#*HEART BURSTS FROM THE ABUNDANCE OF FEELS*

[abolishfandombs]

MATING DANCE: COMPLETE

REWARD: KISSES

[kitasgloves]

Follow You

tracklist

— ♬ "I'll be your gravity, you'll be my oxygen"

— ♬ Chuuya Nakahara x Reader, SFW, gender-neutral reader, depictions of stalking, violence, and obsessive behavior, abandonment issues, Chuuya being deranged when he's in love, 3.5k words, no beta

— ♬ NOTE: I DO NOT CONDONE NOR ROMANTISIZE WHAT IS DEPICTED IN THIS STORY. EVERYTHING IS A WORK OF FICTION. READER'S DESCRETION IS ADVISED.

There's this hollow feeling that swallows one's whole consciousness like a black hole. It's greedy as it feeds on your light and energy. It leaves you empty, like a void. And to feel that void grow within you as it devours all the remnants of your being, it's a painful tragedy. Nakahara Chuuya felt that void in him widen from time to time. That void was born when he lost those who were close to his heart. By then, he learned how to surround his heart with walls. But there's always something unexpected that would tear those walls down and pierce through his heart.

Chuuya struggled with finding his humanity. As much as his mind reminds him that he is human, his soul isn't convinced. As he grew older and learned how unjust the world is, that void slowly ate away the remainder of his 'humanity'. Chuuya still believed there was an uncontrollable monster in him, a monster that claws at the remnants of his control until it takes over him completely. No matter how many good deeds he performed, it would not erase the feeling. And Chuuya has already accepted long ago that he wasn't a good person, and he's not going to waste his life trying to be one.

What does make one human? Was it your anatomy? Emotions? Consciousness? Or Purpose? The answer seemed to be one of the secrets of the universe. Chuuya doesn't ponder about what the answer will be. He's content where he is now, after all, he's been through a lot. Being an executive in the Port Mafia pays a lot and he can afford the luxury he wants. He has bursts of anger out of nowhere but he's getting the hang of controlling it. He has matured greatly but he knows he has so much to learn.

It was a domino effect when you stepped into Chuuya's life. One look, one smile, and everything came crumbling down. He regretted saving your life at first. You just happened to be an unsuspecting victim caught in a conflict between the Port Mafia and another group. You were caught in the gunfire at a restaurant, and you could've lost your life if it weren't for the gravity manipulator. He shielded you from the bullets and from witnessing the rest of the violence. Chuuya won effortlessly against his enemies while leaving a trail of destruction. But instead of focusing on the bloody disaster the man has left, your eyes glimmered at him.

"Thank you!"

You reached to clasp his hands and smile gratefully at him. Chuuya snarled at you as he snatched his hands back. He scoffed at the idea of you thinking he saved you out of the goodness of his heart. He only did that because you were getting in his way! But somehow, he couldn't look away from your glimmering gaze on him. You were abundant of life and he's sure that you weren't exposed to violence on a daily, unlike him. A tiny part of him wanted to keep it that way, you were just an innocent civilian. He may not be a good man, but he's not a cruel person to inflict his brutality on you.

It began with curiosity. Chuuya looked into your background. You worked at that restaurant, a minimum wage job. You lived alone in a humble apartment. From the looks of it, you were comfortable. Anyone who hasn't suffered so much like him would be content with your lifestyle. You seemed comfortable with your life, something Chuuya was a bit envious of. He can scowl and scoff all he wants but there's nothing he can do about it.

The gravity manipulator squinted his eyes and observed more about you. From what he gathered; you looked average. There was nothing out of place. He found out about the places you frequent, where you went to college and even the hometown you grew up in. He felt invested in finding out about your interests. Dare he says, he's impressed with your taste. It may not show in your appearance, but you had an elegant taste. Whether in music, food, or clothing, Chuuya found himself approving of it. 

He may have intentionally followed you when he wasn't busy and noticed you were shopping for wine. Chuuya can't help but gasp silently at how exquisite your choice of wine was. You were looking at underrated but delectable brands of wine, seemingly conflicted on which to buy. The Mafioso watched you look at one of the price tags and staggered back at how much it cost. He can understand that that brand of wine was way above your budget, but he can feel his chest tighten at your deflated figure walking away without purchasing the bottle of wine.

You noticed a small package delicately wrapped in red ribbon on your front door. You raised a brow and reluctantly brought the package inside. Suspicion filled you since you weren't expecting to receive any packages today. But as you unwrapped the ribbon and saw what was inside, your jaw drops. It was that expensive-ass wine you were eyeing earlier! You couldn't believe your eyes as you inspected the bottle. There was a tiny note attached to it.

Enjoy it while it lasts, sweetheart - C

You admit that the message left you both flushed but more suspicious. You took out one of your wine glasses and did a taste test. Your tastebuds screamed with delight at how delectable the wine was. Whoever that 'C' person was, they're most likely rich. They could have some sort of motive to send you this wine. Nonetheless, you enjoyed your evening with that heavenly bottle.

Chuuya had no idea what had gotten into him when he began anonymously sending you expensive gifts at your doorstep. That expensive wine was a random act of kindness that happens once in a blue moon. The limited-edition vinyl of your favorite artist was out of boredom. That expensive watch was only to see you smile as you wore it at work. That silk robe, that perfume, and that diamond ring were only an impulsive decision. Chuuya was hastily spending his money on you, and you kept accepting them not knowing who it was from. That was a stupid move from you, but you're lucky it was from him and not from somebody else.

You're beginning to fall for the 'C' person behind all the luxurious gifts that they send every week. You felt properly spoiled as you kept accepting more and more. You can't help it, it's not like you could afford all of those with your paycheck. One evening, you waited again for another gift from your mysterious admirer (if you can call them that). But what you weren't expecting was the guy who saved you from the gunfire weeks ago, waiting for you at your front door, with a bouquet of red roses. 

Chuuya gulped as he sweats in his expensive tailored suit, he takes in your bewildered gaze on him. He blushed as red as the bouquet before thrusting it towards you.

"...Were you the one sending me those gifts?"

"Yeah..."

"Oh"

You blinked and stared down at the roses. You looked up at Chuuya and gave him a sweet smile before walking over to him.

"That's so sweet of you, but why?"

"I—I was only curious and...and you had good taste"

"Okay. So, what's your name?"

"Nakahara Chuuya"

"I'm [Surname] [Name], do you want to go inside?"

You asked and Chuuya nodded, almost in a trance. He can't help but feel weak at the knees at how you smile at him. The moment you shut your door the Mafioso couldn't contain himself as he pounced at you, capturing your lips into an intense kiss. That evening ended with his and your clothes scattered all over your bedroom floor.

A relationship bloomed afterward. Chuuya took you out on proper dates and continued to spoil you endlessly. What he thought was only curiosity or boredom became a passion for him. Truthfully, loving Chuuya was difficult from the start. He has a temper and often keeps his guard up, and it took time and effort for you to help him be vulnerable with you. It tugged on your heartstrings to find out that under that tough exterior was someone who was starving for affection.

When Chuuya loved, he loved deeply. When he couldn't express his tenderness to the people who meant a lot to him back then, he did with you. With every waking hour, he'll make sure that you feel loved and that you are aware of it. He'd trace every curve of your body and mark your skin with love bites. He'll give you gifts and smother you with his kisses. Chuuya made it his top priority to make you feel safe and secure. He even convinced you to move into his large house so he could keep an eye on you.

It had something to do with his past, but he couldn't stand the thought of you leaving him. So, the gravity manipulator would follow you around on a daily. To your work, to go out with friends, or even at the grocery store. Chuuya was constantly on your tail without your knowledge. He'd disguise himself in various outfits and behave like a normal civilian to not draw suspicion. He'd smile to himself knowing that you're safe from danger because of him.

However, when you got involved in conflicts, Chuuya would take it upon himself to resolve them. That drunk man who kept flirting with you at the bar? He was found with broken bones in an alleyway. That woman who was rude to you at work? She was arrested for a crime she claimed she didn't commit. And that fucking creep that followed you home one night? He was beaten to death with his face disfigured. The Mafioso made sure everything was taken care of and you're none the wiser.

It became clear to him that you have come to his life to fill that void in him. When you wrap your arms around him and whisper sweet nothings against his ear, it brings his body back to life. It revives that hope in him that he thought he had lost. You have made him feel truly human.

Back then, his head was haunting him, and his heart feels like a ghost. He needs to feel something 'cause he's still so far from home. Chuuya hopes that you'll cross your heart and hope to die, promise him you'll never leave his side. Show him what he can't see when the spark in your eyes is gone. You've got him on your knees, he's your one-man cult. Cross his heart and hope to die, he promises you that he'll never leave your side.

'Cause he's telling you, you're all he needs. He promises you, you're all he sees. He's telling you you're all he needs. He'll never leave. So, you can drag him through hell, if it meant he can hold your hand. He will follow you, 'cause he's under your spell. And you can throw him to the flames. Chuuya will follow you, he will follow you.

Lately, you have been getting this feeling like you were being constantly followed everywhere. You were beginning to feel restless about it. When you expressed this to your boyfriend, he would coo at you and pull you into an embrace as he littered kisses all over your face. It would temporarily soothe you until you get separated from him. You'd carefully travel to work and feel the discomfort grow during your shift at the restaurant. You would try to call Chuuya during your break and he'll reassure you with a few words. You had no idea what Chuuya's occupation was, but you had an assumption that he was constantly busy and paid handsomely.

This discomfort developed into paranoia. You couldn't even tell anybody anymore because you're convinced that you would sound crazy. You had no evidence to link the cause of your paranoia. Your senses are heightened as you begin to notice things that you haven't before. All the people you had bad interactions with either ended up severely injured, arrested, or dead in the news. It sent an uncomfortable shiver down your spine. It seemed like you were the cause of their misfortune.

Chuuya was aware of your growing suspicion as he continued to follow you around. That ugly monster in him kept telling him that you'll abandon him sooner and it disturbs him so much that he starts to follow you even more. There wasn't a moment you weren't alone. He needed to prove that stupid monster wrong and that you wouldn't leave him. There was no way, and he wouldn't allow it. He has you now, and he won't let you leave him like everybody else did. If you did, you'd bring the end of him and the world.

On the way home, you kept a cautious eye out. You looked closely at each person you passed by. You felt like you were growing insane with each minute as you entered a discreet alleyway. All of a sudden, somebody sharply tugged on your bag making you twist your body, and your forehead was met with a gun. You freeze, feeling your body run immediately cold.

"Let go of the bag and I won't shoot, yeah?"

The gruff voice of a man said. Your lip wobbled as you shakily released the bag. But before the man could run off, he was attacked with a kick to the face. You stumbled back with a gasp as you watched in horror when the man was being brutally beaten by a smaller man dressed in a leather jacket with a hood over his head. You were unable to make out the shorter man's features as he punched the man's face to the point of almost disfiguring him. You have never witnessed such a brutal attack before. The man who snatched your bag had the upper hand with the gun but was bested by the other who had no other weapon in him but his fists.

You quivered in the corner with wet eyes as the shorter man finished beating up the bag-snatcher. His fists were bloodied, and you could tell that he was used to violence. Fear floods your heart when he starts to approach you with your bag in his bloody hands. The alleyway was dark, and it didn't provide the proper light for you to see the man's face. You had sunk into your knees, prepared to beg if the man was planning to beat you up too. However, you were taken aback when the man gently took your hand and returned your bag. Stray tears fall down from your lash line as the man immediately reaches his bloody hand to wipe them away, smudging some of the blood on your face by accident.

You recognized his touch, and it made your heartbeat stop. You blinked up at the man and reached out for his face. As you pulled his face closer, it revealed none other than your boyfriend, Chuuya.

"Chuuya?"

"You weren't meant to see that, darling"

He says lowly to you. When you draw your hands back, he swiftly grabs your wrists and pulls you close to him. His hands began to caress your hair and cheek.

"I'm glad you're safe"

"But you...you just beat up that man—"

"He fucking deserved it"

Your boyfriend growled making your lips shut. Realizing that he had startled you, Chuuya sighs and pulls you into an embrace, but it does not bring you any comfort.

"Why...? You didn't have to do that, Chuuya"

"I was trying to keep you safe, [Name]"

"You nearly beat him to death!"

"That's what he gets for messing with you!"

You pulled away from him. You could faintly see the look on his face, and it didn't look like the man who saved you from the gunfight long ago. You took a step back, clutching your bag against your body, and preparing to run. Chuuya's jaw was tight as he stalked closer to you, almost like a wolf.

"Chuuya, stop"

"Please, doll. I need you, come here"

He couldn't comprehend the petrified look in your face. You shook your head as you slowly processed what was happening.

"...Were you the one following me around?"

"I needed to, babe. I need to keep you safe"

"Following me everywhere does not make me feel safe, Chuuya"

"It's for the best! I need you, [Name]. And you need me. I can't..."

He trails off as he corners you against a brick wall. Your breath hitches as he places his hands on each of your sides, trapping you. Chuuya gives you a desperate look.

"I can't exist without you. Please, [Name]. I'll...I'll give you anything you want. I'll be anything you need"

Chuuya pleads with his face inches away from yours. You felt deeply disturbed by his behavior as you craned your neck and turned your face away. Chuuya just wants you to come sink into him and let him breathe you in.

"I'll be your gravity, you'll be my oxygen"

Yes, that's it. He'll be your gravity, keeping grounded here on earth and keeping you safe, keeping you from floating away from him. And you'll be his oxygen, the only thing that he needs to stay alive. But Chuuya can feel it, he's losing you. And it's tearing his heart apart so violently that a raw ache filled his senses. You no longer looked at him with those glimmering eyes. You looked at him as if you saw the monster he desperately kept away from you. He can feel it, the ugly monster in him laughing victoriously, laughing at how he lost another. But Chuuya kept grasping on, hoping you'd see through the darkness and see his good intentions. 

However, the longer the Mafioso gazed at your face, he realized that you had made your decision. Chuuya reluctantly pulls himself away. He could see it, the end of him and the end of the world. The moment you looked at him frightfully and walked out of that alleyway, leaving him alone in the darkness, the void in him grew larger. But he knows his heart is still beating, and longing for you, and you only. He'll never learn to yearn for anybody else. So, dig two graves 'cause when you die, he'll swear that he'll be leaving by your side.

Since that night, you ran to Chuuya's house collected every single one of your belongings, and left without wasting a minute. You've decided to move somewhere else, preferably away from Yokohama. You've quit your job and found a new apartment to live in. It was in another city, and it took a while for you to find a new job. All that mattered was that you were out of Chuuya's reach. You felt at ease at the thought he would never find you at your new home and that you would truly be safe now.

However, Chuuya thinks that things never ended. He never ceased to give up. You've never told him to his face that you and he are over, and he took it as another chance. It's not the end, he thinks. It wasn't a hassle to find you, considering the number of resources and connections he had, he found your new home in no time. Chuuya found out about your new job and your newly discreet lifestyle. He finds it adorable that you're trying to hide from him. It will never be over. Chuuya will follow to the ends of the earth. He will still remain to ensure that you're alive.

So, you can drag him through hell, if it meant he can hold your hand. He will follow you, 'cause he's under your spell. And you can throw him to the flames. Chuuya will follow you, he will follow you.

Adjusting to your new environment and lifestyle wasn't easy, so you were naturally stressed. Juggling with the adjustment and hiding from Chuuya drained your energy. So, when you caught a glimpse of ginger hair on the way to work, you almost doubled over. But you sighed in relief when you realized it was just a harmless stranger. You're convinced that you're just stressed when you thought you saw Chuuya amongst the customers you were serving in your new job, you checked again and were reassured that he wasn't hiding amongst those faces. You really think you could use a break because you bumped into a guy on the way home and he had the same azure eyes as Chuuya, you wanted to apologize to the stranger, but he has vanished.

Little by little, the gravity manipulator slowly inserted himself into your life again. He blended into the crowd as he followed you to work. He pretended to be somebody else as you served him at your job. And he would deliberately make contact with you in inconspicuous ways to satisfy his yearning for you. To Chuuya, he's willing to suffer just to have you again.

You can drag him through hell, if it meant he can hold your hand. He will follow you, 'cause he's under your spell. And you can throw him to the flames. Chuuya will follow you, he will follow you. 

©kitasgloves (do not steal or copy)

[five-and-dimes]

I have no idea where this came from but I’m never going to turn it into a full fic so I’m releasing it into the void.

Dream is some sort of fae creature whose son died, so he sneaks into a mortal village and kidnaps a young boy around the same age his son was.

(Part of his heart hurts because he never took part in the traditional changeling child/fae kidnapping thing because he couldn’t bear to leave his son with some stranger, he loved him too much, and he knows deep down he shouldn’t do this to someone else but he’s desperate for something, anything, to dull the pain of his loss).

When single dad Hob wakes up and finds his son Robyn missing, he’s fully prepared to go scorched earth to find him. When it becomes clear he’s not in the village, he going charging alone into the woods, too impatient to put a party together to help him. (He’s terrified- he’s heard rumors of fae in these parts, but there was no child left behind. What could have taken his little boy?)

After a few days searching, he hears Robyn’s voice up ahead. He’s got a sword at his side, but for now he draws a bow and arrow, moving forward slowly. Eventually he comes to a clearing, peeking forward and preparing to shoot down whatever took his child. But then. He pauses. 

Robyn is smiling, and laughing, and has an abundance of flowers adorning his hair. He is plucking some berries from a bush and popping them into his mouth under the guidance of the most beautiful creature Hob’s ever seen. As he listens, he realizes that Robyn is talking about him, telling stories of how his papa taught him to identify the things that are safe to eat in the forest, and how tall he feels when he sits on his father’s shoulders, and how his papa has a terrible singing voice but sings the loudest anyway and so Robyn loves it. 

“I think papa will like you lots!” Robyn declares, and the creature smiles sadly.

“I… doubt that… but he sounds lovely.”

Hob is so confused by the whole situation that he doesn’t notice he’s taken a step forward until a branch snaps under his foot. Robyn looks over and immediately bursts into a wide smile, even as the creature lets out a panicked series of chirps and bolts in the other direction.

“Papa!!” 

Robyn throws himself into his father’s arms, and Hob drops his weapons to hold him, beyond relieved to have his son safe in his arms, unharmed. He spends a few minutes just peppering his son’s face with kisses and telling him how worried he was before finally looking at the spot where the creature had disappeared into the woods. Robyn follows his gaze, smiling and tugging on Hob’s hand to guide him into the clearing as he calls out.

“It’s okay, Dream! Papa is super nice to everyone, you don’t have to hide!”

Hob’s sees two bright eyes in the shadows before the creature- Dream- hesitantly steps forward. He looks sad and scared and ashamed and Hob is smitten almost immediately.

Robyn explains that when he woke up he had been scared, but Dream had hugged him (almost as good as his papa’s hugs, he claims) and told him he would keep him safe and take care of him. Then Robyn had been sad because he already missed his dad, and when he told Dream about him he had immediately realized the error of what he had done and resolved to return Robyn. It had taken some time because Robyn had insisted he was too big to be carried (it’s one thing if he was sleeping, but he was a big boy he could walk home just fine, really!) so they had traveled together, Dream never feeding him anything that would bind Robyn to him, instead just pointing out food and water for him to gather himself. 

Dream is still standing a bit aways from them both as Robyn tells the tale, looking at the little boy with aching fondness.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly to Hob, “I just... miss my son so much,” he smiles weakly at Robyn, “I believe you and Orpheus would have been great friends.”

And oh, Hob gets it all of a sudden. He had been fully prepared to do all sorts of questionable things to get his son back, he can’t imagine what he might be compelled to do if he actually lost him. And Dream was bringing him back, so he finds it very easy to forgive him.

He finds it even easier to invite Dream to finish the journey back with them, and then invite him to stay, and then invite him to build a home in the woods together, and share kisses and a bed and a life. 

Robyn is very smug.

He told Dream his dad would like him.

