#that said the only thing recently that has truly thrown me is the things he said after i got slapped . but also i’m gonna be a freak abt

[callixton]

i’m like. so actually into this guy like i Really like him but i simply can’t imagine a world in which he’s attracted to me like. whatever my friends say i think that in reality there is an equally high or higher chance that he can see i have a little thing and does not make the same jokes w me as he does his other friends bc he’s trying to be nice abt it

[imfinereallyy]

celebrate softly

it my birthday today so here’s a lil gift from me to you (yes I know that’s not how this works haha) I made a bunch of little things is celebration, i probably won’t post these till later in the day so sorry if you get a bunch at once.

Steve wanted to like his birthday.

No, really, he truly did. He knew that birthdays were the one time of year you get to be a little selfish. The people you loved gathered around you to celebrate another year of you.

It was just that Steve was also used to disappointment.

Over the years, his birthday has consisted of either his parents parading him around at business dinners or the empty silence of a house that wasn’t ever a home.

His old friends were never around. It was a holiday weekend; he didn’t expect them to stick around. Even if they had, Steve was almost sure they would have made him throw a party, where they would have pressured him to get drunk and sleep with someone, and…

Yea, Steve wasn’t interested.

The one birthday he spent with Nancy had been okay. She had to go on a family trip, her parents attempt at getting their kids to cheer up over the loss of their friends, and she was going to leave the morning of his birthday. But at midnight of July 2nd, she had snuck into his window even though she could have walked through the front door. Nancy had brought him a cupcake, a small present, and a soft smile. Steve had wanted to kiss her, but he knew it wasn’t what she wanted then. He wanted to be respectful, so he held her hand instead.

Nancy hadn’t brought a candle, said she didn’t want to risk burning the Harrington Household down. Steve had laughed, saying that would be the best birthday present ever, but she hadn’t laughed back.

The present had been a book. Which wasn’t a terrible gift per se, Steve liked reading it was just he had difficulty doing it. He couldn’t focus long enough, or he would have to reread sentences over and over again.

It just didn’t feel worth the frustration.

But it was sweet of her to get him something, so he tried reading it. It took him months to finish it, even though it was small. It was boring, and Steve had found the main character whiny, and Steve had begun to wonder if Nancy was trying to tell him something.

Then the Upside Down round two had happened, Steve got his ass kicked again and learned that Catcher in the Rye was Jonathan’s favorite book.

Steve had thrown out the book amongst his bloody bandages.

Steve was only slightly hopeful to have a good birthday last year. He had good friends (sure, one was his ex, and the other were children, but he still counted them); Dustin would be home from camp, and even though he had work, he got to spend the whole day bothering Robin, which brought him a special kind of joy.

But then they were cracking Russian code, getting tortured, and watching Max’s Stepbrother die, all within the days of his birthday.

So Steve didn’t have high expectations this year. Sure, people knew it was his birthday, it was hard to hide when he was friends with the nosiest people, but most of them were spending the entire weekend staying with Max, and he would have been too if Max hadn’t thrown a remote at him when he suggested it.

So Steve had conceded to having a quiet but lonely July 2nd.

But then at 7 am there was a knock on his front door.

A knock was putting it lightly, there was pounding echoing in the Harrington Household.

When Steve walked up to the door, he was prepared to drive away some bigots who had been trying to “repent Hawkins.” They had been going around the richer neighborhoods recently, saying we needed to clean up the streets of the sinners and the queers.

Yea, they were knocking on the wrong door.

Steve hadn’t expect Eddie Munson, notorious night owl, to be crowding his doorway at 7 am.

“Harrington, have I ever told you how absolutely ugly your house is? Like for how wealthy your parents are, they chose an absolute nightmare of a layout! It makes no sense.” Eddie budged his way past Steve with his arms full of bags.

“I’ve been telling him that for a year, Eddie, and every time he just shrugs!” Steve turned to find Robin bullying her way through him as well. She had a handful of videos in her hands.

“Sure, come in, I guess,” Steve mumbled. He shut the door and turned toward his intruders. “Not that I don’t love a surprise appearance at—“ Steve checked his watch “—7:03 am, but is there a reason why you are awake before the birds are even chirping?”

Eddie snorted and just gave him a look instead of answering. Robin shook her head, “What doofus hear is trying to convey with a noise, Jesus Eds, I know you’re not a morning, but words please, is that we are obviously here for your birthday. You, Steven Alison Harrington—“

“Not my middle name.”

“—we’re born at exactly 7:07 am on July 2nd. So we had to be here to say happy birthday officially!”

“How do you even know the time? I don’t even know that.”

“She snuck a look at your file last time Owen’s was in town.” Eddie smirked.

Robin hit him upside the head, “Don’t tell him that asshole, he already thinks I’m crazy enough. And don’t act like this wasn’t your idea!”

Eddie rubbed the back his head in dramatic fashion then yelled, “Snitch!” through hissed teeth.

Steve felt himself unthaw at the idea that these two weirdos woke up this early for him. “Ah, well, thanks, guys.” A blush rose on his cheeks, “Well, thanks for stopping by; you guys can go home and sleep if you want.”

“Stevie, did you think we brought all this to just leave? On your birthday. Oh no, no, no. We are having a whole movie and snack day! I brought weed, and chips, and we can order a pizza later in the day. And just be lazy weirdos in your fancy living room.” Eddie hopped up on his coffee table, startling a laugh from Steve.

“That sounds like a typically Friday for us, what’s so special about it?” Steve teased.

“Well we brought all of your favorite movies! Grease, Top Gun, Karate Kid, Indiana Jones...wait I think I'm noticing a theme here—“

“Robin!” Steve screeched, his blush coming back with vengeance. He didn’t want her to reveal there very obvious, and embarrassing pattern to his favorite films.

“And!” Eddie said from atop his place on the coffee table, unfazed by the two of them, “We are paying for the pizza.” His voice oozed with pride at that. Steve was sure he had come up with the idea.

“Wow I’m a spoiled prince. Maybe ever think I wanted to stay in bed?” Steve raised a single eyebrow.

“Oh but my sweet prince, we know you rather spend this glorious day with us.” Eddie was confident, with confidence came the damn nicknames, and Jesus Christ—this blush of his was never going away. “Besides what else could you wish for!”

A kiss from you. Steve thought quickly.

Steve sighed deeply before saying, “Alright. Get down.”

Eddie seemed taken aback, like he hadn’t expected the rejection. “Oh yea man, of course. We will get out of your hair.” He scrambled off the table.

Steve giggled, “No Eds. I’m moving the coffee table. This couch is a pullout. We can all just lay on it while we watch movies.”

Eddie’s face lit up while Robin yelled, “Oh thank god, I’m exhausted.”

An hour later, when the sun was still barely risen and Grease blared in the background, Robin was bundled up in the blankets they dragged from his room, out like a light.

Eddie and Steve huddled close, but didn’t touch. The anticipation and want sat between them. “I actually have something for you.” Eddie whispered.

Robin snored beside them; Steve looked at her fondly. “You don’t have to whisper; she’s a heavy sleeper. Learned that the hard way.”

“Ah well, I have a present for you.”

Steve knows he should say that Eddie shouldn’t have, or insist he returns it. He knew it was the polite thing to do. He couldn’t find it in himself to do it, though. The idea that Eddie even thought to get him something beyond the amazing day they had planned (truly Steve couldn’t ask for a better day), but Eddie had spent his time to get something for Steve.

It was nice to have someone who would do something nice for you just because they can, not because they should. So, Steve waited patiently as Eddie reached into his bag beside the couch.

“Here.” Eddie spoke, placing the roughly wrapped package in his lap.

There was a tiny notecard with Eddie’s chicken scratch on it; Steve decided to read that first.

Stevie,

No adventure is the same without you, and this is the only one I have taken without you by my side. Thought it was about time we changed that. Hopefully we are not forever partners in crime (we’ve had enough of that) but instead, adventurers taking on then great unknown.

Together.

Yours,

Eddie Munson ッ

Steve smoothed over the card and tried not to cry. The poorly drawn smiley face stared up at him from the piece of parchment. Steve tucked it into his pocket for safe keeping; he might even frame it.

Eddie looked at Steve eagerly as he tried to open the package. He does it slowly to tease Eddie; his frustrated little growl made butterflies in Steve’s stomach.

Inside the package is a worn-out book, one he would recognize anywhere, considering he saw it every day on Eddie’s bookshelf. “Eds, this is your copy of Lord of the Rings. I can’t take this.”

Eddie put his hair in front of his mouth, suddenly shy, “Well, it wouldn’t be exactly yours. It’s just I thought it would be fun to, ya know, read it together? Like we take turns reading to each other. I know the kids always bug you to read it, and I noticed that it’s hard for you to focus sometimes, and I get that, so it might be easier if we like make it a thing? I know it’s probably not your interest; it’s my favorite book, not yours, so you know what? This is stupid—“

Steve cut him off by pulling him into a hug. Steve buried himself into Eddie’s neck before saying, “Thank you. It’s the best birthday present.”

“Really?” Eddie pulled back to look at Steve’s face. Whatever he found there must settle him, because he relaxed his shoulders. “I know it’s silly, but I guess I wanted to share this piece of myself with you…and maybe spend some more time together.”

Steve didn’t mention how they spent almost every day together, didn’t think he had to either. They both knew.

Steve decided to be bold instead. He pushed Eddie back into the couch and settled his back into Eddie’s chest. He snuggled into the warmth of his arms.

Steve put the book in Eddie’s hand. “Okay, you read first.”

Eddie laughed; Steve could feel the vibrations from under his skin. It was delightful; it was delicious. “Oh, you want to start now?”

Steve made an indignant noise while Eddie laughed again at him. His hands settled at the back of Steve’s neck as he played with hair that brushed it.

“When Mr Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventyifirst birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was …”

And once again, hours later, when Steve woke up, after drifting to Eddie’s soft, deep voice, Steve felt something settle in him. He felt Eddie lightly snoring beneath him, one hand still tangled in his hair. He felt Robin’s hand wrapped around his ankle, grounding the both of them. And there, between all of them, was the fallen book with no bookmark, signaling they would have to start again.

Maybe, sometimes. Steve thinks, birthdays could be good.

***

projecting. projecting. projecting. that’s me.

I hope you guys liked this one :) I did use my own bday for him, but the time he was born at is different than mine lol. I had a lot of fun writing it, it was just the softness I needed.

[n3ptoonz]

Hello! I saw your most recent headcanon list thing with the Earthrealm guys being caught Slonking it Silly Style™ and uh. I was just wondering if you'd be willing to do something similar with the Outworld guys as well? Obviously you don't have to if you don't want to, but I think it would be neat! Thank you so much in advance! I love your work :)

deep, dramatic sigh. (kidding anon tysm i gush over comments like this ily smoochhhh) also the terminology made me laugh out loud ty for that

Shang Tsung

kinda sorta didn't gaf. who's to say he didn't want you to hear him. the world may never know

you were to report to him about some findings for his experiments and there he was, leaning over the table and straight up cranking it over a bucket (he's odd like that) honestly when you acknowledge your own presence he's like... can i help you?? you see i'm busy???

but at the same time he's like hold up i have a fine specimen here to help me out here...he's leaving here with SOMETHING (studio laughter)

Rain

i don't think he'd care either if you walked in on him. in fact, he might welcome it. he's used to having his own space, but he doesn't mind sharing it with people he's ok with being around. yes that includes you (is it only you? not even he knows yet)

day 8163 of using Rain's arrogance to push my narrative that he's not only in love with himself but how he looks in the mirror. you definitely walked in on him wanking it in the mirror and he'd freeze but recover so quick

ain't no way you're leaving here after you just caught him though. how else will his problems get solved? you went and made him hard all over again!

Reptile

syzoth has two, let's get that out the way. AND he uses both hands for them LMAOO

president of syzoth is a lil subby bitch society. so when you catch him tugging on both and reduced to a pathetic mess from his own hands??? he's frozen and quite literally has no clue what to do. he's sweaty, there's tears in his eyes, and his fangs are much more pronounced than usual

once you give him the green light that you're into whatever tf he was just doing watch him crawl over to you on all fours and hug your legs, practically begging you to touch him

Havik

expect this smug fuck to claim he wanted this to happen. dude was hunched over and going at it behind his own desk, grunting like a cave man who discovered self pleasure for the first time

1000% expect him to demand you help him, but instead it's after he froze for like 5 seconds and then tried to play it off

he would also be internally shocked when agree to finish the job, but on the outside it's like "that's what i thought...now get over here" whole time he's jumping up and down and twirling in his brain

Reiko

it's already rare that he has time to himself and definitely RARELY has time to be with you for an extended period of time, so you catching him when you wanted to surprise him with your presence it triggered his fight or fight LMAO

legit laughed at the thought of him jumping up from his chair hands ready to be thrown...but his dick is swinging PLSSSSSS

he's like well shit now he deserves your help after you almost got two pieced by your own boyfriend...but who's complaining?!

General Shao

this man weirdly reminds me of bowser sometimes. with that being said i think he'd do a BUAHA as a shocked sound when you catch him thwoping the schlong

as much as i can't fucking stand him he does look a lil better in this game i will admit. i'm not gonna sit up here and lie, he def has a HUGE wanker innit. so you didn't miss shit when you walked into his chambers

he would also demand your help. but if you have a lil push back just for fun, he'd eventually say please and be all soft and shit. why? cause it's you god damn it!

Baraka

let's be fr. truly i do not think mk1 baraka would masterbate simply bc he's like depressed all the time😭but for the sake of shits and gigs, ill humor y'all

let's say he hasn't seen you in a while and misses you dearly. he knew you were on a quest for a while, and he was very pent up... so what better way to release stress other than sparring! oh. not enough? time for another type spar 😈

if this were old baraka i'd say he has two 👁️ but since this version of tarkat is a disease let's say it made the skin around his wee like ribbed or something ya SO when you caught him he was in a straight up panic and apologizing profusely but once you calm him down and tell him you're glad he missed you so much, he's like oh shit...well help me out then...only if you want to!

a/n: i did it y'all FUCK. my bad for taking so long to release this i'm a perfectionist to a fault💀

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 || 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐌𝐈̇𝐂𝐒

** banner by the amazing @pedrorascal thank you so much bby for taking the time to make this for me 🧡🧡🧡

series summary: Still struggling to come to terms with his father's recent passing, burdened by the weight of the business he left behind, Javi feels adrift. Meanwhile, years later, an unexpected twist of fate brings you back into Javi's life again—the daughter of his favorite housekeeper. Uncertain about your future and what to do with it, you find yourself at a crossroads, while Javi wrestles with the irresistible pull he feels towards you.

pairing:  javi gutierrez x ofc!mia pradera (written in second person, no body descriptions)

word count: 6.1k

chapter summary: Javi wasn't expecting your return after years, he also wasn't expecting to see you naked through his bedroom window.

warnings: javi secretly peeping into your room through the window, male masturbation, thoughts of oral, age gap, javi showing signs of depression, grief, brief mention of drug use

a/n: welcome to the new and improved first chapter of the series! I've been reworking this for a week now and decided to repost it. There's a lot that has been changed and added so I highly recommend reading this one before going forward. The second chapter will be coming soon (and I mean it this time lmaodfvd) I'll be making the other version of the first chapter private and I'm hoping you guys will enjoy this version as well 💜💜💜

Special thank you to @emilianamason who beta'd this for me and also helped me out with the Spanish bits, I'm truly grateful so thank you once again 💕

***dividers by @firefly-graphics 💕

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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The sky is a matte gray. It reminds Javi of the sea when there’s a storm raging underneath, the sand lifting from the bottom and giving the beautiful blue a more mud-like color. He sees crunchy leaves and smells cinnamon. It’s fall alright. He always finds this time of year a bit somber but in a romantic way. He’s holding a cup of espresso, the dark liquid still steaming. The pool has been drained for cleaning. 

He can hear clatter coming from inside the house, mattresses are being flipped, apple pies are being baked. He’s the only man that lives here, yet everyone who works here spoils him, even if they don’t need to. No one really says anything but Javi can see it, the way they walk on eggshells around him, the conversations that fade into hushed whispers that carry the same lilt of his name. 

Everyone treats him as a child. Not that he can blame them. Javi gave them little reason to behave otherwise. He did drugs, knew how to shoot a gun, and was the son of one of the most powerful men but still. . . he was a child in the sense that he knew little of the world. He wasn’t like Lucas who was more than eager to get his hands dirty. 

A gentle child, that was what his father called him when he was young. He always uttered the words gently. Yet, hidden within his gentle expression but in his eyes, Javi could see the disappointment. He wanted a partner. Someone who did more than looking over the olive oil and wine business, it didn’t matter if Javi was good at it, his father wanted more of him.

In the end, he doesn’t mind the pampering—he’s grieving, isn’t he? He deserves it. He had no one else to take care of him, and the staff had been with him for years. He feels closer to them than Lucas. When his cousin mentioned taking over, Javi didn’t care. Not in the slightest. They were close enough that Javi didn’t have to worry about being killed or thrown out. 

Besides, Javi enjoyed the finer things in life, which is why he didn’t mind overlooking the “front” of the job. He made sure that everything ran smoothly and Lucas seemed impressed by the growth of the business. Javi hated to admit it, but he did enjoy seeing that faint shimmer in his cousin’s eyes. The look that said; Oh, he’s not completely useless after all. 

Besides, Javi enjoys sampling the wine. He adores the sourness that hits his tongue with every swallow. 

“¿Discúlpeme señor?” 

He takes a sip of his coffee. 

“¿Si, señorita Pradera?” 

Javi turns to look at her, a little smile playing on his lips. Lucía is one of his favorite employees and one of the ones that can read him like an open book. She’s a natural mother, a caretaker. Whenever he’s down on himself, she never once hesitated to pick him back up. It didn’t matter if he was shaking from going overboard on LSD or if he was crying during Paddington 2, she was there. It was nice to be taken care of. Something he couldn’t receive from his own family— maybe once or twice from his father. Javi didn’t know who his mother was, there was a lot of speculation about that. 

Lucía just makes him happy. Talking to her feels like something light. He doesn’t need to overthink it, and if he says something wrong, he could always come and apologize. She never held a grudge. But despite how cheerful she seems, in her eyes, Javi can see the soft waves of sadness. Sometimes he saw the same waves in his own eyes, telling him that he was disappointing someone somewhere, that he’s done too many mistakes to turn back from. 

She seems to be genuinely happy this time, her cheeks slightly flushed, forehead and cheeks glistening with a sheer coat of sweat. 

“Do you remember, Mia?” she asks. “Mi hija.” 

That’s right, Lucía had a daughter. Javi remembers you running around before you left to live with your father in the States. She often mentioned your name and sometimes she left to visit her but Mia never came. He isn’t sure if it was the father who didn’t let her or if Mia herself didn’t want to come, but regardless, Lucía was hurt by being away from her daughter for so long. 

"I wanted to ask if my daughter could come para una visita. She's done with university y necesita un lugar to relax, figure things out." 

He takes another sip of his coffee, it’s finished now. A leaf slowly spins down from above, the sunlight gently filtering through its translucent veins. It lands gently in the empty pool. 

“¡Pero claro que si!” he says, and smiles. “When is she coming?” 

“Next week.” 

Javi was sitting on the terrace when you arrived. 

He has a small plate of olive oil with thyme placed in front of him. Tearing a slice of bread into two, he dips a piece into the aromatic blend and brings it to his mouth. Javi only bites the part drenched in olive oil, he savors the taste, the sharp taste of dried thyme hitting his tongue. Shortly after, he goes for a second dip. 

When he’s done chewing, you’re already at the top of the stairs. 

You have no luggage, only a large backpack that slightly pulls your body back. Javi recognizes your face, the soft features he’s grown accustomed to when you were trailing behind your mother, asking to watch a movie on the big screen. You look more mature now, the corners of your face sharper yet still carry that roundness. 

You’re staring at him as if he’s a long-lost sibling, your smile bright and wide. The expression is contagious, making him smile wide as well. Your gaze reminds him of a look he’s only seen in movies, the close-ups that sole purpose is to show the fondness in a person’s eyes. He’s not sure what he feels about that fond look in your eyes. Your gaze is incredibly soft and affectionate for a person who has been in the air for god knows how long—which is why he’s usually flying people in instead of the other way around. 

You can see right through him, he thinks, nerves crackling with an uncomfortable feeling. It makes him conscious about how broken he truly is, his mask hardening the longer you smile. 

“Javi!” you exclaim, arms opening wide. Not knowing what else to do Javi mimics you and wraps his arms around you. You giggle into his chest, your breath warm on his chest. “¡Te he extrañado!” 

He missed you too. 

Javi's ear catches the trace of an accent in your Spanish. 

