S

REGGIE

       THIS WASN’T NORMAL.  you didn’t know what the two of you were. what us meant.  but you liked it that way. no questions, no expectations    . just. living.      you normally didn’t care, but it lingered in your mind. you came to the door, having risked life on inebriated driving. in an upset that wouldn’t subside even in the isolation of your room. a distraction is what you were after and you found sanctuary. parents that seemed …  as  absent as his. a feat unknown. she had you twisted, not around her finger but around rationale. the sheets made you itchy alone. just knowing they weren’t yours so you talk to the moon like you always have as a kid and ask her what she thinks. looking over the shitshow of a town they lived in before spotting her figure shortly after hearing a sliding door. 

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      he always did love a good scare. it’s where his pranking career began at the prime age of ten. he loved the element of surprise and the power of spiking fear.  quite the complex.  cracking a smile at most recent victim. before response.    ❝         𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙚 𝙧𝙤𝙗𝙚.    looks good on you.  really driving home the lavender aesthetic.   ❞   elbows rest on the balcony of his own — even his place didn’t have one, let alone two — focused on her. a chuckle under his breath, looking over the edge for a while.  ❝   can’t sleep.  same as you, seems like.    ❞  thinking about you. wondering why you care.  

            𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐋𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐔𝐏 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐌. It’s racing was half scare, and half the undeniable effect of a bedraggled Reggie Mantle, and the way he looks soaked in moonlight, like something off the cover of her mom’s Harlequin novels, the same ones she called a GUILTY PLEASURE but read more often than anything else. She swallows, now aware to the dry quality of her throat; her voice cracking softly in response, the brittle creak of a door opening for the first time in a long time. ❛ I try. ❜ 

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❛ It’s… been like this for a few days. ❜ A restless energy to do something, make something or be something. A deep and guttural loneliness and a need to be held, and to hold. DISSATISFACTION. And for what? She has everything! Everything Daphne could ever want! It’s all there, at her beck and call. But, maybe that’s why? Things never taste as sweet when they’re handed to you. ❛ I just- I hate being inside myself sometimes. ❜

  1. dangeress reblogged this from divainity-a3
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  3. divainity-a3 said: she’s so cute I—
  4. divainity-a3 said: JEEEPERS