[whore4abby]

italian summer; abby anderson

prologue | part one | part two

warnings; younger!reader (20), older!abby (28), mndi

wc; 1.3k

a/n; inspired by call me by your name. set in the 80s

your parents had somehow convinced you to come and stay at a family friend’s italian villa in a small northern town for the summer, its not that you weren't grateful for the vacation or the break from college, it was the fact that you were staying in the middle of nowhere, isolated from all your friends back home, who were all probably spending their summer together having the time of their lives in your absense.

you were grateful for one thing though, the family friends who own the villa are the andersons, including your childhood best friend, lily, who you haven't seen since since high school when the family moved out of state. you had both kept in touch a little whilst in college and you were so excited to see her again, but you're not sure how much of her you'll be able to handle before you start to get a bit sick of her energetic antics.

you're in the backseat of the navy blue fiat 128, staring out the window at the beautiful italian scenery, the villa surrounded by towering cypress trees and lush, verdant grass. you dad eventually pulls the small car to a gentle halt and you all hop out.

you're practically bouncing up and down as you eagerly rush through the front door of the villa, squealing when you see your old best friend in the living room. a surge of excitement seems to take over her as she jumps up out of her seat and almost tackles you to the ground. “i missed you so, so much! you have no idea…” she giggles and squeezes you so tight you think your might burst. you pull back and look into her bright eyes, smiling widely, “i missed you too! so much…”

the rest of the morning is spent unpacking and spending time with your parents and the andersons, until lily had dragged you away to the pool. you both sit on the edge of the pool, your legs slowly wading back and forth through the cool water as you catch up on on each others lives. you laugh and reminisce together, telling each other every little nostalgic detail of your lives since the last time you saw each other.

lily rests her head on your shoulder as she looks out over the pool, admiring it quietly. you listen closely to the sounds of the calm wind and leaves rustling, the birds chirping and your parents laughter nearby. “i cant believe you guys spend every summer here, its so beautiful…” lily nods excitedly, glancing around at the abundant, flourishing grass around the large pool. “right?! this is my favorite place.”

“oh! also, abby should be arriving tonight.” lily smiles. your face lights up a little at the mention of her older sister but you try not to make it to obvious. you had a crush on abby when you were younger, a silly little schoolgirl crush on your best friends older sister, but the sound of her name still has you tongue-tied and babbling like an idiot.

“o-oh…i…didn’t know she would be here.“ you laugh slightly, trying to sound as casual as possible but the thought of this unexpected reunion and seeing abby again after all these years has your heart skipping a beat. it's a bittersweet feeling, as memories come rushing back, flooding your mind with sentimentality.

lily is completely unaware that you had a crush on her older sister when you were younger and maybe even still to this day. she begins to pick up on the little cues though, seeing how your voice strains and how you get flustered at the mention of her - but she chalks it up to the fact that you’re probably just excited and nervous to see abby again after all this time.

lily and you have spent the majority of your afternoon doing all sorts of activities. you’ve swam in the pool, sat under the sun and relaxed on the deck whilst drinking freshly made lemonade and nibbling your way through a platter of freshly-made food.

as the sun starts to set, shadows dance across your face and the wind rustles the trees melodiously in the distance. you’re still both clad in your swimsuits from the swim earlier, towels wrapped loosely around your shoulders as you both sit in the grass, taking in the gorgeous scenery and breathing in the crisp air.

“oh my god…is that abby?” you gasp as you watch a mysterious woman walk out onto the patio from inside the villa. she’s tall and absolutely gorgeous, her long wavy hair cascading down her back, almost touching her waist, wearing denim shorts paired with a classic black bikini top that shows off her impressive abs which are glistening in the low light from the setting sun.

abby approaches you both smiling smugly as she ruffles lily’s hair. ”it’s been a while, sis.” with her attention focused on lily, she didn’t seem to recognise you sat next to her. her attention is immediately being captured by you when her gaze directs itself to your beautiful face, her expression quickly shifts from one of smugness to curiosity as she stares at you for a moment before she realises who you are.

her eyes roam over every small detail of your appearance, drinking you in as if its the very first time she's ever seen you. “god you’ve changed…” you’re a little taken back and your heart begins beating faster as abby reaches out to you, your eyes flitting between her touchingly gentle hands and her playful but intense gaze. she looks at you for a moment with a curious smile before ruffling your hair with her big hand, an action that makes you shiver and smile shyly. your voice comes out a little breathless as you look up at her “abby….how’ve you been?”

”i’ve been good- busy with work, but in a good way.” she chuckles, tilting her head to the side as your eyes fix on her own. her voice is low and alluring, it only leaves your heart racing even more as she speaks.

abby smiles softly as she talks, her free hand moving to the small of your back. you inhale sharply as her fingertips move up and down your spine, her warm touch having you shiver momentarily. ”i work in ancient architecture. nothing too fancy, although i can’t complain about the pay…and i get to live here in italy!” she lets go of you, crossing her arms across her chest as she sits down in the grass beside you, looking back towards you briefly and smiling.

lily smiles at you both as she looks towards abby and rolls her eyes playfully. “my sister is such a weirdo. i still wonder sometimes if she actually lives in this century or not.” lily giggles while glancing over at you.

“hey! i think her job is very cool.” you smile and glance over at abby. her eyes quickly flick towards you as you glance in her direction, her lips curling up into a small smile as you praise her. ”oh, thank you! i have a lot of fun with it.”

as your two families join together, having decided to enjoy dinner outside in the balmy, summery night. crickets chirping and the sound of genuine laughter and hushed voices creating a murmur that echoes around the table.

you sit on one side of lily and you can see abby across from the both of you, her eyes twinkling under the glow of the moon and lanterns scattered around the dining table. her attention seems fixated solely on you, making you squirm a little in your seat.

everything seems to be going smoothly until that one dreaded question arises. “so, you seeing any boys lately?” lily nudges you excitedly. you freeze momentarily before forcing a smile onto your face that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, shaking your head. “im focusing on college right now…” you try to talk steadily but your fragile voice waivers a little.

abby picks up on your awkward mannerisms, the slightest hint of a smirk spreading across her wine-tinted lips as she watches the scene play out. she leans back in her seat, her eyes set on your own as she takes a deep sip from her glass.

taglist; @atomicami @zombholic @cinnamonmilf @doepretty @catfern @nyctophiliq @astralnymphh @mommysslvt @fleshunger @forthelostones @cryingcherries @macaroni676 @mcqueeferson @onlinelesbo @han4nah

[potteresque-ire]

Happy 8th Debut Anniversary, Gg! Since so many of your fans have already expressed their well wishes so beautifully, I'm just going to post my celebratory dance here 😁😁😁. (What? it's not like I can replicate any other of your or Dd's dance performances!! THIS IS YOUR (AND DD'S) FAULT.) (For those who have not seen this "dark history" gem video from Gg's X-Nine days — it's a rehearsal clip for the X-Nine Variety Show Ep4, aired December 2016 — lyrics + why this performance is in my BJYX treasure chest under the cut!!)

Okay, why don't I start with what the song is about? Published in 1997 by the aboriginal Taiwanese singer Ayol Komod 張震嶽 (Chang Chen-yue), the song is about a teenager's first heart break.

It got very popular because the tune's catchy, and because it's funny! The teenager in question.... definitely isn't the at-the-cusp-of-adulthood-YA-romance-male-lead type. Ayol admitted later that he got the inspiration of the song's grammatically Japanese name, 愛的初體驗, also known as 愛之初體驗 or 愛の初體驗 (Love's First Experience; の being the Japanese character for possessive), from a porn magazine cover in a Japanese convenience store.

(Japanese porn, more commonly known as AV, was (is?) an obsession for many teenage boys in the region, as one can imagine). Now, on to the lyrics. This poor teenager, how did he tell his heartbreak story?

如果說你要離開我 請誠實點來告訴我 不要偷偷摸摸的走 像上次一樣等半年 If you're leaving me, please honestly tell me. Don't sneak your way out, make me wait half a year like last time. 如果說你真的要走 把我的相片還給我 在你身上也沒有用 我可以還給我媽媽 If you're really taking off, give me back my photo. It's not useful on you. I can return it to my mom. 什麼天長地久 只是隨便說說 你愛我那一點 你也說不出口 What is everlasting (love)? It's just talk. What do you love about me? You can't even say. 你認識了帥哥 就把我丟一旁 天氣熱的夏天 心像寒冷冬夜 So you meet a handsome guy, and dump me to the side. Hot is the summer, but my heart is cold as a winter's night. 想要買酒來澆憂愁 卻懶懶不想出去走 想要來一包長壽煙 發現我未滿十八歲 Want to buy alcohol to douse my sorrow, but feel lazy and don't want to go out. Want to buy a pack of Longlife cigarettes, and realize I'm not yet 18. 是不是我的十八歲 註定要為愛情流淚 是不是我的十八歲 註定要為愛情流淚 Is it that my 18 years old is fated to shed tears for love? Is it that my 18 years old is fated to shed tears for love?

The "give the photo back to my mom" is usually when I burst into chuckles ... and makes sure I wouldn't place this teenager, age-wise, anywhere remotely close to adulthood 😁. The lower-end teenage age was suggested in Ayol's original music video too (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4shwLyB7690), in which toys were abundant, including Barbie and Godzilla figures representing the "girlfriend" (who probably thought of the teenager as no more than a kid) and the handsome guy.

I'd place this poor kid in early high school at the oldest, perhaps? Meanwhile, this kid was imagining himself as this tragic male lead suffering a romance-novel-worthy heart break. Hence, the use of phrases and analogies common in those books (such as everlasting 天長地久; literally, "long (in length) as the skies and long (in time) as the earth") and, more importantly, calling up "mature" imageries associated with heart break, of alcohol and cigarettes. These details, ironically, simultaneously gave away just how young he was, most telling being that he was not yet 18 years old, the minimum legal age at the time to purchase both in Taiwan. This explains Gg (and PCY's) awesomely silly moves in the dance, which matched the lyrics both in meaning and in style. While the lyrics isn't included in the video I posted, here's the shot of them playing the teenager handing his photo back to his mom after a swipe of it on his pants (0:36):

... imagining himself getting drunk (~1:13):

... and smoking (1:19):

I've gone through the performances on Youtube of this song (yes, because research is absolutely necessarily on something like this), and this is the only one in which the singer(s) accurately capture(s) the ... 小學雞 Xiao Xue Ji ness of the teenage narrator (Turtles all remember Xiao Xue Ji "Primary School Chicken", right?). Other performances tend to turn the song into a showcase of singing prowess, as is common and, as some of us may be reminded of over these last few days, necessary in performances intended for mainland China's audience (here's an example by Coco Lee (RIP): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uFOCMgB7UoA). While singing prowess is much appreciated, sometimes, an audience like myself just wishes for something fun. Something goofy. For a good laugh, to shout along to (I'd never call whatever escapes my voice box "singing"), to do celebratory dances with. This video delivers for me 😊. With similar sentiments, I prefer this video over the actual performance in the X-Nine Variety Show (https://youtu.be/F1jXP2R-zy4?si=N1Hg1IKwp-dRc_vM 2:10:05), which is more prepped, less casual. Gg mentioned in the show that this song is retro (the glasses were a nod to that; Ayol's MV also had retro elements), and I find the faded colors of the rehearsal video more complementing to this retro feel. Its camerawork was also much better at capturing the fake manga fight that made up so much of the heart of Xiao Xue Ji ness (a special shoutout to whoever feigned the Qi Gong reaction, who did it better than Gg's teammates in the actual show).

Hmm. What else? Oh, maybe, since I'm feeling self-indulgent (I think I say the same thing in every post?), let me share a little something personal that cements the place this performance has in my BJYX treasure chest. Some of you may have noticed the "Longlife cigarettes" (長壽煙) in the lyrics. The very ... curious brand name aside (Longlife? For cigarettes?), this is yet another element in the song in which the teenage narrator tries to create an image of maturity ... and only made him sound young. You see, in Taiwan, cigarettes had used to be sold by the government only, until 1987 when the government opened its market for foreign imports. "Longlife", a high-end cigarette line, had made its debut in the late 1950s. So the brand name, to be fair, had been created before the health effects of cigarettes were known. Regardless, the government's monopoly on cigarette sales allowed Longlife to own the vast majority (more than 3/4) of the marketshare until the foreign brands took over in the late 1980s, after which its sales plummeted.

"Longlife cigarettes" is therefore extremely well known in Taiwan — hence, its inclusion in the song, and to the point that the Taiwanese government, in the early 2000s, got caught in a dilemma + controversy of whether to rebrand the famous cigarettes, now that they were known to work against a long life. (It didn't.)

"Longlife cigarettes" is therefore also retro, the majority of its smokers being of the parents', and grandparents' generation. That our teenage hero thought of Longlife cigarettes — he had likely picked up that image from those generations above him, the "old people" — further suggested his knowledge about cigarettes wasn't from his peers (who would likely be smoking the foreign brands), because he was too young... ... Young, like me! (Hey, I * was * young in 1997!). Longlife just happened to be my grandpa's favourite cigarettes as well. It was ... at the turn of the millenium, a year or two after the release of this song, I think? When my mom told me how she used to light my grandpa's favourite cigarettes for him as a child. Predictably, the brand name made me cackle. Soon, with the Xiao Xue Ji spirit strong in me, it captured my imagination enough that the next time I visited Taiwan, I took a photo with a box of Longlife cigarettes at the airport's duty-free shop before bothering with things like Immigration and Customs. In the same ... chickenly spirit, therefore, I've already reported to my mom that Gg is / has the intention of smoking my grandpa's favourite cigarettes ... my grandpa who passed away before I was born. She has always been amused at my curious enthusiasm over that curious brand name, and she liked that it formed a curious connection between me and my grandpa. She, of course, knows about Gg and Dd, and my curious interest in them. On this happy anniversary, therefore, I may not have a photo to return to my mom, but I have this video and I'm sending it to her. * Duck Dances *

Ah, maybe along with Gg's other performances this week. He's only a superstar now, right? Right ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️.

PS. Gg, seeing you so happy at the concert the other day makes me wonder: can it possibly mean there will soon be good news to share with fans? Just ... curious 😁.

[lunar-tale]

🌈Rainbow Reading🌈

Pick a Jennie Kim

Hello, my loveliesss!! Welcome to my first PAC reading! I've recently started studying Tarot, so please don't come after me if not everything resonates. I'm still a novice and this is just practice for me. Let's have some fun!

From the piles below, pick the one you're most drawn to, and read the corresponding description! I hope it helps!

Pile 1 🔥

There’s something new calling to you - something real, something tangible, something that could truly change the way you move through the world. It might feel like just an idea right now, or a small opportunity, but it holds serious potential. Think of it like a seed waiting to be planted, something solid that, if nurtured, could grow into long-term abundance, stability or even a life that feels more grounded and aligned with who you are becoming.

But to welcome that in, something has to fall away. And it’s not something small. There’s a shift underway, or soon to be and it might shake your foundation a bit - emotionally, mentally or in your outer world. This isn’t destruction for the sake of it. It’s a clearing, a divine interruption. It’s removing what you’ve outgrown, even if part of you was still clinging to it out of familiarity. It may be uncomfortable, but it’s also sacred. You’re being freed, whether you asked for it or not.

Through this, be careful not to let the chaos pull you in every direction. You might feel this urge to act fast, to fix or escape or rush toward something just to feel like you’re moving - but that restlessness could backfire. The message for you is to slow the fire. Don’t act out of impulse. Let the smoke clear before you run. Your energy is powerful, your passion undeniable - but it needs focus. Intention. Patience.

What’s falling apart isn’t a loss - it’s the pruning before the bloom. What’s beginning is no coincidence - it’s your next chapter knocking. So take a breath. Let the old break. And when you move forward, do it with your eyes open and your heart steady. You’re being rerouted to something better.

Pile 2 🌟

Right now, there’s a powerful clarity settling in - sharp, calm and undeniable. This is the moment when emotion steps aside and truth takes the lead. You are being asked to see things as they are, not as they were hoped to be. There’s a strength in this quiet detachment - a wisdom that says, “I’ve lived through too much to let sentiment cloud my judgment.” It’s a grown kind of grace, forged in experience.

And still, beneath that strength, something from the past keeps tugging. Old memories, old feelings, something nostalgic or unresolved that lingers beneath the surface. But it’s not sweet and innocent anymore - it’s distorted, maybe idealized, or even painful now. It may be time to release that grip on what used to be, not because it wasn’t real, but because it no longer reflects who you are. The past served its purpose. You don’t need to carry it into this next chapter.

Because that next chapter? It’s fire. There’s a spark returning - a burst of inspiration, boldness, life-force. Something creative, passionate and full of potential is trying to ignite. This is the green light. The inner flame. That first inhale before you leap. After all the reflection, the detachment and the healing, the universe is saying: “Okay. Now go.” There’s clarity. There’s release. And there’s this powerful new beginning lighting up on the horizon. Trust it. Let it burn.

Pile 3 🌸

You made it to the other side - and it is glorious. This is that full-body exhale. That "I didn’t go through all that for nothing.”

After the cold, the breaking, the reckoning - you find peace. And not just peace, but deep contentment. Emotional safety. A sense of belonging that doesn’t ask you to shrink or sacrifice parts of yourself. You’re stepping into a space where love feels whole. Maybe it’s found in a person, or maybe in a chosen family, a dream you built or simply a life that finally feels like yours. But whatever it is - it’s real. It’s warm. And it’s waiting for you.

And not just love - you’ve earned independence too. There’s a quiet pride here, a softness wrapped in strength. You’ve grown into someone who doesn’t just survive, but thrives. Who knows her worth, who surrounds herself with beauty and calm not because she was handed it - but because she built it. There’s comfort, yes - but there’s also sovereignty. You’ve become someone who walks alone without ever being lonely.

And still, you’re not done. There’s something long-term growing now - something you’ve invested in with care. This is the slow burn, the patient promise. You’re tending it with love, and it’s not quite finished yet. But it’s coming. And when it blossoms? It will be worth every single seed you once planted in the dark. So yes, the breaking was real. But so is the becoming. And you, honey, are so close to the life that will feel like home.

[merakiui]

everything is going to be okay.

yandere!trey clover x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, descriptions of unsettling imagery, derealization, implied drugging, descriptions of hyperdontia, descriptions of teeth falling out, non-graphic allusions to sexual assault, emotional manipulation, gaslighting note: 01110111011011110111010101101100011001000010000001101001001000000110110001101001011001010010000001110100011011110010000001111001011011110111010100111111

i. itchiness - the worst feeling in the world is knowing something is inside of you, and there’s nothing you can do to get it out.

A white rabbit blinks up at you with its beady, red eyes. Its nose twitches. Once. Twice. Thrice. A quiet breeze slithers through the field in which you currently stand, surrounded by lush greenery and colorful wildflowers. They sprawl endlessly, clawing at the horizon beyond with botanical fingers. You watch rainbows sway, dewy petals fluttering like butterfly wings beating against a cloudless, cerulean sky.

You take one step towards the rabbit and it takes off in a sprint, bounding through knee-high grass. You stagger after it, crushing flowers underfoot. Stems snap like spines, sturdy until smashed. You hear agony whispered in the wind: How could you? How could you? How could you?

Shrugging it off, you pursue the rabbit. The grass grows with every passing minute, thickening in abundance. It’s so tall it blocks your view of the sun, eclipsing your figure like a menacing shadow. You fight through it, your gaze pinned solely on the speck of white fur. Verdant blades brush your skin, soft like silk. Itchy like hair. Itchy like maggots wriggling in marrow.

Itchy.

You struggle through the infestation until, eventually, you burst through the grass. The other side is calmer here. When you glance back at the way you came, you find a wall of grass stretching up into the above. The wildflowers are nowhere to be seen, but you can hear them when you stick your head through the grass. They’re still weeping: Why? Why? Why? It’s not fair. We were so happy. You’ve stomped us out—ruined us. We’ll never grow back the same.

“You coming?”

You whirl at the sound of a familiar voice, scanning the field in search of him. Instead, the rabbit is just a few feet away. It tilts its head at you, ears pricked. You meet its scarlet stare.

Something tells you you’re better off waiting. There’s no point in chasing, but curiosity crawls into your cranium. You hurry ahead, single steps sliding into fast, frantic footfalls. The rabbit moves quickly, its little legs thumping against the ground. You run until your every breath squeezes your heart. Until your head is dizzy. Until you’re nauseous and panting.

You run all the way to the edge of a forest, the field falling away in patches, and you reach for the trees, fingers splayed. The rabbit is within your grasp.

You step with your right leg and crush a violet butterwort.

Pain shoots through your foot in a white-hot flash. The butterwort stabs through your sole, emerging from your flesh as if it’s simply a clay pot with soil for snuggling. You yank your leg away and roots are ripped from the ground with it, attached to the flower stuck in your foot. Warm blood trickles out. Green grass is stained rusty-red. It sweeps along your calf, a physical lullaby.

Itchy.

