him now. How hard would it be to get your hands on a vibroblade…? You didn’t speak now, you couldn’t even look at him. There’s no way he had seen those that night when you dropped them, the bastard went back for them. If you could find out where is quarters were maybe you could smother him in his sleep. You assumed he would resume his mockery of you but he never did, he just stared for several minutes as you returned to your book, doing your best to pretend that you knew what it was about until he finally broke the silence. 

“So how were you thinking of doing it?” 

“Doing what?”

“Outsmarting me. Or escaping me, or killing me? Whichever one it was you were plotting.”

You wonder if he was sweating under all those layers as you allowed yourself the first indulgence of really taking him in. He wears heavy black fabric under all of his armor. You wore light and flowy dresses and you always felt like it was too hot. You also can’t stop yourself from wondering if he purposefully makes his voice lower, he must scream into a pillow or something to make it that raspy. You didn’t like how warm it suddenly got in here. This stupid planet and its stupid heat. 

“Well I can’t just tell you my top secret plans, what will you give me in exchange?” You hated the way his helmet tilted to the side to mimic you. 

“How about a walk through the gardens?” 

“We have gardens?” Your eyebrows furrow in disbelief, just when you thought you were starting to map this place out… He nods and you ponder it for a moment before holding your hand out for a handshake. “Deal.” He takes your hand in his and gives you one firm shake but you hold him there and stare at his hand. “Your gloves are stupid, why are the fingers yellow?” He groans as he pulls away.

As he pulls his hand back you catch a glimpse of his bare wrist. You hadn’t really thought about what he might look like under the armor up until now. You’re sort of surprised by how tan his skin is. As you stare for what is definitely too long he clears his throat and you find yourself face to face with his visor. 

Shit, shit shit. 

“Sorry, I got distracted by how stupid your gloves are.”

“Keep talking like that and I won’t take you to the gardens at all.”

“That’s fine, now that I know they exist I’ll just find them on my own.” You stand up, making your way towards the library exit.

“You do realize I follow you everywhere right?” 

“You’re very observative aren’t you?” You scoff.

“You won’t find them on your own. You’ve lived here two weeks and you still can’t find your room without help from Leo.” 

“This is why you’re my least favorite.”

“What?” He doesn’t even pretend to sound hurt, his voice is filled with genuine curiosity and for a fleeting moment you want to give in because for the first time in weeks you aren’t thinking about how alone you are in a castle surrounded by people. Because for the first time since you arrived on this planet you were having a real conversation, and even though you hated him he was the first person who seemed like he actually cared about what you had to say, and not just because you were royalty and it was his job.

“Do you want to hear about my secret plans or not?” You decide to change the subject and watch as for the first time, he walks next to you, not behind you, as he nods.

“I’d love to know how you plan on getting away from a trained bounty hunter.” 

Bounty hunter. You’ll have to ask him about that later if he allows you to keep talking to him. A small part of you hopes that he will. 

“I thought I might start by pushing you off of something high up.” You grin at him. You can’t remember the last time you smiled and it wasn’t for the benefit of others.

“Wouldn’t work.”

“Oh come on, your armor isn’t gonna save you from a fall from one of the castle towers-” He pulls back his cape to reveal a jetpack and you shut up. “Okay new plan, I throw your pack off the roof first.” He nods.

“You would never be able to get it off me but sure. Next plan.” Maker, you hate how smug he is. You want to slap the stupid smile you have to assume he is currently donning off of his face. 

“Well I really only had two plans, plan number two was to light your cape on fire.” 

“Fire’s not gonna kill me, that's just gonna make me angry.”

“Well in that situation I wouldn't be trying to kill you, the fire would be a distraction as I make my escape.”

“There is not a single situation in this world in which you are capable of hiding from me.” 

Why does he have to say it so huskily? Why does it suddenly feel so hot in this stupid castle? You decide he deliberately makes his voice sound deeper to make himself more intimidating. 

You open your mouth to protest but you remember the bounty hunter thing and decide to save yourself from any more embarrassment. He stops walking and you stare at the familiar doors to your chambers.