You smell of cheap coffee, chocolate, and the airport—and also a little bit of sweat, which is normal after such a long flight. Javi squeezes you once and feels you melting against him, you really must be tired to become so plaint under his touch. Swiftly, he releases his grip, yet your palms find solace on his shoulders, causing him to awkwardly flex his knees in order to accommodate the lingering touch. He wasn’t aware of how close you were standing. Your breath mingling with his own as your eyes dance along his face, taking in every worn-out detail. 

You suddenly pull your hands back, a bashful chuckle slipping past your lips. 

“Sorry about that— I’m feeling a bit jet-lagged.” you rock back and forth on your heels, anxious energy overwhelming your nerves. “How have you been?”

Javi stands still, eyes slightly wide, not knowing how to answer such a question. Physically, he feels good. Mentally, also good but he isn’t sure. He’s fine during the day, his routine occupying his mind enough so that he doesn’t register the loss. His father wasn’t around that much anyway. But when night fell and he laid his head against his overly fluffed pillow. . . that’s when he remembered. His chest ached, his eyes stung. He didn’t know how to deal with it so he remained silent, staring blankly at the ceiling. 

Sometimes he even gets angry trying to muster up an answer. 

He can never get angry with you though, besides you had no idea of knowing. His tongue nervously swipes over his bottom lip and his teeth dig into the inside of his cheek. He’s about to answer, say he’s fine, but you beat him to it. 

“God, I’m being such an ass. Of course, you’re not okay,” you murmur more to yourself than him. He still hears you though and your words catch him by surprise. You softly hit yourself in the head, which makes worry roll down his spine. “I’m really sorry about your father, Javi. My mom told me. That must’ve been hard for you.” 

Has it been hard for him? 

Honestly, he’s not sure. His death, his funeral… it all passed by in such a blur. He remembers his father dying slowly, in an expensive hospital bed with flowers by his side. Javi doesn’t quite remember the rest. He doesn’t remember the funeral, the moment he was gently laid into the earth, never to be seen again. 

He does remember feeling Gabriella’s hand on his shoulder. He also remembers Lucas standing close to him, his eyes watching the casket go down. 

“I am okay,” he takes the hand that you’d hit yourself with, thumb slowly moving over the soft planes of your hand. He smiles when you let out a sigh of relief and turns his eyes to the empty chairs. “And thank you. I have been doing better. Why don’t you take a seat, you must be tired. I will call your mother for you.” 

He watches as you take a seat and after a brief phone call to Lucía, Javi sits down as well. He asks what you’ve been up to, about your life in America after you’d moved away from your mother. Briefly, Javi sees a hint of hesitation and regret pooling in your eyes. He doesn’t know much about why you left, he only remembers that you were young back then, just a kid basically. 

Javi manages to ease your thoughts by slowly sliding the basket full of bread and the small plate of olive oil toward your way, saying that you should eat. Only after the first bite you being to speak freely, telling him how hard university has been and that the competition was rough and had drained you out, making you feel like a shell of a person. 

“You’re not a shell,” he answers, brows drawn together. You smile between bites of oil-soaked breath, shooting him an appreciative smile. 

“You’re still the nicest man I know,” you say. Javi’s not sure how you could’ve drawn that connection, he doesn’t remember doing anything to gather such an observation but takes the compliment anyway. “I had a troublesome professor. He really did a number on me mentally, I like my field but I really want to do something else with my life.” 

“And what is that?” he dips the leftover bread into the last pools of olive oil. “What do you want to do?” 

"I yearn to weave tales," you express with a melodic lilt as if addressing an audience, then you laugh. Javi feels like he’s watching his favorite painting come to life, raw and vivid. “Sorry, that sounded snobby of me didn’t it?” your tongue pokes through your cheek. “I want to write a book, create screenplays, and even directing—I want to do it all. That's why I'm so happy mom called me here. It's such a beautiful place to think about big things like that, you know? And well. . . "

You trail off and worry your bottom lip between your teeth. “You’re here too, which is nice. You still like watching movies?” 

“Of course,” he answers, feeling the tip of his ears growing warm. “You know that I take my movie-watching very seriously.” 

You’re grinning now, “I do. I think you might be the one who introduced me to the media actually. We watched movies at home but here. . . ” you sigh, eyes taking in the scenery. “Here it felt magical. And I loved the endless movie facts you seemed to have stored up in that brain of yours.” 

“You flatter me,” despite himself, he’s smiling from ear to ear. “It’s nice that you want to direct.” 

“That’s only one of the things I want to do,” you say, stuffing your mouth with the last bit of bread. “But yeah. I know it’s a competitive field, some parts of it are downright evil, but it just calls to me. Imagine someone watching your story, isn’t that exciting?” 

Javi's mouth momentarily opens, then promptly shuts. Yes, it is exciting.

Suddenly your brows furrow, your gaze meeting his as you swallow, “Didn’t you want to write a script as well? I remember you being really into Nicolas Cage.” 

His lips part again but the words die on his tongue. He’s surprised that you remember so much about him. In all honesty, Javi does remember the movie nights he had with you before you left—But it definitely wasn’t anything inspirational. During the many boring, work-related dinners, he would find you crouched behind the wall listening, watching your mother, clearly bored out of your mind. He asked if you wanted to watch a movie one night, and you said yes. After that, it became a habit. You would come to him, tugging his sleeve and asking to go to the cinema room. He happily indulged, of course. 

Javi doesn’t remember the first movie he played for you, but he does remember the second one; Raising Arizona. 

Thankfully, your mother's animated voice swiftly dispels the silence that was dancing on the line of turning awkward.

“Mia!” Lucía's attempt to reach her daughter almost resulted in a tumble down the stairs. She catches herself midstep. “¡Estás aquí! How was your flight?” 

“¡Mamá!” 

Javi watches them hug, an uncomfortable yearning stirring in his gut. In a tearful embrace, Lucía holds you close, squeezing her daughter tight. 

Javi wanted to talk more about films, ask about your favorite actors, he wanted to hear your stories. He seems to be invisible to them now, not that he blames them. Just in case one of them catches his wistful look, he forces a smile. 

They climb up the stairs, mother and daughter. Javi catches fragments of Lucía's voice, softly describing the breathtaking view from your room. A feeling he can’t place tugs gently at his heart and whatever it was, he keeps it hidden beneath his quivering smile. 

Javi stares at the now empty basket and plate. He sees only crumbs. The chair you were sitting in is pushed back, misplaced, forgotten. He picks up the plate and basket, slides the chair back into place, and heads up the stairs, making his way to the kitchen. 

Javi is laying on the bed, the sheets cozy and warm. A book rests delicately between his broad palms but his mind is elsewhere, the words only mere shapes inked on paper. 

He’s thinking of you. How full of life you are, how you still have ambitions– Your life full of undiscovered paths, he envies it. He envies the hope, the excitement, the illusion of choice. He’s happy for you, of course, but he can’t help the wistful beating of his heart. He had responsibilities since the day he was born. Javi is aware that he’s a privileged man. He’s not going to pity himself in thinking that he isn’t. He got what he wanted, but he also heard an earful about how he was wasting his life on silly things. That he should focus. 

Focus on what? He always wanted to ask. He didn’t see why he couldn’t indulge in his hobbies and the business that was forced upon him. In the end, his father’s greatest fear came true, Javi has no interest in taking over. The family patriarch never said anything but it was clear to Javi that his father was disappointed. 

A soft, gentle light catches his attention. It pours through the expansive, elegant windows adorned with ornate square bars reminiscent of wrought iron. Closing his book, Javi assumes a sitting position, his socked feet firmly planted on the cool floor. His interest is piqued. Normally, no one stays in the building across from him. It was usually reserved for family visits. 

What happens next is an accident. 

Or perhaps it is a blessing disguised as an accident. He’s undecided.

Javi sees you, towel loosely wrapped around your figure, hair still dripping wet. His mouth goes dry, eyes wide as he stares, unable to tear away his darkened gaze. Compared to when he first saw you today, your walk is slow, languid. You stand at the side of the bed and clumsily free yourself of the tight clutch of the fluffy towel. Dipping your head, you cradle the back of it with the towel and fold it in front, only to throw your entire head back, leaving you bare for all to see. 

His cheeks become a shade darker, fingers uncontrollably twitching against his thigh. The muscle at the base of his stomach tightens, radiating warmth.

Did you know? Were you aware that he could see you? No, of course not. There’s no fathomable reason as to why you would want him to lay his eyes on you. Javi holds his breath. He should say something, should he not? 

Briefly, you disappear from his eye line only to reappear a short moment later with two bottles of —what he assumes— lotion in your hands. His cock hardens as you slather your body with lotion. He swears he can smell it. A delicate scent that carries notes of daffodil and vanilla. He doesn’t know what to do with himself. Warm honey drips down his spine, forcing goosebumps to appear over his skin. He hates that he’s still watching.

He knows what he'll see if he was brave enough to look down; the telltale bulge of arousal within the front of his sweatpants. He can feel it twitching angrily, tempting him to reach down and take it in his hand and give in to the pleasure that would undoubtedly come with it.

Why the fuck is he still watching? 

You start applying the lotion from your legs, going all the way up to your thighs. You massage it sensually into your skin, fingers spread wide as you lean down and pull yourself back up. Javi’s stomach churns, his own hand sneaking under the waistband of his sweats. He wraps his fingers around his thick cock, thinking how fortunate it was that he skipped wearing boxers before bed. 

His shirt sticks to his skin. His chest heaving as he begins to stroke himself, the pressure of his hand makews his eyes roll back. His thumb swipes at the slit, spreading the precum all over the length of his cock. A groan echoes from the back of his throat. His hand is moving with ease now, tenderly gliding up and down his hard cock. 

His teeth clenched tightly together, Javi’s eyes flicker back to the window. Your hands slide up your stomach and over your breasts, they bounce perfectly as gravity tugs them back down. You spread the lotion over your chest and neck. His hand moves faster. He slightly hunches forward, hips jerking as if he’s actually fucking himself into you. 

His mouth opens in a silent moan as his fingers grip the base of his shaft. The sensation builds until his spine is aching for release. His hips buck against his hand and his thighs clench as the pleasure courses through his veins.

Javi imagines the soft moans he'd hear coming from his mouth, your lips wrapping tightly around the tip of his cock. His body tenses at the fictitious swirl of your tongue, tantalizing flexing with each stroke that takes him closer to the edge. With each thrust of his hips your body would grind against his leg, he’d feel you quiver. He thinks of the slickness of your saliva sliding down his length as you suck him dry.  You’d squeeze his hips with both of your hands. . .  it feels like electricity shooting through him. He wants to feel you against him, feel the heat of your skin, and kiss you senseless.

He cums hard while you’re getting dressed, his jaw lax as he thrusts fervently into his fist. His sweatpants cling to him like a second skin. He can feel the sticky mess inside as it pools in the fabric, disgusted by the warmth of his own body as it wraps around him. There’s a short second where the urge to throw up consumes him, he thinks about running to the toilet, emptying everything out to trick himself to believe that it never happened. 

But it did. 

The lights of your room fade away, only the moon left to kiss away Javi’s concern. His legs tremble and ache as he gets up. Pleasure still licks at his body, making him want more. His soft cock is uncomfortable trapped under his sweatpants, throbbing and aching despite the events that just transpired. 

Javi grabs a new pair, this one thinner than the other and heads to the bathroom.

Javi jolts awake to the sound of a loud knock. Groggily, he rises from his bed, attempting to rub the sleep from his eyes with a loose fist. Another knock follows, causing a small, annoyed growl to escape his chest. He reluctantly opens the door, his eyes half-lidded, only to find a familiar face on the other side that leaves him momentarily dumbfounded. 

Memories of the previous night flash through his mind, and suddenly he becomes acutely aware of his morning arousal, discreetly straining against the front of his sweatpants.

“Mia?” he asks, voice thick with sleep. “What are you doing here?” 

He notices the set of clean towels in your hands, but his attention is captivated by the way your eyes sweep over his body, your lips forming a mischievous smile. Confusion tugs at his thoughts while a gentle, chilling breeze infiltrates his room, leaving his abdomen colder than usual.

Oh. 

OH. 

He doesn’t have his shirt on—shit. 

“Looking good Señor Gutierrez,” you tease, eyes going over his body one more time. “Mom told me I should help around, so I brought you your clean towels.” 

“Ah,” he says stupidly. “Gracias, querida. I hope she is not working you too hard.” 

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you shrug. “Besides, I’m staying here rent-free. I might as well do a bit of work.” 

He takes the towels, his hands feeling oddly disconnected, as if they belong to someone else. You flash him a final smile before pivoting on your heel. Javi watches with undeniable hunger as you confidently strutted away, his eyes admiring the way your hips sway as you saunter off. He feels the familiar stirring in his body, his cock demanding attention that he can’t give in the middle of the hallway. He continues to gaze until you vanish into one of the many corridors.

His throat feels unbelievably tight as he closes the door and heads to the bathroom. Javi feels a flock of birds pecking at his brain, reminding him of Prometheus. He doesn’t know what he should be feeling. The only thing he does know is that he shouldn’t be thinking of you in such a way. 

Javi stares at his reflection in the mirror. The whites of his eyes are stained red, the bags underneath prominent and dark. It looks as if he hasn’t slept in years. 

A deep sigh escapes his lips as he undresses. He won’t be seeing you like that again anyway, there’s no point in dwelling over something that only happened once.  

Javi had underestimated how frequently he would be seeing you around. Your gaze is constant. He knows you’re watching him without actually having to look; his skin tightens, the back of his head starting to tingle. You’re mostly doing chores and don’t stop to chat with him, which he’s grateful for. But still, from your gaze, he senses that unlike him, you do want to talk. 

The guilt is eating him from the inside out. Your naked form is engraved into the back of his lids, whenever he closes his eyes, he sees you. The sting of his eyes is constant, aching for moisture. He can’t fight against it and blinks, and as soon as he does, his cock grows hard.

Lucía would be furious with him if she knew—she’d be absolutely disgusted. 

He worries that you might’ve seen him last night. Maybe that’s why you wanted to stop and talk with him. Fortunately, the mansion is spacious enough to provide him with hiding spots, allowing him to retreat when needed.

With each passing hour of the day, his uncertainty and guilt fester within him like poison.

He hurries to his bedroom as soon as dinner is over. Normally, he would have a glass of wine, engage in conversation with the staff, and unwind. However, not today, not with you present. . . observing him. . . talking to him.

He just can’t. 

Javi ignores confused glances directed at him and excuses himself. The looks linger as he walks away, though there’s a probable chance that he might be imagining it. He’s convinced that you and your mother are both counting his every step.  He doesn’t turn to check.  

When he closes the door to his bedroom, back pressed snug against the wood, his breathing becomes strained, lungs rattling with every struggling gasp of air. His pupils blown, his gaze immediately flickers to your bedroom window. Much to his relief, and disappointment, the lights are off. 

Javi settles onto the bed, the watch on his bedside table ticking away, drawing closer to the time he had seen you naked yesterday. He finds himself waiting until the hands of the clock reach the exact same moment. The lights are still off. Another minute goes by. 

Then, finally, a beam of light that comes from a far pours through his windows, shadows stretching across the floor. He can breathe again. 

Standing in the middle of the room, you stretch, your arms seemingly reaching for the sun. Javi’s gaze follows your every move. He watches as you scroll on your phone for about five minutes on the bed. He watches as you disappear, leaving him to stare into an empty room. He watches as he swears he can hear the music that you’re blasting from your phone. 

He watches and waits until he can see you again. Just like the day before. Bare. Soft. 

His mouth waters, cock already throbbing with need. 

Javi’s not sure how long he waits. It could’ve been an hour or a minute, but whatever time had passed, you appear once again, the same towel wrapped around your body. 

His mouth dry, he swallows hard. Javi's breath catches in his throat as his eyes drift over your curves. Unbidden, his hand moves eagerly to his crotch, eyes fixated on you as he palms himself. His tongue peeks out, wetting his lips as you shift onto your stomach. Your towel slides up, revealing the perfect mounds of your ass, and he gulps, his fingertips trembling as he hastily unzips himself. A moan escapes him as he admires the lobes of your ass peeking from beneath the towel.

Precum already oozes from the tip, and Javi eagerly wraps his fingers around his hardening cock. His strokes are slick and smooth, his breaths coming faster.

Javi hears the rush of blood pounding in his ears as his breathing grows even more jagged with every passionate thrust of his hips. You lift your legs, spreading them apart and crossing them from side to side while watching a video from your phone, completely unaware. His hungry gaze is met with the entire expanse of your body exposed only to him as small water droplets still cling to your skin, cascading down your legs and wetting the area between them. The sinful image of your pretty pussy becoming wet and glistening spurs him on, he imagines how wet you’d be, only for him.

He pushes his hips harder against his fist, the need to feel connected to you driving him forward. His pounding heart is accompanied by an unquenchable craving to touch and explore every inch of your body. 

Javi’s grip tightens and tremors start to run through his body. His head drops back as his movements quicken, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. With a deep moan, his muscles coil tight as the pleasure cascades through him, a warm rush flooding every inch of him. He shudders joyfully and with a final thrust, he coats his fist in his own release.

His face is contorted in a blissful expression, his eyes closed in reverence. Drops of sweat slowly trickle down his toned body, drawing paths through the smattering of light brown hair that adorns his tanned skin. His lips are slightly parted as he drinks in the pleasure, a low moan coursing through his lips. 

With half-lidded eyes, Javi’s gaze drops down to his spent cock. He made a mess of himself and the floor underneath, the pearly droplets glistening in the soft light. 

He’s going to have to clean that.

The guilt comes rushing through. He’s disgusted by himself, the feeling tasting of bile that is thick on his tongue. It felt good at the given moment but now that his head is clearing, what he did just makes him feel sick. He’s quick to wipe the floor with one of his shirts, then tosses it into the laundry basket for cleaning.

Javi gives you one last glance before leaving the room, you’re still on your phone, completely oblivious to him. 

He decides to stay in one of the guestrooms that night, but it doesn’t stop with one. 

Javi stays there the next night, and the next— 

And the one after that. 

“Are you ignoring me?”

“What— No, why would you think that?” 

Javi was lying, of course. He’d been avoiding you like the plague, turning the other way whenever he saw you approaching him. It's been about a week since he changed rooms. He didn’t tell anyone about it, the house was big enough for him to occupy another room without anyone knowing. 

However, he hadn’t expected you to actively seek him out, which he now realized was stupid of him. He just wanted to do a bit of skeet shooting, a means to vent his frustrations. The morning was chilly and it made goosebumps rise across his skin. He enjoyed the feeling, which was why he skipped wearing a jacket. 

You, on the other hand, were covered from head to toe. 

“I don’t know,” you mutter, wrapping your arms around yourself. A faint cloud dances from your lips. “Maybe it’s just me being paranoid. You really don’t mind me being here, right?” 

Javi gently leans the gun against the sturdy stone rail. His heart clenches at your question, he never wanted you to feel guilty, or for you to feel unwanted. He slowly shakes his head, his gaze rising up to meet yours. 

“Por supuesto que no,” he responds, his voice quivering, the biting air seeming to grip his vocal cords as he struggles to express himself. Of course, he doesn’t mind. “You are free to stay here as long as you wish. I just…I have been—” 

He chokes up, mouth gaping, his gaze still fixed on yours. You're the first to look away, shifting your eyes elsewhere, and instinctively, you hug yourself tighter, trying to ward off the chill in the air. A nervous laugh escapes your lips.

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me, at least, not if you don’t want to. I’m always happy to listen. I just wanted to be sure if I was overstaying my welcome or not.” 

“It’s okay. As I said, you are free to stay.” 

You smile at him then, asking him whether or not he'll be joining you for breakfast, he says that he’ll come after taking a couple more shots. You eye the rifle, eyebrow raised in a peculiar way. You state that it’s too cold and head inside. Javi stares as you leave, he decides not to shoot anything, instead, he follows you to the dining room. 

Javi moves back into his room that night. 

You had excused yourself early claiming that you felt dirty and needed a shower. Javi couldn’t help it. He waits, like always does. A week of not seeing you made him grow hungry, his body was left in a constant state of wanting. He needed to see you, he needed to cum while witnessing your naked body. 

This time he has no shame in ridding himself of his pants, wrapping a hand around himself, he lazily strokes himself. He still remembers every curve and crevice of your body, it haunts him day and night, decorating his dreams and nightmares alike. Javi’s eyes travel along the windowsill of your room, the lights are still off, much to his surprise. 

He’s startled as the door slams open, a triumphant “I knew it!” ringing out. 

With panic, Javi attempts to pull up his pants but the stubborn fabric sticks to his legs instead, making him stumble forward and almost falls off the bed. Luckily, he manages to catch himself at the very last second, planting himself firmly on the mattress. He hears the door close, more silently compared to how it was opened, he finds himself staring at your shoes. He gulps. 

