#this just spilled from the crevices of my brain

[mikichko]

⛔ this blog is 18+ !! minors and ageless blogs please dni ⛔ part of: blurb a day series (trying to get these gears moving)

ghost hates the feel of hands on his skin. despises it. it makes him feel dirty, filthy. even the cotton of his shirts feel too thin on some days and he wishes he would've added more layers. just as a precaution.

so when you ask, "may i touch you?" it catches him completely off-guard.

it's been a long time since someone asked if they have his permission to do something to him. simon has long since lost the privilege of choice, since he'd joined the SAS that is. he's long parted with the idea that he is something other than a weapon and a tool for the crown to maintain its power, however fleeting it may be. molded to obey orders and execute them as cleanly as possible. and yet, here you are, offering him a choice, something he hasn't had in years.

it makes his mouth water.

he nods silently, fearing he'll drool onto his mask if he opens his mouth. he watches your fingers work, peeling back the soiled fabric of his shirt as you expose the fresh wound. you're diligent, handling his arm with such care you'd think he was made of porcelain.

you rummage around in your kit, pulling out the alcohol and the gauze, "this'll sting a bit, apologies." you're so sweet for thinking that a mere swipe of alcohol would bring pain to his battle worn skin. too sweet.

jesus christ. he has to look away lest the entirety of his blood flow suddenly redirect itself between his legs. it's insanity that this bit of kindness is enough to drive him to such a state. he's had men hurl knives, grenades, shoot live rounds at him, has felt them thrash at his body with full force. has become so accustomed to violence and yet, your gentle touches make more of an impact than any of those blows ever did.

you are so careful with him. he wants to let you know that your hand, your blessed hands, could never harm him. not the way the rest of the world seeks to.

he wonders what kind of man he'd have become if you had found him earlier. if he had felt your soft hands before he ever felt the hot metal of a bullet graze his skin. what if he had been handled as softly as you handle him now since his birth?

would he still be here? a man turned weapon, in the perpetual cycle of violence? would he have opened his farm?

he doesn't know, probably would never know, but he knows one thing. he would have found you. would have still met your soft touch.

he'd still felt like a proper man, an honorable man, under your hands.

[gghostwriter]

The Language of Flowers

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer prepares a personalized gift for his first date with you Trope: Fluff! Just fluff! w.c: 1.02k a/n: It’s been a while and I’ve been very much under the weather lately but I wanted to finally let this out of my drafts to make way for new ideas! Not proofread. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! masterlist

Spencer could feel his calloused fingers shaking from the weight of making a mistake that would put him back to square one. He had been hunched over his dining table since the ungodly hour of five am—grateful it wasn’t a work day. He wanted to get this right. 

No, he needed to get this right. 

There was a sheen of perspiration that started to cover the crevices of his tightly wound body making him briefly wonder if this was what bomb squad members felt when faced with the choice of cutting between a blue and red wire.But instead of wires, he was cutting papers with such precision that only a Doctor would have during surgery. 

A single bead of sweat made its torturous way down from his temple to his chin, hanging on the precipice as if threatening to leave its’ teardrop mark on the colorful sheets scattered around the table.

He sighed, uncurling his hunched form, as the back of his palm wiped away the built-up sweat, eyes roving the crafted perfection laid in front of him. 

When the concept formed in his expansive brain, he had entered research mode on which specialized papers would be best and, with the help of Garcia’s complied instructions via the web, he had started test run a week before this very special day. 

Everything had to go right—be perfect for his very first date, one of the many, he hoped, with you. 

The grandfather clock tucked between his bookshelves chimed—a quarter past four. He jumped from his musings, hurriedly rushing to change into his carefully selected outfit, all the while muttering a series of affirmations under his breath to ease his nerves. 

He never thought he’d ever get the chance to ask you out. When he first ran into you, literally, you had this magnetic pull to his very being, as if you were his very source of gravity on Earth rather than Earth itself. 

It was unlike anything he experienced before and if Spencer had to describe a best representation of smitten at first sight, it would be that exact moment when he spilled his coffee on you and you, head thrown back, laughing before flashing a sweet, saccharine smile that made him tongue-tied and bumbling. 

That was a few years ago and you’ve been a constant figure in his life ever since—always lovely and radiant and him, always pining for a future he thought could never be.

He spritzed himself with the perfume you’ve gifted, peppermint and cedar wood, before grabbing his personalized gift to commemorate the first date. 

An origami bouquet of purple Morning Glory.

———

“Hi,” you opened the apartment door. There was a hint of breathlessness behind your words—an effect of your ceaselessly pacing while waiting for him to arrive. 

“You look beautiful,” he dazedly whispered, cheeks coloring a shade of bright red. “I—uhm, these are for you—” he conjured the bouquet behind his back.

You gasped, warmth blossoming from your chest. “For me?”

He nodded. “You love flowers but you—” he cleared his throat. “—mentioned you get sad when they wilt so I made you eternal flowers. Is, is that alright?”

The corners of your gloss painted lips lifting up to a smile. The same exact one that got him hooked from the first look.

Your lack of reply did little to ease his trepidation, causing him to ramble. “Uh, they’re these flower called ‘Morning Glory’ and they signify affection and new beginnings. They’re also one of your birth flowers—September and actually in Chinese folklore, they represent ‘a single day for lovers to meet’ not that we’re lovers, yet I mean, at all but yeah—they remind of you.”

“That’s so sweet of you, Spence,” you step away from the entrance to let him in. “Why don’t you come on in, I’ll just place them on a vase.”

He shuffled inside after you, taking in the warmth and life your apartment evoked. The sunlight streaming in through the thin, almost translucent white curtains that light the place with softness. The precariously stacked books, half of the authors he had never heard of, beside your worn out beige sofa and a lively green plant that threatens to grow out of its pottery.

Everything felt homely.

Every piece reflected you.

“Sorry it looks a little bit messy right now,” you rambled on, placing the origami bouquets on top of the living room table—effectively making it into a center piece.

He shook his head and laughed. “No, no. It looks lived in, homely.”

“That’s good to hear. So—” you rocked back and forth on your heels. “Should we get going?” 

“Yeah,” he opened the door and gestured with his arm. “Ladies first.” 

The hallway was filled with giggles and shy glances as you went ahead and locked the apartment behind you. Life felt surreal ever since you uttered the word ‘yes’ to his ramblings on going out on weekend market date. He briefly wondered if he had to clarify his invitation as a ‘date’ between two individuals that would like to broaden their relationship and not as a ‘date’ between two platonic people. But your cheeks turned this candy pink in color before your sweet voice spelled out that it will be a romantic one and, in which case, he vigorously nodded. 

“So,” you started.

“So,” he mimicked.

You laughed before slowly moving your hand towards his. The backs of your palms gently rubbing against each other, creating friction that sent his beating heart into overdrive. You bit your gloss pillowy lips before intertwining your pinky with his. 

“I’m glad you asked me out,” you breathed out. 

He tried to steady his breath, all of his fingers now intertwining with yours. “I’m glad you said yes.”

“As if I could ever say no.” 

And when he let go of your hand to help you get in his vintage faded blue car, he reached out over the console to tangle it back together, finding the solace and comfort that he had hopefully and finally, found his forevermore partner. 

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[esvcort]

nsfw drabble of Rafayel?👉👈

hi anon ^^ thank you so much for sending a request! i'm not really proud of how this turned out but i still hope you like it (⁠；⁠^⁠ω⁠^) i'm so sorry this took a while! i've been grinding non-stop to get some gems since the pulse hunter banner is about to end and i still don't have the cards i've been aiming for (>/////< " ) it's so hard being f2p out here TuT

cw: nsfw, 18+ content, fingering, clit rubbing for like 2 seconds (again), i mention drool once, kinda ooc rafayel (?) i think

my requests are open for the lads men!

"hah! rafayel! hng…" you squirm in his embrace, clutching his arms as he spreads your shaking legs wide with his own, preventing you from closing them altogether. his fingers are relentless with how it plays with your drenched cunt, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit while his middle and ring finger slide in and out of your leaking hole. you feel your head spin from the pleasure and rafayel's hold tightens at the sudden jolt of your body.

"shh, shh, i got you, baby." he coos quietly beside your ear, placing a sloppy kiss on the side of your neck. his fingers plunge deeper into your pussy knuckle deep, constantly hitting that spongey spot that has you squealing and gripping his arm.

"oh fuck, yes! rafayel, there!" it starts to feel so good that you fuck back onto rafayel's fingers, eyes rolled back and tongue lolling out of your mouth as you start spilling some drool.

"feel good, baby?" rafayel's voice comes out somewhat broken, and he can't even explain why. his throat is drying up from the obscene sight in front of him, your divine and heavenly body right at his mercy. it's so fucking hot how you're furiously grinding against his lithe fingers, trying to come.

"yea… yeah… feels so fucking good…" your brain scrambles to even put a coherent sentence together when all it can think of is good, good, good. the words are slurred as it comes out of your sweet mouth, its whispers reaching rafayel's reddened ears.

"so pretty… just for me." his lips trace the line of your shoulder up to the bottom of your ear. greed fills up his heart to the brim with dark selfish desires, wanting to keep you all for himself. he already has you in his arms, but why must he stop there?

he wants to invade all of your thoughts, leaving fragments of himself in every crevice of your mind. wants you to think of him, and only him, so you don't forget. he never wants you to forget him again.

likes and reblogs are much appreciated!!

[pookalicious-hq]

Midnight Love || ch. 3 - white ferrari

Paige Bueckers x Uconnwbb!reader

previous: ch.2 - golden || next: .4 - april || masterlist

a/n: not proofread sorry baes <3

now playing: slow dancing in the dark by joji

She was sat on her bed, the passing clouds cast fleeting shadows over her room, enveloping her in a familiar wave of frustration. Throughout (Y/n)'s life, there had been countless instances where she wished she could freeze time, if only for a moment. In her experience, time never seemed to align in her favour; nothing ever happened at the 'right time,' and she often had to work tirelessly to make things happen. Unfortunately, her life hadn't witnessed any miracles yet, and there seemed to be no signs of any on the horizon to rescue her.

Currently, the clock displayed 5:47 PM.

A river of clothing continued to spill out of (Y/n)’s wardrobe, forming several piles scattered across her floor. Various textures and colours now adorned every crevice of her room. What started as simple 'yes,' 'no,' and 'maybe' piles quickly multiplied into categories like 'yes-if-the-weather-stays-nice' or 'maybe-but-it-would-look-better-if-my-hair-was-up'. Defeated, (Y/n) slumped from her bed to the floor. Choosing an outfit wasn’t a decision to be taken lightly in this context.

5:50 PM

Now would’ve been the perfect moment for her first miracle.

As she stared at the chaotic array of clothing before her, she couldn't help but feel a sense of unease creeping in. It wasn't just the prospect of selecting the right outfit; it was the nagging uncertainty about the evening itself, looming on the horizon like an unanswered question. After all, it wasn't like she was getting dressed up for media day, it was just the rest of the team. She found herself second-guessing the decision to go at all. With a heavy sigh, (Y/n) pushed herself off the floor, resolving to make a decision one way or another. As she stood there amidst the scattered clothes, (Y/n) tried to rack her brain for what had compelled her to agree to this outing in the first place.

***That morning

"And good Lord, right then and there, I wished I could’ve just gotten killed earlier on when I was in that shark tank because my mom appeared, mad as hell, and was ready to slap the shit outta me-”

Absentmindedly, (Y/n) hummed in agreement as her eyes scanned the fully stocked shelves. The aroma of freshly baked bread from the nearby bakery section wafted through the air, making (Y/n)'s stomach growl in protest at its emptiness. For the past four aisles, KK had been recounting her so-called horrifying dream from the night before, all from inside their shopping cart. While the first 30 seconds had been captivating, (Y/n) soon realized that KK was far from done. This dream had been so 'emotionally and mentally impactful' that KK felt compelled to act out her car chase scene, resulting in her abandoning the cart. After the fateful crash, the two found themselves with a worker trailing them from behind, ready to intervene with KK’s boisterous antics if needed.

The restock of the week was greatly needed. With the pantry, kitchen, and fruit bowl left with nothing but dust, both girls’ moods had increasingly deteriorated from the day before. As KK continued to recount her experience, (Y/n) was left with the task of finding what they needed. “Mhmm, sounds traumatic speaking of that. What else do we need?”

KK gave her a look. “Yeah, it was. Thank you for your consideration.”

 “Always for you. But you didn’t answer my question—what else do we need?”

Realizing that KK couldn’t wring out any more sympathy from (Y/n), she shifted her focus from recounting her painful nightmare to recalling the items on the grocery list she conveniently left at home—a detail she kept from the older girl.

“Uh, okay damn. I think like… meat?” 

The cart suddenly jerked to a halt, catching KK off guard. She lurched forward, instinctively steadying herself on the shopping cart. The harsh fluorescent lighting overhead felt too intense for the early morning, casting stark shadows across the aisles. 

KK turned around to face her roommate, ready to berate her for the sudden maneuver. However, the words of distaste dissolved on her tongue as she beheld (Y/n)'s expression. The older girl stood before her, eyes closed, brows furrowed in the middle, teetering between disbelief and strained patience. KK would be grateful to come out of this conversation unscathed.

(Y/n)'s tone was short, “KK.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

With a deep inhale, (Y/n) gripped the shopping cart, her fingers tightening around the metal handle as she suppressed the urge to vent her frustration. Swallowing back all the profanities that came to mind, she managed a strained smile. 

“What type of meat?”

“You know, like, bruschetta… maybe some bacon-”

“Maybe?” (Y/n) raised an eyebrow, her patience waning.

KK chuckled, the sound bouncing off the fluorescent-lit aisles. “Nah, just kidding. We definitely need bacon. And also… Oh shit… Ice?”

(Y/n) blinked, the abrupt shift in conversation catching her off guard. “...Ice? KK, are you good? Because last time I checked, you were the one who brought up meat in the first place.”

In response, KK stood up from her position in the shopping cart, the metal rattling as she shifted her weight. “No look, it’s Ice.”

Following KK’s gaze, she then spotted Ice Brady in the next aisle. The 6’3 forward struggled to fit numerous bags of chips into her shopping basket, her arms stretched to their limits.

With a resigned sigh, (Y/n) began to maneuver the cart containing KK towards Ice's location. The wheels squeaked in protest against the linoleum floor, the rhythmic sound echoing in the bustling store. Despite her being a D1 athlete, she found herself growing weary of playing the role of chauffeur for her friend. Yet, as she glanced at KK’s expectant expression, she knew there was no escaping it.

“Ice Brady," KK sang, her arms outstretched in a theatrical gesture as the cart rolled to a stop. The spectacle drew the attention of nearby shoppers, who paused to witness the unfolding scene, transfixed by the unexpected drama. "Would you care for some assistance today?"

Ice, caught off guard by the flamboyant greeting, turned her attention from the bags of chips to KK's infectious smile. Amusement danced in her eyes as she surveyed the scene before her. With a nod of acknowledgment to (Y/n), who was still navigating the cart into a suitable parking spot, Ice responded, "I mean, if you hopped out of the cart, I could put my stuff in, but I wouldn’t want to trouble your highness."

