#DRABBLE.
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it didn't use to hurt. it didn't use to feel like this.
every waking moment is agony; every unconscious moment a too-short relief. some days he spends howling and thrashing on the floor. most, all he can do is lie there pathetically and shudder while the pain wracks his body. skin so tight it could snap. ache in his jaw like a knife in his brain. like a special kind of torment he doesn't even have words for.
the meals they slide through his cell door go uneaten, become a buffet for cockroaches. he's so so hungry, stomach like a hollow drum, but his mouth no longer works the way it used to. food falls from it before he has a chance to swallow, he can no longer chew. what little he manages to choke down comes right back up when the pain hits, and all he can do is press himself against the concrete until exhaustion takes him.
he doesn't know what he looks like now. he'd smashed the tiny mirror above the sink when all this had started. when he tries to look at it, his face is distorted by the spiderweb of cracks. no way to tell what's wrong with him. no way to make any sense of anything.
days, weeks, months. hard to tell how long he's been in hell. no concept of time in solitary. no concept of time in his haze of pain. slowly, slowly it lessens a little. his vision clears a bit, his jaw has stopped swelling and the blood on all the teeth he'd lost has long since dried. his skin just feels hard, not tight. the white-hot pain at the base of his spine has faded to a dull, heavy ache.
it takes him a long time to stand. when he does, the cockroaches on the floor scatter at the movement. he tries to lean against the metal sink and it bends beneath his weight with a terrible screeching sound. he looks into the broken mirror, trying to decipher the jigsaw image he's presented with. blood red eyes staring back at him; something dark and lumpy and jagged for a face. something no longer human. something reptile.
and the dark smear of sweat and dried blood and old dead skin on the floor is all remains of waylon jones.
#body horror tw#ahhhhh this isn't really as good as i wanted it to be but i wanted to finish it#HEADCANON.#DRABBLE.#idk that's a tag now
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They chant her name, shower her with flowers, trample each other just for a single touch of the Warrior of Light. Eva comes back from her final battle on the edge of the universe, beaten and bruised, carried by Estinien and surrounded by the rest of the Scions. Her eyes are just slightly open, body aching with each step the dragoon takes. He keeps asking if she's okay, reassuring her that she's home. I'm home.
But what is home after these five years? What is home after fighting for survival, liberation, light and darkness... happiness? What is home when the soul that you carry is not even your own, when the memories that haunt you at night keep piling up and the few hours you can sleep turn into nightmares? Etheirys is the place where her friends are, where she can read a good book and still laugh despite all odds but a part of her wished she had stayed with Zenos in the edge of existence and just rest eternally. Eva is tired, oh so tired.
Once they reach the infirmary she's allowed a few seconds alone while the Scions discuss what's needed and it's only then that she lets the tears fall, overwhelmed by all that had happened to her. She looks at her friends, the ones that she had lost just a few moments ago, how they are all safe and sound and she can't quiet down a sob that rises through her. Through the tears she sees Y'shtola and G'raha's ears move in her direction and they are the first to reach her, arms wrapped around her. Soon after all the others join them. Tataru holds her hand, drawing small circles on her knuckles, Thancred places a small kiss on her forehead, they all huddle around her as Eva, for the first time in her life, cries her eyes out. She can't stop the tears from flowing, trying to catch her breath but each time it seems to fall too short.
The people sing praises to the hero, only see her with weapon in hand, eyes locked on the enemy and yet the ones holding her right now are the ones who catch the tears of the sacrificial lamb. These people are truly her home.
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alec stopped by nick's place a couple times after both he and octavia left to gather a few more bags of things for kassy, to clean up the broken glass and spilled coffee that was left there and seemed to stain the wall. though he enjoyed having another person in his home since his grandma passed, he was saddened by the reason and deeply heartbroken by the state of his dear friend. he let kassy take over enna's room but it almost felt as though his grandma was still alive as he was transported back to heavily caring for someone once again, this time for kassy.
he had witnessed her closing down and going numb, as she called it, only a few times when they were growing up but ever since they had met octavia, met nick and the rest of the gang, he didn't think he'd ever witnessed it again. not until now. the first few days after they left she hardly left the bedroom, curled up in bed but not sleeping. nothing he did seemed to elicit any kind of response either, no food -- not even her favourites, not offering to watch something, not offering company. the only time she would move was to check her phone at night to see the text sent that octavia and nick were alright.
there were too many conflicting and overwhelming emotions to deal with after they left so kassy's body did what it did best and let her escape. her mind leaving her body as she laid there wracked in anguish, the numbness settling over her like a familiar darkness she had almost forgotten. though it was similar to after the kidnapping, the depression feeling like a bottomless pit with no escape, this was different. it wasn't an escape just from memories, but an all consuming agony. nick had been patient with her over that month and now alec tried the same but it was too much, dare she admit it was more painful than anything she'd experienced yet.
they left her. it was a simple sentence but those three words cut deeply into her, past her walls because she let them in. her blinks were slow as her jaw clenched, body curled in the fetal position where she laid in the middle of alec's grandmothers bed, paralyzed in the incomprehensible shock that this was her reality. as much as she knew that they loved grant, that they cared about him, she never thought after what he had done that this would be the outcome. that still, no matter how much he hurt them, they would still choose him. her eyes burned yet there were no tears as she stared unseeing across the room.
they chose him. another simple sentence, another three words that felt like a blade through her heart. "they'll come back kassy," alec would try to reassure her but his words fell on deaf ears because would they? if he never returned would they? they clearly had no reason to stay to begin with, so why return? it was unfair to think such bitter things, her hurt clouding her rational mind as it tried to remind her that this wasn't about them choosing, that they loved him and they loved her, that in octavia's case, she had no choice. but it didn't matter how she rationalized it, it was soul crushing all the same.