“Hey! You promised me gardens!” He opens the door for you before taking a step back.

“It’s too late for gardens. We’ll go tomorrow.” You want to argue, you want to do anything to keep talking to him, even if you loathe him and his terrible attitude. But you don’t want to ruin this, and a part of you likes the prospect of more conversation tomorrow. 

“Promise?” You hate how eager you sound.

“Promise.”

You begin to step inside your chambers but he puts a hand on your shoulder. It makes you let out a small gasp as you turn to face him.

“Before you go I have to tell you something, princess.” The voice that comes from the modulator is hushed, he leans in as if he is going to tell you a secret and your eyes get wide, you can see your reflection in his helmet, your face is going pink again.

“W-what…?” It’s embarrassing the way you stutter but he’s so close now that you can’t help it, if he got any closer your breath would fog up the Beskar. You had no idea what he was about to say but for some reason your heart was beating out of your chest. God what is wrong with you today? The heat must be messing with your head.

“It was in Galactic Basic.” 

Well now he just wasn’t making any sense. Maybe the heat was messing with his head too.

“I don’t care for riddles.” 

“Your book, earlier, the one about architecture. The one that you couldn’t understand.” He takes a step back and you furrow your brows, how the hell did he know you didn’t understand it, but more importantly, obviously you spoke Galactic Basic.

“I didn’t realize you were capable of telling jokes.”

“You were holding it upside down.” His hand drops from your shoulder and he takes a step back, waiting for a response but any snarky comeback dies on your tongue as your face burns up, realizing he’s right. Is he leaning forward in anticipation? 

Scumbag.

“Good night, Mando.” As you start to close the door you can hear him chuckling. 

“Good night, princess.”  

Jackass. You hope that he’s ugly under the helmet. 

You also hope he’s brunette.

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

[ladykailitha]

New Year's Eve

Hi!! I hope you all had a great year this year and that the next one is even better.

This is a sequel to this so be sure to read that first.

It does get spicy and there is a trigger warning for homophobic language (Steve's mom is a bitch).

Summary: Eddie and Steve ring in the new year as lovers and inspire others to do the same. Steve's mom tries to make trouble, but trouble finds her instead. All and in all, it's been a good year.

***

“I can’t wear that!” Eddie protested. “I’m going to the Newfield! I’m pretty sure it’s black tie to even breathe in its direction!”

Chrissy raised her eyebrow. “Do you want to know what Steve told me when asked me to help find you something to wear?”

Eddie looked at the red silk button up, the tight leather pants, the chunky boots and grey vest and then back up at her.

He sighed heavily. “Something about being me?”

“Close,” she admitted. “He told me that he wanted to make sure you stood out as the artist. That you were on display as much as your artwork. That people would look at you and go ‘yes, that is the master’. His words, not mine. But you don’t have to wear this. We can find something else.”

Eddie reached out to rub the silk of the shirt between this finger and his thumb.

“I’ll try it on first.”

Chrissy nodded.

He got dressed slowly, taking the time to admire each piece that Chrissy had picked out for him. The pants first. He loved the way they hugged his body without being skin tight. He pulled on the boots, happily twisting in the mirror. They went easily over the pants and highlighted how long his legs were.

Next came the shirt. It was a lot looser than he expected, making it almost billowy in nature. The silk felt divine against his skin. Chrissy tucked it into his pants and rolled up the sleeves. It kinda bunched at the waist, but when he put on the vest, it covered that immediately.

The whole ensemble was set off with leather bangles and chain bracelets on his wrists, a few necklaces that would show off the skin of the first three buttons of the shirt undone.

No earrings, though.

“I wanted earrings and to put your hair up,” Chrissy lamented. “But Steve said he liked your hair down.”

Eddie blushed. He had told Steve that a lot people seemed to think that because he had it long, he had to pull it back. But unless he was painting, Eddie liked it loose.

The fact that Steve had argued on his behalf in favor of leaving it down sent butterflies dancing in his ribcage.

