#that I wanted the different pieces to be different people so I could make the need to think about my issues go away

[somuchanxietysolittletime]

Yesterday, I was nobody. I went hungry every other week, saving money for the light bill. I complained about the price of eggs, but bought them anyway. I had big opinions about the government, but never voiced them in any meaningful way. I was a star, in that I was surrounded by trillions of brighter lights in the night sky and destined to be extinguished without anyone noticing.

Today, I was woken up by tires screeching to a halt outside. A line of black vehicles tore through whatever counted as my yard, encircling the tiny trailer I called home.

"Honey, stay calm." My husband said, sitting on the edge of our bed and staring out at the chaos. Calm. The quiet of the morning was ruined by the beat of blades above.

Helicopters?

I opened my mouth to say something, anything.

"This is a good day for you. The CIA didn't make it first." My husband was saying.

My mind reeled. "The CIA?" I repeated as he pushed me to the laundry.

"You'll want to get dressed. Here's your favorite shirt, I already pressed it for you."

When did he learn to do that? We had an old iron, but it was never used. Not since we started working remotely. The computer screen didn't mind wrinkled shirts.

"Who's outside?" I asked as I pulled on a jade green shirt, tucking it into my favorite leggings.

"Don't freak out."

"I won't."

"You always do." He said in resignation. "Outside is General MacAvoy, he will take you to our acting president."

I freaked out.

"The president?" My voice cracked, my mind reeled. "This is a joke. You set up a joke. How did you set this up?"

He steadied me. I blinked away tears until he looked clear again.

"Listen, they are going to let me explain first, because you respond best when I do."

"Do I have amnesia? Retrograde?" I ask, trying to piece together the broken information I was given. My husband didn't look a day older. The same pile of laundry sat undisturbed on our dryer, as it did when I went to sleep last night. A scratch marked by wrist, from where I picked too hard at a scab just days before.

No, not amnesia.

"You already know it's not." My husband confirmed. "The world has been locked, repeating the same 24 hours for the last... God... Fifteen thousand years, now?"

I opened my mouth again, trying to even process that amount of time.

My husband rubbed his hands down my arms, smiling despite the grim news.

"I can't even imagine..." We say at the same time.

"You knew I'd..." He says with me again.

"Is this all you've known?" My voice is weak, his is strong.

"I know you." He continues, stroking a hand down my face. "Every facet of you now. Every secret. I spent hundreds of years hiding you from the rest of the world, to keep anyone from learning that you weren't looping."

"Why?" I ask, a chill running up a spine.

He looks at me patiently, and I knew. Being different was dangerous. "It started with people wanting to know you, because you didn't see everything coming. You were easily surprised, and it added fun to their lives. Then they looked down on you, because we all grew while you stayed the same. Then you became the closest thing to a child we have. Even toddlers outstripped you."

A felt a prick in my pride, jutting my jaw out in something close to a pout.

He kisses me, soft and gentle. "It's fine. You just had less time." He stroked back my wild hair. "But then, things took a turn. Cruel thrill seekers would race to our home, because you're the only person who hasn't become numb to dying. To being killed. They loved your fear. And the CIA filled itself with so-called scientists who thought you could break the loop, if they could just study your every dissected cell closely enough."

His hands trembled. Slightly. Almost imperceptively. "You've died so many ways. Died screaming, every time. Sometimes, I just let it happen. I got so tired of protecting you, just to fail at it again and again. Rinse and repeat."

I swallowed hard, wanting to comfort him. How? How would I even begin? "I forgive you." My words feel distant.

He smiled, "You always do. And that makes it so much worse."

The door opens, and in walks a man. No, a boy. He barely reached my ribs, with strawberry blond curls and big green eyes. A child.

"I am not a child." The boy said, hands folded behind his back. "I am General MacAvoy. For the next twenty-three hours you are in my protection, as you have been for the last two years. Ma'am, we will keep you safe."

I swallow.

Yesterday, I was a nobody.

God, I wish I still was.

Apparently, you are living in a time loop. Also apparently, you are the only person on Earth who DOESN'T remember the previous iterations. This is the first time you've experienced today; the rest of humanity has been stuck reliving today for years now.

[eunandonly]

HOW BOYNEXTDOOR LOVES YOU

how boynextdoor shows their love for you, even if it isn't always by words

( 対 ) boynextdoor + fem. reader 1230WC · tooth rotting fluff contains! skinship, kissing so cheesy holy sharts / archive

은 : sorry for posting so late >< i've been so busy lately because of exams and couldn't post, but i'm back now ^^ i hope you enjoy ~

myung jaehyun

with myung jaehyun, love isn’t just quiet care. it’s a bit like him; bubbly and playful. he’ll throw his jacket over you with a little joke and a smile that warms you up more than the jacket itself, winking as he pulls the lapels up dramatically to keep you protected from the cold wind. 

he notices things, even if he pretends not to. “you’re holding your bag funny. give it to me.” he’ll say, taking it from you before you can even protest. it doesn’t matter if it weighs a ton. jaehyun will carry it for you.

on rainy days when you two are sharing an umbrella, he’ll tilt it to your side so you’re protected from the raindrops even as his side gets drenched in rainwater. when you try to tilt the umbrella back to him, or tell him to get under it properly, he’ll just smile and say, “i like the rain.” before giving you a peck on the cheek.

and with all this, jaehyun never expects anything in return. jaehyun gives his love without expectation or demand because, well, he loves you.

park sungho

sungho could listen to you talk forever. whatever nonsense you say, whatever irrelevant thing you’re rambling about, if it’s you, it becomes poetry to park sungho. 

sungho remembers the smallest details about you. he remembers the way you take your coffee, the name of the book you once mentioned during a conversation, the exact shade of the sky on the day you first said “i love you.”

sometimes, he even remembers the things you forget; the date of your childhood hamster’s birthday, the lyrics to a song you used to hum under your beeath as you busied yourself in the kitchen- which he took the time to figure out what song it exactly was so he could play it for you on the guitar one day- the way you scrunch your nose when you’re deep in thought. some people say these random bits and pieces of you are useless, but sungho keeps them close, storing the, in the quiet corners of his mind to pull out when the time is just right.

“you like this one, right?” sungho will say, handing you a drink exactly the way you like it. “you wanted to watch this movie,” he’ll murmur as he turns on a film you mentioned briefly weeks ago. “you always sleep better when it rains,” he’ll say, opening a window when the first drops hit the pavement.

park sungho says your name like it’s the most beautiful word in the world. it’s not just a name to him, it’s much more than that. 

lee sanghyuk

riwoo often reaches for you without realising. his fingers brush yours when you’re walking side by side, barely a whisper of his warm skin against yours, but enough to make your breath hitch. he tucks a stray strand of hair behind our ear absentmindedly during conversations, his touch light as if he’s handling delicate glass.

riwoo doesn’t even notice how often he does it. how his body naturally gravitates towards yours like second nature. when you’re laughing, he leans in just a little closer. you have a pretty laugh. when you’re focused on something, his hand settles on your wrist.

riwoo’s actions aren’t calculated. they’re not meant to fluster you. it’s simply how he is. his the type of person whose love is felt in the warmth of his palm against you break as he guides you through the door, in the way his knee knocks against yours under the table, in the way his drapes his arm around you.

sometimes when riwoo realises, it's different. the moment he realises that his fingers linger too long, that his touch isn’t just habit but something more, he hesitates. his eyes flicking to yours to make sure you’re not uncomfortable in any way. when he gets your reassurance, he shakes off any doubt with a small smile, his hand staying where it is.

han dongmin

taesan’s love is found in ink stained fingers and the way his lyrics always seem to sound like you. he doesn’t always say it outright, it’s not always blatantly there. but if you listen carefully, you’re woven into every song, every notes, every unfinished berse scribbled in the margins of his notebook.

maybe taesan doesn’t say “i love you” in the way others. but he’ll give you pieces of himself in a song, in a melody, in the esy his voice and eyes soften when he sings the lines that remind him of you.

when you can’t sleep in late hours of the night, taesan will sing you to sleep with a new song he worked on earlier that day, smiling down at you fondly as you doze off to his soft voice.

it’s taesan’s way of showing you love. he might not be the best and telling you exactly how much he loves you with words, but his music says enough for you to know. the lyrics that are always referencing you in one way or another, the melody that sounds a bit too much like your pretty laugh. he writes about late night talks and your pretty eyes, the way the silence between you two are comforting instead of lonely.

kim donghyun

leehan’s love for you is found in the way he looks at you- like you hold the stars in your hands, like you’re the only person existing in the vast universe. his gaze lingers a second too long, that moment always filled with unspoken words that can’t quite be translated into words.

it’s the way leehan’s pretty eyes soften when you talk, the way he watches you even when you’re not looking, memorising each and every detail of your face. he thinks you’re the best thing that ever happened to him, and he can’t help but admire you.

you’ll sometimes feel a gaze locked on you when you’re busy with something- cooking, studying, you name it. and when you turn, it’ll be leehan, staring at you with soft eyes and a gentle smile that only holds fondness. seeing you flustered from his gaze only makes him watch you more, smile widening when your cheeks turn pimk as you pretend you didn’t see him staring at you like that.

when you finally meet leehan’s gaze, when you finally catch the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters, you’ll understand just how much leehan loves you, even if it’s done quietly.

kim woonhak

woonhak’s love for you is found in laughter, the kind that leaves you breathless with a pain on your side, the kind that turns even the worst days into something bearable.

woonhak’s the person who notices when you’re quiet with tired eyes and a smile that doesn’t quite reach the eyes. instead of asking what’s wrong and focing out words you don’t have, he nudges you with his shoulder, makes a ridiculous face and cracks the woest joke you’ve ever heard since you existed.

and somehow, somehow, it works.

perhaps the joke is so terrible, it made you laugh, or maybe it’s just that face woonhak made, but it gets a smile out of you. and that’s all he needs. 

woonhak always seems to know what you need. and when you laugh, the weight lifting just a little, he smiles like he’s gotten the whole world. 

well, to woonhak, he has.

