#but there's nothing wrong with these two untrained pieces

[prsk2dmv-transparents]

Revival my dream untrained Rui and Nene card transparents. Posting these here for easy access for any editors who may want a younger Rui or Nene. The rest of the set will not be posted, but there's no problem with these two transparents. They're just child Rui and child Nene, and I wish we could've gotten specifically these two in EN as like... special 2* cards or something. No trained version, just the children

[pellucid-constellations]

Creature Fear

And if had been clean, if there had been no strings between you, this would have been easy. But, with Azriel, you had never expected the strings to disappear. They would always be there—at least, they would for you.

An angsty piece inspired by Creature Fear by Bon Iver (2.3k words)

~~

With another kick slamming into the muscle along the Shadowsinger’s thigh, you heaved in a breath that assaulted your lungs. It burned and tasted of iron as you panted, but that was simply the natural flow of training.

This was fine. 

Everything was fine. 

You weren’t picturing Azriel with his hands on her waist, swaying to the rhythm of a song you couldn’t recall. You weren’t replaying how his lips touched her ear or how his fingers tilted her jaw to the side. No part of your brain was rehashing the smile she sent him, an expression given just moments before he led her out of Rita’s. 

No, you weren’t thinking of the events the night prior as you swung at the man before you. 

He ducked—a pity, really. 

“Something on your mind?” Azriel asked, words rushed as he moved around your attempted hits. 

You grunted. “No. I’m training. That’s why you dragged me out here.” 

“Right.” 

Another jab at his face. He dodged it. You used your leg to sweep at his ankles. 

“Are you even going to try?” you goaded, frustration creeping into your tone. 

Azriel hopped back in the ring, but when you only followed his escape, he released an impatient sigh and grabbed at your shoulders, flipping you until your back met the ground with a soft groan. 

“What’s the matter?” he huffed out above you. “You’re antsy. Your moves are sloppy and you really seem to want to hit me.” 

“I have hit you.” 

“Y/n,” Azriel warned. 

You ticked your jaw to the side, still out of breath as his chest pressed to yours. This was not an unusual position for the two of you. In fact, it was a position you had found yourself in just last week, only there was far less anger and far more pillows. And it had been dark—quite romantic if anyone had asked you, but no one was asking you. 

Because the relationship between you and the Shadowsinger was not public knowledge, and it certainly was not exclusive. No strings, Azriel had said against your mouth when you had come together the first time. And then it was we’re just blowing off steam and only one more time and we can’t tell anyone. It was unclear why Azriel needed a concrete reason to sleep with you each time he did it, but the underlying message was clear: you were not in a relationship. 

It was just sex. 

And sure, that was fine the first time—maybe even the second and third. But you had been lying to yourself when you agreed to the arrangement in between heavy breaths and rushed fingers. Azriel was not something you could do halfway, and you knew that from the start. You’d been half in love with him from the moment you met him. This had only been the nail in the coffin. 

“Get off of me,” you demanded with forearms pressing into Azriel’s chest. 

He was unrelenting. “No. Tell me what’s wrong with you.” 

“Nothing’s wrong. You’re crushing my ribs. Get off.” 

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well, luckily, believing me has nothing to do with your ability to get off of me.” 

Azriel traced his eyes along each dip and high point of your face with a scrutinizing gaze before he finally heaved himself up, landing in a seat beside you. You sucked in a dramatic breath and propped yourself up on your palms. 

“Is it something to do with the information Rhys is having you decode?” Azriel asked, tucking his knee in the crook of his elbow. 

The side of your mouth twitched as heat licked up your throat. “No. Azriel, I told you everything’s fine. I was just trying something new Cassian wanted me to practice.” 

“Cassian wanted you to practice being reckless and untrained?” 

“That was incredibly rude.” 

Azriel breathed out a semblance of a laugh. You heard his wings shift as you kept your eyes trained on the floor, but that reprieve was short-lived as a hand met the curve of your jaw. Azriel pressed at the skin there until your gaze was level with his, and then he continued his search.

You humored him—for a moment—allowing your friend to furrow his brows at the distance you were trying to create between the two of you. 

“Tell me what’s wrong.” 

“Azriel, noth—” 

“Stop lying to me,” he interrupted, sliding his hand back until his fingers wove into the hair at the base of your neck. “I know you. Something’s wrong.” 

Your chest was beginning to feel fuzzy and the heat in your throat had melted into a blissful warmth. It was always so easy to be around Azriel, and it would be just as easy to lean forward and whisper that against his lips. Since that line had been crossed all those months ago, you had been tempted to take what you wanted several times. 

But those liberties were only afforded to you in the dark aperture that was Azriel’s room. He only touched you like this when no one else was around, saving the gentleness of his fingers in the public eye for strangers in pleasure halls and nightclubs. 

You were nothing like the girl he took home the night before. She had probably woken with him wrapped in orange morning light when you were always scampering away in the bleak blues and greys that made up the middle of the night. She was probably soft and delicate and not training for battle at the crack of dawn. 

No, to Azriel, you were only a friend and you were convenient. 

You knocked his hand away. “I told you I’m fine, Azriel. I’m just having an off day. Leave it alone.” 

Azriel, who had flinched when the back of your hand met his arm, opened his mouth to speak without sound to follow. You were already on your feet by the time he could have formulated a response.

~~

You hadn’t spoken to him in three days. 

Three days of avoiding every room he frequented. Three days of avoiding his shadows as they attempted to beckon you to the training ring, the kitchens, and the balcony where he would inevitably get you to go into town with him. Three days of driving yourself insane. 

This was always going to end poorly, but you hadn’t expected you to feel so angry. Hurt, yes, but anger was not something typically in your repertoire—especially not associated with Azriel. 

The way he touched that woman played on a loop in your mind, reminding you how it had been so easy for him to do that in front of so many eyes. That, unlike you, there was no shame accompanied by his lazy fingers. He had touched you with those same hands, with that same tenderness, just the morning after—but no one was around to see it. 

It did hurt, but it was also infuriating. 

Maybe the angry heat was just a placeholder for the pain, something easier to digest, but you didn’t care to parse out the origin.

On the fourth day of stewing in your frustration, you were ending the night in bed with a candle and a book you could hardly focus on, reading and then rereading the same page as your jaw sat sewn together. 

The knock on your door was unexpected and unwelcomed

You didn’t have it in you to speak to him. 

You opened the door despite that. 

The man on the other side looked shocked for a moment, blinking as the wind from your arrival hit his eyes, and then he looked restless, bringing his hands up as if you were about to slam the door in his face. 

“Can I come in?” he asked, eyes darting over your shoulder to your bedroom and then back to you. “I know you’re avoiding me. I miss you. Let me come in.” 

“I’m not—” 

“Please, y/n.” 

His tone, rushed and panicked, made your brows come together. You opened the door a fraction wider to let him in. He stepped forward three times and then remained in place as you turned to close the door behind you. When you turned to face him once more, your senses were overwhelmed. 

Your back was pressed to the wood and familiar hands pressed divots into the skin of your waist. Azriel was kissing you—not hurried as he usually was when you met for these reasons, but almost savoring the feel of you against him. In your shock, your hands had landed on his chest, fisting his sweater between your fingers. Having him here, like this, distracted you for a moment. 

It felt natural. 

It was good. 

When Azriel deepened the kiss, you snapped back to your anger, remembering the sly way he had guided that woman out of Rita’s. You flattened your palms against his chest and pushed, hard. The Shadowsinger stumbled back with wild eyes, and it was then you saw the state of him. His rumpled clothes and the way his hair stood up as if he’d been running his fingers through it. The rings he typically wore were each missing from his fingers and he was completely unarmed, not even the Truthteller strapped at his hip. 

“I—I shouldn’t have done that,” Azriel spoke, clearing his throat as he ran his hand along his jaw. “You’re angry at me. I came in here to ask—I wanted to make it right. I didn’t mean to—” 

“Azriel, stop. I’m not angry at you.” A lie. You were angry at him, but there were no grounds to be. You straightened out your posture and fixed your nightgown where he had wrinkled it with his fingers. “We don’t… do it this way. I come to your room.” 

“I haven’t seen you in four days,” Azriel reasoned. “I miss you. I said that.” 

You ground your teeth together, unable to look him in the eye. “I’m sure I’m not the only woman in Velaris that could warm your bed.” 

Azriel stuttered over his words before replying, “That’s not what I meant. You’re—You are my friend and I miss you because you have gone to lengths to avoid me. I would like to know why.” 

Your gaze flashed up at the crack in his voice. He stood with his palms open to you, his arms hanging by his sides. 

“Friends don’t do what we were doing. Things are different between us now, Azriel.” 

“They don’t have to be. We agreed—no strings.” 

Anger grew and festered. They don’t have to change because he wouldn’t want them to. He would want a woman like the one at the pleasure hall. He would want anyone but you. 

You crossed your arms over your chest, feeling equal parts unfair and justified. “Because the world works exactly how you want it to, doesn’t it, Azriel?” 

He paused, his pleading expressed now dumbfounded. “What?” 

“You just get to have your pick of women each night and if none of them work out you know I’ll be waiting at home for you? That your friend will be available if all of the women you’ll actually acknowledge in front of our family aren’t interested?” 

“No, I—” 

“I’m not some backup plan, Azirel. What, no one else available tonight? Did you happen to round on the Archeron sisters as well? I’m last again, right?” 

As the words spewed from your mouth, you knew you would come to regret them. Azriel looked more and more confused and affronted at each accusation you made, but this was easier than crying and professing your love. Azriel had said no strings attached, and if you couldn’t avoid love, he would have to deal with anger. That was an easier string to sever.

“We’re stopping this, if that wasn’t obvious.” 

Azriel’s breath seemed to escape his lungs in one fell swoop. He took a step forward and shook his head. “Is this about that night at Rita’s? Y/n, I would never have—” 

“No, you said no strings, right?” you bit out. “So you’re allowed to do whatever and whoever you want. This has nothing to do with that. I’m just… I’m just done.”

Gods, you weren’t making sense. Why had he kissed you when he walked in? You felt like you were going to cry and that was not something you wanted to do in front of him. “Okay, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Azriel almost begged. He looked ruined and so tired. “We can go back to how it was before.” The prospect seemed to pain him. “Just—tell me how to fix this between us. I can’t… lose you. Not to this.” 

“There’s nothing to fix,” you lied. “Let’s just—let’s just stop.” 

“Okay. Okay, we can stop and—” 

“And you need to get out.” 

Azriel blinked at you, brows furrowed. “But we still—Y/n, I want to talk about this.” 

There was an incongruence in the way he was looking at you. If it had just been about sex, this would have been simple, clean. For you, it would have hurt, but for Azriel, it would have been a small variable being removed. But he was looking at you as if the world was ending, and you couldn't comprehend that. 

He had been holding another woman earlier this week. 

His hands twitched now. 

He needed to leave before you cried.

“Get out, Azriel.”

[emmyc0z]

Sephiroth X Stressed!Reader

pairing : sephiroth x stressed!reader

cw : none!

a/n : i have ZERO motivation but i’ve gotten a few requests for more sephiroth fics. please accept this as a peace offering until i write something real!

divider by @cursed-carmine

you’ve been short with him. frustrated by tight deadlines and a constant lack of satisfaction in your work. and you’ve been taking it out on him.

probably not the best choice on your part considering, while appearing placid, calm and imperturbable to the untrained eye, he does not possess an easygoing personality.

despite this fact about him, he humours you and allows you to snap at him again and again.

“sephiroth, stop lurking behind me. god, i can’t work with you breathing down my neck!”

“can’t you read somewhere else? the flipping of your pages is driving me insane, i can’t focus like this!”

“no! for the fourth time, sephiroth, i am not hungry! stop asking me! leave me alone so i can get this done.”

and of course, he’s feeding off your energy. frustration growing the longer you brush him off. jaw tensing, teeth clenching tight to keep his tongue from slipping and saying something that will only make things worse.

he can’t help that, as much as it curdles his stomach to think, he cares about you. more than any living thing on this planet.

and to see you hunched over your little computer screen, eye getting so heavy that they droop, hair messy and unkempt, fingers tapping anxiously against the surface of the wooden living room coffee table when they aren’t viciously typing away against the laptops plastic keys, its pains him.

you won’t eat. so he can’t bring himself to enjoy a meal. forcing himself to cook for two every night, even though he knows you won’t eat, and inevitably packing both portions into plastic containers after sitting at the table for over an hour, picking at his food.

you won’t go to sleep. so he tosses and turns in your shared bed at night, a bed that once felt too small to fit the two of you without squishing together now feeling like a lonely, open valley of space, knowing that if he comes out to get you it’ll only start an argument. which is the last thing you need, he knows.

you won’t put down the computer. so he tries to invade you’re space in the living room, just to be close to you, he doesn’t even want to talk. but the slightest shift in his breathing makes you angry. which is why he doesn’t stay for long.

and then, one night when he returns from work, you finally let him in again.

he enters the living room to find you're computer in pieces beside the table, while you gasp for breath behind your hands, body racked with sobs.

sephiroth would drop everything, rushing to your side, on his knees beside your defeated body. gentle hands on your arms pulling your palms away from your face.

he has fought thousands of creatures, ugly and terrifying, and still nothing has made him feel the fear that he feels upon seeing you’re teary face. the disappointment in himself that he did not, could not, prevent this.

a pit forms in his stomach and a compulsion to care, a need to show he’s there, that he has been there the entire time, fills every fiber of his being.

his warm hands would cup your face, the rough pads of his thumbs wiping the wet streams of tears off your cheeks. softly saying you’re name.

he is unsure if he’s any good at comforting. he’s never had to do it before. he’s not used to this. but he’s trying and for that you appreciate him more than he knows.

“what’s wrong, my love? hm? i was only gone for a few hours, what happened?”

“this stupid deadline! my boss thinks i’m some sort of robot or something.. i- i couldn’t handle it. i just got so frustrated and.. and i threw the computer. which i see now.. only makes things worse. god, i’m so stupid” you can only bury your face back in your hands, more sobs leaving your tired body.

“don’t say that. you’re not stupid, don’t talk about yourself that way” he gently pries your hands from your face.

he’s not a big talker. he’s not good with his emotions. so he makes you feel better in his own, quieter way.

he’d clean up the computer. even though you insist he doesn’t, he still would. and he’d even offer to buy a new computer for you, what else would he do with he soldier salary.

he would sit on the couch with you, holding you in his strong arms until you’ve finally settled. offering quiet words of reassurance, reminders that’s he still there even if he’s not very talkative.

when you try to rectify the way you had spoken to him earlier in the week, explain your shortness, your irritability, he would shake his head and tell you he’s already forgotten. he knows “his girl was just stressed.”

and he won’t leave your side again. he’s known distance between you for less than a week and he never wants it again. so he stays planted by your side the next time you decide to work, planting gentle kisses to your hand which he keeps firmly held in his despite your protests about how you need both to type.

he’s not the touchiest, certainly not the feeliest, but he tries for you.