“I like it,” Eddie said, looking into Chrissy’s three way mirror. “It’s classy without taking away who I am.”

Chrissy nodded. “Then I did my job right. I can’t believe I get to be your plus one at this.”

“Steve wanted to be my plus one,” Eddie said. “But then he found out he got ten free tickets to this it made the point moot.”

“Which means all your friends and family get to come,” Chrissy said with a fond smile.

He laughed. “More like he gets to invite all the kids because I also got ten free tickets as the featured artist.”

Her eyes went wide. “Really? So this going to be a blast tonight, isn’t it?”

He turned around a couple more times in the mirror. “Oh hell yeah!”

She clapped excitedly.

“Now show me your dress, Cinderella!” he crowed pushing her in the direction of her closet.

Chrissy giggled and pulled out a garment bag. She unzipped it and pulled out a long silver sheath dress with long sleeves and plunging neckline.

“Try it on and give me a twirl, love!” Eddie cooed.

She got out the underwear she was going to wear with it and slipped behind the mirror. Once she was dressed she stepped out and slowly spun in a circle.

Eddie wolf whistled. “You are going to finally bag that lesbian you’ve had your eye on with the dress, girly. You look fantastic!”

She tugged at the sleeve a little. “You don’t think it’s too much?”

Eddie picked her up and spun her around. “I think it’s perfect for an art exhibition.”

She blushed. “Yeah, okay. Let’s finish getting ready. We have to be at the Newfield by three so you can get everything how you want it.”

Eddie didn’t have much more to do so he wandered the loft a bit. It was strange to see it so empty. But all his artwork was either hung up or displayed to be auctioned off.

When Chrissy joined him, she had another garment bag and black silk shirt and deep blue vest.

“What’s this for?” he asked as he took the hanger from her.

“The exhibition tonight,” she said. “You can’t wear the same thing you wore to the auction, babe.”

He blinked at her in confusion. “Why not?”

“People are snobs,” was her curt response.

Eddie frowned but a slow smile spread over his face. “Does that mean that Steve has change too?”

Chrissy smacked his arm. “No sex in the Newfield, you heathen!”

“Well, someone has to pin the art to the walls,” he replied with a smirk.

She stared at him wide-eyed. “Did you just call Steve a work of art?”

“Yup!”

“Oh god,” she sighed. “This is going to be a long night.”

Eddie kissed her cheek. “You love me though.”

Chrissy batted him away. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

*

The auction was huge success and they ended up raising more than three million dollars for “Roll Initiative”.

And according to Steve there would probably be checks waiting for them at the end of the night, too.

Eddie was sad to see the blue jewel toned tux Steve had been in for the auction go, but the outfit he arrived in for the exhibition more than made up for it.

He was all in black with matching long tie and pocket square. From a distance you almost couldn’t see the tie at all. It made Eddie feel things. Uncomfortable things considering how tight these leather pants were.

Eddie was coming back with two glasses of champagne for him and Steve when he saw the most elegant woman he had ever laid eyes on in his life chatting with him.

He got a little closer and realized they weren’t chatting, it was far too heated for a chat.

“I don’t even know why you’re here, Mom,” Steve was saying.

Mrs. Harrington waved him off. “All board members get tickets to these sort of events and when I heard you had booked the night, I just had to see who my son would pick for his little pet artist.” She wrinkled her nose. “But I wasn’t expecting this.” She waved her hand at the artwork on the wall.

“And what’s wrong with it?” he asked, furrowing his brow.

She flicked his forehead. “Don’t scowl, Steven. You don’t have much good looks to ruin, but don’t ruin what you have.”

Eddie had bite the inside of his cheek to avoid throwing hands with this woman.

Steve leveled her with a glare. “You could have looked up who he was, Mom. You didn’t have to come.”

Mrs. Harrington sneered. “What if I wanted to see my son? To see what he had done with all the money his father had left him?

Steve straightened up. “Don’t act like you didn’t get the lion’s share of Dad’s money when he died.”