[creatingblackcharacters]

could i please ask for clarification on your post here?

"But I have been questioning. I answer a lot of questions on character design. And there were a ton of submissions for the Black characters and entertainers that we loved. That is all well and good!

However, when I present an opportunity to apply, to create a piece to speak directly to a Black audience, whose support we want, who we claim to want to represent respectfully and ask for so many resources to do so... It seems like it's been a lot quieter."

does this means you would like non-Black people to share their works with Black characters here more? or am i misunderstanding? sorry for the trouble and thanks for all of your resources

It means this:

I will admit, perhaps I was too ambitious in this challenge and I might just cancel it 😅 but we can at least use this as a reflection experience. Everything is a lesson!

We live in a society that often writes media with a white audience in mind. On this page, one of my key goals is to shift your perspective to actively think about your Black audience when you create Black characters, because when you recognize and care about someone's humanity, you recognize that getting the depiction of their humanity correct matters. And thus, you should work more intentionally to get it right.

So when I asked everyone to participate in the challenge in September, to submit all their favorite Black characters and actors- a source of entertainment- everyone had a lot to say. And that was good, we should love Black characters! And every day I am being asked questions with the intent of creation, so clearly something is being attempted!

But when I ask you to apply by showing that same sort of kindness toward the people, to create something specifically for a Black audience for this one time event during Black History Month, there seems to be nerves and confusion.

And it makes me realize I asked the wrong reflection questions in the beginning, when I really should have asked... Who is this effort for, if it's not with your Black audience in mind? Do you actually care about your Black audience, or do you just care about not being perceived as antiblack? Because those are two different things, and these are things we have to be honest with ourselves over if we want to create more intentionally!

I am challenging you to do something that should not be that hard- to openly care about your audience the way you care about using their image- but is something many nonblack creators simply do not consider. And that's why their Black characters so often miss the mark!

[reomikagekin]

Hiii! I’m so sorry but do you do family stuff? I know a lot of people aren’t comfortable with it so I totally understand if not!! Ignore this question I’d not.

(If you are comfortable is it okay if I request luka from alien stage and little sibling reader he barely gets to see due to them being in Anakt garden?? platonic obviously :) I hope you’re doing well!!)

yes of course I'm comfortable writing it!!

Paper Wings

(Luka & Little Sibling Reader)

(Platonic)

Luka didn’t sleep much anymore.

Between securing his place in the competition and keeping his influence from slipping, rest had become a luxury he couldn’t afford. But even on the rare nights he found time to close his eyes, his mind always circled back to one thing.

You.

And how little time you had left.

Tonight was no different. When the transmission connected, he saw you sitting on your bed, cross-legged, folding a piece of paper.

"Origami?" Luka asked, raising an eyebrow. "Didn’t know you had time for hobbies."

"I don’t," you said, folding another crease. "But it helps."

"With?"

You hesitated before shrugging. "Everything."

Luka didn’t press. He watched as you unfolded the paper, smoothed it out, then started again.

"You're stalling," he noted.

You sighed. "I don’t want to talk about tomorrow."

Tomorrow.

Your next performance.

Your next chance to survive—or fail trying.

Luka tapped his fingers against the table. "Then let’s talk about something else."

You glanced at him, surprised. "...Like what?"

"Anything."

For a second, you didn’t answer. Then, quietly, you asked:

"Do you ever think about leaving?"

Luka’s fingers stilled.

"Leaving?" he repeated.

"Yeah." You smoothed out another fold, gaze dropping. "Getting out of here. Running away."

Luka laughed softly. "You think there's anywhere left to run?"You swallowed. "I don’t know. Maybe."

He tilted his head, considering you. He had thought about it before, of course. A world outside the stage. A life without constant performances, without strings being pulled in the dark.

But Luka didn’t believe in fairytales.

"You wouldn’t make it," he said finally.

You flinched. Just barely.

"...I know," you murmured.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The only sound was the faint rustling of paper in your hands.

Luka exhaled, slow and measured. "If you do well tomorrow, I'll find a way to visit."

You blinked. "You promise?"

Luka smiled. "Have I ever lied to you?"

You gave him a look. "Yes."

He laughed. "Then you'll just have to trust me this time."

The screen flickered, warning of disconnection.

"Hey, Luka?"

"Hm?"

You lifted the finished origami in front of the camera. A paper crane.

"If I win, I want to see the sky."

The transmission cut off before Luka could respond.

He stared at the dark screen, the ghost of your words lingering in his head.

A paper crane.

And a wish that had no place in a world like this.

[meguchi512]

hey thank you so much genuinely, it means a lot when people take a closer look at what I make (it already means a lot when it's "just" a like honestly lol), can't thank you enough for taking the time to write this out. :^)

however I also wanted to take this chance to make a clarification about the "lyrics" in this artwork, because I usually put a decent amount of thought into things like this and I never get to rant about it because I really like it when people find things out by themselves!

funnily enough though... I've never heard that song before (until now! it's pretty catchy)... and it's actually taken from a 16th-17th century Spanish poem lol.

I had a literature unit at school in which we analized poems, in terms of rhythm, meaning, literary resources, you get the drill. I'm from a spanish-speaking country so we did this in spanish, with mostly spanish and latin-american poems, and one of the poets whose work we analized was Francisco de Quevedo.

so we started analyzing "Amor constante más allá de la muerte" ("Love constant beyond death"), a poem that took like 5 and a half lessons to work with. not that it wasn't fun, I enjoyed it throughoutly, but the monotony got to me and by the end of the week I could recite the whole 14-line poem by memory in spanish. and naturally, I made it about kanamafu.

when I finished this piece I knew I wanted to include it somewhere, and since most of the people who follow me speak english I thought I'd look for a translation. and I found this one by A. S. Kline:

The last shadow that the bright day brings me

May possess the power to close my eyes

And, that hour, release this soul of mine

To its eagerly, anxiously awaited favours,

Yet, on the other side, upon that shore,

It will not leave its memories behind;

Their ardent flame will conquer icy water, 

Paying scant respect to the harshest law.

Soul that has been godlike in its prison –

Of veins that gave moisture to the fire,

Of marrow that once gloriously burned: 

The body, you’ll abandon, not its cares;

They will be ash, but ash that yet feels;

Dust they will be, but an amorous dust.

this is a great translation, but I really wanted it to rhyme, plus there were some lines that I had interpreted differently while reading it in spanish*.

*"...Serán cenizas, más tendrá sentido..."; I interpreted the usage of "tendrá sentido" to mean "it will make sense", yet Kline interprets it as "it will feel". my interpretation is "when I'm dead and gone, and only ashes are left of me, not even those ashes will cease to have my purpose, which is to love you", while Kline's is "when I'm dead and gone, and only ashes are left of me, those ashes will still be able to feel love for you". both have the meaning of undying love and Kline's is probably more accurate for what the poet originally intended, I'm just a teenager having fun lol.

so. I made it rhyme! the original poem's structure was ABBA CDC, but for the sake of making it work I had to make it into AABA CCD. this is the result, obtained through looking both at Kline's translation and the original poem:

The last shadow to take me on that white morning

May possess the power to close my eyelids

And at that hour, unfold this soul of mine

To its eagerly, anxiously awaited flattering,

Yet, on the other side, upon that shore,

It will not leave the memory in which it burnt;

For my flame knows to swim through icy water, 

Losing respect to the harshest law.

A soul which every god has been prison to,

Of veins that to the fire have lent moisture,

Of marrow that has once gloriously burnt: 

Its body it will leave, yet not its cares;

They will be ash, yet it will make sense;

Dust they will be, yet dust enamoured.

the biggest change made here was changing "day" to "morning" and "eyes" to "eyelids", however I think it doesn't take much away from it since "the white day" originally meant "the day in which death shall take me", and morning generally means new beginnings so I guess it's an interesting twist though not perfectly accurate.

I also didn't take rhythm into account since I'm not sure how that works in english. you guys have really confusing syllables. I went with what sounded good enough for me lol.

anyways, rant's over, unless anyone wants me to become the yap monster. I'm not sure many people will read this but I hope it interests someone nonetheless.

fun fact: in HEARTWORM/"Love constant beyond death", the HEARTWORM part is not a reference to the poem but a play on how Mafuyu's heart is often represented by an apple and Kanade is vibing on her heart like a worm on an apple. it's also a severe heart disease which doesn't affect rabbits, which don't get me wrong that's great for them but god it would've wrapped it all together so nicely...

HEARTWORM/"Love constant beyond death"

[bcksbarnes]

snipped

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: bucky is feeling plagued by his past so he asks you to cut his hair.

word count: 1.2K

genre: fluff, sad!bucky

bucky wasn’t entirely sure that he wanted to do this, unfortunately his hair had been apart of him for so long that it was like an extension of himself. it was both a mask that represented a time that he wished to forget, and a reminder of the better human he needed to become. but, the thoughts of the tragedies he caused while looking the way did weighed heavy on his mind. he already spent most of his nights woke up with nightmares from his time as the winter solider, he couldn’t continue looking in the mirror and feeling the same way as well. 

“hey,” he says as he walks into your bedroom, leaning against the doorframe while he watches you lay in bed. when you don’t respond right away he calls your name, causing you to look up from your phone with a small blush on your cheeks. 

“sorry, nat’s on a date and i wanted to see how it was going.” you respond, placing the phone next to you on the bed. 

“did she answer?” he asks, a small smile on his face as he watches you. 

“yeah, she said he’s boring. what else is new.” you tease, your eyes raking over his face. it only takes you a second to realize he’s uneasy. “what’s wrong?” 

you two had been together long enough that it didn’t take much for you to know when bucky was upset or thinking about something. his usual quiet and brooding behavior was always met with small quirks like tapping his foot or biting his top lip when there was something on his mind. this time it was the former. 

he sighs as he kicks off the door frame, moving to the edge of the bed and sitting down, still an arms length away from you as he tries to think of how best to approach the topic. 