“Oh!” KK’s hands came together in childish glee, pleased by Ice’s answer, “How considerate of you, but it's alright, I’ve been feeling courteous today.”

“So now you’re feeling ‘courteous’?” (Y/n) deadpanned as she made her way around the shopping cart across from Ice. As KK made her stellar attempt to climb out of the cart gracefully, (Y/n) stood behind her to help lift her out, “I’ve literally been pushing you around all morning, babes.” 

She then made her way over toward ice to give assistance with the various chip bags enough to feed a family for christmas dinner. 

“So,” KK started her smile towards Ice, selectively choosing to ignore her roommate’s comment “what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

“Y’know, working had to feed the kids, and all that. You guys sure eat a lot” 

“Wait,” KK gaped, “This is all for us?”

“Have you checked the group chat?” Ice questioned. In fact, they had not. Though she had been added days prior, (Y/n) had decided to keep her distance from that group chat. The two girls turned to look at each other, proceeded by KK quickly checking her phone.

Soon enough, her eyes ignited from within. “Hell yeah, party time,” she sang.

“K, you’re being dramatic, it’s literally just the team,” Ice laughed.

“Theres a hangout tonight?” (Y/n) questioned, her stomach forming knots at the thought of being in a room with all of the UConn Women’s Basketball team.

“Yup, everyone, including you two, are coming over."

(Y/n) glanced between KK and Ice, her expression shifting to one of mild apprehension. "Do I have a choice?" she asked, her voice laced with a hint of resignation.

Both KK and Ice exchanged a knowing look before simultaneously replying, "Nope."

6:15 pm

During her first official collegiate-level game freshman year, (Y/n) led her team to a resounding victory, later that night earning her the coveted title of 'The People’s Princess' of the NCAA.

Beneath the blaring lights of the stadium, (Y/n) was radiant. It was a moment she had long envisioned, the culmination of years of relentless dedication and unwavering determination. With her eyes gleaming and her words flowing with confidence, she effortlessly captivated the reporter and everyone in attendance. Her presence seemed to cast a spell over the crowd, drawing them in with her infectious smile and undeniable talent.

In the weeks that followed, (Y/n)'s reputation soared to new heights. However, amidst the high, a subtle unease began to gnaw at her. She quickly realized that the pedestal on which she had been placed came with its own set of challenges.

Despite her remarkable achievements on the court, she found herself confined by the weight of expectations. The public's perception of her became increasingly polarized, with praise often overshadowed by harsh criticism. She was both celebrated and scrutinized for her gentle demeanour, her commanding presence, and even her choice of attire.

The constant contrast between adoration and disdain left her feeling unsettled, she was constantly walking on a tightrope between two worlds. Over time, she became acutely aware of the need to separate her on-court persona from her everyday life, a process that had equally drained but benefited her.

Yet, as she immersed herself deeper into the complexities of her newfound fame, (Y/n) couldn't shake the nagging feeling that appearance had become everything.  In a world where perception was predominant, she grappled with the notion that her worth was measured not by her character or accomplishments, but by the image she projected to the world.

All this to say that unfortunately, (Y/n) had been second-guessing tonight’s event over and over again.  Only two individuals had truly seen beyond the facade she meticulously maintained: KK and, in a distant past, Paige.

As (Y/n)'s life flashed before her eyes, her gaze fixed on the door before her, its weathered surface worn by years of use. The soft hum of chatter from beyond the door drifted through the air, mingling with the faint scent of pizza and anticipation that hung in the hallway. Each groove in the wood seemed to whisper secrets, a silent witness to her inner turmoil.

She took a deep breath, her fingers tracing the edges of the doorframe. The cool touch of the wood against her skin sent a shiver down her spine, a tangible reminder of the reality awaiting her on the other side. What would they think of her? Did she look presentable enough? Doubts gnawed at her confidence, threatening to unravel the facade she had carefully constructed.

With a steadying exhale, (Y/n) pushed open the door, crossing the threshold into the unknown. The soft click of the latch echoed in her ears, signaling her descent into the realm of uncertainty.

The scene unfolded before her, intimate and genuine, a tapestry woven with the bonds of teammates. The UConn Women’s Basketball team occupied every corner of Ice’s condo, their laughter mingling with the warmth of the confined space. Despite the inviting atmosphere, (Y/n) couldn’t shake the feeling of being an intruder in this vibrant gathering.

With each step forward, (Y/n) sensed the weight of her decision. The events of this evening would undoubtedly shape her relationship with the team for the rest of the year.

Luckily, no one had noticed her entrance yet. As (Y/n) scanned the room, she searched for KK among the multitude of bodies, most of them towering over her. Despite her efforts, KK remained elusive. Frustration etched her features as uncertainty gnawed at her. She caught her reflection in a nearby mirror, regarding herself with unease.

With a sigh, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. Lost in her inner turmoil, (Y/n) failed to notice the door behind her slowly swinging open.

As the door swung shut, the breeze proceeded to cause a shift among her hair. Shoving away all distractions, (Y/n) straightened her back, took a deep breath and prepared for her next step further into the house.

“You gonna move? Or do you need help, princess?” Paige's voice cut through the air, shattering (Y/n)'s concentration. All prior thoughts dissolved from her mind at those words, her focus instantly shifting to the unexpected encounter with Paige.

Despite the familiarity of seeing Paige's face plastered on banners around UConn, the proximity still rattled her. She had thought she'd grown accustomed to it, but the reality of facing Paige in person was an entirely different experience.

She had an image to maintain, (Y/n) wouldn’t shy away at simple words anymore.

With a subtle steeling of her resolve, she turned to face the taller girl, meeting Paige's gaze head-on. Though she found herself looking up at Paige, she refused to give any ground in their exchange.

The tension between them crackled in the air, each word laden with unspoken history and unresolved emotions. (Y/n)'s jaw tightened, but she refused to let Paige see any hint of vulnerability. She squared her shoulders and held Paige's gaze with unwavering determination.

"No need for assistance, thanks," (Y/n) replied evenly, her voice betraying none of the turmoil swirling inside her. "I can handle myself just fine."

Paige chuckled, taking a step closer to her. "Of course you can, Your Highness," she quipped, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "But it wouldn't hurt to let someone lend a hand every now and then."

(Y/n) bristled at the implication but forced herself to remain composed. "I'll keep that in mind," she replied curtly, stepping aside to let Paige pass.

Paige's lips quirked into a knowing smirk, but she didn't press the issue further. 

While Paige moved past her, (Y/n) couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that lingered in the air. Despite her best efforts to maintain her facade of confidence, there was a vulnerability in her interactions with Paige that she couldn't seem to shake.

As (Y/n) made her way further into the room, she found herself enveloped in a warm atmosphere. Smiles greeted her from every direction, genuine and welcoming, easing the tension that had knotted in her stomach.

“Damn, girl, I was just about to check if you had been kidnapped! What took you so long.” Exclaimed KK as she searched every inch of (Y/n). The younger girl’s gaze soon turned towards Paige suspiciously suddenly recounting the day prior, eyes snapping back and fourth. But then quieter KK added, “Hm, okay, I see, I see…”

A chorus of laughter bubbled up around them at KK’s dramatic statement, the sound infectious and light-hearted. (Y/n) couldn't help but smile in response, the weight of earlier uncertainties melting away in the warmth of their acceptance.

Any lingering tension between them dissipated in the face of the group's genuine warmth, replaced by a sense of belonging and shared purpose.

After making her rounds, (Y/n) went to sit by the couch, where a mini circle had formed as the team watched Azzi and Aubrey in their death match of Mario Cart. The room was filled with the rhythmic clicking of controllers and the occasional whoops and groans as players navigated their virtual karts through the colourful tracks. Azzi and Aubrey were locked in intense concentration, their eyes glued to the screen as they jostled for the lead. The competitive banter between them added to the lively atmosphere, punctuated by bursts of laughter and playful teasing from the rest of the team. (Y/n) leaned back, taking in the scene with a contented smile.

As the night progressed, (Y/n) found herself settling in, enjoying the easy connection of the team. Their genuine willingness to engage with her put her at ease, dispelling any lingering apprehension. After wrapping up a conversation with Ashlyn about her cats back at home, (Y/n) decided to take a brief respite. She excused herself and made her way to the kitchen, feeling a headache creeping in as result of the loud atmosphere. 

The cool touch of the glass along her fingers was well welcomed as (Y/n) took a sip of water. From her position in the kitchen, she had a comforting view of the apartment. As her gaze swept from Azzi and Aubrey fighting about wins and losses, to KK and Aaliyah filming their third tiktok of the night, her eyes landed on Paige. 

Obviously, people change as they grow up. Physically, Paige was taller. Her dark blond roots peaked out like a halo. But, the space between them seemed to grow as well. 

With a sigh, she turned to grab another sip of water. The kitchen, bathed in the soft glow of overhead lights, hummed with activity. The tiled floor gleamed underfoot, a testament to the cleanliness maintained in the shared space.

Unfortunately, right as she turned, she bumped into the one and only Nika Muhl.

“Oh, shit,” (Y/n) jumped, the water in her glass sloshing dangerously close to the brim.

Before she could react, the collision resulted in the water spilling on Nika, the droplets now flowing from Nika’s shirt onto the tiles below. (Y/n)'s heart sank at the sight

“I’m so sorry, let me help you,” she stammered, scrambling for a nearby towel, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Nika waved off (Y/n)'s apology with a chuckle, her easygoing demeanour putting her at ease. "Don’t worry about it, (Y/n). Accidents happen." Nika took the towel she offered and dabbed at her shirt, trying to contain the spill.

(Y/n) winced, feeling guilty. "I didn't mean to, I was just lost in thought."

Nika leaned against the counter, a small smile playing on her lips. "No harm done. Do you want to talk about whatever was on your mind?"

(Y/n) hesitated, not wanting to burden Nika with her concerns. But Nika's warm gaze encouraged her to speak up. "Yeah, I'm just trying to find my place with the team, you know? Sometimes it feels like I'm still the new kid."

Nika nodded in understanding, crossing her arms casually. "I get that. But trust me, (Y/n), you fit right in. Everyone likes you."

(Y/n) felt a warmth spread through her chest at Nika's words, and she couldn't help but blush. "Thanks, Nika. That means a lot."

Nika chuckled, nudging (Y/n) playfully. "Hey, don't mention it. And you know what? Even Paige couldn't stop talking about how excited she was when she found out you were joining."

(Y/n)'s eyes widened in surprise at the mention of Paige. "Really?"

Nika nodded, a knowing smile on her face. "Yep, really. It seems you’re quite the People’s Princess, (Y/n)."

Feeling a mix of emotions, (Y/n) leaned against the counter beside Nika, both of them watching the group outside the kitchen enjoying themselves. The sounds of laughter and chatter filled the air, creating a comforting backdrop to their conversation.

 However, (Y/n)'s attention was soon drawn to the sight of everyone getting up and preparing to leave. "Where is everyone going?" she asked, confusion evident in her voice.

Nika followed her gaze, her expression turning playful. "I guess it’s about that time now.” Nika then stood up to trail the team out of the apartment. “Team tradition."

Now playing: white ferrari by frank ocean

The night enveloped the surroundings in a tranquil embrace, casting a serene aura over the playground. The soft glow of the moon and stars illuminated the path ahead, casting gentle shadows on the playground equipment.

Amidst the laughter of her companions, (Y/n) found herself immersed in the peaceful ambiance of the night. As she followed behind the group, she couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over her. The cool night air brushed against her skin, carrying with it the faint scent of freshly cut grass and distant city lights.

With each step, (Y/n) felt a weight lifting from her shoulders, replaced by a quiet sense of serenity. She took in the sight of her newfound teammates friends ahead, their silhouettes dancing against the night sky, and allowed herself to be relax the moment, grateful for the new joys she would encounter with this team.

As they made their way onto the playground, the flash of red and blue metal bars pierced the air, bringing back memories of a time when playing D1 basketball was just a distant dream.

Following close behind, (Y/n) ended her destination at a swing set that shone silver and gold against the night sky. The chains groaned in response of her weight, their link rattling together, forming a melody long forgotten. As her world slowly swung on an axis, (Y/n) couldn’t help but finally be at ease. 

As (Y/n) allowed herself to sink into the comforting rhythm of the swing, she became aware of a presence nearby. Glancing over her shoulder, she spotted Paige making her way towards the swing set, her silhouette cutting through the darkness like a shadow. Despite the tension that often lingered between them, there was something oddly comforting about Paige's proximity in that moment. With a silent invitation, (Y/n) watched as Paige settled onto the swing beside her, the chains creaking softly in protest under their combined weight.

For a moment, there was only the soft whip of the wind that passed by (Y/n)’s ears, occasionally broken by the rattling chains and the laughter that drifted from the playground. Though things between the two girls were complicated, (Y/n) missed their time together. 

With a sigh, her eyes searched the distant lights above. Her mind filled in the blanks and connected the dots of the stars in the skies. Unbeknownst to (Y/n), Paige had been doing the same since she arrived.

“Ursa Major,” Paige murmured, the name of the constellation unintentionally slipping from her lips.

At the sudden break in the comforting silence, (Y/n) glanced over to her, giving her full attention. 

"Is it still your favorite?" Paige asked, her voice soft with genuine curiosity, her gaze falling to the side to find (Y/n)’s surprised expression within the darkness.

“Yeah,” (Y/n) spoke softly, her mind filled with the countless nights they searched the sky together. An unexplainable wave of yearning and sadness washed over her senses, “it is.”

Paige then turned her attention back to the sky above, all while (Y/n) was still processing the fact that she remembered her favourite constellation.

“You still remember?” (Y/n) asked, the question slipping from her mind out to the world before she could stop herself.

Paige felt her blood rush scarlet. “Yeah, you know… how could I forget?”

Paige’s answer stunned her. She assumed that since they parted ways, Paige would’ve also tried to erase the memories from her mind. For (Y/n), it had been too much to remember.

Paige's response  lingered in the air, the weight of its meaning hanging heavy between them.

Paige hesitated, her gaze searching (Y/n)'s face for any sign of recognition. "Do you ever miss it?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

(Y/n)'s heart skipped a beat at the question, her mind racing as she struggled to find the right words. "Miss what?" she replied, her voice barely audible over the gentle rustle of leaves and the soft glow of the stars.

Paige's gaze softened. "Us," she admitted, her voice tinged with vulnerability.

A whirlwind of emotions swept through (Y/n) at Paige's question. Her chest tightened, and her breath caught in her throat. The weight of their shared history pressed down on her, threatening to overwhelm her fragile composure.

Yet, amid the turmoil of conflicting emotions, a flicker of longing ignited within her.

Everyday.

She wanted to respond.

I’ve never stopped missing us. 

She hadn’t expected such a question from Paige. Though she had been hoping, deep down, she knew that Paige might not have the same space for her in her world. After all, a sun doesn’t need a moon to survive.

Over time, their dynamic had shifted, revealing that (Y/n) relied more on Paige than the other way around. But those words brought into question whether (Y/n) had been wrong about them all along.