“Why are you here?” he asks, voice horrified. “How long have you known?” 

“Not that long,” you answer. He still refuses to meet your gaze. “I had my suspicions when you started to avoid me, then I noticed you switched rooms. One night I waited in my room to see if you were watching or not.” 

Tears sting the corner of his eyes, he’s pathetic. Then, like a soothing oceanic breeze, he feels your finger curling underneath his chin, forcing his downcast gaze up. His cheeks flush at the soft touch. He expects you to laugh at him, but he finds a gaze of sympathy instead. You pull down his bottom lip and every bit of oxygen leaves his lungs. 

“Lo siento, Mia,” he whispers. 

“Está bien, I don’t care. I. . . I have an idea, actually.” 

Wide-eyed, he looks at you with concern. Your thumb still lingers on his lip, he enjoys it there, he enjoys the comfort you provide despite his mind screaming at him how disgusting and pitiful he is. 

“And what might that be?” 

“We can. . . help each other out,” you answer,  flustered, your breathing short. “If you want to, that is. I had a stressful year. . . I wouldn’t mind having some fun.” 

His brows furrow, “I do not understand.” 

Another lie. He did. He just couldn’t believe it to be true. 

“I think you do, Señor Gutierrez,” you tease. His heart skips a beat at the playful lilt of your voice, his mind is racing. You squeeze his bottom lip gently and his breath hitches. 

“I’m not—” he licks his lips, the tip of it touching the pad of your thumb. “I am not that experienced.” 

This time his whole body burns. He had lovers in the past, of course, but not many. None of those relationships lasted long either, how could it with the family that he had? He wasn’t even sure what he liked or disliked, and after a while, he just stopped trying to form a meaningful connection with anyone. He closed up, not really knowing what else to do with the cards he was dealt with. 

Your answer takes him by surprise. 

“That’s okay. We can learn new things about each other, together.” 

His heart flutters at the softness of your voice, the kindness of your smile. He parts his lips to speak, to tell you how grateful he is, but before he can, you drop to your knees, a sly smile stretching across your face. 

“Do you want my help?” you ask, your fingers spread across his thighs. He sucks in a sharp breath as you give him a gentle, yet firm, squeeze. “Tell me what you want, Javi.” 

“I would— I would love to feel your lips on my cock, princesa.” 

“Princesa?” you repeat, amused. “I like the sound of that.” 

He finds heaven between your lips. 

[topguncortez]

I'll Never Push You Around || Whumptober Day 19 - B. Floyd

whumptober masterlist

synopsis: you've been hiding something from Bob for a while, and when the truth gets exposed, he reacts in a way you weren't expecting

word count: 1.8k

@ailesswhumptober prompt: "why wasn't I enough?"

warnings: cheating, pregnancy, manipulation, anger issues, breaking glass, fighting, dark!bob

You sat staring at the pink stick in your hands, that stupid plus sign staring back at you. You had wanted this, at some point in your life, but not like this. Definitely not like this. You set the stick down, washed your hands, and then went and flopped down on your bed. You grabbed the pillow and held it to your face, letting out a scream. 

This is your karma, this is what you deserve. There was no one or nothing you could blame this on, but yourself. You couldn’t blame the distance between you and Bob, or him spending longer days at the hangar, or the fights that you two seemed to pick all the time. There was nothing you could say that drove you into the arms of another man. You felt sick, not sure if it was morning sickness or the feeling of guilt rising in your body. 

You jumped up from the bed, running for the bathroom. You barely got the toilet lid up as you were throwing up the contents of your lunch. Tears streamed down your face as you heaved. The only thing going through your mind was how you were going to tell Bob. 

Bob has been your everything for the past 3 years of your life. You had met him while you were singing at a local jazz club, and it had truly been love at first sight. Bob had never been so in love with someone’s voice, but he did. He had met you right after your set, and asked you out. You were nervous at first, not really wanting to put your heart back out on the firing line. You had recently gotten out of a bad breakup, but Bob made you remember what it was like to be loved again. 

Bob did everything he could to remind you how much you meant to him, and how much he had loved you. You two had promised each other to never go to bed angry, and usually, it worked. You two would argue, spend some time apart in various places of the house, and then reconcile so you both could sleep soundly next to each other. But the last fight you two had, was nasty. Words that weren’t supposed to be shared, we’re shared. Thoughts that were meant to stay with one another were spoken out loud. Glass, pictures, and flowers had been thrown around the house, making it look like a hurricane in its wake. Bob had left, not giving you any explanation of where he was going. 

— — —

You were shaking with tears, and called the one person you knew you could talk to. He had comforted you, helping you pick up the pieces of the torn relationship. He held you while you cried, letting you get out all your emotions. He even stayed, knowing that he probably shouldn’t have. He laid down next to you, holding you. He could smell Bob’s shampoo lingering on the pillow, when you first kissed him. He could see the faint love bites Bob had left a couple of nights ago, as he took off your shirt. 

“We shouldn’t do this,” He whispered. 

“Please,” You whined, “He won’t touch me, he won’t even look at me. I need it, please.” 

He loved the way you were begging, so he threw all possible caution to the wind, gripping your hips, dragging them back and forth over his clothed cock. He discarded your clothes, leaving you both naked and exposed to each other. Your hands roamed his muscular back as he thrust into you. You were thankful it was dark in the room, as silent tears ran down your face in guilt and pleasure. 

— — —

That night of complete weakness had been almost two months ago. The next day Bob had come home, knocking shyly on the door. You were startled, running downstairs before he could find you and the familiar stranger in bed together. Bob had brought your favorite flowers, apologizing for the words he had said. You asked to be left alone for the day, and he obliged, promising to come home for dinner though. Once he had left, you ran upstairs to kick the man in your bed out. 

But since that day, your relationship with Bob has slowly started to heal itself. You and Bob had talked about the faults in the relationship, and promised to heal what was broken. He had invited you to the Hard Deck on Friday nights, integrating you in with his coworkers. You had bought new glassware to replace what was broken in the fight. Bob also had picked up on the spontaneity, having flowers delivered to the house, or picking up dinner on a random night. Everyone around you seemed to pick up on the new and improved moods of both of you. Your love sick smiles and puppy love flooded over to everyone else, but one person. 

— — — 

“You need to fucking tell him.” He whispers to you. He dragged you down the hallway to talk to you the moment he saw you walk in with a shiny ring on your finger. 

“I can’t do that. We’re finally happy again, why can’t you just let it be.” You spoke, folding your arms over your chest. You looked back into the studio, seeing Bob’s bright smile as he listened to Rooster play the piano. 

“You tell him… or I will.” 

You watched as he walked back towards the aviators, his long hair swishing as he walked. You sighed, running your hand over your forehead. You couldn’t tell Bob, not when things had just gotten better between the two of you. 

— — — 

You perked up from your spot on the bed when you heard the front door open, and the familiar footsteps of your lover. You quickly sat up from your spot and ran to the bathroom, gathering the remnants of the life-changing news and shoving them into your sock drawer. You closed the drawer just as Bob pushed the bedroom door open. 

“There you are!” Bob smiled walking over to you, “I was calling for you.” 

“Sorry,” You mumbled and walked over to kiss his cheek, “I didn’t hear you. How was work?” You asked him, walking out of the room, hoping to get as far away from the evidence as possible. Bob followed you as you went downstairs, discussing his day, which you had drowned out. The only thing you could hear was the blood rushing in your head. You moved on autopilot as you opened the fridge, grabbing a snack and a bottle of water. 

“Hey… you okay?” Bob asked, his hand gently on your shoulder. You softly pushed away from him, putting distance between you, “Y/N, you’re scaring me… what’s going on love?” 

“N-Nothing, Bob,” You said, shaking your head. You put a smile on your face as you tried to listen to Bob drone on about doing some hop with Javy and Fanboy. But nothing was distracting you from the sinking feeling in your stomach. 

You took in his features, committing them to memory as he spoke about how his day went. It was the small things like how he talked with his hands and how he had a vocabulary that was just so him, that made you fall in love in the first place. You were trying to block out the feeling of guilt rising in your stomach, his bright eyes and smile making you feel worse. 

Bob could read you like an open book. He could tell when something was wrong, whether you were upset or angry or didn’t feel good. That’s what came from years of spending time around you, getting to know you, and falling in love with you. Bob sometimes knew what you were feeling before you did. Bob could tell now that something was wrong. Your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes, you were looking anywhere but at him, and you were taking extra long sips of your water. Your body language was closed off, almost as if you didn’t want him to be around. 

“Okay, Y/N, cut the shit,” Bob said, startling you from your spaced-off look. 

“What?” You asked him. 

“You’ve ignored every single thing I have had to say since I walked through the door. I just asked you what you wanted for dinner and it’s like you couldn’t even hear me. There’s something you’re not telling me. So what is it?” Bob asked. 

Just like Bob, you could read him like an open book too. You could see in the way he clenched and unclenched his fists that he was getting angry. You swallowed harshly, taking in a deep breath. You knew you had let this go on long enough. The infidelity was one thing, this situation was another. 

You opened and closed your mouth a couple of times, before finding the words to say, “I’m pregnant.” 

Bob stumbled back for a second, shock taking over his body. He looked from your face to your belly and then back to your face a couple of times. His mind was running miles and miles per second, as if you had just spoken a foreign language to him. 

“What?” Bob asked, shocked, as he walked towards you. He gently held his shaky hands out to you, placing a hand softly on your belly. You closed your eyes and let tears fall down your cheeks. You lifted your head up, your face towards the ceiling, hoping he wouldn’t see. 

 “Baby! That’s amazing. I-I can’t believe it! I’m gonna be a dad?” Bob exclaimed, his bright smile finding his face again, “Why are you crying? What’s wrong?” 

“Bob, “ You said, sucking in a breath. You looked down at the ground, not being able to look him in the eye as you said barely above a whisper, “It’s not yours.” 

Bob felt like you had stabbed him, as he took a quick step back from you. You looked up at him, your heart breaking seeing the look on his face. He looked repulsed by you, completely disgusted. Bob let out a short breath and clenched his jaw. 

“Who’s?” He asked you. 

“Bob, I-” 

“Goddammit!” Bob yelled, sweeping everything off the kitchen counter, sending plates and mugs crashing to the ground. You jumped at the sound of the glass breaking, your hands quickly going to your stomach in defense, “Who’s fucking kid!?” 

“Jake’s…”

Bob shook his head in disbelief. He turned around, not wanting you to see the tears filling up in his eyes. Bob cleared his throat and wiped the tears away from his face, “Why?” He turned to face you, “Why wasn’t I enough!?” 

You flinched as he yelled at you, but you knew you deserved it. You deserved everything he was about to throw at you. Except, Bob didn’t yell at you. He didn’t get mad and punch a hole in the wall. He simply walked towards you, gently cupping your face in his hands. 

“If you think you’re going to get rid of me. . . You have another thing coming.” You sucked in a breath, looking into his eyes. They had turned a shade of dark blue you had never seen before, “You’re not leaving me. You will never, ever, leave me.”

taglist: @els-marvelvsp @sarahsmi13s @topgun-imagines @cassiemitchell @xoxabs88xox @seitmai @a-reader-and-a-writer @bradleybeachbabe @kmc1989 @senawashere @beautifulandvoid @ohtobeleah @rogersbarnesxx @oatmealisweird @dempy @devil-angel-winchester @gillybear17

[jadewritesficshere]

The boy is mine (Jade's edition)

Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie has a plan for a romantic night, but things go awry (2k words)

Contents: Anxiety, Eddie is self deprecating, hurt/comfort (kinda), no gendered terms for reader except mention that their hand is smaller then Eddie's and reader is called beautiful, a literal fire (please look up fire safety), fluff

A/N: So I saw this the first day it was posted and I thought it was a fun idea and saved the prompt by @carolmunson. I've been writing this for a bit,, but like I have had such bad mental fog and generalized pain recently I have been having a hard time focusing...I think I kind of misinterpreted the rules a bit...so here is sad lump of a contribution. Call me Stitch the way I am telling myself "it may be little and broken but still good".

18+ only

The night had started well, at least Eddie thought it had. He promised you a romantic night in. He even prepped for it.

Eddie rented sappy love movies, getting advice by Harrington and Buckley surprisingly. Harrington stated flowers were the way to go, but then started arguing with Buckley. While entertaining, Eddie learned more about the languages of romance from Buckley then he did about romantic gifts. But he wrote down to get flowers.

So he watched the movies. And Eddie was high paid a lot of attention and basically learned to make a grand speech. Big pour out your heart moment. Which, he felt he always talked your ear off, so he could totally do.

Eddie then read those magazines all the cheerleaders gossiped and giggled over. He didn't learn much except some tips for the best kiss. Cup the person's cheek and lean in slowly. Build the suspense. Eddie could do that.

Give you flowers. Make a speech. Cup your cheek as he kisses you. Eddie had this in the bag! Each point written in his little notebook.

And then the reality of you coming to his trailer hit him when you called to confirm the date was still on that morning. He hung up the phone after flirting a bit and looked around his house. Nerves flooded his system as he looked at it with the perspective of an outsider. He didn't want it to look bad. And it was, well, it wasn't bad but definitely could be cleaner.

So Eddie had vacuumed and dusted the entire trailer. Tossed empty pizza boxes in the trash. Sprayed some cologne around the trailer to cover the scent of weed, then cursed himself for using the expensive cologne when there was a bottle of air freshener in the bathroom.

Had picked up his clothes scattered across his room and shoved them all, clean and dirty, into the closet. Had made sure his bed had more then one pillow, grabbing spare throw pillows and tossing them towards the headboard. Even if he didn't think there was a chance you would enter his bedroom tonight, he wanted to be prepared.

Eddie had even started dinner before you arrived. An easy roast that Wayne had made hundreds of times. Thrown meat, potatoes, onions, and carrots into the pot, seasoned it and thrown it all in the oven.

It was newer, this thing between you, and he wanted to get it all right. You'd been friends for years, just recently evolved into dating. It was easy to hold your hand and throw an arm around your shoulder before, stealing those small intimate moments and pretending it meant something more. But now it does mean more. Truly, it always had, but neither of you had said anything. Because like usual, Eddie was the coward and ran.

He spent what felt like minutes (it had been hours) looking back at the notes, the plan. He had even sketched some pictures of you and him as he studied. Gave himself some sweet new tattoos and piercings and muscles while you had hearts around your head. By the time he stopped rereading the same points over and over again, he realized you would be there within the hour.

And he already failed the first point, flowers. It had completely spaced him what with the studying, but he had other things he had been wanting to give you so he figured he could wing it. He rehearsed everything in his mind, having various conversations with you. He would take your coat, be charming as ever, and you would fall for him even more then you already had.

But the plan immediately left his mind when you had arrived. Eddie could feel his face flush as his eyes trailed up and down your figure. All the rushing thoughts in his head suddenly stopped. All he could think was Damn, how'd I get so lucky?

"You're beautiful." Eddie mumbled in awe as you had shrugged off your coat. And then you smiled and Eddie realized he had messed up the plan. He thought he had went through every variable but he hadn't. It wasn't you that was going to fall more in love with him tonight, but Eddie was going to fall more in love with you.

Eddie twirled a piece of hair around his finger, unable to meet your eyes. His heart was beating wildly in his chest and his palms were begin to sweat. He couldn't help but shift from foot to foot. "Oh I uh....got you something," Eddie smiled and turned to leave before hesitating and motioning to the couch," You can uh sit...or stand, standing is good too! I'll be right back."

Eddie cursed himself the whole time he walked away because of how stupid he was. He could stage elaborate campaigns but couldn't seem to form a single sentence in your presence. Eddie grabbed the gift off his dresser and inhaled slowly, mentally yelling at himself to be cool for once in his life.

And faltered in his steps.

Because you were sat on the couch. Not just on the edge of the cushion like those who he dealt to who couldn't wait to get out of his presence. No, you were fully relaxed into the cushion. You looked comfortable. You looked like you belonged.

And Eddie couldn't squash the butterflies that took flight in his stomach. And he sat on the cushion next to you, fighting the urge to wrap you in his arms and hold you close.

"I got you this," Eddie declared as he handed you a rock. A small, smooth stone that fit in the palm of your hand. Your mouth parted but no words came out. Eddie bit his lip as you slowly turned the stone over in your hands, staring at it.

"I saw it and I thought, well, I thought of you and it matches your eyes and-" Eddie huffed out a laugh and shook his head," Sorry, it's stupid just give it back."

Eddie moved to grab it out of your hand but you slapped at his arm and clenched the stone in your hand. "No, it's mine!" You held your hand to your chest and glared at him. "It's stupid," Eddie looked down. "It is not." "It is!"

"Are you serious? If you don't stop we're gonna have a problem. This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me." You beamed at him. Joy and adoration written clearly across your face. Eddie slowly grinned back as you dared to open your palm and look at the stone again. "My precious," you wiggled your eyebrows at him, making him bark out a laugh as he relaxed.

"Let's save a ring for a later date." He joked, even as his mind raced. You quoted Lord of the Rings! You were sitting on his couch holding a rock he thought was the same shade as your eyes and you liked it!! He was done for. Completely head over heels fallen for you. Said he would never marry yet here he was planning his vows and everything.

"Seriously, Eddie, this is so sweet." Your hand grasped his. Your hand was smaller then his, fitting perfectly. Fingers interlocked hesitantly and then more surely. Eddie's eyes fell to your lips. Your tongue darted out slightly and wet them. And he started to lean in.

The air was thick, and not just with the tension, the anticipation. Your lips were milliseconds to coming in contact with his when Eddie's nose twitched as he caught a familiar scent. Your lips landed on Eddie's cheek as he turned so quickly to face the kitchen he gave himself whiplash.

Thick smoke started to waft out of the room. "Oh fuck!" He jumped up as the smoke detector finally started doing its job and screeched out an annoying beep. Eddie ran into the kitchen with you hot on his heels.

Eddie opened the oven door, smoke billowing out," SHITshitshit-" Eddie cursed as he slammed the door shut, coughing slightly. Your hand reached past him to shut off the oven before darting over to the window and throwing it open.

Eddie's eyes darted to the sink below the window. Stop, drop, and roll- wait no that was if you were on fire. But water beats fire in almost every scenario, right? Except oil, shit did he add oil? No, he didn't add anything except the food and the seasoning so it should all be good right?

"Stand back!" Eddie yells over the screeching alarm. Grabbing the pot holders, he throws the oven door open. Smoke billows past him as he makes a mad dash for the pot, grasping the handles and throwing it in the sink. He throws the faucet on, water pouring over the burnt food and pot.

Steam billows up with smoke, mingling in the air before flowing out the window. A hissing sound from the cool water hitting the hot pot fills the air. You fan the flames towards the open window. "Oh fuck." You cough as your eyes fill with tears from the smoke. Eddie winces as flurried apologies fall from his lips.

The pot, not on fire at least, starts to lessen up on producing smoke. Eddie deems it safe to leave and grabs your hand, dragging you outside. His hands on your shoulders guide you to sit on the steps as you continue to intermittently cough. Eddie rushes back into the kitchen, double checking that the oven was off, and quickly grabs a mug holding it under the still running faucet.

Eddie rushes back outside to you, almost missing the step and face planting. And wouldn't that have been the icing on the cake. Would that make Eddie or the embarrassment of faceplanting be the vanilla frosting? Who even created that saying? Cake was good and this was not good. Eddie shook his head of these thoughts as he sank down on the step next to you.

Eddie hands you the mug of water. You drink it in big gulps, a small dribble of water falling out of the side of your mouth towards your chin. Eddie wipes it away with his thumb as he apologizes," I am so sorry, I don't even know what happened."

"Is this Garfield?" You peer at the mug, as if Eddie almost didn't kill you. "Uh yeah, was in a rush, sorry I didn't grab like a nicer cup. I just ran out...to you..." "Don't apologize, I like Garfield," you mumble taking another drink of the water.

"Are you okay?" Eddie asks, hands running up and down your shoulders, eyes checking you over. "Think I hacked up a lung from all the smoke...," you rub your sternum," Man, my lungs do not like smoke...and you like that?" Eddie let out a nervous laugh," Yeah no sorry, only when its weed. Never really inhaled a straight fire before."

You look up into Eddie's eyes that are full of concern. "Well, I'd recommend like not doing that. But I'm okay, it startled me more then anything," You give a soft smile. "You sure?" "Positive." You knock his shoulder with yours.

Eddie's eyes search your figure, ensuring you aren't lying to him. You ignore him, opting to set the mug down on the ground. Fingers brushing against a dandelion, yellow and bright. You pluck it from the ground and twirl it between your fingers.