[gumballofshame]

Only For Coffee 

Bucky x reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: ...I got sad so you will too...brief mention of hydra + related happenings

Author’s Note: Long time reader, first time writer. My goal is for no one to read this actually, I just really got into my feelings and desperately needed to share how I was doing. Yeah, well - here ya go. Honestly, if anyone does read this I do love you xo ps if the formatting is wrong, im sorry ive never done this

Song: Coffee by Chappell Roan

Four months. The hardest four months at that. His smile, his touch, his hand against my skin. How time can fly when you’re drowning your sorrows in the depths of your empty bedroom. At some point your days blend together, you ignore the calls coming from your phone, or the ting from your phone interrupting the silence you’ve created. All you can think is him. Him. Him.

 What could I have done so incorrectly to lead to the present? Had I pushed him past his breaking point? Had he pushed me past mine? 

The emptiness forming around you grows thicker and more pronounced as you wait for the time to pass against you.

You think and think, how can one man control all your thoughts and emotions without saying a single word in your direction? Being around him in meetings and missions was fine, you could be a professional. You were trained to push your emotions aside and focus on important tasks. 

The difficult part was always when you both were alone in the middle of the night. Nightmares repeating day after day, causing the both of you to make your way into the open space of the kitchen. Searching for something to drown out the memories and the fear. If the pain from the distance grown between the both of you wasn’t strong enough, the unspoken words would’ve pooled out of every crevice known. Yet, there he sits. Pushed against the island. He just sits and stares. To an untrained eye, one would think aloud how he can fall asleep with his eyes open, staring at nothing. To you? You knew the stare. You knew the pain and the torture behind the stare. How could you not? You have lived the same story. The same fear, the same torture–you matched him and he matched you. 

As you enter the common space off the elevator, months of pent up emotions and anguish swim the space lying between you and him as they do every time you catch each other in the early hours. Would today be the day either of you speak? Not one word has been spoken between the two of you in months, could today be the day? You slowly make your way over towards the kitchen area searching for a usable glass to fill with water. You pause as you watch Bucky slowly take breaths and stare into the open space.

Deciding against the trouble of a glass, you reach into the fridge to gather a bottle of water along with an easy snack. You feel the energy shift around the room as a pair of eyes burrow into the side of your head. He is always there. Just staring. It’s all he has become accustomed to do. Stare, gather, and analyze. At the end of it all, you would only be a crucial piece of data storming the eyes of the previous Winter Soldier. You can’t escape the coolness behind his emotionless eyeline. To be in love is one thing, to be in love with a man who can’t love you but rather analyze you is another.

You turn your body to face him, pain stretched across your face as you attempt to understand. You stare back. No thoughts, just him and the space he consumed. The whole world melts away as you scan between his eyes, searching for the person who once told you they love you. He isn’t there. He’s not on vacation, not taking a sabbatical. There isn’t any evidence the man you thought you knew had ever taken ownership behind his eyes. In the quiet room in the odd hours of the night there just sits two people, history and pain etched into the surface of the counter between them as they stare. Two souls, two bottles of water, four eyes, and one broken heart. 

Without missing a beat, you lower your head and take a deep breath before making your way back towards the elevator. Away from the cold behind the blue eyes you fell in love with. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bucky. Bucky. Bucky.

You toss and turn all night, alone in the bed with a permanent empty space to the left of you. It’s been 5 months since you’ve spoken last, since he decided to give up trying to make it work. Even longer since he last held you in his arms. Here you are tonight, alone in the space where he studied you, learned every movement and what they meant. All your mind can drift to is the way his eyes would shine into yours as you held each other close. It was for nothing. The horrors you escaped hand in hand, none of it mattered. Would returning to the empty, cold cell be any different than being silent in the warmth brought by the tower? You were free from experimentation and free from being beaten, but you were never able to escape the memory of his lips pressing against yours.

You sit up from your sleep, breathing heavily as you remember how he would ease your mind after every nightmare. This night is no different. Every night is the same, it has been since he turned his back away from you. You search the bed with an open hand only feeling empty space beside you, remembrance of the man who you once shared your life with. 

With a heavy sigh you look around your nightstand to see the red glow show 5:47 AM. A perfectly normal time to rise from bed and start a training session without turning any heads. With the mental confirmation of the start of your day, you retreat from your bed heading over to the bathroom tucked away in the corner of your bedroom. You start the daily routine driven in your skull. Brush your teeth. Wash your face. Look presentable and ready to fight when necessary. You grab your phone and tuck it into the pocket of your leggings, heading out of your room and down to the gym level. 

It takes time to heal a broken heart and today you will continue your journey. One step at a time, one foot in front of another, until you no longer think of him rescuing you from your night terrors or until you can speak in his direction. For today, you just need to focus on the routine. Wake, train, eat, work, and disappear into the void created in mind. Repeat, repeat, repeat. 

You make your way onto the gym floor, already hearing the grunt of the other members up and training in the early morning. You had almost wished to stay in bed longer, pick a time later in the day to train on your sore muscles. You really had almost wished the previous mission took you out cold and you didn’t have to continue the vicious cycle of needing to improve every muscle and every fight. You only wanted to disappear into nothingness with no one to catch you fall. Your legs kick into gear as you force yourself to walk to the treadmill to start with the daily habit.

While running your mind picks up bits and pieces of conversation from the passing people training. New mission details, old drama, new relationships forming through the tower. But your mind stays stuck to the familiar voice coming from the weight area. Bucky. His voice carries in a regular room, somehow your ears could always catch any sound when he is around. His breathing, the squeaking of his shoes, the sound of metal on metal as he lifts the weights high and low. The old you would have jumped off the treadmill and ran to him as soon as you heard his steady breathing. The new you stays running. Turning off the world around you as you feel your legs burn beneath you.

A new voice breaks you out of your heavy run on the treadmill, causing you to abruptly step off the treadmill.

"Would you like to train with someone? You look like you're running away from someone," 

Steve. Of course it's Steve. He always finds you when you're jogging in the morning, it's another key part of the routine you have created since moving into the tower.

"Oh, yeah. Just doing some cardio to warm up," You try to laugh off being caught stuck in your own mind to the blond man. He knows where your mind goes if you and Bucky are in the same room. He can always tell when you have gone too deep into your own mind and can't find an escape. You reach for the towel placed over your treadmill and dry off the sweat cascading down your forehead and chest. "Do you want to work on weights or work on fighting today, Stevie Boy?"

He offers a small smile at the use of the nickname you gave him, a knowing nod is offered in return as he moves out of your way to give you space to dry off.

"I was thinking we could go over new training modules Fury had sent through to keep us accustomed to both new styles of fighting as well as older styles. Sounds exciting enough for you?" He crosses his arms over each other as he leans against your previously used treadmill

You mirror his casual stance with your hands on your hips with a soft smirk against your lips as you respond to him in a mocking tone. "I don't know, old man. You think you can handle training with me?" You tsk your tongue against the roof of your mouth as you turn and walk towards the large mat positioned in the center of the room. "A little birdy told me you were having issues with your back pain this week. Can't even get out of bed without a groan, who are you?"

Steve gasps in shock with his jaw dropping with a playful push on your arm

“Nat told you! She can never keep one thing just between her and I”

You throw your head back in laughter as you climb onto the training mats with Steve, each of you positioning ourselves in front of the glass barrier to watch the presentations on the screen.

“Hey, I didn’t even ask for this information! She just talks and sometimes doesn’t stop until I walk away from her. It’s nothing to be embarrassed of, Cap. We all get old someday. Me, not so much. But you? Your time was going to come around eventually.” You reply to him with feigned sincerity

He rolls his eyes towards the sky as he stands in front of the glass. “Say whatever you want. My back may be old but I can knock you down six ways from Sunday.”

You press start on the program to begin our training for the day before turning to face him to egg him on even further. 

“Six ways from Sunday, Stevie? Really? I’m going to need some proof to back up your words”

He cast a knowing smirk towards your direction as the demonstration began on the screen. Prove me wrong, he did. And boy, did you regret it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hours later as you limped your way back into the common room after Steve had definitely beaten you down, you took a moment to catch your breath with your back on the wall facing the elevator. Step two of your daily routine has now finished, now onto three. Eating a meal. You turn to finally face the kitchen with a wince in your step as you spot a head of brown hair leaning with his back against the island, looking out the window and lost in thought. Familiar.

You pause your journey to the kitchen for a moment and watch the man you have known for most of your life–watching him enjoy one of his few moments of peace. With the constant craze between missions or battles, you never get the chance to have a moment of pure, unadulterated serenity. Although you have spent hours training with Steve in the lower level of the gym, it is warming to know the man who has been beaten down for the majority of his life can find a moment in the quiet afternoon to watch the birds fly around. Almost humorous to think of the formerly known Winter Soldier, World War II hero turned assassin, taking a moment out of his day to enjoy the soft caused by the rising day.

Breaking the barrier of the room, you make your way over to the fridge and start to take out the ingredients to create yourself a full breakfast. Eggs, sausage, and hashbrowns. A simple breakfast that is quick and can get you away from the rising tension that will be caused when Bucky notices you have entered the space he has created. 

As if you had summed it on cue, you see Bucky’s body tense against the counter as you make your way through creating your breakfast. As most days where it is the two of you sharing the kitchen, neither of you dare to make a sound. The tense silence always seems to plague the surrounding walls if you two are in a room together without a buffer to lead any conversation. 

You finish making your breakfast, grabbing a drink from the fridge as well as you make your way to sit on the opposite end of the island bar that seats Bucky. You try to be quiet and respect his space as you take a corner away from his world and begin to eat your food in this silence of the early afternoon.

Off to the side of you, you can hear the rise and fall of his voice. Not expecting any sound to break the silence created in the common room you release a small sigh and continue eating your breakfast. Expecting a contrasting voice to the opposite side of you to respond to whatever Bucky might be speaking on, though he is not much of a talker to anyone. Through no surprise, there is no comment in return. 

You hear his voice rise again, almost a whisper, call out your name. 

Immediately at the sound of your name against his lips for the first time in almost half a year, your eyes force themselves off of the plate of food to look up to him with your eyebrows furrowing together. He’s talking to me.

“Did you hear what I asked?” Bucky calls out your name again, asking with a slight tilt in his head, waiting for an answer.

You stare back at Bucky like a deer caught in headlights, causing him to stumble over his next words with a small lift in the corners of his mouth.

“I-I asked if you would like to go to a new cafe I found down the street. We haven’t spoken in months and I would like to buy you a coffee,” Something is new with the sound of Bucky’s voice. Something you haven’t heard in months since you two separated. He was scared. Of rejection, of you, of having his moment of courage to open up be shot down. His eyes dart around your face, searching for any sign of discomfort that may be caused by him.

You slowly blink your eyes at him, trying to wrap your head around the idea that not only is Bucky currently speaking to you but is also inviting you to coffee. Why? You finally turn and face him with your hand coming up to brush against your eyes in confusion.

“M-me? You’re asking me if I want to try a new cafe with you? What?” Your confusion is sketched along your face, attempting to make sense of both Bucky talking in your direction.

“Yes, is that okay? It’s new and I know you always liked to try new coffee places with me,” He responds with more information to attempt to convince you to speak to him and spend a lazy moment with him

You nod in response before finishing the bite of food within your mouth. “Yes, we can get coffee. That’s okay. Just need to clean up and get ready, is that okay?”

He offers a grunt in response with his hands shifting against the edge of the island in anticipation. “Of course, doll. Take your time. I’ll send you the address to the cafe in a bit, just let me know when you’re ready.” You try to control your heart rate as you hear how easily he is able to speak to you after months of silence, as you sit in your seat trying not to crumble towards the floor.

“That would be great. Thank you, James. I’ll finish up now.” As you move to start cleaning up the mess you had created in the kitchen from your breakfast. you offer him a small grin and raise your eyebrows. Exiting the kitchen you take a moment to stare at the back of Bucky’s body once again, thinking over how 5 months of silence can end in one moment with just a simple request of coffee. 

“It’s only just coffee. I can do coffee,” You whisper to yourself as you exit the kitchen to make yourself more presentable for getting coffee with Bucky

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You make your way into the cafe Bucky had requested you meet him out, just a few blocks away from the tower. You both order your coffee and make your way to a secluded and quiet section of the cafe. 

Silence passes over the both of you as you sit in a booth in the corner of the cafe. Two souls, two cups of coffee, and one broken heart.

No words need to be spoken when years of survival and months of heartache lay beneath the surface. Minutes pass with his light eyes burning holes in your irises, the silence growing in the space between you both is both inviting and frightening. For the first time in months, you’re the one who breaks the barrier of silence protecting both your heart and his sanity.

“You can’t look at me like that anymore, James,” I whisper with the side of my head pressed against the wall, trying to ground my sanity in the quiet cafe.  “You haven’t spoken to me in months and you expect me to know what’s going on in your head? Talk to me. Please, James”

The sound of his deep inhale nearly shocks you against the wall. Finally, a reaction. His eyes swim with uncertainty as he hears and understands the pleading in your voice, needing more than what he has offered.

“I can’t talk to you anymore,” he whispers your name like it has pained him to mention aloud to the cafe around you

You throw your hands down to the table in disbelief, almost annoyance. For months since you two parted, the most interaction you have shared is sitting at the same table during a meeting, fighting against the enemy during an operation, or the silent moments in the middle of the night when you both need to disappear. 

Here you are wanting, begging, for any sort of explanation for the silence growing between you both. You have become defeated. 

“Why am I here, James? If not to talk, then what? So you’re not alone? What could it be?”

He takes a pause, trying to understand the micro expressions drifting across your face as you attempt to decide whether to stay or to leave Bucky alone in the booth. 

"What do you want from me, Bucky?"

"I want you to stay," the tension grows stronger between the both of you as your eyes close against his words and your head drops parallel to the table, bringing the coffee cup to rest between your shaking hands.

"All I know is I want you to stay. Just don't go. I don't want to talk, I just want you. Quiet, loud, annoying, honest. I just want you, all of you." From across the table you can hear the faint sound of metal shifting against his coffee mug as he attempts to burn his words with his coffee. "Just don't leave yet, please. Just stay."

"Why?" You turn your head up towards his blue eyes, looking for any possible answer to the questions swarming in my chest. "Why abandon me just to stare in silence? What am I to you?"

His flesh hand fiddles with the ridges on the back of his metal hand as his mind warps against himself, what was the reason he wanted you to stay besides just to know you're here? After nearly a year of silence, how can a simple string of words make up for the past?

His voice barely registers to your ears over a whisper, “I just need you around, doll. I’ve never been a man of words and it’s even more difficult now. I can’t live in a world where I can’t reach out and touch you when I want you closer.”

“I can never wrap my head around your intentions. You’re consistent, I’ll give you that. Consistent in the way you keep me confused, always at your door begging for more out of you when you so easily turn away from me. Where are you when I need you?” 

Hearing my words bounce against the coffee cups between us, Bucky continues lightly tapping against the rim of his mug as he thinks harder. Looking for the correct words to make you stay in the secluded corner of the cafe with him.

“Before the war, when I was just a teenager, I was good at expressing how I felt. In the short-term, anyway. I knew which words would make sense and which words would keep someone close. I’m no longer that version of myself. I don’t believe I have the capability to be the person you want me to be.”

You let the silence settle between the two of you as you both sit and drink your coffee on separate sides of the booth. The silence becoming an overbearing reminder that even though you saved each other from a life full of torture and pain, you could never come together to make each other make sense. There was always the tension of knowing each other too well, too deeply, that caused a divide.