“Fuck,” you hiss, stumbling backwards. The root goes with you, an endless strand set deep into the ground. You tug, but the flower persists. It folds itself into a bow and wraps its petals around your foot in a parasitic hug. “Let go of me.”

At the edge of the forest, the rabbit remains. Watching. Waiting. Wondering.

You flop onto your side, breathing heavy and haggard. The pain is itchy. The blood is itchy. The flower is itchy. You grab at it with shaky fingers and attempt to pry it off. Trees tower overhead, bark bending forwards to loom like leering fiends. With all of your might, you yank the butterwort out. It comes free with a sickening snap, soil-speckled roots dragging through the hole in your foot.

Itchy.

Between the breeze and your devastated whimpers, you hear it—the withered wheezing of the earth beneath your body.

Suddenly, the trees have eyes. Suddenly, everything is alive.

Desperately, you stretch your arm towards the rabbit. It blinks at you. Once. Twice. Thrice. And then it turns and disappears into the forest beyond.

You roll over on your back just as more butterworts bloom from soil moistened with your blood. A garden germinates from flesh and bone.

You shut your eyes.

Itchy.

When you open them, you see a single blade of grass backdropped by a cumulus-spotted sky. He peers down at you, glasses glinting in the sunlight, and offers his hand.

“Nice day for a nap, isn’t it?” He smiles a boyish, lopsided grin.

You stare for another quiet second before closing your hand around his. “Trey…”

Right. Your friend, Trey, who offered to stay with you in the wake of…something. Something about companionship. Something about looking out for you during difficult times. Something about something. 

Was that it? What did he say again?

Words are a valuable thing for people like Trey. When strung together, they create stories and Trey is especially good at amazing others with sugared ambiguity.

You allow him to pull you up. When he moves to brush the grass clinging to your clothes, you jerk away. The two of you stare at each other for an abnormally long time.

A discordant note resounds within your head, a strangled cry from a pretty piano. The jarring crash of splintered glass. Looking at him now, in his green-and-white checkered jumper and boring, beige slacks, you feel…itchy. There’s a dull ache at the back of your throat. You think you might be coming down with a cold.

Spring is just starting to poke through the frost of winter. Even though today’s sunny and the weather is warmer than usual, there’s a frigid feeling in the air. A disconnect between seasons. That odd border between not-quite-winter and not-quite-spring.

“How long was I out for?”

Trey’s hand falls to his side. “Long enough to give the muffins time to cool.” He nods in the direction of the house, a quaint structure built at the edge of the forest. “I made your favorite.”

You brighten like candles lit in a birthday cake. Twenty of them, in fact, all arranged perfectly. It will take twenty more for you to overcome the tragedy of never having the chance to partake, for every slice was dragged onto the plate and devoured with haste. And all the while the flames flickered, burning wax down to tiny stumps.

Itchy.

Blueberry muffins are placed on a circular glass plate. The accompanying dome lid sits off to the side. You take one and turn it over in your hands. How does someone determine their favorite food? And when does that food stop becoming a preference? Memories attach themselves to everything: clothing, rooms, bodies. Even food. If something unsavory happens when indulging in a favorite, the memory soaks into the batter. The next time you encounter it, even if it’s in a dream, you avoid it. Not because the food has lost its flavor, but because the memory has corrupted the comfort of the gastronomic experience.

In a distant past, you think you liked blueberry muffins. Certainly at one point, right?

Still, you bring it to your lips and bite into spongy bliss.

Blood fills your mouth.

Trey’s initial placidity morphs into something disturbed. He moves to your side, to your aid, but you shove him away. The blueberry muffin lands on the table in a spoiled heap, crumbs scattering. You spit chunks of muffin into your palms. It feels like something’s lodged in your throat. A tiny porcelain hand pinching the skin of your esophagus in an unrelenting hold. A wad of something impossible to swallow. Like words or screams.

Crimson-tinged saliva dribbles past your lips. Lying in your hands, amidst bits of chewed muffin, is a sliver of skin.

“(Name)?”

Your name sounds wrong on his tongue.

“Hey, are you okay? Let me get you some water. Wait right there.”

Wrong. It’s wrong.

You stare at the flabby piece of skin. Your skin.

Trey returns with the aforementioned water. He pulls a chair out from the table. “Sit and have a drink. Not too fast. Slowly now.”

The rest of the muffin is swept away, destined for the rubbish bin. While you watch Trey clean up your mess, you sip at lukewarm water. Your tongue squirms in your mouth, searching for the space that’s now bleeding freely. You find it, almost like one finds the space where a missing tooth ought to be, and prod at it with your tongue. It’s raw and sensitive. Stinging slightly. You wince.

“Bit my cheek,” comes your reply when Trey walks over. He wipes his hands on a towel patterned with tulips. “Hurts.”

Trey frowns. Golden hues flick from the plate of muffins to your forlorn face. He lowers to his knees, peering up at you through his glasses. “Don’t eat so fast next time, all right? You could choke.”

“Tastes funny.”

“I can’t imagine it’s very appetizing. Blood and blueberry muffins… A crazy combo, yeah?”

“Yeah…”

He chuckles. “Well.” He runs his hand through his hair. It reminds you of the grass and trees outside. Of a summer that has long since passed. “Nothing like a little scare to liven the afternoon. How’re you feeling?”

You set your half-empty glass on the table. “Better. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. You wanna try another one? I promise the next one won’t have you biting your cheek.”

“I… I think I’m good. Thank you, though.”

“As long as you’re okay, that’s all that matters.” Trey smiles. “I’ll make something softer for dinner. Any requests for the chef?”

You think back on all of your favorites and choose something you wouldn’t mind losing. “Lentil soup.”

After tonight, you’ll never enjoy the taste of that dish again.

Maybe that’s okay. Soups are easy to eat. Easy to slip special sentiments in.

Soup is what becomes of your brain when your body is too itchy.

ii. incessant - static is buzzing in your ears. buzzing, buzzing, buzzing. fluffy like bumblebees. sharp as a sting.

The elusive rabbit is looking at you again, red eyes boring into the back of your skull. You glance over your shoulder at it. A little bow fashioned from blades of grass is fastened around its neck. It nods in a new direction, urging you to follow. For a moment, you stand there and wait. Deep down in some forgotten corner of your stomach, you know you’ll never be able to catch the rabbit.

So you fall into step as it hops off to its destination.

Hedges line the horizon, boasting roses and thorns. The rabbit leads you all the way to the entrance of the maze. A xylophone rattles. You step forward. Another hedge rises from the ground up to trap you inside. With the rabbit out of sight and no other way around, you trek onwards into the maze.

The frequency at which xylophone chimes are registered and translated in your mind are muffled. At best, they’re almost silenced. At worst, they are static—piercing and grating in your ears.

Amidst so much static, Trey’s voice has always remained at the same pitch. An immutable intonation, one that fills the clouds with buoyant assurances: Just relax. You’re all right. I’ve got you.

You don’t think you’ve ever heard him shout, but that makes sense. Grass only whistles and shivers in the breeze. It never screams. It’s soft and sweet—a wondrous embrace until it begins to feel itchy with time. Like a wool sweater. Like ants crawling in lines up your arms. Like cobwebs wrapped around your wrists.

The grass in your garden sounds more like static. Incessant, ear-splitting static. In your brain, bunching up like scribbles on paper, and falling in waterfalls from his mouth whenever he speaks.

It was static you heard when the grass cradled you in wispy tendrils.

Quiet at first, as if the world had been clicked off like a bad program on television, and then the static came seeping in. Rot was encroaching, grabbing at the rabbit and gutting it before your horrified eyes.

Somewhere within the maze, a jovial, uplifting song spills from a spinet. It puts you at ease, filling your soul with serenity.

Itchy dissonance. A rabbit split open, gooey innards tumbling free. Cotton fur tarnished. Lines running red.

Dead.

The spinet swells with rhythm. You’re walking yourself into corners, traveling in circles.

Incessant melodies, ringing in your ears like cicada shrieks.

The circle winds around and around. Where are you going? Hedges on either side, white roses blooming from comforting green. The deeper you delve, the darker they bloom. Mottled, petals wilting, white closes up and shrivels away.

Blotted black with tar, trailing in thick streaks.

Your feet pound against mossy meadows. You need to find the exit. It’s here and then there and then here again. It’s everywhere and then it’s nowhere. It’s here. Here. Here. Here. Here—

Now it’s there!

Static screeches. Blood trickles from your ears.

It hurts until it doesn’t. Until the static numbs everything and all that’s left is nothing. Blank and bitter, a wonderland set on mute.

The hedges breathe alongside you. It’s incessant, unintelligible static.

Frosting melts on cake. Pastels are sticky and spoiled. Candles droop.

A xylophone played in garbled glissando.

Quiet breaths. In and out. In and out. The grass whispers to you: “Hey, it’s fine. You trust me, right?”

In and out.

Out and in.

In and out.

Out. Out. Out. Incessant itchiness. Get it out.

Glass shatters. The rabbit’s heart, still beating faintly, is slit. 

That…didn’t just happen, did it?

It didn’t, right?

Grass is supposed to be soft and full of life when watered with love.

That didn’t just happen.

What happened?

The grass billows in a breeze. “You’re fine. I’ve got you.”

You’re not. You…are anything but fine.

What happened?

You run under an arch, past thinning hedges, over the threshold, and burst into the kitchen.

“Trey!”

He startles, almost dropping a bowl of cake batter. His glasses sit crooked on his face. It takes a moment for him to process your arrival. He sets the bowl on the countertop and turns fully to face you, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. His concern makes your skin prickle.

Itchy.

“Everything okay?”

Incessant.

“Why…” Your fingers curl around the doorframe. You gulp down a gasp. “Why are you here again?”

He gives you a weird look. “You said you needed my help—that you were having trouble getting up in the morning. Remember? Actually… Here. How about this? Do you want me to fix you a cup of chamomile? It’ll help with anxiety and insomnia.”

Your once rapid-moving world slows to a screeching halt. You said that? When? When did you say that? When the fuck did you say that?

“I…don’t remember saying that. Ever. I don’t think I invited you here either…”

Trey shakes his head, tutting softly. “I get it. It’s rough. I know.” He folds the spatula through the batter. Calmly. “But you’re exaggerating. I’m only here to help.”

Static. Incessant, itchy static. You blink owlishly at him, straining to hear over it.

“What?”

“I came over because you asked me to, and I’m staying to make sure you’re all right.”

“I’m fine.” You point towards the door. “I think… Trey, I think you need to leave.”

His arm, which had previously been moving in circles, falls still. He sets the bowl down again. “We’ve talked about this before, (Name).”

“I don’t remember.”

“All the more reason for me to stay, yeah?”

“No… No, that’s not—”

Trey smiles, his tone lighthearted. “Hey, relax. You’ll feel better after something sweet. It won’t take long for the cake to bake. Wait for a little longer. If you want, you can lick the spatula when I’m done—”

“I don’t want cake.”

“No? I remember you told me it was your favorite, though. Am I remembering wrong?”

Is he?

“It’s…gross.”

“Gross?” He chuckles sheepishly. “That bad, huh? Not a fan of my baking?”

You gaze past him at the batter in the bowl. Confetti cake. You look towards Trey again. “What was that?”

He opens his mouth, but you don’t hear the words.

Static.

Incessant, itchy static.

You track his lips, his eyes, his hands.

“What?”

Sound seeps in, crunchy but audible.

“…a joke,” he’s saying. “I was just joking.”

“I don’t understand…”

“Don’t worry about it. My feelings aren’t hurt. I know you enjoy my baking.”

The TV tunes into a nonexistent channel. Static buzzes on the screen.

Loud. Louder. So loud!

You can’t hear yourself think. Can’t hear your lungs wheeze. Can’t hear yourself speaking slowly as you stumble into the grass’s green embrace.

Incessant. You’ll go insane. Static. Incessant. Too much. You feel sick. Bile drags itself up your throat.

Loud. Loud. Loud. Impossibly, incessantly loud!

Your arm sweeps through the air. The bowl is flung across the room. Ceramic shatters. Batter spatters on the wall and kitchen tiles. You feel the dull ache in the aftermath. Trey’s speaking, but it’s just static. All-consuming. Buzzing like flies over birthday cake gone bad. Incessant.

And then the TV clicks off.

And then it’s quiet.

iii. insanity - over and over and over and over and over and over and over and and and and and and and andandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandand01100001011100100110010100100000011110010110111101110101001000000110111101101011011000010111100100111111

Teeth. All thirty-two of them. Porcelain teeth. All forty-two of them.

They grow under your tongue and along the roof of your mouth in clusters. Insanity. It’s doing the same thing incessantly while anticipating different results. Insanity. It’s looking at too many teeth crammed where they shouldn’t be.

Opening your mouth as wide as it can go, you peer at yourself in the mirror. Your tongue runs along them. Smooth.

Teeth. All fifty-two of them. Hellish hyperdontia.

Grass is pesky when it gets in your mouth, reaching far with green fingers.

Flossing is important. If you forget, your gums will bleed and bleed, and then your mouth will be in for a world of pain. You’re smarter than this, so you need to keep up good dental hygiene. Brush and floss as you would, but not too hard or else you’ll break.

Insanity. It’s taking advice from butterworts and rabbits—from meadows tilled and filled with sin.

Teeth. Too many. Have you been flossing properly?

And then they’re at the back of your throat, sprouting from skin like the dainty heads of a dozen Frozen Charlottes. You stick your fingers down your throat to grab at one, but you can’t get hold of it. You cough. Teeth are closing up your esophagus. You look at your mouth and see a lamprey.

Insanity. It’s full of teeth.

You gag around them, heaving mouthfuls of air that struggle to reach your lungs. You feel teeth in there, too, growing in groups like an invasive species. You brace yourself against the sink, gripping the edge so tightly your knuckles sting. Your jaw is starting to feel sore.

Terrified, you find your reflection staring back with wide eyes. And then the first tooth comes loose. It falls into the basin of the sink with a pattering clink. You inhale through your nose, and that’s as much of your shock as you can express before more teeth follow suit. They shift out of your gums, one by one, until dozens of them are spilling out in calcium rain. Bent over the sink, you spit and spit. Tears threaten to pour from your eyes.

This can’t be happening.

You try to scream, to beg for it to stop, but the teeth keep coming. For every few that fall out, twenty more grow. It’s a cycle.

Insanity.

Incessant.

Itchy.

You sob helplessly, salt mingling with saliva and teeth.

When you look back at the mirror, you see blood stringing from empty gums.

The bathroom light flickers. Dizzying darkness. An unusual heat settles under your skin.

Itchy.

Incessant.

Insanity.

The bathroom light flickers. Blinding brightness. You’re still reeling. The heat won’t go away. Your eyelids are heavy. You feel sleepy, but it’s only early evening.

“Everything okay?”

You spy Trey in the mirror. His arm is propped against the doorframe as he leans in, half of his body shrouded in the shadows from the hall.

You swallow. It goes down smoothly. The teeth have retreated.

“T-Too much chamomile,” you grind out, reaching up to touch the column of your throat.

Teeth. All thirty-two of them.

The basin is empty. No teeth.

“How about a slice of bread? You’ve gotta eat something, (Name).”

“I’m not hungry.”

Your tongue traces all thirty-two of your teeth. They’re there, rooted firmly in your gums.

Trey frowns. “At least let me heat the leftover lentil. It’s liquid. You won’t bite your cheek again.”

“I might burn my tongue.”

“If you’re worried, I could feed you instead. Airplane it and everything.”

At your bewildered stare, Trey laughs and holds his hands up in mock surrender.

“Joking.”

“Are you really here to help me?”

He lowers his arms. An uncanny cold fills the bathroom.

“Nothing is going to get you.”

“What?”

“There’s nothing here, (Name). You’re safe.” Trey glances down the hall for good measure. The hair on your neck rises, alert. “It’s in your head. You’re messing with yourself, you know, getting worked up over things that aren’t really there. I promise you’re okay. Nothing can hurt you while I’m here.”

It’s not in your head. Of course not. It couldn’t be.

Right?

It’s not really in your head, is it?

You storm out of the bathroom, pushing past Trey in your impatience. He follows you soundlessly. Everything looks the same. The sofa. The wallpaper. The kitchen. The cracks and creaks. Nothing’s changed.

So is it in your head? What is it—the thing in your head? It’s itchy and incessant. It makes everyone gaze at you as if you’re insane.

If you could, you’d take a scalpel to your body and cut yourself out of your skin, put it through a long wash cycle, and hang it out to dry. Maybe then the thing would leave.

You stop at the front door, suddenly hesitant. Has it all been in your head? Are you going crazy? Is Trey right: There’s nothing here and you’re making everything up?

You wrench it open.

A black rabbit blinks up at you with its milky-white eyes. Its nose twitches. Once. Twice. Thrice. A loud gust slithers through the field in which you currently observe, surrounded by decaying greenery and wilted wildflowers. They sprawl endlessly, clawing at the horizon beyond with broken fingers. You watch monochrome tones sway, dried petals flaking off like scabs against a battered, bloodless sky.

You take one step towards the rabbit and it takes off in a sprint, bounding through—

The grass gathers you in a hug. It whispers strangely soothing static.

“Everything is going to be okay.”

iv. 01101001011101000010000001110111011000010111001100100000011000010110110001110111011000010111100101110011001000000111010001110010011001010111100100101110

[pitchprowler27]

Hearts On The Sidelines Part 5

Ellie was at Bobby’s apartment, lounging on his couch while he dramatically recounted his latest work story, complete with exaggerated hand gestures and an abundance of flair. She was only half-listening, her thoughts drifting back to Leah—her smile, her confidence, and the gentle way she’d held Ellie’s hands outside the club. It had been a week since that night, and Ellie had replayed the moment in her head more times than she cared to admit.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table, interrupting Bobby mid-rant.

“Oh, what’s got you so popular?” he teased, leaning forward to peek.

Ellie grabbed her phone before he could, her heart skipping when she saw Leah’s name light up the screen.

Leah: Hey, pretty girl. Got plans this Friday night?

Ellie blinked at the screen, her palms suddenly clammy. Plans? Did Leah mean… plans plans? Her mind raced, half-wanting to reply immediately, half-wanting to toss her phone into the nearest cushion and pretend she hadn’t seen it.

Bobby raised an eyebrow. “What’s that look for?”

“It’s Leah,” Ellie said, her voice somewhere between a squeak and a whisper.

“And?” Bobby prompted, waving his hand for her to go on.

“She—she’s asking if I have plans Friday.”

Bobby’s face split into a wide grin. “Ooooh, baby girl, she’s asking you out. Don’t just sit there—answer her!”

Ellie hesitated, her thumbs hovering over the keyboard. “What if she’s not? What if it’s, like, a group thing or something?”

“Ells,” Bobby said, his tone deadpan, “this is Leah Williamson we’re talking about. That girl is not subtle. She’s into you. Now answer before she thinks you’re ignoring her.”

Ellie took a breath and typed back.

Ellie: Not yet. Why?

The response came almost immediately.

Leah: Good. I want to take you out. A proper date. Dinner and everything.

Ellie stared at the words, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might leap out of her chest. Bobby snatched the phone from her hands before she could stop him, reading the message and letting out an obnoxiously loud squeal.

“She said it!” he crowed. “She actually said ‘date.’ Oh my god, Ellie, this is it. Your time has come.”

“Give it back!” Ellie lunged for her phone, snatching it from his grasp and glaring at him. But she couldn’t stay annoyed, not when her chest felt like it might burst from excitement and nerves.

Ellie: I’d like that.

Leah: Friday at 7. I’ll pick you up. Wear something nice ;)

Ellie groaned, already feeling the heat creep up her neck at Leah’s casual confidence.

“See? Told you,” Bobby said smugly, flopping back onto the couch. “You’re going on a date with the Leah Williamson. I hope you know I expect a full report.”

Ellie rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “Yeah, yeah. Now help me figure out what to wear.”

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

The restaurant hummed with soft conversation and the clinking of silverware, creating a bubble of intimacy that Ellie wasn’t used to. Across from her, Leah seemed perfectly at ease, leaning slightly forward with her chin propped on her hand, her piercing gaze trained on Ellie like she was the only person in the room.

Ellie wasn’t sure if it was the wine, Leah’s undivided attention, or the flickering candlelight, but she felt unusually warm. Still, the awkwardness simmered under the surface, like a pot threatening to boil over.

Leah noticed her fidgeting fingers and reached across the table, gently covering Ellie’s hand with her own. The sudden warmth of Leah’s touch stilled Ellie, her eyes flicking up to meet Leah’s.