she wasn't enough. her care, her time, her reassurance, her presence, her love. it wasn't enough and it would never be enough. it wasn't enough for her own parents so how could she think she would be for anyone else? she knew that she wasn't, she had always known since she was a child, no matter who she befriended. no matter what they said, or who confessed their love to her. she had never believed she was enough. not until octavia. until nick. but they tricked her. broke down her walls with false assurances. with i love yous and where were they now? she felt resentment burn in her core, an easier emotion to tap into instead of the absolute heartbreak she felt. she hadn't needed anyone, why did they make her need them? a single stinging tear slid down her cheek, her dark and distant eyes closing.
kassy's jaw ached as she let out a quiet, pained breath when she was alone. despite everything she still couldn't bring it in her demand they to stay and she would not beg. she had told them time and time again that she wanted them to stay, that she wanted nick to stay since it was his damn idea. that this wasn't worth it, that it would just be another chance for grant to hurt him. he left him without even saying goodbye for godsake! she felt the anger simmering in her chest like burning coals, each time she thought of every fight, of every moment she was there for either of them, there for the aftermath of what grant had done. it fed those coals, fueled that fire.
"kassy..." alec's voice broke through the fog, sounded over the crackling of the flames in her broken heart and she blinked slowly, coming back to herself enough to feel his hands clutching hers tightly. she looked up at his tearful, empathetic gaze, "how can i help? kassy, how can i help? what can i do?" her eyes closed, unable to look at him, to let herself feel the sadness and guilt that would come from closing off to him. alec didn't deserve it yet she couldn't help herself, it the only way she knew how to protect herself, how to keep that numbness in place and not to get swallowed whole by her grief, by her anger, her anguish.
don't leave me, were words unsaid that clung like claws to her tongue. instead she said nothing of the sort, shaking her head the slightest as she slowly pulled her hand from his. "there is nothing you can do," she said in a tired, defeated tone. "i'll be fine..." alec whimpered but nodded despite not believing her. she didn't quite believe herself if she was being honest but life continued and she couldn't lay immoble forever. she couldn't afford to fall behind in school anymore than she had, so monday morning she rose. got herself dressed and ready. drank a coffee and headed to class. her movements were nearly robotic, the shine in her eyes dull and much to alec's anxiety she left without a bite of breakfast.
clutching to his phone he closed his eyes tightly, hoping that octavia and nick would return home soon and that it would fix everything, that kassy would realize they hadn't left forever, that they did love her. he was deathly afraid that them leaving had broken kassy in a way he had never seen before.
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His relationship with Lilith was like oil and water; as much as oil creates beautiful colors when intertwined with water in their silent dance - it contaminates the substance.
She was snake oil in all her beauty and he fell deeply for the toxifying aura she produced for his senses. She was his hellfire disguised as his saving grace: the epitome to his downfall towards insanity.
He was none the wiser - a now fallen angel. And she played him with his violin of impurity. She became a ghost, the blackness that now haunts and lives in the corners of his peripherals.
7 years is a long time, and he waited, patiently; like a fool, once again. And one day - he snapped. He prayed in vain, to Her, to God once again that wouldn't hear his prayers. But ... that was okay with him.
I'm tired of holding onto you. It's time to let my pride go and learn to love myself again. I don't want to wait another day, I've waited long enough. [ ... ] I've hesitated all my life but I'm all done. I'm done running from you. Spent my whole life in your shadow, scared of who I'd be if I said goodbye and didn't have you here. [ ... ] I love you to death but I can't spend the rest of my life in this darkness; I'm done. I wish you the best but I'm not interested in giving you more of my life, I've already given you too much. [ ... ] Rubbing my face in it and treating me like I'm less than you. Tell the truth, you know I'd be better without you. Been in your shoes, don't be a fool and try to convince me that I'm the real issue when you're the root to every problem. I love you but not enough to allow you to drown the both of us. You're holding me back, you're pulling me down, you're making me hate myself. I don't want to leave, but that's what I need. I ain't got a choice, I can't just let you deceive and make me believe that I don't deserve to be loved. I am not gonna stand aside and watch you attempt to rob and steal and sabotage what little faith I have left. Haven't I given you enough? [ ... ] But I think it's time to let go and say our goodbyes. I'm gonna miss you but I'm not gonna spend the rest of my life running from you.
Running // NF
#headcanon.#drabble.#lilitophidian#toxic relationship tw#depression tw#idk how to tag this#i wrote this based off a song because i was sad
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Characters: Silas Cody, various mentions / allusions to others.
Timeline and setting: April 25th, 2023 + Lone Fir Cemetery in Portland, Oregon.
Trigger warning: death, child death, grief, cancer, drugs, suicide ideation.
“I think you’d have smoked Acapulco Gold, if you’d smoked,” Silas says as he tilts the matchbox he’s just retrieved from the pocket of the jacket he had to take off due to the heat to free one, striking it against the headstone he was sat beside to light up his joint. “Or maybe you’d have been a Bubba Kush kinda guy. Lemon haze?”
He lets that question hang in the air as he takes a long, lung-deep toke as if he was waiting for his brother’s voice to speak back to him with answers. It wouldn’t, it never did, and somehow that hadn’t gotten easier with the passing of time like all those stupid pamphlets and well-meaning wishes had told him.
According to his birth certificate, Portland was his home, the city that raised him but it had never quite felt that way. Not even twelve years in California with five of those spent locked in a cage had been enough to restore any rose-tinted memories for him of the first place that had ever left scars on his body.
For the first four years of his life, eerie children’s characters painted on chipped hospital walls had been his most frequent friends, unblinking eyes that watched him silently as he tried to be a brave boy like his mother demanded while his body was poked and prodded and used as a last lifeline for the dying boy who was the only reason he existed in the first place. That had been Silas’ job, the only one that ever mattered, to save Jack.