You are the one who breaks the silence in the cafe for a second time today with a timid voice, betraying all your instincts to protect yourself and run away from the conversation. “I have never asked for you to be more. I have never asked for you to change. My only request was that you let me in, just a sliver. I have lived your life and you have lived mine, the least you can do is offer me a place in your life.”

Sadness is stretched across his face as he takes your sentence word by word, his fist clenching against the coffee cup between his hands. Just trying to find the words to make you fall back into his arms and remove him from the icey world he has created under the disguise of protection. “Please, don’t leave. I want you around. I want all of you, all the time. I have never not wanted a piece of you in my life. I can’t bear living without you, knowing you’re someone who sees me as me. ” He lets his coffee mug bounce against the top of the table as he reaches across to grab your hands in his, yearning to touch any piece of you that he can.

"I can't be around you, Bucky. You've broken my heart time and time again. You know I have lived a long life looking into your eyes without a sound. I'm sorry I can't enjoy the silence you create or the space you let drift between us. Unfortunately, I meant it when I said I will never understand you." You push both his hand off of yours as well as your cup away from you in a hurried manner and grab your bag from the corner of the booth. As you start to rush to remove yourself from the situation and leave the booth you’re sitting in, you feel Bucky’s flesh hand reach out and cradle your wrist. 

"I don't have the words, please, just stay." His eyes are pained as they search through mine, begging doesn't come easily to the former Winter Soldier but he will always try to make you see him. You carefully remove your hand from his hold and move to stand beside the table.

"You've had nearly a year to say those words, any words, Buck. I lived a life before you and I will continue to live one without you. Maybe in another life, but not this one. Goodbye, James"

Two souls, two cups of coffee left on the table, two broken hearts.

As you turn and make your way towards the exit with tears in your eyes you can hear Bucky stand up from the table and call after you. You don't flinch, you don't turn around, you keep walking with tears swallowing your burning face. You only came for coffee. 

... it's never just coffee ...

A/N pt 2: If you could not hate on this and just say ‘oh my god you did so good for your first time writing’ that would be much appreciated. Let a girl experiment with her art, jeez :p

[maxdibert]

https://www.tumblr.com/maxdibert/772735697551589376/in-which-order-would-you-rank-the-four-marauders

I’m curious to know why you’ve categorized each Marauder that way in each moment. Do you really consider Sirius during the Golden Trio era to be better than Remus? Why?

Because Remus Lupin during the Golden Trio era is a total victimist who complains about not having a job, but then when given a chance, he stops taking his medication, putting half the school at risk of death. If things had gone wrong during his transformation, it could have caused havoc. He pretends to be a good, understanding, empathetic guy, but justifies the bullying his friends did to Snape and even makes up theories to justify why Severus might have disliked James, theories completely pulled out of thin air, instead of being true to what he thinks as an adult and independent from his friends and admitting that they were assholes without excuses.

But above all, because Remus is a man who got a girl 13 years younger than him pregnant and then ran off, and on top of that, he has the GALL to play the victim. Sirius could be a jerk, but post-Hogwarts, he never did anything remotely similar. What Remus did to Tonks is something I can’t forgive. He’s the epitome of the “nice guy” who goes around with the poor-me speech, but then he screws you over and bolts at the first chance. Honestly, I can’t stand adult Remus Lupin; they should have neutered him like the untrained dog he was.

As for my choices…

For me, Remus and Peter during school are on somewhat the same level. They are complicit in the bullying by doing nothing and benefit from the protection that comes with being part of the friend group of two powerful boys like James and Sirius, who owe their status to coming from important families with money and strong surnames. But Peter was a sycophantic cheerleader, while Remus stayed more on the sidelines, so for me, Peter is worse in that sense. I mean, Remus still seems like a coward, but at least he didn’t cheer them on.

Sirius doesn’t seem better than James. In fact, I think Sirius was more violent and had more awareness than James. I think James knew there were certain limits (like not letting your werewolf friend kill a classmate), but Sirius is consistent with his context. Sirius grew up in an elitist family mentality where violence and contempt toward anyone considered inferior were justified. He was raised to think he was above others and to justify mistreating others if he thought he had a good reason. He went against his family, which implied going against the pure-blood ideal, but he didn’t shed his prejudices. He dehumanized and mistreated Severus just like any of his relatives would have done to a Muggle. So he simply swapped despising “Mudbloods” for despising Snape, period. I might condemn what Sirius did and think he was a piece of shit, but I understand where his character comes from.

James, no. James supposedly grew up in a functional, progressive family where he was raised with love and good values. He had no reason or justification to be a piece of shit. No one taught him to behave like that, and yet he did it anyway. It’s not just that he has no justification; he doesn’t even have a coherent explanation beyond being a piece of shit just because. Even Draco or Dudley have more excuses because they were raised to be bullies. James wasn’t. So James wins the award for the most morally unacceptable cretin of the four.

As for them as adults, I’ve already given my explanation about Remus, and I think there’s no need to talk about Peter. So, I believe the most morally acceptable is Sirius because he was basically just a big kid lost in a world that no longer belonged to him, and his nonsense can be explained by losing his entire twenties. And although he was still a bully and a jerk, he didn’t sell out his friends or knock up any 24-year-old and then flee, so I give him the award.

James doesn’t count because he was a corpse eaten by worms, and I think that’s great; I hope he didn’t poison any poor invertebrate with his toxicity.

[gothidecorem]

Okay, so in my original idea, this was supposed to be spicy but I can’t get the dumb adhd brain to get past this spot. So, here is my short little Chris Shiherlis blurb.

Warnings: uh, language I suppose. Does Chris himself count as a warning? Spoilers for sure if you’ve never seen Heat. (Also switched a couple events around)

Tags💖: @valmare @sakar-rad

The walk back to the condo from the coffee shop was brisk, but needed. The wind blowing across the ocean, moonlight illuminating what the streetlights couldn’t touch. After a day like today, all that I wanted to do was relax on the deck & listen to the ocean before bed. After what seemed like an eternity trying to fumble for the right key, I finally made my way through the door and into the kitchen to make some tea. Grabbing a mug from the cupboard, I turn around and immediately lose grip, dropping it to the floor, spotting a figure laying in the living room. The sound of porcelain shattering startled the figure, jolting up abruptly.

“Damnit Chris. Good thing it wasn’t my favorite mug or you’d be buying me a new one.” I joke, grabbing a broom & sweeping up the pieces.

“When is Neil gonna get some furniture?” He asks, making his way to the bar. I reach up to grab another mug to make him a cup as well.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” After starting the kettle finally, I excuse myself and head to the bedroom to change into some comfier clothes. I also call Charlene to see what’s up. After a few rings, she answers. “Chris is at my place. What’s wrong?”

“Husband and wife stuff.” She says, venom hanging on every word.

“Cut the crap, Charlene.” I say, laying on my bed.

“You’re one to talk. As if my husband hasn’t been seeing you behind my back. Don’t think I don’t know what’s been going on.”

“Yeah, maybe in the daydreams in your head. I’ve told you time and time again there’s nothing going on between us.” The woman doth project too much.

“Go ahead and keep lying to yourself, honey. I-“

“No, you listen. Don’t act like you don’t go around cheating on Chris. Or do I need to remind you about the whole hotel situation. Yeah, that’s right, Neil told me everything. Don’t continue to project onto him & I to make yourself feel justified in being a bitch.” I’ve always tried to play nice for Chris & Neil’s sake but I’ve never liked the woman. Never have and definitely never will for the way she treats those around her.

“Yano what, you can have him. I’m done talking to you.” She said, abruptly hanging up the phone. Nerves on high alert and anger already boiling, I let it take over and launch my phone at the wall. The moment it crashed, there was a faint knock & the door slightly cracked open.

“Just wanted to let you know the tea is ready. I finished making it for you.” Chris slowly walks in, two mugs in hand. Joining me on the floor by my bed, he passes me the tea. The burn of the tea feels nice, easing the aggravation.

“So what happened?” I ask, pulling the blanket down for us to share.

“Not enough steaks in the freezer.” He said nonchalantly, sipping on his tea.

“With what you guys do, I doubt that.” I mumble under my breath, “unless she’s also a gold digger.” To the untrained eye, it would’ve gone unnoticed, but a flicker of shock flashed in his eyes. “Don’t act surprised, Shiherlis. I’m not oblivious.”

“Vegas & the Super Bowl cleaned me out.”

“Everyone has their vices, some costing more than others. You don’t deserve half the shit she puts you through because of that though.”

He sets his cup down, full attention on me. “What do you mean by that?”

“I hope I’m not the one breaking this to you, but you realize she has something going for her on the side, right? Neil caught her sneaking around at that seedy motel near downtown.” He slumps down, putting his head in his hands. “This whole time she’s been trying to pin the blame on me, on us, saying we’re sneaking around but the whole time she was just-“

“Seriously? She’s been saying that shit to you this whole time?” He says, quickly sitting back up.

“Since the day we met. She’s never liked me and the feeling is mutual. Sorry-“

“Don’t be, I get it.”

The truth is, while there may not be anything but friendship between him & I, I’ve had feelings for him since soon after he and I met. Those feelings haven’t gone away, they’ve just gotten stronger the closer we got. Neil warned me not to get too wrapped up, especially with the job.

“There’s no point. That’s the cold truth of the business. Have no attachments, allow nothing to be in your life you cannot walk out on in 30 seconds flat if you spot the heat around the corner.”

“You took me in, didn’t you?”

“You’re a special case & you’re not here all the time. You know where to find me and I know where to find you if shit hits the fan.”

Chris’s head falling on my shoulder shook me out of my thoughts. He looked so at peace with the way the moonlight hit his face, blond hair falling down. Brushing it out of the way, attempting to help him feel as calm as he looked, he sat up again & stared me down. It was a little hard to read just what emotions he had on his face.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have played-“ he cupped his hands around my face, pulling me in for a kiss. The kiss didn’t last more than a couple moments, and before I knew it he was scrambling backwards.

“Sorry, I didn’t…I wasn’t thinking-“

“Don’t be sorry, Chris, just do it again.”

[laurageto]

Destiny's Knot Chp4 Gojo

Chp1/Chp2/Chp3

trigger warning (story contains); hardcore sex, death & childbirth

Suguru wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer before planting multiple kisses over your face. You giggled, cheeks flushing a peach shade.

Shoko watched intently, not at you and Geto but at Satoru. To the untrained eye, nothing would be a miss but she knew her best friends better than anyone. Gojo's lips smashed together into a hard line, his piercing aqua eyes unwavering at the sight of you and Suguru.

"Hey, get off of my wife!" He joked, launching a half eaten bread roll at your back. The baked good smashed into your shoulder, you could feel your rage boiling over. God damn this boy knew how to press your buttons!

"Calm babe.. he's only joking" Suguru uttered softly into your ear lobe, his warm sweet breath tickling your cheek.

"I know, it just gets to me. My parents have no say in who I love or marry. He knows it's a sore point..."

Geto flipped his best friend the middle finger with his arms still protectively wrapped around you which made Gojo chuckle to himself in amusement.

You both casually walked back to your friends hand in hand, Gojo and Shoko both edging up the table to make room for you both to sit.

"So, Yaga has this mission for us.." Geto started. The table all turn to listen intently. "So you've got to retrieve the Star Plasma Vessel and ensure its safe arrival with Tengen?" You repeated after he'd finished.

"Essentially" he smiled back at you.

"So who's to go on this mission exactly?" You cherped up once more. "Me and Satoru will collect the girl and bring her back to Jujutsu High"

"Girl.." you whispered. The poor thing. You fully understood the reasoning to why Tengen needed to reset his body but that didn't make it more sad for the poor girl that was sacrificing her future to protect everyone else's.

After lunch had finished the two boys were ready to head off.

"Look after eachother ok?" You looked back and forth at the pair. Geto nodded. He scratched the back of his neck, tilting his head and giving his usual soft smile.

"Don't you worry dummy. I'll bring him back in one piece" Satoru announced boldly with his ever so confident smile plastered onto his features.

Usually his arrogance irritated you but for once it was well placed. Geto was strong but Gojo was stronger. The pair made a formidable team.

㊕

Flying was something you were born to do. The wind whipped your silken tresses as Cyrax weaved through the soft clouds. You could make out Caraxes and Catos in the distance, they never ventured to far away from eachother.

It was hard to believe how much your dragons had grown since you were young.

Dragons were only born to males in the Tatsuya family, that was the rule. So when your father's dragon birthed three eggs, your parents were so excited to welcome a son into the world. Not only was this son craved for, he would have three dragons at his side. The Tatsuya family could finally challenge the Gojo family once more. All of those dreams were shattered when you were born, the girl that wasn't wanted.

That was when your parents decided to marry you off to the Gojo's. If you couldn't lead their family maybe you could birth them an heir with the Gojo prodigy.

Your delicate fingers gripped Cyrax's spines as the anger pulsed through your core. Who could 'sell' their only daughter?

Well you were going to prove them wrong. Not only would you become one of the greatest female sorcerer's alive but you were not going to marry Satoru Gojo.

How ironic that you'd fallen for your proposed husband's best friend.

[joseopher]

Atlas Six Signing Headcannons

Libby:

Libby's voice is like cotton candy. Each note is sweet yet soft, creating a melody that dissolves into the air. Her voice is a natural part of the world, something that should've always been there, a missing piece being slotted into place. However, most are not graced with the sound of her singing, she keeps it tucked away too afraid of the way her knees shake and stomach churns when she attempts to use it. Nico is the only one of the six who knows how great her singing is.

Callum:

Callum's voice is not natural. It's precise and sharp like the blade of a knife, each note hitting so perfectly it seems contrived. Listeners will enjoy the songs in the moment, yet instantly forget them as soon as something more authentic comes along. It's obvious to everyone there's no passion in his effortless notes, only detachment and boredom. Or perhaps that's just what he wants you to think.

Tristan:

Tristan's sisters loved singing, not in euphonious melodies but in trashy untrained voices. They would laugh while they sang songs about boys they had crushes on or how much they hated doing the dishes. It had that distinct comfort that only something horrible and homemade could have, like burnt cookies and childhood drawings. It was an ongoing joke that they would run away and start a band with Tristan as their manager. One day, their father caught them talking about it. Tristan doesn't like singing anymore.

Parisa:

Parisa can sing in many different ways, depending on what is necessary. She can sing low and seductive, laced with control, the type of melody finfolk use to lure in their prey. She can sing deep and sorrowful with such beauty that even the coldest of hearts shed a tear. Once Nico badgered her into singing for him, he found that her voice was cute, almost girlish and that she chose a song from a boy band about nothing more than eating sweets. Her voice broke a few times and she got half of the lyrics wrong in a way that sounded almost human. Afterwards, she informed Nico that no one would believe him if he told anyone what he heard. She, as always, was right.

Reina:

Reina's voice sounds like how one would expect concrete to sound or the colour grey. It's gritty and rough yet lacking in the flavour that fills up a melody. But she loves it dearly. Others, however, do not. Her grandmother had to sit her down and explain to her: Reina-chan you have many talents, but singing isn't one of them. Reina avoided singing after that. But while human ears don't recognize her talent, nature certainly does. Her voice makes camellias bloom and acorns fall. Her voice makes frogs croak and nightingales sing. Her voice blocks out the irritating demands of plant life as they vocalize with her in a language only she knows. When Reina sings, the world sings with her. It wishes she would do it again, just one more time.