Her eyes swept to the side to meet Paige’s expectant gaze, her eyes reflecting the silver moonlight.

“Always.”

Neither Paige nor (Y/n) had been expecting the answer to be spoken. At the revelation, the corners of Paige’s lips curved into the slightest smile. 

As soon as the conversation started, silence drifted between them, The two girls drifted back into their quiet comfort. Only now, they both shared the same information. Possibilities of the upcoming sprung up into (Y/n)’s mind. Things would be different then she expected, but maybe that was a good thing.

(Deleted scene)

“Nah, Paige is occupied at the moment,” KK laughed, her voice carrying over the chatter of the group. With a deft swing from the monkey bars, she landed next to Aaliyah, where her phone was propped up to capture their talents. As they continued their antics, the live chat exploded with questions about (Y/n) after the idea of getting Paige on the stream was quickly shut down.

“Damn,” Aaliyah murmured, her eyes scanning the flood of messages, “y’all really love her, don’t you?”

A chorus of affirmative responses flooded the chat. Meanwhile, Azzi's voice cut through the background noise, calling both Aaliyah and KK over to witness her latest feat on the monkey bars. With a shared grin, the two girls left their spot, drawn by Azzi's infectious energy.

In the darkness of the night, the bottom right corner of the screen was illuminated just enough to make ou two silhouettes together on a swing set. The descovery sparked a flurry of speculation in the chat. Messages scrolled rapidly as viewers attempted to decipher the identities of the mysterious figures. Within moments, messages began pouring out as Paige and (Y/n) were finally identified.

(Y/n) and Paige: Sparks Fly on Live Stream

Fans were treated to an unexpected sight during teammate KK Arnold's recent live stream, as basketball stars (Y/n) (L/n) and Paige Bueckers made a joint appearance. Their presence together immediately set social media abuzz, with fans reigniting dating rumors that have followed the pair for years. Despite both athletes maintaining silence on the matter, the resurgence of speculation has divided fans, with some eagerly shipping the duo while others advocate for their privacy. As (Y/n) and Paige continue to focus on their careers, fans remain captivated by the possibility of a romantic connection between the two athletes.

a/n: yuhh chapter two done! sorry for the wait, it's been a tough week lmao! anyways, im begging you PLEASE LISTEN TO WHITE FERRARI WHILE READING THE NIGHT SCENE ITS SO GOOD

anyways, thanks for all the love and support you guys are the best, loving all the comments <333

also for future chapters, does anyone live in seattle? cuz mc is gonna be from there and i need a highschool that was good at basketball or just one in general. LOVE YALL SO MUCH SEE YOU NEXT TIME

taglist: @kenzie-luvzz , @juphey , @h34rtsformilli , @pinkandlilacroses , @i-bribri-i , @thatonemarvelfan03 , @girlokwhatever , @ihrtthotdads , @kc88888888 , @nfleditsrjustbetteridk , @imsobabygiirl , @vi0lentb3rry , @sejus-wife , @katemlk , @littlelesbianinternujung , @ktaerssoi , @evangelinexo , @c999sh

[vampiretendencies]

request; omg can we get one where it’s like that one trend on tiktok where the girls wearing lipstick n it goes to her bf w kisses on his face😭😭😭 PLEASE I KEEP SEEING IT EVERYWHERE

warnings; fluff, maybe suggestive

pairing; jj x fem!reader

authors note; i’ve seen the tiktoks too my fyp is obx and couples rn :,) love this, thank u for sending this in. after the day i’ve had i enjoyed writing something small and pure. and i accidentally posted your ask when trying to save to drafts i ended up posting it so i hope u still see this <3

lipstick tiktok (example)

“The red lipstick is new, baby.”

JJ’s voice was raspy, having sat in that same criss crossed position for around an hour, on the carpeted floor beside you, whilst you brushed makeup products gently to your skin. Detailed review of the products you typically use, and that deep rouge lipstick was not one of them.

You were sat at your vanity, preparing for a party at the boneyard. It was the last get together for the summer, so you were tedious in being sure that this makeup look was one to remember.

He resembled that of a small child, the way he’s been beaming up in astonishment. Admiring every move you make to enhance the impeccable beauty you already had to start with. And reminiscing at the fact that you were his, truthfully his in every way.

“Mhm,” you breathe, deciphering wether or not you should take the risk of wearing the color or not. Typically sticking to nudes and neutrals, this was something out of your comfort zone.

“You gonna’ wear it?”

“Should I?”

He gives you a ‘you would look perfect wearing a fucking trash bag, did you really just ask me that’ look. His hand grasps your thigh, thumb reassuring you against your flesh, with small circular motions. Replacing his thumb with his chin, you feel the bone dig into the thick skin— this required a better view than the one he had.

“Course’ pretty girl,” he batted his eyelashes with promise. “Now put that shit on, m’waiting.”

At that, you hesitantly take the top off of the black capsule. Twisting it up for more of the substance, revealing an untouched dark bloody shade of deep red— the most powerful shade. Divine femme fatale, if you will.

JJ could’ve sworn he shattered into a thousand bits, bursting at the seams. The way your mouth parted open delicately to apply it, so intimate and sensual.

Being that it was pigmented you merely needed a few strokes. To JJ’s dismay though, he wanted to rewind that moment, bringing it in closely to store in his brain for the long run.

Open at an angle so sacred he could sob from the sheer euphoric look.

“So fuckin’ sexy,” he can’t help the words that spill past his lips. Nearly in a trace, and he swore he felt drool leave his mouth.

“Yeah?”

You snap the cap back on, standing from the stool, sliding it inward, and JJ follows suit. Someone that was melting moments ago is now towering over you.

“Definitely baby.”

Sort of repaying him in a way, you flash a toothy grin at him, lipstick effortlessly lining your plump lips— you lean forward cupping his jaw with your palms. JJ happily obliged, not caring about the stains the redness would leave on his features. He couldn’t have asked for anything more, actually.

Your lips pucker softly, pressing kisses to every inch of skin you could reach on his face. From the small freckles that littered his jawline to the top of his forehead that was fanned by the tufts of his blonde tresses. Everywhere.

His heated cheeks. Kiss.

The button-like tip of his nose. Kiss.

His chin. Kiss.

His longing lips. Kiss.

Your mouth shape reflected on his tanned face, intricate lining of your lips, every crevice. Fragile and slow with each and every kiss.

Catching your breath, both you and JJ peer into the vanity mirror. He pulls you into his side chuckling at the reflection. His pretty face, painted in the marks of your lips. Yours, lipstick smeared with swollen lips.

This was when JJ strongly believed in the saying of ‘ruin her lipstick, not her mascara.’

“Gotta wipe it off now, J.”

You reach for a makeup wipe, not wanting your boyfriend to embarrass himself at the event to come. But he forces you into his chest to peer up at him, causing your eyebrows to knit together.

“Leave it.”

He adored the lingering sensation of your lips to the subtle skin. Wanting every part of him to be a reminder of you.

So that anyone that walks pass him could clear as day see, he desperately belonged to his lover.

“Really J, let me wipe-“

“I said leave it, baby.”

[arcielee]

dōna riña

Summary: You are enraptured by the prince and princess.  Paring: Daemon Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen x Female!Reader Word Count: 2053 Warnings: Kissing, fingering, oral (female receiving). 18+, MINORS DNI. Author’s Note: Thank you to @aspen-carter​ for being my beta reader. Her stories are amazing, so go and enjoy her work! This is one of the poll options and it didn’t win, but I couldn’t help but write this anyway. I was inspired by @sapphire-writes​ (The Au Pair) pieces they have been working on and it literally would not leave my brain alone. Anyway, this is dedicated to @howyouloveyourdragon and @evattude for voting on this in that poll ♥ Italics are High Valyrian.  Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @schniiipsel 

The prince and the princess as newlyweds were insatiable, by all accounts.

The chamberlain of Dragonstone had advised to allow the space their unbound passion ceaselessly demanded, as their fervent dam broke and the outpour spilled into every corner, every crevice of the castle.

Rhaenyra had a shyness at first, with her cheeks pink from the salacious affection from her new husband and her whispered plea to take her to the marital bed, but Daemon would not be abated. The staff learned to recognize the lingering, lustful gaze of the Rogue Prince and would be quick to clear the room.  

While the others scurried away from the fire that bloomed between these two dragons, you could not help but be drawn to their flame, with an awe that radiated from your face whenever you caught sight of their fervor. You dared allow your eyes to dawdle past what was deemed appropriate for your station, just captivated by their beauty and mesmerized by their actions towards one another, the intimacy of their touch and the beauty of their old language that spilled from their lips in soft, honeyed tones. 

On this day, your steps were nimble towards their bedchamber with the clean bedclothes held against your chest. You had been informed that they were bathing, together of course, and it permitted a window of opportunity to tidy their quarters and change the linens. 

Inside the bedchamber, you saw the royal garments strewn across and the sheets bundled, with the musky scent of sweat and sex that was heavy in the air. You walked to draw the curtains aside, allowing the light and sea air to pass through; you then began to sort  the clothes and separate the ones that had been damaged with their removal and required mending and the ones that needed to be washed only. As you stripped the bed and gathered the soft silk, your eyes fluttered with the intoxicating smell of their lovemaking, and its potent smell made a warmth curl within your core. 

Gods, you sighed, setting the soiled linen on the velvet settee and began to place the fresh sheets. Your mind fluttered to another night when you had this same task and you had been late to come; your hands had trembled as you tried to tuck the corners, quickly, when the door had banged open. 

You had muffled a squeak, ducking behind the woven partition wall and peering carefully at the noise. 

It had been, of course, the prince and the princess, once again in an impassioned embrace and their lewd sounds filled the room; the suckling noises on the bare flesh from their ardent undressing. 

Your eyes widened as you watched them, your tongue wet your parted lips and you felt that same warmth, almost as ache to your core. You heard their hushed whispers exchanged between and your fingers began to trail your dress, dared to press over your clothed cunt and it caused the softest moan to spill. 

Everything stopped. 

The prince pulled away from Princess Rhaenyra, shirtless and flushed, with long strides to throw aside the partition and find you. You fell back, stumbling over the velvet stool and pressing yourself against the vanity. 

The fury etched on his brow lifted, aware that you were as white as his long tresses that spilled onto his shoulders. Behind him, you saw the princess move, who was still wearing her corset and shift, peering curiously. “What was she doing, husband?” She asked him in their foreign tongue.

“I believe we have a pervert amongst us,” he replied, a smirk on his lips. “I can smell her cunt from where I stand.”

You did not know what was being exchanged, you were only aware of the dark gaze of the prince in that moment; you fell forward, your knees bruising against the cobblestone. “My prince, my princess, forgive me,” you cried. “I was only changing the sheets and you…you startled me…and I…”

“Stop scaring her,” and the princess pressed from the bed, coming to your side with purposeful steps. “You may leave us,” she said to you, her voice sweet. 

Your eyes strained to focus on her, aware of how her nipples pebbled beneath her chemise; you focused on her blonde lashes, so light they seemed a golden halo around her lavender eyes that keenly watched your reaction. “Thank you, your grace,” you whispered and you were quick to leave. 

The days passed and reprimand never came from the chamberlain. You did not speak a word about the encounter, remaining dutiful to finish your chores assigned and trying to ease the small hitch of panic in your chest as you finished their bed. Your hands fluffed the feather pillows and your fingers traced the sheets, stopping at the edge to gather the old sheets and, before you could stop yourself, took a deep inhale of them.

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

You jumped, the flutter of silk around you as you brought your arms sharp to your sides. You turned towards the voice and saw Prince Daemon Targaryen leaned against the doorframe, a smirk to his lips. 

You curtsy, your head bowed and your eyes bore into the silk spill on the cobblestone, unwilling to make eye contact. “My prince, forgive me,” you stammered for words, “I was only changing the sheets and I will be on my way-” 

“Must you frighten every handmaiden in Dragonstone?”

You had to look up, dared to turn towards the musical tone of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen. Her silver curls were still damp at their ends, the wetness made them seem almost golden, and her skin was flushed pink, she was wearing only a chemise and no corset. Freshly washed, perhaps waiting for another one of the girls to help her dress but you knew they would not come unless summoned, unwillingly to disrupt them. 

“My princess,” you rasped.

“I believe this is the same handmaiden as before,” the prince responded and you saw how she tilted her head towards her husband, the curl of her pink lips to whatever he was saying to her. “I can smell her cunt from where I stand.”

The focus returned to you and you felt the burn in your cheeks from her gaze. “Indeed,” she murmured and began to walk towards you. 

You held your ground, eyes wide and forced yourself to swallow, but your throat was desperately dry. As she came closer, you cast your eyes downward and enjoyed the floral scent that wafted with her queenly presence. She leaned forward, her arms crossed behind her back and catching your eyes with her own lavender ones, with the same sweet or mischievous smile splayed on her face. “My dear girl,” her voice was low and sultry, her lilt clenched at your core. “You seem so very devoted to your queen to-be, is this correct?” 

You nodded your head quickly.

“And you would serve your queen however she requested?” 

“Of course,” you breathed, straightening to look at her. 

She hummed and pressed closer still, the warmth radiated from her and seemed to meld with the passion that churned in your lower abdomen. “Then allow me to kiss you.”

Your eyes widened still, your lips parted with shock and she gently cupped the back of your head, tilting her head and bringing her lips to touch yours. Her lips were soft and your hands trembled before they rested on her hips, your soft moan allowed her tongue to curl against your own with a languid pace to savor your taste. 

She pulled back and peered past you, only then did you remember that Prince Daemon was still present. You looked back at him, your pupils blown and your lips red, and he returned your gaze with a steely one, a fire burning behind his eyes as he moved towards you. 

The princess slipped her hand into your own, pulling you towards the bed you had just made and stopped to cup your cheeks, bringing your lips to hers again. 

You were bolder with your touch, one arm curling around her waist and pulling her closer against you, your other hand grabbed the back of her neck and your fingernails were gentle to scratch her skin. She almost purred in your mouth, her tongue running along your bottom lip before she nipped into it and broke away again.

You saw that the prince was laid across the bed and the princess pressed another quick kiss to your lips. “You may leave now and without any ill will,” she offered you an escape. “Or you may stay and serve your liege.”  

Your hands moved to untie your apron and the cotton fell to the floor; the princess smiled and helped with your laces until you both wore only your chemise, hers was silk and yours was cotton. 

She guided you to lay on the bed, until your back was pressed against Daemon, his bare chest warm on your backside, and you watched as Rhaenyra crawled onto the bed and towards you.

Your heart was aflutter from the soft touch of her hands on your thighs, her gentle nudge to spread your legs and you obliged her. There was a shiver of pleasure as her fingers traced the insides of your legs and you felt a shift behind you, the prince’s large hand grabbing the fabric and rucking it around your hips. 

The princess looked up through her lashes at you, her fingers slipping into your smallclothes and pulling them down; you lifted your hips so she could remove them, her exhale a tickle on your wet cunt. She watched you carefully for a moment and your own breath caught in your throat when she dipped forward, the touch of her tongue bloomed the blood to your cunt. 