( Four years old was too innocent to truly comprehend the magnitude of death. )
“I wish we could have smoked together. Or just done anything together, really. Sometimes I wish that you lived and I died, I think you’d have done it better than me. Living. I only knew you for four years but you were the best guy I ever knew. If it had of gone that way, I don’t think mom would have forgotten to smile the way she did and maybe dad wouldn’t have drank so much. I think you guys would have been sad a while but you’d have moved on. We could never move on from you. We were never allowed to. It made me hate you. Man, I fucking hated you.”
His head leans back against the black marble headstone that bore gold lettering with JACK CODY carved into it along with his birth and death date. The picture of the beaming boy that was displayed on it with his brunette hair still intact before treatment bore a striking resemblance to the weary man tapping ash into the patch of grass that separated his brother’s resting place from someone else’s loved ones.
They had always looked the most alike, the oldest and youngest of the Cody boys, and Silas had adorned his body with various tattoos and images from his teen years in the hopes that maybe if they were less similar his mother would have been able to bear looking at him.
“Not really though. It just made being here without you easier. I’ve always been better with being angry than being upset, you know?”
Out of the corner of his eye, he can’t help but notice the vibrant arrangement of blue irises that had to have been freshly placed for how they had been fairing against the weather, his hand reaching out to brush his fingertips against their petals as he held his spliff in between his lips.
“Mom’s still alive then,” He observes after he exhales, feeling equal parts relief and revulsion at knowing that. It makes him curious about if she had ever found herself sat in the same cemetery as he was, at the same grave, sharing the same regrets. It’s been years since he had seen her face but he could picture it so clearly due to how regularly he saw her in that state, cheeks tearstained after weeping for the boy who had been dead for longer than he had. Had she ever wept for the wayward one that still had a heartbeat on any of her visits?
He would have settled for wondered if not, to be a fleeting thought in the mind of the woman who had given him life for no other reason than to prolong her firstborn’s was better than being nothing at all which is what he felt like most of the time.
( Thirteen years old was too young to die. )
“I don’t why I thought she might visit me, when I was in prison. I wrote her a letter, tried to say I’m sorry for being such a fuck-up. Not just with the drugs and shit, with everything. She never wrote back, which should have been my first clue but, I don’t know. Every week when visiting hours would roll around, I thought maybe she might show and sit across from me and maybe hold my hand or something and we could try and mend some shit.” There’s a humourless laugh that leave’s his mouth then, that kind of naivety was something he hated in other people and he would never have confided this in anyone living, which made Jack the only person he could really talk to these days.
“You wouldn’t know but, let me tell how it goes after someone dies, people rally. They show up. They look out for you, but then they show up less ‘cause they moved on. Moved forward, even if you’re still stuck in it. That’s what prison is like too. Six months, a year, people show up to visit, they accept your calls, they write you. But then you hit two years, and three, four and you start to see that you’re just not important to people like that. It doesn’t fit with their life anymore, because they’re moving forward and you’re just stuck there. Living out the same fucking day, day in, day out. Sometimes I used to hope someone would start shit with me just for something to do,” He knows that Jack would have laughed at that, the same way he always did when Silas found himself in a wrestling match in the living room with Nathan, who was three years older than him and had always been built like a brick house even back then.
As much as he loathed Nate, he had taught him a valuable lesson early on – it was just as important to know how to take a punch than it was to be able to throw one.
“Remember that girl I told you about last time I was here? The one I said I’ma marry one day, you don’t even wanna fucking know how that turned out.”
It’s harder for him to make light of that topic as he did every other one, even when speaking to deaf ears. Some part of him knew that if he felt less for Jordan, it would be easier to speak about her – but he’s never been good at doing less when she was in the equation.
Ever since they had first crossed paths he’s always wanted more from her – to love him more, to need him more, to give him more. More, more, more while all he had to offer her was himself which had a track record of always being just a little less than.
It had never occurred to him that he had been expecting too much, not until her visits started to be missed and his calls started to be screened.
“She’s prolly better off without me around but, classic Silas, can’t have that. So I been keeping tabs on her fucking daily even though I've been out for two years. Day they let me out that cage I had this stupid fucking notion in my head that she’s gonna remember why she gave a fuck about me in the first place and she'd be there outside the gates waiting for me even though we hadn't spoke in four years. She wasn't, so I went on a two week coke bender with this chef chick that I met the day I was released and the rest of the last two years have been a fucking blur of trying to forget about her.” He clicks his tongue then, a shake of his head following as he crosses his ankles so he can stretch his legs out in front of him, keeping a stoney faced expression despite the sympathetic smile aimed his way by a dark-haired woman who was trudging her way towards a cluster of headstones just passed where he was sat.
“No such luck, not that it matters. I think she hates me, and in some ways I get that ‘cause they tell me getting released is getting a second chance but I haven't done shit with mine.”
( Thirty three years old was too old to change. )
Even with the debts that he had racked up just before he was sent away and while he was in there now cleared, he has no idea what the fuck he wants to do with his life. After seven years removed from what he considered his norm, it takes him by surprise that he’s starting to see cycle he was caught in.
“Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, would it? You and me kicking it here forever. Seems like no matter what I do, it always comes back to me and you.”
Silas, Jack. Jack, Silas. Oldest, youngest. Selfless, selfish.
A boy taken too young and a man who’s lived longer than anyone anticipated.
Finally, he’s getting himself up off the ground, patting off stray blades of grass that hand clung the fabric of his dark jeans before he reached down to pick his jacket up.