“It was the least he could do considering he died of a heartache in that woman’s bed!” she hissed.

Steve barely suppressed a giggle, Eddie did not. She turned to him and critically eyed his clothes, his hair, his tattoos.

“And who are you supposed to be?” Mrs. Harrington snarled.

Eddie walked up to Steve and handed him a glass. Then with his free hand, slid it around Steve’s waist.

Steve leaned into Eddie’s side, soaking up the warmth and support. “This is Eddie Munson, Mom. The artist being shown tonight and my boyfriend.”

Contempt darkened her face as she looked him over again. “Just like your father, throwing events for the whores that grace his bed as favors. I thought you better than this, Steven.”

Eddie bristled but Steve laughed outright. “Oh, Mom. You know nothing about me if you think that. When was this event put on the schedule?”

Mrs. Harrington wiggled her shoulders. “I wouldn’t know, dear.”

“Bullshit,” Steve snapped. “You know very well when it was.”

She glared at him. “Fine, back in August. I don’t know the exact date.”

“The seventeenth. For the silent auction,” Steve acknowledged. “When was it turned into the double event.”

She squirmed under his gaze until she folded. “After Thanksgiving.”

Eddie turned to Steve in shock. “What?”

“That was when I decided it would be my Christmas gift to you,” Steve murmured, nuzzling Eddie neck.

“But we didn’t get together until Christmas!” Eddie said.

Mrs. Harrington looked away.

Steve scoffed. “Which you probably also knew, considering how close you are to Dr. Martin Brenner, the head of the board. Because I called him on Boxing Day to let him know the change in plans regarding the speeches tonight.”

She turned to scowl at him.

“And I’m betting that’s when you decided you wanted to crash the party,” Steve continued. “You couldn’t let me enjoy tonight with all my low brow friends and my boyfriend.”

“It’s demeaning!” she hissed. “Your father would be very displeased if you saw you now.”

Steve laughed again. “That’s what you said when I bought out the stockholders. And again when I changed the way the company did business. And again when I hired Robin. And again when I had the Hendersons move in with me when they lost their house to a fire. And again when when I came out as bisexual last year. I’m glad he would be displeased with me, because that means I’m doing something right.”

Mrs. Harrington gasped, bringing her hand to her chest. “We didn’t raise you this way! To wallow in the depths of sin!”

“No, you didn’t and thank God that Steve didn’t listen to a god damn thing,” Eddie said, tightening his grip on Steve’s waist. “Because this is the best, most beautiful, bright, wonderful human being I’ve ever met and I’m happy I get to call him mine.”

“He’ll tire of you, you know,” she smirked. “Just like his father. Always hopping from one bed to the next. He was always like that. Even as a child, never being able to focus on one thing for long. The way he would just prattle on.”

Eddie could feel the blood boil up under his skin. He was sure that it was just his parents that made Steve feel like he was too much, but home should be safe.

“Sounds more to me like bad parenting,” he said nonchalant, “then it being a problem with Steve.” He kissed Steve’s cheek. “Come on, babe. Jeff and the boys wanted to meet you.”

And then they left her standing there sputtering and stomping her foot.

They went in search of Eddie’s friends, who were thankfully all grouped together.

“Finally we get meet the man, the legend,” the short, fluffy haired one that reminded Steve of Dustin.

“Steve, these the remaining members of the Hellfire Club,” Eddie said, steadfastly ignoring the comment. “Jeff Lawrence, his girlfriend, Miranda Steiner, Gareth Hughes and his twin Gethin, and Brian Martin. Gethin and Miranda aren’t participating members, but are important nonetheless.”

Steve waved. “Nice to meet you all.”

Miranda looked around. “When Eddie told us that you had organized all this for him, I didn’t believe it. But it’s so amazing for people to come see this, see his work.”

Eddie’s phone went off. Then again. And again. He pulled it out to look at it.

“Holy shit!” he cried.

“What’s up, Ed?” Gareth asked, cocking his head to the side.