“can you cut my hair?” he lays it out, his fingers picking at a piece of lint at the bedspread, feeling sheepish as he doesn’t meet your eyes. he’s embarrassed by this for some reason. he’s cut his own hair before, usually when he was on the run and was able to find a rusty pair of scissors, but that was usually just a trim and now there’s something about the meaning behind this that makes it hard for him. 

your gaze softens as you hear his request, sitting up further on the bed as you wait to see if there was anything else he was going to say. when you were met with silence you speak up. 

“of course i can.”  

bucky looks over at you, his smile had faded a few moments ago and now all he could think about was how this was going to feel. liberated? angry? happy? he wasn’t too sure, and maybe that’s what scared him the most. 

he had done horrible things as the winter solider, things that he could never forgive himself for, but life was different now. he was deprogrammed, he was helping people, he met you and he was starting to feel like he was allowed a life of not always having his demons follow him around. he was ready to move forward. 

“hey.” you move off the bed to stand in front of him, your hand moving to gently grab his chin and tilt his head up towards you. “we don’t have to do this if you’re not ready, bucky.” 

he sighs softly at your touch, his hands moving to rest at your hips as he pulls you a bit closer, your legs slotted between his. it’s intimate and full of affection, you two always know how to keep your touches light but meaningul. 

“i am ready.” though he sounds like he’s trying to convince himself by saying it out loud. “i think ... i’m ready to stop torturing myself every day with the reminder of my past. i want to move forward. i want to show myself that i’m capable of moving forward.” 

your heart aches at his words because you will never understand the pain he goes through everyday, but there was nothing that was going to stop you from supporting him. your hand moves from his chin to cup both of his cheeks, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his forehead. his grip on your hips tighten a bit as you hear him let out a shuttering breath that he had been holding in. 

his hands move up to press against yours, keeping your touch on his face close for a moment as he relishes in the comfort. and despite popular belief, bucky barnes needed comfort. 

it’s a few minutes later that the two of you are in the bathroom, bucky is sitting on a folding chair he managed to find and you had both the scissors and clippers ready to go.  

“are you sure?” you stand behind him as he sits, your hands on his shoulders as your gazes meet in the mirror in front of you. he nods his head softly, saying everything that he’s incapable of verbalizing in that moment. “okay, i’ve only cut hair like once so if it comes out bad don’t hate me for it.”  

bucky cracks a small smile before he closes his eyes, letting out one last deep breath before you get to work. a comb works through his long hair one last time, getting all the knots out as you place it in a short ponytail.  

the metal scissors are in your hand and you whisper a soft you got this to him before you begin to cut. it takes a second to cut through it all but before you knew it you were holding onto most of it in the ponytail. it was shorter, shaggier, needed to be buzzed down and given a little height – but he looked good. different, but good. 

you can feel the way he shifts anxiously while you use the clippers, having to tell him to stop moving on a few occasions so you didn’t accidentally cut him, but it’s over almost as soon as it starts, his eyes still closed tightly not wanting to look until the finish product. 

your hands find their way back to his shoulders once you put your tools down, taking a moment to admire your work and how different he looks. you bring your lips down near his ear. 

“you can open your eyes, buck.” 

a beat passes and you can tell he’s nervous to but he has to face it at some point. one last deep breath leaves his lips before his eyes flutter open, landing on the mirror in front of him. 

he doesn’t speak for a minute, his eyes taking in his features and his new defined haircut. it looks great, if you say so yourself, but in that moment he’s hard to read and you’re not sure what he’s going to say. 

bucky rests his elbows on his knees and his head drops forward, your hand soothingly rubbing his back. when he looks up again his eyes are red and teary, the moment obviously catching him off guard with how much it would mean to him. 

“how do you feel?” your voice is soft, keeping the both of you grounded in this moment which you know he appreciates.  

a tear slips from his eyes and he runs a hand through his freshly cut hair. one word slips through his lips. 

“free.” 

[reflectionsofacreator]

[takes a long drink from my Arizona iced tea] so like one of the central themes for FFXV is like, growing up, sure. You know that, I know that, whatever. Coming of age, coming into your own, taking the mantle of king, whatever you wanna call it. Cool, awesome, we love a good coming of age story!

But I find the sub theme of that one to be probably the most fascinating? By and large, all the chocobros have to deal with the fallout of being lied to by the adult figures in their lives, and it's the most prevalent with Noctis and Gladio. Don't get me wrong, there's a lot of it in Ignis and Prompto too, but the particularly insidious way that Noctis and especially Gladio were lied to sometimes gets me.

See I don't even really think it was actually all that intentional. Not really a conscious act by Regis and Clarus, or the society around them? More like... I dunno, the lies that you get told by your parents as a little kid and you grow up to realize that the world is a lot different than you thought.

That being said, Noctis was absolutely lied to by his father; both about the nature of the King of Light and the idea that he'd succeed Regis as reigning monarch. Regis did it out of love, knowing that Noctis would die young, and reasoned that Noctis should get to have a relatively normal life, but it was still a lie. Gladio, likewise, was lied to by his father and Regis, told that he would be the next monarch's Shield, that he would fulfill a role that's got a pretty set expectation in their society.

See, Gladio expects Noctis to act a certain way, to act as King, and he gets increasingly frustrated when Noctis doesn't, or can't live up to that. He's not precisely wrong to expect it either, given their roles and their statues, and knowing that they're taking the throne during a full blown war. The problem is that Noctis was never taught how to be the thing that Gladio was told Noctis was going to be? And that's what causes friction with them all the time. It's fascinating, watching it play out and realizing the underlying issues with their relationships actually have very little to do with them as people and instead because of what they were told to expect from each other.

Gladio is also his own kettle of fish that I don't think the narrative is quite self aware enough to articulate properly, or even get into. Gladio falls into the trap of toxic masculinity very often -- struggling to articulate his feelings, expressing most of his feelings as anger, picking fights rather than talking about what's going on, using his strength as both a character aspect and bonus, etc. The list goes on. There's also the fact that he's sort of portrayed as a bit of a womanizer and the masculine ideal; tall, rugged, strong, etc which plays into all of that. XV plays him very straight (and straight) with these concepts, and just sort of ... expects it to be fine? Which is at odds with how the other three bros interact and are more emotionally available towards each other, leaving Gladio as one of the weaker bros in canon.

It kind of sucks too, because like, there's so much to unpack with him? His DLC is about wanting to have the strength to protect Noctis on the surface, but really when you look at it... you could also argue that the DLC is about Gladio's fears that he'll end up as dead as his dad did (ha, try that for alliteration) and the crushing weight of failure. Gladio has every right to fear his mortality, fear the fact that he is, nominally, the first in line on the battlefield and the the last defense for Noctis. If Noctis is to die, they will go through him first, and that's! Scary! But the game doesn't really get into that, hardly at all, and it makes picking up the pieces for Gladio kind of frustrating. Out of all the bros, he's the one I have to dig the most to find any kind of depth despite being prime real estate for it.

Anyways Gladio and Noctis' dynamic is fascinating if you actually start to unpack it, especially because it's built on the lies that their fathers fed them as children (that they themselves also bought into). I'd go so far to argue that between the two pairs, Noct/Gladio is in much more of a dire need to sit down and actually hash out what they are to each other, outside of their king/shield dynamic. Noct/Iggy certainly has shades of that, but Ignis has decided that they are friends and that he will defy fate if he must, let the world burn if he must, to save Noct's life. That has some depth beyond king/retainer that they're presented as. Noct/Gladio are sort of just... falling into the king/shield dynamic because they're expected to, and it sort of hampers their relationship and their communication.

I'm gonna scramble them both like eggs, probably into an omelette. They make me Think you know

[burningembers91]

Fatherly Disdain - Nam-Gyu x Fem!Reader

Follow up piece to:

Outside Looking In In the Bleak Midwinter Without You Looking Up

Synopsis: Desperate to reconnect with his family, Nam-Gyu agrees to attend dinner with his estranged father, who drops a bombshell on you, threatening everything you've worked so hard for

It was the strong, bold smell of the coffee that awoke you. The rich, dark aroma floated sensually from the cup to your nose, entwining itself around your senses and pulling you from your deep sleep. Nam-Gyu had placed the large cup on your bedside table, complete with his usual sticky note he left each morning, reminding you how much he loved you.

He left so early for work these days, up before the sun rose to go for a run through the neighbourhood, before heading to the office. He was a completely different man these days, so far removed from the one you’d met outside of your old club. These days, Nam-Gyu valued exercise and early mornings, he cooked for you, cleaned the apartment, and did all the grocery shopping. With him around, you never had to lift a finger. You felt guilty sometimes, feeling that you weren’t doing enough around the house, but Nam-Gyu assured you that he liked taking care of you.

He’d always wanted someone like you, someone that he was excited to wake up next to, someone he could spend every day with. He no longer desired the fickle popularity that came with club promoting, finding peace in the cozy existence he shared with you. He relished slow, lazy mornings on your days off, trips to the supermarket and local coffee shop. He would take a night with you on the sofa, with a movie and takeout over a night out drinking with people who couldn’t even be bothered to learn his name. Nam-Gyu would cringe when he thought about the person he used to be, so desperate for the validation of strangers. Now all he needed was you, his friends, and his family.

His job as a Junior Finance Assistant was going well, the people in his small office feeling more like family than colleagues. For the first time, he had a real group of friends, ones that he ate lunch with, went out for drinks and dinner with; he knew these people had his back. His relationships with his brothers had improved, and you were regular visitors to their homes for dinner a few times a month. Nam-Gyu had even reconnected with his mother, filling her in on the past few months and telling her all about the woman who had changed her son so drastically. Everyone was so proud of Nam-Gyu, everyone except his father.

No matter how many times his family sang his praises, Nam-Gyu’s dad wasn’t interested in seeing for himself how much his son had changed. As far he was concerned, Nam-Gyu had been given enough chances to change, and he hadn’t bothered to do so until it was too late.

“He’ll come around,” you told him one day, but you didn’t know his father. Growing up, his home had been a dictatorship, and if you didn’t follow the rules, you were cast out. As much as it hurt Nam-Gyu that he no longer had a relationship with his dad, he chose to focus on the relationships he did have.