Nico:

Nico and Libby are two halves of the same whole, so to match Libby's sugary voice, Nico's voice sounds like pandemonium. It is a disorder vocalized. But when paired with Libby's soft voice, it sounds like the type of chaos you would find at a carnival. There is a rhyme to it, a bubbling joy and an undeniable excitement. It isn't perfect but anyone who listened to it would say it was. Of course, no one ever has as Nico and Libby only sing together in private. This happens through Nico obnoxiously humming off harmony until Libby cracks purely to show him how REAL singing sounds.

[rosegadyn]

The stars cry out against you. Every step you take is as nails across the chalkboard of reality, and you revel in the noise. The intensity of its Wrongness pleases you. I will show you that the intensity of your Wrongness pleases me. You whisper in the dark. You skirt the walls between what the eyes can see, scurrying like a horde of rats while proclaiming yourselves the progeny of the logic that in destruction you may build yourself, and in your skulking you touch the minds of those too untrained or too curious to hide the eyes behind their eyes from your passing. Be it flesh, be it hope, be it truth or be it mystery, every little thing that you excise from this universe validates you. I will show you what validates me. The Sword of Uncreation will break against the Shield of Will. Your infallibility becomes as clay when you touch my mind, the heat that makes you brittle in the kiln of war. You shatter into a thousand thousand pieces when you throw yourselves against the walls, nothing more than refuse. You will cease all cry and clamor, and I will take it into myself. You will feed me as no meal, no drink of fresh water, no warm ray of sunshine, no lover's caress and no spoken secret can. I will show you that we are the same. Across five hundred realities you have bared the fangs of the horde down upon me, and in six hundred you have turned tail and ran screaming back into your Dark. The warrens of your homes have been filled in with the bones of your broken dead, and you have watched with the closest thing you have ever come to fear as the inky black that comforts you was consumed by a mouth made laughing. In two hundred realities you have begged for mercy, and in two hundred and one have your eyes been removed and spat upon. You have turned the blade of the Sword back upon yourselves in your errantry, and the question became your final answer. In one hundred of them, you bowed before me as one of your gods, and for infinity did you break beneath the boots of an Almighty. In none of them has my hunger been sated. In none of them does the universe close its jaws and allow you the silence of respite.

[mimi-cee-hq]

Wildfires - Atsumu x f!reader

Summary: You're burned from last year's rumours, now fearing any hint of smoke. Yet you can't help, but fall for the childhood friend who's a balm to your wounds.

Genres, tropes, etc: angst with a satisfying and happy ending, angst to fluff, hurt/ comfort, exs to lovers (but not the usual kind), secret dating, drama and romance, but it's still somehow cute because that's just how I write lol

Warnings: false rumours about cheating and an illicit relationship, so it still technically mentions those things.

Words: 1.9k

Author's Notes: Hi Lia (@chimielie)! I'm your ☀️ anon. 🥰 You suggested exs to lovers and hurt/comfort for this prompt and it still technically is those things, but it's probably not what you expected.

If anyone is new to my blog and doesn't want to read angst, here's a cute fluff Atsumu x reader instead. :)

This fic is for the Heatwave Fic Exchange (@heatwave2021). Thank you for hosting this!

~*~*~

"I hadn't realized you two were still together."

Not even the overworked fan's whirring can drown out the strained silence that follows.

"We're not."

The air is dry and sweat forms on your brow. With the sun beating down, it's the perfect combination for a wildfire.

Atsumu's chin sits on his fist as he avoids your gaze. Lowering your eyes, you stare at the wooden table.

"Did he still care?" you ask yourself.

~*~*~

Plaid skirts sway as two students peek into their new classroom, attempting to be discreet. You hear their whispers from a distance, waiting in front of your own classroom.

"Look! We get Kinjou-sensei this year!" one exclaims.

"Are you serious?" the other asks after letting out a gasp. "I don't know if that's a good thing or not. I might end up staring at his face all day."

"Maybe it'll help you pay attention," her friend snickers.

You clench your jaw as heat rises in your body. They're able to indulge in frivolous remarks, ignorant of how you're left scarred from one fleeting gesture, a tiny piece of kindling that ignited into uncontrollable flames.

Cool hands cover your ears from behind you. Your jaw relaxes and the tension dissipates from your shoulders. You turn around to see Atsumu wearing a scowl on his lips. Sighing as you cross your arms, you ask, "Atsumu, what are you doing?"

"Well if only there was a way to make 'em shut up," he replies with a sharp tone.

You lean away from him and swat his hands back. "You're too close," you tell him.

"Alright!" he says, holding his hands up in surrender. "I'll go!"

As he walks away, he crosses his thumb and index finger behind his back, forming a little heart. You smirk at his hidden gesture to you.

"I love you too, Atsumu," you silently tell him as a smile graces your lips. However, it vanishes like the mist in the sun when yet another person calls after him, someone he doesn't know.

You skirt around the other students, avoiding their path, and rush to your desk. There are too many dry leaves around; a single spark can burst everything into flames.

Why does everyone have to know Atsumu?

~*~*~

"I wish you could've been my partner for the project," you say.

Atsumu pours a glass of water and places it on the table in front of you. "You ended up with that new girl, right?" he mentions and you reply with a nod. "She should be safe to work with."

You're startled once again when you hear the chimes from the front door. A rattan room divider obstructs your view of it, but you hunch down anyway as you finally pick up your spoon.

Atsumu sits across from you, sharing something about his team. His eyes dim when he realizes you haven't been listening.

"This isn't working," he tells you. "I thought this restaurant would be better because people can't see us from here." He runs his fingers in his hair, a sign he's frustrated.

"I– I forgot people can still hear us," you say in a low voice.

Atsumu sighs. "Let's just watch a movie at my house," he says. "Osamu already knows anyway."

"You know we can't," you protest. "Not when Hana and Haku drop by so often. They're going to realize we're together."

"But how are we supposed to have any fun when you're so scared?"

"I–" You lower your gaze, eyes unfocused towards your untouched bowl of rice. "Sorry, Atsumu."

"It's not your fault," he reminds you yet again. This exchange has become all too familiar. "Maybe we should finally tell Hana and Haku what happened to you."

"And have them find out the guy in the rumours is their beloved brother?" You cross your arms over your chest and rub your hand on your sleeve. "I still want to be comfortable around them, Atsumu. Ignorance is bliss right?"

His mouth twists before a groan escapes from it. He slouches in his seat and stares at the food in front of you, which remains the way the waitress left it.

"Let's take the train to Tokyo next time," he mutters. "Nobody'll know us there."

Your eyes grow before looking up at Atsumu. "What?" you slowly enunciate just above a whisper. "Don't you know how expensive that is?"

He presses his lips together before sharing his next suggestion. "I know where 'Samu's secret stash of money is…"

You narrow your eyes at him. "No, we're not stealing from him to go on a date, Atsumu."

"Alright," he says, lowering his eyes and dropping his shoulders.

Seeing his expression, you offer another idea. "How about Osaka?" It's only one city away.

Atsumu's eyes light up, excited at the chance of finally getting to enjoy some time with you. Although your smile doesn't quite reach your eyes, you hope leaving the vicinity of last year's wildfires would be enough, for Atsumu's sake and yours.

~*~*~

Your heart beats faster and your throat becomes dry. You weren't getting enough air.

"You're okay," you tell yourself. "She's not talking about you."

"Seriously! That happened at my old school," your project partner snickers as she recounts her story to you. "They even got the kiss on camera too! I felt so bad for her, but it's her own fault for cheating on him."

You begin to feel dizzy, catching a whiff of smoke from another victim's fire. Her words add fuel to a fire that cannot be stopped. Wildfires burn and burn, and are never satisfied until they run out of kindling.

"Oh! I've been meaning to ask. Are you dating Atsumu? The two of you seem really close!"

Your throat struggles to take control, attempting to keep your stomach down; it doesn't want to burn either.

They'll say you're cheating on Kinjou-sensei.

The tongue is a powerful weapon, causing destruction by those who are both untrained and ignorant as well as the truly malicious.

Your knees buckle as you pant for air, your grip weak on the knob. You need to get out.

Atsumu's figure is before you and you relax as he catches you. You never would have imagined that this guy would be your fleeting oasis.

~*~*~

"Let's break up," you tell Atsumu.

You both knew this was coming, yet a bucket of icy water chilled to the bone regardless of whether or not it was expected. Speaking those words aloud shocked you back into reality.

You hesitated dating each other in the first place, but you couldn't help but caress his strong hands when he admitted his feelings for you. Growing up together in your group of five, he was by your side from snotty noses to acne breakouts.

You didn't expect to fall for the hot-head of your bunch when rumours of you dating Kinjou-sensei spread. Atsumu attempted to extinguish every flame he spotted, witnessing your anguish each time you got burned.

"Maybe we can still do this," you say, contradicting your previous words.

"And what? Have ya pass out again every time someone asks about us?" Atsumu protests. He lowers his eyes as he clutches your hand. "Do ya know how worried I was about ya?"

Your heart flutters for a moment before you remind yourself that you can't keep him, the boy who has been by your side for so long.

"Aghhhhh! This is so stupid!!! Why are we suffering because of this made up crap?! 'Kinjou-sensei' had put a bandaid on me a thousand times more than he did t' ya! But nobody gives a crap about that!"

"I'm sorry Atsumu."

"Why the heck are ya sorry?!" he says, raising his voice.

"I– If I was just strong enough... If I could withstand their stupid words"–your lip trembles–"maybe I wouldn't have to choose between you and having some peace."

There's another silence between the two of you. Your fingers are loosely intertwined together, barely holding the fragile string between the two of you, as if it were a wick that would combust and disappear in a split second.

"Maybe we should just run away," Atsumu mumbles aloud.

"What?"

"Ya know, transfer schools. Or even drop out if we need ta."

"Atsumu! You can't! We can't! You have volleyball! And I... this is the only school that gave me a scholarship."

"Agh! Why is this so frustrating?!"

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing, ya idiot! Ya did nothing wrong!" He presses and rubs his forehead with the heel of his palm. "I just… I wish I could do more for ya." His arm drops at his side. "I wish I didn't feel so useless."

Your tears drip down your face. Could they be counted any more? If only you didn't fear getting caught dating Atsumu, terrified that last year's fires would morph into a raging beast. But another wildfire would not only destroy you but also the man you loved. If only your sores healed by now, you could have shown off your boyfriend, disregarding any of the flames.

If only you were fireproof.

But you weren't and now you're forced to loosen your grip on Atsumu, the balm to your wounds, and let him fall out of your hands.

~*~*~

"I hadn't realized you two were still together."

Not even the overworked fan's whirring can drown out the strained silence that follows.

"We're not."

It was three years since you talked to Atsumu, four since rumours first raged through the school. The two of you went through cycles of getting back together and breaking up again every time you learned that fear was still crippling you. Cutting off contact was the less painful option.

Years later, you're at a friend's cottage and Atsumu comes along without knowing you're here as well. Now that high school has come and gone, the smoke has dissipated and the fires have finished their course. You can finally breathe.

But does Atsumu still want you?

To anyone else, Atsumu is bored out of his mind, resting his chin on his fist. Nobody sees his thumb and finger forming a tiny heart.

Your heart flutters and you blink back tears. You attempt to hold back your growing grin, but you have no reason to hide it anymore.

You wrap your arms around him, almost causing him to topple off of his chair, Atsumu letting out a yelp. "What the heck are ya doing?"

You can finally release your feelings for him, openly and freely. The dam opens and waters rush to engulf him before you settle into his embrace.

"I love you too Atsumu," you tell him without a care in the world.

Osamu tells you he changed when you cut off contact. He desired to be a man, not wanting to feel so powerless, and poured himself into things he could do. It paid off.

"Did ya want to go somewhere together? I could even take ya all the way t' Rome if ya want."

The two of you hold each others' hands as the ocean's edge cools your feet. You lean against his shoulder, cherishing the moment that at one point seemed like an inaccessible dream.

You give him a peck on the cheek and smile. "Tokyo seems like a nice place for a date for now."

~*~*~

I hope you enjoyed this fic. :) (And I hope you liked it Lia!!) I guess I can be poetic if I try. lol. I had a whole commentary written out for this fic, but I decided against posting it here and making my author's notes as long as the fic itself. 😂

If you enjoyed this fic, I don't really have any similar pieces of writing at the moment. The only one that's similar is the hurt/comfort Kunimi WIP I've put off writing for so long because I didn't think I could pull off this type of fic. (And also because I think only one person will read it.) The theme in that one is pity/pride because pitiful is Kunimi's most hated word.

Anyway, if you want to see my usual style of writing, I have a cute tooth-rotting fluff Atsumu x reader one-shot. I currently also have an ongoing fake dating chaptered Suna fic, which is probably my best planned fic with the hints and foreshadowing and a nice mix of humour, fluff and shoujo-type angst. :)

I also have a Google form for my taglist if anyone is interested.

[forever-rogue]

1&7 from list 3

The Mandalorian

Love your writing like a guilty pleasure.

“(Name)! Open the door! & “Tell me I’m wrong.”

It started angsty but ended soft 🥺💕

Din Djarin x Fem!Reader ; warnings: pregnancy

The Mandalorian Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

You paced the room back and forth, trying to hold back your tears as you quickly tried to think of a plan - a what the kriff do I do now plan. Pausing, you stared out the window, slowly approaching the warm sunlight that was streaming in. It was peaceful - here on Sorgan - but you felt anything but that peace within your heart. A small sigh escaped your lips as leaned on the ledge and looked out the window. The sound of children playing and laughing met your ears and caused a panging in your heart. Your hand drifted to the ever so slight swell of your belly as you let out a heavy sigh; it wasn’t noticeable yet, at least not to the untrained eye, but soon it would be. 

You were never alone anymore, not with the small bean inside of you, but you’d never felt more alone than this. 

You missed him - your small adopted son that had gone away with the Jedi. You’d mourned his absence for a long time, despite the fact that you knew you’d be reunited with him again one day. This was for the best-  this had always been the ending and you’d known it. It hadn’t made letting him go any easier. 

You missed Din too. Things hadn’t been the same since he’d parted ways with his son. You knew it would be hard, as had he, but neither of you expected it would be quite this difficult. He hadn’t been the same since, retreating further and further into himself and always from you. Watching your riduur become so reclusive and quiet was enough to break your heart, and despite your best efforts, it seemed like he was never going to snap out of it. 

You had tried your best to make sure he knew he was loved, that Grogu was loved too and that he would be okay, and that one day your family would be reunited. You were sure of it; Grogu might have been gone, but it wasn’t forever only temporary. But it hadn’t seemed to matter to Din either way. 

He was in a perpetual state of just existing, and you’d dragged him here, back to Sorgan, a place he loved and found comforting, in an attempt to make him feel better. Maybe a getaway from everything would do him so good. 

“What is your plan now? You can’t keep hiding away and shutting the world out, Mandalorian.” you had stilled at Omera’s words, frozen as you wondered what your riduur would say; it was clearly a private conversation, and you knew you should walk away, but found yourself unable. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly, “but I know I’m going on by myself. I can’t have anyone around me anymore. It does them no good.”