You mewled pitiful from the sensation of her hot mouth, how it caused a blossom of pleasure that pulsated from your center and flittered to the ends of your begin, rushing back with each lap of her tongue. 

“She likes it,” the prince spoke, his low baritone reverberating against your back.

She stopped a moment, perhaps to respond but instead you leaned forward, capturing her mouth with your own with the desire to taste yourself on her lips. Her kiss was soft and warm, and her tongue gently flit across your upper life. “Lay back,” she breathed against your mouth and you felt the thick arm of the prince snake around your waist and pulled you back against him.

You gasped as she dipped forward again, her mouth pressing on the top of your slick folds; her quickened motion of her tongue against your pearl made you moan louder, your back arching against the prince. 

He hummed and his hold on your waist relaxed; the princess peered up towards him once more. “Will you help me, husband?”

You felt the warmth of his palm press against your stomach and move to rest above the patch of your pubic curls, his fingers traced your slit and then pressed against your nub. You jumped from his touch and his chin rested on your shoulder, his warm breath tickled your ear. 

Her hands gripped into the softness of your thigh to hold you still and you felt the sinful curl of her finger within you. 

Your cries grow wanton and she added a second finger to the sensual tactician against the sweet spot within you. “Do you like this, sweet girl?” She breathed into your cunt. 

“Y-yes, my princess,” you stammered.

The prince stopped his ministrations and brought his fingers as a sharp slap against your clit. You cried out, a mixture of pleasure and pain. “That is your queen.”

“Yes, my queen,” you corrected yourself, tears brimming the corners of your eyes. “Forgive me, my queen…” 

Your words trailed off as the first wave of pleasure began to crest, the simultaneous actions of both the prince and the princess brought your climax with a fury that drew the breath from your lungs, an anguished cry with your release. Your gaze fell towards the princess, who withdrew her fingers and brought them to her lips; you were enchanted by her perfect pink tongue that curled around her digits. 

She smiled at you, still sweet, still mischievous, and all she said is, “Good girl.”

[euphoricfilter]

always forever

pairing: jungkook x f.reader

genre: angst || hints of fluff || hurt with minimal comfort ? || non-idol au

summary: you're right there

word count: 2.1k

tags/ warnings: it's just kinda angsty, not exactly a happy ending? but not exactly a sad one, very much open for interpretation, grief, alludes to insanity, and slight slight slight yandere themes towards the end

notes: made the end a little less angsty than originally intended because i too like soft endings :D also got the idea while listening to ‘exit music (for a film)’ by radiohead, that’s kinda the vibes for this

navigation for my masterlists

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

It will always be a strange phenomenon, how anger will almost always equal shouting. Such a human response to such an ugly human emotion.

Anger is such a raw feeling, bubbling, burning beneath the skin that you need to let it out, release the pressure that rage had built. So many words you had never thought to even say spilling past your teeth before you even know what’s being said. Never enough time to bite down on the bitter tasting filth thrown at someone else. Not a thought behind such horrible language, tearing your heart up, because surely if they’d hurt your fragile emotions then it was only fair you did the same to them?

It had been an accumulation of things leading up to this moment. Jungkook hadn’t realised his patience was wearing so thin to the point his unbridled anger had been directed at you. A bad morning, cold shower, no one to help him at work and too many people complaining when really their issues were never his faut. It had rained and he had no umbrella, and the bus was running late. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Just too too too too much for his fragile human brain to handle.

“Why won’t you fucking say something?” it comes from his chest, throat scratching, his own voice ringing inside his head at how loud he’d gotten.

A pitiful mix of desperation and wrath mingled, clawing its way up his throat, digging into his mind, slowly pulling him apart until he doesn’t even recognize his own voice as he shouts at you. Doesn’t even recognise the words as his own.

“One thing I asked you to do, and you couldn’t do it?” a rush of air fills his lungs, burning slightly as he swallows down his growing upset.

He wanted you to shout back, tell him how horrible he is. How terrible of a boyfriend he was calling you names, horrible things that he knew you weren’t because you could never do any wrong in his eyes. Picking you apart of the little things you’re scared of.

The days the both of you had sat down, you handing him your heart on a platter for him to cradle to his chest as he’d told you how he’d always be there. Your secrets, your insecurities, all locked away within a small box, trapped in his heart, protected by his ribcage. Thick layer of skin and muscle and other gross bodily things encasing your hurts and worries. So many things he’d kissed away and locked within himself to help you hold the burden of your hurting.

His words are venomous as he tries to rile you up, anything to get you equally as mad as he was. Logic long gone, tucked away in the far crevices of his mind.

Somewhere beyond him, he doesn’t even remember why he was so upset in the first place, words being thrown around, eyes rage filled as he just watches you sit there.

And then he sees it, something almost like pity painted behind your eyes.

“Say something!” he cries, your face blurring over as tears glaze across his vision.

“What do you want me to say?” you ask him, the first thing you’d said to him since he’d gotten home, the first words he’d really let you have. Having exploded the moment he’d seen you lounging in his room.

He opens his mouth, words almost there before he flinches. Loud knock on the door to his bedroom.

He sees you turn towards the door, your eyes flickering back over towards Jungkook when there’s a second of silence, thick as it coats the room. Lost words thrown around seeping out of the walls now that it was quiet, a silent witness to what had just happened.

“Jungkook?” Jimin calls from the hallway, “Jungkook?” he calls again, palm of his hand smacking against the door, rattling the wood; vibrations shaking the walls.

He hadn’t expected his roommate to be home, shame slithering up his spine as he takes one more look at you before trekking over towards the door. It wasn’t often the both of you argued, let alone with people being there to hear what was happening.

He yanks the door open, anger still fizzling somewhere within him, annoyance coating his tone as he comes face to face with his older friend.

“What?” he almost barks, reeling himself in, chest shaking as he takes in a long breath. Edging himself to take a calmer approach.

Jimin peeks into his room, eyebrows furrowing a little.

“Who are you shouting at? It didn’t sound like you were playing any games, are you okay?” Jimin peers over his shoulder, eyes falling on Jungkook’s computer; switched off, plug pulled from the wall.

Jungkook swallows, “Sorry”

Jimin shakes his head, meeting Jungkook’s eyes.

“It’s fine, I was just a little worried…”

Jungkook looks back at you sat on his desk chair. Your eyes meeting his instantly, though you don’t make a move to open your mouth, eyes telling enough of how you were feeling.

“You don’t need to worry hyung… me and y/n just had a disagreement” he tugs a smile onto his face, evidently forced, though he can only hope Jimin doesn’t point it out.

Jimin’s eyebrows furrow a little deeper, forehead creasing.

“Right, baby?” Jungkook pulls the door open a little more so his roommate can see you. He motions for you to answer, eyebrows raising a little as you keep your mouth shut.

“Jungkook?” Jimin says, tone ever so careful.

Jungkook turns, eyebrows creasing at the concern on his friend’s face.

“What…?” he asks, “We’re really okay, right y/n?” he turns back towards you, desperation growing.

You smile over at him, gentle as he stands there. Eyes locked with your own.

“Come on, don’t be quiet now. Tell him we’re okay” he almost laughs, “We’re always okay, just me and you remember? Forever”

Jimin’s eyes flicker between Jungkook and the empty chair.

“Jungkook…” he presses a hand to his shoulder, tugging his friend towards him, “you haven’t forgotten, right?” he asks, catching sight of his friend’s eyes. Eyes wired and feral as he turns towards him.

“Forgotten what?” he asks, glancing back at where you’re sat. Just as pretty as the day he’d met you. Jungkook’s rage simmering out into confusion as he looks between you and Jimin.

It briefly crosses his mind, how awful he had been to shout at you, just pretty you sat like a dream in his room. And what a piece of shit he’d been to even raise his voice at you, a vow he’d made to never do. One he would spend the rest of his life proving to you that this was one little slip up. That he would never have reason to shout at you again.

He thinks it must be desperation, your silence stretching out for too long. He wanted to hear your voice, for you to tell him it was okay. That the both of you were okay. Just like always. Just like it’s supposed to be.

“I’m sorry” he steps towards you, shrugging Jimin’s hand off his shoulder.

“No—” Jimin’s fingers wrap around his arm, “Jungkook no. She’s gone”

Jungkook stops at that, muscles locking up. Cogs of his mind cranking back into action, hazy thoughts clearing for a moment at what he’d just heard.

Ever so slowly he turns towards Jimin, eyes narrowing.

“Pardon?” he seethes.

“Look!” Jimin points to the chair, “It’s empty. She’s not there. No one’s there. You’re imagining things Jungkook, you need help”

“What?” Jungkook turns back to look at you, “She’s literally right there!”

He points to you, frantic, “tell him you’re here. He can see you, you’re literally right here”

He pulls his arm from Jimin’s hold, feet dragging against the carpet, “Come on, baby. You’re right here” he kneels before you, warm fingers slipping through yours. Desperation seeping from every pore as he holds onto you.

Jimin watches, slipping his phone out his pocket to message one of the older roommates, concern shrouding him as he watches Jungkook whisper to nothing. Your name slipping off his tongue like it were the only thing he knew.

“Tell him” Jungkook whispers, pressing his forehead to your knees.

Your fingers slip from between his own, gentle as they brush over his hair. How many times the two of you had been in this position, or the roles swapped as he pampered you with his love.

“Jungkook” you murmur, hand running over his cheek. Your thumb brushes over a tear, swallowing as you call his name again.

He looks up at you through wet lashes, “I’m sorry” he whispers.

“I know you are” you nod, “But I’m gone”

He shakes his head again, hands running up your legs, fingers digging into your skin.

“I can feel you, see?” he laughs, wiping his cheek with the sleeve of his hoodie, “You’re right here, we’re together”

You blink down at him, slow as your arms snake around his neck. You slip off the chair to sit with him on the floor.

He pulls you closer to his body, arms wrapping around you, cradling you like you were the most precious little being, so fragile and small and all his.

“I’m not here anymore” you whisper, “You know that too”

He shakes his head, “No, because if you were dead then I would be too. I can’t live without you”

“Yes, you can” you look up at him, “I’ll always be here” you press a finger over his heart, “Here too” that same finger pushes against his forehead.

You notice Jimin’s absence from the doorway, eyes flickering back to Jungkook who had been looking at you. Scratching the image of your face into his mind. Regret finally settling over him as he catches up with what he had said earlier, a million apologies lined up on his tongue.

“I’m the only one that can see you?” he murmurs, fingers tangling into your hair, “Just me?”

Your tongue runs over your bottom lip, “I suppose”

Jungkook wipes his cheeks, mouth pulling into a wide smile as he pulls your body closer to his, “Then we can really be together forever?”

You press your cheek to his shoulder, nodding. Unsure what else you were supposed to do.

“It seems so” you whisper, eyes closing, knowing it would only take so long for Jimin to get someone. Gentle peace between the both of you only lasting so long before they come and break Jungkook apart.

You wonder what they’ll do. You can only assume he’d fall into hysteria the more they tell him you’re dead. Remind him of what happened, how you lay six feet under, flowers he’d brought you rotting over your grave in that exact moment. Decomposing along with your body.  

Your eyes peek open, catching sight of the last photo you and Jungkook had taken together, pinned beside his bed. A good omen he’d told you, so that on the days you would sleep at your apartment, at least you’d be looking over him. There even if you weren’t.

It was a small beach house the both of you had rented out for the summer. The final photo before you’d taken the long drive home, his fingers interlaced with yours, sweet smelling sea air slowly fading out the longer you drove. With the promise that you’d come again next summer, just the two of you.

“What about the beach?” you pull away from him a little, his eyebrows furrowing in question.

“The beach?”

You nod, “To be together forever” you watch his face, careful of his reaction.

“They’ll take me away from you”

“They?” he asks, “No one’s taking you away”

You glance back at the door, “Your friends… they’ll make sure we’re never together”

Jungkook follows your gaze, silence stretching out between the both of you. Faintly you can hear Jimin on the phone, too far away for you to catch any of what he was saying.

Jungkook turns back towards you, “The beach…”

You nod, gentle smile toying at your lips. Because even in death, there would never be a day you’d want to watch him suffer. Any excuse for him to escape and for you to trail along behind him, truly in his shadow. Nothing more than an bodyless being that only your lover would be able to see.

Your arms wrap around him tighter, pulling him a little closer to you until his face is pressed into your neck.

Jimin can’t see you when he comes back upstairs, can’t see the lack of expression on your face as he worries about his friend. Blissfully unaware of the little seed of hope planted in Jungkook’s mind.

[abiiors]

haunt // bed - epilogue

a note about the banner: the photo in it is only meant to describe the dress, not the race, body type, hair colour, etc of the reader <3

a/n: i genuinely hope this is a suitable ending, i really do.

minors dni!! part 1, part 2, part 3

wc: 1.8k

what now? the first words to echo in your head as soon as matty pulls away. 

your dress is still pooled around your feet, on the floor of the dusty closet. he’s barely undressed, only dishevelled but you’re completely naked and covered in red marks. vulnerable in front of your ex once again. 

none of you know what to say. do you tell him this was a mistake? was it? your chest feels hollow and your body stings now that the overwhelming feelings of desire have worn away. everything feels warped and out of place. 

matty bends down to pick up the dress and holds it in front of you. 

“we should…” he trails off, sounding like he’s speaking from another room. “you should get dressed.”

you look at the dress like it’s a foreign object but take it out of his hands quickly. putting it back on is just as easy as it was to slip out of it. but the zipper at the back… your arms twist at an awkward angle, fingers straining to reach the damned thing. 

“turn around,” matty says, guessing your predicament within seconds. it surprises you that there are no feelings of hesitation, nothing telling you to defy him just to piss him off. 

it’s a long zipper, starting at the base of your spine. and his hands are warm as they ghost over the sensitive skin. he takes his own sweet time, swiping your hair to one side, warm fingers brushing the nape of your neck so tenderly that you almost feel a shiver go down your spine. his breath fans over your ear. 

the sound echoes in the quiet room. after all the moans and grunts and cries, the sound of a zipper should not be deafening. but it lingers in the room far longer than it should, refuses to leave like an unwelcomed guest, making a home for itself in the awkward little crevices. 

all in all, zipping up the dress takes two seconds but you almost find yourself relishing the tenderness of his actions, closing your eyes involuntarily so that your mind focuses only on him, his closeness. 

“now what?” you ask. it slips out really, almost a helpless question. his hand stills in place, the other coming up to your waist. your voice is desperate to your own ears, pathetic and small. your brain screams at you to amend it. “i can’t go out looking like this. everyone will know—”

“i’ll get you your bag,” he interrupts, already moving towards the door “tell me where it is.”

it’s still in the bridal suite and one of the bridesmaids would have the keys. but what happens when matty steps out and you are left here alone? you know the second one of you leaves the room, the spell will be broken. he will step out into the real world and you will be forgotten like a child’s dream. it’s a silly thought, yet it worms its way in and lodges itself firmly in your brain, makes panic surge up all over your body. 