He met his mum for coffee once a week during his lunch break, catching her up on his life. “I’d like for you to come for dinner,” she said to him to one day, “It’s been so long since you’ve been home.” “Mum,” Nam-Gyu sighed, tired of having the same conversation again and again. “You know dad doesn’t want me there. He said so himself.” “But I want you there,” she smiled, “you’re my son, and I never should have let you leave.” Nam-Gyu understood his mother’s regret over making him leave, but if he hadn’t left, he probably wouldn’t be with you. He would probably still be standing out in the cold, loving you from afar. “Please,” his mum begged, “this Thursday, come for dinner. You don’t have to stay long, but I miss you.”

You could tell he was nervous about seeing his father again, could see how jittery he was the night before. He’d left extra early this morning, choosing a longer running route to try and dispel some of the anxiety that coursed through his veins. After you finished your coffee, you made sure to tidy the apartment, giving Nam-Gyu one less thing to worry about when he got home.

“It’s going to be ok,” you soothed as you watched him retie his tie for the third time. “It’s just dinner.” You took the silky fabric from his shaking hands, assembling a basic knot for him. You’d never seen Nam-Gyu so dressed up before, not even for work. “Does this shirt look ok with these pants?” He asked, angrily stripping them off. Everything needed to be perfect, and he looked anything but. “Nam-Gyu,” you soothed, “they look really good. Put the pants back on, take a breath and let’s get going, or we’ll miss our bus.”

You waited patiently for him to redress, before pulling him in for one last kiss. You could feel him shaking against you, could see the sweat beading on his brow. “If you feel uncomfortable, we’ll leave,” you said, your stomach twisting into uncomfortable knots as you saw how anxious he was. Nam-Gyu simply nodded, taking a deep intake of breath as he slicked back his hair. He so badly wanted tonight to go well, but he knew his father, and he knew that this dinner would not be an easy one.

You arrived at Nam-Gyu’s parents house at 7pm on the dot. His father detested lateness, something that his son had frequently been during his time living under his roof. He clutched the bouquet of flowers that you’d picked out for his mother, his palms sweaty against the cellophane wrapping. You gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before the front door swung open.

Nam-Gyu’s father stood before you, his face stony. “On time for once I see,” he sneered, “first time for everything I suppose.” He stepped aside to let you in, eyeing his son with disdain. His shirt was ill-fitting, his tie too much for a casual dinner and his pants were entirely unsuitable. As for you, his father had no words. “It’s nice to meet you,” you smiled, bowing low, ensuring you treated the man with the utmost respect. You could see why Nam-Gyu had been so nervous about coming tonight; his dad had put the fear of God into you.

You didn’t get a response to your greeting, his father leaving the two of you standing in the entryway. You both looked at each other, Nam-Gyu shrugging sadly. As you made your way through, the most incredible smells hit you. There was enough food to feed an entire army, and Nam-Gyu’s mother had evidently been cooking for most of the day. she greeted you with love and warmth, ushering you to the table. You tried hard to make conversation, but Nam-Gyu father wasn’t interested. He answered every question with silence, instead choosing to stare directly at the wall behind you. You couldn’t believe this was how Nam-Gyu spent his childhood, living in the shadow of such a cruel man.

What his father lacked in social graces, his mum more than made up for. She was so excited to hear about your life and your jobs, what you did for fun and who your friends were. You almost forgot his father was sat opposite you as you laughed and joked with Nam-Gyu and his mum. You could see how much love she had for her son, and how much love he had for her in return.

It wasn’t until his father loudly cleared his throat, that you remembered he was still there. Reaching across the table, he handed Nam-Gyu an envelope. “Je-Mun,” his mum whispered, “don’t do this.” You noticed she didn’t make eye contact when she spoke to her husband, and you saw the way the smile quickly faded from your boyfriend’s face.

“What is this?” he asked, looking back and forth between his parents. “My invoice,” his father simply said. Opening the envelope, Nam-Gyu found an itemised invoice for overdue rent, bills, money loaned and food eaten from 2012 – 2024. “What is this?” he asked again, his face pale.

“It’s what you owe me,” his father stated, “that is what your upkeep cost for the twelve years you were leeching off me. Now that you have a job, you can finally pay me back.” The table was stunned into silence, no one quite knowing what to say. The invoice was meticulously detailed, down to the brand of soap Nam-Gyu had used. Had his father really been keeping this kind of record? “This isn’t fair,” you snapped, “you can’t do that.” “I think you’ll find I can do what I like,” Je-Mun grunted back, barely acknowledging you as he spoke. “I will be happy to accept monthly instalments, but I do expect the amount to be paid back in full.” You noticed with sickening disgust that your dinner tonight had also been added to the bill.

Nam-Gyu couldn’t take this, the utter humiliation was beyond suffocating. You made your excuses and left shortly after; his father’s invoice clutched tightly in his hand. you didn’t speak on the way home, his face ghostly white as he tried to figure out how he would pay back such an extortionate sum. He was sure his father had never charged his brothers for their medical degree, so why was he so different?

“You can’t seriously be thinking about paying that back,” you cried when you finally made it back home. “That’s insanity! Who does that kind of thing?” “I’m going to have to,” he whispered, slumping down on the sofa. Just this morning, he’d been so happy and now his world was once again crumbling away. His father would not accept non-payment, but Nam-Gyu had no idea how he’d pay him back. “Can you talk to your brothers?” you asked, “can they make him see sense?” “I really don’t know,” he muttered, “I just… I need some air.”

Nam-Gyu threw on his running gear, heading out of the door and into the night. He ran for miles, his mind whirring as he weighed up his options. He’d been putting money aside each month for a bigger place for the both of you, hoping you’d one day be able to move somewhere with enough space to start a family. Now, he wasn’t even sure how he’d afford to pay the bills on your current place. He’d always known his father was a bastard, but he didn’t think he was that cruel. It was a ploy to humiliate him, to make Nam-Gyu feel worthless.

By the time he arrived back at the apartment, Nam-Gyu had made up his mind. He would no longer allow his father to intimidate him, to make him feel small. He wouldn’t allow himself to be bullied by the man who was supposed to love him. If his father was so desperate for his money, he would have to come and take it by force.  

[organic-bloodbath]

Heyyy I was wondering if I could request a little smt smt from you

I’ve just found out that National Shower with a Friend Day is today (I think its an American idk) and I was wondering if we could pretend its an international day and write a story about Kang Dae-Ho discovering it and asking his friend (reader) to shower with him 👀👀👀

Friends to lovers vibes yk

No pressure if you dont want to do this lol

Shower confessions

Dae-ho x Reader

Summary: A moment in the shower together takes a turn in your friendship.

A/N: I'm European so i had never heard of that before lmao. But i had fun writing it and i hope you have fun reading it ♡

☆☆☆

You and Dae-ho had been friends for the past 5 years. You knew everything about him and he about you – he was your best friend in your entire life. You were closer to him than with any other friend of yours, some people already thought that the two of you were dating but your friendship had always been completely platonic. Dae-ho had never implied or made it seem that there was anything romantic going on between you – or maybe you were just totally oblivious.

At the moment, Dae-ho was hanging out at your apartment, like he did almost every day. You lived only across the street from each other, so it took only couple of minutes to walk to your place. Often he'd rather come visit you or you him instead of texting or talking on the phone when you could easily come inside.

For Dae-ho, your friendship had been just platonic as well, nothing romantic, even though you would hug a lot and cuddle during movies at home. He saw you as his best friend, though during your entire friendship, he hadn't been in a relationship with any other girl. Neither had you with any other guy.

For your other friends? Everyone knew that the two of you were just in denial of your real feelings towards each other.

You were in the kitchen, cutting cucumber into pieces on a chopping board for a salad you were preparing to eat with your lunch soon.

"Y/N?" Dae-ho said by the door, making you lay the knife down on the counter and turn around.

"Hm?"

Dae-ho was unsure if he should suggest it or not, not knowing what you would think about it. He knew you were really close, but where would you draw the line?

"You heard what day it is today?" Dae-ho asked.

"Um, Friday?"

"It's the Shower with a Friend Day," he informed you. "It's pretty self-explanatory."

"Oh, really? That's a thing?" You raised your eyebrows. "Huh, I wasn't aware of that."

"Any plans tonight?"

"Well, i did plan to have a movie marathon in the evening. Where you are more than welcome as well, obviously," you told him and then smirked, putting your hand on your hip. "What, you want to shower together?"

"Well, it is an official day for that," he shrugged, trying to act all nonchalant and like he didn't really care. He wanted to make it seem like it was your idea.

"Hmm," you hummed, amused. "Well, i'm going for a run so i do need to shower tonight," you thought outloud. "And you're joining the movie marathon with me, hm? It'd be upsetting to eat all the food alone."

☆☆☆

You and Dae-ho had seen each other without clothes before. Many times when you were wearing only your bra and underwear and once or twice without any piece of clothing. You weren't worried about Dae-ho seeing your body, you weren't self-conscious and he had already seen you, though it was a couple of years ago. It wasn't a big deal - right?

After your run, you stopped by a store before going back home. You had to buy more shampoo, you had squeezed the last bit of the previous bottle. While standing by the shelves full of different brands and scents of shampoo and conditioner, for a few seconds your mind somehow wandered to one question.

What scent would Dae-ho like?

You didn't know why the question popped in your mind. Surely he didn't care what kind of shampoo you used. Your shower wasn't very large, but two people were able to use it, though there wouldn't be much space left. He would be close enough to be able to smell your hair when you were washing it. You knew he disliked coconut, atleast, but so did you.

Ugh, he wouldn't care, so it was whatever. You still chose one you hadn't used before, just to try it out.

☆☆☆

When you stepped into the shower behind the plastic curtain, joining Dae-ho already standing there, Dae-ho's gaze wandered on your bare body, but he quickly looked away when you stood in front of him and looked towards him.