“What of your wife?” Omera seemed as surprised as you felt, and almost gave yourself away when a small sound of surprise left your lips, “and your unborn child? Surely you would not abandon them.”

“My wife will be much better off without me - she’s never needed me. It’s always been the other way around,” he sighed, “she will get over me and find another. There is no child - it is not a concern.”

“And if there was?” despite not having told Omera about your recently discovered pregnancy, she must have put the pieces together. She was a mother as well after all.

“They would both be better off without me,” he insisted, “once we leave this place, I will ensure her safety and then I will make my own way.”

“That is as selfish as it is cruel,” the woman scoffed at him, “this is not the time to be a hero or a coward, or whatever you want to call it. She is your wife, she loves you more than anything, and yet you want to run simply because you’re scared.”

“It is…”

But you’d heard enough, feeling sick to your stomach as you turned on your heel and ran away, making a loud sound as you almost tripped over your feet. They surely knew you were there now.

“Cyare-” you heard Din call after you as you kept running, running, running. Just like he planned to do.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“We’ll figure it out little one,” you whispered gently to your small bump, “even if it’s just the two of us. We’ll be okay - I will always protect you.”

“Cyare! Open the door!” Din’s voice was loud as he knocked on the door once he realized it was locked. You froze in fear before wiping away your tears and squaring your shoulders, “kriff, open the damned door. We need to talk.”

“Go away,” you sighed at him, feeling anything but in the mood to do this right now, “please just leave. What does it matter anyway? You were just going to do that anyway.”

“Don’t do this,” he said softly as you scoffed, “please let me explain. Please talk to me.”

“I heard what you said to Omera,” you told him, venom lacing your every word, “so you might as well just leave. That’s what you wanted, right? Tell me I’m wrong, Din. Tell me.”

“Open the door so we can talk,” he sounded almost defeated, and while you wanted to shut him out and have him feel the same hurt you had been experiencing, you wouldn’t - and couldn’t do that to him, “please, Cyare.”

Wordlessly, you walked to the door and slowly opened it, and turned around, your back to him. He quickly shut the door behind him, and within seconds, the beskar helmet was off and set on the table as he reached out for you. It was hard to contain your tears as you found him looking back at you with the same expression. 

“You hurt me Din,” you finally managed to say after a few moments, not even fighting back the tears that had rolled down your cheeks, “and I know things have been hard, very hard for you, for us, but I’ve been trying and trying to get you to understand how much I love you and that we will be alright. But nothing seems to be working, and you just shut me out completely. I love you, Din, you’re my husband, my friend, my partner, but I don’t know what to do at this point.”

“I know,” he admitted as he hung his head in defeat, “I know I have not been good to you lately. With...everything that happened...it hurt me more than I thought it would.”

“And it’s okay to hurt,” you reminded him, “I’ve told you, and you’re not the only hurting. It hurt me too, and to see you like this hurts me too. But it will be okay - we will be okay. We’ll have our son again, and until then we have each other. I will always love, and nothing will change that.”

“I just...I don’t want to have something like this happen to you too,” he was sniffling now and despite the hurt and pain you were feeling, you reached up and put your hand on his cheek, “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

“And yet you were so ready to just up and leave me.” you laughed at lightly, understanding his internal dilemma, despite how much you wanted to be mad, “you should have just talked to me, Din.”

“I know,” he agreed, “I just...want to keep you safe. Always. You are the most important thing to me. I should have told you from the start…”

“Yeah,” you laughed lightly through your tears as he offered a pathetic little smile, “we can talk about anything, you know that. Always - the good and the bad. We’re in this together for life. Silly husband...you know where I’m safest, right?”

“Hmm?”

“At your side, with you,” you reminded him, “together we’re unstoppable and we can do anything. Look at all we’ve done so far, and we have so many things left to do. Together.”

“I don’t know why I didn’t just listen to you in the first place,” he took your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze before pressing a kiss to your knuckles, “I just...I got scared and I didn’t know if you’d…”

“Nothing can ever change how much I love you,” you reminded him, “nothing. You have me always. Through all the hard time and easy times, and everything in between. You are a good man, Din Djarin, and you’ve always done the right thing, even if it’s not easy. What we did was what we had to do, but it won’t always be like this, we both know that. I know it still hurts though but it will get easier. We know he’s in a good place, and when we see him again it will be like no time has passed.”

“I love you,” he whispered softly before he completely broke and pulled you into his warms, wrapping them tightly around you. It didn’t take more than a moment for you to respond in kind, holding him tightly as you pressed a few kisses to the side of his head, “thank you for not giving up on me. I know I’m not always the easiest man to deal with.”

“No, you are not,” you agreed, “but I love you beyond measure, just as you love me. I will never give up on you. You know that.”

“I do,” he promised as he pulled back and held your face in his hands before kissing you gently, letting his lips linger against yours, “I’ve always known that, even if I apparently didn’t realize it.”

“Silly husband,” you beamed at him. It was at that moment, seeing the soft look in those brown eyes that you adored that you decided to share your secret with him, “there’s one more thing, Din Djarin.”

“Hmm?” he hummed as you ghosted your lips over his.

“It’s not just me that adores you to the ends of the galaxy,” you gently took one of his hands and placed it on the small swell of your belly, “it’s the two of us.”

His eyes practically lit up at your words and the small bump he could feel. He looked at you, silently asking if it was real as you nodded. Unable to stop himself, he kissed you deeply, taking a moment to soak it all in, “we’re having a baby...us...we…”

“Yes,” you confirmed with a teary smile of your own, “we’re having a baby. And you know what else - this baby and I love you very, very much.”

“I love you,” he agreed, “a clan of three…”

“No,” you shook your head with a wistful smile as he realized what you meant, “a clan of four. Grogu will always be our son too, Din. He knows that too.”

“A clan of four,” he repeated as he squeezed you tightly, “I love you all so much.”

“And we love you, Din Djarin. Always."

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[crymeariveronceagain]

Do you have any headcanons for Tam and Linh’s relationship?

HECK YEAH!!!

Tam and Linh have always been really, really, really close. There are very few secrets between the two of them. The things that are secrets are hard for them to keep.

They grew up very close, and were each other's main support system in the quiet of their house. Their parents are absolute pieces of garbage, but they treat Tam and Linh differently.

Linh was the child that the Song parents kept out of the spotlight. The less people that thought they had twins, they decided, the better. Linh was kept home. Constantly. They didn't like her, found her too weak, too untrainable, too dangerous. She didn't go to school, but was taught at home. If they'd let her go to Foxfire, they'd have to register her actual age, the exact same as Tam's, and ruin their social lives. Linh was responsible for everything that went wrong. She was the scapegoat, and she constantly had to fight to not be yelled at for nothing.

Tam got treated like he had to prove he was worth being the child they actively put out into the world. He had to earn the right to go to Foxfire, earn the right to go to parties, earn and earn and earn. Whenever he did something right, there was more he should have done, things he should have changed, things he shouldn't have asked about. He was the child their parents wanted to be proud of. He didn't want them to be proud of him. Especially not once he saw how they treated Linh.

Tam is super protective of Linh, but with very good reason. He is the only person who he knows for a fact will care about Linh. So if he has to do all the caring, he doesn't care. He's going to keep her safe. No matter what.

Linh worries. She worries about Tam, because she watches, and she sees. His eyes are always tired. There is so much pressure on him. She can see it. And so when he leans on her shoulder, she lets him. They are each other's comfort. They've had to be.

Tam and Linh have very different tastes. Tam likes dark things, always has, from punk rock and emo to black clothes and even his shadows. Linh has always wanted to be soft. She's never thought she was, really, but she wants to be. She works for it. She clings to the soft, the bright, the clean, because she knows that that's what she wants to be seen as. This doesn't stop Tam from trying to make Linh understand what's so good about his music, but she doesn't understand. Linh likes bright music. That's how it's always been.

Linh had kept the worst parts of their parents' treatment of her to herself. Her brother didn't need that on his shoulders, didn't need to carry around that crap. But once, he came home from school early, and walked in on her parents telling her exactly what they thought she was.

Without saying a word, the shadows darkened, and Tam had scooped his sister into his arms, flipped off his parents, and locked them both in his bedroom. She sat next to him, not crying. She didn't like crying, Tam knew. She didn't like water coming out of her face. It makes my control sloppy, she whispered, once, in the calm after a storm.

Tam held her, silent, and didn't move until morning. This was his little sister. He would protect her at all costs.

Which was why he left with her, when her parents shipped her off to Exilium. He wasn't about to leave his sister. He couldn't. His parents were fools if they thought he would. They screamed at him to "Get back here!" and "Stay where you belong!" He didn't tell them that the only place he belonged was with Linh. He dipped his hair in the molten metal of his registry pendant, and looked at Linh.

She was thinking about all the death she'd caused. "How many people don't get to go home," she whispered, "Because of me?"

Tam shrugged. "What's done is done, Linh. You didn't mean to. Our parents were idiots for sending an untrained hydrokinetic to Atlantis."

"I'm no good," she said, a week later, into the quiet of their tent. "There's nothing good about me."

Tam didn't respond for a moment. But he got up, and walked over to her bed, and lay down on top of her covers, next to her. "I think you're good. I think you're kind, and would never hurt anyone on purpose. You are loving, caring, and would do anything to help people. If some people died in Atlantis, Linh," he said, slowly. "That has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with our parents."

Linh sniffed, heavily. "How do we keep on living?"

Tam answered, into the darkness, "I don't know. But we can't be afraid."

Linh got training, good training, in hydrokinesis, for the first time in Exilium. She didn't want to find hope and safety here, she told Tam one night, but how could she not? "I'm not afraid of myself anymore," she said, "I'm afraid of the water, but I'm not afraid of me."

Tam had hugged her tightly.

They did that a lot. They'd never been super touchy at home. They weren't allowed to be. But here, hugs were allowed. No one cared. And as much as that sucked, at least they were together.

Exilium gave them so much space. It let both of them, for the first time in their lives, really be themselves. Tam got to use his shadows for the first time, as much as he wanted and without restraint, and Linh got to understand how her own powers worked. It gave them space, even in the dangers of being in a literal death and punishment camp for kids, to actually be the kids they were. Tam got to sleep in, and Linh got to read. They spent most of their time outside, and for once, they didn't have to worry about anything other than not dying. Their whole lives had been twisted into a storm of worry. But they were free from that now.

Linh learned how to cook. Tam loved it. Tam learned how to build forts. Linh counted on him. Tam learned how to cause mischief, Linh learned how to defend herself. Linh learned how to sew, and then taught her brother. He made her a tiny teddy bear. She brings it with her everywhere. Tam learned how to climb trees, and then taught his sister.

Their eyes were fresh and bright and clear. There was fear in them, but it wasn't a fear they couldn't see. A fear they were never allowed to face. It was a fear that jumped out of bushes, that slammed them against the dirt. It was a fear that Linh could drown, a fear that Tam could read.

But the fear was still real.

Someone from Linh's group died, once, while they were both working. She screamed, and it filled everyone's ears. Tam was running across the field, towards her, dodging the missiles and projectiles they'd been tasked with avoiding. He dragged her off the field, his eyes daring anyone to stop him, and held her until her breathing went back to normal.

No one minded, when they hugged each other.

After they left Exilium, things did not get easier. Linh didn't want to go back home, back to their parents, Tam knew she didn't. He'd have gone back for her, but other than that, he didn't want to even consider it. Instead, after the Black Swan sent them all home--

They wound up on the streets. Alone, again. They moved from place to place, and pretended like they had somewhere to return to every night. They didn't.

Tiergan found them. He took them in. Tam didn't want to trust him. Linh did.

Tiergan gave them space, home, freedom. For the first time in both of the twins' lives, they were entirely safe. They were entirely free. They were entirely home. They weren't in a terrifying place, full of danger and monsters. They weren't around their parents. They were okay. They would be okay.

[onlydylanobrien]

Dylan O’Brien is on the run. Quite literally.

It’s a crisp October afternoon on the Toronto set of Flashback and the former Teen Wolf star has just arrived. O’Brien gives director Christopher MacBride a hug before gearing up for the physical sequence on the horizon. As the cameras begin to roll, the 29-year-old actor sprints up the staircase of an abandoned warehouse. Again, and again, and again. As he repeats the scene, O’Brien lightheartedly voices his concerns about holding his head up during his mad dash. “I’m untrained as an actor,” he says to MacBride.

“That was just me joking about things in movies that you don’t think about, like trying to run upstairs and you are not watching your feet because you have to keep your head up for the camera,” O’Brien tells SYFY WIRE as he plunks down on a chair in a remote corner of the building. Running at full tilt, while also ensuring that you’re making sure the camera can capture your performance, is a skill in and of itself, it turns out. “It’s hilarious because then you are tripping and you’re like, ‘Oh, this is not easy.' It’s one of those funny little things. This must be what they teach you in acting school.”

Landing in select theaters and VOD on June 4, Flashback — previously titled The Education of Fredrick Fitzell — follows Fredrick Fitzell, an ordinary guy on the cusp of his 30s. Locked in a corporate job, he must make some tough decisions regarding the next chapter of his life and career. To complicate matters, a chance encounter with a man from Fredrick’s past triggers disturbing memories of Cindy, a high school classmate who vanished. To unravel the mystery behind her disappearance, Fredrick turns to his old druggie buddies and the substance Mercury. Could a trippy bender unlock his repressed memories… or allow something more troubling to resurface?

Fredrick’s existential crisis immediately spoke to O’Brien. The New York City native previously suffered an accident, involving a stunt gone wrong, while filming his movie, The Maze Runner: The Death Cure. The incident left an injured O’Brien hospitalized, broken, and mulling whether to continue acting.

“The two things I had done the longest since I started acting were Teen Wolf and Maze Runner,” O’Brien says. “I had always had those homes and knew I would be moving on from those at some point. They happened in the same year, too. They both kind of ended. It was a new stage that I was going to be entering into. I wanted to take my time, for me personally, because I had been going nonstop since I was 18. I always believed that as an artist, the only thing you are inspired by is life and experience. You can’t be on set all the time. I was reading a lot and trying to figure out and feel what was right to do next. I wanted to be patient about that.

“I read this script and called my manager, ‘I absolutely love this!'" he adds. "It’s an incredibly well-written script and wildly unique. It’s completely out there, and yet, at the same time, it’s really structured and written by somebody who knows what they are doing. Beyond that, it felt like my world at the time. Something could not have fallen into my lap that I was more connected to.”

Although marketed as a psychological thriller, Flashback’s narrative is rooted in genre, with elements of horror and sci-fi. Reminiscent of Jacob’s Ladder, the story switches between past, present, and future versions of Fredrick. In addition, a horrifying creature, with a personal connection to Fredrick, haunts his visions. The monster serves as an interesting device used as a metaphor for motherhood and exploring the complexities with a parent.

“I love that instead of hammering home what his relationship was like with his mother in the script, it’s sort of a very important piece of the film that he’s losing his mother,” explains O’Brien. “You never really see how he feels about that, outside of what he is going through. The only way you do that is through this creature and through this hovering energy.”

Viewers will be treated to multiple Fredricks (nine, to be precise) on this deeply personal journey. There’s 17-year-old teen Fredrick, his present-day self, and an older version. O’Brien was impressed by the aging and de-aging process — enough that he admits to occasionally getting a little lost in time.