“don’t…” the word spills out of you, a desperate little whisper. you immediately scrunch your eyes shut looking away. anywhere but at him. 

don’t what… you have no idea how that sentence is supposed to end. don’t go? don’t get my bag? 

matty’s hand stills on the doorknob, his shoulders tensing up. this is it, you realise, the big fight, the last one. the last fuck just happened…why not the last fight?

“so now what?” he repeats your question back to you and raises an eyebrow when you shrug. matty laughs drily. “you don’t want me to go but you don’t want me to stay? is that it?”

“why did we do this?” it’s an abrupt question, one that seems to take him back. “why…fuck. matty, you’ve got a girlfriend out—”

“grace is not my girlfriend,” he interrupts sternly. “she’s my date. sometimes we fuck.”

it’s crude, to the point. and instead of jealousy or disgust, it makes a warmth spread in your stomach. 

grace is not my girlfriend.

“you didn’t bring a date,” he points out. 

“i thought…i thought it would be cruel.” the words are bubbling up at the surface, fighting to come out all at once. 

“why?” his hand slips away from the doorknob, his feet seem to move of their own accord. he’s walking towards you, you realise. almost in a daze, like a moth to a flame. “you knew i was bringing one. charli would have told you.”

“she did,” you retort. “turns out i’m not the bitch you thought i was, huh…”

he’s standing in front of you now, back where he was at the beginning of all of this. even in the dimly lit room, his eyes seem bright, full of an emotion you can’t place. or rather, don’t want to place. because you know what it is. you know how he still feels. you think back to that day in his car, the day you told him never to contact you again and threw your lawyer’s information in his face. 

he seems to be thinking along those exact same lines. 

“punch me if it makes you feel better,” he laughs, reaching for your hand again. his grip is softer this time, a caress. his laugh sounds heavy, like there are tears clogging up his throat. and you feel something damp on your face. 

this can’t be happening right now. this was supposed to be a quick fuck. you can’t be giving into old feelings right now. still, you can’t resist lifting your hand up to his face. a small chuckle slips out—his stubble feels exactly how you’d imagined it. he turns his face slightly, lips pressing against your palm. it’s his habit, you remember it. a year’s worth of time hasn’t made it go away. 

“can i still hit you, break your nose, beat you black and blue?” it surprises you that you can joke about it now. even more so when matty laughs along. it makes a tear slip out the corner of his eyes, landing right on your palm. 

he closes his eyes tightly, causing more tears to leak out. 

“there’s so much, matty…so much we’ve both done and said to each other. this won’t make it go away.”

“i know,” he nods.

“it feels like a chasm.”

his chest heaves, trying to stifle the sob, failing at it anyway. this is happening, like it or not, you’re in a dusty closet, crying and confessing your feelings to your ex-husband. this is a mess, all of it. how did you even get here in the first place? 

“even if we start all over again…”

“we’d still end up right here.” he finishes. “maybe in another ten years,” he laughs weakly, “maybe at ross’ wedding.”

matty’s arms come around you, encasing you in them. it’s a hug, a simple and sweet hug, but it makes the dam break. sobs wrack your body, pathetic and childlike; sobs that you stifle in his chest. 

“i used to have dreams you know?” he says, softly rubbing your back, “after the divorce. for months. dreams where you were still my wife. all we did was held hands and sat tangled up on the sofa. nothing more, ever.” he pauses, almost as if he’s letting the memory of those dreams wash over him. all the while, his arms stay around you, letting you cry in them. 

“but i always woke up alone. the first few times, i looked for you all over the house. spent ten minutes searching all over, before remembering…”

you can picture it so clearly—him sleepily trudging down the stairs, calling out your name, softly at first and then with increasing intensity until it finally clicks in his brain while he’s standing in the dark living room, looking at nothing. or maybe when he’s mid-step, at the bottom of the stairs. 

“and what did you do?” you ask “after you remembered.”

he shrugs. “i’d go back to bed and hope that i dreamt of you again.”

it’s a simple answer. you know there’s more he isn’t telling you, more that he doesn’t need to. because you can fill in the blanks on your own and it only makes you sob harder. 

matty buries his face in your hair and you can hear his soft sniffles. “come back…”

two words that are heavy enough to make your heart stop. 

“you said we’d end up here again,” you point out helplessly. 

“i’d do it all over again if it’s with you.”

it’s such a grand romantic notion, a stupid notion. 

“i can’t go through this again, matty. i can’t…i–it would kill me.” 

he grabs your chin, gingerly tilting it until you’re looking into his eyes. they’re red-rimmed, glassy. you see the pain in them, the hope, the love, and everything in between. you see him trying to smile and failing. 

he reaches for your mouth. it’s a soft kiss, full of every unsaid thing between the two of you. a kiss full of longing and begging. you can taste his tears on his lips, and the lingering taste of you still. 

“we can start slow,” he offers and a pleading note enters his voice, “just as friends.” 

a sardonic, hopeless laugh bubbles up in your chest. “i can’t be friends with you, love.” you speak against his mouth, foreheads touching each other’s.

“so what now,” he breathes softly. you’ve asked each other the same question three times and yet there’s no answer to it. 

“now i leave,” you say, “i text charli that i’m not feeling well, and then i go home…”

“or you could stay,” he contradicts, “we could—we could stay here. or—or leave together. we could—”

“and then what?”

“come home to me, just one more time,” matty pleads. “just once. we don’t have to do anything, just…we can just sleep. one night.”

it’s so easy for him to say. fuck, he makes it sound like the most natural thing in the world. the logical next step. go home to him like you’ve done a million times before, and maybe you could do it one more time. what’s one more…

you mull it over. 

just one night. 

what happens when one night turns into one more day, then just one more time, the real last time, and then another one. what happens when you can’t stop the cycle? 

matty smiles. there’s no fallen angel there any more, only a man. someone you once loved, someone you still love. and deep down you know, he’s someone you’ll always love. 

just one night. that’s the offer. 

“one night…” you echo unsurely. 

you feel his smile when he goes in for a second kiss, you feel his quiet, tentative joy. it’s a deep kiss that lingers on your lips for a long time after. even after he breaks away and leaves behind intoxicating sparks. even after he steps away to look at you properly. 

“one last time,” matty says and offers you his hand. 

seriously tho, thank you so much for reading it and sticking around and sending me all your comments, asks, reblogging with so many nice things. it means the world to me <33

[butchdiaz]

ok its 4am on saturday but i was just possessed by a demon who forced a fic idea into the crevices of my brain and made me start writing before i could sleep so in the true spirit of fuck it, here's my fuck it friday ! thank u for the tags <3 @eddiebabygirldiaz @jeeyuns @try-set-me-on-fire

(again, its 4am and this is straight from my notes app. if there are mistakes, well, fork in the kitchen)

it's been three days since maddie and chimney exchanged their life-altering vows under flourescent hospital lights.

bobby and athena's backyard is lit up with fairy lights and lanterns, littered with wildflower-stuffed mason jars and leftover confetti. buck thought the original wedding venue was beautiful, sure, but it's got nothing on this.

maybe that's because, this time, it's just their little family -- buck's parents already flew home with a half-baked excuse -- and there's no pressure to get it right after getting it so, so wrong. athena helped maddie hem her dress where it got ripped down the middle of the train (much to josh's dismay) so it sits just above her ankles. and buck -- begrudgingly helped by chris -- bedazzled chim's boot with the eclectic selection of rhinestones that were available at the dollar store this morning.

chim's a little unsteady on his feet as he sways with maddie on the dew-soaked spring grass, etta james crooning from a speaker somewhere, but if buck could hear his heartbeat, he knows it would be beating sure and steady, in tandem with maddie's. they both have tears in the eyes and eyes for nobody but each other and buck's heart is just about fit to burst.

it's absolutely perfect.

an hour ago, bobby had pulled him into the bathroom to fix buck's tie and tell him that he was proud of him. fifty-six minutes ago, buck had walked maddie through the glass doors onto the patio while jee waddled ahead, flowers petals spilling in clumps from her tiny hands in an attempt to throw them. maddie had forgone the charade and swooped chimney in for a kiss right away, cradling his neck when she dipped him, just a little, a pink blush flooding his cheeks. tommy didn't come in a helicopter this time, but he still swooped in with that impeccable timing to open the car door for buck, like a goddamn high schooler at prom. an hour and a half ago, he held buck's hand as they entered the house and buck tried not to think too much about how sweaty his palms were getting. twenty one minutes ago, he placed a fresh beer in buck's hands before buck had even realized he'd finished his last one. twenty minutes ago, buck had kissed him on the cheek in thanks, easy as anything, and snaked an arm around his waist. and now? now he's dancing with tommy -- beautiful, sweet, charming tommy -- at his sisters wedding, and it's absolutely fucking perfect.

except buck can't even look at his best friend.

again its not friday anymore + i have no idea who's done this so i'm just gonna tag the besties! consider this a share anything u want/seven sentence sunday/i love u tag!

@usereddie @chronicowboy @shitouttabuck @911onabc @ilostyou @goldenbcnes @exhuastedpigeon @canonbibuck @diazly @evankinard @buckttommy

[cozyreadings-ao3]

- I didn’t expect my last Lynnmanda post to get that much attention, so I thought I would share a small, quick, little rough drabble from my upcoming Lynnmanda fic!! :)

(Please, having Saw mutuals would be so fun- :,) Mdni tho plz)

In a moment of impulsive panic, two people had ended up shot at the hands of Amanda. Two hot, loud, ringing pops she could never take back. Miraculously alive, Lynn cried out, clutching her bloody, oozing side, falling down against the hard, cold cement wall. Heavy, labored breaths escaped the agonized woman’s lips as she desperately tried to apply pressure to the freshly opened wound.

Although Jeff — the crazed woman’s other victim — wasn’t as fortunate. The man’s motionless body was just a few feet away, in a pool of his own dark, spreading blood; the liquid seeping into the concrete’s cracks and crevices. The crude crater in his chest sputtered with the gruesome ichor.

 

Panicking with the still smoking gun in trembling hands, Amanda took in shaky, gasping breaths. The girl’s heavy heart painfully pounded against her chest. Scared eyes darted around her, scanning the spattered floor and sprayed wall. Lynn had been impulsively shot by the brunette’s own irrational actions; however, Jeff? He was just an unfortunate casualty, gunned down out of ‘self defense,’ as Amanda had been startled by the man’s sudden, violent entrance. The shot was fired before her brain could even comprehend the gravity of this situation.

 

Turning to her sickly, bedridden mentor, the jumble-headed woman looked back to John. Tears welled in her eyes, the emerald color seeming faded, with her pupils tightly constricted. “I-I panicked…” The beading tears finally spilled over, streaming down the brunette’s cheeks; her black eyeliner following the flow in a dark smudge.

- This was a little take on my own Saw 3 ending, it’s the beginning of a Fix-It fic I’m working on! :) Chapter 1 may take a while before it’s actually uploaded, but I’m excited for when it will finally be up!! ^^ Stay tuned, and thank you for the support!! 💖

[olivyh]

Not a Monster- Floyd Leech

A/N: I'm not sure if it's stated if Jade ever used his UM on his brother, but I did it anyways whoopsies. Also Floyd just has so much depth as a character?? that just?? goes unexplored in game?? so here’s my interpretation of him as he was growing up

TW: Bullying, fights, thoughts of self worth, self harm, family issues, panic attacks, anxiety, mental health issues, slight descriptions of blood, ppl don’t know how to handle floyd so they ignore him :(

Floyd Leech was not a monster.

He was not an animal, or an uncontrollable force of nature.

People would forget that, scurrying away at the sight of him when he was in one of his moods, chaining his heart and body down with lead that made him drag his feet against the soft grass, or would render him completely immobile during practice.

In the back of his mind, he begs for someone, anyone to save him from himself and the poison that constricted his entire being every second he was awake.

It wasn't his fault that he was born like this, it wasn't his fault that he had a hard time controlling emotions that thrashed against his brain like waves during a storm, the sparks of anger like lightning against the calm, dark depths of the sea that his twin held. The crashing of thunder like the uncontrollable waves of sorrow that would hold onto his heart and the overwhelming sense of dread that would overcome him when he was alone in his shared room, his heart constricting and the cavern of his chest feeling as though it were being filled with magma that would spill at any second into the crevices of his lungs and threatened to take him with it if he gave in to it fully; a bitter sirens song that taunted him and danced in the corners of his vision.

Or the solemn dullness that would often follow these outbursts, like a sudden, uneasy calm of the sea. There was no crashing of the waves, there was no current or undertow. Just ultimate stillness in which he couldn't muster the energy to stand straight- or even the energy to stand at all. It was as though he'd lost control of his limbs- whether legs or tail- and would be doomed to lie in bed all day.

The kind of stillness that made his hands itch to do anything but hang limply at his sides, the kind of stillness that allowed his thought to creep back into the spaces of his mind that he so desperately defended against the bitter comments that many so carelessly toss in his direction. The kinds of words stuck like thorns in his heart and often left him to isolate himself in fear of what he would do should he allow this monster raging within him to take control.

Floyd Leech had been this way since he was a child.

He had been called an animal, and he had been called a monster. Even when he was so young he could barely swim in a straight line, even when he would look up at those around him with his wide eyes and meet their annoyed gazes when he once more swam off and broke something or got into something. Even when he was a young elver, no knowledge of the world aside from the love he held for his family- especially the love he held for his twin and the little voice in the back of his mind nagging at him to protect the other elver. 

He could even see the unspoken words in his parent's eyes when they would be summoned to his elementary school for fighting another child, talking back to the teacher, or refusing to do anything at all. How could he?

Nobody would listen when he told them what had really happened. Nobody would ever believe him when he explained why he did what he did, that he was in full control of his actions and they were not just a result of the fog that hung around him since he first hatched.

He was labeled as destructive since he had first hatched, and he would be stuck with that label for the rest of his life.

That day, a larger mer had stolen something from his twin and then berated and beat the small eel when he tried to get it back, teasing him with an evil sneer painted on his face. Seeing Jade's teary face, the way his lip wobbled and his wide eyes went watery as he sniffled and sobbed in the corner of the small classroom, wiping at his face and too scared to tell his brother what had happened.

"Floyd, please-"

Jade knew what he would do. And Jade knew that his brother would get in trouble- or he would get in trouble, having been mistaken for his twin countless times.

"Floyd, they're gonna think I'm you! Stop it!" His twin wailed. “You’re gonna get hurt!”

But Floyd didn't care. Floyd had never seen his brother cry so earnestly in response to something someone did to him, seen the boy curled up so tightly in on himself, shoulders shaking and gills flaring with every pained breath he dared to take.

Where Floyd was often over-reactive, Jade was under-reactive.

They were two sides of the same storm.

Jade was the quiet warning- harsh winds and small rain droplets, the sound of the boats rocking the dock and slamming against the wooden structure, the creaking of the sails and the flags, the whipping of fabrics.

And Floyd, the thunder that shook houses and knocked things off shelves, the lightning that struck and struck and struck until people cowered away, curled in the comfort of their houses and fireplaces, waiting for the storm to be over.

The other mer had taken his warning away, a mistake he would soon come to regret.