You're okay. You're holding a dandelion and you're okay. You aren't acting like you hate him. You aren't making excuses and leaving. You aren't leaving like everyone else-

Eddie's shoulders relax as the tension leaves his body. You're okay. Your relationship is okay. He didn't ruin everything. You're smiling at a fucking dandelion while his heart feels like it has run a marathon.

You're oblivious to his plight as you lean over and tuck the dandelion behind his ear," Maybe don't smoke that. Looks pretty on you." "Not that kind of weed." "Yeah dumb joke sorry."

A slow exhale escapes him as he shakes his head,"No it's good I'm just," Eddie waves his hand in front of him," like what the fuck just happened? I am never cooking again. I'll just take you to Enzo's. I fucked up. Sorry for ruining the date."

Your hand cupped his cheek as you ducked down to meet his eyes," Hey, no. You didn't ruin the date." Eddie rolls his eyes slightly," Almost killing you? Yeah, pretty sure i ruined it." You bump your knee against Eddie's, "it's not ruined and you didn't almost kill me. Small food fire, happens to everyone. I lit popcorn on fire once. Besides, if you did happen to kill me, at least I would have died happy and in love. And you'd be stuck with me cause ghost me is absolutely haunting you."

Eddie can't help but laugh slightly," Oh? You think you'd be a ghost and not get another chance at life? Be reincarnated or whatever?" "Well, even if I was reincarnated, I'd find you again."

Eddie scoffs, "C'mon, don't say that.. That's not even true, you'd totally be able to move on. You wouldn't need little old me." You grab his face and peer into his eyes," Eddie Munson, I will always need you. In this life and whatever happens after. You and me? We're it. Maybe it should be too soon to say, but I feel it in my bones. You're it for me Eddie. Together now, forever, and when everything ceases to exist we'll be in nothing together. I will always be with you because I will always love you."

You lean in and Eddie thinks his heart stops. Your hand holding his cheek in place, thumb lightly brushing back and forth. His eyes flutter shut as your lips finally touch his. It was soft and sweet, lips slowly parting and melding together in a dance that sent shivers down Eddie's spine. He sighed into the kiss as you leaned closer into each other. Your hands threading through his hair, his wrapping around your waist. Lips moving in tandem, tongues darting out tentatively.

You only part when you both are gasping for air. Soft smiles and longing glances shared as the sun sets. "I love you too." Eddie traces your cheekbone with his finger. "You better." You joke. Your combined giggles fill the air as you continue to steal kisses from each other.

The night may not have been the most romantic. Or gone to plan, like, at all. But it was one Eddie already knew that when he thought about he would be able to feel his heart swell with love. And as he kissed you Eddie thought, yeah you were it for him.

[jefferkyleson]

As a Jew who has recently been undergoing an identity crisis about my Judaism due to my father's passing and the conflict in Israel and Palestine, I just want to say, try to assume good in people.

First of all, genocide is horrible and what the Israeli government is doing is reprehensible. I will not indulge in a both sides argument. The numbers of civilians deaths speak for themselves.

Real quick, let me tell you a story. My father was Jewish. He grew up in a rural town in America. You can imagine how that went. Day after day he was belittled and beaten. He was mostly known as "Jew" and would often be called that followed by a swift punch to the gut.

As he got older, things didn't get much better. In High School, he and his friend were in the same class. He got a B, she got an A. They both knew each other well and knew he got better scores, so they went to the teacher for clarification. The teacher had a simple response. "You're the Jewish kid, right?" he said. My dad responded, "Yeah?" "That's all I need," he said. If he wasn't Jewish, he probably would've had straight A's.

Throughout his career, again, little changed. Dog whistles and insults and fear were thrown around wherever he went. And after he had me, that fear only grew. Of course it did. You would do anything to protect your child and you fear whatever the world may do to hurt them.

Now, only 8 years ago, he had to watch a man become president who was being openly supported by nazis. He had to watch people march in the street and chant "Jews will not replace us!" He had to watch as some of the last holocaust survivors started to die out and he had to watch as the neo-nazis grew louder and bolder.

To drive my point home, I've only ever seen this man cry once. It was when he watched Schindler's List with me in the room.

So when my father spoke about supporting Israel, I was confused. "How could he stand for genocide?" "How could he support colonialism?" "Is everything he taught me about the middle east a lie?"

But I knew my father well.

He did not support genocide. He has always stood for equality and peace. He did not support colonialism. At home, he has helped support native populations in every way his job allowed. He knew a lot about the middle east. He had a PhD and had bookshelves of history books.

I think deep down, Judaism can often be tied to fear. When you look at Jewish history, it's hard to notice anything but enslavement and genocide. When you live a Jewish life, it's hard to notice anything but fear and hate.

All he wanted was for Jews everywhere to be safe. All he wanted was for me to be safe. All he wanted was to be safe. So when he stood with Israel, he still did not support the genocide. But he grew up in fear and hoped that Israel could one day become a peaceful place where Jews could be safe.

Did I agree with him on everything? No. He would always jokingly call me a Commie. We did not agree on the situation on Israel. But I knew him. I understood where he was coming from. I understood what he meant and what he was truly fighting for. He wanted a world where everyone could be safe. He personally felt that Jews could be safe in Israel and lived a life that made him feel like we couldn't be safe anywhere else. He also felt that Israel's actions were wrong and that Israel needed to undergo a lot of changes so that the middle east could be safe for everyone. He did not support genocide, he did not support Israel's current actions, but he still supported Israel. And you know what, maybe with more time, he would've condemned Israel entirely, but when he passed, he still supported Israel, and the least I can do is understand where he was coming from.

This has gotten pretty long-winded, but what I'm trying to say is, look at who people truly are. When my dad grew up, "Zionist" was often code for "Jew" and "From the River to the Sea" may as well have been saying "Jews will not replace us." But when I see the people calling for an end to genocide, I believe that is what they are fighting for. When I see Jewish organizations, politicians, teachers, rabbis, and kids on splatoon saying "From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free," I truly believe they are against genocide and are advocating for freedom, equality, and peace. And when I see celebrities and Jewish organizations and my dad supporting Israel, I truly believe they are against genocide and are advocating for freedom, equality, and peace. And when I think of the millions of people in the middle east, I know the vast majority of them just want to live lives of freedom, equality, and peace.

Now don't get me wrong. Again, I'm not trying to make a both sides argument. I personally believe that what Israel is doing is wrong and the bloodshed needs to stop immediately.

I also know that there is going to be the occasional douchebag who hides behind rhetoric in order to be hateful. I also know this situation is extremely complicated with history and experiences going back for thousands of years. I also know people have things they need to learn and things they need to unlearn and that process might take more than a week.

But before we go firing and censuring and yelling at other people, all I ask is, look at who they really are, what they are really trying to say, where they are coming from, be patient and understanding with them, and try to assume they are coming from a place of good before you assume they are coming from a place of hate.

[oletus-manors-log]

Hey! I just wanted to say I love your work and your recent Orpheus drabble was super good! I was wondering if you could do a short story about Orpheus confessing to the survivor!reader? (GN) I understand that short story’s might take longer then headcanons and dabbles, so please take as much time as you need! Thanks again 🫶

OBSERVER'S NOTE :

“ Hello, and thank you so much for the compliment for my recent work on Orpheus! As for the confession, I believe I can make it work with the headcannons I have listed in the past.

I'm not too sure if there's anything else you'd like for me to add with the story, so I decided to make it happen in a... Special match. Although it can be a terrible place to confess... Well, sometimes it can work out in your favor. ”

Golden Hour

The match, needless to say, was a mess.

Orpheus couldn't tell whether he regretted having to come in because he's up against himself (or, really, what he sees himself as), or the fact that he's seeing the slow descent of the match after the first 60 second chair.

As he saw the raven bird chase after the enchantress and with the journalist on her second chair, he stuck to decoding in wedding hall. The pallets were thrown in advance by him, so it would make things easier.

Since the progress wasn't done before he arrived, he had done quick work on decoding it. Although, he didn't seem to notice when someone else joined him during the halfway mark of the cipher, one cipher actually done and Alice rescued off of it.

"Seems like you're struggling over there, aren't you?"

He flinched and looked over towards the speaker, noticing that it was Alice. Ah, she was patched up— good, that means that someone rescued her.

"Perhaps," he said idly, focusing his attention on the cipher machine before it malfunctioned and electrocuted him. "But it isn't like miss Dorval is struggling against him. She's been kiting for us and you're on your last legs after being chaired twice."

Alice shakes her head as she turned the knobs of the machine.

"I'll be fine. I'll just have to stay out of sight for the time being— it can't be that hard, can't it?"

... Hm, she only has one film left, he noted, sparing a glance at the camera. She will have to make sure he doesn't catch her— her mirages of me when I was younger is... Quite a feat. It could keep him distracted if such a miracle can happen.

[ Beware! The hunter has changed target! ]

The two looked up as a crow flies over to their cipher. Orpheus shoves Alice off of it so it would fly over to the novelist, sprinting like a madman to the pallet to vault and start running out.

"Keep decoding!"

He ran straight to the church, feeling smoke permeate the air as it swirled and manifested behind him. The sound of a deafening thud echoed as Nightmare, their hunter of the match, appeared behind him, causing him to falter if not for the reminder that he would be killed if he stayed standing.

"I did not expect for you to take it instead of miss DeRoss, Orpheus," spoke the nightmarish entity as it chased him, footsteps thundering as the novelist sprinted to the window to vault. "Why? Are you trying to relive the feeling of a good chase from the past?"

Truly, he fits the name and title for himself— Nightmare, the novelist thought bitterly. It's almost like he was "invited" to haunt the poor novelist even in (metaphorically, of course) death.

"I believe we both know why. I don't wish for her to die in this match after you targeted her."

"Hm? But why not? It's quite... Amusing, is it not?" He scoffed, his gaze focused on him as the novelist continued to keep distance, making sure to break out of line of sight from the latter so he can't focus on him. "For her to take your place after she was grown, after you went missing—"

"I don't want to be reminded of that incident."

"Oh, I know that. But you'd know better than for me to let it go, would you?"

Ah, he should have known. Why the hell would he let it go, hm?

Instead of replying, he went through a pallet— this time, passing by someone he didn't expect.

SLAM!

"Go!"

He felt the wind push him as he turned to see a certain survivor stunning the looming hunter, attire ragged despite wearing it for God knows how long. He could only whisper a "good luck" as he sprinted to the window, vaulting over it before running off.

The only thing he could hear from outside of the church was the aggravated yell of Nightmare, followed by daring taunts that he could recognize all too well.

... You never change, do you? Ever the daredevil, he thought with a chuckle, this time sprinting to another cipher to decode.

Despite the mishaps from before, Orpheus could see that it proceeded as smoothly as it possibly could, considering the bird had his sights on you and not the novelist. Unfortunately for Nightmare, you were one of the few that never saw danger as one to be feared.

In the survivor faction, you were a force to be reckoned with; someone with such a job that can spell trouble to those whose never heard of it.

Your occupation was of a trickster, one assigned like the Acrobat and the Weeping Clown if it weren't for your malicious streak. Reckoned by many hunters as a "hunter in a survivor's body", you were called by many as a horseman of chaos, bringing about destruction in your wake.

So far, only few had managed to keep you down, but even the novelist knew you would find a way to make them regret their misdeeds.

Truthfully. Orpheus feared you. Unlike him, you saw danger akin to a pet, and not once did he understood what makes you tick. But perhaps, much like your occupation, you live your life in constant terror.

The way your eyes gleam as you evade Nightmare's attacks was one of such cases, and he couldn't help but fathom on how you look so... Alive.

... So free.

Alas, it had been the last cipher and he had it primed. Nightmare had already chaired you once, but by some miracle, Alice had got you out of the chair and you were kiting the man like your life depended on it. And, well, it did— you were keeping Alice from being chaired the third time as both of you were injured.

But it didn't last long when he saw the crow fly over to his cipher, and he could hear the ping from you and Alice that he's switching targets.

Back to me, I suppose.

Pulling away from the cipher, he pinged that it was primed and started sprinting, hearing the wind pull itself and manifest the living terror in his waking life. To him, he saw the man as one of monstrosity, whereas most cannot see it that way. It terrified him that only a few, such as him, can see the raven for what he is.

Swiftly getting hit with the sharp tip, he stumbled from the window he was about to vault, causing yet another deep gash to form on his back. He gritted in pain as he felt blood seep through and taint his white coat, coating it in crimson.

—And then, the two could hear the deafening pop.

Thus, the sirens follow, and mark the 'endgame' of their match.

With the sudden boost of adrenaline, he sped off, his legs screaming as he heard Nightmare's ghoulish calls. Still, he paid no heed as he looked back, constantly pinging the rest of his team of Nightmare's ventures.

Detention... A trait that no man or monster understood. Miss Nightingale briefed everyone on it when they first came here, and he still recall what she told to their group.

Detention is a trait that every hunter possesses— a trait that, when activated, causes the hunter to give into the carnal desires to kill any survivor in its wake.

No one understood how to counter it. If anything, all they can do was run. Run until they were sure that it was safe.

For those who do not will be slaughtered in its wake.

Reaching the open gates, he could hear your calls as you yelled for him to get out— that you would cover for him.

His eyes widened at this. At the state of Nightmare and with Detention of all things, the last thing he'd want is for you to be slaughtered instead of him.

He cannot have that. He won't have that. Over his dead corpse.

"No!" he yelled, yanking your wrist when you went back to bodyblock for him, pulling you forward with such strength that many do not think he would have the capability to posses. "Go! Get out, now!"

With one last curse to have Nightmare go through such pain, you and the others got out, leaving the deserted church and the cries of Nightmare in the wake of a survivor's win.

After the stressful match, he had to go to Emily as he was still injured from Nightmare. Despite the adrenaline for when the last cipher was popped, he felt the fatigue crash on him hard after they had left, and he didn't want to deal with Emily getting (justifiably) upset at his own recklessness.

Although, there was another reason on why he had to go to Emily. It was for something else... Something that he wanted to speak to her about. Alone.

"... I see," Emily murmured, currently patching up Orpheus's back with a few stitches. Checking for other injuries, she sighed, facing the novelist with a knowing look in her eye.

"I don't wish to undermine your efforts, Orpheus, but they're... Well, they live up to their occupation. Are you sure you'd want to look for them? Even I'm not sure on where they have went off to this time."

Orpheus chuckled, giving her a smile as he answered, "I'm sure. I believe I know my limits, miss Dyer. After all, I have dealt with them the longest, have I not?"

You were... A mystery to him. Something that needed to be solved. Despite how long you and him were, in the lack of terms, friends... He never really knew the answer for his question since he's known you.

Just what it is that makes you so interesting to him?

"I suppose you'd be right on that," Emily replied, shaking her head as she wrapped the bandages around his waist. "Well, I believe they went to Moonlit River Park. I tried to ask why, but all they said was that they have a show to prepare and didn't want to be late."

Tying it off right afterwards, she dug through her pockets and handed Orpheus a note. The paper was yellow and worn, but he could recognize the handwriting peeking out... Couple with a few scribbles. You were always fond of drawing in your notes, he noticed.

"Here," she said, smiling exasperatedly. "They also wanted me to give you this. Now, don't strain yourself too much, okay?"

With a nod, the brunette took the note and bid his goodbyes to the doctor, leaving the clinic. He walked down the hall, opening the note that she gave him to see what you wrote for him.

In the note, it reads...

Hello, hello, mister novelist! Surprised to get a note from yours truly, are you? ☆

Now, now... I know you must be wondering where I went! And you know me well by now, Orpheus— I am not one to give such a straight answer. Why, if I am, I'd certainly lose the title of being a 'trickster', wouldn't I?

Anyway, I'd like to play a... Game with you. How does hide and seek sound? It'd be like those we play in matches. Ah, but with less killing, of course.

I want you to find me. The doctor already told me where I am, so I implore you, Orpheus—

"—find me, and find the piece I seek."

... A peculiar note indeed.

Now, he was no detective. Unlike Alice, he never dabbled quite well into detective work; he used to do that if he needed first hand experience on writing a thriller book. However, with the manor hosting various events that does consist of solving mysteries...

Well. He cannot say that he didn't have experience on dealing with them in his downtime.

Checking the back of the note, he raised an eyebrow at the sight of the note. From an unobservant eye, they'd chalk it off as something normal. But to him, he knew you enough to have something hidden in an ordinary object.

Raising up the note against the light, he hummed at the sight, reading the note more clearly.

Big tent.

...

How cheeky.

Rolling his eyes out of amusement, he lowered the note and trudged on to Moonlit River Park. This time... He has a date, and he isn't going to be late.

Arriving at the big tent of Moonlit River Park, he can see the sight of the thrown pallets around and some abandoned attractions on stage. The basement was sealed, so he assumed that it would be open on the two story building.

What was it? Hullabaloo? He should to check the name again when he sees it.

Walking on the stairs of the stage, he inspected the entire tent, noticing the sight of a note plastered on the wall. It was the same as the letter he retrieved from Emily, so he had no hesitation to take it.

Checking the front of the note, he red through what you wrote this time.

If you found this note, then I was right to put my faith in you, Orpheus. You know my tricks enough to figure out where my note was lying about, huh? Maybe I should up the ante of this game of ours...

Haha! I'm kidding, of course. Why would I? It'd be terrible if your 2nd hint is in a place you can't find so easily.

Anyway, to find where it is, the answer is what you're reading. If you're confused or, mayhaps, lost... Read it again. You'll see what I mean.

... See? What in the world...

His brows furrowed as he red through the note again. There was something in those words, and if he can take your statement for what it is...

...

Rereading through it again, he can see a pattern. From your writing, it was hard to tell, but there were letters that are emphasized more than others.

... I'm at 2nd stop. Hah, how cheeky of you.

Tucking the note away, he left the stage and raised one of the flaps, running out of it. The faint chime of the circus music echoed around the map, haunting yet nostalgic for those that have witnessed its glory. For Orpheus, though, that brought some... Awful memories of his losses there.

... Ah, he can't be reminiscing now. He needn't remember what happened in one of his visits here.

Reaching the other side of the large map, he could see a bird perched up on the rails, perking up to see the novelist arriving by the stairs. With a chirp, the blue bird flew to him, its claws carrying another letter.

Whispering a 'thanks' to the bird, he watched it fly off before opening the third letter in his hands.

Moonlit River Park is a beautiful place, isn't it? Regardless of what many may think, the circus holds a special place in my heart. Such a shame that the tragedy has ruined it for what it's worth...

... Such is beauty, I suppose. The manor holds such unique yet curious people, just like you.

Where am I going with this? Hm, good question. I wish I have the answer to that, but I'm not sure if I have one. After all, I lack the voice to speak of such a thing, or to answer your inquiries.

Now, if you wish to look for where I really am, you'd know where to find me this time.

Why, I can see you now, little novelist. Look over to your left.

Look ove—

"Boo."

Orpheus could feel his heart give out for a moment, his head whipping to see you peering over him with a cheeky grin. Seeing the look of fear in his face, you couldn't help but laugh, your voice ringing in the air of the abandoned park.

"Ahaha! You should've seen the look on your face, Orphy," you said, amusement ringing in your voice. Jabbing him lightly, you snickered, "Perhaps I should subject you more to such simple mysteries. I'm surprised you manage to get through them!"

Orpheus scoffed. Despite your streak, he swore that you were but a child to someone like him.

"Hmph, and you should know that I have a weak heart. Not everyone can keep a straight face when they're snuck up from behind."

"Yes, yes," you drawled, patting his shoulder. "I suppose that's true. I'll spare you the... Worse I can bring, then."

... Just for me? How kind, he thought, but he didn't voice that out to you in fear of being seen as ungrateful.

"That aside, do you need me for something, [Name]?" he asked, finally facing you, raising an eyebrow at your demeanor. "Forgive me for saying this, but you never reach out to me first other than to cause mischief."

"Oh! Right, about that..."

You paused, your head turning slightly to the side. With a sheepish laugh, you continued, "I just... Wanted to bring you here. I remember you telling me that you never got to see the park when it wasn't used for matches— well, not without Memory, but that's understandable— so-"

Ah... So that's why.

...

Despite your behavior, you have a kind heart.

That is one thing he cannot deny that he liked about you. You may have a sadistic streak, but your kindness will always shine through it.

"... And I thought of getting Antonio as well, because he was planning to perform, and—"

"[Name]," he said, cutting you off. You perked up at him, humming to let him know you were listening. Orpheus couldn't help but let a chuckle slip, giving you a smile that was different from his usual poker face.

This one was more of sincerity— an emotion rarely seen of the novelist.

"Thank you," he continued, his eyes closing for a bit as he let out a soft laugh. "But please, you don't need to do this much for me. If anything, just being here with you is enough."

Before he can stop himself, he reached out to grab your hand, fingers interlocking with yours.