“Every day, I’m like, ‘Where the hell am I?’” he jokes.

“The makeup team has been doing an amazing job because it’s not an easy thing to do and you have to be subtle with it,” O’Brien says. “They will do things, like when I’m 30, it’s no makeup aside from enhancing my little wrinkles that I have, the natural things in my face and have a little scruff. Then, at 17, they are young-ing us up. They put makeup on us to make our skin look younger, our face look better. A little foundation smoothes everything out. We shave and try to cover up the shadow.

“I didn’t expect it to be so mentally and emotionally draining,” he continues. “I do feel spent at the end of so many days. It’s a lot of focus. Again, in this time crunch of 25 days, sometimes we are doing three big scenes of the entire arc of the film, three completely different stages of his life. I want the performance to be there. It’s difficult, but it’s such a fun challenge because it’s something I connect to, something I dearly care about and want to get right.”

O’Brien concludes, “It’s been nothing but a blast and a pleasure to have that challenge of exploring these subtly different nine versions of this guy and having traces of him still be there in each and every one.”

[pennyserenade]

tags: nameless female oc x javier peña, nameless female oc x javier pena. rating: e ( explicit ) warnings: smut, language, talks of violence, unprotected sex, heavy angst, mentions of death, guns, pregnancy.  word count: 3k+ summary: not everything can be spoken the way it can be felt.  notes: i somehow managed to do this despite feeling entirely unmotivated all day, so that’s nice. this takes place during episode 3, season 2, near the halfway mark.   original gif by: @javierian

una guerra sin piedad 

scene eight, scenes from a marriage

Javier is a good husband, or at least he tries to be. He doesn’t mean to do this--probably doesn’t even recognize that she knows he’s doing it. He is faced with so many objectives in a day's time, Javier doesn’t realize how easy it is to catch on to his lies. They are hardly coated, though, obvious to anyone who pays attention to him as much as she does, but that’s just it--he doesn’t pay attention at all.

He’s unaware that his fingers are shaking right now. It is a subtle act, a tremble hardly notable to the untrained eye, but these are the fingers that have been touching her for twelve years; she has seen them and felt them and come to know them better than her own. They have remained steady and nimble even after too many cups of coffee and one too many pieces of harrowing news, because they are trained to be fingers that don’t give way to anxiety. A stone body, a man meant to be unflinching in the face of the most awful of tragedies, but here with her, it allows his lies to leak out without his consent. It’s pleading, this body, asking for respite because he won’t go easier on it.

She holds his hands, keeping them steady before they can reach out and lay flat against her growing stomach. Javier looks at her and confusion sprinkles across features that are too pale to be normal, even to him. His eyes reveal an undeniable sadness, too, some sort of impact from war that he’s on the verge of losing simply because he refuses to ask for help. He is all alone in there.

“Me estás mintiendo, Javi,” she tells him, voice level and collected. “Te mientes a ti mismo también.”

He looks startled, and perhaps it is warranted. The glass case he enclosed himself in wasn’t so transparent or frail to him, after all. 

He takes his hands away slowly. 

“No,” he responds. “About what?”

“No sé. Not completely,” she shakes her head. “That’s why I said it.”

“I’m not lying about anything.”

“Javi.”

“What?”

“The cigarettes.” 

She watches his face fall. 

“You smoke them when you think I’m asleep but I do your laundry, and I can smell them when you get back in bed,” she shrugs. “You don’t hang out the window far enough either, and you always get ashes on the ground.”

“I can’t quit,” he confesses. “Not now.”

“I never asked you to.”

“Yo sé, pero…” he begins, but falters. “I wanted to.”

“I would rather you smoke than you lie.”

“Okay, but that’s all,” he confirms. “Only the cigarettes.”

“Javi.”

“I’m telling the truth.”

“You of all people should know withholding information is just as incriminating,” she huffs, “I’m stronger than you ever give me credit for. You aren’t the only one who sees the blood in the streets, you know. I saw it too, still do, because we live here and that’s the reality and I’m sick of having to deny it.”

“Baby,” he groans. “Please. I don’t ever ask you to postpone these things, but I cannot do this tonight. I cannot.” 

“What happened tonight, Jav?”

He shakes his head. Lips straighten into a tight line and his Adam’s apple bops. 

“It was nothing.”

“Please,” she pleads, in the same vein as his own. “You don’t know how bad I need to know what is happening in your mind.”

“Nothing.”

His eyes start going blank again, despite the small smile he forces onto his lips. It has gone quicker than it had come. 

She frowns. 

He senses that his control over this situation is ebbing away. Lies, denial, the cruel act of simply not telling—it oozes out of him. 

Deception ages poorly, if this is anything to go by. It is grotesque what the truth can do to something beautifully fabricated as their marriage has been the past few months. Those tiny cuts that had existed before are now bloody wounds, infected with the spoils of their selfishness.

He cups her face in his hand; she lets him. He swipes the pad of his thumb over the warm skin, and looks into her eyes; she lets him. He leans forward to kiss her; she does not let him.

She’s never done that. It hollows him out, digging deeper in the already sensitive heart he’s carrying around.  

“Te amo mucho,” she begins, taking the hand that cradled her face in her own, “but you are hiding from me and it hurts to see.”

He face twitches, as if he’s going to say something, but he grows hesitant. He realizes what he might lose, realizes what’s at stake. 

It is not that she hasn’t seen the violence, or that he thinks her too weak to handle it. He knows what she can bear, knows that before he ever met her she was reporting on what he found. Anyone in Colombia, reporter or not, knows, because this is what happens. Violence. She can’t not know. 

What she can avoid knowing is his involvement in it. Withholding the truth is just as incriminating, she is right, but she’s been here long enough to know that crime runs rampant. It infects the entire country with its allure—that promise of getting to better places faster—and he is someone who has been swept dangerously up in its tide. 

She does not need to know. Some things shouldn’t be told, just as those things shouldn’t have been done. 

Doesn’t need to know it had been a boy. Just a fucking mouthy kid who had been washed into a war he didn’t deserve to comprehend let alone contribute to. 

The gun was held by someone who should’ve protected him, too. Noble American hero he was, Javi stood by and watched. He hadn’t even wanted to tell Steve—was coerced out the way he refused to be with her. 

He swallows harshly and thinks once more about the line of English he muttered before it had happened. It was a plea the boy wouldn’t have understood or grasped, said because deep down Javier knew what was about to happen. He didn’t say it in Spanish, though. He has to reconcile with the fact that the plea was more for himself than it was the boy with the gun in his face. Has to reconcile with the fact that he won’t speak about it again, too, even though he knows it’s wrong. She doesn’t need to know that, does she?

“I’m not going to tell you,” he speaks with a harsh finality. Maybe it’s not so harsh; maybe it’s just the fact that it’s so final that really hurts.

She holds her breath, the pain of his answer sharp and sudden and irrevocably real regardless. 

“I can’t,” he repeats. 

There’s no way he doesn’t know he’s hurting her now, and she supposes he’s doing this for a good reason, but the ache of it still burns just as bad. 

“I know,” she says. Then, a sacrifice, “S’okay.”

Javier’s eyes shift down to her stomach. He has found an increasing need to keep his hands and arms wrapped around her nearly all of the time lately. Given, he has always loved the way she melts into his body when he wraps himself around her, but this is different; it is a sort of comfort that stems beyond liking the warmth of her. This is a need to protect. 

His feelings about the child still lean more towards confusion than they do anything else, but he’s begun to accept the fact that it is real. It’s hard to deny such a thing as her stomach begins to grow, but a part of him sort of likes knowing that it’s there now. He has given her something that isn’t pain, something that will be beautiful and innocent. He watches her, too, sees the way she holds her stomach and hears the way she speaks to it when she thinks he’s in a different room.

He remembers when she had told him that she was meant to be so much more than just someone’s mother or just someone’s wife. That felt like a century ago, those two people entirely different than the ones that lay here now and talk with each other. He doesn’t mourn for it, that time and those people, but he does think about them. 

She is still so much more than a wife and a mother, to be fair. Maybe she never accomplished everything she had envisioned when she had told him that, but there’s something so fiercely independent about her still, something entirely separate from anyone, even the one who grows inside her. 

She kept her last name. She reads all the time and piles books all over the house, adding personality in a way he never favored beyond his own shit until she came. She still writes. She’s compiled an entire record collection, full of artists and bands he’s never heard, and sometimes ones he has, the special sort that remind him of being a kid. She can sew. She is good at puzzles. She always burns her own toast but never his. She is good at oral because in the same way she had dedicated herself to a lot of things in life, she had also dedicated herself to learning how to suck a cock (her words, not his). She is filthy in a way that makes him ache sometimes, it’s so goddamn hot. She is kind. She is his everything. 

He isn’t happy or proud of the fact that he cannot find it in himself to admit what he has done. He knows she doesn’t deserve to be in a relationship filled with lies, ones so concealed she can’t even begin to find out what they are. Cigarettes are nothing in comparison to the things he witnessed tonight, and even those break her heart. 

His love for her is selfish, but it is still the very best part of him. 

“Let me touch you,” he whispers, hands ghosting lightly over her bare arms. “I just wanna make you feel good right now. Will you let me do that?”

She nods, and then, without him asking, she raises the slip she wears over her head, leaving her perfectly naked on top of him. He leans forward soon after and takes a nipple in his mouth. Her fingers rake through his hair as he runs his tongue against the sensitive flesh, but this time they do not tug. There is no rush or hunger in the way they are choosing to be with one other right now. Their bodies are too weak from emotional ware and tear, and their minds too numb from resisting the confrontation of the heaviness tonight has brought upon them. 

His fingers travel down to her core and when they find her clit, she pulls her back from her chest and kisses him, stealing a moan from his mouth. She breathes into him. After she pulls back, she rests her forehead against his own. Javi focuses more intently on her pleasure, measuring his success from the way her breath begins to quicken and the way her hips begin to rock up into his hand, desperate for more. He buries his face in the crook of her neck and she bites down gently at the skin of his shoulder, muffling herself as his fingers quicken the pace. She’s getting close, he knows. 

“That’s it, mi amor,” he tells her as she works herself on his fingers. “Use me, baby.”

It doesn’t take long until her lips part from his skin and find themselves letting out sharp moans, hips coming to a slow halt as she finishes working herself through the wave of her orgasm on his fingers. 

She presses her lips onto his, panting gently as she does so. When she allows herself to rest against him, he can feel how wet she is through the fabric of his boxers. 

He grabs onto the back of her neck and deepens the kiss. She wraps her arms around his neck and begins to rub herself against him, and he lets her for a few moments, enjoying what he can of her like this, before he rests a hand on her hip to stop it. 

“I want to taste you,” he tells her. She just looks at him. “Por favor.”

She nods, beginning to get off of him, but he grabs at her again, stilling her. Her eyebrows raise in confusion. 

“Sit on my face.”

“Javi, I’m too—“

“No you’re not,” he assures. He begins to lay down, pushing a pillow beneath his head. “C’mon, you like it.”

“Baby,” she hesitates. 

Javi tugs gently on her hand, urging her forward. She sighs, but caves in. 

He helps her, guiding her forward on his chest and she goes, but he can feel how nervous she is still.

He nips at her thighs before he adjusts herself over him. “I like doing this,” he tells her before he guides her forward the last few inches, and immediately he can feel all the tension ease from her as his tongue dips into her. 

She grabs a handful of his hair and licks between her folds, lapping up the last bit of her previous arousal. His nose grazes gently over her clit every so often and she cannot help the moan that escapes from her when it does. He is losing himself in her, transforming all the lies into nothing even for the briefest moments. 

He may not be the best husband, but he can make her feel good. He likes it too, genuinely enjoys the taste of her on his tongue and the accomplished, satisfying feeling of knowing he makes her legs weak and is the cause of the moans that part from her when she truly gets lost in this. And God, how they fall now as he sucks her clit. She unintentionally moves her hips forward. 

“Sorry,” she says, but Javi is quick to gently shake his head, not wanting to lose her. His hands wrap around her ass and he encourages it, going as far as moaning into her when she begins to develop a good pace. He gropes at her ass and she cums again, twitching gently this time. Javi cannot help the grin that forms on his lips as she does this. 

She guides herself off of him, collapsing next to him in the bed. Before he has the chance to wipe her arousal off his lips, she’s pulling him into a kiss. 

She loves this man. He may hurt her and hide from her, but she never feels unloved in his presence. Maybe that is enough. Maybe asking for any more than that is wrong. He is a good man. 

She kisses a trail down his chest, moving back in between his legs before she reaches the halfway point. 

“No,” he says, holding out his hand. 

“Why?” she questions.

“You don’t need to just because I did,” he says. “You don’t have to touch me at all.”

“I want to, Javi,” she tells him, hands shimming down his underwear. 

She kisses down his happy trail, then peppers light kisses around the base of his cock. His breath hitches, anticipating her next move, and he is delighted to find it is her tongue licking the underside of his sensitive member. He nearly jolts out of her hand, the sensation of her feels so good. 

He cannot help but tell her, saying, “Fuck, you do it just right.”

Despite all the ache still present in her, she manages a soft, unaffected laugh. He notes that, feels just as moved by that as he does the way her mouth wraps around his member and begins to be worked. 

She twirls her tongue around the top each time she comes back up, and she moves back down slowly, drawing multiple moans and “fucks” from his lips. He cannot look at her while she does it, unable to refrain from coming in her mouth if he does. He’s already dangerously on the edge as she includes her tongue when she’s going back down on his choke, running across each vein and causing his hips to twitch just as hers did. 

“I’m gonna—“ he pauses, fighting the urge to release with all he has in him. “I’m going to cum soon and I want it to be in you. You—“ he pauses again, breath leveling, “—you gotta stop or I won’t make it.”

“I don’t want you to,” she manages, before returning to his cock, going up and down at an increased rate. His fingers clench the sheets beneath him as she does this, losing it when she moans against him. He can’t stop it, can’t resist the urge any longer and doesn’t truly want to, knowing she’s not going to let him. 

He opens his eyes and watches her wipe a line of his arousal from her chin before she swallows down the rest of it. Tired and spent as he is, he still manages to rise from his back quickly to kiss her. He can taste himself on her lips, but he does not mind it. The kisses are not as lust filled, more tender and caring, and he is all the more pleased when she guides him backwards again, before settling next to him and wrapping one of her legs around his. His heart beats rapidly and his mind is not yet void of thought (he isn’t sure if it will ever be), but the tension between them has dissipated. Even if it is temporary, and even if it is something that is going to come back ten times worse, Javi values this for what is now and appreciates her submission once more into this fantasy land with him. 

She herself wonders, despite all the unspoken heartbreak, and despite all the unknown truths, what their baby might look like and what qualities it might possess from him as she lies silently next to him. Wonders because what she has learned is that the future is her friend and that imagining it does no harm.

It is a place where nothing is broken or harmed, the future. A place where she can cling to the vestiges of hope she’s granted even when he holds her and doesn’t tell her what he’s done or seen. It’s a place beautifully untouched by the unfair quality of truth and pain; a place where he stands in the doorframe of their bedroom with a small, newly born child and looks happy in a way she hasn’t seen in so long; a place where she will never have to fret about whether she will ever get that from him or not, because it is hers and she does. 