“You’re nervous,” Leah said softly, her voice a low hum that felt more like a balm than an observation.

“I’m not nervous,” Ellie lied, her tone betraying her. She dropped her gaze, staring at where their hands touched. “Okay, maybe a little.”

Leah smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “You don’t have to be, you know. It’s just me.”

Ellie huffed a laugh. “Just you? You’re Leah Williamson. That’s not exactly nothing.”

Leah’s thumb brushed lightly over the back of Ellie’s hand. “Ellie,” she said, her tone firmer but still gentle. “To you, I’m just Leah. No Captain, no star player, no fanfare. Just me. And I’m here because I want to be.”

Ellie swallowed hard, her chest tightening at Leah’s words. It wasn’t often that someone spoke to her with such sincerity, without any expectation or ulterior motive. She nodded, more to herself than Leah.

“I’m not great at this,” Ellie admitted, her voice barely audible above the din of the restaurant.

Leah tilted her head slightly. “At what?”

“This,” Ellie gestured vaguely between them. “Talking. Being open. Letting people in.”

Leah’s smile softened, her fingers giving Ellie’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “That’s okay. You don’t have to be great at it. You just have to be honest. Start small.”

Ellie hesitated, biting her lip as she stared at the tablecloth. The silence stretched just long enough for Leah to pull back slightly, giving Ellie the space she needed.

“I wasn’t always this awkward, you know,” Ellie finally said, a small, self-deprecating smile tugging at her lips. “The Army kind of… changed things.”

Leah stayed quiet, her expression unreadable but patient. Ellie glanced up and saw that Leah’s gaze hadn’t wavered, her blue eyes steady and open.

“When you’re in that kind of environment, you learn to shut out a lot of things,” Ellie continued. “Feelings. Connections. Anything that could make you hesitate when it mattered.”

Leah nodded slowly, not breaking eye contact. “Makes sense.”

“It worked there,” Ellie said, a bitter edge creeping into her voice. “But now? Now I don’t know how to turn it off. I’m fine when it comes to work, but when it’s something like this…” She gestured between them again, her fingers tightening slightly around Leah’s hand. “I feel like I’m failing some basic human test.”

Leah chuckled softly, the sound low and reassuring. “You’re not failing anything, Ellie.”

Ellie met her eyes, her own filled with uncertainty. “How do you know?”

Leah leaned back slightly, her hand never leaving Ellie’s. “Because I’m sitting here with you, and I wouldn’t be if I didn’t want to be. And because you’re here, too, even though I know it’s hard for you. That’s enough.”

Ellie blinked, her throat tightening at the weight of Leah’s words. She looked away, embarrassed by the tears that pricked at the corners of her eyes.

“You’re really good at this,” she muttered, trying to deflect.

Leah grinned, her fingers brushing lightly over Ellie’s knuckles. “What can I say? I have my moments.”

Ellie rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile that broke through. “Cocky,” she murmured.

“Confident,” Leah corrected, her tone playful but still warm. “And for the record, I think you’re pretty great at this, too. Even if you don’t see it.”

Ellie laughed quietly, a sound that felt more like a release than amusement. “You’re too nice.”

“Maybe,” Leah said with a shrug. “Or maybe I just think you’re worth it.”

The words settled over Ellie like a blanket, warm and comforting. For the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel the need to run from the vulnerability. She nodded again, her fingers tightening slightly around Leah’s.

“Thanks,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the emotions swirling beneath the surface.

Leah smiled, her thumb still tracing soothing patterns on Ellie’s hand. “Anytime, pretty girl.”

And just like that, Ellie felt a tiny crack form in the walls she’d built around herself—small but significant.

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

The walk back to Ellie’s apartment was filled with quiet laughter and a lightness Ellie hadn’t felt in years. The cool evening air nipped at her cheeks, but Leah’s presence beside her was a comforting warmth that chased away the chill. They walked close, shoulders brushing every so often, and each time, Ellie felt a jolt of awareness that made her heart flutter.

When they reached Ellie’s door, she fumbled for her keys, her nerves creeping back in. Leah stood patiently behind her, her hands tucked into the pockets of her blazer. Ellie finally managed to unlock the door, pushing it open just enough to let the light from inside spill out.

“Well, this is me,” Ellie said awkwardly, her hand lingering on the doorknob as she turned to face Leah.

Leah smiled, stepping closer until she was just a breath away. “I had a great time tonight,” she said softly, her voice low and warm. “You surprised me.”

Ellie tilted her head. “Surprised you?”

Leah nodded, her gaze steady and intent. “I knew I’d like you, but I didn’t expect to feel so…” She trailed off, her lips quirking into a smirk. “Captivated.”

Ellie’s cheeks burned, and she dropped her gaze, unsure how to respond. Before she could overthink, Leah reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against Ellie’s chin, gently tilting her head up.

“Don’t hide from me, pretty girl,” Leah murmured, her thumb grazing Ellie’s cheek. “I like seeing you.”

Ellie’s breath hitched, her pulse quickening. She didn’t have time to formulate a response before Leah leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that was soft but firm, her hand sliding to the back of Ellie’s neck to hold her close. Ellie melted into the kiss, her hands instinctively gripping Leah’s blazer for support.

Leah deepened the kiss, her other hand coming to rest on Ellie’s waist, grounding her while pulling her closer. Ellie wasn’t used to this kind of attention—focused, intentional, and completely consuming. She felt like she was standing on the edge of something vast and wonderful, and for once, she wasn’t scared to take the leap.

When Leah finally pulled back, her forehead rested lightly against Ellie’s, her breathing just a little uneven. “You okay?” she asked softly, her thumb brushing the curve of Ellie’s jaw.

Ellie nodded, her voice caught in her throat. “Yeah,” she managed to whisper, her hands still gripping Leah’s blazer like a lifeline.

Leah chuckled, the sound soft and low, before pressing a kiss to Ellie’s temple. “Good. Because I’d like to see you again.”

Ellie looked up, her eyes wide and unsure. “You would?”

“Ellie,” Leah said, her voice dipping into something more serious. “You’re not a fling for me. I’m here because I want to be. And I want to keep being here, as long as you’ll let me.”

Ellie swallowed hard, the weight of Leah’s words settling over her. She nodded slowly, a small, tentative smile tugging at her lips. “I’d like that.”

Leah smiled, leaning in to press another kiss to Ellie’s forehead, this one lingering. When she pulled back, she tucked a strand of Ellie’s hair behind her ear. “Go inside, pretty girl. Get some sleep.”

Ellie hesitated, reluctant to let the moment end. “Do you want to come in? Just for a little while?”

Leah’s smile softened, her hand sliding down Ellie’s arm to give her hand a gentle squeeze. “Not tonight,” she said, her tone tender but firm. “I want to take my time with you.”

Ellie felt her face heat again, but there was no mistaking the warmth in Leah’s gaze or the sincerity in her voice. She nodded, stepping back into her apartment. “Goodnight, Leah.”

“Goodnight, Ellie,” Leah said, her voice like a promise. She lingered for a moment, watching Ellie before turning to leave, her steps slow and deliberate.

Ellie closed the door, leaning against it with a sigh. Her heart was racing, and her lips still tingled from Leah’s kiss. For the first time in a long while, she felt like maybe—just maybe—she could let someone in. And that thought, as terrifying as it was, felt like the beginning of something wonderful.

[starhvney]

Ah! Love love your fics, Garroths #1 fan here!

Could I possibly request a fic about helping that man with his EXTENSIVE skin and haircare routine? Maybe he's doing some of it for you? Just a good domestic loving time ^^

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐘

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: mys garroth x reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: a few days of the month were always designated by garroth for you both to have a full day of self-care and relaxation. in these moments you seem to always forget about the outside world, the comforting safety of your boyfriend the only thing that matters.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: pure fluff, slice of life, established relationship, self-care, garroth being super lovey-dovey and sickeningly sweet

𝐂𝐖: none

𝐀/𝐍: i’m running on fumes atm, but i think i may have cooked with this one

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

the corners of your lips wobble, a mixture of amusement mixed with adoration bubbling up from your heart to your face. you’re unable to hide the burst of your emotions, quiet giggles filling the peaceful air between you and your boyfriend in the bathroom you both stood in.

blond lashes lift to reveal deep cerulean eyes, the pupils too dilated as he looks at you to show the yellow hue that resides in the very center of his irises. they sparkled with a fond mirth that seemed to be especially reserved for you, despite the abundant amount of love and adoration he seemed to share with everyone he cared for. one corner of his lips curled up in a poorly held-back grin, his nose wrinkling at you.

“are you laughing at me?” he accuses, playful offense in his voice as a deep chuckle escapes his throat.

you pull your hands back, successfully securing his golden curls back with the fuzzy blue and white polka-dot headband he’d chosen to wear for your skincare routine. you’d both already been going through the extensive and long routine of garroth ro’meave’s making—one he without fail kept up with several times a month. it’s no wonder he managed to have such clear soft skin and beautiful hair at all times, so when you started to date him you very gladly had him as encouragement to do the same. after all, you have to stay on the same level of handsomeness he did to date him (this was not concluded by his words, you’re sure he’d insist you looked angelic even if you wore a trash bag).

and while he was always handsome, he looked so undeniably cute right now. it says a lot considering the man was twice your size and over a head taller than you, his broad shoulders making you and your bathroom feel a lot smaller than reality.

it was so funny, too, because he always seemed to forget this very unavoidable detail about himself. he was like a large puppy who insisted on sitting on his owner’s lap, despite being way too big to do so.

“i would never make fun of you.” you say in defense, snickering when he narrows his eyes and pouts his lips out in disbelief. 

he hums, securing your matching headband (he insisted you both matched) and turning to the sink to lather face wash onto his hands and gently beginning to work the cleanser onto your face

“oh, really?”

“nuh-uh. i’d never—!” you start, letting out a grunt of surprise from behind closed lips as he moves his soapy hand over your mouth.

he snickers in amusement, his large hands moving to your cheeks and fully squishing them between his fingers. “is that so? cause i could’ve sworn i heard giggling from you…”

“ah!” in automatic response your hands shoot up to his wrists, trying to tug his grip away from your face. “release me!”

“what was that?” he raises his eyebrows, smushing your cheeks together to pucker your lips like a puppeteer—while he begins to mimic your voice in a very poor high-pitched impression. “i think you meant to say: i’m so sorry, garroth—the beautiful love of my life! i would never ever laugh at you, cause you’re sooo handsome and have the most luscious hair and skin than anyone in the whole world! i love you so—”

“—i wasn’t making fun of you! stop it!” you barely manage to get out with a groan through your uncontrollable giggles and puffed lips. “i was laughing cause you looked so cute! i don’t deserve this torture!”

evil cackles leave his throat, which recedes to softer giggles as he stops his attack to gently massage and caress your face. “i guess i can let you off the hook, then.”

you huff with crossed arms, while deep chuckles continue to rumble from his chest. his hands pull away as he turns on the sink, rinsing his hands and gesturing at it for you. “you can rinse your face now.”

it would be a lot easier if you both would just wash your own faces, but as you both had started this routine, garroth has insisted on helping you with every step. it was silly for some parts, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tease him about it. it was in his nature to take care of the people he loved—that was abundantly clear in everything he did—so how could you make fun of his want to care for you in even the smallest routines?

without another word you turn to bend over the sink, rinsing away the soap suds to leave your face feeling clear and fresh, a real treat to the intense and long hair treatment regimen you both had just endured. something about the cool water rinsing away the last of the excess oil and dirt sent a wave of sleepiness over you, which wasn’t helped by garroth when he gently massages your shoulders. he quietly giggles under his breath at your droopy eyes, holding onto your shoulders and sliding his hands up to the sides of your neck to keep you from wobbling over.

“should i wash my face this time, sleepy girl?” he murmurs, rubbing circles on your skin.

you shake your head, reaching forward to lightly push against his abs. “no, i’ll do it. but you have to sit on the counter, mr. ro’meave. i can’t reach your face well from here.”

“yes, ma’am.” he immediately obliges, grinning almost goofily as he leans back into the counter, leaving you just enough room between his thick thighs to stand between. he looks so giddy, the smallest suggestion of physical affection always enough to send him over the moon.

“for such a giant, you are so cute.” you coo softly, lathering up some of his face wash and gently spreading it across his forehead first.

as comfortable as you both were in your relationship now, garroth could still manage to get flustered every once in a while—and the red blush that heats up his ears satisfies you as always. his hands play at the hem of your shirt, eyes drifting down as he rubs circles into your skin through the material.

you can’t help but to pay it just a little further, so before you rub the soap against his cheeks and chin you lean forward to press a small kiss on his lips.

“and you’re sooo handsome. with the most luscious hair and skin in the world.”

for a moment he looks dazed–before he seems to finally process your words. a snort leaves his lips, and he barely keeps his head from tipping forward into you as he rocks in amusement. he quickly recovers a moment later, straightening up to puff out his chest with a ridiculously suave look on his face.

“really? you think so?” he moves like he was trying to flip his hair but forgot the headband was there, and the blue bow that held his curls back simply flopped on his head.

“yes, you big dork.” you roll your eyes, grabbing his chin to keep him still as you rub the soap onto the rest of his face. “like you haven’t been told that by your mom and every person who has ever laid eyes on you.”

“yeah, but it’s different coming from you.” he chuckles. “i like when you feed my ego.”

he pauses.

“…and my mom. but that’s different too.”

“mhm, and zianna’s opinion is always right, so.” you move to rinse off your hands, shimmying from the trap of garroth’s thighs and nudging him to get up again. “okay, you can rinse your face.”

he hums, hopping off the counter and moving over the sink to rinse off his face. “yeah, she really is… most of the time. plus…”

he pauses as he splashes water over his face, rubbing the product off of his skin until it’s clear. you hand him his towel, and he smiles softly at you before patting his face dry. “… the only opinions on my looks that i really care about are yours and her’s, anyways.”

“oh, really?” you muse softly, reaching forward to grab onto his waist, squeezing at the strong thick muscles there and pulling yourself towards him. “you keep up this extensive skin and hair routine just for me, now?”

strong arms wrap around you, pulling you into him by your shoulders. he tilts his head, eyes shining as he looks down at you, an unstoppable little soft smile curved on his lips.

“well, a little for me, too. i’ll admit, i do like being complimented by people—and feeling clean. but, yes. i mainly do it to look good for you now.”

you smile, lifting up on your toes to press another kiss on his jaw. “well, you’re doing a pretty good job, then. i say so.”

there’s a nearly inaudible sigh that comes from his lips, his eyes fluttering shut as he contentedly rocks from side to side. the smile on his face is almost goofy, like he’d just inhaled some drug that made his brain loopy.

“okay, handsome. face masks next?”

he hums, nodding his head and leaning down to press a few lazy kisses against your cheek, his thumbs rubbing against your waist. “yeah, the facemask’s next.”

his arms untangle from your back as he steps away once more, this time over to the little basket where you keep all your face mask supplies. when he turns around, he’s holding up two different options for you, weighing the foil packages in his hands.

“…you want the cucumber one or the tea tree one?”

“mmm, up to you.” you hum, shrugging complacently and smiling, completely fine with whichever one he chooses.

“well, you’re no help at all.” he scoffs playfully. “guess i’ll have to choose for you then.”

his eyes dart between the two, before he gives the tea tree mask a dramatic look of distaste and tossing it behind his head. the package hits the wall and flops a foot away from the basket, but he doesn’t seem to pay any mind to it, instead waving you closer to him again.

“here, come here.”

you snicker under your breath, stepping forward without any further comments and closing your eyes.

there’s a bit of crinkling in the quiet bathroom as he unfolds the mask, and just a moment later you feel him gently smoothing the chilled mask onto your face. the sensation is a little jarring as always, but the discomfort fades to a soothing sensation on your skin immediately after.

he gently grabs your shoulders as you open your eyes again, spinning you around to face the mirror and resting his chin on your head.

“look how cute.” he coos, rocking side to side.

you deadpan at your reflections, holding up a peace sign and pursing your lips. “i know right? ‘kay. it’s your turn.”

“pfft… yes, ma’am” he chuckles, leaning down to meet your height and closing his eyes as you rip open the other package.

you paste the cooled mask against his face, patting his cheeks once it’s pasted against his skin and leaning back to admire the silly look. “what a dashing gentleman you are.”

“oh, yeah. you can’t beat this.” he laughs, striking the same pose in the mirror you did before he suddenly steps forward, wrapping his arms around your waist and hoisting you up into his arms. “now we get to cuddle for fifteen minutes.”

“ah, the true motive.” you giggle as he eagerly carries you into your bedroom, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“it’s always my motive.” he chuckles, gently setting you down on the mattress before clambering beside you and pulling you back into his chest.

wrapping his large arms around you, he engulfed your form with his as he grabbed the remote to your tv, clicking play on the rom-com you’d both been watching earlier. his chest was the perfect pillow, and the constant warmth he seemed to radiate soothed your already sleepy head to a content half-nap state. a happy hum and a small yawn leaves your lips.

“are you sleepy?” he chuckles. his voice is a warm grumble above your head, the soothing vibrations resonating from his chest as he speaks.

“mm,” you vaguely answer, as every noise around you fades and turns into a mindless buzz.

you barely register the quiet buzzing of garroth’s phone timer going off, barely stirring from your comforting doze when he nudges your arm. you are awake, but the moment was just too comfy to be brought out of. 

“you’re so tired, huh?” you hear him hum under his breath, a sweet chuckle leaving his lips as he gently pulls off the mask from your face before moving to take off his own. “fine, i guess this once i’ll skip the last few steps. just for you.”

his fingers begin to gently massage in the leftover moisturizer from the mask into your face, his touches so gentle you don’t think it’s doing much help at all. while you could fall asleep, you just can’t resist the urge to open your eyes and get a glimpse of his admiring face above you.

your curiosity is greatly rewarded, a small smile quirking at your lips at his look of concentration to pull away the headband from your head without disturbing you. an involuntary quiet giggle leaves your lips as you look up at his glowing face and pursed lips, his golden curls now surrounding his head like a halo.

he looks to you in surprise for a moment, before narrowing his eyes and leaning down to pepper a few kisses along your forehead. “what are you giggling about now, sweetheart?”

“my pretty boy.” you murmur, shimmying to turn into his chest and nudging for him to lay back down with you.

the tips of his ears turn pink at your compliment, his chest rumbling with a gentle laugh as he concedes to your silent request. you could admire that look on his face for longer, but when he hums and tucks your head right under his chin again, you’re soothed into a drowsy state once again. his fingers continue to trace along your skin, the movements slow and lazy.

your sleepiness seemed to be contagious, and he seemed perfectly content in catching it, his slow movements coming to a stop as you both drifted away in the perfectly serene moment.