"... If I'm being honest, I am not a man seeking of such lavish and desire simplicity. However, since meeting you, you showed me just how adding a bit of uniqueness and extravagance can make things more memorable."

He could see your eyes widen at his confession, but he continued, as if he didn't wish to stop.

"Truly, I must blame you for claiming my heart as your own— you do it so effortlessly, it feels more like you've know how to weave me into your tales. However, as unfortunate for some, I don't think I'll be able to blame you for stealing it."

Tightening his grip, he reached out and grasped your cheek— watching as you relaxed on his hold.

"Not when I'm about to do a crime of my own, little trickster."

Under the guise of the sundown, the rays begin to emit such a glow that can make things more enchanting to the observant eye.

And a kiss was sealed, the untold confession of the novelist marked in the midst of golden hour.

© ᴏʟᴇᴛᴜs-ᴍᴀɴᴏʀs-ʟᴏɢ | 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟹 ✧ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛs ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀʟʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ, ʙᴜᴛ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀʀᴇ | ᴀʀᴛ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢs ᴛᴏ ʀɪɢʜᴛғᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀs

[strangelittlestories]

There was a great palaver in the town of Leamington Spa when it was discovered that the mysterious Mr Meles would take over the empty Familiaris estate.

Mr Meles was a figure of great speculation amongst society. Only three things were known about him (four if you count ‘being an enigma’ as a known quantity and do not mind the sophists getting angry with you): 

Firstly, he was in the possession of an income of over £10,000 a year. Secondly, he was a bachelor and extraordinarily eligible. Thirdly, he had a very handsome badger stripe.

(By which I mean, of course, that he was a badger and that the stripe on his forehead was very fine.)

The Sheppertons - a local family of weasels - discussed Mr Meles’ arrival over breakfast.

“If you ask me, the arrival of such a *character* is sure to bring nothing but acrimony.” Said Mrs Muriel Shepperton, as she truly ravaged a plate of kippers between her fangs. “You mark my words, children, only two kinds of people attempt to cultivate an air of mystery: those with terrible secrets the likes of which would shake polite company to the very core and leave us questioning the very values that shaped us, or worse, the terminally dull.”

“Oh, I do so hope Mr Meles won’t be dull.” Said Mr Edward Shepperton, who was already somewhat in love with the idea of Mr Meles and increasingly determined that one of his daughters should marry him. “Let him have something dreadful to hide instead. It will certainly enliven the season to have everything I’ve ever known thrown into question!”

“I’ve heard,” said Miss Angelica Shepperton, who could chase down a rumour with only a whiff of its scent across two miles of uncertain terrain, “That Mr Meles has only recently come to live above ground at all, and that he has been a member of the Excavationists who believe we should all go back to living in holes underground.”

“Oh my!” Replied Mr Shepperton in some alarm. “I heard they had a plan to collapse the entirety of Buckingham Palace into a sinkhole!”

“Well I, for one, simply cannot believe that a dangerous radical of that sort could ever come to live in our town.” Replied Miss Vermillion Shepperton. “Indeed, until proven otherwise, I shall choose to believe Mr Meles to be a true gentleman of utmost honour. I refuse to countenance that he could be a member of that … sett.”

But despite her clever pun, Miss Vermillion would soon find out just how wrong she was about the safety and genteel nature of Leamington Spa…

---

Thank you for reading, if you would like to support my writing you can do so at https://ko-fi.com/strangelittlestories

[x-authorship-x]

I didn't know i was capable of missing a fictional character until i found out about Shisui anyways

You ever just think about the chaos that would happen if adult! Shisui (around the current time of hope au) and kid! Shisui (just recently started working with Inoichi) got temporarily swapped in their times?

Like the squad goofing off only for one of Raidou's practice seals going off wrong and suddenly a very awkward group of anbu find themselves having to take care of little kid Shisui who is tiny, recently traumatized, doesn't technically know or trust them, and has yet to truly be properly socialized outside of his clan and then on the other side you have adult Shisui being thrown back to a time Danzo is still around without any of his friends/family/allies and having an unknown, limited time frame to try and change things

I've only just seen this ask (😅) but omg

Older!Shisui would only be a few years younger than Inoichi so that would be deeply hilarious because Inoichi has only just started to realise that he's gotta actually, you know, commit to being healthier and being a stable adult role model (parent) and then BAM! This full grown Uchiha, claiming to be his student, starts ripping into Konoha and dragging Inoichi along like he's not insane???? An Uchiha who knows waaaaay too much about Inoichi's Clan secrets and his horribly complicated relationship with his family and (Inoichi, in the future, fit very well with the "boiled frog" analogy. He didn't quite realise, until in hindsight, how deep into the bullshit Shisui had dragged him as they grew together. It's, ah, a shock😂) also lmao Minato is still alive, so is Kushina, Kakashi is a moody little shit and he's so unbelievably angry that this cheerful random Uchiha came up to him and scuffed him like a (naughty puppy) seasoned Hatake 😂

MEANWHILE-

Genma, drunk off his tits, slams his hand down on Raidou's notebook before throwing it at a laughing Shisui's head: and then, hahahaha, I said- OH SHIT!

Genin!Shisui, appearing in a poof of smoke to find himself in the middle of a bar at 1am:

Squad Two: DID YOU JUST SHRINK?? I DIDNT KNOW UCHIHA COULD DO THAT-! (Raidou: 🤡💩, Genma: 🤩🤣, Tenzo: 😧😶‍🌫️, Kakashi: 🥴📸)

Genin!Shisui: w-where is Inoichi-sensei?! We're on a mission, Jounin-san, what happened???

SQ2: oh shit, GET AN ADULT

Inoichi, upon seeing Genin!Shisui: 😭✨😭✨ oh fuck i forgot how cute you were, cmere and let me cuddle you oh god I can't believe I didn't tell you I loved you for too long and look at your little feet and you can't even carry Akira yet can you oh god- *clutching Shisui to his chest*

Ino, the same age but an inch taller than her nii-san: ✨MY✨TURN✨TO✨BE✨IN✨CHARGE✨

Genin!Shisui: everyone got really tall and really emotional...

[kuromiiyuuu]

Hiii! I just found your blog and i love your writing so much! Esp the atsumu fic! I'm sucker with that kind of trope!❤

I see that your request are open so if u don't mind, may i request ex to lovers with atsumu x f!reader where's he is the one who initiated to broke up with the reader but the reader doesn't want it but he still left and after some times he regrets it a lot and try to get back? But reader thinks he just pitying her and feel bad for leaving her and one day he will leave again knowing he really looks like he didn't love her anymore when they broke up. It makes his heart ache knowing that he really hurt her so bad but then he promises to make it up and proving that her assumptions are wrong before she really accept him again. Literally just really angst to fluff where atsumu showing his effort and love to gaining her trust again hehe. Im sorry if this is doesn't make sense and too detailed:( i read a lot of break up angst recently so im craving for some comfort huhu but of course you can ignore this if you don't take detailed request!❤ i hope you have a nice day/night, thankyou so much!!❤

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･“I would never fall unless it’s you I fall into.”

—After he claims he had lost his love for you, he leaves, even if you asked him to stay. But what if he shows up after months of healing to ask for a second chance to fix everything he destroyed?

atsumu miya, (f).

genres, tropes, warnings + word count. angst to fluff! | ex boyfriend! ex girlfriend! | not proof read ! | 3.9k! |

notes i. first request and I love it already, also thank you for your kind words🥺💓

You can feel it, his every actions has changed. He spoke to you as if you had no feelings, his eyes looked at you like a mere someone not his someone, just someone. His longing touches became blank and cold.

He was losing his feelings for you, any sane person can tell it. He was no longer the bright Atsumu you first met back then, the apartment you both shared together has gotten dull and dark, you can never get used to this.

But you loved him, with all your heart. He was the first man to ever show you were worth for something, you don’t ever want this relationship to end because you knew this was still capable of saving, and you were ready to risk anything to save it. You could never meet a man great as Atsumu, he made you feel things no other person could do.

They say, things ends for a reason. And maybe this is it, but what ever reason it was, ending things with Atsumu will never have a reason valid to you. 

“I’m sorry, I truly am— but I don’t feel the same way anymore, and it hurts me to see you still tolerating me. You deserve better, Y/n.” The blonde says, hanging his head down in shame as he clutches his jacket in his hands.

You looked at him, were you hurt? Were you in pain? Both, tears falls down across your cheek and you can’t stop it. It hurts you to see your relationship being at the edge of ending things:

“Please don’t leave me, Tsumu. We can fix this, we always fix this.” You refused, shaking your head as you tried to step closer to him but he seemingly backs away, he finally looks up and his eyes were dry as ever.

It was like you were the only one hurting.

“I... I don’t know how to love you anymore.” He confesses, the way he speaks was soft but the words he threw your way was like a piece of hard rock thrown your way.

You took a step towards him again and he thankfully didn’t back away, he thought it was going to be the last time with you, why not let you be? He can’t admit it not yet when he already said those things that he was hurting too.

You bring your hand to cup his cheeks, your eyes released a a large volume of tears. You can’t help it, something you cherished was about to end.

“I see forever with you.” Atsumu says with a laugh at the end of his sentence, his eyes looking at you with admiration.

“That’s cliché, Tsumu.” You joked, your eyes changed shapes as you smiled ear to ear.

“You said it yourself, you saw forever when you were with me.” You denied it all, no nothing can end not when you have so much to offer to him.

“Sometimes forever, doesn’t necessarily mean forever.” He says, his voice low and slowly breaking apart, “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.”

He then slowly removes your hands from your face as you sobbed.

“I don’t want you to leave.” You clenched your fists at your side, fighting the numbing feeling around your chest area.

“I have to, I can’t stay in a relationship where you’re the only one who’s still feeling things, Y/n.” Atsumu tells you, he runs his hands through his blonde locks, frustration had spread across his face, “Just— Just let me go..”

You wiped your tears finally, thinking about it for a moment before sniffing a one last sob, “Okay.”

You had a very time healing, there was a time you didn’t have any source of energy in your body to eat, almost resulting for you to be taken to the hospital, that’s how bad the break up impacted you. Your family and friends were worried about your well being, but after a month or two. You finally feel yourself again.

You started to be you, feel the happiness you make for yourself. Atsumu was gone, and at times like this you have no one but yourself is what you always say.

So when one of your friends invited you to a dinner with also some of her friends, you agreed. Wanting to have fun with them, and possibly dance the night away. After all you deserved it.

The restaurant was a traditional japanese, it was warm and very welcoming, you had a big smile plastered on your face as you greeted the one’s you knew before sitting at your designated chair, the smile still on your face but soon faded when a voice you knew all too well hits your hearing sentence.

“Their bathroom is very clean.” The voice said, no. You refused to look at his way.

So, when you can hear the footsteps nearing, you used your hair to hide your face. It was dumb and cowardly for you, but you can never earn the guts to ever look into his eyes without feeling your heart cracking slightly. He had pained you enough.

“Ah Atsumu! Come and join us, you took your time alright.” One of the boys says with a bold laugh at the end.

You felt so small, you wanted nothing but to want to have the ground swallow you up at this very moment.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” You hear your friend ask beside you, you cringed at how her voice said your name out loud.

You swear you heard Atsumu mumble your name but you assured yourself maybe it was just your imagination.

Turning your head to look towards your friend as you nod your head frantically, “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

She gives you a worried look, rethinking maybe it was a mistake inviting you here, but after all she had no idea your ex boyfriend was ever going to be here.

You hear the chair in front of you move, and a person sits down in front of it, please don’t let it be him, you prayed in your mind, chanting those words like it was a prayer as you slowly look up, and only to your dismay, it was him. Of course it was him, his soft blonde locks appeared in your sight, and what surprised you the most is how he was already looking at you, you can’t make the way he was looking at you, you can’t read it, and you didn’t want to.

You averted your eyes away form him, hoping that he gets the signal you became uncomfortable in his gaze.

You wanted to leave like anyone in the room, but that just shows your weakness towards the blonde and you didn’t want it. You healed, you learned to love yourself and that’s what you like to show him.

And to his point of view, he was confused. Yeah he broke up with you as cold as ice, but then, why did he feel his heart slowly igniting into fire as soon as he took a glimpse of you. It was as if when he first saw you, how hard he fell for you at first sight was the feelings he felt when he first saw you again after the break up and he hates it.

He can’t love you now, when he has already done enough damage, it was unfair to you.

But it wasn’t a sin to think you were as beautiful as the day he lost you. How can he ever do that to you? With all the words he spit out like it was nothing, his feelings faded away and he felt bad. It was confusing to say the least.

After the break up, Atsumu thought he will be the happiest man in the world, finally being free away from the one sided relationship but it was a hard time trying to forget about you after all, he never felt that way to someone before.

And those feelings came back, just by a single look in your eyes he knows he was falling all over again.

Your group of friends started digging in the food that was in front of you, and you felt a little shy to start eating, so you placed such small food onto your plate to eat, your appetite of eating has dropped a shocking amount.

“Yer not hungry?” That familiar accent of his, was he talking to you? Oh how you hope he wasn’t. But when you looked up to him, it answers all your questions.

He was already looking at you, those foxy eyes of his staring right back at you.

You felt awkward but you moved your mouth nonetheless, “No, not really.”

“Well, try this— they make like the best sushi!” He exclaims with a smile, his smile, after months you never forget how it looks like, to think about it he quite changed. His hair now pushed back and his face was refreshing than ever. The relationship was really bad for him, huh.

With no permission from you, the blonde grabs one of the sushi by his chopsticks to place on your plate, some of your friends had silenced to watch the awkward interaction and both of you failed to notice.

You look up at him in surprised, “It’s fine, I’m quite okay.”

You refused, placing the sushi at the farthest corner of your plate as you flash him a forced smile. It was maybe your imagination but you see a glimpse of disappointment flash across his face.

“Ah I’m sorry.” He says with a scratch at the back of his neck, his tone tells it all, he was kind of expecting for rejection.

You didn’t reply at his apology, you only remained silent to eat from your plate. Finding it hard to look up and to maintain conversations with anyone.

The rest of the dinner was silent for you, your friends had fun sure, you giggled and laugh at some time but the majority of it was you just sitting on your chair to listen to them talk, also not liking the fact that majority of it was Atsumu’s gaze lingering on you and you wanted nothing more than to want to brush it off of you like it was dirt stained on your shirt, he was sparking up conversations here and there but you instantly turned it down before it can even ascend any further.

And at last, the dinner finally came into an end. It felt like forever to sit around while trying so hard to stay quiet when Atsumu was literally in front of you. After you had said your good bye’s to your friends, you took the chance to leave first, telling such bullshit reason that it was family emergency.

So as soon as you had gotten out of that restaurant you can’t help but inhale the soft breeze of the night, you bury both of your hands inside your pocket and started heading home where you can chill with your cats and maybe watch something to ease your mind before falling asleep.

But then, after being a few blocks away from the restaurant you were stopped.

“Y/n, wait.” Someone says behind you, and you can never forget about that voice his.

Your feet seemed to stop in cue, and you can’t move them anymore. You prayed you had the strength to face him on whatever thing he wants with you. But you just hoped you are able to cope with him, even just for this time and you wished to not see him anymore after this.

You turned around slowly, watching as he pants, trying to chase his breath as he stops a meter away from you, “Uh... How are you?”

“Just get to the point, Miya.” You strictly tell him and he cringes at the last name basis.

He began to fidget with his fingers, he shows body languages that he was indeed nervous, while you only looked at him, adding pressure just by looking at him.

“It’s nice seeing you again— after you know, gosh I’m so sorry about that.” He says, bringing his hand back again to the back of his neck to scratch it, a habit he never loses whenever he has a hard time gathering his emotions.

“It was like a month ago, I’m sure both of us had moved on from it.” You replied with no emotion visible on your tone, and it gives the blonde a hard time to tell what you’re thinking.

“Yeah, I’m sure we both moved on from it.” He agrees with you with a nervous laugh at his end, “By the way, is there a way that I can see you again?”

“See me again? Why?” You ask, crossing your arms in front of your chest to raise an eyebrow at the nervous blonde.

“I know I messed up before, but allow me to fix it, allow me to fix us.” He confesses and just like deja vú, you backed a step away and he widens a little at your actions.

“There’s nothing to fix Miya, we ended months ago.” You say, shaking your head and finding it very hard to believe he was trying to get back to you, no, not when you’re doing just fine by yourself. And after all, you had no idea if he’ll end up leaving you again, “You’re not sure about your feelings, Miya. So don’t go around saying you want me back.”

“After the break up, I thought I’d be able to forget about you. But you never once left my mind.” He confesses finally, looking down to his feet as he feels shame overcoming him.

You laughed bitterly, “Why are we even having this conversation? Nothing is need to be said.”

“There is! Let me take care of this, let me fix the things I broke.” He tells you. His eyes was nothing but genuine, you can tell, your heart listened to him, wanting to just elope him into a tight hug but your brain was unsure if he was able to do what he did back then.

“Stop, just stop— you’re just gonna waste your time.” And with that being said you left, leaving him to his own regret and sorrows. But you’ll be damned if you think he’ll stop there, he knows he feels bad, the damage he had cost you was so much and he would willingly fix it.

He knows he loved you, he was a fool to let his feelings overcome him at the day you two broke up, but the truth is, he did lose feelings, but he was unaware that it was capable of coming back. Now he was sure, he loved you unconditionally.

First day, you woke up to a soft knock at your front door. You stirred in your sleep until you were fully awoken by how long the knocking had lasted, with a grumble and a little bit of cusses on your way to your front door, you opened it with no care.

But soon closed it right after when you were met by a familiar blonde man standing right on top of your door mat, both his hands occupied with either flowers and snacks. You leaned your back against the door, finding it very hard to face him at this kind of moment, “Get lost, Miya!”

Your heart beats hard against your chest but your mind shakes the sweet moment away.

“B... But, at least accept the flowers.” He tells you at the other side, his face frowns.

“Leave, please just leave.” You say, now sliding down to the tiles, bringing your knee to your chest as you tried to calm your heart down.

Atsumu on the other side looks at the flowers in his hand, and without any thought he places it right in front of your door before leaving with no words cause he knows how much you didn’t want him to be there.

At the middle of your day when you had to go to the supermarket to buy some products you needed to use, you were met by the flowers the blonde left earlier. And your harshly picked it up to throw in the trash can, he was confused by his feelings and he shouldn’t be wasting his time for you because things ended for good.

How did he even find out about your house address?

And the day after that he showed up in your front door, all kinda of sweet stuff in his hand as he gives you such smile while you only slammed the door right in his face, the coldest thing ever but he understood, and he doesn’t give up to place the things on your doorstep to recognize later on with the day, unknown to him they were all sitting on your trashcan.

You thought he was going to give up after a couple of weeks, or even months but he didn’t stop, sometimes stopping by your work place to meet you at the entrance to hand you the same flowers he had to give, but you had sadly ignored him, you were stubborn, you listened to your heart before and look where it got you, it doesn’t hurt to listen to your mind once in a while right?

There then comes a time where all of it finally came down on you, it was heavily raining, and his familiar knock on your door was heard an hour ago, you thought he left already since it rained like cats and dogs, so you laid in your bed, trying to get some sleep, but you were turning, moving around on your bed, not being able to find such spot to sleep, and then, you suddenly stand up, and before you knew it you were already moving towards your window to look outside, and there he was. Standing under the rain as he grabbed onto the flowers he had for the day and the chocolates in his hands.

He looked like he was standing there under the rain for about an hour and it pokes right on your heart, you hate seeing him like this.

You sighed, finally ignoring your mind as you ran up down stairs after putting on a decent outfit, opening the door frantically at your front door, “Atsumu!”

You used his first name and you didn’t even notice, his head turns over to you. And your body weakened when you notice his lips had gone slightly blue. 

What was he thinking? You say in your head as you frown before signaling him inside your house and he hesitantly did it. Walking inside your house and as you see him up close you can see his bottom lip slightly quivering.

“Are you crazy?” You exclaims, taking the flowers and chocolates from him, for the first time you had placed them right on your table before guiding Atsumu towards your kitchen, you excused yourself to go grab a towel from your bathroom, not hesitating to place it around him and he mumbles a thank you.

“Why would you do that? You’re going to get sick, Atsumu.” You say, worry lacing your voice as you continued to make some hot chocolate for him, you knew how much he loves it on a rainy day and even yourself can’t tell the reason why you did it, “You always do careless things!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to miss a day of bringing you flowers.” He says, his voice low and raspy as he hangs his head down.

You halt your movements and in that little moment your heart skipped a beat, “Why are you still trying?”

Atsumu stays silent for a moment, “Because I love you, I really do. And after getting a look at you again after months of trying to move on, I just knew I had to see you again.”