The future has always been kind to her, kind in the way the present never, ever seems to be. She clings onto Javi and even manages a sad sort of grin at the thought of a child who’s hair curls the same way his does when it gets too long. 

She doesn’t share these thoughts with him, though—hardly ever does—because she needs things for herself. Admitting these notions into the world is to corrupt them, or to corrode the meaning they have to her now. She loves him, but these are her thoughts the way whatever he battles are his. 

This is a scene of a war without mercy; this is scene eight from a marriage. 

javi tag list : @wyn-dixie , @rosiefridayrogersunday , @disgruntledspacedad , @melaniermblt , @walt-breslin , @theorganasolo , @amneris21 , @over300books

forever/everything tag list : @astroboots , @frannyzooey , @wyn-dixie , @rosiefridayrogersunday , @melaniermblt , @theorganasolo​ , @amneris21​

scenes tags: @gravegoth​ , @sarahjkl82-blog​ , @cmonkeepmoving​

[diaco1968]

Teeth

Hawks x reader

Warnings! Nsfw/lemon/smut, biting, hairpulling, oral sex, unprotected vaginal sex no pull outs... He has exogenous zone between his wings...he can go feral... can't convince me otherwise... reader quirk works by getting saliva/venom on the victim. Long

~fight so dirty but you love so sweet~

When a hawk hunts it's first ever viper, sweeping in, catching the clueless creature and taking it back to the sky, it can go any of 3 ways. He's either succesful in incapacitating the viper and can feast on his prey later. Or the viper manages to land a venomous bite on him, in which case they fall to their doom. Now if they don't die from the fall, the viper is the one feasting on the paralyzed young hawk. Nature is a wild thing indeed with how fast the hunter can turn into the prey.

The first time he met you he was on his way somewhere else and he spotted you in a dead end , the only thing running through his mind was 'what a hassle.' His wings shuddering in agitation, the feathers ruffling noisily when he landed behind you in the dead end where you were toying with your paralyzed victim. A middle aged man whom you just mugged and was now making fun of as he could do nothing but watch you, standing there like a stone statue.

"That is not really fair is it, kid?" You turned around slowly and gracefully locking eyes with him "can't be any less fair than following and harassing an innocent little girl in a dead end. He picked the wrong person. Now he pays little price than he deserves, Birdie." You mocked back crossing your arms and taking a nonchalant pose. Though he could tell just how tense and ready to jump you were under that posture. Like a coiled snake. So that was the problem, now he knew why his nerves were on fire when he spotted you. He raised an eyebrow "you don't strike me as an innocent little girl though." You smiled sweetly as you freed the guy from your paralysis who stumbled and scrambled away and out of sight apologizing. "So what? That's what you're into, hero? Innocent little girls? Please." You emptied the content of the man's wallet right in front of Hawks and put it in your back pocket before throwing the wallet to the side. Looking up at his annoyed expression playfully keeping your smile. "Alright! That's it. You're coming with me for theft." You raised your hands in front of you submissively as if ready to get cuffed "oh no, he gonna chain me up." He wasn't amused as he stepped forward grabbing your shoulder to turn you around. That's when in a heartbeat you striked, pushing him off towards the wall and stepped back from him. You were fast, but so was he blocking your way when you tried to make a run for it "nice try. That all you got?" He said casually squeezing his shoulder where you hit but you could tell he was slightly distressed by your speed. "Oh you should not have said that." You grinned raising your hand that was holding one of his crimson feathers between your thumb and forefinger firmly but delicately. "It's okay, I can grow more of those, don't worry about it." He smirked walking back towards you. His smirk was easy to like. It was not like yours, it was calming. You ignored his comment as you brought the feather up to your lips, his steps faltered and came to a halt watching you intently. Your tongue darted out and licked up the side of it, sucking it into your mouth and pulling it out, making a show of it for the winged hero, loving the way his feathers fluttered and shuddered in response "oh, and that's what you are into, huh?" He said trying to sound sarcastic but as intrigued as he was it sounded like a genuine question. He wanted to know what the hell you were doing. You chuckled dropping the feather and stalking towards him. The feather fell limp to the floor much to his surprise. But he was in for a much bigger surprise. When you were only inches away from him, he went to grab you. And he couldn't. He couldn't move a single muscle below his neck. "What the... how did you-" he fell quiet inspecting you as you let your hands wander under his coat and ran your fingers up over his abs, over muscles that were prominent through his skin tight suit before reaching up and grabbing his shoulders to use as leverage and pull yourself up to his ear. "You're lucky I like you, cause if not, this is still not 'all I've got'." You repeated his phrase from earlier your tongue lightly brushing over the shell of his ear, enjoying the way he tensed up even more under your touch. "Okay... I really should not have said that I guess..." he scoffed and You moved your lips to his shoulder sliding his coat off only a little "too late." You sunk your teeth in his shoulder through suit and all making a loud hiss escape his lips. His smart mouth wasn't going to quit it though "ow, that's definitely going to leave a mark. what a kinky little thing you are." You chuckled fixing his coat up and stepping back, turning on your heels to leave "you can move again soon, see you around hero." And with that you were gone."Damnit..."

~call me in the morning to apologise, every little lie gives me butterflies~

It was truly a hassle explaining to the nurse who patched him up that it was just a cat that bit him, right on the shoulder, clean and no bleeding. Only a little less bothersome than admitting his embarassing defeat. He hadn't seen you since, and it's been two weeks. During which the clear set of teeth marks on his shoulder remained, unchanged, as if only just bitten into his skin moments ago. He couldn't dig up anything about you, and damn he tried, knowing his resolve and resources it was saying something. No one had heard of you. Were you even a villain? "Tsk." He traced his fingers over the mark as he craned his neck to look at it in the mirror before sticking the bandage back over it, covering it up with his shirt. Not a moment of his days went by without having you in somewhere in his mind, taunting him, haunting him... and what annoyed him was that it did not ALL relate to his embarassing paralysis in that dead end. He imagined and thought about you way more than just that. He headed out on his day off, to the bar, definitely for gathering info. Of course.

He stepped off into the cold night air and looked up at the sky, stiffening ever so slightly, invisible to the untrained eye. "Speak of the devil, ey?"

You pushed yourself off the wall where you were leaning against and approached him as he turned his head towards you, hands still in your pockets. "Aw, were you thinking about me? Do you happen to do it often?" You smirked, eyes trailing over his face to his shoulder where you've put your little art piece then back to his eyes. His eyes narrowed immediately, turning towards you and getting in your face "you did something to me didn't you?! I knew it!" He growled under his breath glaring at you realizing he had put his hand instinctively over his wounded shoulder to cover it. You put your hands up in the air as if surrendering and looked up at him sincerely, his wound started throbbing for some reason. "Yeah I did. But... I decided you probably don't deserve it. I mean... you were just doing your job. So. I've come to help you remove it." He blinked a few times looking at you unamused "riiight." You rolled your eyes "right!" He frowned and tilted his head to the side "...right? Really?" You groaned pushing him towards the door "ugh you're even more annoying than I remember. Let's go inside." He raised an eyebrow with a hand on the knob still uncertain of your intentions "do you usually invite yourself in people's house like that? Cause I'm not sure you're the type of gal I want to pick up and take home with me..." 'well ouch' He was right not to trust you but you didn't have all night "listen jerk, do you want to get rid of this or not?!" you hissed at him, and as you expected his feathers ruffled at the sound before you could even touch his shoulder. It was in his nature to find it threatening after all. It was kinda cute. He braced himself for you to be nasty and squeez his wound or something but your hand just lightly brushed over his coat, he barely even felt it "okay okay! Sheesh." He opened the door and stepped aside for you to get inside.

~talk so pretty but your heart got teeth~

"So what were you thinking about?" He was taken aback by the sudden question as he closed the door behind him turning to find you make yourself comfortable on the couch. Your question was out of the blue, yes, but it shouldn't have made his so distressed. "Nothing...?." He lied. You sighed "I can't help you like that." Silence filled the room as the two of you stared each other down before you decided to relent "look. The venom in the bite-" he gasped at the words "venom?!" You looked at him unfazed making him feel embarrassed by his own outbursts "sorry, do go on." He gestured for you to continue. "... the venome will eventually make you hallucinate. And it will remain there till you do as it tells you. So I need to know what you've been thinking about most. By the little time that has passed I don't think you are at the point of hallucination yet, yeah?" He was now more anxious about his thoughts by the things you just told him. "I don't hallucinate... do I just start hallucinating random things?... are you some kind of mobile LSD fairy or something?" He frowned at you for real this time making you sigh. "You hallucinate what you want and desire at the moment of the bite, I don't have control over it. So... yea I guess I am." You looked down and he immediately felt terrible "I didn't mean it like that... I just...sorry..." he had no idea why he was apologizing. You were the one who bit him. And he didn't recall you apologising even once so far. "It's fine, I understand." You looked back up at him and cocked an eyebrow "now that that's out the way, much like yourself I don't want to be here anymore than I need to. You can probably take care of the matter on your own from now on. Goodbye birdie." You got on your feet and walked for the door but just as you were going to pull it open his hand shot up from behind you and pushed it back closed. It was your turn to get anxious heart sinking and the hair on the back of your neck standing on end, he was looming over you from behind and you could feel his hot breath on the back of your neck and see the shadow of his wings spreading intimidatingly behind you both. "Actually, in that case, YOU are so not done here."

~Late night devil put your hands on me

And never never never ever let go~

"Uh..." you slowly turned around pushing yourself back against the wall and looking up at him to see the easy smirk from before back on his face, eyes half lidded, dripping with confidence "I don't... um... what do you m-mean?" He raised a hand and brushed a finger on the side of your jaw, stroking it lightly as he leaned in closer "it's you I was thinking about the whole god damned time. The way you'll look, they way you'll sound. The way you'll taste. You said you will help me fulfill my hallucinations." He looked down over your form taking his time as he did so before his eyes landed back on yours "do you still want to help me?" He was actually asking. Despite the way his voice faltered at the thought of getting rejected there was a choice in his question. You could refuse. But why would you? He was hot. Annoying. But still hot. "So you got to be on LSD to take girls like me home?" You scoffed crossing your arms over your chest, the way the shadow of his wings covered you making you uneasy. He smiled apologetically "in my defense, last time we met you assaulted me in a dead end, gal." You huffed "(y/n)." His smile brightened as he watched you intently "Keigo. So (y/n), what do you say?" You hummed looking thoughtfully, almost shamelessly down his form, raising a hand and barely brushed your fingers against his crotch before pressing them firmly to his abs and chest. His chest tightened in anticipation as he felt his stomach drop. Maybe it was just for now and how you were touching him, maybe it was for the way his wounded shoulder throbbed, knowing this was almost exactly what happened before he got bitten last time. "I don't know Keigo, I kinda get the feeling you actually like the bite. A lot." Your hand traced his shoulder now leaning up to kiss it softly from over his clothes, him inhaling in sharply "oh to hell with it, you make me want to give you more, birdie."

~don't know if you love me or you want me dead~

He walked you back towards the bed, hands cupping your cheeks on both sides, his lips locked on yours. His hands moved down the sides of your neck, slipping your shirt off to expose your shoulders and pushing you down so you sit on the bed, loving the way you were already panting breathlessly from his kiss, flushed. He pulled his shirt off still standing over you with his signature confident smirk, throwing it to the side. You smirked back as you leaned in pecking his abs before dragging your lips over them, looking at his eyes through your lashes as you moved down and mouthed over his crotch, making him shudder, watching as those same abs rippled ever so slightly. He ran his fingers through your hair letting out a shaky breath "I'm sorry if I don't trust those teeth anywhere around that area, baby girl. Plus you already know how I taste. It's my turn." You rolled your eyes leaning back on your arms behind you as he leaned in and pulled your pants off along with your panties "fine, birdie." Your blush darkening as it creeped to the tips of your ears. He huffed kicking off his jeans and kneeling in between your legs grabbing your thighs "it's Keigo." He gripped your legs and pulled you to the edge of the bed before you could retort, only managing to let out a gasp. He smirked releasing your legs when over his shoulders running his hands up over them, kissing your inner thighs, his stubble scratching lightly over your sensitive skin making you wriggle a bit. His hands grabbed your hips tightly pressing you firmly to the bed "oh no you don't." You looked down at him to whine quietly. A choice you immediately regretted. Holding eye contact he buried his face between your legs and plunged his tongue right in. You gasped arching your back, hands shooting up to grip his hair. He hummed delighted by your rich reaction, moving his face closer, nudging his nose against the sensitive bud, as his tongue switched between lapping up your juices and thrusting in through your soft, fluttering folds. You a whimpering writhing mess under him. The soles of your feet not too gently brushing against the base of his wings on his back, where they were connected through his skin, along with your fingers tangling and tugging his hair had him groaning and moaning deeply into you. He removed his tongue only to lick up a wet hot line up to your bud latching onto it and sucking just as two of his fingers pushed inside at once giving you no time in curling up and rubbing against the spot you wanted them to. "Shit! Kei-go!" You moaned loudly, your toes curled and your thighs squeezed his head as he chuckled pushing your hips down further on the bed with an arm over your belly, nails digging in your hip where they rested. The pleasure had you seeing white and Right as you were about to get tipped over the edge of your climax he stopped. His fingers and lips, all gone. "Pay back is a bitch, huh?" He wiped off his glistening wet face with his hand as You whined desperately and squeezed your legs shut when he removed them from his shoulders grinning at you "you jerk!"

He leaned over you grabbing your loose sweatshirt and pulling it over your head reaching behind you to unclip your bra as he kissed your neck "let's free these lovely things first." You huffed still annoyed but soon it started into contented sighs and quiet moans as his kisses and nips moved down to your chest. His teeth grabbed your nipple in a sharp nip and you mewled grabbing the back of his neck, your other hand moving lower between his wings. As your nails dug right in the spot between the two giant heaps of crimson feathers, he let out a loud breathy gasp freeing your abused nipple from his surprisingly sharp teeth. Evil flashed in your eyes as you smirked down at him when he gulped and looked up at you "...no." his voice was shaky "oh yeah." You replied raking your fingers on the same spot. His giant wings shook, the feathers rustling as he hissed through his teeth, grabbing your breast harshly in one hand and pulling you closer with the other fisted in your hair, crashing his lips onto yours with a feverish hunger. You were shocked, moaning into his mouth. His reaction was thrilling and you wanted to see more, tightly grabbing onto the base of his wings this time digging your nails there. He sneered and growled loudly in your mouth, sounding feral. You whimpered at the sound the reaction you got more than you bargained for. "On your hands and knees, (y/n)." He barked urging you up by his hand, still tightly fisted in your hair pulling you up. You gasped scrambling up to turn around and do as he had told you. His fingers dug in your hips and he pulled you back onto himself, in one fluid thrust, your pussy already gushing around him from his earlier change of tone. You cried out as you gripped the sheets in front of you. His wings were distracting as they spread once, engulfing you in their shadow. It felt safe, but extremely dominating. Or rather quite deliciously. He tucked them back behind himself when he leaned down over you, one hand still on your hip and the other running up your spine gripping the back of your neck tightly. He pulled back out right to the crown of his cock, before snapping his hips back inside all the way, at the same time his teeth sinking in your skin over your shoulder blade, drawing another loud cry from your throat. He set a brutal pace as his teeth worked on littering your back with bites and nips. "F-fuck!... Kei... shi-... Keigo!" Your breath coming out in short moans and gulped in with high pitched gasps. His fingers creeped from around the back of your neck towards your throat, squeezing it tight and firm, your breath and voice hitching as the thrill ran down your spine straight to your core, folds fluttering around his rock hard cock. He pulled you back up by your throat so your back was flush against his chest, your hand reaching up to claw at his wrist, squealing. His hold was not suffocating, just restricting the amount of air you were allowed. The new angle made his cock poke and drag over your walls, sending you right into your much desired orgasm eyes rolling to the back of your head. He was panting heavily and movements faltering and sloppy from holding you and himself up like that. Your cunt clenching around him, milked him dry, him moaning and biting your shoulder one last time. He remained inside you as you both came down from your highs, removing his hand from your throat to your shoulder, stroking one of his own bite marks lightly. He pulled out and let you drop on your belly with a tired sigh turning into a heavy strained "oof!" As he fell over you playfully, barely careful not to crush you. "Fuck, (y/n). Looks like I did all the biting this time." He laughed as he held himself up on his forearms gently kissing and soothing your sensitive skin. "Shut up...damn... I'm gonna bite you again if this is what I'm gonna get every time." You muttered tiredly. "I was right. You are a kinky little thing." He smirked laying down next to you this time, draping an arm over your waist and nuzzling your neck "you can bite me whenever you want, baby girl. I'm in."