©starhvney, 2024. please do not steal or repost my works as your own.

taglist: @wasting-away-on-the-internet @angelhyperfixates @valentique @arienic @dazedbydeath @theaquaticplant @starsbrightly @kalegrinch

[maliland]

RESENTMENT: PT. 2

"how could you lie?" part one angel(s): e-42 miles morales & black fem reader includes: angst, infidelity, homewrecking, depressing themes, & heartbreak (men being disappointments per usual) synopsis: you used to describe your experience with love as one of complexity and simplicity all at once, but after you learn what your boyfriend did at a party with another girl while you were at home and sick, your heart is left with irreparable damage and an abundance of resentment. wc: 6.7k divider by @/cafekitsune a/n: this is gonna be my last sv fic for a hot min (or forever) 😭 savor and enjoy. ik the tag has been dead and you all have been malnourished, so yw! <3 icl, idk how i feel about it but y'all can lmk 🫶 (p.s: before ppl start nothing non-pg ever happened in this fic at any point in time. just kissing. ion get down like that 👍 thanks.)

when you arise in the morning and before you lay your head to rest at night, one thing is always definite: you are human.

humans are imperfect, so they make mistakes. genuine ones. honest ones. you’ve mixed up salt and sugar while baking chocolate chip cookies. you’ve hit your best friend square in the face while trying to spike a volleyball. you’ve missed assignment deadlines, forgotten about chores, and left the grocery list at home, all honest mistakes. a boy pressing his lips to another girl’s, though he has another he calls his own, is not a mistake. if it were up to you, it’d be a crime punishable by execution. between miles and yourself, no mercy was shown for the loyal one of you two, so why should he be granted any? infidelity; the act itself is the murder of the most important, sacred muscle, so why not return the favor?

you know your intentions before you give into the temptation of them. you knew miles knew. he knew from the moment that girl pulled him over to a vacant bedroom. did he think they’d simply exchange pleasantries? even so, why partake in such with someone who clearly has a taste for you? a taste for insulting the one you love most just as easily as she breathed?

these are all questions that would never be answered truthfully. you’d have to make peace with the reality or the only peace you’d know was the eternal kind that followed after death. and to think that you once believed in those stupid children’s fairy tales. miles made you believe that that kind of love could be real life. he almost made you believe you could attain the happy ending you always dreamed about. you were so close to it too. to have your bubble burst like that by the person you love most..? cold. way colder than the shivers repeatedly sinking down your spine.

it was a stupid idea to leave your window open.

the medicine you had taken for your cold had you knocked out in the warmth of your bed and you slept soundly. the chilly air would blow through the curtains now and then. the wind was only a light breeze at first. it felt nice, maybe even comforting, but when night finally fell, the current picked up. you were woken up by an icy blast hitting your face.

you groaned and slowly rose up, pulling the covers off of you before you swung your legs off of the bed. you drowsily staggered to your window and forced it shut, drawing the curtains closed only seconds afterward. you would just have to hope the mishap wouldn’t make you any sicker than you already were. you mindlessly carried yourself back to your bed and submerged yourself under the covers. you grabbed your phone, which was lying face down beside you.

you unlocked your phone and went straight to instagram, tapping through everyone's stories. most of the people you knew were at the party. parties weren't your cup of tea, so you couldn't really say you wished you had gone. you were more of a homebody than you'd like to admit.

you eventually got to miles' story. all he had posted was a single picture of him and his group of friends, and they all seemed to be enjoying themselves. seeing your boyfriend happy made you happy. you smiled to yourself before switching to your messages app. you had notifications from both miles and your friends who were also at the halloween party. you opened miles’ messages first.

9:37pm

miles: hey ma (9:37 pm) miles: i know you’re probably sleeping right now, but i wanted to lyk that i got here okay (9:37 pm) miles: i’m with my friends (9:38 pm) miles: ima go now but i love you 💗 i’ll text you soon (9:39 pm)

10:23 pm

miles: yooo just checking in 🙌 miss you a lot (9:36 pm) miles: hope you’re enjoying that nap ❤️❤️(9:37 pm)

you: hey i’m up now 😈😈 (10:52 pm) you: i saw your ig story 🙃 looks like you guys are having fun so i’ll leave you to it (10:52 pm) you: text me later, i love you so much more 💓 (10:53 pm)

you swiped out of your text thread with miles and opened your group chat with your three best friends, sasha, lani, and nae. while you met sasha and lani not too long ago, you’ve known nae for damn near your entire life.

dollz 💘 9:13pm

sasha: how’s my bedridden baby? 🫶🫶 (9:13 pm)

lani: she’s been unconscious for mad long 👎(9:14 pm)

nae: we should ditch this party n go to her place instead i’m BOREDDD (9:16 pm) nae: and what if bro’s dead (9:16 pm)

jana: girl (9:20 pm) jana: she ain’t dead 🤦‍♀️ please. (9:21 pm)

sasha: ofc not (9:23 pm) sasha: nae's right.. this party lowk boring asf🧍‍♀️ can we leave soon? (9:25 pm)

jana: yes 💋 (9:25 pm)

nae: thought you’d never ask. (9:26 pm)

10:57pm

you: y’all i’m up damn! 😭 (10:57 pm) you: is it really that boring? miles seems to be having fun (10:57 pm)

nae: he buggin then cuz it's been like two hours and this party is STILL boring as shit (11:01 pm) nae: i tried to give it the benefit of the doubt but nvm. (11:01 pm) nae: my niece's fourth birthday party was x100 more turnt than this (11:02 pm) nae: i’m stuffing all the good snacks in my purse nd then we outta this bitch 🏃‍♀️ i’ll be in the car y’all (11:02 pm)

jana: bruh🧍‍♀️ (11:03 pm)

sasha: nae beloved, you already put hella snacks in the passenger seat (11:03 pm) nae: so? 🥱 (11:04 pm) sasha: you don’t need no more tf 😭😭 big backed hungry ass (11:04 pm)

you: yes she does (11:10 pm) you: she’s thinking of me, duh (11:11 pm)

sasha: damn you right.. maybe 🤷‍♀️ (11:15 pm) sasha: or maybe she'll eat up all the snacks and i'll laugh in your face and say i told you so 🤌 (11:16 pm)

jana: uh huh... anw girl can we come over? (11:18 pm)

you: i’d say yes but miles is coming over soon (11:21 pm) you: y’all can come over first thing tmrw morning tho 💋💋(11:21 pm)

right as you sent that message, your phone began to ring and you were met with your own puzzled reflection on the screen of your phone. it was a facetime call from nae. you couldn’t come up with a reason why she’d ever need to facetime you from a party when she could text or call. nevertheless, you picked up. you forced yourself up and out of you warmth of your bed, throwing your comforter and many, many blankets off of you.

you answered the facetime call as you turned the knob to your bedroom door to leave, making your way downstairs to the kitchen so you could raid the pantry for food. when nae’s face popped up on your screen, you noticed that the interior of sasha’s car surrounded her, but neither sasha or lani were anywhere to be found.

“hey danae, what’s up?” you said into the phone as you shut the microwave. you'd settled on instant ramen since you were feeling lazy. when you caught a glimpse of your best friend's face on your phone screen a second time, you clocked that she looked worried and that made you worried too. it didn't help that she was dead silent. you raised an eyebrow. “you alone? where’s lani and sasha?"

“something happened,” nae spoke slowly, disregarding your question. her eyes were bolting back and forth between her phone camera and sasha’s car window.

“what?” you shook your head, your eyebrows furrowing in concern. you set your phone down on the counter, propping your elbows onto the surface while you tried to decipher nae's expression, but that got you nowhere.

“i’m gonna send you something. just hold on a sec.”

“nae, what’s going on?” you inquired, a puzzled expression painting your face.

she didn’t reply. you pressed your lips into a thin line and closed your eyes in both confusion and frustration, strings of air passing through your nostrils. whatever nae was about to tell you was obviously nothing good. you didn't anticipate anything but the absolute worst. you opened your eyes again when your phone dinged. it was photo attachment from nae. you furrowed your brows blinked a few times before tapping it, pulling up you and your best friend's text thread. your entire body went limp when your brain registered the monstrosity on your screen. all you could do in the moment was stare in shock. it was a clear shot of miles and arielle at the party making out in some random bedroom upstairs. arielle who wouldn’t quit making moves on miles. miles who would shut down her pathetic attempts every time. arielle who’s always hated your guts without reason. miles who swore on everything that you were the only one he loved. 

it was all so ironic, truly. arielle was dressed as an angel, a sparkly halo hovering above her head as if she wasn’t concomitantly sinning—shamelessly home-wrecking. and you could see it now: the embodiment of your relationship, or the so-called home you and your boyfriend shared. in your mind, it was ablaze and you were curled up all alone inside of it. you were left to succumb to the searing flames, burning to nothing ash while all that you and miles share burned beside you. 

the boy would come home to the walls still burning and in the process of self-purging. he wouldn’t find you, rather the remnants of what used to be you. the ash would slip through his dirty, unfaithful fingers as they trembled in horror. he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. he’d desperately try to grasp you. he’d try to save you and scoop debris into his sweaty palms so he could salvage what was left of you. still, there was nothing. there wasn't a single thing in the universe that could aid the way you felt in that moment.

now, miles would have to mourn you, for he killed you. and he didn’t even know it yet.

your eyes were squeezed shut because they had to be deceiving you. you must not be fully awake yet. the medicine must be making you hallucinate. you were dreaming. you were a hundred percent dreaming. that wasn’t miles. 

how could that be miles?

“i was looking for lani and found… them instead,” nae muttered. “i don’t know if he saw me take the picture, or what. i left to tell you right after.”

you swallowed hard. though a million different thoughts were racing through your mind, none of them came to be verbal. you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything, because what do you even say when something like this happens? would anything you said be enough? would any quantity of words in any given order be able you place the way you felt? unlikely. highly.

your eyes continue you gape at the photo, even though the sight was making your stomach churn. you couldn’t look away. your eyes were fixed on miles' hands on arielle's hips, then her hands cupping his cheeks. nae was still on facetime explaining whatever it was she was explaining, but you weren’t listening. her words were static to your ears. there was a pit in your stomach and it was growing deeper and deeper, your wounded heart subsiding along with it. you set your phone face down on the kitchen counter and began to clutch your stomach. you swore you were going to convulse and vomit from how ill you felt.

“[name]!” nae snapped her fingers into the mic. “yo, you still with me? i’m coming over. i’m gonna call an uber right now.”

you blinked and shook your head, flipping your phone back over and taking a deep breath. you couldn’t just shut down, not now. you had something you needed to confront. someone.

“no,” you sniffled. 

you didn’t even notice the hot tears rolling down your cheeks. you quickly swiped them away with the sleeve of miles’ hoodie. the realization that it was his hoodie you had on made you freeze up again for a few seconds, and then you buried your face in the palms of your hands.

“what do you mean ‘no?’” nae frowned, bringing the speaker up to her ear in case she heard you incorrectly.

your phone dinged three times. in your notification center were text messages from the devil himself.

miles: hey ma, i’m leaving now (11:25 pm) miles: the party was okay at first but it got boring (11:25 pm) miles: i’ll be there in like fifteen ❤️ (11:26 pm)

you just stared at the messages, biting your bottom lip until it began to draw blood as a plea for you to stop. the taste was metallic in your mouth, but your teeth didn’t budge. you didn't want miles over anymore, but it was far too late to tell him to turn around. it's not like he'd check his phone while he was driving, anyway.

“i keep losing you, girl."

you had forgotten all about nae for a second, her voice grounding you back to earth. you exhaled, your breath coming out unsteady. “miles is on his way over. after i talk to him, i’ll call you and you can come over then.”

“okay, babe,” nae nodded with a gentle sigh. 

“do… lani and sasha know?” “no, they don’t,” nae denied. “i wouldn’t tell them before you.” 

you pressed your lips together and silence engulfed your kitchen. you let your mind wander some more. after all this was over and done with, you'd have to explain to all of your loved ones that miles cheated on you. the very thought of having to tell everyone—your family, your friends, your dad—it embarrassed you. you couldn't stomach the very thought, so you exhaled deeply, opting to take it one step at a time. nae spoke again. “listen, if you don’t call or text me in, like, an hour, ima come over there.”

“okay," you nodded.

“remember that you deserve nothing but the best of the best. i love you so much, okay?”

“i know,” you tried to convene a smile. “i love you more.”

you hung up the phone and rid of any stray tears on your face. after nae's face vanished from your screen, you were left staring at you and your boyfriend's message thread. without putting much thought into it, you began to type.

‘cool, i’m jus—'

your fingers froze. you couldn’t text miles. he didn’t deserve anything so little as acknowledgment. you repeatedly hit backspace until the bar was blank and shut off your cell.

you sat idly on one of the kitchen stools behind the counter, your instant ramen long forgotten about. in the moment, you were feeling indifferent as a result of shock. still, you knew yourself better. when miles finally confessed his sins, you’d want to scream. you’d bombard him with a million questions at once, only to angrily invalidate any explanation that passed through his adulterous lips. you’d want to burn every handwritten love letter, every piece of clothing, and every gift, because they all meant nothing now.

he was a liar, and he knew it. if you could kill a man and face no consequences, miles might’ve been gone before he even walked through your door.

while you waited for him, you sat there and tortured yourself in thought. you couldn’t help it. was this planned? was this the first time? had he always thought of her like this? did he wish you were her when he was with you?

when you’d exhausted all of those questions, you began to think back to your own actions and behavior as you scrolled up on your texts with him. 

maybe i said something that upset him? but i think he would've told me... right..? or have i been distant? no, that’s not possible. we talk every day. is he bored of me? is that it? am i boring? none of these texts are showing signs of boredom, so what is it?

you'd soon resorted to flipping through the pages in your diary. you were really good about documenting your day-to-day life. if something happened with miles in the past that your brain wouldn’t let you dig up in the moment, surely you would’ve written it there. the pad of your index finger slid across the rough pages as your anguished eyes skimmed the entries. ten minutes in, you still couldn’t find a thing. you'd give anything for a straightforward answer, but you knew it wasn't going to come from miles himself.

when you heard a key grinding into the keyhole of the front door, you slammed your diary shut and jumped off of the stool, knocking it over in the process. you sprinted upstairs to your bedroom, shoving the journal under your pillow. as you trailed out of your room, you closed the door behind you and braced yourself for the worst. 

you shuffled back to the kitchen and picked up the stool from the floor, setting it upright. you caught a glimpse of miles unlacing his jordans at the front door. this was real. 

“hey. i thought you’d still be in bed,” miles grinned as he approached you, spreading his arms for a hug. he wasn’t in his costume, but in a red hoodie and black sweats. he must’ve gone home to change. his costume probably smelled like arielle’s designer strawberry-scented perfume, the one everyone compliments her on. she never shuts up about it.

“hi,” you whispered, accepting his hug in an attempt to seem normal. “i was, but i got hungry. how was the party?”

miles smelled like his favorite cologne, except the scent was unusually potent. it wasn't faded in the slightest like it normally was after he'd been out and around other people. the deplorable amount of effort he was making just to mask the truth infuriated you. it angered you even more that he clearly wasn't planning on telling you anything. if you hadn't seen it yourself, you might've never known.

“it was ight,” he shrugged, loosening his grip on you after a couple of seconds. you hated yourself for wanting to hug him for just a little while longer. he sure as hell didn’t deserve it, but for all you knew, that was the last time you’d be in his embrace. he let his hands fall down to your waist instead and it made you shiver on contact knowing he had his hands on arielle's waist not even a full hour ago. “would’ve been better with you there, y’know. you feelin’ okay now?"

“mostly, yeah,” you responded blandly, your throat tight and your voice fairly groggy. “still a bit tired.”

you didn’t know how to bring it up. this wasn't something you could beat around the bush about. you found yourself deep in thought. so deep to the point where you didn't notice that miles had started talking. you were busy staring off into space with half-lidded eyes, way past his gaze. he clocked it and moved his head so that your eyes were boring into his by force, his eyebrows lowering in concern.

“is everything okay?”

you cleared your throat and gently pushed his arms off your waist, stepping back as you began to blink back tears. there was no easing into it. standing there in front of miles pretending like everything was okay was already bad enough. it felt like you were twisting the knife that he plunged into your chest. eyes glossy, you swallowed hard and batted your lashes a few more times, desperately trying to rid of the tears that threatened to spill.

“i know you kissed arielle at the party,” you barely managed to speak the full sentence, your voice cracking when you spoke her name. “and i’m confused.”

miles’ eyebrows knitted to be one as if this news stunned him. you wished you could hear all his thoughts from start to finish after you spoke. you wanted to know whether he was planning to lie or tell the truth. would he gaslight you or admit to his wrongdoings? you wouldn’t find out now because you didn’t give him an option. this already hurt enough and it would end the same either way.

“nae told me. and she sent me pictures.”

silence fell between the two of you. it felt like it was eating you from the inside. the chirping of the crickets outside and the noise from the refrigerator running slightly compensated for it. not much.

“i just wanna know why you did it. and why her? why the girl that hates me with every last atom in her body?” you broke the silence, shrugging your shoulders. you were hugging your arms, rubbing them in an up-and-down motion as if you were cold.

miles was dumbfounded, guilt painting his features. he couldn’t meet your eyes anymore. you wondered what you would say if you were in his shoes, but it didn’t give you any insight because you knew you'd never do this to him, so you gave up. instead, you stared at the neat middle part in between his two signature braids that cascaded down the back of his head, down to his shoulders. you’d braided his hair only a couple days ago, back when nothing seemed impossible—nothing like now. 

though he wasn’t, miles’ hair still looked clean, freshly done even. what if arielle had redone his braids for him? she did say she was practicing, and she'd made it a goal to practice on him. you mentally cursed yourself for worrying about something as minuscule as miles' braids at a time like this. you didn't want to give yourself another reason to freak, but your brain wouldn’t let you rest. not even in silence. if miles wasn’t going to give you an answer, you’d send him on his way and come up with one by yourself.

“i don’t know why i did it,” he finally retorted.

“oh, word?” you laughed humorlessly. you were trying not to slap the hell out of his shamefully beautiful face. “it happened not even two hours ago. you know why you did it. your memory is sharp, it always has been, so tell me.”

miles exhaled, rubbing the palm of his hand on his forehead. “look, she came onto me while i was grabbing a soda. it was a heat-of-the-moment kind of thing! it didn’t mean any—“

“that’s what they all say, morales,” you cut him off with a scoff. “it didn’t mean anything but somehow you traveled from the kitchen downstairs to a spare bedroom upstairs so you could swap spit without anyone catching you?!” miles tried to speak, but you cut him off again. “were you even gonna tell me? because you came up in here acting like shit was sweet as if you weren’t just making out with the girl you swore i’d never have to worry about, meanwhile, i was home, sick! a fucking cold, miles!”

“i wasn’t gonna keep it to myself. i didn’t wanna hurt you,” miles said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “it wasn’t gonna happen again, i swear.”

none of the words miles spoke were convincing enough for you in the slightest, so you disregarded them.

“did i do something to you? are you holding a grudge about something and trying to get me back?!” you yelled, your voice trembling.

“no, it has nothing to do with you!” he hollered back, squeezing his eyes shut as if he was stressed out. he had no right.

“so then why the fuck would you go and do this shit?!” you were silent for a few seconds, chest heaving up and down while your heart beat out of your chest. your breath was sprinting away from you and you were trying to catch it. "it's bad enough that you kissed another girl, but arielle?"

miles pleaded, “it was a mistake.”

“damn right it was!” you narrowed your eyes to slits. “i can’t believe i trusted you, like, seriously. you’re sick.”

“i let you down, princessa, i know, i’m—“

“sorry?” you finished his sentence, folding your arms. you were far more angry than sad now. “miles, you weren’t sorry when you were kissing her. don’t be sorry now either. you were gonna kiss me with her bright pink lipgloss dried on your lips like it was nothing. you were gonna sit here and play me like i'm stupid. you were never gonna tell me!”

miles couldn’t counter that. he knew you were right, so it was back to uncomfortable silence apart from your hefty breathing and sniffles. miles had never seen you so angry. you'd never seen yourself so angry. there was no one else to blame but miles. you had no idea where to go from there. it was only after you asked the question that you were about to ask on impulse that you realized you should’ve wrapped this up many minutes before.

“is this the only time this has happened?”

miles was hesitant, his eyes growing wider. “yes!” he spat.

miles had a tell—not just his disinclination to answer your question the way he normally would, but also the way his eyebrows would position as if he wasn’t so sure himself. his teeth would clench behind his sealed lips, but you could tell because his jaw was tight and he swallowed hard, and he wouldn’t know what to do with his hands. 

you knew all of this about miles, yet you felt like you were gazing into the eyes of a stranger. 

this wasn’t the miles you fell in love with.

you muttered under your breath, “you know what? i’m wasting your time... and my own. you won’t have an answer that’s both truthful and something i wanna hear. we’re done, you and i. give me the key and get the hell out.”

“mami, come on—“

“nigga, deuces! i said leave!” you snapped as you backed away from him, holding your hand out.

miles dug deep in the right pocket of his black sweats, handing you the key. you flinched when your skin made contact with his. you didn't hesitate to trap the key in the palm of your hand, dropping your arm back down by your side. miles sighed to himself and trudged to the door to lace his shoes back up. you didn't even watch him leave, opting to turn around and battle the tears threatening to spill from your eyes instead. when you finally heard the front door shut, you rushed to lock it. you turned around and pressed your back to the door, face twisted in pure disbelief. 

this was real.

you slid down to the floor and pulled your knees to your chest, your cries echoing through your empty house. you’d never been more grateful that your father was gone for the weekend. miles wouldn’t have heard the end of it. at least now you had time to make up some lie to cover for miles' ass, and it'd be the last damn time.

not even five minutes passed before someone knocked on the front door three times and you sniffled. miles was going to drive you insane. “go the fuck away!”

“it’s me, baby,” a muffled voice said from outside, but it’s one you recognize, and it’s most definitely not miles.

you wiped your tears with the sleeve of miles’ hoodie and stood up, twisting the lock to open the door for your best friend. she was holding a box of pizza in her hand with a tote bag strap over her shoulder.