“I’ll be honest with you man, I don’t think I’m going to be back here again. It just hurts too much to be in this city and to be here. I don’t how much more hurt I can handle, which probably makes me sound like a pussy but it’s just the truth. I want you to know that it doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten about you ‘cause I never could. You weren’t just my big brother, you were my best brother. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”
#drabble.#ft. jack cody.#ft. jordan mitchell.#ft. nathan cody.#ft. rose raleigh.#long post cw#death tw#grief tw#child death tw#suicide ideation tw#cancer tw#drugs tw#just covering all the bases KJHGSHJ was meant to post this a millennium ago bc it pre-dates just before he rocked back up to AB but w/ever#wanted it on the blog <3
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GROUNDED.
ONE. the first week orel doesn't show to his sermon doesn't raise much alarm. perhaps the boy was sick. still though, he found it odd the rest of the puppingtons were present in his absence. it wasn't like orel to miss church, but neither was it putty's place to pry.
TWO. the second week, putty lets his curiosity get the best of him. orel hadn't been to church all week long, and trust you, the reverend had been watching. something wasn't sitting right with him. he'd pulled clay aside before the mayor could leave church and responsibility behind. the man of the house claimed to be teaching orel a lesson. rod couldn't help but question his methods.
THREE. a third week goes by, still no sign of orel. still no answers, either. despite his proclaim of not praying outside his nine - to - five duty as is, he throws out a quick prayer that week, though he doesn't know exactly what for. just that orel be kept in safe hands.
FOUR. the fourth week and there's word on the street. talk of hospitalization. suicide. a strapping, bright boy like orel ? driven to suicide ?! and so the town has failed orel once again, over and over. he'd failed orel. it sits, rots like a pit in his stomach. the atmosphere is heavy, and he's barely able to keep a facade through the week's sermon.
END. the reverend is relieved when he sees orel's face show up again at church, though he tries not to let it show too much. there's no reprimanding, or questions of what happened to him. he just lets orel reiterate his sermon back to him, relieved moralton hadn't lost one of God's only beacons of light.
#DRABBLE.#suicide mention /#this has been sitting in my drafts for a bit but ARGH#i know rod for a fact would have been worried during the events of grounded n wanted to do a little introspection drabble type thing
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He is like a Solider who carries his mighty sword, a double-bladed weapon swinging from left to right, bringing healing and destruction. His role has been bestowed without any say of his own, and he fails to stave off the dreaded Calamity, cities of the land leveled in its wake
But...
He is like a Poet in the moments of quiet where a faint melody might be heard on the wind. It tames and strengthens and shifts the world around him. Notes tremulous but firm. Who knew such a simple instrument could change the very course of time itself?
But...
He is like a King, anointed by a distant goddess for a purpose greater than himself, serving a land and peoples more expansive than he ever dreamed. His crown is one of toil, a burden much more than a blessing, and he wears it sorrowfully, head bowed low with regrets
#thus it is written || headcanons.#mute courage || link#sort of merging wild and time here buT#DO YOU SEE MY VISION#and i mean. this is also meant to reflect all the different iterations of Link and how the Hero takes many shapes#drabble.
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taehyun with a dacryphilia kink🤭
Just like that -KTH
MDI
Genre: smut
Pairing: Taehyunx afab! Reader
Word count: ~1,5k
Warning ⚠️: dacryphilia, unprotected sex, I don’t know what else.
Combined two asks in one since they kinda worked together??
Not proofread- and also not that proud of it
The moment you felt Taehyuns hand on your waist you knew you were doomed. You pestered him for the past hour to give you attention but he still had work to do so he told you to wait. You weren't a patient person so you didn't give up, distracting him with every chance you got, making him exhale in frustration before proposing something that needles to say, made you all flustered.
"Tsk, fine, but I still expect you to be done in at least half an hour!" You say with a pout making your boyfriend chuckle. Sitting in his lap was much more comfortable than you expected. He was so warm and comfortable, the smell of him was so infatuating you felt like you would go crazy if he went anywhere out of your reach. You readjust yourself deeper into his embrace, hearing his breath hitch.
"Pretty, if you wanna stay like this you'll have to stay out hm?".You freeze for a moment at the sound of his voice so close to your ear but quickly break out of it and smirk at his little comment trying your best to hide it by hiding your face in the crook of his neck and fake an innocent tone. "I want to stay as close to you as possible though?" You receive a scoff as reply followed by the typing sound which meant Taehyun resumed his work. You furrow your brows unsatisfied with the outcome so you continue with the teasing, pretending like you were only trying to cuddle, you start kissing your boyfriend's neck while your hands wander inside his shirt. With a low groan, he thrusts his hips up involuntarily making you whimper against his skin.
"Pretty, if you wanna stay like this you'll have to stay out hm?".You freeze for a moment at the sound of his voice so close to your ear but quickly break out of it and smirk at his little comment trying your best to hide it by hiding your face in the crook of his neck and fake an innocent tone. "I want to stay as close to you as possible though?" You receive a scoff as reply followed by the typing sound which meant Taehyun resumed his work. You furrow your brows unsatisfied with the outcome so you continue with the teasing, pretending like you were only trying to cuddle, you start kissing your boyfriend's neck while your hands wander inside his shirt. With a low groan, he thrusts his hips up involuntarily making you whimper against his skin.
"Fuck... what did I tell you? You're really trying to make it hard for me to concentrate. So needy for my attention." Before getting the chance to protest, your boyfriend's hands grab your ass making you yelp in surprise. "Too late trying to act innocent now darling ". Despite his words, the smile on his face was sweet and loving, so warm and comforting, trying to get you to understand how sorry he is for not giving you his full attention. You lean towards him and kiss him softly, his lips feeling so warm against yours. You were never able to get used to his kisses. There was something about them that made you burn up. Was it the closeness or his taste, or the way you felt insatiable, you couldn't tell but it was always the same feeling. You grind down on him, making him whimper against your lips, this time not being able to hold your smirk in.