“I’m getting notifications from my website of people buying prints and posters and mugs...” he whispered.

“Looks like you’re going to have to expand your marketplace, Eds,” Steve murmured before kissing his cheek.

“T-shirts,” Jeff suggested. “I always wanted one of the half-elf fighter.”

“Tumblers!” Gareth said excitedly. “Or those insulated coffee mugs.”

“Dice boxes!” was Miranda’s contribution. “You could even start getting dice made based on your work. Like a purple and green swirling one for the half-orc bard.”

Eddie’s eyes glittered. “And selling that stuff would give me time to work on my own passion projects plus being able to focus on the charity...” He turned to Steve. “And it’s all because of you, Stevie. I can’t thank you enough.”

He pulled Steve closed and kissed fiercely on the lips.

Steve was bright red when they finally pulled apart. “You did all the work, babe, I just forced people to look.”

Eddie kissed him again. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“I might have a couple of ideas,” Steve growled low and seductive.

Eddie gulped and then turned to his friends. “Yup, bye. It’s nice to seeing you all, but I’ve really got to dash!”

He grabbed Steve’s hand and pulled him toward the bathroom. He hit all the stall doors to make sure they were empty and locked the door behind them.

“I almost creamed my pants at your little suggestion,” his voice came out as a low rumble, deep and dark from his chest.

Steve’s eyelids drooped and he looked up at Eddie through his eyelashes. “Did you now? It must have been so painful in those pants, darling. Should I help you out?”

Eddie gulped. He had brought Steve in here for the express purpose of getting off with his boyfriend, but now faced with the actual prospect of seeing Steve on his knees had him shaking.

Steve ran his hands over Eddie’s torso as he slid to the floor. He looked at his watch and grinned. “We’ve got fifteen minutes before the countdown. Let’s see if I can get you off before then.”

Eddie staggered against the door for something to support him because he knew once Steve got his mouth on him, his knees were going to buckle.

Steve slowly unzipped Eddie’s pants and was pleased to see that no there was nothing between him and Eddie’s cock. He slid his hands up and down Eddie’s thighs as he took in the sight.

Eddie was about to tell him to hurry up when Steve licked a slow agonizing stripe up his length. His retort became a moan of pleasure.

“Fuck, Stevie,” he gasped. “You feel so good.”

And then Steve took him completely in his mouth and good wasn’t even close as a descriptor for how amazing it felt.

Steve was licking, sucking, and kissing in turns and all Eddie could do was grab the beautiful man before him and hold on for dear life.

It didn’t take long for Eddie to come down Steve’s throat with a breathy moan.

Steve tucked him away and then Eddie pulled him to his feet to kiss him deeply.

“Jesus fucking Christ, sweetheart,” he muttered against Steve’s lips. “That is the hardest I’ve ever come.”

Steve smirked. “That’s just the appetizer. The main course will be tonight after the exhibition. I just didn’t want you feeling uncomfortable all night because I gave you a raging hard on.”

Eddie chuckled. “My hero.”

Steve checked his watch and nodded. “We’ve got five minutes to wash up and get back out there before the ball drop.”

Eddie leaned his head against the door and let out a shuddering sigh. “I think mine already did.”

Steve laughed.

“Chrissy is going to kill me, by the way,” Eddie said once he had caught his breath enough to stand on his own.

“Oh?” he asked, looking up from where he was washing in hands in the basin.

“Yeah, she told me no sex in the Newfield,” he said, cocking his head to the side with an easy smile. “And that just happened.” He waved between them lazily indicating what they just got up to.

Steve laughed. “Oh boy, is she going to be in for a shock.”

Eddie walked over and wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist. “Yeah, how’s that, babe?”

“It’s a badly kept secret that the board brings their lovers in here all the time to fuck among the art.”

Eddie threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, god. I can’t wait to tell her.”

Steve grinned back at him and they got cleaned up and made it back out to the main area before the countdown.

Mrs. Harrington glared at them when they emerged hand in hand.

The countdown began.

“10.”

“9.”