“you’re early,” you mumbled, one of your hands pressed against the rim of the door.

“i ubered home and got my car. when i got here, i just parked and waited,” nae pushed past you. you closed the door and locked it again, following her to the kitchen, where she set the box of pizza down on the countertop. “you wouldn’t have called me either way. i know you.”

she was right. you weren’t mad at her for being there though. she had always been so good to you.

nae walked over to the dining table and placed her tote bag in one of the chairs. “i brought your favorite type of pizza, and i stopped by the store to grab some snacks and soda. those are still in my car though, so—”

“i don’t think i can stomach anything right now,” you stated as you rubbed your arm. “i broke up with miles.”

saying that out loud felt weird. and final.

“oh, my love,” nae’s brows lowered and she shuffled over to you with open arms. she wrapped them around you and you did the same, sighing into her shoulder. you really didn't want to cry.

it hadn’t been long and you were already over feeling the way you did. you wanted to fast forward to the part where you got over miles for good. as an attempt to console you, nae was rubbing your back in a circular motion. 

“you did the right thing,” she spoke lowly.

you withdrew from the hug and slightly opened your mouth, fixing to ask nae a question only god knew how to answer. “why did he do it though?”

she led you to the couch in your living room and sat you down, massaging her thumb over yours in a back-and-forth motion as your hand stayed clasped in hers. you stared down at your lap, sniffling every couple of seconds and swiping away stray tears.

“boys are just greedy, babe,” she shook her head. “so very greedy. they want it all. there are so many different reasons why people cheat. it’s difficult to pinpoint just one. my random guess is that… miles has issues?"

“issues?” 

“mm-hmm,” she hummed. “internally. maybe he's insecure about himself, i don't know. whatever it is, it doesn’t justify infidelity. you were more than enough, it was him who was lacking."

“i don't get it. i mean, none of this makes any sense… unless i'm blind or stupid, it came out of nowhere. literal thin air. and when i asked, he said he didn't know why he kissed her,” you muttered.

nae sighed. “even if he isn't lying, he still did it.”

“i know,” you nodded. “and i'm sure it wasn't the first time. that’s why i left him.”

“and i’m so proud of you for that,” nae gave your hand a tight squeeze. “walking away isn’t easy for anyone. it takes forever for some people, but you did it just like that.” 

“yeah, well, i kinda had to. it’s bad enough that arielle is gonna rub it in my face until we graduate, and even after that, she’ll probably find a way to .”

“there won’t be any of that,” nae promised. “miles isn’t going to take her seriously—if he even takes her at all. he lost you because of what he did with that bitch. he won’t even be able to look at her without feeling guilty.”

“she can have him, i don’t care either way,” you scoffed. that was a lie. you did care. you cared more than you’d let on if you ever even admit it.

“yeah, you do,” nae raised an eyebrow as if she had effortlessly read your mind. “let yourself feel. it’s how you’ll heal.”

“oh, i’m feeling alright. i’m weighing the pros and cons of murder,” you shakily exhaled, balling up your fists and closing your eyes. “i can’t believe this nigga. seriously.” 

“i’d help you, but i’m not going to jail for him and neither are you.”

you let out a soft sigh, your gaze now fixed on your lap. the tears welling up in your eyes were beginning to cloud your vision. how someone could throw away so many years of loving one another so easily was so far beyond you.

“nae, i’ve been with miles for so long. he’s always been there—i don’t know how to be without him. he’s why i gave love a chance after swearing not to... now he’s shattered my perception of it. the worst part is i should hate him, but i don't. somehow, i still love him and—”

“hey,” nae cut you off. “that’s normal. how you feel is normal.”

you sniffled. “is it?"

“pshh, girl, yeah,” nae assured you, flicking out her wrist. “listen, breakups are terrible. you’re gonna cry and scream. you’re gonna wish you never met him. you’re going to go through old texts, swipe through old photos, and mope in his hoodies. all of that is okay. the worst thing you could ever do to yourself is force yourself not to feel,” nae paused. “if this is who he really is, then it's not your loss. i know it doesn't feel like that right now, but trust me... it just takes time. i don't know how long, but i know my best friend, so no matter how long it takes, you’ll be better than good without miles. i promise." "i'm still gonna miss him," you muttered, sniffling and drying your tears as they fell. nae wrapped her arm around you and exhaled. you sobbed into her shoulder, releasing all the pent-up frustration you'd been concealing in the name of keeping your cool. you'd never felt so inconsolable in your life. "i know, babe. i know."

❤︎₊ ⊹

it was late. 3:28am. time had never moved so slowly. you were genuinely considering calling 911 and telling them you were suffering from a heart attack. you were thoroughly convinced that this was damn near the same exact thing.

the moon wasn’t full tonight, but a waning crescent. it reflected you and how soulless and dejected you felt. the moonshine bleeding through your curtains was also the only source of light you would tolerate, the rest of your bedroom completely dark. you lay on your side facing the window, allowing the icy gusts of wind to hit your face. you were practically drowning in a sea of blankets all while still being in miles’ black hoodie.

nae was gone. she’d left about two hours ago, but not before suffocating you in countless hugs and forcing you to eat a slice of pizza and drink two glasses of water, despite your not wanting to ingest anything due to your unwavering nausea. you told her you’d be okay alone. you knew you wouldn’t and so did she, but you wanted to be alone, so she gave you your space and promised to check in on you when the sun rose. you loved nae dearly and you'd never take her for granted. you felt lucky to have such a kindhearted best friend.

you'd been in a 1v1 with your thoughts for a while now. your phone was powered off and shut away in one of your nightstand drawers to help resist urges. you hated that you wanted to call miles, but you did. you wanted to scream at him. belittle him until you just couldn’t anymore. and you wanted him to sit there and watch you do it without protest. you wanted him to be honest and tell you the truth. you wanted him to promise it would never happen again, and then you wanted to curl up under the covers of your bed with him and sob in his arms while he planted kisses on your forehead, apologizing profusely. you wanted him to tell you he loved you until you believed it again.

you couldn’t do any of that—you wouldn’t. it’d mean you have no respect for yourself. it felt like you hardly had any now, so you needed to keep the scarce amount that remained.

your thoughts were blank and sporadic all at once. you’d never been through a breakup, but you had a rough idea of how these things go, so you spent some time mapping it out in your head.

you'd eventually have to meet up to exchange one another's belongings. maybe rio would apologize on miles’ behalf and say she’d always love you. she’d call you a couple times a week. the calls would eventually come slower and grow more infrequent. soon, the calls wouldn’t come at all. even if there was the acknowledgment that rio’s arms were always open for you, they’d still feel closed. you'd treat them as such.

you'd barely eat because you couldn't stomach a single thing. you'd rot in your bed and binge all your favorite movies and shows. you'd go to war with the urge to run back to miles. you'd read old diary entries where you were gushing about how much you loved him and how amazing he was to you. you'd look back at old photos and videos. you'd reread old texts until you were sobbing so hard that you couldn't breathe.

you'd write letters that nobody was ever going to see and all the tears you shed would smudge the black ink and ruin your fancy penmanship. you'd lie to your dad and tell him that your relationship had just run its course and that you and miles needed to work on yourselves. your friends would check in on you, and of course, you'd tell them that you were okay every time, even if that was the furthest from that.

word gets around fast. when this dreadful weekend was over and monday crept up on you, you'd have to return to school and deal with the piercing stares and shameless gossip. you weren't ready for any of it, because now, everyone at school would know you as the girl who got cheated on by her long-term boyfriend for arielle. rumors would spread. words would be twisted and lies would be told, both about you and miles. in retrospect, it was all the more embarrassing for miles, but you still felt utterly humiliated. not to mention that you had no doubt in your mind that arielle was ready to run to his defense, preferably by kicking you when you're down.

sometimes, just for a fleeting moment, you'd forget about it all and your mind would go quiet. your heart wouldn't swell in longing and you wouldn't feel sick to your stomach. it never did last long before the same thoughts you desperately wanted to leave you alone started to pester you again. "but you two seemed so in love!" nosy girls at your school masking their prying motives behind what they thought were "supportive words" would soon tell you. the worst part is that you'd never know how to respond, because you thought you and miles were in love too. he was your sun and you were his moon. how could you so quickly forget that the sun didn't need the moon to shine, it was the other way around? you thought it was and always would be your heart tethered to his, but now you were left with a broken chain and a heartache.

you thought things would be different with miles. you truly did. now you knew that anyone could screw you over even if they crossed their heart. there weren't any exceptions, not anymore. miles proved that you can do everything right and still get done wrong. it wasn't fair. you should've known you weren't exempt from something like this happening, yet you still let yourself believe you were. maybe you jinxed it, or maybe you thought your case was special. maybe you thought this would never happen because you believed you were special. you only did because he made you feel that way.

you were sick and tired of brooding over your misfortune. you rolled onto your back with a frustrated groan and gaped at your ceiling, the cold air from outside still blowing against the side of your face. as exhausted as you were, sleep just wouldn't grant you sanction in its assuaging embrace.

what hurt the most is that you were so sure that you'd bagged a kind of love that was for the books. the kind of love you thought you could only dream about. though you weren't searching for him, the stars sent you miles morales. in your eyes, he was perfect. you loved and adored him, and swore he was your soulmate, made just for you. he was godsent and you never wanted to let him go, until tonight, when you learned that you were never the one who needed to hold on to begin with.

you came to the humbling conclusion that maybe the reason people told tales of faultless love was because real love was far too sickening to bear. it was merely a way to cope. nothing more, nothing less. maybe "happily ever after" had been a hoax all along. all the fairytales you had read growing up always began with “once upon a time”, but your story with miles ended with it, because loving him was easy—once upon a time.

maliland ©

[dee-writes-angst]

SUMMER (Chapter Four)

FEATURING Azriel x Illyrian!reader

SUMMARY healing is a long journey that can't be summed up in just four simple seasons, but it seems with the help of a certain shadowsinger at your side, you've seemed to do it.

CONTENT WARNINGS mentions of nightmares, apologies, scared reader, comforting Azriel, Cassian POV, and mentions of wingspans ;)

AUTHORS NOTE the finale you've all been waiting for is finally here as promised! Thank you all so much for your support during this series, I am excited to be back and writing for you all again! Love you all and I hope you enjoy! <3

Summer arrives like a promise fulfilled, a canvas awash with vibrant hues of green and gold, as if nature herself has donned her finest attire. The air hums with the gentle whisper of transformation, carrying the scent of freshly cut grass and the promise of new beginnings on its warm breeze.

As the sun stretches its golden fingers across the land, casting long shadows that dance in its radiant glow, there's a palpable sense of rejuvenation in the air. It's as if each dawn heralds a new chapter, a chance to shed the burdens of the past and embrace the endless possibilities of the present.

In this season of abundance, life bursts forth with an exuberance that is both intoxicating and invigorating. The world awakens from its slumber, blossoming with a riot of colors as flowers unfurl their petals in joyful defiance of the lingering chill of winter. Leaves rustle in the gentle caress of the wind, their verdant whispers carrying tales of resilience and growth.

Amidst this symphony of nature's symphony, there is a sense of newfound strength coursing through every living thing. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, the warmth of the sun infuses each day with a sense of possibility, igniting a fire within the soul that refuses to be extinguished.

In the heart of summer, time seems to slow, allowing moments to linger like the last rays of sunlight on a balmy evening. It's a season of exploration and adventure, where every day holds the promise of discovery and every sunset marks the end of one chapter and the beginning of another.

And as the days stretch languidly into twilight, there is a quiet resilience that takes root, a deep-seated belief in the power of new beginnings and the strength that comes from embracing change. For in the heart of summer, beneath the sweltering heat and the endless blue skies, lies the untold promise of tomorrow, waiting to be seized with both hands and forged into something beautiful.

(Mid Summer, Velaris)

The afternoon sun poured into the training ring, casting long shadows of the figures sparring lightly within it. Cassian was across from me, a patient yet mischievous grin on his face, as he handed me a training sword. “Ready to get your ass kicked, or are you going to make me work for it today?”

I smirked, feeling the flutter of my old spirit stirring within. “Dream on, Cassian.”

The clash of our swords sang through the air, a melody of metal that resonated with the pounding of my heart. Each strike, each parry, felt like shedding layers of fear that had cocooned me since losing my wings.

“Focus,” Cassian said, his voice a mix of sternness and encouragement. “Remember, it’s not just about strength. It’s about knowing your opponent.”

I nodded, gripping my own wooden sword a little tighter. As I lunged forward, Cassian parried easily, countering with a swift movement that I barely blocked in time. We moved in a rhythm, the clack of our swords punctuating each maneuver. My muscles remembered the dance, even if they ached from disuse. Cassian’s style was a flurry of motion, designed to overwhelm, but today he tempered his usual ferocity, giving me room to find my footing again. The physical exertion was grounding, pulling me further away from my mental ghosts.

Laughter and shouts from Mor, watching from the sidelines, filled the arena, her cheers a buoyant soundtrack to our dance of blades and as we paused for a break, Mor jogged over with a waterskin and a smirk. She threw an arm around my shoulders, squeezing tightly. “Look at you! You’re almost back to your old self,” she beamed, her pride evident.

The warmth from her compliment soaked through me, loosening some of the tightness still lingering in my chest. “Feels good to move like that again,” I admitted, allowing the truth of my words to wash over me. It did feel good—like claiming back pieces of my soul, piece by piece.

“You two look like you’re having fun,” she smiled, squeezing me close again as she handed me the waterskin. After I took a long drink, she shot me a sly glance. “Speaking of fun, have you noticed how Azriel can't seem to stay away from your side?”

Mor’s eyebrows wiggled as I coughed on the water, wiping my mouth as I tried to compose myself. “He’s just being supportive,” I muttered, feeling my cheeks heat up.

Cassian chuckled, leaning on his sword. “Oh, he’s being supportive, all right. Haven’t seen him this glued to someone since… well, ever.”

I rolled my eyes, but the seed of awareness began to sprout in my mind. Azriel had indeed been a constant presence, his quiet strength a comfort I hadn’t realized I’d leaned on so much.

“Do you think it might be a mating bond?” Mor asked casually, too casually, as she inspected her nails.

The question halted me, the weight of the implication settling in my stomach like a stone. The mating bond was sacred, profound—was I ready for something like that? The very thought made my heart race, not just with fear but with a blossoming hope I hadn’t acknowledged until now.

“Maybe he’s just being a good friend,” I countered, but my voice lacked conviction.

Cassian raised an eyebrow, giving me a knowing look. “When you know, you know,” he said simply. “And it looks like you’re starting to realize something there.”

We resumed training, but his words echoed in my mind with each strike and block. Azriel’s face appeared in my thoughts, his smiles, the gentle touch of his hands, the way his eyes lit up when he looked at me lately. My feelings for him, which I had shelved as mere gratitude or the simple need for companionship during recovery, seemed to be deepening into something richer, more profound.

As we finished and walked back towards the House of Wind, Mor looped her arm through mine. “You don’t have to figure it all out at once,” she whispered. “But don’t close your heart to the possibility of something beautiful. Azriel cares for you deeply, more than just as a friend or protector.”

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow that bathed the world in a soft, forgiving light. It felt symbolic, reflective of my own internal dawn. Maybe, just maybe, I was ready to consider that what lay between Azriel and me could be the kind of love that songs and tales were spun from. As fear and doubt receded, leaving room for this new, tender hope, I realized that my journey of healing was also leading me down a path of rediscovering my capacity to love—not just Azriel, but myself and this new life I was slowly, bravely building.

(Mid Summer, The River House)

That evening, the dinner with the Inner Circle was held at the sprawling, candlelit table in the River House. The atmosphere was thick with laughter and the clinking of glasses, a symphony of friendship and familial bonds. The windows were thrown open, allowing the crisp, cool air of Velaris to sweep through the room, mixing with the scent of jasmine and roasted meats.

As I entered the dining room, a subtle change in my demeanor didn’t go unnoticed by the group. Rhysand was the first to catch my eye, giving me a nod of approval and a warm, welcoming smile. Amren, ever observant, watched me with her piercing gaze, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her lips, acknowledging the shift in my spirits.

Azriel, standing slightly apart, offered me a soft, encouraging smile as I took my place next to him. His quiet strength bolstered my newfound resolve to engage more fully with those around me.

Dinner began with a lively discussion led by Feyre about a recent exhibition at the art gallery in the city. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she described the vibrant colors and revolutionary techniques of the new artists showcased. I listened, chiming in with my thoughts on the integration of night and day themes, which earned an approving laugh from Rhys.

As the meal continued, Cassian, true to form, began recounting one of his training escapades, embellishing the details to make his tale more dramatic. “And then, just as I was about to execute my perfectly planned maneuver, an Illyrian baby sneezed on me. Totally threw off my game!”

Laughter erupted around the table, and I found myself genuinely chuckling, the sound surprising even to me. “Only you, Cassian, could be outmaneuvered by a baby’s sneeze,” I teased, earning a round of applause and a mock bow from Cassian.

“See, she’s got jokes now! Our girl’s coming back to us,” Mor exclaimed, her face alight with joy. She reached over to squeeze my hand, her gesture warm and reassuring.

As plates were cleared and desserts were served, the conversation shifted to lighter, more personal stories. Feyre shared anecdotes about her latest painting misadventures, while Mor detailed her plans for the upcoming festival in the city. Each story, each shared laugh, felt like a stitch mending the frayed edges of my soul.

As the dinner party began to wind down in the warm, laughter-filled hall, a soft coo from the corner caught my attention. Nyx, cradled gently in Feyre’s arms, was awake and curiously peeking over her shoulder with wide, starry eyes. I felt my heart tug softly. It had been too long since I had held him, too long since I’d allowed myself to be part of these simpler, beautiful family moments.

Feyre caught my gaze and smiled, understanding immediately. “Someone wants to say hello,” she said softly, walking over with Nyx. His small hand reached out, and I couldn’t help but smile as his fingers grasped at the air between us.

“May I?” I asked, my voice a whisper of excitement mixed with a hint of uncertainty.

“Of course,” Feyre replied, carefully transferring Nyx into my arms. The baby settled against me with ease, a soft sigh escaping him as if he found comfort in my embrace. His tiny hand reached up, touching my cheek gently, an innocent gesture that felt like a reassurance of missed affection. It was as if he was saying he remembered me, that he too had felt the absence of our connection.

The moment wasn’t lost on Azriel, who watched from a short distance. His shadows flickered subtly around him, a telltale sign of his emotions stirring beneath that calm exterior. Since the conversation with Cassian and Mor earlier today, every glance, every small interaction with him seemed charged with a new, silent tension. My newly admitted feelings for him amplified each shared look, adding weight to the air between us.

As I rocked Nyx gently, my thoughts drifted to Azriel again. His presence at my side had become a constant, his support unwavering. The depth of my affection for him had crept up silently, weaving itself into the fabric of my daily life until it was indistinguishable from my other truths. I found myself stealing glances at him, each look a quiet confession of the feelings I was only beginning to allow myself to acknowledge.

Azriel eventually made his way over, his gaze softening as he looked at Nyx in my arms. “He’s missed you,” Azriel murmured, his voice barely audible over the low hum of conversation around us.

I met his eyes, feeling a flush of warmth at the intimacy of the moment. “I’ve missed him, too. Missed all of this,” I admitted, my voice thick with emotion. The way Azriel looked at me then, with such warmth and depth, made my heart skip a beat.

“Looks good on you,” he said after a pause, nodding towards Nyx.

The comment, simple and offhand, thrummed with unspoken meanings. It was a nudge against the boundaries we had maintained, a gentle probing into the new spaces of my heart that had begun to open to him.

As I handed Nyx back to Feyre, I caught Azriel’s arm gently. “Stay for a moment?” I asked, my voice hopeful, laden with the weight of all the things I hadn’t yet said.

He nodded, his usual reserve melting away for a moment as he stayed by my side, his presence a silent promise of things perhaps soon to be explored. We both knew something unspoken was shifting between us, and while neither of us was ready to dive into those waters just yet, acknowledging it—even in silence—felt like the first step toward a new horizon.

(Mid Summer, The House of Wind)

The following week, Feyre, Mor, Nesta, and I revived our "book club"—a ruse for nights filled with wine, wild discussions about our latest reads, and shared secrets under the cloak of night. As I sat curled up on a plush couch, a glass of wine in hand, surrounded by these incredible women, a profound sense of belonging enveloped me. Here, in these moments, I was safe to just be; to heal, to laugh, to grow.