You were beautiful, all of you, there was no denying in that. Seeing you without clothes on did fluster him a little but this wasn't the first time. He could see the small tattoo of a frog on your left hip, which was covered by your jeans or sweater most of the time, unless you were wearing a crop top during summer.

You turned the water on, letting it hit your head and back, leaving Dae-ho almost dry.

"Oh, right. I suppose we'll have to take turns," he said, but you grabbed his elbow and pulled him closer to you so that you were both able to get wet.

"Nah, we'll both fit," you chuckled. There was only an inch between you, but Dae-ho soon moved a step away after a moment when he had become wet enough to start washing himself.

You turned the water off as you started putting the shampoo on your hair. It was the new one you had bought from the store.

He took a small step closer to you again and for a second you were confused why he was leaning towards you, but he only grabbed his bottle of shampoo behind you over your shoulder.

"Have you changed your shampoo?" Dae-ho asked when you had rubbed enough of it all around your hair, sniffing his nose above you.

"How did you know?" you asked, furrowing your eyebrows. You doubted he had put attention on your hair product collection.

"It smells different than usually," he stated.

"You've smelled my hair?"

"I mean, not on purpose obviously, that'd be weird. But i do smell it every time we hug," he explained. You were shorter than him, the top of your head reaching just below his nose.

"Oh, right," you chuckled.

"I like it though," he blurted out.

"Well, i'm glad you do," you smiled, not knowing what else to respond to that.

You washed your hair and were about to start adding the conditioner, taking the pink bottle in your hand.

But then, the bottle slipped off from your hand when you were trying to squeeze a little bit of the conditioner out. It landed on the tiles right by your feet. You both looked at it and knew that there was very little room to kneel down on the floor without hitting the other person.

You and Dae-ho's gazed met.

"So, i suppose i'll have to go down to get it," you mumbled.

"I guess," he said, his cheeks turning slightly pink. "I can get it too."

"No, i'll get it," you shook your head. "Um, could you turn around for a second?"

He did as told and you kneeled down to grab the bottle, then getting back up, allowing Dae-ho to turn around again. However, you hadn't realised that as the bottle fell on the floor, it had stayed open and a little of the conditioner was spilled on the floor, making the tiles slippery.

Accidentally, you stepped right on the exact spot and slipped backwards. Dae-ho managed to grab you before you'd either hit your head on the wall or fall completely on the floor on your butt.

His hand was around your waist, your back against his chest. Sure, you had hugged him countless of times, almost daily, but you had always had your clothes on. Sure, you had seen him naked before, but you had never touched his bare skin before, besides his arms.

You were frozen on your spot, as were Dae-ho as well. You were suddenly extremely aware of every inch of his skin, his hand resting right under your breasts.

"Um," you mumbled and stood back up again, Dae-ho helping you. "Thanks."

"No problem," he stuttered. As you looked at his face, his cheeks had turned burning red.

You continued rubbing conditioner into your hair in silence, until moved to grab the body gel.

"Yeah, sure," he said and took the bottle in his hands.

"Could you rub this on my back?" you suggested. "I can't really reach all of it with my hands. You know, having this little space left to really move my arms around now."

You turned your back towards him and moved your hair over your shoulder out of the way. Dae-ho laid his hand on your left shoulder, taking it slowly across your neck to your right shoulder. His movements were so slow his touch gave you goosebumps on every spot he touched, tingles radiating all around your back.

He slowly lowered his hand towards your lower back, making sure not to miss a single area. The lower his hands wandered, the faster your heart started to race. His left hand was on your hip, fingers touching the frog tattoo, when he had reached your lower back and then he pulled his right hand away. You felt disappointment rise in your chest, wanting to have him touch you again. His other hand still rested on your hip though.

"All done," he said quietly and feeling his hot breath against your shoulder made you more aware how close he really was to you at the moment.

You stretched your neck to look at him over your shoulder, not turning your body towards him. Both of you had frozen still on your own spots, your bodies automatically pulling each other closer like magnets.

Dae-ho's heart was beating so fast it was about to burst out of his chest. He was barely able to breathe and had to concentrate on his breathing more than usual to stay calm. Being this close to you, having no distance between your bodies anymore, was making him crazy - absolutely insane.

Dae-ho wanted to know what you were thinking. He also wondered what would happen when you'd step out of the shower. Right now you were in your own intimate world which felt like being separated from the reality. It was only a shower, but having you this close to him and having this feeling inside his chest and stomach made it feel much more than just a shower – it felt almost magical.

"Could you wash my back too?" he asked quietly, breaking the thick silence lingering between you.

Your eyes were locked with each other, neither of you saying a single word in a while, only drowning into each other's eyes.

"Yeah, of course."

He turned around like you had previously, and you were now facing his back, which was a lot larger than yours. You took his body wash and started rubbing it across his shoulders and back. When you first laid your hand on his shoulder, he flinched a little.

"All done," you whispered, your hand resting on his shoulder, unable to let go. It was like your hand was suddenly glued on his skin.

Dae-ho eventually turned around to face you again, but you still kept your hand on his shoulder.

Eventually you managed to get out of your trance and turned the water back on, letting it pour on your body.

"Come on," you said and motioned him to come closer. "Hop in."

He hesitated for a moment until came to stand under the water, having barely an inch between your chests again like in the beginning.  He was about to lift his hands to wash his hair, but you stopped him mid-way, putting your hand on his.

"May i?" you asked, lifting your hands to hover over both of his ears, trapping his head between your palms. He only gave you a small nod, giving you the permission to start brushing your fingers through his short hair, massaging his scalp as the water poured against his head.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. You weren't sure if you had ever examined his face this closely, seeing all the smallest details clearly. You had always thought he was handsome, one of the most good-looking men you knew.

When you were finished, Dae-ho opened his eyes and looked into your eyes. Your hands had slowly fallen on his cheeks.

"Is it too weird to kiss you right now?" he asked softly, for a moment not realising he had actually said those words outloud.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and took a shaky breath in, until you gathered all your courage and pulled his face closer. You pressed your lips softly on his, the water still hitting your heads.

He kissed you back immediately, resting his hands on your lower back. As your kiss deepened, and his tongue found its way inside your mouth, you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Oh, wow," you breathed out when the kiss ended and bit your lip.

"Yeah," was the only thing he managed to mumble.

"Why do i think we should have done that sooner?"

"Because we should have," Dae-ho chuckled. "Why don't we get your hair washed and we can continue that somewhere... dryer?"

You chuckled and nodded. "Good idea."

He started brushing his fingers through your hair, rubbing your scalp which made you feel so good. You looked into his eyes the entire time, loving to see him look so concentrated.

Dae-ho turned off the water, and both of you stepped out of the shower.

Eventually, you had to pull away to breathe.

When you had dryed yourselves and dressed up, before Dae-ho was able to say anything, you crashed your lips on his again. Your hair was dripping water on the floor, creating a small puddle by your feet, but at the moment you didn't care. Your hands explored each other's bodies, not able to get enough of the other.

"Could i, maybe, i don't know - take you on a date this weekend?" Dae-ho asked, still nervous even though you had kissed him twice already. "A real date. Not a platonic one, you know. More than just as friends."

A smile spread on your face. "I'd like that."

He smiled widely as well.

"I hope it's somewhere dry though this time," you suggested.

"So, you're not up to go swimming?" he asked jokingly, raising his eyebrows.

"Well, i'd go anywhere with you, but for our first date i'd like to dress up a little," you said. "You know, atleast put a shirt on."

"I'll plan something," he smiled.

☆☆☆

[lostintheuniverseslies]

I've been reading a lot of whump!Buck fics and it's been raining here so this came to mind. Hope you enjoy!

Buck is lying on the ground in the rain, staring up at a sky that’s somehow too bright for such a gloomy day. His mind scrambles to catch up. Why is he on the ground? Why does his body feel like it doesn’t belong to him? His breath rattles in his chest, uneven and wet, and though he knows something bad happened, he can’t quite piece it together. 

Then, pain crashes into him like fire. It floods every inch of his body, crushing, suffocating. His chest screams with every shallow breath, his ribs aching as if they’re caving in. 

Somewhere close, someone is talking—frantic, desperate—but not to him. No, they’re talking to someone else. A dispatcher, probably. 9-1-1. 

He’s been here before. Close to death too many times to count. But this time? This time feels different. Final. 

He’s accomplished almost everything he wanted to in life. His sister is happy, married to an amazing man, and building the family she always dreamed of. And Buck? He found the love of his life. He just wishes he could have spent forever with them. 

But that’s life, he supposes. 

He has no regrets.

That thought should scare him. It doesn’t. 

A strange, eerie peace settles over him, maybe because the pain is fading. Or maybe because everything—the rain, the voices, the world—feels like it’s happening miles away.

His breaths come slower, weaker. Keeping his eyes open is a battle he’s losing. And deep down, he knows. This is it. He’s lived a good life. He can let go, knowing the people he loves will be okay. They’ll grieve, they’ll hurt, but they’ll get through it. 

All except maybe one.

Even though they broke up, Buck knows the news of his death will tear Tommy apart. And the thought of him grieving alone is the one thing that makes this unbearable. 

With the last dredges of his strength, he fumbles for his phone. His fingers feel sluggish, barely responsive, but muscle memory guides him. 

One number. 

The one he’s resisted calling, the one he swore he’d never dial again. 

It rings.

And rings.

And rings—until the voicemail picks up. 

“Tommy,” Buck rasps.

His voice is hoarse, strained, barely more than a whisper. The wheeze in his breath is unmistakable. Tommy will hear it. He’ll know. 

“Don’t shut them out again, okay?”

Buck swallows against the burn in his throat. His chest is so tight. He blinks, and suddenly there are tears in his eyes. Not for himself. For Tommy. For the image of him pushing everyone away, hurting alone. 

“You’re allowed to let them be there for you. Please–Please let them be there for you.” 

The wheezing worsens. Buck isn’t sure how much longer he has. He forces out the words that matter most. 

