tokyonightskies
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Easier to bury all those unresolved feelings too–Heero doesn't want anything under his skin but meat, blood and bone.
As far as he's considered, and there was constant consideration, still, these emotions simply aren't allowed the space to breathe. Not even in the moments stripped bare of professionalism, like that one time he held her hair when it was windy out as she tried to bite into her cream cheese and salmon bagel. Crumbs all over the sidewalk, her gaze searching, then holding his. Or those five minutes in-between his security debrief and her fundraiser; Relena putting small square patches to the scent glands in her neck and on her wrists before heading out. Unobscured, her scent would leave him dizzy sometimes.
Heero could find her blind, and has memorized every note: cream, iris, vanilla bean.
.or i wrote this possessed by the spirit of my fifteen year-old self...
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leave it to the land (this is what it knows) by tokyonightskies
Fandoms: Final Fantasy XIV
02 Dec 2022
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"There's always next time!" Jammingway offered cheerfully, doing that weird little dance where he rubbed his paws together, fast like a cartwheel spinning. It took the Loporrit a while to warm up to his presence, but when he finally did, he clung to Zenos like a child would a blanket. "With all the work we have left to do here to keep this café up and running, he's bound to return soon!"
Zenos didn't deign to reply and instead took a slow sip of his carrot juice. His modest collection of tools was placed in a sturdy leather bag on the floor, next to the barstool, where he sat hunched over, every inch the disgruntled patron. Alone with his private agonies. At ear-pressure depth, hidden behind shimmers of headache, the face of the Warrior lingered. His innards felt raw, pulled taut, when he daydreamed about those features, a peculiar sensation since the details behind their relationship were hidden in the gap of his memory. If he didn’t drown out his thoughts with monotony, he could’ve named the feeling, loss and something else besides.
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or Elysion spits Zenos back out of an early grave.
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There's such an insurmountable distance between what Zero first uttered to you in the damp cellars of the fell court and what she'd said just now that the disconnect leaves you reeling. White-knuckled, your grip on your forearm turns painful. You want to dig your nails in, prod at the hurt a little like you sometimes tongued an aching tooth. It's not so efficient a distraction, not like getting into fistfights with gods or dungeon-diving an ancient research facility turned prison, but it would have to do.
Something of that discomfort must've shown on your face because Zero inclines her head and asks, "Did you mourn him?"
She punctuates the verb with an uncertain pause, narrowing her eyes in a way that's so wholly reminiscent of him you almost choke on the familiarity. Her expression then irons out, flattened and bolted down into a death mask once more.
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or the wol and zero discuss the dead man in the room.
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"You're ruminating."
His gaze flicks away from the classified reports on his desk. She's leaning against the doorframe, her ankles crossed and her mouth curved at the corner. With the shoes she's wearing, Varis is surprised he hasn't heard her approach.
"Contemplating." He corrects her, succinct like a single strikethrough of his pen. Neat and steady.
"Brooding," she says, pushing into the study proper. Stalking closer with the grace and economy of a large cat. Her eyes, fever-bright in the dim, sweep over the broad span of his shoulders, and she adds, "Again."
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or zenos takes after his mother.
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His chest heaved and fell in quick, rushed breaths. The corners of Zenos' mouth curled up in a sly, dangerous smile, cutting the tension between them, and he settled his foot flush against Bujira's flank.
Zenos came to straddle him then, trailing gauntleted fingers over Ame-no-Habakiri's hilt and blade as he sank down on one knee. Sunlight slashed across his face. Bujira couldn't look away; goosebumps dimpling the flesh of his arms at the sudden proximity. Sweat trickled down his throat, into the hollow of his collarbone, yet he shivered when Zenos tipped his head to the side and appraised him. Instead of hunting for escapes, Bujira remained frozen under that intense gaze.
"Gone docile in my absence already, have you?."
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or the inherent eroticism of being entirely at your enemy's mercy.
Recent bookmarks
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Aymeric had long known he would die at his calling, with the sense of one who was attuned to the spirits and fully at peace with his fate. He was young yet, though. He had not faced much more than a few possessions, and lingering ghosts who had needed more comfort than chastisement to leave in peace.
He knew someday he would face far more. He was not afraid.
Series
- Part 1 of Say No
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Amon, over the years, sadly so, has lost his faith in many people and principles he once kept close to his heart. But even so he remains a true believer in Good Old Fashioned morning lovin'. Sasaki, too, agrees wholeheartedly, although the Quinx Squad is not on board.
Bookmarked by tokyonightskies
06 May 2017
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After a string of unsuccessful attempts at conception and Sasuke moving in, Itachi and Izumi finally manage proper sex-- with a little help.