The cozy nook tucked away in the House of Wind had become our sanctuary, a place where the Inner Circle’s book club convened to discuss literature, life, and everything in between. Tonight, as the flickering candlelight cast soft shadows across the room, I settled into my usual spot among the plush cushions, surrounded by my closest friends.

Feyre, Nesta, and Mor lounged around me, each with a book in hand, their faces alight with anticipation for our weekly gathering. The atmosphere was charged with excitement, the air buzzing with the promise of lively conversation and shared insights.

“So, what’s everyone reading this week?” Mor asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she glanced around the circle.

Feyre held up a worn copy of her latest find, a tale of forbidden love and political intrigue. “I’m revisiting an old favorite,” she said with a smile. “It’s like catching up with an old friend.”

Nesta, with a smirk playing on her lips, produced a rather scandalous-looking novel with a provocative cover. “I’m exploring the more… sensual side of literature,” she declared, her voice dripping with amusement.

As the conversation flowed around me, I couldn’t help but chuckle at Nesta’s choice. Leave it to her to bring a little spice to our book club discussions. I was hesitant to share tonight, scared to share my feelings so blatantly, to say them out loud in a space with women who would not so soon let me forget. Tonight felt different, though, I felt stronger, able to seize this chance to share with my friends the tumultuous emotions swirling inside me.

“I’ve been reading this collection of poetry,” I began, my voice tentative at first. “It’s funny how words can capture the complexity of human emotions so beautifully.”

Mor’s eyes gleamed with interest, her grin widening. “Ah, poetry—the language of the heart,” she said, her tone teasing yet tender. “Any particular poem speaking to you?”

I hesitated, my gaze flickering to the empty spot where Azriel usually sat. His absence was keenly felt, a reminder of the unresolved tension between us. “There’s one poem that resonates with me,” I admitted, my voice growing stronger with each word. “It’s about…” I faltered, the weight of my confession heavy on my tongue.

Feyre leaned forward, her eyes warm with understanding. “About love?” she prompted gently, her hand reaching out to squeeze mine in silent support.

I nodded, the words spilling forth in a rush. “About love, and fear, and the courage to open your heart to someone—even when it scares you.”

Nesta regarded me with a thoughtful expression, her gaze piercing yet compassionate. “Love is a battlefield,” she said, her voice soft yet firm. “But sometimes, the greatest victories come from facing our fears head-on.”

Mor chimed in with her trademark humor, lightening the mood with a well-timed joke. “Who knew our stoic Shadowsinger had a soft spot for you?”

Feyre smiled knowingly, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Maybe it’s time to confront the shadows and see what lies beneath.”

Nesta couldn’t resist adding her own brand of wit to the conversation. “Speaking of shadows,” she said with a sly grin, “has anyone else noticed Azriel’s wingspan lately?”

We all laughed at Nesta’s comment, the tension in the room dissipating as we embraced the camaraderie of our little gathering. Despite the challenges we faced, tonight was a reminder that with the support of friends, even the darkest shadows could be chased away.

As the evening wore on, our conversation drifted from books to more personal topics, each of us sharing snippets of our lives and experiences. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, a chance to peel back the layers and reveal the raw truths hidden beneath.

Nesta, ever the enigma, shared tales of her latest adventures in the human lands, her sharp wit and cunning intellect shining through with every word.

Mor, always the life of the party, regaled us with stories of her escapades in the Court of Nightmares, her laughter contagious as she recounted her misadventures.

And Feyre, with her quiet strength and unwavering compassion, offered words of wisdom and encouragement, her presence a soothing balm to our troubled souls.

As for me, I found solace in their company, the weight of my burdens eased by the warmth of their friendship. In their laughter and shared moments, I found the courage to confront my fears and embrace the possibility of a brighter future.

And as the candles burned low and the night grew late, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, I would face them with the unwavering support of my sisters by my side.

The support of the entire Inner Circle was a force as tangible as the magic that coursed through our veins—a constant, steadfast presence that fortified me against the darker moments. Their belief in me, their unyielding backing, gave me strength, and little by little, I began to feel not just the shadow of the person I once was, but someone stronger, resilient, reborn from adversity.

In these gatherings, these moments of shared vulnerability and joy, I was not just healing. I was transforming—emerging not how I was before the kidnapping, but perhaps even brighter, tempered by trials and warmed by the unwavering light of the family I chose and who had chosen me in return.

(Late Summer, The House of Wind)

The night pressed heavily around the room, its silence a thick, oppressive blanket punctuated only by the soft, rhythmic breathing of Azriel beside me. In the comfort of his proximity, sleep had finally granted me a temporary reprieve from the relentless torment of my nightmares. Yet, the peace was fragile, vulnerable to the slightest disturbance—a reality proven as a sharp, inexplicable chill sliced through the room's stagnant warmth.

The temperature plummeted, wrapping its icy fingers around my spine, jolting me awake. My eyes flicked open, instantly scanning the familiar contours of the room bathed in the ethereal glow of moonlight. Shadows clung to the walls like dark, silent sentinels until one stirred coalescing into a form far too human, far too familiar.

Lyris emerged from the darkness as though materializing from my deepest fears, his presence a tangible echo of past horrors. His eyes, sharp and merciless, locked onto mine with the precision of a hunter sighting its prey. The sheer malevolence in his gaze sent a visceral shudder through me, yet it was no longer solely fear that stirred within my veins. Anger, raw and blazing, kindled within, fueling a burgeoning defiance I hadn't known I possessed.

"Thinking you could escape me?" Lyris's voice was a venomous hiss, his form inching closer with predatory grace. His smirk was twisted, a grotesque mask of sadistic anticipation.

But then, with the seamless reflexes honed by centuries of battle, Azriel was between us. His body moved with lethal precision, his hand snapping out to seize Lyris by the wrist, halting his advance with unyielding strength. "She's under my protection," Azriel snarled, his voice a dangerous, low rumble. His other hand flicked to his side, the sound of steel sliding from leather slicing through the tension as he brandished a dagger, its blade catching the moon's silver light.

Lyris recoiled slightly, his eyes darting to the blade then back to Azriel’s unwavering stare. "You think you can keep her from her fate?" he spat, struggling against Azriel's iron grip.

“Her fate is her own, and you have no part in it,” Azriel retorted, his wings unfurling menacingly. The air around us thickened with dark, swirling shadows, responding to the raw power emanating from him. In that moment, he was not just my protector but an avenging angel cloaked in night's embrace.

The room filled with a heavy, expectant silence, thick with the weight of unspoken threats. Breaking the tension, I found my voice, though it trembled with the force of my emotions. "Where are my wings, Lyris?" The question tore from me, a desperate plea tangled with a demand.

"Your wings?" he mused mockingly, his eyes glinting with cruelty. "Such a precious prize… Let's just say they're kept in a place where they await their true destiny—far from your reach.”

"Give them back," Azriel demanded, his tone lethal, a stark contrast to the deceptive calm of his posture.

Lyris's laugh was cold and chilling, like the howl of the wind outside. "You overestimate your power here, shadow singer. I could take her now, and you wouldn't be able to stop me."

Azriel's response was swift and deadly serious. "Try it, and it will be the last thing you do." His wings unfurled dramatically as he snatched Lyris’ wrist in a powerful grip, the span of dark membrane filling the room with a sense of otherworldly power. The shadows around him deepened, swirling in response to his anger and the protective fury that laced every syllable.

The standoff stretched, a moment suspended in time where every breath, every heartbeat was laden with potential violence. Then, with a jerk, Lyris wrenched free, stepping back into the protective shroud of darkness. “She will never be free from me," he hissed, his presence oppressive, suffocating. "And neither will you."

Then, as suddenly as he had appeared, he dissolved into shadows, leaving a cold void in his wake. His final words echoed ominously, a malevolent promise hanging in the air. As the immediate threat vanished, Azriel’s demeanor shifted, the lethal warrior receding to reveal his concern. He turned to me, his intense gaze softening. “Are you alright?” His voice was now a gentle whisper, a stark contrast to the deadly thunder from moments before.

I collapsed back against the pillows, my body trembling uncontrollably. The fear wasn't just about the physical presence of Lyris—it was the emotional and psychological terror, the deep scars he had left on my soul, that overwhelmed me.

Azriel sat beside me, enveloping me in his arms, his presence a solid, reassuring force against the lingering echoes of dread. "I'm here. You're safe," he murmured against my hair, his voice a soothing balm.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, sobs wracking my body as the terror slowly ebbed away, replaced by immense fatigue. "We have to get them back, Azriel. I need to feel whole again."

His embrace tightened, a silent promise of unyielding support. "We will," he assured me quietly. "No matter what it takes, we will bring them back.” He took a deep breath, his arms tightening around me as if he were scared that I might run from him. “Always, I will protect you. From him, from anyone who dares to threaten you,” he murmured into my hair, his breath warm against my scalp. His wings, now gently wrapped around us, formed a cocoon that felt impenetrable.

Settling back against him, I allowed the warmth of his embrace to seep deeper into my bones, expelling the lingering chill of Lyris's visit. His presence was a bastion, within which I found not only protection but a profound sense of belonging.

As we lay back down, the room once again shrouded in the soothing silence of night, a new resolve fortified my spirit. Lyris had found me, yes, but he had not found me alone, nor would he ever. Azriel’s vow to protect me was more than a promise—it was a declaration, a sentinel set against the darkness, both within and without. As sleep beckoned once more, the shadows no longer seemed an ominous threat lurking in the corners but allies, guardians cloaked in the same darkness that wrapped around us, a shield against all that would do harm.

(Late Summer, Cassian)

The morning after Lyris's intrusion, the House of Wind seemed to hold its breath, an unspoken tension palpable in the air. Everyone had shared their worries for her, our friend who had clawed her way back from that bastard's torment. We all worried, we all loved her so greatly, enjoyed the way her presence warmed Azriel’s cold exterior and to see her fall back into that dark place she had fought her way out of, to take Azriel unknowingly with her again, it poured a dark sense of grief over the house.

But amidst the uncertainty, the deep seeded fear of losing our friend once more, there was a glimmer of light, a beacon of hope cutting through the darkness. Entering the kitchen, I was met with a scene that caught me off guard—our friend, her laughter ringing out like a bell as she shared a moment of levity with Azriel. It was a rare sight, one that stirred a mixture of surprise and quiet satisfaction within me.

Azriel, usually cloaked in shadows both literal and metaphorical, had a small, genuine smile playing at the corners of his lips. His usually guarded demeanor seemed to soften in her presence, and I couldn't help but notice the subtle shift in the air between them.

Their interaction spoke volumes, a silent language of understanding and companionship that transcended words. Despite the trials they had faced, there was a sense of comfort and familiarity in their shared laughter, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there was still light to be found in the company of those we held dear.

As I joined them in the kitchen, a silent witness to their shared moment of joy, I couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for the bond that had formed between them. Their friendship had weathered storms that would have broken lesser souls, and yet here they were, laughing together as if the weight of the world had been lifted from their shoulders.

And as I observed them, surrounded by the warmth of their laughter and the comfort of their companionship, I couldn't help but feel a surge of hope for the future. For in the bond between her and Azriel, I saw strength, resilience, and the promise of brighter days ahead.

(Late Summer, The House of Wind)

The day had been long and daunting, with every passing moment feeling like a test of endurance. The worry from my friends was palpable, their concern etched into every glance and every word. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate their care—it was their hovering, their treating me like a fragile thing, that grated against my newfound sense of strength. But amidst it all, there was Azriel.

He stood as a steadfast anchor amidst the storm, a silent guardian who watched over me with unwavering determination. While others fretted and fussed, he remained at my side, a silent sentinel who seemed to understand without the need for words. His presence alone was enough to bolster my spirits, to remind me that I was not alone in this struggle.

Throughout the day, I found myself stealing glances at him, marveling at the depth of his care. How had I not noticed it before? His gaze lingered on me with a mixture of concern and understanding, his eyes a window to the depths of his soul. It was as if he saw straight through the facade I presented to the world, recognizing the strength within me even when I doubted it myself.

As evening descended and the weight of the day settled upon us, we retreated to the familiar sanctuary of my room. Azriel had made it his own, his presence a comforting presence in the darkness. The routine of preparing for bed had become second nature to us—changing into pajamas, brushing our teeth side by side, and slipping under the covers as Azriel performed his meticulous check of the room.

In the quiet moments before sleep claimed us, we lay in silence, each lost in our own thoughts. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude for Azriel's unwavering support, for his steadfast presence that had seen me through the darkest of days. It was a bond forged in the crucible of adversity, a connection that defied explanation yet felt more real than anything I had ever known.

“Azriel?” I called softly into the night, my voice barely a whisper.

He turned to me, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the window. For a moment, we simply gazed at each other, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. And then, with a small smile, he reached out, pulling me closer until I was nestled against his chest.

At that moment, as I lay nestled against Azriel's chest, something shifted between us—a subtle yet profound change that altered the very fabric of our connection. It was as if the air crackled with an invisible energy, a tangible tension that seemed to draw us closer together.

I felt it first, the unmistakable sensation of the mating bond snapping into place with a sudden clarity that took my breath away. It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a truth that had always been there, hidden beneath the surface. The primal need to be close to him, to feel his presence as an extension of my own, suddenly made perfect sense.

And then, as if in response to my realization, Azriel let out a small gasp, his arms tightening around me with a fierce urgency that mirrored my own. It was a primal, instinctual reaction, as if some ancient part of him recognized the significance of this moment and refused to let me go.

In that instant, all doubts and uncertainties melted away, replaced by a profound sense of clarity and understanding. We were bound together, our souls intertwined in a way that transcended the physical realm. And as I gazed into Azriel's eyes, I knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, we would face them together, united by the unbreakable bond that now bound us.

"I'll protect you, ensure you are safe and happy and loved," Azriel vowed, his voice a soothing melody that wrapped around me like a warm embrace, promising sanctuary in the depths of his love.

Tears welled in my eyes as his words washed over me, a flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm my fragile resolve. "As will I," I replied, my voice trembling with the weight of my own commitment, my heart laid bare before him in a moment of raw vulnerability.

His eyes, pools of darkness tinged with golden fire, bore into mine with a fierce intensity, piercing through the walls I had built around my heart. "Throughout all the seasons you will be mine, if that is what you want?" His voice was a whisper, yet it echoed through the chambers of my soul, stirring something deep within me that I could no longer deny.

With a trembling breath, I reached out to him, my fingers trembling as they traced the contours of his face, memorizing every line, every scar, every shadow that danced across his skin. "There is no one else I would rather share them with," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper, the truth of my words ringing out in the quiet room like a sacred vow.

And in that moment, as our souls intertwined in the golden threads of the mating bond, I felt a surge of emotion wash over me, overwhelming in its intensity. It was as if the weight of a thousand lifetimes had been lifted from my shoulders, replaced by a sense of peace and belonging that I had longed for all my life.

With tears streaming down my cheeks, I pressed my forehead against his, our breaths mingling in the space between us as we stood on the precipice of eternity. In that sacred embrace, we found refuge from the storms that had battered our souls, forging a connection that would endure the trials of time. And as we surrendered to the pull of the mating bond, our hearts beat as one, a symphony of love and devotion that echoed through the halls of the House of Wind.

Together, we would face the challenges that lay ahead, our bond a beacon of hope in the darkness, guiding us through the labyrinth of life with unwavering strength and unwavering love.

For in each other's arms, we had found our home, our sanctuary, our forever. And as the night enveloped us in its embrace, we knew that no matter what trials awaited us, we would face them together, united in a love that was destined to last for all eternity.

[PREVIOUS]

[hotchs-big-hands]

Hcs about Aaron's body

Aaron Hotchner x GN!reader

18+ Minors dni please

I initially wrote these in dms, so it's not the most coherent thing I've written before but I feel like sharing them so here we are. Please enjoy :)

Okay so when I was drawing the artwork and adding all the scars and the stretch marks I thought damn. There's no way he doesn't feel insecure abt it all, like. The scars were one thing but then he softened over the years and stretch marks sprouted across his lower abdomen and I feel like one day he caught sight of them in the mirror and just :(

Then he's dating you and it's great! He's loving everyday with you and he's feeling so, so alive. But then one day you are at his place and you're getting rly cosy and making out and you are pawing at the hem of his shirt, wanting to touch and to see him and he freezes.

You immediately stop, you ask if he's okay and he looks so panicked and sad. You ask what's going on and he says he's...well, he's not comfortable about taking his shirt off, that he's sorry and understands if you don't wanna keep going. You say

"Hey of course I am, it's alright." 🥺 so you do end up keeping going but he thinks about it, how he couldn't show you his body.

He starts to pull away a bit then cuz he's ashamed of himself and doesn't think you'll like the look of him and that he thinks he's pathetic being too afraid to show you his body. You notice and confront him gently and he finally admits it all. He's fucking sad, ashamed, scared what you'll think. And ugh your heart breaks. You cup his cheeks and gaze into his teary eyes and tell him there is NOTHING about him that would put you off him. He's shaking, the tears are free flowing and you just hold him, letting him get these emotions out. He's not been able to express how he's felt about this to ANYONE, not Beth, no one. But he trusts you so much and it feels nice to get this out.

When he slowly calms down he pulls back and you can see the cogs turning in his head. He finally says he feels ready to take his shirt off. You tell him only if he feels okay to. He nods and with your help he slowly lifts the shirt up over his head to reveal his body. Your eyes notice the hair of his happy trail and stomach, then the abundance of scars that cover his body. And you just bite back tears, hands ghosting over the surgical scars and the nine stab wounds. He shivers.

"It's okay to touch, they do feel sensitive sometimes though." He mumbles.

It takes every ounce of strength for him not to burst into tears again when you touch his scars with such tenderness and care.

You won't ask him to relay what happened, waiting for him to approach the subject on his own terms when he's ready. It's already a highly emotional day for him.

Idly, you notice the stretch marks and his grimaces when you graze them.

"I got soft at some point, don't know when." He begins to try justify them, but you just kiss his cheek.

"They are beautiful, you're so, so beautiful."

He's never been called beautiful before, and it makes his eyes well up with tears again. Only this time they are happier tears.

And when you're both laying in bed together and you're gently kissing all of those scars and stretch marks and lil beauty marks and freckles? His heart melts, and he truly does feel as beautiful as you say he is. Not once have you shied away from him, you've instead never been closer to him. And when you're laying together after making love, your hand stroking his stomach softly as you cuddle him he smiles; yes, he could get used to this.

[vamp0rivm]

PICKING UP THE ———- PIECES -———

ch. 6

ch. 1 ch. 2 ch.3 ch. 4 ch. 5

don’t be a piece of shit

cw - set in jackson with an unclear timeline, no mentions of joel or jj, kind of half proofread, profanities, depictions of mental illness, graphic situations, CUNNILINGUS 🤰, mdni

Seconds, which blur the line between moments and hours, drag by, yet breaths still come in sharp, ragged gasps.

Your chest still feels heavy, bearing the lingering weight of the memories that overwhelmed you, and the stale, dust-ridden air of your old home still churns maliciously within your rib cage though you’re far from it now. Nothing is proving helpful in satiating your ravenous lungs.

Her hand is already soothing tender circles into your back before you can register it and the violence of your inhale softens.

“Shimmer?” you repeat, words veiled by winded breaths.

“Yeah, that’s right,” like it’s second nature to her, Ellie moves her calloused hand so that it’s splayed across your thumping heart to gently ground you and the room stops spinning so frustratingly.

Your focus shifts to her touch, to the warmth that radiates from her palm.

“It’s kinda fuckin’ impressive you managed to go so long without learning any of their names,” as always, her voice is a quiet rasp, intimate and gentle as a smile plays at her chapped lips.

In contrast, your gaze is intense and, somehow, distant. It makes Ellie’s stomach twist with anxiety.

“Wasn’t planning on staying.”

“… Right. Well, you should probably learn them now.”

You’re back in Jackson – not in your home, but in Ellie’s decrepit hybrid shed, which somehow managed to outdo your actual house by miles.

What your home lacked, hers carried in abundance; warmth and soul, with pictures and posters scattered across the dulled walls and memories laced through the trinkets lining each shelf. It was alive with the force of her affection.

Coming back invited the questioning gaze of the townspeople, but your mind was too tired to pay it any mind, or to pay the fact that she was leading you away from your house any mind either.

“The place you went to... You used to live there? I, uh, saw a carving of your name and your brother’s, I think it was, in the fence. Soren, right?”