"You sound pretty under me" you compliment him teasing having him roll his eyes. Taehyun gets closer to you, lips close to your ear, whispering in a low tone.
"Bet I sound better on top". With that being said, he lifts you and makes his way toward the bedroom, setting you down on the mattress, hovering over you with a playful smile. His hands start tracing over your skin, under your shirt, over your chest, and then back down, taking his time inspecting every inch of your body. You felt hot, your face burning up while your body wasn't sure how to react.
"Teasing much?"
"Why? You can't take it?" His eyes were fixated on yours making you feel butterflies and gulp before being able to respond.
"Though you were busy". His lips attach to your neck, leaving kisses all the way down to your collarbones.
"Never too busy for you ". He says before kissing your neck, then sucking on the exact same spot making you moan his name. "That's right, just like that. You sound so pretty". His hands travel to your sweatpants, taking them off slowly. "You make me want to fuck you so badly, you don't understand ".
You were too far gone, mind all fuzzy, not being able to handle the tension. His words were making your core ache so you wrap your hands around his neck and bring his lips back to yours, kissing him hungrily. "Taehyun... touch me please". He smiles and leaves a quick peek on your lips before putting some space between the two of you. He started kissing your abdomen while his hand made its way to your underwear, teasing you over the fabric. You needed his touch on you, you needed him IN you so the fact that he was taking his time was driving you nuts, making you dizzy with want. You grind yourself in his hand, pleadings leaving your lips, trying and completely failing to sound composed.
"Oh... someone impatient ". A desperate whimper leaves your lips before you could even stop it. It was getting frustrating. "Taehyun "
The neediness of your actions, the pleadings, and whimpers, all of them made Taehyun's cock harden against his pants, making it unsupportable. Seeing you like this for his sight and his sight only made him want to reward you so he finally slides off your underwear off. His fingers start teasing your entrance but wastes no more time teasing you, thrusting two fingers inside. You were so wet the sound of his fingers entering made a squelching sound, making you cover your face in embarrassment.
"Ah, fuck. That was so hot." Not even paying any more thought to it, your boyfriend starts thrusting his fingers inside you, the sound amplifying, making your face red. Your hands leave your face and grip the sheets when Taehyuns thumb starts leaping over your clit, having you over sensitive. The way he was praising your body down to the smallest part, the way he would hit your sweet spot with every thrust because he knows exactly how you like it, the soft touches over your sensitive bud. A high-pitched whimper leaves your lips as tears start streaming down your face.
The second your boyfriend realizes you started crying, panic washes over him. The moment you feel his movement stop your voice breaks, pleading for him.
"Fuck, no. Please don't stop. Fuck". It takes your boyfriend a second to get back from his shock, still slightly unsure about what to do.
"Are you sure love? Are you ok?". You grind back into his hand in desperation, feeling like you could take it anymore.
"Yes, Taehyun...feels good... fuck me already, please". Your voice was breaking and you knew you looked like a mess but you couldn't care less at the moment. Taehyun was a wreck too, seeing you cry for him, while his fingers fucked you so good made him want to see just how hard you'd cry when he was deep inside you. Without wasting more time, he slides his cock out of his sweats, bringing the tip to your entrance, wetting his shaft before slowly pushing it in. You were both moaning in unison. The stretch felt so good it was unbearable, your walls clenching around him, making your boyfriend moan trying to keep the slow peace. Once he makes his way all the way inside you, he gives you time to adjust while making slow thrusts deep inside of you.
"Tell me how it feels. It doesn't hurt does it?". His face was hidden in the crook of his neck in an attempt to keep himself somehow grounded, not wanting to go too rough but losing any drop of control he had left when he heard you plead for him to go faster, resulting in him twitching inside of you. He picked up his peace but still kept his thrusts deep, making sure you feel every inch of it. "Hah...Look at my needy darling. Crying for my dick now? Do you like feeling me so deep inside of you?". Your sentences aren't coherent anymore, you were full-on sobbing from feeling so dizzy with pleasure, you thought you might pass out. "Shit... look at the way you clench around me, look at the sound your pussy makes when I push in. Such a pretty mess just for me." His thumb goes once again to your clit, circling it with quick movements making your thighs shake uncontrollably.
"Taehyun... fuck, fuck. I can't. I'm gonna-" His pace speeds up, the thrust shortening but hitting your sweet spot directly over and over again making you reach your high quicker than expected. His movement doesn't stop even after your orgasm passes, overstimulating you, your thighs still shaking and walls still clenching around him. His soft moans were filling your ears until his movement began to falter as he finally came.
He plops himself beside you, dragging you into his embrace, kissing your hair.
"I'm sorry love... was I too rough? I just don't think I can control myself... when I see you crying like that"
#bts smut#bts fluff#fanfic#smut#imagines#bts#bts angst#txt smut#drabble#txt taehyun#txt kai#txt soobin#txt scenarios#txt smut.#txt fanfic#Drabble.#kill me cuz my writer block is horrible#I hate everything I write
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She wanted to be human right? Supposed to be human, supposed to breathe like them, to speak like them, to be like them...
A pulsating in her chest, a heaviness in her throat, as if she needed to hurl, to curl up. What was she? What was she supposed to be? Why couldn't she just be normal? Why couldn't she be human?
Tightness, her lungs stifled and corrupt. Did she even have lungs? Not wanting to know, not wanting to see. Belonging nowhere, yet people were so nice to me? As if she were a person, as if she were human. Knowing all along that she wasn't, was she? Was she EVER human? Ever meant to belong? Ever meant to walk alongside indistinguishable?