“8.”

“Happy New Year’s Eds.”

“5.”

“Happy New Year’s, baby.”

“2.”

“1.”

They pressed their lips together as fireworks ignited outside, bursting over top of the Newfield to ring in the new year.

When they broke apart, they looked around for all their friends and family. Dustin and Suzie were making out under Eddie’s painting of the Entwives. Lucas and Max had their heads pressed together as they held hands. Wayne and Claudia were happily chatting away near a statue of some Greek hero. All of the Hellfire club had clustered together and were toasting the New Year. Even Robin and Chrissy had finally sealed the deal, judging from the way Chrissy was laughing into Robin’s neck.

But no, the surprise of the evening was the way El was smiling and hopping up and down joyfully at Will and Mike slow dancing to the music in their heads. Mike’s hand gently pressed against Will’s side while his other hand was clasped in Will’s. Will’s hand kept stroking Mike’s face like if he stopped, Mike would vanish into thin air.

Eddie licked his lips. “Well that’s new.”

Steve laughed. “It most certainly is. But it’s also a long time coming. I think they had to grow up first.”

“Do you–you don’t think they got together because of us, do you?” Eddie asked shyly.

Steve scratched his cheek thoughtfully.

“I mean it might have got their heads of their ass,” he said after a moment. “But that a thought for another time. I’m practically vibrating to get you out of those clothes.”

“You’ve got it, baby,” Eddie murmured, kissing the side of his mouth. “Let’s go say goodbye and then we’ll leave.”

They said their goodbyes and had reached the door when Steve felt someone pull on his arm.

“Just where do you think you’re going, Steven?” Mrs. Harrington hissed. “There is still an hour left and having both the host and artist leave before the end? Scandalous!”

Steve shrugged her off. “I’m an adult, Mom. I have been for nearly a decade. You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do.”

“Maureen!” someone called out.

All three of them turned to see a distinguished older gentleman with a neat beard and shining eyes.

“Oliver!” Mrs. Harrington greeted.

Oliver Jensen was one of the museums biggest donors and on the board with her.

Steve grabbed Eddie’s hand and held it tightly.

“Word tonight has reached me of your homophobic views,” Oliver said with a rich accent that practically oozed grace and dignity. “I was hoping you would refute the rumor.”

Eddie squeezed Steve’s hand. He didn’t know who this man was but he would be stupid not realize that he was on their side.

“It’s a perversion in the sight of God!” Mrs. Harrington hissed. “This man has corrupted my son.”

Oliver tilted his head in confusion. “He came out as bisexual three years ago and only recently met Mr. Munson, how could he have corrupted your son?”

“Have you seen the filth this man puts on his website?!” she snarled.

Oliver blinked at her. “Yes, of course. Talented young man. I’m quite fond of the Drow BDSM scene with the spider web behind them. I was hoping that the original would have been up for auction earlier and was sadly disappointed it wasn’t.”

“Text Stevie your address,” Eddie said. “I’ll have it mailed right over.”

Oliver lit up. “Oh would you? It’s my husband’s favorite piece!”

Mrs. Harrington blanched. But then she turned red. “You Satan’s spawn! You’ll go to hell too!”

Oliver snapped his fingers and Mrs. Harrington was being pulled away, kicking and screaming.

He pulled out his checkbook. “Who do I make this out to?” he asked Eddie. “You or the charity?”

Eddie blinked. “You don’t have to! Think of it as a gift for throwing the old hag out.”

Oliver laughed. “So the charity then.” He wrote out the check and handed it over to Steve because Eddie was too stunned to take it.

“Sir,” Steve said. “This is too much.”

Oliver waved him off. “Nonsense. It’s great to see children being encouraged to participate in things outside the norm.” He patted them both on the cheek and walked away.

Eddie finally startled out of his daze to look over Steve’s shoulder. There in big, bold, black ink was a check made out to Roll for Initiative to the tune of one million dollars.

“Oh shit.”

Steve could only agree. He carefully put it in his wallet so he wouldn’t lose it and then took Eddie’s hand again.