“I love you.” A shaky breath. “I hope you know that. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

His lips twitch, not quite a smile, as his mind supplies an image of Tommy: kind, gentle, sharp-tongued, funny, sassy. So damn easy to love. 

“You deserve to be loved.” His voice cracks. “I really hope you find the person you’re meant to spend your life with. No matter what you think, I’m grateful. So grateful. That you were my first, and my last.”

He wants to say more. One more ‘I love you.’ One more goodbye. 

But his fingers are numb. His grip slackens. He’s pretty sure the phone slips from his hand, but he doesn’t hear it hit the ground.

He doesn’t fight it anymore.

He said everything he needed to say.

So Buck, feeling the most peace he’s ever known, closes his eyes—hoping Tommy and his family will be okay. 

he's not dead I PROMISE. I'm considering writing a Tommy POV of when he checks his voicemail 🤷‍♀️

[navybrat817]

hi navy!!! I might be too late, but I was hoping to send in a request for ficlet Friday with Bucky Barnes and the prompt "shoulders hunched over a chopping board, carefully dissecting fruit to deliver it to you in a bowl" and maybe avenger!bucky x avenger!reader if possible??

Thank you so much!!! <333

Hi, nonnie! I hope you like where I took this.

Better Tomorrow

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Female Reader

Summary: You get a small injury on a mission and it's part of the job, but Bucky still hates it.

Word Count: Over 950

Warnings: Established relationship, small injury, touch of angst, comfort, feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You were careful to keep your breathing even when you got up from the couch. If Bucky heard you hiss or groan in pain, he’d rush to your side and demand to know why you got up. He’d also put you right back where you were sitting and remind you not to move. It was sweet when you thought about it and you adored that he wanted to coddle you for a bit, but there was no need.

A bullet grazed your arm on a mission earlier, a superficial wound. It wasn’t the first time that a mission ended with an injury nor was it a big deal. Deep down you felt that it didn’t make a difference to Bucky how artificial the wound was because you still got hurt. For a second you thought he’d kill the man who shot you, but he held back. And by holding back that bad guy would be spending some time in the hospital before he went to jail.

Tiptoeing toward the kitchen in the hopes that your boyfriend’s heightened hearing wouldn’t detect you, you froze when you spotted him behind the island. His hair down, wearing a white tank top, his shoulders hunched over as he carefully cut up pieces of fruit. The sight put a smile on your face and made your heart turn over.

Bucky was an Avenger. Both of you were. But this? Seeing your man in a domestic environment? It reminded you just how human you both were, that you could be vulnerable beneath the strength.

“You’re not resting,” he said, his eyes flickering to yours. He either heard you or he was that attuned to you. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve been resting and I’m fine,” you smiled. He had already given you something for the pain, your favorite blanket and a book, and you could only sit for so long. “I wanted to check on you.”

“I’m fine,” he said, trying to continue the task with a look of indifference, but you knew better. He looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and that wasn’t fair.

“You’re not, Bucky,” you gently spoke, taking a step forward.

“No, I’m not. Because you got hurt and I couldn’t stop it,” he confessed, letting out a breath and confirming what you thought. It was nothing more than a whisper, but it felt like he screamed it from the depths of his soul.

Your heart broke for him. He took the blame into himself when it wasn’t his fault, punished himself for crimes he didn’t commit. You wouldn’t let him do that tonight. Not when he was a hero and your loving partner.

“We’re Avengers, Bucky. We help people. We may get hurt along the way and it’s a risk we take, but it isn’t your fault if one of us does,” you told him, seeing a swirl of emotions in his blue eyes. “The guy who chose to shoot at me is the one to blame, not you.”

“So why do I feel so terrible?” he whispered.

“Because you love me and you don’t want me in pain. Maybe you even thought for a moment that you’d lose me,” you answered, your heart contracting when he flinched. You understood that fear all too well when it came to him. “But I’m here and I’m okay.”

Bucky set the knife down and flexed his fingers, his eyes shutting for only a moment before he rounded the island to get to you. You moved forward on instinct and met him halfway so he could pull you into his arms. You fisted a hand in his tank top and wanted to burrow your face in his broad chest, your heart beating faster as you breathed each other in. He was safe, and so were you.

“I can’t lose you, baby. I can’t,” he said, his voice tight, careful not to squeeze your arm when he tightened his hold. He would never ask you to stop being an Avenger since he was out there doing the same thing, but injuries reminded him of the tough parts about being a hero.

“You won’t,” you said. You were both strong, capable. If you left the world tomorrow, you’d still be with him because your heart was his. You wouldn’t lose him either.

“I love you so much,” he whispered, kissing your forehead, your eyelids, your nose, and finally your lips. It’s so soft yet so passionate that you couldn’t stop the tears from burning behind your eyelids.

“I love you, too,” you whispered back, blinking the mist away. “Now will you come and rest with me? Maybe I’ll let you feed me that bowl of fruit.”

“You’d let me do that?” he smiled a little.

“I would,” you smiled back, gasping when he lifted you off your feet and was once again careful not to do anything to your arm. “Show off,” you teased, hanging on with your good arm.

“Just a little,” he said. Picking you up was no sweat to a super soldier. “Thank you,” he added in a whisper. Taking care of you was going to comfort him as much as it comforted you.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you whispered back.

You had a feeling that Bucky wouldn’t sleep well tonight. He’d be too busy watching over you and making sure you were okay. If he did sleep there was a chance he’d have nightmares over the gunshot or a past injury. But in the morning he’d feel better knowing that you were really home with him, that you were okay, and that he didn’t lose you.

And if he really wanted to coddle and dote on you a bit longer, you wouldn’t stop him.

Love and thanks for participating! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[sweetm4ri]

⭑𓂃 𝐆𝗂𝗋ᥣ 𝐒𝗍υ𝖿𝖿 ꩜ .ᐟ

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WARNINGS :: Akutagawa Ryūnosuke / Dazai Osamu / Fyodor Dostoevsky / Ranpo Edogawa / Chūya Nakahara x F!Reader (separately); Already established relationships; Angst (on the Fyodor part); Anxious reader (on the Chūya part); Slightly mentions of dark themes, not much, but can trigger some people that are scared to walk alone at night (on the Ranpo part)

SINOPSE :: Problems that you have to deal with being a girl on different situations with male bsd characters.

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Note :: To all the girls.

⭑𓂃 Akutagawa Ryūnosuke

It was a hot day, not a cozy, warm day or a little bit cold one. It was a hot day. An extremely hot one. It was like the devil had decided to pass his home to here.

You, noticing the good and normal temperature in the morning, decided to only wear a sweater, with nothing underneath, only your intimate clothes.

It would be fine. But in this moment, it was like you were in a toaster, almost creaming or falling apart.

You shacked your hands in front of your neck, going back and forth with the cloth piece, trying to make a ventilation or something like that. Your dear one, only looking at you with those dark eyes that you could easily read through.

"What? Don't judge." You say, not even bodering with explaining everything.

"Why are you doing that? Just take the sweater off." He pointed, making everything sound too simple, very, even extremely simple.

"I can not." You explain, continuing to try to find a bit of air underneath.

"Why, though? You just need to take it off, simple." He continued, gesturing the simplicity of fleaping the cloth off you.

"I do not have anything underneath, okay?" You say in a wishper, explaining how difficult the whole situation was.

With everything set. Your boyfriend only looked at you in disbelief, shaking his head negatively. Oh well, maybe one day he would understand it.

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⭑𓂃 Dazai Osamu

"Why do you have to take so much time?" Your boyfriend whines from the other side of the door of the bathroom, impatient by the time that you have to take to clean yourself.

Even if Dazai was a genius, he did not seem to understand the complexity of choosing the right product for you and taking a good time to each of them.

"Dazai, it is not my fault. I have to be careful and pay attention to each product!" You explain, carefully passing your mascara by your dear hair.

"I would prefer if you paid attention to me instead!" He hissed, sitting on the cold floor, his back to the door as he looked through your shared bedroom.

"Paying attention to you will not make my hair or skin perfect." You proclaimed in a firm tone, walking to the door with a towel in your body, finally opening it.

His eyes shone, thinking that you were finally over. Soon frowing seeing your still weat hair with product.

"You can watch if you want. Maybe you can learn a bit." You said with a kind smile, giving up on making your boyfriend wait for you.

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⭑𓂃 Fyodor Dostoevsky

Today was a very significant day since you were going to an important dinner with Fyodor, your boyfriend. He is a very respected person, which is natural, considering the work he puts so others have full trust in him. You were no diferente however, you trusted him more than anything, and he trusted you too, or so you hoped so.

The night started really well. You had a nice outfit on, a gorgeous makeup, and your dear one was incapable, too. The gathering took place in a very expensive and renowned restaurant, you found all sorts of people there, from rich normal ones to literal presidents. And, of course, being already familiar with how highly and exceptionally Fyodor talks, you put up your best face, prepared to show these people your best, and how you deserved to be there.

Even so, your lover had other plans. Every time you tried to even say something, he would just slide into the conversation, making people hear him instead. Which was utterly weird and ridiculous. Would he not believe in your capacity to handle things?

You pushed him delicately aside from everyone, whispering in a low voice so only he could hear you, an then you asked it.

"What is the problem, Fyodor? Why are you not letting me talk with them?" Your lips moved calmly just like you were telling a secret.

"My dear, you know I fully trust you, but you need to understand. These are not just normal people. They are truly important and significant. If you said something you should not, how would I be?" He responded to you, with his usual attractive and magnetic smile, his voice tone excelling confidence in his words.

"You need to understand." That words got stuck in you like nothing else, making you unable to speak how frustrating his actions were.

"I am quite sure you will understand me. Let me handle things while you speak to the other woman's, I am sure you will have your fun too." He completed his other statement with some more couple of words, those who should not be said.

Understand. Should you really be the one to comprehend it?

"I do not have the words to say how completely stupid you sound right now. Maybe you should learn a bit about how to understand things." You said, trying to keep your tone still calm and relaxed, but still raising it a bit.