" i'm a persun. i'm. i'm a... "
Words coming out dry, tough and quiet. Repeated words from home, from those that took her in. A repetition that never left. You aren't human. You shouldn't be, it's better you aren't. You're going to be something wonderful. You're going to help. Help this world grow.
" i have to be. i hhave to. "
Hunted like a sawsbuck. Wings clipped and a tracker in her neck. Struggling in her gilded cage, desperate to be FREE.
What was she?
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thursday, june 21st, 1:53pm.
the plan had been created unexpectedly but the moment they had seen the photo of the supposed man alec had gone on the date with their fury took over. with the picture sent to them, they made last minute arrangements and all but nearly begging hunter to keep an eye on him while they left. there was nothing else, no one else who could stop them. rev hadn't intended to go after them, hadn't intended to leave alecs side yet here they were, ticket booked, plane boarded and on their way to the islands.
the beast inside was thirsty for blood, stirring under the surface as they nearly moved in a robotic fashion. they tried not to think about how similar they appeared to hunter in this moment or what that meant about him, no their mind focused on their mission. yes it was revenge, yes it could be seen as stupid and dangerous and insane but no words penetrated, they had their sight set and locked. was this how nick had been? they tried not to think about him, doing all they could not to snarl there in their seat on the plane. rev fucking hated flying, hated being in such close proximity to people who had no sense of boundaries.
thursday, june 21st, 10:31pm.
with all the information given to them from the girls about the trip, where they stayed, where it happened, where they found him, rev was able to pick up the scent in no time, their skin crawling, practically rippling as the beast inside grew restless. it was only a matter of time before the bloodlust would be quenched and as rev stalked towards the supposedly abandoned lot their lips curled baring their teeth, nails turned to claws at their side. they heard talking on the otherside of the door, booming and snide laughter from slimy men and whimpers from whom they were tormenting inside. eyes closed a moment as they sucked in a slow breath. time stood still before they let another ripple through their body once more and as their eyes flashed open their transformation shuddered free. claws tore down the door as a vicious and animalistic sound tore from between snarling canines as screams and shouts filled the night.
friday, june 22nd, 1:14am.
returning to the small home they'd booked to stay for a night, the beast walked in a slow manner. upright, their hind pawpads sunk into the earth of the backyard, slowly growing lighter as they changed back. in the dark it would be hard for one to tell rev wore no clothes as blood caked their body and dripped from their chin, from their fingertips into the grass and back steps. pushing open the back door rev hissed as they were stopped, a clank bringing their attention to the metal rod protruding from their thigh, something they hadn't even noticed during the total chaos of the bloodbath. harshly yanking it free, rev discarded it behind them with a quiet clatter as they limped inside to shower.
blood and gravel left prints behind them on the floor as they entered the bathroom. rev had intended to simply step right into the shower when the sight of them in the mirror caught their attention. blood coated the lower half of their face, splattered in their hair, covered most of their naked form. any wounds they'd occured also bled but were slowly healing as bullets were pushed free as the flesh regenerated, clattering on the floor at their feet. they looked like a monster, something out of a horror movie yet they felt vindicated in their destruction, in the murder and blood they shed that night.
they raised their arm to haphazardly wipe their mouth, unfazed by what they looked like. that they were sure their friends and alec, would stand horrified and afraid had they seen rev like this. it didn't matter, they were safe now, avenged, no one would put their hands on alec and steal him from safety like that again, not if rev had anything to say about it. in the tiny bathroom and the heat of the water, steam fogged around them as they finally stepped under the spray of the shower. with the beast fed rev's aqua gaze was dim as they replayed the night in their mind, blood rising from their form.
please! the man had begged, voice strained with the weight of rev's wolf form pinning him down, fighting to be heard against the loud deep rumbling of their snarl. with their jaw open baring their large canines that dripped with the blood of this mans coworker, he cowered and pleaded for his life. the hot breath of rev's snarled panting drew closer, muzzle opening wider as he squirmed. there was no room for sympathy in rev's heart, just the unbridled rage that was fueled by the women that they'd freed from trafficking. fueled by picturing alec here, clothes torn and dirty, bruised and scared. their large paws pressed harder, claws digging into his chest as he screamed out but the sound ended abruptly as jaws snapped shut, the sound of wet, torn flesh and bones crunching replacing it.
rev's jaw clenched at the memory, spitting blood from their mouth before their head tipped back, taking in some of the shower water to rinse their mouth. those scum deserved it. just like the man who tortured nick. who continued to allude them. they thought back to their run-ins with grant, the way he had put his hands on nick. it had been hard not to crush him there too. eyes shut tightly as their hands balled into fists and they leaned their weight in one arm that rested against the shower wall. what good was rev if they couldn't help in the moment? alec was still traumatized, and so was nick, and no matter how furious they were with that man, they hated themself more.
they gazed down at the floor, water nearly running clear now, the blood near washed away and their wounds healed. exhaling sharply, they shook their head, hand running through their hair before they began to properly wash. they had blood to clean up after this and a flight home to catch. they couldn't afford to leave their people unprotected any longer.
friday, june 22nd, 7:15am.
with all traces of last night thoroughly cleaned and discarded, along with an update from hunter, rev tightened their binder before yanking on their shirt. zipping up their small overnight bag, they hoisted it over their shoulder, locking up as they left. did they feel better? honestly, a little, and hopefully the trafficking here was wiped clean, but all they really wanted was to be home, be back by alecs side. hope you're okay, rev, miss you. alec had sent the text along with a bunch of flowery emojis that usually had rev's eyes roll. this time a softer bittersweet smile tugged at their lips and they clutched their phone tight to their chest. even though they knew alec wouldn't necessarily approve of this, rev would sleep better at night now.
and after a small purchase, a gift for alec, carefully wrapped and tucked into their bag, rev headed back to the airport. they'd be back in time for brunch.