The next thing Floyd knew, he was in the principal's office with his parents and the other boy, now bandaged and shaking, sobbing into his mother's arms while she glares daggers at the eel who sits between his parents, not a scratch present aside from the long claw marks that raked down his arm from when the other boy had tried grabbing at him. His brother sat beside him, bandages on his cheek and along his gills from when the larger boy had hit and scratched him.

Fights in the Coral Sea did not mean a simple scuffle. One does not bleed and swim away. Floyd and the other boy's wounds spewed crimson into the classroom in their fight, and the whole school had to go into lockdown due to the threat of sharks and other predators, and all the other parents were called to collect their children after they left wailing from the sight of such violence breaking out.

His teacher turned to him, a pained look across her face as she looked down at the bleeding eel, hands still shaking from the scuffle. She stared down at him with pity, shaking her head softly as she sighed after escorting the smallest boy out of the classroom.

"Why do you have to cause so much trouble all the time?"

He paused, staring down at his still bloody hands as he watched the rest of them leave, the other boy being taken away by the school nurse and a couple of other teachers, who all looked at him in the same way.

"That boy is an animal."

"How could a child do such a thing?"

"He's uncontrollable."

"A monster."

But Floyd was indifferent to those comments. He, in his short lifetime, had grown used to them. The sting they once held had died, and with it, the power those words held.  

His parents were not indifferent. His parents were patient, yes, they would have to be with their son's explosive personality. He remembers their countless apologies, his mother's worried gaze down at him, and his father's angry one. He remembers swimming past their room at night to tell them goodnight, and hearing their hushed whispers about what they should do with him. Even then he remembers the way his heart sank and his eyes welled up with tears when his parents talked about putting him in a separate school, with children who were "like him"; when his father spoke out to his weeping mother about how their son was abnormal.

Even worse was his mother's reply.

"Why can't he be more like Jade?"

He swam back to his room sobbing that night, burying himself in his clamshell bed and hiding beneath every blanket he could find. He considered running away so he wouldn't bring his parents down even further and embarrass the family so that Jade could have a better life without him.

Floyd did not like this new feeling toward his twin. It danced along the thin border between jealousy and malice, anger at how he, being the louder twin, always seemed to get the short end of the stick. It wrapped around his heart and squeezed until he squirmed in discomfort in his bed, weeping softly, quietly so as to not wake his brother who slept on the other side of the room.

"Floyd?" His brother quietly whispered, floating over to the pile of blankets that the other twin was buried under, sniffling.

"Go away," Floyd whines, tail flicking in annoyance as it peeked out from under the blankets. Floyd could feel the slight tug as his twin rested beside him, atop the blankets that he was hidden under.

"Please come out," Jade had taken on the same tone that he always does when Floyd gets into one of his moods- caring, persuasive, and, as Floyd now saw it as, condescending. It was as though he were coaxing his younger brother out rather than his twin. Floyd takes a deep breath as his fins flare out in annoyance, feeling the familiar tendrils of wrath constrict around his heart as he shot up and out of bed, gills pulsing with every shaky breath he took in.

"Just go away!"

"Floyd," Jade's tone held a silent warning within it, and that made the boy even more enraged.

"Shut up!" He snarled. "Just shut up! I don't care!" He began to thrash, trying to escape from his blankets so he could run before he hurt his brother.

"If you didn't care, then why were you crying?" Jade asks matter-of-factly. Floyd narrows his eyes and clenches his fists at his sides.

And he did what he always does- he shut down.

Floyd grits his teeth and swims out the door, wiping away angry tears that spilled from his eyes as he raced as fast as he could out of his family's mansion, swimming until he was out of breath and had to relax against one of the large rock structures that bordered his neighborhood.

He had run away.

He didn't have to bother his family anymore.

The adrenaline of his previous angry outburst had calmed down, his heart now racing with stomach-twisting anxiety the more the boy looked around and thought; along with the grief that came with realizing that he could not go home, that he would never see his brother, or his parents, or his grandmother again.

Floyd rested his head against the rock, curling as tightly in on himself as possible and sobbing when he thinks that it would be better for them this way.

Jade could take over the business, and they don't have to worry about Floyd getting in the way.

And so he sobbed, he sobbed until his lungs hurt and his tail cramped from being curled up for so long. He sobbed until unsuspecting creatures living within that rock crawled on his skin and pinched or rubbed against him, beckoning him into their home.

He spent that night on the rock.

And the next in a shipwreck.

And the next in a cave near the Deep.

Floyd had been declared a missing person for three weeks when he was found, stealing from a market a few towns over. The elderly merwoman who had taken him had arrived with scratches and bite marks along her frail body, battle scars from trying to wrangle this child and take him to the local guards' station.

Nobody knew how he survived that long on his own. Even he didn't know how.

All he knew was that he was tired, scared, and hungry, and he so desperately wanted to crawl into his mother's arms and sob but simultaneously swim out of the station and never return as the uneasiness twisted in his gut and his jaw quivered the longer he sat in the uncomfortable station. They had given him a small room to stay in until his family came, scattered with toys that were for children much younger than he was, and plain walls.

The window was barred off from the outside, and Floyd could only reach his arm out and wave to the people passing by from there quietly.

He was a caged animal.

When his parents came to pick him up, he noticed that his twin was nowhere to be seen. While his mother wept and held him close to her chest, patting down his hair and occasionally pulling back to cup his small, scratched face and look deep into his tired eyes.

He did not cry like he thought he would.

He felt numb, which was worse than anything else he could have experienced. He felt as though he didn't deserve his mother's attention, or his father's light scoldings to cover his worry for his son. Floyd felt as though he didn't deserve to cry.

So he bottled it away and replaced it with indifference.

Floyd didn't speak a single word for the next two years; not when his parents would beg him to say something, anything; not when his twin would shoot him a sad gaze in school or while they were getting ready for bed; not when he was having a nightmare; not when he just needed someone to hold him like the scared and confused child that he was. His mind was like a maze even he couldn't navigate- it was a separate entity to him; an alien in his own skull. He couldn't bring himself to speak, or to smile.

And people were more tolerant of the way he was when he didn't speak.

Nobody called him a monster or compared him to his brother. He was tamed. The beast inside him still thrashed about in its confines, boiling over until he could lock himself in a closet in their mansion and scream into his pillow- chewing the edges and gnawing and scratching at it until it was a pile of string on the ground.

The beast would fight, and Floyd would fight back. His outbursts had died down to the point where his family and teachers became concerned for him- but he could see their underlying relief when he was no longer having weekly meetings in the principal's office.

He believed that if he fought the beast, he would lose as he always had. So he did what he thought would be best- he destroyed the beast's cage; slamming his head into walls, pulling at his scalp; purposefully breaking his claws and tearing his fins; pushing his magic to the limit just to watch the ink of blot float in the water around him as delicate tendrils that wrapped around him and feel the sting of its acidity eating away at his body.

Nobody but his brother had noticed.

And Jade had pleaded for him to stop, to tell him what was wrong, to let him hold him as they did when they were kids and Floyd was having a hard time communicating what he needed.

But Floyd would not.

He tried to run away a few times after that- much faster now that he'd reached his early teens. Sometimes he'd succeeded, other times he gave up a mile down the road and would swim back in defeat. His family stopped looking for him, knowing he would come back eventually. Jade always knew where to find him, and would sometimes stay with him for a few nights until they would both swim home together.

He disappeared for another month and a half the summer before their second year of middle school. He considered never returning to his home. Of course, he ended up getting bored and coming back home, only to be met with the same annoyed stares and forlorn silence he was used to.

"Floyd?" His brother peeks into the room, carrying a stack of books in his still scrawny webbed arms. "Did you have fun?"

The other twin offers a noncommital hum before he sits on the edge of his clamshell bed, laying back against the inside and staring at the ceiling. The urge to do more and utter boredom claws at his heart until it's nearly unbearable and he finds himself clawing at his chest, leaving long, angry red scratches that seep into the water around him. He feels another cold hand rest against his own, and he resists the urge to look up at his brother.

"Enough of that," Jade mumbles quietly. Floyd scowls.

"Fuck off."

"Tell me what's wrong... please," Jade sits beside him, and Floyd fights against the anger that swells in his heart. "You've been like this since that day... it's been years so, please," Jade's mismatched eyes meet his twin's, and Floyd scoffs, pushing down the surge of sadness that builds within his chest and the lump that forms in his throat "Talk to me.". After a few more moments of silence, their eyes meet and Floyd gasps, feeling the familiar surge of Jade's unique magic flow through his veins- hotter than the openings of the underwater vents and just as relaxing as the soft swell of a wave. Floyd's mind goes blank.

"I hate myself," The words spilled from his lips and, with them, the tears that welled in his eyes. It had finally happened- his heart was on display after being so carefully hidden away. The beast had finally seen the light.

"How so?"

"Everyone wants me to be you. Nobody wants me to be me," He takes a breath, gills flaring as the magic weakens, but Floyd can still feel the words tumbling from his mouth, getting caught on his shaky breaths as he curls in on himself, hugging his tail close to his chest. "I'm a monster."

"And I'm less so?"

Floyd lets out an annoyed huff, tucking his chin down so it touches his chest as he bites down the growl that crawls up his throat. "You don't get it! Mama and Papa wish they never had me! If you went missing, everyone would look for you! They don't care about me!"

"Floyd..."

"Shut up! Shut up!" Floyd sobs, grabbing the sides of his head and wailing into his bed. "I don't want to be like this anymore! I just wanna be normal!"

"Floyd please!"

"No! No!" The other twin can only wail, claws digging into his scalp as he sobs hopelessly, screams shaking his entire body as his gills flare open, trying to capture every small bubble that would happen to float his way, desperate for oxygen. "Just leave!"

His jaw trembles as he continues to sob, squirming away from his brother when the young boy holds out his hand, placing it on his shoulder. He felt too hot, like his mind was twisting painfully to reach the end goal- even if it didn't even know if there was an end goal. His heart felt too full. His brain felt too full. Floyd wanted to rip them out and tear away at them until they were piles of mush on the ground, and even more until they floated to the surface and he never had to feel this way again.

Floyd's heartbeat raced in his ears as his vision got blurry, his sobs turning into pained gasps as he scratched at his throat, claw catching on a gill and tearing through the flesh painfully as he took a deep breath followed by a scream that tore at his throat as he thrashed. Panic filled his chest as he found himself unable to do anything but wail, vision spinning as his entire body tensed painfully and he writhed on the bed, throat burning painfully as red seeped into the water.

He heard Jade screaming for him, he was sure of it. But his brother sounded so far away from the prison he was trapped in, as though Floyd was slowly sinking into the Deep to be eaten by predators much larger than he. He remembers screaming Jade's name over and over again, slamming his eyes shut as his entire body trembled.

He vaguely felt the soft touches of his mother, her voice lost in the haze before he sobbed into the water, grasping at his throat.

"I can't breathe!" He choked out painfully. "Mama! I can't breathe!" He tries to grasp for her, but he can't seem to have any control over his tense limbs.

He didn't have time to catch his mother's response before his eyes rolled back and he fell unconscious.

Floyd awoke in a hospital bed, entire body sore as he winced from the movements and the scratchiness of the bandages against his throat. He stares at his hands in front of him, trembling as he tries to call out for someone, the words drying out before they can escape past his lips.

"J-Jade?" His voice is raspy, and it drags painfully against his sore throat. He's alone in the hospital, he realizes with a shaky sigh as he looks back down to his lap. Nobody came for him.

He can only make out the quiet chatter outside the door before it's pushed open and his eyes meet Jade's.

For the first time since they were children, Jade smiles and Floyd smiles back.

He'd learned to tame his emotions- much better than he could when he was young, despite knowing all too well that he cannot quell the surges that would come and shift by the hour. He'd patched things with his brother, after years and years of quiet, tear-filled nights as he slowly tried to put his feelings into words. It worked sometimes- and other times he cold only sit in silence as tears streamed down his face and he shook in terror- terror caused by his own mind- as Jade held him gently, tail curled in his own protectively.

The mood swings would never go away, Floyd knew that much. Nobody could take them away, or make them better. Nobody could help him out of his slumps, no matter how desperately they tried. His family learned early on that letting him burn out- as they always had before- was the worst they could do for him.

They finally listened. They sat as Floyd explained, in a flurry of stammers and curses, what he felt. He put the beast on display for them to see, to poke at and to try to tame. It was still within him, after all these years. He despised the fact, but he learned that he could live with it.  And now, five years later, he stares at the ceiling of he and his brother's shared dorm room, listening to the soft snoring of his twin on the other side.

Floyd takes a breath, sitting up in bed and rubbing at his eye with the back of his hand and clumsily walking towards Jade's side of the room, cursing quietly to himself as he trips over the shoes and books strewn about on the floor, barely illuminated by the soft blue light of the tank in their room. He grumbles and pushes Jade over a bit, the other boy taking a deep breath and frowning in his sleep, stirring before he falls silent once more.

Floyd rests on his knee as he climbs into bed, peeling the blanket back and slipping beneath it, wrapping his long limbs around his brother and resting his head on the pillow, watching Jade's face twist as he dreams silently.

Floyd smiles to himself, allowing his eyes to fall closed as he joins his brother in dreamland.

Floyd Leech was not a monster.

He never was.

[djsouled]

“ Someone’s not playing nice. ”

he's panting. he's panting, disheveled, his hair's long since come out of its binding and the blood that dotted and splat the floor surely caught onto the leather of his coat to boot. he resented that, absolutely hated what that craven and brainless and annoying 'villain' ( a poor excuse for one ) had done to him. broken ribs and hoarse voice, cracked collarbone and bruises that will surely blossom like dozens of flowers across the expanse of his skin for days. weeks, by the way how he dialed the volume down on his own voice and groaned with every movement back to stand.

blackstar eyes the scuffed and bloodied footprints of the battle that he'd just won, eyes the dead body of the target he'd been sent in to kill with a wild-eyed sneer. he was here to spill blood, to create a vacuum, to create a space and foothold within this country one city at a time. he'd been successful. why did this feel so awful? pain was a welcome accompaniment, an encouragement alongside the adrenaline and intoxication of battle.

hm.

he'd called black a nuisance. a burden to the revenants.

yes, which ended up in him shattering every single bone in the snake's body. he had an outline so beautiful in the concrete wall, the cracks and destruction that black's voice had caused like something straight out of a hokusai painting.

and almost like the universe has a dramatic and ironic sense of humor, his ears are graced with the familiar voice of revan themself. here, right as black had been in the highest and lowest points in this ecstasy of a post intense-battle fury - this high that brought weight to every breath and removed all sense of humanity and reason from himself. the high that threatened to become unraveled by the feelings and memories that a few petty names becoming verbal knives brought up.

blond's grateful for his back being turned or else he'd have to deal with the shame of the wince of pain that marred his face. marred it alongside bloodied cheek and busted topmost lip and he doesn't even want to entertain the idea of looking at himself right now. not at the disarray of his most vital feature ( save for his voice, of course ).

still, the fury wears away as the sickening metallic stench fills nostils in a deep, purposeful inhale. black straightens himself out as it feels like every single joint and bone in his body cracks with the movement, and turns to face his mentor. his leader. ragged and uneven breaths slowly giving way to the exhilaration that threatened to elate him past normal levels, there was a certain exhaustion - yet giddiness - that took root inside of his psyche. things that only truly shone after a successful kill, a battle that had been a test through and through. it was hard-fought, one that had earned him a few more scars to the canvas and wondrous pain to relish in for the next few weeks. it was one more head that he wouldn't have to worry about in giving the all-clear to the revenants. one more head that revan didn't have to take into account.

though his face may be blank and void of expression, the fire that raged in red eyes were indicative of the inferno that whipped and lashed and licked at every single crevice in his brain and body. they seemed to hardly stay still, he had to take in every single detail of revan in all the dim lighting of this poor basement. lips part and black had to consciously remind himself to disable the usage of his quirk right before sound left his throat.