“Yeah… Me and Soren…”

“… Listen… Why did you do it? You didn’t wanna be there, I know that much. You were... fucked up, to say the least, when I found you. I don’t understand.”

“I don't know… I don’t want to be safe; I don’t deserve to be safe-”

Your heart beats sporadically at the sudden overbearing guilt inside you, the source of which you can’t trace back to a specific moment, and your breath hitches in your throat so you can't meet her worried eyes. There are so many actions you cannot justify at all, save for the fact that there was a massive remorseful compulsion to do it. For Soren, even though you know, deep down, he’d never have wanted this, you know you did it for him. You’ll never fully be able to explain why, or why you ended up going back with Ellie without argument.

“Hey, I'm here." her soothing voice cuts through the dense anxiousness in the air and, for a moment, the fog clears - the sight of her softened face, so endearing.

“It’s okay. I’m okay.”

Her eyes are so beautiful; it's so easy to forget what you were even thinking about when you dive into them.

"You- fuck- you know that’s stupid, right? Of course you deserve to be safe, y/n, how could you not deserve that?"

You’re a fraud. You had everyone fooled, thinking you had morals, but you can’t let her believe in a falsehood. The words burst out like rust-ridden water from a burst pipe; so explosively that she jerks back slightly, eyebrows knitted in worry.

"Because I’m bad person! You don’t know me, Ellie! I killed him! I fucking beat him to death! I am so fucking disgusting!"

"You-"

"Oh my god, Ellie, he was just a fucking kid! And he was terrified! Terrified of what would happen if he let the infection take over and terrified of hurting me! Fuck, and he begged me to do it before he turned, but I couldn't fucking do it! How could I?! And then I beat him to death as soon as he came for me, because I am a coward, and when it came down to it, all it took was a little scare for me to hurt him so fucking badly... God, Ellie, it didn’t have to be like that; it shouldn’t have fucking been like that but I’m so selfish… He was all I had left… Without him, I’m nothing… But I fucking deserve it. I deserve all the shit that comes my way. And I have to take it. All of it."

Somewhere amidst the fire, she grabs your shoulders and pulls you closer,

"Y/N, no. Deep down, you know that's not true. He was just a kid but -fucking- so were you! You were just a kid, and it's not fair that you had to fend for yourself! It's not fair that you and your brother had to live like this! It's not fair that he got infected, or that anyone did, and it is not your fault that your choice had the consequences it did when you were panicked and desperate and young. It is not your fault it happened the way it did. This world... Nothing about it is fair. Even though I can’t replace him, and I don’t know you as well as him, I care about you and I want to be around you. And I know for a fact that you are not a bad person, and I fucking know that. You are not a bad person. What happened back then was not evil, it was tragic, not evil. You can’t forget it, and you shouldn’t! But your brother would never want you to be stuck in this awful cycle. He would never blame you like this. Shit happens, we do things we regret and life doesn't go the way we plan, we lose people we love, but we move forward. We have to. And you are not alone, not while I’m here, you can never be."

Her words are harsh and sharp, to get through to you, nicking little chips at the edges of your iron-strong resolve. For the first time, you let yourself consider it, and the strength of your guilt’s hold loosens up just a bit.

Through pooling tears that threaten to fall and the lump that sits tight in your throat, you reach out your arms to bury your face into the warmth of her shoulder, and push your shaky, cracking voice out.

“I miss him so much… I can’t stop thing about it… I can’t stop feeling like this…”

Ellie immediately collects your draped body into a fervid hold, trying desperately to cling onto the rare openings you allow her.

��It’s gonna be okay. Just give yourself time. Everything’s gonna be okay, I promise you.”

6 MONTHS LATER

The Tipsy Bison’s doors are held wide open, but great gusts of wind are no match for the laughter, clinking of glasses and constant hum of conversation within.

Somewhere amongst the bundles of life, you are sat at a rickety table beside Ellie, Dina, and Jesse, and are fitting in like a puzzle piece beyond all capabilities of your imagination when you first arrived in Jackson.

Jesse’s eyes held fast to Dina, who’s head was thrown back in a wholehearted cackle over something relatively insignificant. You were all slumped in your chairs with great big grins, flushed faces and strands of hair clinging to your clammy necks, in high spirits.

Your heart feels full. For the first time, you can go out and laugh freely without the intense gaze of your overwhelming guilt or constant, racing thoughts of Soren. Panic attacks lie dormant for longer than you’d ever dreamed of.

Ellie’s gaze reaches you, and the way your heart swells with all-consuming affection is mutual. You can tell from the way she looks at you, all warm and admiring.

For a second, the sight of the people behind her falls away and you are the only people left in the room, in the world. Here, you are with people who care about you, want to be around you. Here, there is a sense of belonging that you hadn't felt in a long time.

After a moment, the pink-tinged apples of her cheeks fatten with a sincere, toothy grin, hazy eyes squinting as they flit down to her glass, and you notice that the number of people here has actually dwindled.

“Oh shit, everyone’s gone, I didn’t even realise.” Dina mumbled, scanning the room. Jesse lazily rose from his chair, stretching as he looked back at her,

“We should probably get going too, huh. I'll see you two tomorrow, then.” He nodded over to both of you before huddling together with Dina and drunkenly walking off.

You look back to Ellie; she’s leaning back in her chair, legs spread in a way that brings on certain feelings, raising her glass to her parted lips and her eyes never leave yours.

You watch her swallow the last traces of whiskey and set the glass down before tilting her head at you with a smirk. You’re both drunk, warm, fuzzy, tingly.

Her eyebrows raise before she gets up and leans over, and whispering,

“C’mon, babe,” into your ear.

As you stroll back, you’re met with the refreshing cool night air and you can’t help but feel a sense of contentment, hand in hand with Ellie, watching her ramble on. Your hushed giggles carry through the empty paths.

When you arrive at Ellie's place, stumbling through the door, you collapse onto her bed. This place has become more of a home than your real home; you’re almost never not spending the night. Among the clusters of trinkets and piles of clothes, your belongings have found a place, as well as the acrylic image of your face amidst her paintings.

Candlelight, the room is bathed in the soft orangey glow, casting shadows that dance and flicker across Ellie’s grinning face. You cling onto her dearly, intertwining your limbs with flushed cheeks and gazing up at her longingly, light and airy.

You settle into a comfortable silence with your bodies pressed against each other while she stares up down at her rough palm as you trace, with gentle and loving touches, the lines engraving it, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten.

She pecks your cheek,

“Are you sleepy?”

You look up at her with a sly smirk,

“No. Are you?”

“Nuh uh, you know what I’m thinking?”

“Oh, I know exactly what you’re thinking?”

You rise from your spot, nestled into her side, taking the hand you were playing with and entwining your fingers as you hover over her. The look on her face is mellow yet excited, her hands already reach out for your waist, already making your body feel hotter.

“You gonna show me, babe?”

She pulls you closer so you dive into the soft crook of her neck, sensitive with trails of tingling skin where you place kisses, desperate to feel the warmth her body emits, desperate for her to feel so incredibly real to you, for her to overwhelm your senses. You’ve never been infatuated quite like this before, never felt quite so comfortable with the love you hold for a person. But with Ellie, it’s simple, easy, comes naturally to you. She’s so many things, but, especially a sanctuary. A sanctuary weathered by the storms of your past but still standing firm.

“Mhmm, I’m gonna show you, Els.”

Ellie’s slumped at the head of her dingy bed.

Her body is bare and her muscles are tensing with each desperate, visceral movement, glowing with a thin sheen of sweat and slick,, as she kneads her fingers into the fat of your ass and meets your lips hungrily.

You hold onto her freckled face, looking down at her fucked out, beautiful eyes. They’re just begging for more after giving it to you for so long, consolidated by the sparkly feeling of her grinding up onto you,

“You’re so hot,”

“Oh, am I?” you mutter, pushing her back against the mattress and watching her eyes widen while chuckling to yourself,

“Wha- Alright, jesus fuck,”

You crawl off her lap with deliberate sexuality, pushing her legs apart abruptly. She clambers up onto her arms but you push her back, watching her tits bounce as she collapses,

“Shut up, El,”

“Oh, I see how it is, you aren’t fucking around anymore. No more mr nice guy, no funny busin-”

“Dude, fucking stop, you just, like, made me un-wet,”

“Oh shit, gotta get serious.”

You smack her thigh gently.

She grins and folds her arms behind her head, her eyes never leaving yours as you lower yourself in front of her pussy. Yours narrow ever so slightly when she grabs the back of your head and pushes it into your mouth, moaning at the contact of your lips with hers.

It gets you warm, placing a kiss filled with genuine love on her puffy clit before borderline making out with her pussy,

The sight of her eyes rolling back as her jaw goes slack has you begging for more, so you run your tongue up from her slit before lapping at it like you’re starved and watching her go cross-eyed from the sheer pleasure.

You can’t help but dip a finger a finger or two into her dripping hole, wanting nothing but to make her feel good, for her to come undone on you, slick smeared over your mouth, nose and chin, dripping lewdly down your palm.

You watch her body convulse, mattress cover clinging to her sweaty back as it arches up off the bed and her legs pull you in graciously.

You rest your head on her thigh and relish in the sight for a moment before she’s looking back into your eyes and urging you to come up so she can hold you, and also to stop breathing onto her clit because her “legs might spasm and strangle you or something,”

You laugh and lay your head down on her naked chest to hear her heart thump within her, in the tender embrace of the arms she holds out for you.

“Els?”

“Hmm?”

“Remind me to take those really fluffy socks I have home with me later. So much stuff is here now, I keep getting annoyed whenever Im actually home for once.”

“Sure, I can do that, if I don’t also forget.”

“Great.”

She lulls your eyes into a soft close with the feeling of her stroking your hair, and as she watches you exist, she realises she’d like to do that for longer. So, she leans into your ear and whispers,

“Hey, babe?”

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t you just… bring all your stuff to my place, you know, move in with me?”

You raise your head from her chest (she immediately misses the warmth) and meet her eyes, face slowly morphing into an adoring smile which she reflects, before placing a kiss on her forehead and then locking your lips with hers.

PLEASE READ

a/n - last chapterrrrrr ahdgstihaveahugepenisdtyf, banners by cafekitsune and saradika-graphics, my condolences to anyone who has read this bc i kinda hate it but thanks anyways. im not gonna write anything for a while after this (except for this one req thats been sitting in my drafts for an ungodly amount of time) because of the situation in palestine and the upcoming global strikes. i dont want to think abt a game made by a zionist who embedded zionist propaganda into it and donated money to israel most likely earned from the game. upwards of 30,000 palestinians, 11,000 of which were children, have been murdered by israel since october. yeah, for now, it’s only gonna be palestine-related posts. please, please do not buy the remaster, im begging you. its just a remaster, im pretty sure we can all go without it.

[talonabraxas]

Hekate ☽◯☾ Talon Abraxas

Hekate opens new doorways to us, and as a Goddess of death and the underworld she can walk us through the journey as we cast our skin, go deep into the Earth and come out reborn.

“Then the earth began to bellow, trees to dance, and howling dogs in glimmering light advance, ere Hecate came.” - Virgil, Aeneid.

Intuitive Astrology: Aquarius New Moon January 2025

The first New Moon of 2025 falls in Aquarius on January 29. New Moons are our signpost from the Universe that fresh energy is on the horizon and that new beginnings are now possible. While our first New Moon of 2025 is indeed opening some doors, we do have a lot of retrograde energy circling from last year too.

Retrograde energy tends to stir up the past. It can bring old wounds or unfinished business to the surface, forcing us to make resolution once and for all.

Under this Aquarius New Moon, Mars, Jupiter, and Uranus are all in retrograde, so this fresh new energy we are waiting to arrive may feel a little distant.

However, one of the most noteable features of this New Moon is that Uranus, the ruling planet of Aquarius, and the bringer of change and awakening, is ending its retrograde just one day after the New Moon peaks, allowing a burst of fresh energy to move in.

Uranus has been moving through the underworld since September 2024, and has been helping us to wrap our heads around the changes that have been unfolding in the last few months.

In retrograde, it’s been working to bring acceptance to the changes and perhaps even a little stability, but it may have also limited our feelings of progress. We may have wanted to make changes but felt uncertain about the path to choose.

But now, with Uranus stationing direct shortly after this New Moon, we have some new potentials on the horizon. Changes that need to be made will happen quickly and we will find ourselves making more progress. We may even feel a sense of renewal and more ready to take on the fresh energies that 2025 has in store for us.

The Aquarius New Moon and Uranus stationing direct can hold a very expansive energy, helping us to dream big and think differently. Its energy can entice new ideas and leave us open to new inspirations. We may experience an ah-ha moment or feel excited to explore new ideas. New avenues may open up for us as we begin to recognize new potentials.

To access this energy, keep your mind open! Don’t stay closed and rigid and instead give yourself permission to explore new possibilities! Try to channel your mental energy into productive solutions and do your best to stay out of anxious thinking.

Jupiter is also active under this Aquarius New Moon, shining its abundant influence! Jupiter has the power to magnify what we are dealing with. While this can be confronting, it can also allow us to see the greater truth in more detail.

The nice thing with Jupiter is that is always gets us looking at the silver linings, so even if we are moving through something challenging, it will be easier for us to focus on the positives.

With Jupiter and Uranus stirring under this New Moon, we could find ourselves in for a bumpy ride! The Moon tends to heighten our emotions, so this combination could stir a lot for us. However, it does seem that we are being called to expand out of limited thinking.

We are being called to focus on new possibilities and to see things from a more expansive viewpoint. We are called to open our minds, open our hearts, and to see the positive side. We will be guided there if we lean into the messages and divine signals around us.

Aquarius, after all, is the 11th sign of the zodiac and the divine healer. It has the gift of taking the harsh energies and transmuting them into a balanced state. We can all lean into this healing energy by inviting the Aquarius New Moon to cleanse our aura and balance our mind.

Overall, the Aquarius New Moon is giving us glimmers of new potentials. We may still have some wading through the old to move through, but it does seem that we are being shown some new pathways. New inspiration is surely to follow.

[cheesycatz]

The Apple's Worm

(Spamton AU reference sheet) 1 2

Text ver and close ups below

- The last living member of the BIGSHOT computer worm species, this version of Spamton hides within the depths of Cyber City and its Trash Zone, skittish yet aggressive. He spitefully waits for the opportunity to restore his parasitoid species to its formal glory.

- He primarily walks on all twelves. He moves in short bursts, and can stay perfectly still. His body is rarely completely straight.

- He's 16 ft (~490 cm) long from nose to tail

- Spamton acts animalistic and unpredictable, as he grew up alone from both regular darkners and his own species. He feels uncomfortable about his own natural instincts.

- He bristles his fur and makes a rattlesnake-like hiss as a threat, and will attack if provoked.

- Spamton enjoys and feels much safer on ceilings, on walls, and in darkness.

- Despite living in the Trash Zone, Spamton still keeps himself clean, rubbing his legs together and rubbing his nose like a fly.

- As an invertebrate with no bones, Spamton's body is incredibly flexible.

- Still not beating the cat allegations

- Spamton is an opportunistic hunter who enjoys Cyber City's abundance of maice. He uses his extendable proboscis to impale prey and drink their souls.

-----

Wormton's design hasn't changed that much, as I mostly added onto existing lore with very few retcons. Though, I think I lean more into the insectoid elements nowadays. The longer segmented nose, compound eyes, and thinner limbs he has now definitely make him less like to be mistaken for a weird sergal. He's meant to look alien, but in a "weird animal from some far branching ancient linage that somehow survived several mass extinction events and has no other close relatives" way rather than an extraterrestrial way. His biology occasionally mimics the mammalian ideas we're used to, but they're always off. He has fur, but it's part of an exoskeleton. He has lungs, but they're 24 or so tiny pockets rather than two. He has eyelids, but they're actually nictitating membranes. He has a heart, but it's a set of five arches with no pulse. He has teeth, but they're detached parts of his mandibles that can move freely. And, uh, so on. God I love fictional biology

Despite being the size of an adult crocodile, Wormton acts more like a tiny spider. His twitchy movements and short bursts of movement are based on how bugs move, but they also fit the "Spamton" side of him. His behaviors are inspired by a variety of animals, but I'd say that spiders, wasps, and cats are the main ones. Additionally, a lot of his behaviors are based on the invasive species aspect of his design. These things are not at the top of the food chain. Their average life expectancy barely crosses 6 months. They'd rather hide than fight. Yet, they somehow become the most dangerous thing alive the moment they're brought to the surface web, spreading faster than lice in an elementary school. But, no matter how much of an advantage they have, they still hide and don't trust anything but themselves. God I love fictional ecology

Overall, I could talk for way too long about Wormton and malworms (his species). The only thing holding me back from massive info dumps is the fact that I want to actually finish the Wormton fic in a reasonable amount of time, whatever that ends up being. I fear I am quickly passing my estimated final length of 150k words and I might have 30% or more still left to write

[starlightiing]

Landoscar 🖤 for the kissing thing 🙏😘 absolutely adore ur writing

-rubywings

🖤 kissing while crying / goodbye kiss / desperation - Landoscar

@rubywingsracing

Sorry this took so long, I have been actively fighting my brain in a 1v1 WWE smackdown or something like that. I hope this is okay <3 And thank you so much, I'm so glad you like my fics!! <333 I decided since I probably won't ever write this fic as a whole, I'd at least get a snippet out of the 'Young Forever' idea. Based on THIS SONG by the ready set. specifically the lines 'the beat of the drums keeps us alive' / 'tonight will last forever 'till our bodies drop' Basic info: music keeps them alive. If the music stops for one of them, it's tied into their heartbeat and so their heart will stop in tandem. They need to be around speakers playing music or have headphones in playing music at all times or they die.

"It stopped. It - It stopped." Lando's voice is so desperate and tiny, his breaths following in short, staccato bursts that sound almost deafening to Oscar's ears. The fear written into Lando's features would be enough to break anyone's heart.

It completely shatters Oscar's.

"Hey, hey, it's okay." Oscar soothes, reaching out to place a gentle hand against Lando's cheek. Lando's skin is warm and buzzing, an electricity that Oscar can feel tingling in the tips of his fingers, running along highways of veins and capillaries until it reaches his heart. "It was only for a second. Nothing bad happened to me."

Lando shakes his head feverishly, curls bouncing every which way. Oscar watches as Lando's throat constricts, the flutter of his carotid pulse all too obvious in the hollow space between his collarbones. His heartbeat is fast, almost too fast, and it makes something unpleasant stir in Oscar's own chest. Seeing Lando like this is far more devastating than he ever could have imagined.

"It stopped. The music stopped." Lando says again, more incessantly, as his wide eyes come to rest in a deadlock with Oscar's gaze. "Your heart-"

"Didn't stop." Oscar finishes helpfully, unwilling to let the vicious storm of 'what ifs' and 'could haves' take Lando away from him. "It's still going. See?"

Oscar slides his hand down from Lando's cheek and uses it to instead grab one of Lando's trembling wrists. Delicately, he brings Lando's hand up to rest on his own chest, pressing the palm in against the curve of his sternum where his heart is beating at a steady, strong pace.

He knows the moment Lando feels his heartbeat, because those beautiful eyes, those goddamn eyes he loves so much, fill to the brim with tears.

"Oh, fuck." Lando gasps out, his voice trembling far worse than his hands. Oscar swallows thickly, watching the series of complex emotions that flicker across Lando's face. "Oscar. Fuck."

"It's okay," Oscar whispers, leaning in to press their foreheads together. Lando's fingers have curled up protectively in the space above Oscar's heart, almost as if he's trying to claw into Oscar's chest. "I'm here."

The hitch in Lando's breath makes Oscar's stomach churn. Tears begin to slip down Lando's cheeks - slowly, not in abundance, and Oscar wishes he could snap his fingers and take Lando's pain and fear away. He knows if the roles could reverse, he would be just as scared to have nearly lost Lando like that. To be milliseconds away from losing his sunlight, his moonlight, his starlight? Perhaps he would be even less composed. Perhaps he would not be composed at all.

"I love you." Lando says, before leaning and pressing his lips desperately against Oscar's. Oscar sucks in a sharp breath through his nose, tiling his head as he kisses Lando back just as desperately, like this is his lifeline and not the godforsaken music that forces his heart to keep on beating.

"I love you too." Oscar utters softly against Lando's lips as they break apart. "So much. I'm not going anywhere, okay?"

"Okay."

If Lando turns the music up in his headphones later that night, Oscar doesn't say a word.