This time, you really stopped your movements, unable to know what to speak next as you gulped down a group of saliva, somehow, there was nothing but genuine and honesty in his tone, you too felt the same, you denied it all the time and maybe finally your mind was made up, why not give it a try? Everybody deserves a second chance, but you were probably still gonna be cautious around him.

“One date.” You say, grabbing the cup in your hand as you walked up to him to hand him the cup and he doubts a little bit before accepting it.

“What.” He widens his eyes, his movements freezing.

“I have some spare oversized clothes that may fit you, you can also take a shower while you’re here.” You say, blushing furiously as you tried to change the topic as you make your way out of the kitchen, not long enough you were leaning your back against the wall beside the entrance to the kitchen.

Placing your hand on your chest as you clenched it, trying to calm down your heart from beating so fast as if you had just talked to Atsumu for the first time, without realizing a smile makes it’s way up to your lips.

After the interaction, you are embarrassed to say you dug out the things he bought for you, the flowers, cards, and stuff animals out of the trashcan you refused to disposed, you then treasure them in your room.

And that day finally came, the day Atsumu has been waiting. Both of you attended the festival that happened in hyōgo. Atsumu was smiling, not a single second did you see it fade away in the slightest and you were also giggling at his lame old jokes, you can’t help but to admit it but, you missed him.

And he misses you, he believes both of you can still be fix, and he just needs for you to believe in him, and you slowly do, you missed the way he made you feel and the way he made you feel safe, you believed it was the right thing.

Both of you had the time of your life, able to feeding each other with street foods and what not, he treated you like you were so fragile and he was aware that he might hurt you.

At last, the day has finally reached it’s exciting part, you and Atsumu stood beside each other at the view of the whole town, the lights reflected your face and it enhanced it so prettily, Atsumu watches you admire the view, while he admired you.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, please enjoy this beautiful firework show starting in five seconds.” A lady announces in the speakers and you can’t help but feel excited.

“Atsumu, it’s starting!” You exclaims, looking over to him with a smile he wishes he could see again, and he thanks the God he was able to.

“Thank you.” He suddenly says, his gaze not leaving yours.

“F... For what?” You failed to start a normal sentence, your smile slowly faded.

“For giving me a chance.” He tells you, his eyes softening as the moment passes by.

And before you can even open your mouth, the first fireworks lights up in the air, the sound slightly catching you off guard and it that moment, the firework light enhances both of your faces as you look into each others eyes.

But soon you looked away first, finding it hard to look away but you managed and so did Atsumu. You both enjoyed the beautiful sight in front of you, heart beating and seeking for each other.

And then, one of the biggest fireworks you had seen lights up the pitch black sky, “Wow, it’s beautiful.”

Atsumu slowly turns his head to you, watching as your eyes adore the sight before you as he open his lips to say, “so beautiful.”

please do not repost! this wasn’t profread!

[streamsofstardust]

safe & sound | d.r.w x s.f.k

danny wagner x sam kiszka

word count: 8,315

content warnings: descriptions of violence, detailed descriptions of murder as a means to survive, severe depression, nightmares, danny is Not Okay, self isolation, attempt at suicide, sam has the biggest heart, tons of angst…. like so much angst and sadness, sam is reactive and hot headed but he feels bad about it, happy gay endings

summary: 5 years after the winning the hunger games, danny has moved on to a new life, one where he gets the creative freedom to create music in a band with sam, jake, and josh. but for danny, being outside the arena doesn't mean the fight is over.

a/n: so this came from a concept karou lovingly shared with me recently. we're both obsessed with it and i had so many ideas popping into my head when we talked about it that i decided to write something to go along with a specific part. I'm kind of in love with it and it might be in my top five favorite fics that i've written

that said, this fic is genuinely one of the saddest, most intense things i've ever written and i cannot stress this enough but if you're not comfortable with depictions of suicidal ideation or suicide attempts, PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS.

Moving into a shared residence in the Capitol was moderately unsettling. Most of the people Danny encountered only saw him as the unlikely and unexpected champion. He didn’t feel like he’d won anything, sometimes even wishing he hadn’t made it so far. But there he was, in a new home with new people who only vaguely knew of what he’d gone through. The Kiszkas had spent an eternity together, one never knowing life without the other two by his side.

They hadn't been thrown into the Games.

They didn't have blood on their hands.

If Danny was closed off, more reserved, and quieter than the other three, it was because he no longer had a proper sense of how to just exist. He no longer knew how to truly interact with other people; he hadn’t for a few years now. It turned out murdering five people while they were unable to defend themselves had that effect. He tried to be normal, tried his hardest to go back to the fun, extroverted man he was before the Games. This proved to be extremely challenging.

Danny hoped one day someone would be able to bring him back to the world of the living. That one day someone would hear his story and understand he had no choice. That they wouldn't praise him for being a victor, but rather console him for what he had to do to get there. That they’d understand how hollow he’d become.

He hoped one day someone would be the reason his smile wasn't forced or fake. The reason he could feel whole again.

Most nights, Danny never tried to fall asleep. Sleep meant subconscious thoughts would come to the surface, visions of the horrible things he endured, the horrible things he did. He protected himself in that arena, saved his own life during the Games, but at what cost? He hadn't known peace since the night he left home.

When he sleeps he dreams and when he dreams, the nightmares replay. He’ll never forget it: the feel, the smell - metallic and horrendously pungent - of blood on his hands. How the warm, red liquid seeped into his clothing, trailed down his arms, splattered on his face. He had sat in the carnage for longer than he wanted to. While his brain had told him to run, to flee as fast as he could, his body was immobile. And so, the image of the bodies, the lives he took, resided permanently in his tortured mind. Danny saw it as instantaneous karma, as if the world was saying “you committed this atrocity, and now you’ll suffer the consequences.”

None of this had been shared with his new cohorts. Bandmates. Brothers.

– – 

A long day of band practice left Danny feeling drained, more so than usual. He loved playing and he enjoyed every minute he spent with the Kiszkas, but still, he was tired and ready to retreat to his bedroom - to solitude - for another night of restless sleep plagued by never ending loops of nightmares. Ones he could never truly wake up from because he’d actually lived through them. 

The Kiszkas rarely questioned why he constantly rejected their offers to hang out after practice. It wasn’t personal, he’d made that abundantly clear, but despite five years having passed, he still wasn’t comfortable letting his guard completely down. He was in the band out of obligation. Not that he would give up the opportunity, the freedom creating art gave him, but it wasn’t as though he’d volunteered to be thrust into the spotlight. He was thankful his drum kit remained at the back of the stage, out of direct light, furthest away from any crowd they performed for.

So, as he typically did, Danny went to his room and shut the door, not bothering to turn on any lights. He stripped out of his clothing, save for his boxer briefs, and climbed into bed. He still hadn’t gotten used to the comfort of it. How lavish it was compared to what he grew up with. There were many things he wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to. Every day that passed was one he had to force himself not to fear.

It wasn’t particularly late, maybe around 11:30 at night, and he knew the others would likely be awake until 2:00 am at the very least. Even then, they’d be asleep before Danny. Tonight, though, he felt especially tired. As he crawled under his comforter, he found himself repeating the same motions he did every night: reminding himself of the times before the arena.

He recalled sitting by the fire with his father, listening to him recount stories of brave warriors who saved lives and slayed monstrous beasts. He thought of his sister, how they’d run around as children catching fireflies and picking flowers to decorate their house. And he thought of his mother and her sweet smile that lit up every room she walked into. He thought of the times he and his sister would help their mother cook meals, taking notes for each recipe to one day do the same with their own children. He thought of nights where the four of them would gather in the living room, staying warm by the fire and just enjoying each other's company.

Slowly, he felt the calm wash over him and his body gave into the slumber it so badly desired. 

Then, against his will, he was struck with the cruel reminder of how the three most important people in his life were mercilessly slaughtered for protesting Danny being selected to represent their district in the Games. He gasped as his eyes shot open, trying his hardest to catch his breath and calm his furiously beating heart. A stray tear fell from his right eye, the salty water feeling like fire on his skin. He quickly wiped it away, sniffling and shaking his head before closing his eyes.

That was another piece of information the Kiszkas didn’t know. Another look into his troubled mind and traumatized existence that he kept to himself.

Once more, he tried to calm himself down, and eventually he was able to fall asleep. It was peaceful for a moment, no dreams whatsoever, and that rarely happened. Of course, though, it didn’t last - it never did. 

Suddenly he found himself back in the arena, just barely 16, wide eyed and nervous, having no idea how he’d possibly survive. His training scores were embarrassing, but he was tall, naturally muscular, and incredibly broad. His facial features had him standing apart from the others in a way that brought him more attention than he’d ever experienced before, and then it didn’t matter how poor his scores were; the public adored him, dubbing him their favored gentle giant. 

It was that persona that allowed him to fly under the radar when the Games began. He hadn’t made any attempts at finding allies, instead focusing on merely staying alive as long as he possibly could. On the seventh night, he began noticing a distinct flower appearing around the arena- henbane. A beautiful and deceiving plant that had killed off several of his family’s livestock. He backed away from the plants, having no desire to fall victim to its effects. 

He found a place to hide and looked around at his opponents. At that point there were only five others left, and they’d gotten far because of their alliances. He watched the tributes huddle together in an open space not too far away from him, staring in wonder as they fell into states of delirium and hallucinations from the henbane that surrounded them, eventually passing out on the ground. 

Danny was familiar with the deep state of unconsciousness henbane caused. He knew there was little that would wake them up, and most, if not all of them, would fall into comas they’d never wake up from. It was too easy to take advantage of, so he did.

He quietly stalked over to the group, careful to avoid the poisonous plant, and reached for a dagger that had fallen from the hand of a tribute from District 2. The metal felt heavy in his hand, but the knowledge of what he had to do with the weapon weighed heavier on his mind. Back home, he’d helped his father kill cattle, but that was a necessity - a means to survive. 

Then again, he figured this, too, would be a necessity. Without giving himself another moment to reconsider his choice, he walked up to each of the sleeping tributes and slit their throats with the stolen dagger. Blood sprayed everywhere, covering his hands, his clothes, his face.

When he was done, and all five tributes were dead, Danny stood up and looked at bodies below him. He was shaking, barely able to catch a breath, and he felt tremendously dizzy. All he could smell was blood, and he felt sick. He wasn’t sure how much time passed while he stood there, completely immobile. In the distant parts of his brain, parts that were still able to process his surroundings, he heard the Canon go off. Each boom signifying the death of a tribute.

He had won. It was over.

But like it did most nights, the dream restarted, eventually only replaying the moment the blade in Danny’s hand sliced through the still warm flesh of those five tributes. It was too much, too much, too violent, too real too real too real too-

“DANNY!”

His eyes shot open, adjusting to the darkness of the room and witnessing Sam’s terrified face.

He wasn’t able to respond yet, his brain still replaying scenes from the Games. His mouth was dry and his eyes were frantically moving around the room as he attempted to ground himself with familiar sights.

Sam was hovering over him, one of his hands gripping Danny’s right upper arm. His entire body felt overheated, but somehow, the warmth of Sam’s hand felt different. A completely separate warmth. 

“Sam? What are you - How did you get in my room? Why are you here?” He didn’t mean to come off sounding so harsh; Sam certainly didn’t deserve any attitude from him.

“I woke up to the sound of you screaming. I didn’t even realize it was you at first, but when I did I rushed over. Your door wasn’t locked so I- I came in and,” His words trailed off as he took in Danny’s appearance. His curls were a mess around his head, the bags under his eyes were incredibly prominent, and there were beads of sweat slowly dripping down Danny’s tanned, bare torso. He stopped himself from looking at that part of his friend any longer; he needed to focus.

“Dan, you were thrashing around like a fish out of water, screaming bloody murder.”

Danny physically recoiled at Sam’s words. He had no idea how accurate they were, but Danny wasn’t about to tell him.

“I’m fine, Sam. Go back to your room.” Danny turned away from him, grabbing his blankets and pulling them up to cover his upper body, despite feeling like he was about to melt from the heat. 

“You’re clearly not fine. You know this isn’t the first time I’ve heard you, right? The twins might be too far away in their rooms, but I’m right next to you, and I’m not deaf. I know you don’t want to tell us about what happened, you know, back- back then, and you don’t have to, but at least let me be there for you.” 

Sam still hadn’t moved from Danny’s bed, and he had no intention of doing so anytime soon. He cared about the drummer more than he could put into words, and had for as long as he’d known him. And sure, maybe they’d only personally known each other for about a year, but Sam knew he was something special when he found out Danny won the Games. Admiration quickly turned into adoration, and feelings he wasn’t familiar with blossomed too fast for him to take a second to question them. The twins knew how Sam felt, but Danny didn’t, and given what could be at risk if the truth came out, they kept that information to themselves. They’d made that same decision when Josh had come out to him and Jake years prior. 

So no, Danny wasn’t fine, and no, Sam wasn’t going to leave him alone. He had too much love in his heart to walk away from someone he cared so deeply for. He still hadn’t received a response from Danny, and he nudged him, hoping to get his attention. When that accomplished nothing, his first thought was Danny had somehow fallen asleep again. He then realized he knew better, him and the twins being well aware of how little sleep their drummer got on a nightly basis, so instead, he mustered all the strength he had and rolled Danny onto his back.

Danny’s eyes stayed closed, but Sam watched as tears trailed down his face, into his unruly curls. He reached forward, softly wiping away the tears and cradling Danny’s left cheek in his hand. It was that touch that prompted Danny to finally open his eyes, and when he did, Sam felt his heart shatter.

“Oh, Dan…” Sam whispered. He felt tears of his own forming in his eyes, not able to help the reaction he had to seeing his friend in such a state.

“I don’t want to talk about it Sam, I can’t- I-” Danny found it hard to fully put into words what he wanted to say, stuttering over each one that managed to spill out of his mouth. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to. You don’t have to tell me anything, okay? I’m not going to push, Dan, I promise. If you want to be alone, I can g-”

“Wait!” Danny’s hand wrapped around Sam’s wrist as the bassist moved to stand up. “N- no. I-” He couldn’t bring himself to ask the question lingering on his mind, only letting out a soft “please?”

Danny looked up at Sam through his long, dark lashes. He’d stopped crying, but the red hue surrounding his hazel irises burned. He dropped his head and rubbed his eyes with his free hand, the other still firmly holding onto Sam.

When Sam looked at where Danny held him, his chest constricted. He didn’t need to ask Sam to stay, he would’ve made that decision on his own unless Danny explicitly demanded he leave. But in his own way, Danny did ask. Sam understood what that one word meant. He nodded, sitting back down on the bed before laying fully on top of the blankets. He didn’t want to risk Danny being uncomfortable when both of them were barely dressed. 

Danny, however, wasn’t ready to settle for that. 

“Sam?” He called out, his voice hardly above a whisper.

“Yeah?”

“I know this might sound weird, but can you… can you hold me? You can say no, it’s fine if you do I wouldn’t blame you, but I just feel like I need-”

“Daniel, calm down. It’s not weird, come here.”

Sam fully expected Danny to turn his back to him, letting the bassist’s chest press against the soft skin, but he didn’t. He faced Sam, looking up at him for a brief moment before curling into his chest, one of his arms wrapping around Sam’s slim torso as he breathed in the familiar scent that was so unmistakably Sam Kiszka. Sam wrapped his arms fully around Danny, one of his hands coming up to cradle his head and gently play with his hair.

“Try to go back to sleep, Dan. I’m not going anywhere.” Sam spoke softly, fighting the urge to place a kiss to the top of Danny’s head. The drummer nodded in lieu of a verbal response, his arm pulling Sam even closer to his body.

– –

When they woke up, Sam noticed a few things. The first being that he was no longer holding Danny. At some point in the night, they’d switched positions, and now Danny’s muscular arms were wrapped around Sam’s body as they spooned. The second thing he noticed was that he was under the blankets, something he had no recollection of doing before he fell asleep. And while that wasn’t very alarming to him, what was was the fact that his bare body - save for a pair of shorts that could arguably be deemed too short - was pressed entirely against Danny’s bare body. Not only was every inch of them touching, their legs were tangled together, another thing Sam had no memory of happening. 

He smiled, his heart fluttering in his half awake state. 

Danny was still asleep, and when Sam looked over at the clock, he saw just how late in the day it was. He’d gone into Danny’s room around 2 am, and now it was the afternoon. Danny had slept for ten straight hours, and Sam couldn’t help but feel rather proud of himself for being the reason why. 

At least, he assumed he was the reason. He didn’t let himself think too far into that one. 

As much as he wanted to let Danny sleep more, he knew they had practice in a few hours, and Danny would definitely want to shower off the sweat that coated his body. He did, however, give himself a few more minutes to enjoy the feeling of Danny’s body encasing his own before waking him up. 

– –

Practice ran smoothly, as it typically did. Josh had presented a few new songs, and all of the guys loved the lyrics. He had a way with words that Danny envied and a power to tell stories like no other. Sometimes Danny wondered if he could take his past and put it to music, but then he’d be opening himself up in ways he never had, and that terrified him. For the time being, he decided to stick to keeping it all to himself.

Neither Danny nor Sam had talked about the night they spent together, especially ignoring the subject of how they woke up. Danny was a bit surprised to find out how long he’d slept, as well as by the position the two had ended up in at some point in their parallel unconsciousness. Yet, at the same time, he wasn’t. He’d always found Sam to be comforting, and he gravitated towards that feeling, chasing it as quickly as he ran from the demons that haunted his mind. 

Danny figured if Sam was bothered by it, he would’ve said something, and he probably would’ve removed himself from Danny’s grip, but he didn’t. That fact made Danny’s heart race, wondering if Sam had picked up on the feelings Danny had for him that he’d tried his hardest to keep hidden. He wondered, too, if Sam could possibly feel the same, but he wasn’t in the business of allowing his hopes to get too high.

Jake’s voice snapped him out of his train of thought. 

“Hey Danny, do you wanna help me with these riffs?” 

– –

That night, he gave in to the Kiszka’s persistent begging to join them for a few drinks in the living room. They all seemed shocked that he agreed to stay and hang out with them for once, and he didn’t miss the smile on Sam’s face upon hearing Danny say “okay.”

The more they drank, the more Danny felt himself loosen up. He’d taken one side of a couch, letting Sam drape his long legs over his lap without thinking twice. It was actually nice, spending time with the Kiszkas. So nice, in fact, that for a moment he felt guilty for not doing it more often. 

Apparently nothing killed a nice buzz quite like overwhelming guilt.

“I think I’m gonna head upstairs, get some sleep. Thanks for tonight, guys.” Danny spoke as he lifted Sam’s legs before placing them back down on the couch. Understanding how little socializing Danny regularly partook in, no one pushed him to stay longer, all three brothers being thankful he stayed as long as he had. 

Sam looked up at him with a questioning glance, one Danny wasn’t able to decipher the meaning of, so he didn’t try harder to. He figured the alcohol would help him fall asleep, and as tempting as it was to drink himself into oblivion and pass out face down on his mattress, he opted against that idea. He’d tried that a few times in the past; it never made him feel any better and it did nothing to keep the nightmares away. So really, there was no point.

It was a bit colder than usual that evening, so Danny threw on a pair of soft flannel pajama pants - still leaving his torso bare - and crawled into bed, his head feeling just the slightest bit fuzzy from the drinks he’d consumed. 

For a moment, he allowed himself to think back to the prior night, specifically Sam in his bed. It was the first time they’d intentionally shared a bed, and while it could’ve been awkward, it just felt… right. Part of him wanted to ask Sam to sleep with him, but perhaps that was pushing it. He still had no idea how Sam felt about everything. About him.

Eventually he was able to fall asleep, though, as expected, it didn’t last. Once again he was tormented by his memories on a loop, and once again, he was woken up by Sam shaking him.

“Dan…” Sam sounded just as out of breath as Danny was.

“Was I screaming again?” His voice cracked ever so slightly as he spoke, already knowing the answer to his question.

Sam simply nodded, trying his hardest to hold back his own emotions. He wanted so badly for Danny to tell him what was causing the nightmares. While he knew it was related to Danny’s time in the arena, he had a feeling there was so much more to it, and even though he knew he could look up the answers for himself, he refused to. If Danny wasn’t going to openly share the information, Sam wasn’t going to go behind his back to find it. He had way too much respect for his friend.

Danny’s hands wiped over his own face, pushing his curls away from where they’d plastered to his skin from sweating so much. 

“Sam, can you-”

“Of course. You don’t have to ask.” 

Sam crawled into bed with Danny, this time intentionally laying under the blankets. He stayed on his back, and as Danny curled into him, Sam stared at the ceiling, his own thoughts racing. He felt Danny shiver, but his body was warm. A single tear fell from Danny’s eye onto Sam’s chest and he pulled Danny closer into his body.

“I’m sorry Sam.” 