" he got messy. ruined my outfit and tried to fuck with me - i think he died too easily. " rips his gaze from them to find the shattered mask he adorned and something in him gets that much closer to cracking. breaking. " look at this shit. " voice rumbles and pours from his lips like pyroclastic flow off of a steep cliff ; the walls vibrate to the dangerous pitch he near-growled in.

" he called me a burden. me! " and the shout echoes off of the four suffocating cement walls again, stronger - instantly does pure and genuine fear override every single overactive neuron in his brain as he whips back around to run to his leader. it had been loud. he'd miscalculated, forgot that they had been underground of all places. forgot the level of close-range this space locked them in, forgot to let his now absent self-preservation be overridden by awareness -

" fuck, i'm sorry, i'm so sorry - "

half gloved hands float uselessly around revan's head as they waved him off. all he could do was flex hands into fists and out, hanging uselessly in the empty air. wild eyes search frantically around the space of their ears, even with a limited view - licks off the blood on his lip uselessly.

blood? no blood. no blood.

maybe he was the one getting messy.

@iconaclysm. / cayde starters.

[ssuperficialspacecadett]

The Calm Before the Storm

Chapter Fifteen of The One Condition Series | Chapter Sixteen

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5.4k

Summary: Pretty Thing and Din spend some time together on The Crest as they head to Daiyu

Notes: I'm back from my little break !! Sorry this was posted way later than I usually do ): This is finals week for me at my university and its safe to say I'm getting my ass beat. Anywayyyy I'm happy to be back and I hope everyone enjoys this chapter (: Feel free to comment !! Happy reading <3

Gar ganar haar haal, baar, bal runi akay haar oyu’baat hettir dayn: [gahr] [GAN-ar] [har] [hahl] [BAR-oor] [bahl] [roo-NEE] [ah-KAY] [har] [oy-YOO-baht] [HAYt-eer] [dain]

Mesh'la: [MAYSH`lah]

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

You almost missed it. A small puff of air causes your hair to flutter. You stop crying and hold your breath. You could have imagined it. It could have just been the wind, but you wait for it again. You feel tiny strands of your hair dance around as another puff of air, accompanied by a heaving chest, makes itself known. 

“I’m stronger than I look, Sweetheart.”

“D-dad?”

“That’s what I’m t-told.”

Even at a time like this your father finds a way to crack a joke. He does his best to smile at you even though you are sure he is in indescribable pain. 

“I’m so sorry, baby.” You can see tears spilling from his eyes. “I should have done more to prevent this from happening. I just never thought-”

“This wasn’t something anyone could have predicted he would do.”

He closes his eyes and slowly nods his head; words getting progressively harder to articulate due to his loss of blood.

“T-the money. I hid it.”

“You what?”

“Under that tree that you two used to climb? It’s all there.”

You don’t know what to say. All you can do is stare blankly at him.

“Take it, baby…please…get far away from here.”

The clouds gathering in the night sky above the two of you finally break open. Rain begins to pour down all around. You place your forehead against your fathers and feel his last breath roll across your damp skin. You aren’t sure if it's the rain or your tears wetting your face at this point. You hold him close as you finally hear the inevitable blaster shot ring out from inside your house. You thank The Maker that your father isn’t alive to hear his wife's death be audibly confirmed. The front door slams open and shut again and you know you are the only living being in the house. Alden has fled the scene of his own horrific crime; his empty hands dripping with blood. 

When the rain threatens to drown you, you find the strength to push yourself to your feet. Your stomach still burns from where Alden rammed his foot into you. Enough logic remains in your body to know that your wound isn’t fatal, but you need to stop the bleeding. The rain makes your shirt sleeve harder to rip off, but the old fabric eventually gives to your will. You fashion it around your neck and hope that it has enough pressure to quell the bleeding for now. 

If you hadn’t lived here your whole life, finding the tree your father spoke of in this torrential downpour would have been impossible. You locate it and kneel before its protruding roots. You don’t even realize you have started digging until your fingers make contact with a wooden box. You numbly remove it from the muddy crevice it has been placed in, barely registering how raw your hands have become from clawing at the earth. 

When you open it you almost feel like laughing. Your body and brain are so exhausted from what has just transpired that nothing feels real. Staring back at you is the cause of your parents death, a.k.a. 50,000 credits. This small box is the reason you have no home to go back to, no family left, and no idea what to do next. 

You wake up feeling a bit relieved. The nightmare sequence is over…at least until it starts again. You are currently living in the next chapter of it you reckon. You made the choice to do something about the memories that plague you. You hired a bounty hunter, you traveled through space, you confronted Thuban, and now you are on your way to Alden. This is going to end. It has too. Din had set the nav for Daiyu, the second time now, late last night. You remember laughing as he hurried out of bed to get to the cockpit. He was muttering something about you ‘keeping the bed warm’ and him not needing another thruster blown out ‘on account of a simple disagreement’. 

He is sound asleep next to you now. His arms wrap around your body snuggly like ivy to a brick wall. You like being the first one awake. It gives you time to soak in this feeling; to live in the now. It also gives you time to reflect on what he said last night.

“Being with what is mine always makes me feel better.”

He called you his. Then he fucked you like you were his. He said it first with words and then with his body. A shiver of excitement rolls through you. You were his. His girl. His Cyar’ika. His sweet thing. You lift the arm that's around your waist up to your lips.

“Mine.”

You whisper and kiss his arm over and over again. Each kiss pressing the word deeper into his skin so it becomes ingrained there. All care for sounding insane and childish has flown out the window into hyperspace. You have never had anyone call you theirs before. You had never mattered that much to anyone in this way before. You were going to take full advantage of the feeling. If that means whispering your truth into his skin in the early hours of the morning, then so be it. 

“Wha’s tha’, pretty thing?” A groggy voice interrupts your personal incantation.

“It’s nothing,” you laugh nervously like a child who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “I was just talking to myself.”

“You’re not getting off that easy.” His arms work in unison to bring you flush with his own body. A chin comes to rest on the top of your head and while you can’t see you know he is smiling. “I’m curious to know what was being said as my arm got kissed so ardently.”

“I was saying … ‘mine’.”

“Mine?”

“Yes.” 

“And what would you be calling yours, Cyar’ika?” His voice sounds so sultry when he asks.

“More like who would I be calling mine.”

“I’m listening.”

“You. I was calling you mine. Is that okay?”

He answers your timid question by placing his hand on your chin and tilting your face up to his. His lips engulf yours quickly. Your two bodies melt together easily as he moves his hand to cup the side of your face; as if he is afraid you will slip away. You can’t help but let a moan slip at his sudden action. You didn’t see it coming, in more ways than one. Your lips are always so pliant for him. They part like a biblical sea for his tongue. Each of you paw and pant as you drink your fill of each other.

“Gar ganar haar haal, baar, bal runi akay haar oyu’baat hettir dayn.” He says after pulling away to let you catch your breath.

“The last part of the sentence I understood, but the first part is new.”

“It roughly translates to ‘you have the breath, body, and soul until the universe burns out’.”

“Breath, body, and soul.” You whisper to yourself.

“Breath, body, and soul,” he repeats. “I want to be yours in every way possible. I never thought I would want to …give myself… to someone like this in my life. I was completely fine with it being just me and the kid. Then you decided to come along and turn everything upside down.”

“I want you in any and every way you will allow me too, Din.” 

“As long as I can have you in the same way, you’ve got a deal.”

“Until the universe burns out.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

In an attempt to keep the child entertained, you had started turning anything that wasn’t tied down to The Crest into a toy. First there was a piece of scrap metal. You figured that placing him in the middle of it and trying to spin him would be fun. You were wrong. He might still have been laughing when you stopped spinning, but you certainly weren’t. His breakfast must have decided that you were going too fast because it came back up to say ‘hi’ to you and to the hull floor. After that you found a small strip of rope. You pretended to make it move in a serpentine pattern. You both laughed as you made the faux creature slither all around his little body. You must have been doing too good of a job at mimicking the movements of a real animal because the kid decided to try to eat it. You spend a good five minutes trying to pry the rope out of his little teeth. Who knew he would have such strong jaws?

You decide to bring him over to your bed to play an invigorating game of peek-a-boo. You sit down with your back against the crate that acts as your headboard and place him in front of you. As you adjust yourself, your tote, that's propped up on your right, slouches against your body. The child coos as you move it back to an upright position. 

“I don’t think I have anything in there that would interest you, little one.”

Unphased by your statement, he reaches out his hands and makes a grabbing motion. You figure that if rummaging through your bag of clothes would keep him occupied, you should let him do it. You grab the tote and place it down in between the two of you. You flick open the clasp and lift the flap. He pushes himself up and waddles over to the wondrous new world you have just revealed to him. While you should be annoyed as he flings your clothes out left and right, you just smile down at him. With all the trouble that he is, and he definitely is, he’s worth it. 

When you spent all that time alone on Eadu, you longed for something interesting to happen. Something that would pull you from the monotony of your self induced isolation. Who knew that The Maker would finally answer your desperate pleading in the form of a tiny, green child. You obviously haven’t had the time to have your own children yet. It wasn’t even something that had entered your mind until you were face to face with those beautiful, big, brown eyes. Trust was something that was important to you when it came to family and there was clearly a lack of that in your life. Things are different now, but having one child is more than enough for you. 

The deeper into the bag he digs, the more sounds of excitement he emits. Your clothes now litter the bed. When he inevitably reaches the bottom of your bag he looks up at you in confusion. 

“I told you there wouldn’t be anything interesting.” You laugh.

He looks into the empty tote again and pulls it forward to lay it down. You watch curiously as he crawls halfway inside. The tote, from your point of view, looks alive. It is wriggling around and the spots where his ears are making the fabric protrude outward. You hear a zipping noise coming from inside and see him crawl his way back out again. Your body goes rigid when you see what he found. A small bag, the same worn leather as your tote, filled with credits. Their deceivingly joyful jingle rings out as he shakes it in his hands. A wave of guilt rolls over you. Something as pure as he is shouldn’t be playing with blood money. 

“Baby, are you sure that is what you want to play with?” 

The money itself isn’t inherently bad, it's what it stands for that is. Blood was shed to find it, and blood being shed will earn it. 

“Maybe we can find something else for you-” 

As you reach for the credits bag he pulls it away from you and shakes his head. He is clearly determined to play with it. While you are less than happy to let him play with this bag versus the first one, you know when to pick your battles. You lean back against the crate, subconsciously trying to get your body as far away from the bag as you can, while he tries to open it. He pulls at it with his claws first and when that fails he tries his teeth. Your sympathy for him overpowers your own complicated feelings and you take it from him. The knot you tied around it is absolutely covered in drool and saliva at this point. It takes you a few seconds, but you finally release the knot. You hand it back to him and return to your previous position. He wiggles his fingers inside to fully open it up and again squeals in excitement at what he finds. He mirrors his previous actions and starts pulling credits out one by one. You know that there are fifty in there, so this should keep him busy for a while.  

Soon your clothes covered bed becomes gilded. Once the last credit had been removed from the bag, the baby just looked around at all the havoc he wreaked. You think he looks quite pleased with himself. He picks up a credit and examines it closely. He tries to put it in his mouth and he even manages to get a laugh out of you with the disgruntled face he makes. 

“Well,” you sigh. “Are you going to help me clean all of this up?”

He just smiles at you and shakes around the credit he has in his hand. You manage to collect all the coins and get them in a haphazard pile in front of the kid. You teach him how to place each one in the bag they belong in before starting on your own task of refolding your clothes. It takes you all of ten minutes to get the clothes folded and sorted back into your tote. Unsurprisingly, the credit that you had placed in the bag to show the child how to do it has somehow found its way out of the bag again. 

“Alright, new plan.”

You remove the now empty bag from in front of him and place it in front of you. 

“You are going to hand me a credit and then I’m going to put it in the bag, okay?”

He nods and hands one over. You gingerly take it from him and begin what you can only assume will be a long cleaning up process. After you take the second credit from him and drop it in the bag, the coins clink together. His ears perk up at the sound and he hurriedly gives you another. Each time you drop a coin in the bag and the sound rings out, his ears twitch. It has got to be the single cutest thing you have ever seen. You try not to make a sound just in case that will cause him to stop. You can feel your heart overflowing with love for this curious little creature. 

The two of you aren’t even half way through when he decides that you aren’t moving fast enough for him. Instead of handing you the next credit, he uses the force to bypass your hand. Right above the bag he makes it fall in. It jangles as it makes contact with the others. You sit back and watch in awe of him. Even after all these months you are still amazed that something so tiny could contain something so powerful. All that power and he decides to use it to make sounds with coins.

He has maybe five more credits left to do when his father comes down the ladder from the cockpit. You look over the crate at him and give him a soft smile as he comes up behind you. The heavy pressure of his hands resting on each of your shoulders feels so relaxing that you almost forget to tell him.

“Din, watch this,” you gesture to the child. “Come on, baby. Do the magic hand thing.”

The kid looks up at the two of you and waves happily.

“Oh come on! You were just doing it to pick up the credits! Remember?” 

You pick up two coins that were previously in the bag and ding them together. The baby only laughs as you make the noise he has grown so fond of over the last half hour. 

“Using my kid for manual labor, huh?”

“Oh shut up. He was just doing it! I swear!”

“Sure.” 

“No, no really! He would use the force to lift the credits up and place them in the bag.”

The child is no help while you attempt to plead your case. He only laughs and claps his hands while you try to convince him to move a coin again. You can feel Din’s hands on your shoulders shake as he silently laughs above you. When it becomes clear that no amount of coaxing will get him to do it, you wave the white flag and scoop up the last few credits. Din has moved around to the entrance of your bed now. He picks up the child as you safely return the bagged credits to your tote. As always, a gloved hand is extended to help you up when you finish your task. 

The three of you make lunch together. It is a bit crowded with so many bodies, but you don’t mind. Not even when your ingredients seem to go missing and the only evidence of their existence are crumbs on the child’s clothes. 

“You know you're going to ruin his appetite if you keep slipping him chunks of meat.” You playfully chide to the man next to you without looking up.

“He can eat a lot more than what we think,” he bumps your shoulder. “Plus I have been meaning to give him an extra portion.”

“Oh? What did he do to deserve that?”

“For being a good judge of character.”