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u get another teaser drabble for what's to come in 2024 for aisling and the squad, but before i dive into it: this year is a whole JOURNEY, yk? a real saga of so many parts for aisling and the family and ur muses too (if u want!! bc i very much want ye to feel like u can be involved!) but this is like. i've been so excited abt this for so long, and that's all i wanna say atm, but i will be making a post to outline stuff if y'all wanna plot smth involved w this year's overall arc!
she's never driven as fast as this in her life. rubber burning, tires defying every natural law of physics as they power through puddles and thin air and loose gravel to bring her to the blooming flower of smoke that protrudes from the familiar block. the police have already set up the tape, not for a crime scene but rather to keep the others safe, when she skids to a halt next to them, abandoning the keys in the ignition, door open, knowing nobody would be stupid enough to steal it tonight.
" will! " she's racing forward, and the officer instinctively lifts a hand. " where are they?! "
" aisling-- "
" where?! " she's about to move past him, but he plants a hand on her shoulder with admittedly lacking wisdom. adrenaline and terror and trauma collide. she catches his wrist, twists it down and away from her arm, and uses a swirl of energy to pin him down against the bonnet of a police car.
" wait! dammit, wait, wait, wait! " he's yelling, his free hand waving out frantically, and it takes a second for her to grasp that he isn't speaking to her, but to the alarmed back-up who take positions and size her up, a hair away from a chaotic choice. " she's alright! she's fine, ais, you're okay, i'm sorry, let me explain-- "
" where the hell are they?! " she's releasing him, brushing past the others like flies, when she sees a familiar face emerging from the rubble of the diner. " woo-- "
" alright, let's all just take a second... jones, we found seven of the kids. they're fine, they're unharmed. well... eli dislocated an arm, but-- "
" i have eight children. "
" ... you still do, yes. but aisling, we... we need to talk about that-- "
" what... " she's not sure which way is up anymore. jimmy has an arm outstretched, but her gaze is fixed on the destruction around them. blackened bricks. scorched rubble. veins of darkness that spiral across the tarmac. metal lampposts twisted and contorted. her fingertips catch on a piece of lightly melted tinsel, flames reflecting against the cheap gleam of the plastic. " who's missing? " nobody answers her. nobody wants to say it. her hands curl into tight fists, and she turns, eyes filled with tears of heartbreak and rage and disbelief. " who did he take, woo? "
" well... that's just it, jones. aisling... mister kelly was not responsible for this. they did. they fled shortly after, and... there's something else you should know. "
" you're not making any sense; you mean one of my kids did this? one of my kids melted concrete and levelled a four storey building? "
" please. aisling-- "
" aisling. " the voice alone drives her stomach into the ground. he's standing in the hazy smoke, soot and dust staining the holy collar, black shirt crumpled from the madness. oisín. the boy who forgot. the man who remembers. the lost-and-found brother who opens out his arms, and places her in a gentle, feather-light embrace. " i need you to listen now... "
" no. " her voice betrays the full measure of fear and devastation that besieges her heart. but he won't let her pull away; he holds her tighter, and places a gentle hand on the back of her head, voice thick with tears.
" he's gone, ais. i'm sorry-- "
" shut up, shut up, don't you-- oisín, please, please-- "
" he's dead. "
she's crying, and her legs give out beneath her, but he holds her upright, forcing her to bear it all. " don't do this- "
but he has to.
and so he does.
" stanley's dead. "
#drabble.#death tw#death mention tw#( i'll say this tho: it's not what it seems )#( that's all u get )#( also like )#( it's not an event that happens NOW )#( this actually happens in april but i want to set it up for u <3 )#( just to show the stakes and the themes )#( plus it's so important to me that aisling isn't the only main character )#( the moving pieces and parts and players in this are all so vital )#( and also i got angsty while listening to hoz.ier so this is the drabble )
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BLINDSIDED !!
send BLINDSIDED for a scene from my muse's past in which they were betrayed or shocked by what someone did
There are two men pinning him down by his ankles and by his wrists.
The sky is clear and the air is cold, and the grass he's been forced down into is certainly preferable to the abrasive rock that forms their land. A little ways off, there are people he knows - a farmhand and his girlfriend, both skirting eighteen. They keep their heads carefully turned away from him, despite Leifur's hissing and screaming. One of the men snarls him to shut up, and Leifur spits at him.
It is the fucking Norwegians, this is their doing. Leifur liked Tór, despite - he understood now - their initial meeting being an invasion. Tór gave him food. Deep down — despite failing to understand the intricacies of their existence, nor the political plays that these mortals weaponise — Leifur does not wish to believe that this is Tór's fault. It is the people, the Norwegian people, who came here to conquer and to pillage. Under Tór's instruction, yes, and yet...
Could Tór stop this, if he so wished? Could the Góðar?
It is King Olaf who sent Stefnir, King Olaf who sent Thangbrand to the Góðar, King Olaf who - now - has taken several of his people hostage in Norway. It is King Olaf threatening to take their life, should Iceland not convert.
He is aware, too, that the Góðar speak endlessly about Norway. That's all they ever seem to talk about: Norway, Norway, Norway. Friends, that's what they are, and they have to stay that way. It is because of Olaf. No decisions are ever made without the King's presence looming. He doesn't understand why, but he doesn't understand a lot of things. He thinks King Olaf is evil, and he cannot understand why his countrymen simply bow their heads to him. After all — is he not mortal, too?
"Fuck you," he hisses at the men, jerking his wrists against the restraints — ineffectually. Few men would be so heinous as to treat a child this way, but Leifur is no mortal child. He is an immortal boy, physically only five or six — but right now he is a rabid animal, the explosive embodiment of all the great fires of their land. He unleashes a barrage of curses a boy of his age should certainly not know, and he attempts to bite at one man's wrist. "Fuck you! You don't care about Sturla. You never cared about Sturla!"