Sam took a deep breath, not out of annoyance, but because he was frustrated. Frustrated that someone he cared about was struggling, and there was little he could do outside of holding him. He hoped it was enough, at least for now.

“Get some sleep, Danny. I’m right here.”

– –

The same thing happened every night for the next two weeks.

Danny didn’t understand why his nightmares kept getting worse, more persistent. He didn’t understand why nothing kept them away. And he didn’t understand why Sam’s presence was the only thing that relaxed him enough to sleep through the rest of the night.

After a few days, Sam stopped going to his room to sleep. He assumed he’d end up in Danny’s room anyway, so that’s where he started. If the circumstances were different, he might appreciate it a bit more, having Danny wrapped around him and vice versa - which was how they always woke up. 

The twins caught Sam and Danny walking out of the latter’s room one morning and while Danny was rubbing sleep from his eyes, Jake and Josh gave Sam questioning looks. Sam said nothing, he just shook his head as a clear nonverbal response he knew his brother’s would understand: Don’t ask.

During that two week period, there were only two nights that Danny didn’t wake up screaming in a cold sweat, though they weren’t consecutive. His nightmares still attacked his unconscious mind, but for those two days, he’d wake up startled rather than terrified to his core. He knew it wasn’t an indication that things were getting better, that would be much too naive of a thought. Danny knew the severity of nightmares would inevitably return, and he was proven right when they did. 

There were nights where he tried to stay up as late as possible to avoid sleeping at all, something Sam quickly caught onto and gently reprimanded him for. Everyone could see how tired Danny was, how detached from reality he was. It had gotten to the point where it was impacting his ability to play. He missed cues, played the wrong notes, or sometimes forgot what to play all together. 

Jake had gotten annoyed for the slightest moment, but immediately backed off when he saw the state Danny was in. Sam was thankful Jake was relatively perceptive. If his older brother hadn’t stopped, he was positive he would’ve jumped over Josh to strangle Jake with the cord plugged into his bass.

Danny felt the shift in himself, too. He recognized things were getting worse for him mentally, and though he was aware he could’ve asked for help, he didn’t. It wasn’t like him to open up that much, not even to Sam. The rational part of his brain told him he was making a mistake, that nothing would get better unless he finally talked to someone about what was troubling him. But then he felt like all his confession would do was burden the Kiszkas, and he couldn’t let that happen. 

But he was tired. So incredibly, painfully tired, in more ways than one, and it had gotten to the point where he could no longer handle it. He just wanted it all to stop. He missed his family, his life before the Games. He missed feeling normal. And as much as he enjoyed Sam’s nightly company in his bed - perhaps a bit more than he wanted to admit - he hated that he’d become moderately dependent on it. 

If he was honest, he was ready for all of it to end. He knew it was dramatic, he knew he would hurt people, but what about the hurt he felt? He couldn’t take it anymore. It had to stop.

– –

That night as Sam crawled into bed with Danny, he noticed his friend was fully dressed for once, not an inch of bare skin to be found. He frowned a bit at that, having gotten used to feeling Danny’s warm skin pressed against his own, but he chose not to speak on it. He also noticed how silent and closed off Danny had been. Even when he was quiet when the four of them were together, he at least spoke a bit more the moment the two of them were alone. He was tired, that’s all it was. Sam tried to push away the idea that Danny was sick of him being there; that he wasn’t pulling away despite how much it felt like he was.

Then there was another difference.

“Hey Sam?”

“Hmm?”

Danny rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous tick of his that Sam had picked up on. He was struggling to look at Sam as he spoke, and his words sounded quieter than usual.

“You know how we- when we fall asleep, you’re the one holding me?” Sam nodded, waiting for him to continue. “Can we- can I- just this once-”

Sam smiled at his friend, knowing exactly what Danny was trying and struggling to say. “You want to hold me, Dan? Wanna be the big spoon this time?” 

Danny could tell Sam was making an effort to lighten his spirits. He appreciated it, but it was making everything that much harder. He forced himself to crack the smallest smile. Sam had told him in the past he loved Danny’s crooked smile, and he thought about that compliment daily. 

“Yeah, if that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay. Come on over, I’m a bit chilly and you’re basically the human equivalent of a space heater.” Sam joked.

Danny waited for Sam to shuffle closer to him before wrapping his arms around him and holding him as tight as he could. He wouldn’t be able to do this again if he followed his impulses.

“Woah! You know I’m not gonna run away, right?” Sam was taken aback by the grip Danny had on his body, but had no intention of moving. He thought about turning around to tell Danny exactly how he felt about him, but with the hold Danny had, it was impossible to move.

Danny ignored the joke his friend made, burying his face into Sam’s long, chestnut locks. He breathed in the scent that he’d gotten so used to, the scent that was so unequivocally Sam, the one that brought him the faintest sense of peace. He thought back to the first night Sam came to wake him up, to protect him from the things only Danny could see - he still hadn’t asked Danny to explain what caused his nightmares. Danny thought about how quick Sam was to be there for him no matter what. He thought about how often he’d catch Sam staring at him with nothing but love and adoration in his eyes, though at first he was convinced he was imagining it.

He thought about how much he loved Sam, the boy who had so rapidly gone from a stranger to his best friend. 

He wanted to tell Sam exactly what was on his mind, at least when it came to his feelings, and even though he knew it would be his one and only chance to do it, he was too afraid. He squeezed Sam closer to him and hoped it would be enough.

“Goodnight, Sammy.” Danny spoke into Sam’s hair.

The bassist sighed tiredly, already being in the middle between sleep and consciousness.

“G’night Dan.” His words were slurred as they fell from his plump lips. “Love you.”

Danny’s eyes widened at his friend’s confession. Sam… loved him? No, he- as a friend, that’s all. Sam didn’t know major parts of who Danny was. He couldn’t actually… no. No way. 

He could feel Sam’s breath even out, this being one of the rare times he fell asleep before Danny. The drummer was thankful for that; it gave him an opportunity to appreciate Sam as much as he wanted. He’d miss him the most. He’d miss all the guys, but Sam… Sam would always be special.

After an hour of holding Sam, slowly trailing one of his hands up and down the smooth skin of Sam’s arm, Danny felt himself falling asleep. He so badly wanted to avoid it, to force himself to stay awake, but it was impossible. Even on nights where he didn’t wake up screaming, he still woke up from nightmares, and sometimes that movement didn’t wake Sam. This was one of those nights.

Against his will, Danny fell asleep. He wasn’t unconscious for long, maybe under an hour, but his nightmares once again wormed their way into his mind, and he woke suddenly with a gasp, struggling to take a breath. Instead of being scared, he was frustrated. He was so sick of being unable to sleep, unable to function the way Sam, Jake, and Josh did. He was officially done suffering.

Danny was still holding Sam, who was sound asleep. He carefully maneuvered his body away from Sam’s, trying his hardest to make sure he didn’t wake up. When he was successful, he stood up and walked around to the other side of the bed to face Sam. 

He knelt down, letting himself remember every detail of Sam’s face: His soft, plush lips, his smooth skin, the two small freckles on his left cheek. He brought one of his hands forward, gently lifting away a collection of stray hairs that had fallen over Sam’s face. Danny always believed Sam to be effortlessly beautiful. It was the first thing he noticed when they met, and that belief hadn’t changed. 

Tears formed in his eyes, threatening to spill over. He gently played with Sam’s hair, forcing himself to remember how soft it felt threading through his fingers. The longer he stared at his friend, the harder it was to keep the tears from flowing, and so they fell freely down Danny’s own freckled cheeks.

He stood up, placing one single, lingering kiss on Sam’s forehead. He whispered as quietly as he could.

“I love you too. I’m sorry, Sammy. I’m so, so sorry.”

Danny walked out of his room and into the bathroom down the hall, not bothering to lock the door; Sam was sound asleep, it wasn’t necessary. 

He sat on the edge of the bathtub, his head in his hands, and thought about his next move. He hadn’t really given much thought as to how to achieve his goal, and now that it was time, he wasn’t sure what to do. He thought about everything that was kept in the medicine cabinet. There were razors for them all to shave, save for Josh, who had insisted on growing out his facial hair. There was also an abundance of painkillers and sleeping pills, both prescriptions, the former for Jake’s left forearm and the latter, for Danny. He avoided them as much as possible, so the bottle was essentially full. 

He took it out and placed the bottle on the counter, staring at it as if it would do something for him on its own. Part of Danny expected that he’d be anxious about taking his own life, that when the time came, he’d be in a complete state of panic, but he wasn’t. He had no more fight left in him.

After filling a glass with water, Danny spilled the pills out of the bottle and into a pile on the granite. Twenty four pills would be more than enough. Once again, he found himself staring at them, hoping he wouldn’t have to be the one to make the final move. But the pills couldn’t do anything if he didn’t consume them, so he swept a quarter of them into the palm of his left hand, his right hand gripping the glass of water, the appendage shaking ever so slightly. 

He took a few deep breaths, feeling tears drop from his eyes again. He hadn’t even realized he started crying. Before he continued, he allowed himself to think back to happier times again, just as he did every night before falling asleep. That’s all he was doing - falling asleep.

He thought about his father’s warm hugs, his mother’s smile, his sister’s laugh. He thought about fireflies and cool summer nights with skies full of stars. He thought about spiced tea, crisp apples, and sweet pastries. All of the things he wished he appreciated more while he had the chance.

He thought about Sam.

It was the thought of leaving Sam that had his tears begin streaming down his face, but he forced himself to stay quiet. The last thing he wanted was Sam to wake up and see what he was doing. Slowly, he lifted his hand to drop the pills into his mouth. As he moved the glass of water to his lips, the door to the bathroom opened, and his head whipped in its direction.

“Dan, are you in here? I saw the light and- what the fuck?” Sam had been rubbing his eyes when he walked into the bathroom, not immediately seeing the scene before him. Once he did, he felt more awake than he had in a while, shutting the door behind him and fighting the urge to yell. He looked down and saw the remainder of the pills on the counter, finally putting two and two together, before ripping the glass out of Danny’s hand. “Danny fucking- christ, spit them out, now!” 

After a moment of hesitancy, a moment Sam believed to be way too long, the bassist repeated his demand. 

“Daniel, I swear if you don’t spit them out I’ll pry them out of your mouth myself.” He sounded angry, he knew that, but he was terrified and appalled and he couldn’t focus on sounding calm. He’d worry about that once he knew Danny was safe.

Danny complied, spitting the six pills into the garbage by his feet. He backed away from the sink and sat back down on the tub’s ledge, refusing to lift his face to see Sam’s face.

The two were silent for a few minutes, Danny not having any idea what to say and Sam having too many thoughts flooding his brain to know which ones to verbalize. Sam started pacing in the enclosed space, his hands tugging at his hair as he worked to form a sentence.

“What were you thinking? When did you even leave your room? You waited until I was asleep? You fucking- what, you were just going to kill yourself while I slept soundly in your bed? That was your plan? God, Danny what the fuck?!” He took a breath before continuing. “Is that why you wanted to hold me tonight? Is that why you were holding me so god damn tight? Because you thought it would be the last time you’d be able to? And what, you figured at some point I’d just find you lying cold on the bathroom floor? Or that Jake or Josh would? That’s why you were wearing actual pajamas tonight, isn’t it? Don’t answer that. Don’t fucking answer any of that, just… Danny what the fuck?”

At some point, Sam had started crying too, but Danny still hadn’t lifted his head to look at his friend, his own tears falling into his lap. Sam continued talking.

“You called me Sammy. You never call me that I- I should’ve known something was wrong. I should’ve-”

Danny figured it was the right time to speak up, not wanting Sam to start blaming himself for anything.

“Sam, I’m sorry. I didn’t -”

“You’re sorry? You’re sorry?!” Danny could see the rage in his friend’s eyes. “You were just going to leave me like that? Leave all of us? I know things have been hard for you and I get it but-”

“No you don’t!” Danny’s voice was raised, louder than he wanted it to be. “You have no idea what I’ve dealt with, no idea what I went through, what I’ve been going through for the past five years. You have no fucking idea how hard it is.”

“Because you don’t tell me anything! You never want to talk about it and I never push you because while I don’t know the details, I know it must have been horrific, and the last thing I wanted was to force you to relive any of that. But I can’t fucking help you the way you need to be helped if you won’t let me in.”

Danny scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “I don’t need your help, Sam.”

Sam’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head and Danny’s words. “Really? You don’t need my help? Look at where keeping everything bottled up got you, Daniel. You were trying to kill yourself. You were… oh my god.” Sam fell to his knees and buried his face in his hands as he sobbed. “You were going to leave me. You- you can’t leave me Dan, you can’t just-”

Danny moved to kneel in front of his friend, quickly pulling him into his arms. Sam was right, Danny couldn’t leave him. Hearing Sam’s cracking voice snapped him out of whatever trance had brought him to that bathroom in the first place. All he could do was apologize over and over, hoping that Sam would believe him. 

The two cried while holding each other, both shocked that the twins hadn’t heard any of the commotion. Sam thought about telling Danny the rest of what he was thinking, about how he loved him. Danny was considering the same thing, but neither of them spoke. After a while, Danny pulled away and stood up, reaching down for Sam to grab his hand.

“Let’s go.”

Sam wiped his face and looked up, grabbing Danny’s hand and standing along with him. “Where?”

Danny opened the door and turned the bathroom light off, walking into the hallway with a tight grip on Sam’s right hand. “Back to my room. Back to bed.”

– –

Neither of them spoke as they entered Danny’s room, nor as they got into bed. Danny knew he had a lot of explaining to do, but he also knew Sam likely wouldn’t push him to start talking. He appreciated that fact, feeling as though he at least needed one night before spilling all of his secrets. Rather than stay in his pajamas, Danny stripped down like he normally would, his body feeling much too hot from the anxiety and adrenaline coursing through his veins. There was also the fact that he desperately craved the comfort of having Sam’s bare skin against his own.

But he didn’t wrap his arms back around Sam, choosing instead to wait for his friend to make the first move. He didn’t know if Sam wanted space or if he’d shove Danny off of him out of frustration the second he was holding him. Sam did, in fact, make the first move, and faster than Danny expected. He threw himself onto Danny, burying his face in the space between Danny’s neck and shoulder while his long arms wrapped around the drummer’s upper body. His legs once again found themselves tangled with Danny’s, and he did what he could to ensure all of his body was touching all of Danny’s. 

It was his attempt at being as close as humanly possible. His own way of comforting himself and ensuring Danny was there; that he was still warm and breathing.

“Dan, I’m not gonna ask you to go into detail about everything, you know, that prompted you to do… that. But I just want to know why. What made that become the most desirable option for you?” Sam felt like he was skating on the thinnest ice imaginable as he spoke. He didn’t want to risk saying something that would set Danny off or make him spiral, but he needed an answer.

He felt Danny take a deep breath, his chest rising from under Sam’s hold. 

“I was tired, Sam. I am tired. Always so fucking tired. I can’t focus, can’t relax, can’t do anything and I couldn’t keep living like that. So I just… decided I wouldn’t anymore. All of the shit in my head, the memories… fuck, Sam, the things that I did. It’s impossible to deal with. I know it’s stupid and I know you’re probably mad at me and I really am sorry.”

Danny didn’t want to cry again, he wasn’t even sure he had anymore tears left to cry, but he could feel his chest constricting as if he was about to. That was another thing he was tired of - crying. 

“Danny, I’m not mad. I mean, I was at first I think, but more than anything I was just scared. I didn’t - I don’t - want to lose you. I don’t think my heart could take a loss like that.” Sam shut his eyes, taking a breath of his own to relax his mind before speaking again, scared but ready to confess. “I love you too much to survive losing you. The second I realized what was going on I swear I felt my heart shatter. Just the very idea that you’d even consider… Danny, it wouldn’t have fixed anything. Maybe the nightmares would stop for you, but what about me? The twins? The hole you’d leave if you…” He shook his head, not wanting to utter the remaining words of that thought. “No one could ever fill that space, Dan. Not in the house, not in the band, not in my heart. You need to understand that.”

If Danny was shocked by what Sam said, he did his best to not make it obvious. He liked to imagine at times that maybe his feelings for Sam weren’t one sided, but with no strength to actually tell him, he figured he’d never find out the truth. But Sam loved him. Sam loved him. He said the words clear as day, and for the first time in a long time, Danny felt a twinge of happiness. He shifted his body, nudging Sam to sit up with him.

Before he could respond, Sam spoke again.

“Please don’t freak out over what I just said. I know maybe it’s crazy and I know you’re going to say I don’t know you well enough to love you, but I do-”

“Sam.”

“I do love you. And it’s not pity or some overreaction to what I just saw, so don’t say that either because I know you would-”

“Sam.”

“I can’t help it okay, I love you and I’ve been dying to tell you for so long and if you don’t feel the same it’s fine, okay, I’ll get over it but-”

Danny couldn’t help but roll his eyes and grab Sam’s face with both of his hands, surging forward to kiss him with everything he had. It wasn’t like the movies, where fireworks go off and everything is right in the world - because truly, most things in Danny’s life were not right - but it was still perfect. 

Once Sam moved beyond the initial shock of Danny’s lips capturing his own, he kissed him back, both of them pouring every emotion into the action. The hand that Sam wasn’t leaning on for balance moved up to hold Danny’s bare hip, the skin feeling warm to the touch. Despite how often the two had cuddled, Danny still shivered at the feeling of Sam’s hand on his body.

When they realized they no longer had enough air to continue kissing, they pulled away, one of Danny’s hands remaining on Sam’s cheek, softly rubbing his thumb over those two freckles he never thought he’d see again. Sam’s eyes were wide, as if he was scared that the second he spoke, the bubble would burst and he’d wake up, that everything that was said and done would be a dream. But it wasn’t, and he saw that Danny was staring at him with the same love and adoration Sam had looked at him with. 

Sam opened his mouth to speak, Danny’s name coming out in a hushed squeak. The drummer shook his head. He had too much to say.

“It’s not crazy. You’re not crazy. I didn’t know you felt like that about me. I thought… I thought you might, but I think I convinced myself I was imagining it, that I wasn’t deserving of it. But it’s not one sided, I promise.”

Sam’s mouth felt dry. He repeated Danny’s words in his head five times, ten times, just to make sure he truly heard him correctly. 

“So you-”

“I love you too, Sammy.”

Sam smiled, a real, genuine smile that reached his eyes. But then his brain focused on everything that had occurred that evening and he was confused, hurt. A frown took over his face and his lips quivered as though he might cry again.

“If you loved me, why were you about to leave me? Why would you- you weren’t even going to tell me?”

It was a valid question, but if Danny was being technical, he had told Sam.

“When I realized you were asleep, I did tell you. You muttered it when you were barely conscious, I didn’t even know if you realized you said it, and it was just loud enough for me to hear. I would’ve said it back right then and there but with what I was about to do, it didn’t seem fair to tell you how I felt and then break your heart.” His head hung between the two of them, the realization that he still would’ve broken Sam’s heart anyway hitting him once he finished speaking.

The room was completely silent for a few minutes, both of them processing everything that had been said, everything that had been done. Danny knew he’d have to rip the bandaid off and finally explain to Sam - and the twins - all of the information he’d been withholding, and he knew Sam wouldn’t rest until he did. But that wouldn’t happen tonight, and yet again, Danny found himself thankful for Sam’s ability to let him do things at his own speed.

“I think we should go to sleep.” Danny nodded at Sam’s suggestion. “But before we do,” Sam leaned forward, pressing his lips against Danny’s again. He’d never get tired of the way his stomach flipped at something as simple as kissing his best friend. “Please don’t let things get to that point again, Dan. I need you to talk to me about everything. Promise me you’re not going anywhere.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Sammy. I promise.”

Sam smiled and moved to hug Danny, the drummer’s arms wrapping around his friend’s slimmer body. The two layed back down, tangling their limbs together as they had on previous nights, and with the knowledge that his love for Sam was reciprocated, and the stubborn belief that things had to get better from that point on, Danny finally felt relaxed. 

For the first time in five years, Danny felt his broken pieces begin to merge, slowly but surely making him feel whole.

And for the first time in five years, Danny slept through the night, the demons of his past and his nightmares nowhere in sight.