~push me away, push me away

Then beg me to stay, beg me to stay~

Hey hey hey @queensynderella

[bbytetsu]

SIGNS

pairing: osamu miya x gn! reader

word count: ~3k

author’s note: angst. warnings for slight swearing, very slight suggestiveness. best read to signs by bloc party.

on the winter day marking your first year together, you’re reminded of how deeply you’ve fallen in love.

as you exit the subway station, you’re greeted by the familiar intersection splitting off into narrow streets, each lined by streetlights. the outskirts of osaka are humble, with their greige painted walls and steep, weathered roofs. but the ordinary things here—the 7/11, the spinning barber pole, the cat lingering by the red mailbox—are like landmarks to you, noticed and loved by your crescent eyes. scanning your surroundings, you turn left towards his apartment and continue straight.

5 minutes away from his place.  

you amble past the 7/11 store. traces of nikuman waft in the cold air, inviting you in. you catch yourself smiling as you see the regular obasan, red-rimmed glasses perched on her leathery skin, bantering with the store owner—they’re definitely flirting, you think. through the wide windows, you watch the local high school boys’ volleyball team scatter throughout the rainbow aisles. some squat just below your field of vision, others pore through magazines by the register.

3 minutes away from his place.

you take a left. on your right, you pass the family-owned barber shop he visits. its endlessly spinning barber pole is a welcome dash of color amidst the neutral hues of the neighborhood. across from the shop stands the house with the red mailbox. the family’s calico cat idles dangerously close to the road and licks it paws before wandering off.

1 minute away from his place.

you pass the empty bike rack, and the gated residence comes into sight at the end of the street.

it’s all the same, but suddenly it’s not.

small fluffs of white begin to obscure your vision. you glance up at the sky, and your eyes widen—it’s snowing. juxtaposed against the osaka skyline, it’s almost as if the city lights are disintegrating, their embers falling around you in the form of bright snowflakes. you watch the snow in a trance, and before you know it, winter has draped a sheer white veil over the street, dusted over naked trees with its snowy kiss.

on the winter day marking your first year together, you feel as if your love for him has overflowed and trickled out from your chest. and now it surrounds you in the form of snow. falling so softly, so wonderfully dizzyingly.

----------

“i’m here, ‘samu,” you call out in a singsong voice as you twist your spare key in the lock. pushing open the door, you’re stunned to find his place completely dark. you step into the apartment and wrangle your boots off of your feet.

“’samu? you here?” with your eyes trained on the floor for any potential tripping hazards, you tread through the dim foyer.

“yeah, i’m here.” his familiar voice rings out, partially relieving your confusion. you look up to search for his figure.

“why’s it so- oh my god, what’s all this?” you nearly trip into the kitchen. you gasp at the sight of candles casting golden highlights across the dinner table. slivers of mahogany peek in between plates of nigiri, bowls of miso, and other tableware. in the center of the table, a glass vase holds two crimson roses, petals coated with glassy dewdrops.

you try to collect your thoughts. “i thought we were just meeting here,” you pause to think. “wait, did our dinner reservation get canceled? did you call me earlier? i might’ve missed it...” you fumble for your phone in your coat pocket.

he grins a slightly lopsided grin. “ya still haven’t caught on? i didn’t actually make a reservation, i was just tryna surprise ya… seeing as ya like surprises and all that. plus,” he clears his throat. “why would we go out to dinner when i can make it myself? i hear their wasabi isn’t even freshly made.”

you’re silent as tears well up in your eyes.

“hey, you’re not about to cry, are ya?” he’s unsure whether to poke fun of you or embrace you in a warm hug.

“i just can’t believe you did this all yourself,” you whisper, still fixated on the feast in front of you. even to your untrained eyes, you can tell that each each piece was handled with precision, delicacy, but above all, love. the air between you feels thick and honeyed, suffused with all the feelings brimming in your chest.

“i mean, i do this for a living.” you glance up at him. he shrugs, but you notice the tender twinkle in his eye.

“i know, but it’s still amazing. i don’t even know what to say,” you confess.

“ya don’t have to say anythin’,” he murmurs. “just let me enjoy the quiet for once.”

“huh?” your eyebrows furrow, but your lips curl into a faint smile. “okay, i take it back. you better be prepared to listen to me all night.”

he cocks his eyebrow. “why? is there something ya wanna do all night?”

“‘SAMU! don’t twist my words,” you lunge towards him. he recoils.  

“oi, relax!!”

just as you’re about land a solid smack on his ass, he maneuvers behind you and folds his strong arms around you in a back hug. laughing, you squirm in his embrace, but he doesn’t budge.

“gotcha,” he huffs into your ear. he loosens his grip around you, allowing you to wriggle your arms above and over his. you intertwine your fingers with his, and the two of you sway from side to side like in a slow dance. he pulls your body closer to his chest.

“happy anniversary,” he whispers, as if he’s afraid that speaking any louder will disrupt the romantic atmosphere he’s so diligently crafted.

of course, you know that nothing could ruin this moment.

“mhm. happy anniversary to us.”

with his eyes closed, he breathes in your scent. the two of you are quiet—there is no need for words. the way your limbs melt into each other, no beginning or end to either of you, is enough for the both of you.

he loves you. you love him.

he’s thankful that sushi doesn’t need to be served hot. he’d hold you here for an eternity if he could.

----------

it’s funny how things change throughout the years.

you sit motionless, with both of your elbows pressed against the cold mahogany of the table. when you first sat down, the sun had just begun to creep below the skyline, wispy streaks of reds and yellows blazing in its wake. now, the sun was long gone, and your only companion was the moon, whom you know all too well these days. round and low in the dark sky, it casts shadows across the empty dinner table.

the apartment is silent besides the quiet ticking of the kitchen clock.

tick, tock. as if it’s a bomb waiting to explode. as if it’s mocking you for waiting so long. as if it’s counting down the time you have left with him.

you lean your forehead against your hands, clasped in a silent prayer. with your eyes closed, you allow any and all emotions to wash over you.

how could you forget our anniversary? does our relationship even matter to you? do i even matter to you? why am i always your second choice?  how did things end up this way?

the muffled jangle of keys outside the door interrupts your thoughts, and the lock clicks as it turns open. hours ago, you would have perked up at the sound, but now it’s been much too late. you remain motionless. after shaking his shoes off, he walks into the dim kitchen to find you sitting at the dinner table, your forehead still pressed against your clasped hands.

“you forgot,” you whisper, refusing to look at him.

“i know, y/n. i’m so-”

you cut him off. “you could’ve called. or texted.”

“i’m so sor-”

“save it. i’ve been sitting here for the last… i don’t even know how many hours. and i’ve just been thinking about what to say.”

he’s quiet. how many more mistakes will it take for you to realize he no longer loves you like he used to? you shudder at the thought, but are unable to ignore it any longer. you’ve opened pandora’s box, unleashing thick smoke that swallows you whole. it clouds your every thought and contaminates your memories with him; it stings your eyes and steals the breath from your lungs.

you begin to shake, and he watches as your breaths shorten into small, erratic gasps. his chest tightens at the sight. kneeling down onto the ground to level himself with with your seated figure, he stretches his arms towards you. but to his shock, you flinch at his touch.

“don’t!” you gasp. “don’t come near me. i don’t want that-” you’re unable to finish your sentence, sudden gasps curbing whatever words were to come next.

“y/n, i’m sorry.” his voice is low, his mouth sours with dread.

“i know. but it’s not the first time that you’ve done something like this. remember my birthday?” you choke out, burying your face in your palms.

he grimaces at the mention. “i do. but ya said ya wouldn’t bring that up again. i thought we agreed to move past that.”

“well, yeah we did. but the thing is, it’s become a pattern.”

he stands up and hovers by your seated figure. “me forgetting? it’s happened two or three times. i wouldn’t say that’s a pattern. but listen, i know i was in the wrong and and that’s why i wanna say i’m sorry. i really am.”

you look up at him with puffy, bleary eyes. red tinges your waterline. “you just don’t get it, do you?”

“whaddya mean?” his mind scrambles. get what? he replays your interactions in a frantic attempt to uncover whatever deeper meaning he was missing.

“it’s not just you missing our anniversary, or you missing my birthday. it’s so much bigger than that. all of this,” you wave your hand. “is just a symptom of the bigger problem.”

he raises an eyebrow. “i wasn’t aware we had a bigger problem.”  

his lack of awareness shocks you. how can you be so unobservant, so oblivious? all the sorrow and rage that you’ve repressed begins to bubble and overflow, like a pot of boiling water with its lid on for too long. you ball your fists as hot, stinging tears run down your cheeks. “you wanna know what it is, ‘samu?” you straighten your back and turn towards him. “it’s the fact that you no longer have room in your life for me! admit it, onigiri miya is more important to you than i am!”

“what’s onigiri miya gotta do with all this?” he retorts. his voice is grating. “i know i’ve been busy with work, but ya couldn’t possibly think that. you’ve always supported me and my dream of running my own damn restaurant, but now it’s the problem with us? the fact that i have a dream?”

“no, the fact that your dream doesn’t include me,” your voice quivers. “there’s no space for me in your future, ‘samu.”

“oh come on, ya know that’s not true. i’ve just been busy keeping up with it, especially with how business is growing.”

anger flares within you. how dare he dismiss your concerns as if they’re not legitimate? as if you’re nothing more than a small child whining for candy?

“but think about it!” you shoot up from your chair and look him in the eye. “when you envision yourself in 5 years, what do you think about? you think about onigiri miya, you think about how business is booming, critics are raving about your cooking. you’re raking in so much cash you’ve opened a new restaurant and you’re standing there in front of the new place, and maybe you’re cutting the ribbon for the grand opening. but am i there? am i standing next to you anywhere in your dream? do you think about us, where we’re going to be in five years? no, no you don’t. i’m not anywhere in the picture and you know it.”  

even in the dark, you can see his jaw clench. the rest of his features grow rigid with frustration.

he, too, has reached his boiling point.

“how can ya possibly say that?” he seethes, his tone unforgiving like steel slicing through palpable air. “i told ya already, y/n. i’m sorry. i fucked up. i missed our anniversary. i even missed your birthday. but that is not the reason we won’t work out, i won’t let that be the reason. ya know i love ya. i do. but ya wanna pit yourself against my job... don’t ya think that’s a little unfair? for fuck’s sake, not even my job, but my dream? ya know how it’s been a dream of mine since forever to open my own shop. ya know how hard it’s been, how i shed blood, sweat, and tears to open it, much less to keep it going. of all people, ya know how hard it was for me to find something i wanted alone, something that was different than ‘tsumu’s. something that would let me be my own person. and now i’ve finally found it ya wanna take it away? all because ya need attention?”

his words leave a metallic aftertaste, and he watches your features twist in pain as you confirm your growing suspicions.

he’s outgrown me.

“i- i’m sorry. i know that you’re not trying to take anything away from me,” he confesses. he wants so desperately to take back his mangled words, but it’s too late. he’s dropped a lit match onto your bed of oil, setting flame to what he once knew.  

you stand up shakily and face him: the man who taught you what it meant to love. the man who taught you what it meant to hurt.

“you’re right, i’m not. but you know what?” your voice cracks before growing raspier. “thanks for telling me that. because when i imagined my future, i always imagined a future in which you were by my side. i thought we’d move in together someday, maybe even get a dog, maybe even get married, maybe even have—oh, i don’t know—kids, and move into a house! help them with their math homework! take them to the aquarium, go on family picnics! make onigiri on sundays! but, i guess i’ve been a fucking fool, haven’t i?”  

he looks at you with wide, dinner plate eyes.

you choke back sobs, not even bothering to wipe away the wet tears trailing down your cheeks. your heart weighs heavier than lead, and you turn on your heels.

“i- y/n, wait, where are ya going?” he reaches for you, the tips of his fingers brushing against your arm as you shoulder past him.  

“outside. to think.”

as he realizes you have every intention of leaving the apartment, he trips into the hallway after you.

“wait, it’s fuckin’ freezing outside-”

“ii’ll be fine.” you forcefully grab the woolen coat off the coat rack and swing it over your shoulders.

“y/n. please, we can work this out.” you’ve never heard him like this—quiet, but painfully desperate.

too late.

“i need to think.”

you step through the doorway, not daring to look back.

----------

you trudge through the half melted snow that coats the street. as your eyes burn with tears, the faraway osaka city lights blur in your vision like a kaleidoscope. shivering, you dig your bare hands further into your pockets and clench onto the fabric—an attempt to preserve whatever heat there is, but more so as an expression of your anger.

your legs seem to move by themselves, and you grit your teeth to keep yourself from crying. how did things end up like this?

1 minute away from his place.

you hurry past the empty bike rack and the brick walls guarding the houses. the greige walls have never looked grayer.

3 minutes away from his place.

you pass by the house with the red mailbox, its obnoxious color like a warning that’s much too late. the calico cat has abandoned you and is nowhere to be seen. the spinning barber pole taunts you with its endless dance.

5 minutes away from his place.

you pass by the 7/11. there’s no one in the store except for the regular obasan, whose wrinkles are drawn taut in a frown. you watch as she fires words at the shopowner, her one hand pointing at him animatedly and the other resting on her hip. they’re definitely arguing, you think.

you finally reach the open intersection in front of the subway station. leaning against a streetlight, you survey the neighborhood defeatedly, trying to find beauty in the surroundings you once regarded with so much affection. trying to find a sign. water seeps off of branches and falls onto the pavement like teardrops. the steep-roofed houses huddle together in the cold, their walls practically rubbing against each other.

it’s all the same, but it’s somehow different.

you look down at your feet, slush coating the edges of your shoes. it pains you to see that the the snow is no longer bright or pure, but translucent. tinted an ugly brown. with footprints littered across its surface.

on the winter day marking your fourth year together, the snow you loved so much has melted into slush, revealing nothing but barren soil beneath.

it’s over between us.