"You don't even fucking know Sturla, boy."
Leifur spits at him again, then throws his head back against the ground and screams.
His countrymen all know him as a strange boy, coming and going as wildly as the winds of their homelands — and behaving just as erratically. His presence tends to inspire a variety of reactions: some find him endearing, while some find him offputting. They all find him familiar, though, even those he has never met before. He is, after all, the land they walk on and the water they drink. Regardless of how they may find him, he will be exist as they born and as they die.
"Stefnir destroyed everything!"
"And Stefnir is never coming back here."
"And now they've taken Sturla, your 'friend'. Coward!"
The man's chest heaves with rage, and for a moment he looks ready to strike the boy. "You question my fortitude as a man?"
Leifur stops thrashing momentarily to hold the man's gaze, violet eyes all but coring the man from the inside. "I don't question it. You are a coward."
Finally, the man grabs his hair and slams the boy's head back into the earth. Leifur doesn't seem to care or even really react, continuing, "And everyone who Thangbrand got are cowards!"
So, this boy is nothing more than a heathen, is he? It is unusual for one so young - and so isolated - to feel so strongly against the Christians. It was easier to understand it from the farmhands or the sons of the Góðar, but this boy who simply roams, who exists outside the bounds of their society? He doesn't even engage with the Góðar as he should. He may be their land, but he is disrespectful — a lucky little boy who does not know to appreciate what he has. It is infuriating, listening to him whine about the King and the political affairs he takes no interest in. Many of the Góðar are displeased, of course — but law is law, and blood is blood.
"You speak ill of the King and he will have your head, child."
"At least my head won't be bowed. I'm not a coward."
#in character.#drabble.#violence /#OHOHOHOHOH I HAD TO DO SOMETHING WITH THE CHRISTIANISATION OF ICELAND#So for context the Norwegian King sent missionaries to get Iceland to convert#Stefnir (an Icelander serving the Norwegian crown) came in and was an asshole in his attempts and got outlawed for it#So then King Olaf sent Thangbrand who actually did manage to convert a few Góðar#(Góðar being the ruling cheiftains at the time)#But then when Thangbrand had limited success beyond these guys the King took a bunch of Icelanders living in Norway hostage#and threatened to kill them if Iceland didn't convert (Sturla - a hostage - in this drabble)#So Leifur feels betrayed by Tór (Norway himself) - King Olaf - and his own people who just bowed their heads#This is set between the time of all this happening and the next meeting of the Alþingi - at which time a decision was made +#by the Góði of ljósavatn (who was the law speaker for the Alþingi and was deemed level headed etc) that Iceland should indeed convert +#but with some exceptions to Pagan practices: the exposure of infants and the consumption of horsemeat#Leifur also probably got in wild trouble at the next meeting of the Alþingi bc he questioned the morals of many men lol#and he keeps using the word coward specifically bc that was like a HUUUUGE insult back in the day. Questioning one's bravery was BAD BAD BA#THANK YOU THIS WAS SO FUN
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What if we never find peace? What if we never find a way out of here? What if we are all ghosts in the making? These are the thoughts that flood the forefront of Ben’s head as he races through the turmoil that clutches him like a vice, guilt seeping into his bones as he peers onward to the stone grave mark, harboring a symbol rather than a name. Back then, the people of the town thought that the symbol would trap the spirit to their graves. If only they knew that it simply made the ghosts stronger.
There’s a cautious glance that is thrown over his shoulder, eyes taking in the dark abyss of the night surrounding him. His hand curls tighter around the handle of the shovel, the metal pointed end seeping into the fresh dirt as he continues to dig. The ever-looming stone that remains at the end of the hole serves as a warning: he is committing a crime. But what most do not know: he is saving lives.
When he hears the finality thud of the end, he recognizes the sound to be a signal that he has reached the casket. Tossing the shovel topside, he grunts in mild pain as he leans forward to pry the rotting wood loose, revealing the skeleton inside.
Thankfully, the smell has dissipated into nothingness since flesh no longer clings to the bones of the deceased, eaten away by the earth’s creatures long ago. Ben swallows thickly as he looks at the jaw unhinged from the socket, almost looking as though the skeleton is screaming out at him, but no sound comes out. Only thing he hears is the barely there whistle of leaves from the rustle of trees around him.
He sighs softly at the sight in front of him when he climbs back to the earth’s surface, wishing that there was some way that ghosts can get the peace that they so desperately claw for. It’s why they are tethered to this world, unable to move on from their sudden and gruesome death. It’s unforgiving, polluting the world with lingering souls that just doesn’t know how to let go, and instead promises death and destruction to others around them.
At some point in their lives, they were alive and human. They had memories. They had family, a life, a history that wasn’t embolden by newspaper clippings of their untimely death.
Ben takes out a salt container and starts to shake it over the remains of the body, covering the skeleton in a thin layer of sodium. When he starts to pour the gasoline, it begins to remind him eerily of when he was a kid and he would drizzle caramel over ice cream. He mourns the innocence and childlike wonder that he, at the time, so desperately wanted to be rid of. Now Ben wishes that he held onto it just a little while longer.
With a finality to the curse, he takes a pair of matches and scratches the end along the edges of the container, watching as it catches light, and a flame engulfs the tip. Earthly hues flits over the entirety of the coffin once more, and with a soft exhale, he tosses the flame inside the hole, and watches as it engulfs in flames.
#drabble.#i did this while i was high; oops fndjsfjdksfNJFNDSKJFNSJDK.#but my friends and i have been on a spn rewatch since she has never seen it and i have been rewatching it with her.#and the aesthetics of s1-3 is just so! unmatched!#esp s1!
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