-- --

taglist: @ageofnations @obetrolncocktails @greta-flanveet @doodle417 @mollie-gvf @hoeforstevienicks @infisonicosm @gretasmokerising @joshsindigostreak @jakewhorecore @sparrowofthedawnsworld @teddiie @sammiejane22 @gretavanbitches @skankforjakekiszka @fantazmagorical96 @gretavangroove @stardustgreta @gvfrry @myownparadise96 @richjaaasss @mywaykiszka @cyliegvf @dannywagners-chesthair @gretadanfleet @writingcold @gretavanfleas @stardust-jake @maddie-van-fleet @wingedgardener2000 @gardensgatedaisy @earthlysorrows @lvnterninthenight @gabyvanfleet @gretavanferal @sacredthefran @allieisacrybaby @gold-mines-melting @brinlygvf @captainjtk @alyssawatson2003 @malany-gvf @ageofhearingloss @bizzielisteningtogreta @fallonfatality @indigofallingsky @hyperfixated-gvf @twistedmelodies @the-starcatcher @gretavanfreaky

[shingekinomyfeelings]

what you really are // 2nd installment

Reiner finds that his first sexual encounter with a girl he truly cares for brings up a lot of memories and conflicted emotions. Loving a Devil is wrong, right?

warnings: none yet; explicit sex in later installments. characters are cadets here, but aged up to 19. honestly minors dni I'm so tired of y'all reading my porn just go finger paint or something

notes: listen, I've recently learned that Reiner being a tsundere man-baby is very, very funny to me

“They’re not our friends. They’re Eldian devils. I’m just gaining their trust for our advantage.”

Reiner had almost believed himself when he’d said those words to Annie, time and again. It’s easier to pretend he really means it when he’s talking about Eren, or Connie, or Sasha. He can pretend his jovial big brother routine is a mask. He can pretend he doesn’t really care about how much they look up to him, and that the sense of camaraderie is just a facade, most of the time...

But then she’d wiggled into his line of perception, somehow, little by little. Catching one another’s eyes now and then had turned into exchanging smiles, and smiles turned into shared observations, and quiet jokes, and tiny, happy waves upon seeing each other from across the mess hall. And then a feeling had appeared that really troubled him.

At first he had told himself that it wasn’t really happening: pretending that his growing curiosity about her was his merely gathering intelligence; that she was a useful pawn, or a game he was playing; that it didn’t really matter to him when he saw her physically and emotionally exhausted; that the strange, flipping feeling in his stomach the first time she’d hugged him was disgust.

When he realized he couldn’t convince himself, he tried to convince Annie and Bertholdt.

“It’s so troublesome the way she follows me around.”

“She really has a thing for me. Looks like I’ll have to play along, huh?”

“It’s kind of funny that she thinks this is real, isn’t it? It’s a little pitiful when she leans against me, I almost feel sorry for her.”

Gradually, as months passed, his attempts grew in some sort of petty desperation.

“I’ve spent so much time with her, I’ll be pissed off if nothing useful comes out of it.”

“Did you hear her joking around today? I had a hard time pretending to laugh.”

“She’s not as cute as Thomas always thinks she is.”

“She hugged me again and it almost made my skin crawl. Eldian devils really are totally different from other humans.”

“Sounds like you’ll really be relieved when she’s eaten alive on her first expedition outside the walls,” Annie had finally said one night, her voice caustic and bored. “Maybe you’ll even get to see it. But, if she survives and you’re disappointed, I can crush her in one hand for you. Touching her won’t make my skin crawl.”

Her impassive gaze when Reiner turned to her with a defensive fury only made him even angrier, and he’d stomped off into the night, aiming a splintering kick at the fence post Annie had been leaning against.

Still, he hasn’t complained to them about the girl since then.

When outright denial had failed him, Reiner had tried to simply will the girl out of his life, which had been an unmitigated disaster, because after nearly two weeks of him avoiding her gaze, excusing himself when he saw her approach, and even once or twice making a point to talk over her as if by mistake when she spoke, she went and turned it right back on him.

During training one afternoon, Annie had thrown her, far harder than she needed to. Whether it was deliberately to provoke him or out of simple meanness, Reiner wasn’t sure. She’d rolled to her feet and shaken herself off, looking at Annie with wonder.

“Can you teach me how to do that?”

Maybe neither one of them saw the way Reiner had started towards her to check on her, stopping himself short after three paces, nor the way Reiner’s face fell when he greeted her with concern after training, only to have her breeze by him as she talked to Annie as if he weren’t there.

It seemed less likely that she didn’t see him when he laughed a little too loudly at a joke she made in passing during dinner the following night at the mess hall, and he knew she saw him when he tried very hard to act casual two days later as he stepped out of a corridor at just the right moment for her to nearly collide with him, but even then she had just blinked as if he were merely a door flung open in her path, and sidestepped to walk towards Connie and Sasha with a cheerful wave.

After four days of this, he had waited to catch her leaving one of Hanji’s lectures and followed her down the hallway, while she acted like there wasn’t a huge guy trailing behind her like a dog with its tail tucked.

“Ah- listen, I just-- if I’ve done something to offend you, I--” The words had died on his lips as she turned to him in an instant, face flushed with anger, and then she’d layed into him like he was a training dummy, except that instead of with blades, she proceeded to eviscerate him verbally right there in the hallway. If he’d looked like a dog with its tail tucked beforehand, he was sure he’d looked like something a dog had chewed to pieces by the time she’d finished.

Well, maybe it wasn’t a completely unmitigated disaster, he figured later, because in that moment, acceptance of the situation had finally hit him like a brick, and he’d apologized, and stammered, and said a few things that barely made sense, and finally confessed his feelings with an utter lack of grace in the middle of the hall.

She’d looked at him with an uncomfortable stare, and then told him to get bent and walked away.

A day or two later, though, as he’d wallowed in the kind of dejected, confused misery that can only be brought on by acting like a jackass in front of one’s love interest, she’d met his gaze and greeted him tersely in passing. And then, much like before, small things like that turned into bigger things, and one day she’d kocked him to the ground during training with a technique he’d seen Annie use a thousand times, and while he was breathless in the dirt, she’d confessed her feelings, too – albiet with a degree of raw annoyance in her voice instead of an apology.

“I really wanted to tell you, right around the time you started being a dick, you know.”

“I uh... yeah, I know. I’m so sorry...” His meek voice and utterly abashed expression had made her laugh after a moment, and she’d offered her hand to help him to his feet.

“I’m not still mad about that,” she tells him with a lopsided grin, amused when he apologizes for it yet again. “That was months ago. It’s kind of funny now.”

“Uhh, glad you think so? It wasn’t one of my better moments.”

“I know, you were being so fucking stupid. But, it made me realize you weren’t as perfect as everyone thinks you are.” She laughs when he fixes her with a deep pout. “I mean that in a good way, quit making that face. You always seemed so out of reach, like someone who could only really be matched up with somebody... ideal. Like the couples you see in picture books.”

He watches her say this with what he thinks is a cool, interested expression, but his eyes are clearly asking what the hell that means. She gives a little huff of what might be amusement or mild exasperation.

“I just didn’t think you’d really be interested in someone who’s...” She trails off, suddenly unsure how she wants to finish that sentence. Reiner doesn’t wait for her to decide, though, ruffling her hair over her face with his hand, pulling her close and pressing his lips to her temple. He doesn’t say anything, just sighs very, very softly against her, and she lets him stay that way for a moment before pushing her hair out of her face and lifting a hand to gently brush the backs of her fingers along his cheekbone.

“I was kind of relieved to see you really are just a regular, flawed person like the rest of us are.”

It makes his heart flutter a bit, but for a reason he can’t quite pinpoint, it makes him sad, too...

[likeastars]

Yandere!AU and Ada's no good, very bad day.

For @incorrect-nevermore that told me that otherwise she would take the band!AU in the divorce >:(

Warning: this gets fucked up. Pretty bloody and horny because they are my blorbos and they have every disease 💝💖💕💕💗💝💖💘

~~~

Annabel has an horrendous bite etched onto the skin.

That's not the first thing she notices, obviously. That's reserved for Lenore, slouching on the other woman's shoulder, her face cut by a tiny grin and her brows a bit scrunched, as she whispers and giggles in her hear.

But then the bite becomes visible and. Wow. (It's a bad wow. It's a very bad wow and she feels sick)

She can see it from a distance, ugly and red, sprouting from Annabel's unbuttoned blouse and hastily thrown on jacket. There are still droplets of blood slowly making their way from her pulse point down her shoulder.

And Montresor knew it, and even if Montresor was the worst of the worst he knew it and he said it, that between them they had something absolutely and truly and incomparably

Fucked.

But Montresor has been gone for a long time now, and nobody knows how or where or why.

(Students say that if you go near the ex-magazine on the first floor you can still hear his screams. She thinks they should stop talking about it because otherwise Annabel will make them)

Ada tries to make peace with the situation as quickly as she can: she just has to make her way down the corridor, enter her room (good God she doesn't want to know the state her room is in) and act like she hasn't witnessed the most unholy thing in her life.

Then she locks eyes with Annabel.

And she feels like swearing for the second time that evening.

The blonde gets a bit of a crease on her forehead, but she leisurely makes her way towards her, like it's alright. Like it's normal.

She laughs with Lenore, and the dark-haired outcast throws a "hey Ada!" In her direction. Her tone is kind (she is always kind, even with cowards like her) but she looks... weird. She's still leaning heavily on Annabel and she feels like her hears are there only to capture her every word and every breath and her eyes to track and drink and worship every movement of her body.

She looks drunk.

Drunk on her.

"You're just the woman I wanted to see, love! I wanted to discuss a little... situation with you." Lenore snorts and Annabel stops breathing for a second just to bask in the sound.

Ew.

"Can't you wait until tomorrow?" A glare. "I-I know that if you sought me out you must have something important to discuss but..." she forces out a yawn as one last desperate attempt to just go to sleep and forget this nightmare of an evening. "I'm pretty tired and I'm afraid I wouldn't give it the attention it deserves." She cracks out an apologetic smile, for good measure.

The crease in Annabel's forehead is more evident now.

Ada is not keeping count of the swears anymore.

"Bu- but, obviously, what you have to say comes first!" It doesn't. It really doesn't and she has to bite down her lip to not let the tears spill.

Annabel, luckily, smiles. Ada hopes.

"Good!" She says, then she claps her hands like Ms. Poppet before she gives merits. "You see, my darling pet here," she pops a bit the p and Lenore nuzzles into her a bit more, "was telling me all about your recent attempts at... befriending her. She even mentioned a striking collaboration between the two of you in the "Mistery Manor" and..."

Her expression crumples.

"I don't like it."

Fuck fuck fuck FUCK they have sorrounded her. While spouting sugar coated words they have sorrounded her and she feels her breath become heavy heavy heavy and there is no

goddamned

way out of their grasp.

She dies tonight. Of that, she is sure.

(And has been sure of for a while).

"Calm down love!" Annabel's hand on her shoulder feels like poison seeping under her skin. Her smile is so fake she feels like puking.

"You see, my pet is really attached to her little group of friends." Annabel caresses Lenore's cheekbone as she talks, "and as much as that irritates me," she's fucking scratching it now and Ada feels herself go paler, because Lenore is loving it.

"I would do anything, anything, to keep my pet happy." They are looking in each other's eyes now.

Annabel takes a drop of blood from Lenore's cheek and looks at it like it's a treasure.

Then she licks. It. Off.

"So," she keeps going why does she keep going "say it."

It isn't an order. It's divine judgement.

Lenore talks for the first time in this insane conversation, asking: "are you my friend, Ada?"

And Ada thinks and thinks and thinks of Montresor's growls as he said to stay away from Lenore, of laughter, of Morella's worried eyes and of Annabel's freezing glare but she also doesn't.

This life, or death.

She begs, between the tears and the sobs, blurting out: "yes! Yes- sure, without doubt, I care for you so much Lenore I-"

BANG!

The bullet crushes her skull and bludgeons her brain and Ada falls on the floor cracking what was left of her head in a disgusting, apocalyptic, and final

CRUNCH.

It was the wrong answer.

Ada is no more.

The other orbs it the forest tell her what happened next, because they are eyes and they are ears and they are all.

They tell her that Annabel worriedly cupped Lenore's face, with tender hands still dirty of blood, and she asked: "but wasn't she one of your little playthings, Lenore?" And that Lenore threw her gun away and gently took those killer hands in hers, correcting her,  "Friends, my darling." then curing the thunder of anger the correction caused with a kiss on the sweet skin of her wrist. "I love my friends a lot, and you know that." A peck on the forearm, "I would die for them," on the shoulder, "kill for them." on the neck. "But for you, Annabel Lee,"

She nibbled on the soft soft skin of her ear. "I would burn the world down."

Annabel ended up backed against the wall of the corridor, her boots on Ada's cold fingers and her breath ragged.

Their mouths were so close they were burning while their eyes were already tasting what was to come, when Lenore whispered:

"She, was neither. She wasn't worth a single crinkle of your brows."

And Ada has been mocked many times, but that was maybe the one that cut the most.

They kissed, voraciously. Like animals, touching and biting and scratching, hands getting hungrier and hungrier, and bodies rowdy and loud in a tango of damning love.

Then the orbs, that were all, that saw all, that witnessed wild monsters and an even more monstrous academy, start shivering, and hesitating.

They tell her, in what feels like a whisper, that while the women were undressing, the spirits saw their backs, in that hall.

Haunted backs, they say.

They were full of red from cuts, and blue from bruises, and a sickly, rotten orange from badly healed burns. Words were scarred onto their skin, and they looked like wedding vows.

Then Lenore and Annabel retreated into her room, and the spirits refuse to tell her more.

[samdragons-official-art]

I'm bringing this back around for reasons

Consider this a Gargoyle Ingo masterpost for now until I get around to actually organizing anything I make

If y'all wondering where this thought originated from, you can look to this art post I made last year (will edit later off mobile) https://www.tumblr.com/samdragons-official-art/701409263045787648/i-do-not-control-the-hyperfixations-they-control?source=share

Gargoyle Ingo started when I entered into two different fandoms at relatively the same time: obviously submas as a whole, and the cartoon series Gargoyles. My sister got me the entire DVD collection as part of a Christmas and birthday gift, and I got PLA soon after. And honestly, with how crazy things get in the Gargoyles universe, everything I'll say here would likely just be another regular Tuesday for the characters.

Basics of the au:

•Akari reminds Arceus that Ingo shouldn't be in Hisui and asks to send the train man home. Unfortunately, this is another au where Arceus has terrible aim and yeets Ingo into New York in the 80's, in a reality where creatures like the fae and Gargoyles exist, hidden away from human knowledge

•Lots of fights between the fae and the Manhatten clan of gargoyles have left the area saturated with fae magic.

•Ingo immediately comes into contact with said magic and gets turned into a gargoyle. Train man now has to deal with not only being in the wrong time and place, but also the wrong body

•He gets found and brought in by the Manhattan clan through their human friend Eliza and attempts to adjust (he is a scared, confused, and bewildered lil train man)

•Come sunrise, while the regular gargoyles freeze into sleeping statues, Ingo turns back into a human. He remains human while the sun is up, and becomes a gargoyle again when it goes down (There are characters who do this in the show, so really, Ingo is not the first guy to do this)

•During the day, Eliza helps Ingo navigate the city and look for leads to get back home

•At night, Ingo just tries his best to stay out of trouble. Which is nigh impossible as he is a magnet for trouble

•Also one sneasel hitched a ride with him to the Gargoyle world. His name is Pecha due to a pecha berry shaped birthmark on his back. He causes the majority of trouble that Ingo finds himself in every night

•Eventually, Akari finds out that Arceus missed with the yeetening, teams up with Emmet, and tells Arceus to yeet them over as well

•Haven't decided if they get creechure treatment too or not. I think it would be funnier if they didn't tbh

•The au overall deals with themes of body disphoria on Ingo's part, but is also meant to have a heavy dose of comedy thrown in as well (I am physically incapable of not writing humor in anything I make)

•Gargoyles itself deals with many dark themes throughout the show, while accidentally falling into humor with just how outlandish some of the plots can be (I truly love them for that, though)

•I have a wip fic that I more or less forgot about until recently. I will only share it with folks I deem as friends who ask me

(Ref for gargle Ingo I made on the left, and official Gargoyles art from the comics on the right)

[ownedbythescribe]

Kaedehara Kazuha | Not For You

ıllı Synopsis: Letting go of what you think is the best thing of your life can be hard. But, fate has something in store for you. A better future you would not even expect.

ıllı Genre: Angst, Comfort

ıllı Notes: Gender Neutral Reader

ıllı A/N: Just a short story before I take a break. It’s a bit of self-indulgent too. Sometimes, loving somebody can hurt, but we have to take a deep breath and look past that pain.

Autumn, the season when the leaves turn from verdant green to alluring shades of crimson red and vermillion. They languidly fall to the ground as the wind gets a bit chiller, pricking at anyone’s sensitive skin. Breathing in frigid air feels like drinking mint juice, a cool sensation harrows through the chest. It may be nice to some but for others.

Glancing up, you reached your hand to take the fallen maple leaf. It was a shame that so many goodbyes seemed to happen when autumn came, whether between family, friends, or lovers.

“And maybe, it’s time for me to say mine as well.” You muttered, watching the figures not far from you frolic by the sea. Both their eyes shone with adoration and happiness, feelings that he would never reciprocate. Not when he had already found the one he wished to be with for the rest of his life.

You stared at the maple leaf in your hand and thought about the subtle changes in your relationship. It was vague when it started, but eventually, you drifted apart from each other. Hazily remembering their first encounter, you suspected that it must have been love at first sight.

Your friend sent you a letter that the Yae Publishing House accepted her as a new writer. You recalled being ecstatic about it because that would mean she would be moving to Inazuma. When she arrived, you toured her around, introducing her to locals and prominent people in the country. It only took one smile for her to pierce the heart of Kamisato Ayato.

“Delighted to meet you, Miss. I hope you enjoy your stay in Inazuma. Should you require assistance, please don’t hesitate to inquire Thoma about it.” He offered. It was pretty strange for Ayato to proffer help to strangers. You thought that he was just being kind.

Each week, you saw them meet up with each other. There were even rumors that the Yashiro Commissioner fancied the new writer as they would be seen dining together and enjoying their private time. It pained your heart to know the man you loved for years fell for a woman he had recently met. All your efforts to remember his favorite food, place, and gifts were thrown out the window.

In the end, Ayato officially asked her to become his lover. The news circulated around Inazuma. Many were devastated that the elegant and attractive Kamisato Head was already taken. Some sent envious looks their way, but his periwinkle eyes were only set on your friend’s. You were forgotten to the sides. Like a toy he had grown out of.

“If I become selfish and tell you my feelings, I will be forever hated. So, I will try to let go. But can I truly let go?” You uttered to the wind. You wanted to be angry, yell at him that you loved him for years, and ask him why he could not look at you. But his eyes said it all. He had a gleam in them that said, ‘Ah, she’s the one. I mustn’t let her go’.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and one by one, they fell like rain on a stormy night. Your chest felt tight at the ache. As he departed from your grasp, he also took with him a part of you who dedicated their selves to a man of his standing.

A shaky sigh left your lips as you let go of the maple leaf and his last gift in your hand. You watched the water carry it away, far from your sight. Suddenly, a handkerchief appeared in front of you. You looked up to see a man with platinum blond hair, a red streak on the side, and soft crimson eyes. A kind smile was etched on his face. He reminded you of maple trees, not just because of his outfit but because of his aura. He sat by your side and asked.

“Tears do not suit you, Milady, but if I may, why do you weep?” He was gentle with his words. You dabbed your face with his handkerchief and ruefully answered.

“I just let go of what I thought was the best thing in my life. How can I be all right?” There was a light deride in your tone in the end, one you did not mean. He understood where the hostility was coming from.

“Fate must have led you somewhere else. To someone better, one who completes the emptiness in your heart. Fate is fickle, but its intricacy is beautiful.” He retorted.

You were silenced. It was as if the heartache was washed away by Kazuha's alacrity and confidence. It felt like he had been with fate for years. He understood the reason why somebody’s life was weaved the way it was. His flowery words mended the fissure of your heart. Taking in a deep breath, you turned to him.

“You may be right, but it still hurt. I’m not sure how long I will heal, but I know I can try and be happy for them. Thank you, dear stranger.” You smiled. His crimson eyes creased in delight.

“Kazuha. Kaedehara Kazuha is my name, Milady.” Kazuha replied. You stood up and gave him your name. He was happy to learn your name but more to see that your heart felt at ease. No more turbulent storms were raging in you. The wind whispered that the emotions in you were clouds of acceptance and rays of hope.

“If I may be so bold, do you wish to take a stroll with me through the Chinju Forest, (Y/N)? The bakedanukis might be out for their tricks, but the place is a beauty.” He invited. There were thousands of words dancing in his eyes that you were drawn to. You took his hand and reflected the smile on his lips.

“I’ll take you on that offer.” You grinned. The wind blew between you two, and you found yourself looking forward to meeting him again after this day. Be it in your dreams or by the same beach he found you.

This meeting was a small bud waiting to blossom. Whether it was love or simply friendship, only time could tell. There was no need to rush as the scars of previous affection and longing remained fresh. If anything else, this made you realize that there was a suitable time and person for everything.

Please do not copy or repost my stories, but notes and reblogs are always appreciated!