“Here’s to the best year I’ve ever had,” Steve murmured.

“And here’s to the next one that will be even better!” Eddie agreed.

They kissed as the fireworks continued to burst in the night sky behind them.

Later they would go Eddie’s loft and strip each other bare. Then they would make love several times before falling asleep in each other’s arms.

And when Steve woke up the next morning he found Eddie in front of an easel.

He wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s waist. “What’s got you working at seven am on New Year’s day?”

Eddie relaxed against Steve’s broad chest. “A companion piece to your Christmas present.”

Steve nuzzled him right below his ear. “Oh?”

“Nothing about your painting said that it was a D&D yellow dragon,” Eddie murmured. “So after tea, the yellow dragon transforms and...” He shoved hair in front of his face, even though he knew Steve couldn’t see it at that angle.

Steve hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps you show me what the dragon does to ravish his knight.”

“It’s a long way off from being finished.”

Steve took Eddie’s earlobe between his teeth. “I meant in the bedroom, darling.”

Eddie got up so fast that the knocked over the stool in his haste to get them back to the bedroom.

Steve laughed as he followed behind. He thought back to that day when he called and spoke Chrissy on a whim.

He had been so sure she would tell him to get lost. Dismiss him as just another creepy fanboy just trying to get into Eddie’s pants. He left the business card in their mailbox and hoped.

He got way more than he bargained for. All he wanted when he set out on this quest was to get something for the Party that they would cherish forever. What he got was lifelong friends, an amazing boyfriend, and Robin a girlfriend.

Perhaps magic existed after all.

***

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Rigor Mortis (prologue)

College roommate Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 1

summary: Relationships end. People die. You move on, and Miguel does too.  (roommate! Miguel O'Hara x reader, college-ish au). 

warnings: no warnings, just angsty asf

a/n: this is the culmination of lots and lots of planning and me writing non-stop for a good few weeks. the next part will be much longer, and updates will be wednesdays until further notice. thank you for all your support! If you'd like to be tagged, see this post.

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys :D

Join my taglists here <3

wc: 1.1k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

rigor mortis,

You're sitting at a diner, the one on 57th. At almost 11pm, it's… quiet. The gentle bustle of a waitress behind the counter, coffee mugs and sizzling pans. To your side, a little old woman tucked into the booth. Bright red lipstick and bold eyeliner against tan skin, wrists heavy with bangles against the counter. It's animated: feather boa, green leather jacket - and you think you spy the padding of some slippers from underneath the table. She clinks and clanks, and it makes you smile in spite of yourself. Peeling walls, cramped booths. Warm. Steady. Pam's Diner, on the corner, but you've got to use the side entrance, 'cuz the front's been bolted shut since the 50s. Don't ask questions.

"Mags, honey… I just want to… can you get your mom for me?" She's squinting into her phone now, nose pressed to the screen. You can only imagine the view from there; a facetime call with a smudge of eyebrow taking up most of the little box. 

It's odd, but you like to sit near the door. Some pancakes, a milkshake, or a bitter cup of coffee now that you're older: people watching, as you've always called it. Okay, maybe it's more than odd . Maybe even serial killer adjacent - people-watching, like the night stalkers in cheesy slashers. But it's fun, looking for a story in everyone that walks in. 

In your hometown, you had your first date in a booth just like this one. Back pressed against once-bright cushions, tight skirt digging into your back, and at 15 you had sat and waited with wide eyes. Waited, and watched. The woman with a blue hair-tie at the counter: a new mom, definitely. She looks tired, a mystery stain on the cotton of her joggers and deep rims around her eyes. A jitter in her hands, and she's probably got a piece of shit boyfriend on the couch; wringing his hands at looking after the little one, at being a fucking dad, for once, and… oh. The bell of the front entrance rings, and another woman walks in, and catches the eye of Blue Hair Tie. A warm smile, a tight arm around her waist. You watch as she takes up the other's jittery hand in her own. Partner? Fling? You know now; it doesn't matter, not really. Hands still, the shaking slows, and they are loved. 