"If you do not mind, wich I am sure you do not, I am leaving. There is nothing here for me anyway. I hope you do think a little about what you made and told me. I am not a doll for you to simply control like that, and most of all, I am not like the people you deal with. You should respect me more, Fyodor."

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⭑𓂃 Ranpo Edogawa

You should know better than deciding to go out at night with a big baby, but in any way, you did it. And now you were going until the end of all this.

The Agency had declared that because of the victory against the other - very powerful - organization, all of you would go out to a bar and bath yourselfs in alcohol, as a well deserved reward.

When you arrived with your boyfriend, almost everyone was already there, although there were still people putting some food on the tables. And as expected, Ranpo went almost running for the food, leaving you behind.

You, in a different way, went to say hello to everyone. You could try to stop Ranpo, but you know better than that. Besides, it was a celebration between people from the Agency, so nobody really cared about that.

As timed passed, more people had arrived, and you, of course, greeted all of them, kindly smilling to your friends. There was drinks, lot alcohol, food and jokes.

By the end of the night, it was really dark, no clouds in the sky, only that obscure blue, and some little to no stars. And some people started to leave. You, being a woman who would have to walk your way home, knew better than let everything get even more late.

You made your way to your boyfriend, who was currently talking with your dear friend Yosano. You got close to him and said that you two should go because it was getting already very late.

He simply looked at you in confusion, stopping the conversation and focusing on only you.

"Why now? It is not that late." He says, still confused, eating some candies calmly.

"It is late! And I have to walk back home!" You exclaimed, lightly irritated whit him. You knew he had all that smartness "only" with the glasses, but you did expect for him to get what you meant.

"And? Walk then." He stated, like it was all very simple and easy. Easy for him, a man.

"Are you good, Ranpo? You need to walk her home. It is dark outside, and a woman walking alone would be a very easy prey." Yosano explained, giving herself the free pass to interrup the conversation between you two and also saving you from a bug talk.

"Oh, sorry." Ranpo said, finally getting your point. Maybe his mind didn't work late at night, but anyway, you two had to go.

The walk was actually really calm, for your luck, since Ranpo isn't the tipe to fight. Although you had come with a hole explanation to him about how dangerous it really is for you to walk alone outside, especially at night. Your next lesson would be about how to use a train. He seems like he needs that.

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⭑𓂃 Chūya Nakahara

Chūya awaited patiently against his motorcycle, a gasp of smoke leaving his lips as he put the cigarette back in his lips. In time to time, he looked at the clock in his wrist, checking the hours again and again, wondering how much longer you would take.

On the other side, you were impatient, deciding mentally if really was a good idea going to that date. I mean, you would love to, it's your boyfriend after all. But the clothes were not helping. How could you choose the perfect one? It was like all the good dresses had gone missing all of a sudden.

You cursed mentally all the people that had stepped in this world, trying a bunch of clothes that you were not even aware of that existed. Anything could not do. It had to be perfect. The perfect cloth for your perfect date with your perfect boyfriend.

Your back was against the bed blankets, looking up at the ceiling, again questioning yourself about everything. Why did it have to be so difficult? Now, you were just cursing yourself. Everything is wrong in this moment. Everyone is nothing but a big mistake.

As if some god from afar had listened to your complaints, you suddenly remembered a dress that Chūya had given you not so long ago. Even if it was not your birthday already, he enjoyed giving you a bunch of stuff. And that included the beautiful and magnificent dress that was seated gracefully in your wardrobe.

Even if it was not the "perfect" dress for your perfect date, it was special. And you knew how much your dear one appreciates that kind of thing. Nothing really needs to be perfect sometimes. Maybe you were just overthinking too much. Or maybe you were not. You can not just go out with anything that you see in front of you. It needs to be good, who imagines the people that you will see in the street.

While everything played in your mind like a movie scene, you had finally finished preparing yourself, your clothes hugging your body perfectly, like it was made just for you. Which you did not doubt, giving how your boyfriend was. Always wanting to make you happy and loved for being exactly who you are.

You hurry up to get to the door of your home, batting an eye to Chuuya awaiting patiently for you with his motorcycle.

"Hi my love, sorry for the delay." You excuse yourself to him, hugging him tightly and kissing his cheek.

"It is okay. You are stunning, really. Like a goddess of beauty." He says in a really sweet tone, which was always reserved only for you. You only laughed at his compliment, brushing it off so he wouldn't notice the light red color on your cheeks.

"You think? I was worried that it was not perfect. You know, the clothes and all. I really wanted to be perfect for you... and our date, of course!" You explain slightly embarrassed, trying not to let yourself even more shy with all this.

"You are impeccable in any way, really." He says, kissing your cheek and offering you one of the helmets.

F. Note :: I hope you liked your reading dear, please, do not forget to take care of yourself.

Lots of love,

Mari. ♡

Tags.ᐟ ::

[kuinaminku]

i try to give little bits and pieces of the puzzle for people to put together what glindas life is like post canon in Just a Clock Tick, but im bored so here’s some clarity on some of it. plus these are just my general post canon glindy poo headcanons sooo

- she’s throne minister/functionally the figure head of Oz, but she established a council and willingly relinquished power so all the different states of Oz could govern with her.

boq being the munchkinland representative, Brrr for the animals, and i’d like to think maybe Sarima for the vinkus! (in this canon i’d imagine maybe she’s his childhood friend or something)

- also clarity’s sake, i take bits of book canon arbitrarily to make my own canon. whatever book characters or bits of worldbuilding you may see are just there to give my world building a bit more sauce, they don’t strictly adhere to the book’s canon

- glinda doesn’t really have many people she talks to outside of work. boq will sometimes converse with her outside of meetings and stuff, but she’s not very open with him and won’t go out of her way to spend time with him. (or really anyone with few exceptions) it’s usually him that has to drag her out for stuff like that

- her parents are still alive, but again, she doesn’t speak much to them. she’s pretty much emotionally isolated herself completely so she doesn’t really spend much personal time with anyone like that. she’ll still go see them as a formality but they’re also so brainwashed by the whole anti wicked witch campaign that she feels so disconnected from them and everyone else who thinks the same way

- the exception to this is doctor dillamond. he still struggles with speech but she does her best to meet with him regularly for tea and stuff partly out of guilt but partly because he’s one of the few tethers she still has to Elphie and not the Wicked Witch of the West

- she has not fully unpacked her feelings about everything that’s happened. she’s accepted that she loved elphaba as more than a friend, and never truly felt that love with fiyero, but it doesn’t matter to her anyways because both of them are gone and she blames herself. she doesn’t allow herself to think about her feelings at all. she’ll either drown herself in work, and when she’s not working, drink till she can’t think about them

- segueing from that, i think she’s a functional alcoholic. in my mind glinda has adhd and hpd which already make her pretty susceptible to substance issues but especially now it’s her only coping mechanism. and it’s not a good one

- she finds little joy in her old hobbies. dressing up is a chore now for work. shopping only reminds her of elphie, and it’s not like she can buy or wear the stuff she really wants to anyways. architecture and art feel frivolous, and she finds out that sorcery was never really one of her true loves anyways

- despite that, since it was elphaba’s wish, she’s spent countless hours studying and poring over the grimmerie. elphaba actually left some notes behind in the book, and hard as they are to decipher, they’ve helped her parse out some spells she’s committed to memory

thats all i can think of off the top of my head for right now, but if anyone has any questions about my glinda hcs or anything really send them my way!!! getting asks is super fun

[ephemeralinstance]

Lavellan in Veilguard

The scenes with the Solas-romancing Lavellan in Veilguard are, for me, one of the writing highlights of the game. Of course there are limitations with her being an NPC, but I think that subject to the constraints of the structure of the game, the writer did a really great job of a very difficult piece of writing - creating a depiction of the character that fits with thousands of different versions of Lavellan.

First of all, Lavellan's dialogue is elegant and lyrical, matching the cadence in which Solas speaks and thus showing how in-tune they are even after all these years. One thing I loved about Inquisition was that the language was often really beautiful, so I enjoyed seeing that kind of poetic language return here, and I think the writer understood and captured the heart of what a lot of people loved about the Solas romance - the poetry and beauty of it.

In addition, we get a range of different emotions. Lavellan expresses sadness ('He meant that much'), passion ('You've felt the power of that mind'), anger ('He left me to clean up his mess'), self-doubt ('Am I the prideful one?'). Whatever reaction you personally envision your character as having, you can find it represented in what she says here. I know some people wished Lavellan could have more of an angry confrontation with Solas, but that probably wouldn't have been possible without just allowing us to directly control Lavellan; I think the writer achieved a good compromise by showing us her anger and hurt in this conversation. 

At the same time, she's shown to be mature, self-aware, and reflective. We see her questioning herself, asking 'Am I the prideful one, imagining his broken heart so I'd never have to face my folly?' Lavellan isn't deluded; she's not romanticizing what happened. If she chooses to go with him, it's clear that she isn't naive or being manipulated. She's making this choice in a fully aware, thoughtful manner. And although Lavellan loves Solas deeply, he isn't her first priority. It's important that when Rook asks her if she'd be willing to leave with Solas, she states, 'No. We have to save the world first.' We're shown very clearly that she has a life outside of Solas, and she prioritizes her duty to the people of Thedas: only once her task is done is she able to put herself first, and finally choose her own desires over her duty for once. It's also impressive how clearly she understands Solas, as evident in her speculation that he's left clues because part of him wants to be stopped. I particularly liked the fact that she's shown to have a deeper understanding of him than Rook, as seen in their exchange about 'lies of the heart.' Rook just sees one superficial version of Solas as 'god of lies,' whereas Lavellan understands that although Solas did lie to her, at a deeper level he isn't good at concealing what he really feels. Lavellan absolutely knows and understand Solas' flaws and the 'bad' side of him that Rook has seen, but she also knows a different side of him that no one else has seen. If Lavellan chooses to go with him, it's because she understands him completely: she sees all the good and all the bad in him, and she chooses him anyway.