Eventually you manage to get the meal into bowls and disperse them to their owners. You take the baby and get him settled down to eat in your bed. Then you make your way back to the pantry to pick up your bowl. Din hasn’t moved from his spot since you handed him his food. You can feel the conflict inside him. You had felt his eyes trailing your body through the beskar as you walked away with the kid. He wants to eat with the two of you, but can’t due to the creed.

“The kid and I are going to eat in my room. We would both like you to stay down here for lunch with us if you’re comfortable. If you decide you want to, just let me know when you are done. No rush.” 

Before you go you squeeze his hand that isn’t holding his food. You don’t want to pressure him, but you want him to know that you are more than willing to accommodate his needs. As you move to release him, he squeezes your hand back and his helmet moves slightly to the side. 

“Thank you.” He says your name before letting you go back to the child. 

The kid has devoured more than half of his meal by the time you get back. Din was right, he sure can put food away. You dig into yours after getting settled in. Not long after, you hear Din making himself comfortable against the opposite side of the crates. You smile to yourself as you chew. Meal time may be unorthodox for the three of you, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Naturally, the baby finishes eating first. When he realizes that you still have some left, he crawls into your lap. He is looking up at you with such pleading eyes. You almost give in and let him have the last bit of your food. 

“Nice try, but you already had a second helping.”

From behind the crate you can hear an unmodulated laugh. 

“You better be quiet over there,” you warn with mirth. “It’s a struggle to say ‘no’ to these big brown eyes.”

“I guess it’s best that you can’t see mine then.”

And just like that, the mental image you have been secretly working on in your mind is complete. You feel like you just got the wind knocked out of you. One tiny detail has completely thrown you off your axis. Brown. He has brown eyes. You had assumed they were brown, but now that you really knew you feel like you are one of the stars you have seen zipping by the window while traveling at light speed. You don’t know where you are going, but you don’t care. Even without seeing them, you can picture them so clearly in your mind's eye. His thick brows would sit above them just so. You think that his eye shape would slope down at the ends. Maybe from the weight of all of his years or maybe from the weight of his job. They wouldn’t be stern, no, they would be soft and caring. Perhaps even a little bit sad? They would be deep pools of mahogany. Showcasing his independence, his innate caring nature, and his confidence.

“Y-your eyes are brown?”

“Unless they have changed since the last time I looked in the mirror.”

His voice is soft. He doesn’t sound nonchalant as he talks. He just sounds…comfortable. You feel your chest swell with your newfound knowledge. You didn’t think your feelings for him could grow anymore, yet here you are. Falling a little deeper than you thought possible and not even worrying about if the ground under you will provide a soft landing or be unforgiving.

A voice, modulated, cuts through your proverbial swan dive. “I’m all covered up. Send the kid out and I’ll put him down for a nap. Lunch was delicious.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

“You know that I was just messing around earlier, right?”

Strong arms circle your waist from behind and pull you into cool beskar. Your mind immediately goes to his eyes. Was he just kidding? Was it just a joke? 

“About what?”

“The kid using his powers to pick up the credits. I was just messing around. He did stuff like that before you came along too. I’m sure he just got shy.”

You feel yourself relax at his explanation and wrap your arms around his.

“So you just like making me feel crazy, is that it?”

“No, but I like watching you get all worked up.”

“How would you like to see me all worked up in the shower then?”

He pulls a deep breath in through his modulator at your words. You feel a welcoming pulsing between your legs as you let your mind start to wander. 

“Lead the way, pretty thing.”

He watches you undress from outside the fresher. Your body burns as the helmet dips down and up as you remove each article of clothing. Neither of you say a word as they drop to the ground. You can feel your own need radiating off your body as you finally kick off your underwear and move them to the side. The sound of the water running drowns out your shallow breathing. You mindlessly take your band off your neck and move to cover your eyes with it. 

“Stop.”

“What’s wrong?”

“The band. Don’t wear it.”

“Din, it’s just water. It won’t hurt it.”

He lets your statement hang in the air for a minute before he corrects himself.

“I don’t want you to wear it. I don’t give a damn about the water.”

You let it fall from your hands, discarded, just like the rest of your clothes. You turn and slip into the shower before he can change his mind. As the water warms your body up and wets your hair, you hear him removing his armor. Each time a piece of beskar makes contact with the hull floor your body vibrates with anticipation. When you hear the door of the fresher close behind him, your body feels as if it's floating. 

“Just close your eyes for me.”

You had them closed the moment you stepped under the water.

“You really trust me, Din?”

You jump slightly as his hands come up to cup your face. His lips come down to meet yours. Water trickles down in between the two of you as you swallow each other. 

“If I can’t trust you, I can’t trust anyone.”

He moves behind your body so that his back is blocking the water’s spray. You shut your eyes tighter at the movement; determined to keep them glued shut. You feel his hand move your wet hair to your left side and kiss his way down your neck. He lingers only to leave sweet bruises that you know you will see tomorrow. Your head falls back as his tongue greets your skin like a lost lover. Even with the lack of hot water touching you, you have never felt warmer. 

He can’t believe he has you in his arms right now. He is flirting with excommunication. He watches as you extend your neck so he has more room to lick and suck on you. He can feel himself already hardening as your neck starts to look like a field of poppies. He wants to mark you all over. Make sure people know that you are his. He knows you would let him do anything to you; putty in his hands. That power scares him because he doesn’t know if you know that he would let you do anything to him as well. 

He keeps his eyes trained on your face as his hand moves down to your burning center. Your plush lips part slightly as he starts to rub tight circles on you. The meek whimpering sounds that spill out of your mouth threaten to make his knees buckle. This fear is made worse when you start to whisper his name out to him. 

“You sound so pretty when you say my name. Do you want this?” He makes need known to you as he pushes himself up against your ass. 

“Maker, please. I have been waiting for it all day.”

“If you want it, you have to earn it.”

He knows you know that that means. Two of his fingers slide easily into your slick folds. Your left hand comes up to dig your nails into his shoulder. He works the hand he has inside of you faster as you claw at him like an animal. Your body quickly adapts to the rhythm he has set for the two of you. You’re so beautiful, he thinks. Your brows are furrowed in concentration and the way your teeth bite your lower lip does nothing to silence your wanton moans.

“That’s it, Mesh'la. Cum for me.”

Your legs shake underneath him as he holds you steady. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear as you succumb to your climax. He carefully watches your eyes. He can see them darting around manically behind your tightly shut lids. 

“Such a good girl.” He croons. “Now you can have what you want.”

He moves the hand he was keeping you steady with up to your throat. He waits for you to say ‘no’ or ‘stop’, but you just smile as his grip tightens ever so slightly around it. He brings the fingers you soaked up to your lips. 

“Suck.”

Your mouth greedily takes them in. He has to grind into you to relieve the pressure building within himself as your tongue takes care of each finger. You don’t shy away. As you continue cleaning him off, he feels you arch your back and push up against him. When he can’t take it anymore he pops his fingers out of your mouth and uses your saliva to pump himself. He brings himself up to your entrance and chokes on a groan as you slide your way down unprompted. 

“You’re always so fucking tight, pretty thing. So tight around my cock.” 

He keeps his hand on your throat and moves the other back down to your clit. The two of you move together in unison. With each thrust into you he wills himself to hold on. You need to cum a second time. He keeps a steady pace with his hips, but his hand speeds up. 

“Y-you make me feel so good, Din.”

As the air around the two of you gets thick with steam, he feels you come undone for him a second time. The way your breath hitches and your body shakes is the strongest drug in the universe. It’s completely intoxicating to watch you fall apart for him. 

He gives you no time to recover as he keeps pounding into you. Your body is already drained from giving you two orgasms and your legs are wobbly from standing so long. You have never felt better in your life. When he wrapped his hand around your neck you expected to flinch or not feel comfortable, but all you felt was safety. You knew he would never hurt you and the pressure he applied and was still applying is thrilling. More so than you thought. You scratch your nails down from his shoulder to his bicep and feel him stutter inside you. He cums only a few pumps later. You feel what doesn’t stay inside you run down your legs and mingle with the water droplets on your skin.

When the two of you finish he turns your body back to where the water can fully reach you. He lathers you up with his soap and makes sure you’re all clean. Then he washes your hair. He’s gentle and makes sure not to pull on any knots you might have. You know your hair is past the point of completely soaped up, but you let him take as long as he wants. When it’s his turn to be washed clean, you try your best. He helps your blind self find his head and massage the soap into it. You make sure to take just as long as he did. While you scrub he periodically leans down to kiss your lips and your arms. The shudder your body makes when he touches you isn’t lost to him. 

When the water threatens to give each of you hypothermia, he shuts it off and wraps you in a towel. He dries you off completely before using the same one on himself. When he scoops you up you feel the towel securely fastened around his waist. You wish you could see the way his V tapers into the garment. He gently places you down on the edge of the bed while you hear him rummaging around in a drawer. He tells you to lift your arms up and slides one of his thick undershirts over your shivering body. 

“Do you want me to put my band on or…?”

“No.”

You leave it at that and crawl back under the covers. He follows rights after you and to your delight he has dropped the towel somewhere on the floor. He tells you that you should nap while the child does and when you insist that you aren’t tired a yawn breaks free. 

“That’s what I thought.” 

If you could roll your eyes you absolutely would. Maker, it’s so annoying when he’s right. As you huddle close to him you feel early signs of sleep creeping into your brain. You don’t want to let it take you before you can talk with him.

“Din? Do you ever have nightmares?” 

“Where is this coming from?”

“I don’t know. I guess sometimes I feel like I’m the only one who gets haunted by my past while I’m in the present.”

“I figured that’s what you dreamt about.”

“Yeah,” you scoot closer to him in the dark. “I replay what happened that night with Alden and my parents over and over again.”

“I used to get them. A lot actually.”

“What…what were they about?”

“My parents. I can see them so clearly protecting me before they die. They set me in this bunker and when they closed it an explosion went off. A droid opened the hatch and raised its blaster at me, but right before it fired a Mandalorian shot it.”

“Really?”

“The next thing I remember was being helped out and flown away by them.”

“What do you dream about now?”

“You.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

[rrcenic]

okay so rant time. there are so many moments filled with shame as an adhd person. i often lose energy or motivation, especially when cleaning, so i tend to take advantage of the manic bursts i get to clean as much of my room as possible. this leaves clean open areas, but also piles of random trinkets, clothes, boxes, and empty bags in the corners and crevices of my room.

and i mean. of COURSE i haven’t been cleaning enough. on top of the ADHD, ive had a summer with lots of amazing traveling and lots of awful short mental health scares. i’ve been pretty damn tired.

i try so so hard to keep it neat and open but i do fail. a lot. and i rarely get recognition for when i do succeed (we hadn’t changed the sheets on my bed for over a month. my parents usually remind me to change them or do it for me. i assumed they wanted me to do it myself. so i changed them all yesterday and brought them down and all i got was my mom stripping the new blankets off my bed because that’s my aunts blanket that she keeps here and what was i thinking to not just ask for help changing the sheets. i’m 14. i thought the point was that i should be doing it myself.)

my family has like 4 house phones. not super fancy, no screen or anything, but before i got my cell phone, they were what i used to call my cousin or my friends.

two of them were missing. my dad, who had a LOT of control issues (he banned paint from our house for several years because of small spills, he gets angry and aggressive when we put the silverware on the wrong side of the plates, he likes legos and for years wouldn’t let us touch them or play with them because we’d “destroy them”, etc.) and yet has never gone to any therapy (my mother, sister, and i all do, he has the resources to do so, he himself is a doctor and is an advocate for mental health, but he gets triggered and defensive when we ask him to seek any help of his own), came upstairs to shout at my sister and i to find them

now, here’s the thing. i was pretty sure they were in my room, so i started digging through my corners. however, im currently in awful pain from my period cramps, and was quickly distracted by pain and some things i found while cleaning. eventually, i looked through and didn’t see them.

i tell my dad. he says to keep looking. i ask him for help.

he comes upstairs and immediately pushes my bed away from the wall, rips my blankets up, digs through the cracks, and throws wrappers and paper and tissues at me. the floor id just managed to clean yesterday was a mess again. it’s stuffy and overstimulating. he makes me dig through every pile, even after he finds the phones and chides me for missing them.

it’s now a total mess. my floor is covered in random shit and my desk has been swept to the ground. and my dad leaves.

i’ve been spending the last 45 minutes panicking and sorting way too much stuff for my brain to handle.

rooms pretty clean now. it’s kinda nice. but it would have been so much better with help and kindness instead of shame for my inability to keep things clean. i already get so mad at myself for it and it’s so awful when others make it worse.

anyways i’m so sorry for the rant just not feeling great and needed to get it out.

[serendipitous-girl]

tw: descriptive ideas of suicide,kinda body horror, suicidal ideation, dehumanization of myself??? Idk take care of urself

I'm sick in the head and dark in the heart. I am a creature of the foulest of creators, not God's daughter. Perhaps I crawled my way out of hell and was spawned, the mixture of lustful and impure desires. How could I possibly be holy when my mind is anything but? No, my home is hell. my belonging in the darkest depths of tartarus, home to the other cruel monsters.

Spiders crawl under my flesh, burrowing into the thick meat of my muscles. Their venom spreads to my bones, mixing into my blood until I am just the same. Is evil created or is it born? Am I a monster for the way I am or are those around me the monsters for allowing me to exist?

Perhaps the only mercy could be the sweet release of death. Each stone pressing me further and further into the gravel, thoughts of guilt like boulders upon which I am being pressed to death. I'll suffocate if I stay any longer, I'll drown until I can drown no longer.

Should I slit my wrists? Let the ruby red spill from my skin, running between the crevices of the tiles like streams in the river. Should I pop those pills? Swallow and swallow and swallow until my brain is smothered by the fluffy pillow of a drugged mind and my heart is cradled to sleep like a newborn baby.

Shall I lay there, dead, waiting for my family and friends to find me?

So many ways to submit to the Reaper, to show him I am ready for his mercy. Might I worship him rather than worship a god?. Death is forgiving, almost more so than God. He lets me out of my misery when god tells me to fight. How can I be expected to fight when my breath has been kicked out of my lungs, my bruised muscles too tired to move. How could I raise my arm and form a fist to punch when I have not enough energy to lift my head to take a sip of water?

I could lay myself down, close my eyes and rest. Forever slumber, letting my racing heart cease at last. May I finally have a good night's sleep? I have waited for so long.

[dollmother]

i wonder where i am, scanning these black trees

feet sunken into the snow, numbingly free

arranged barcodes sort the tangled metal hairs

give away nothing but vacant stares

while thoughts visit me like tourists, snapshot every scenic view

then they're gone again, the pictures never seemed real

and the worms crawl around my mind,

squirming along each crevice they find,

eating me out from within so i am really empty this time

and the feeling becomes more than just a dream

now i close my absent eyes again to the light, listen to the faint chimes knocking

so drained, i hold my mouth under the faucet dripping life

disregarding the sore behind my neck when it's clicking on my skin

in my tired strife, paralyzed but overflowing, it spills

then my body lies decaying still

corpses lingering inside her brain.