Your date had been late, of course. But  what had been your first in a line of disappointing men is long forgotten in the haze of adulthood. 

"I know, sweetheart-" the older woman in the booth next to you almost shouts, making you jump. "...those are very pretty shoes… but, could you… Hand the phone over to mom, okay?“

Someone answers with cooing and soft babbling, and then there's raspy laughter from the woman near you. It rings off the tiles: sonorous and full-bodied, wraps around you like a warm hug. It makes you feel a little less lonely, for now. 

As of exactly 9.42pm, you are single. A four year relationship, over in the space of less than 20 minutes. A cup of watery decaf, and it's all over before you can finish it. I'll stay at my sister's, and you move out by the end of the month. No theatrics, not a trace of tears. You had wanted to cry, to kick and scream and beg, but more than anything, you were numb. Crystalline and still with shock, at how clinical it all felt. Sitting in your favourite diner, the humdrum of the city just past the glass; it still felt… lonely. And when he left; placed money on the counter, took his copy of keys off the table, and didn't look back ; it was cold. 

You remember what he had said so many nights ago, God, years back, when he was studying for undergrad, and would crack open anatomy textbooks on the little desk in your dorm. He'd trace the lines of your arm, poke the flesh as you'd giggle and recite his notes into your skin. 

that… tickles! what are y-you… ohh my God-

Stay still! This is.. important… 

… I swear, I'll start screaming if you-

Pallidity, cooling, stiffness-

that's it, I'm screaming… I'm gonna do it-

It's not gonna learn itself, baby. Pallor, algor… 

and rigor, right? 

… 

I listen. Sometimes. 

…rigor, livor mortis and decay. The stages of death. 

I thought you wanted to be a surgeon, baby, not the grim reaper. 

Very funny. It's still important to know about these things, no? 

I guess? But if you're gonna be saving lives…

That's not how it works. I'm not God. I make mistakes, people die. I do everything right-

People die. 

Right. Above all, I'm in the business of people. Whilst they're alive and when they're gone, what they leave behind…

…but that's not really your job, is it? And don't give me all that, it's a vocation crap-

I don't know what to tell you. It is. It's bigger than me. 

…it's long and hard and killing you slowly. 

…

Shit. Jamie, I didn't mean to-

Rigor mortis. Post-mortem 'stiffness' or rigidity, which occurs one to two hours after death.

I'm sorry, I wasn't th- 

The summation of unraveling: a temporary stasis, which could be described as 'frozen' in time or place, often mirroring the cause of death- 

Jesus, I'm not trying to fight- 

..where a body becomes a dead body. Colloquially, referred to as Alius Mortem, or; another death. 

The phrase stuck, acting as a cruel count for the eventual decay of your relationship. Resentment, on both ends, had burned out that flame long before the breakup. Jamie was cruel, in some ways. You were cruel in others. 

"Alice! Just wanted to say hi, cupcake; missed your voice… oh yeah… mhmm… she's just like you, can talk for the trees…" With the rasp of laughter in the booth next to you, it spreads the kind of warmth that stings. 

There's a spark of self awareness at the back of your throat; the bitter taste of realisation. It's not meant to feel like this, is it? The end of almost a half-decade of your life, an era, the culmination of decisions good and bad and gray that have led you up to this moment. There should be… passion. Fighting, maybe. Tears. Instead of a supernova, you find yourself floating in the empty vacuum of space: an acrid taste left in your mouth. 

"Oh God, have you and the girls been eating well? Let me come over tomorrow, drop you off some stuff…I don't trust half the crap in that cupboard of yours-" There is love and light in her voice, despite groans from the tinny speakers of her phone. Your chest is hot; something leaden and heavy that sits in the crook of ribcage. Bittersweet, like rotting fruit in the cradle of a tree trunk. 

Maybe it's the coffee. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be. Over the past few years, a thousand cuts. And now, in the yellow lights of the little diner on the corner of 57th; another death. 

_

_

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