Finally, sometimes I see people critiquing Lavellan for being passive or not having much going on apart from her connection with Solas. Now first off, this clearly isn't true, since she spends the whole game mustering the armies of the south and sending detailed missives about her military operations - no one in Thedas has more going on than this woman! 

But also, it's important to keep in mind that Lavellan isn't supposed to be a fully-fleshed out character: she's specifically left vague enough so that you can fill in the details with your own Lavellan. For example, we're not told much about what she's been up to in the last ten years, but of course that's not because she's done nothing but pine for Solas: it's simply left unspecified so it can be compatible with different headcanons. Lavellan is specifically written to allow us to fill in the details, and the measure of success is not whether she comes off as a fully-developed character to people who don't have their own Solas-romancing Lavellan (honestly, those people shouldn't even be commenting, this writing isn't for them); the measure of success is whether she works as a stand-in for all of our individual versions of Lavellan. And although of course it's never going to be possible to please everyone, I think the writer did a great job within the limitations of what was possible in the plot.

[fizzigigsimmer]

It's never too late to tell an author you like their work. I'm so serious.

As a writer, I don't know how to properly convey to people how much it means to me to witness others engaging with my work. Seeing their responses. Hearing their thoughts and interpretations and perspectives of the character.

Yes. We all write for ourselves in some capacity. But we also write for the reader. For the connective experience of experiencing the work together.

If you've ever wondered whether leaving comments or reaching out to the author of an abandoned work makes any difference, I want to share this personal story.

In 2015 I began writing a Marvel Stony fic, with a partner that was a historical au based on the Sound of Music. This monster was an epic wartime romance that put Tony and Steve in the center of the racial conflict in Pre-World War II Austria. And when I say it was epic I mean it was epic. The plot spanned across years, and wove in characters across our favorite fandoms because it just required that many characters lol.

Anyone who knows me or my writing knows by now how much I love a good historical piece, especially one that attempts to strike at the heart of what makes us human. And in 2015 when we first started, it felt to us like a worthwhile endeavor to remind people of the cost when we lose sight of each other's humanity. like I said, ambitious, kinda silly, and yet to date, one of the most rewarding pieces of fiction I have ever written.

It was hard to write, but so so LOVED. The amount of research alone we put into that story could probably fill a book lol.

But life got busy, the writing partnership disolved, and though it broke my heart not to finish after all that effort, the truth of the matter was the joy in it for me was gone. I held out hope that one day I would get the groove back, but as these things go time just kept passing by and I don't see myself returning to it anytime soon.

But today I received this really beautiful comment on A03 that reminded me of this story and how much I loved it. It included a humble ask.

After wiping my tears lol I went searching back through my files to find the outline document for this fic, because as I said we did an extensive amount of research and story plotting.

I've just posted it, in addition to a hanging piece of an unpublished chapter that we never made it to. Thank you Wolfstar135!

[deadhands69]

Cute When You Stutter

loser!Shigaraki x gn/afab Reader

prev ◁ part 5 (final)

[series masterlist]

The league headquarters are quiet tonight, almost too quiet. Everyone has plans for Valentine’s day. Toga is out with her girlfriend. Dabi is doing whatever Dabi usually does at night. Even Spinner managed to score a date with his cute discord friend. 

Well, almost everyone has Valentine’s plans. Not you. Posting so many pictures with your boss, pretending to date him, then burning every bridge you know absolutely cemented your lack of a date or even friend hangout this year. 

Even Shigaraki has been pretty quiet tonight, making almost no noise in his room and you’re not entirely sure if you want to know what he’s doing in there. You’re almost certain he doesn’t have a date either though because you’ve never seen him voluntarily talk to anyone outside of the league. You also left a massive hickey on his neck two days ago which may be a slight deterrent for some people (Toga later asked you if you did this on purpose to keep Tomura to yourself, but admittedly you were just drunk and weren’t thinking that far ahead.)

Maybe it’s boredom or loneliness from being in your room alone all day, but you decide to see what he’s up to. Knocking a few more times than you normally would, you yell out “hey, it’s me,” before making your way into his room.

“Hey,” you walk in to find him on the floor surrounded in legos, sorted by color. “Want some help?”

He debates for a moment before nodding and handing you one of the instruction sheets. You sit quietly in the space next to him, glad for the company. 

“Thanks for hanging out tonight,” you say, pulling a few pieces from the red pile.

“Mmmhm.”

He turns to you with one side of his mouth quirked up in a smile. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him close.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Hugging you. Is that okay?” You can’t imagine why it wouldn’t be, considering that he let you sit on his face yesterday. 

“Yeah, it’s just different,” he mumbles into your shoulder, “usually you only get close when you want something or you’re messing with me.”

“I’m not messing with you. At least, not always.” 

He pulls back, looking at you incredulously. “Why else would you do stuff like this? I’m not stupid, I know you just like to fuck with me.” 

“Of course I do, you’re cute when you’re flustered. It’s not like I don’t get anything out of it too though.”

Tomura doesn’t respond, busying himself with a few green blocks as the tips of his ears turn pink. 

A few minutes later, your creation begins to take shape.

“Flowers?” you ask, amused. “You don’t really strike me as the type to decorate with lego flowers.”

“They’re not for me,” he mutters in response.

“Oh yeah? Then who are they for?” You realize the answer immediately after the words leave your mouth. You’re the only person he has ever shown interest in, who else would they be for? He bites his lip, blushing profusely as he stares at you. 

“You were making me flowers, even if you thought I only spent time with you as a joke?” 

“Kind of,” he searches for a specific yellow piece before continuing, “I never actually thought I had a chance with you. But seeing everything this week, I figured you probably don’t have anyone else to buy you flowers. And you’re really cool so someone should. Why not me?”

He looks hurt for a moment before focusing hard on getting a piece to fit properly. 

You think back, trying to remember the last time anyone ever bothered to be this nice to you. Yet here he is doing so without any expectations. Spending hours putting together an expensive lego bouquet when he could easily have just bought you cheap gas station flowers or done nothing at all.

“They’re beautiful,” you whisper, “thanks.”

He smiles at you, subtly scratching his neck. “And you don’t owe me anything for them. Not that I mind everything you’ve been doing, but you don’t have to.”

“No?” you ask, moving a strand of pale blue hair out of his face, “but what if I want to?”

Bringing your lips to his feels natural at this point. You’ve done it so many times now that it’s all you want to do, but it still feels so new to you. He kisses you back with confidence you've only seen him show in battle. You climb onto his lap, legs straddling each side of him.

Your hand slides up his chest, wrapping lightly around his throat. As your thumb brushes over the new scratches, he leans into the touch. Tentatively, you give a little squeeze. He moans. You make a mental note to come back to that sometime. For now, you selfishly want him to last long enough to get yourself off too. 

As the two of you begin to make out more passionately, you drag yourself over his thigh. You're careful not to press too far forward into the tent forming in his pants; remembering how fast he came yesterday. He gets the idea quickly, grabbing your hips with two fingers and a thumb to press you harder into him. Without much contact, he’s already breathing heavily along with you.

You scoot back to pull your shirt off. Slowing down the motion, you watch as his jaw drops at the sight. He fumbles removing his own shirt, decaying it in the process. Like you suspected, he's hot. His baggy clothes covering how toned he is.

“F-fuck,” Tomura mumbles as you slide your shorts off. 

Without wasting time, you find your way back onto his lap. He looks up at you through messy hair, mouth agape and eyelids heavy. You take a second to run your hands over his abs and chest, memorizing the feel of every scratch and scar along the way. When you reach the hem of his sweatpants, you pull them halfway down his thighs along with his underwear. Running your fingers over his length, you give him a few firm strokes. He closes his eyes, hips jumping at your touch. Still grasping him in one hand, you line yourself up and little by little, you lower onto his surprisingly perfect dick. Reaching his base, you pause in amazement. Taking in how how perfectly he fits into you. If you’d known that, you would have stumbled into his room the first time you heard him moan your name while he touched himself at night.

Better late than never though.

As you should have expected, he cums almost immediately. Gripping your hips, his head falls forward as he chokes back a groan. 

“Ah shit,” he pants, ��‘m sorry.”

After some reassurance that you take it as a huge compliment, he’s hard again and ready to go.

Once more, you slowly ease your way down him as he stretches you perfectly in the right places. Taking things slow, you lean forward and kiss him. His unruly hair tickles against your nose. He adapts to your slow movements quickly. Since meeting you, he’s gotten better at this, moving his lips gently to dance against yours. 

Emotions flood in, overwhelming you. He’s the grouchiest loser and the sweetest boy you’ve ever met. The symbol of fear who completely melts at the slightest bit of affection from you. His hands destroy everything he touches but you've never felt anything but safe with him. All of the details of Tomura conflict and make sense at the same time, forming into the complex person whimpering sweetly against your lips. 

You rock your hips into his, barely having to move to hit the sweet spot that sends warm tingles through your whole body.

“[y/n], fuck you feel so good,” he whines. 

“This what you imagined every night?” you tease, bouncing faster as your excitement grows.

“B-better,” he gasps. 

He looks so pretty like this. Flushed skin and kiss-swollen lips. He stares up at you with big red eyes, trying desperately not to cum again but you know he’s close.

Fortunately, you are too.

With another snap of your hips, you find yourself crumbling around him. Your movements stutter before slamming down to engulf all of him. This time it’s your turn to grasp his shoulders to keep yourself upright. He lets go at the sight, smashing his face into yours as you both moan into a sloppy kiss. Your breathing slows, you begin to come down, but your lips continue to trace over each other.

“I’ll be right back,” you kiss him again before pressing yourself from the floor to go clean up. You revel in the way he leans wantonly into your every touch, even when he’s on the verge of sleep. 

When you get back to his room, Tomura has collapsed into his bed, passed out from the evening. You’re not far behind. Climbing in next to him, he unconsciously wraps an arm around you.

Laying in his bed surrounded in bags of trash, stray legos, and energy drink cans, you realize you'll have to teach him about cleaning tomorrow.

Through the walls, you listen as everyone slowly trickles in for the night. One by one, they all make their way back to their rooms. 

But not you. 

This time you stay.

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