#the drabble that started it all

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Mary Harrington finally gives up one day, boards a plane home alone knowing that her husband is likely already in bed with a woman ten years younger than her. For the first time in her life, she doesn't feel hurt. Only mildly disgusted, maybe with herself too.

She arrives in Hawkins to ruins that are slowly getting rebuilt, smoke almost cleared, and weird whispers about her son and his new friend, the trailer trash Eddie Munson. Something about being too close, too intimate for two men. She feels the familiar disdain, the words "what would your father think" - and then exhales and lets them go. She is past caring about Richard Harrington.

Instead, she sits down with them. She is honest, she was in love once and she knows those eyes - Steve's look like her own, after all. Behind the adoration, she sees the darkness in Steve's face, the pain, and thinks - I couldn't fix my husband, but I can fix this. She gently asks them both if anyone has been giving them trouble. When she hears several familiar names of local God-fearing women, she laughs for the first time in what feels like forever. "Leave them to me," she says.

She stops by for coffee. Chats a little. Gently opens the topic of the rumors about her son. And then: "I understand, Linda. Homosexuality is a sin. What a funny thing, one could say the same about fucking my husband last spring. Of course, it's been so long...I'm sure your husband knows?" One by one, the rumors quiet down and Mary's smile grows into its old radiance.

The first evening back, she summons all the remaining rage, disappointment and sadness over wasted years, poking at old wounds until she's sobbing. And like that, she calls Richard and wails into the phone how everything is destroyed, their house almost gone, and gently guides Richard to the brilliant idea of signing over the small flat in the center he's been renting to Steve. She knows Richard has no patience for her emotions, and she sobs out how Steve has been fixing the town, how he'd become everything Richard had ever wanted, a true pillar of the community, but he has nowhere to sleep, oh how it's breaking her heart, what would the town think-

He promises to send over his lawyer the next day. She thanks him through the tears, says one last "I love you" and with the click of the ended call, dries her tears and pours herself a glass of wine. "How did I do?" she asks.

Steve just laughs and hands her a cheese plate he's been preparing in the kitchen. He nudges Eddie who is staring with wide eyes. "What?" asks Steve with a smirk. "You've always admired my bitchiness and pragmatism. Where do you think I got it from?"

The flat is signed over the next day. Mary kisses her son and Eddie goodbye - she would go back to her parents for a while, she says, just to get the divorce finalized. Plus, one of her old friends still seems interested, her being the one that got away and all that, and Mary intends to test that theory. She will keep in touch, she says. And for the first time, Steve believes her.

[hyruling]

omggggggg 58 + 60 for the intimacy prompts mwah mwah mwah 🥰🥰🥰

60. sitting in their lap

—

“Dude. I know you heard me call seat check.”

Chim shrugs, tucked into Buck’s spot between Eddie and Maddie on the couch, smugly eating the popcorn that Buck and Eddie had been sharing before he got up to pee. “I heard no such thing.”

“You’re blocking the TV,” Ravi complains, but Buck ignores him. 

“Come on, you all heard me. I was only gone for like, three minutes.”

“Wife privilege trumps seat check rules,” Chim argues, tossing popcorn in his mouth with a shit eating grin. He wraps his free arm around Maddie, who’s focused on the movie and studiously ignoring them both. 

“That’s not a thing—”

“It is when it’s our first night out of the house since the baby was born,” Chim argues. “Or I could use the captain card if you prefer.”

“Abuse of power,” Ravi mutters, and Buck points to him excitedly. 

“Yes, exactly, thank you Ravi!”

“I think you should use it though,” Ravi continues to Chim, and Buck gapes while Chim does a stupid fist pump. “We’re missing the climax of the movie dude. Just sit on the floor.”

“Easy for you to say from your high horse in the comfy armchair. The floor is hard on my leg,” Buck says. It’s only half true, but he’ll use whatever excuse he can to win one over on his brother in law. 

“You sit on the floor all the time,” Hen interjects from her spot on the loveseat, curled up cozily with Karen, also ignoring them. 

“Irrelevant,” Buck says with a dismissive gesture. “The point is, I called seat check, and what kind of society are we if we can’t even respect the sanctity of—”

And Eddie, who until now had been silently observing with an amused grin, rolls his eyes and sighs, “Dios, come here.”

He wraps a big hand around Buck’s wrist and tugs until he has nowhere to go but Eddie’s lap. Buck falls limply down, trying not to crush him at the last second by throwing an arm across the back of the couch. Eddie situates him across his legs, his back against the armrest next to Eddie, and if he weren’t struck so dumb by the whole thing he would put his feet in Chim’s face just to be annoying. 

“Happy now?” Eddie mutters in his ear.

“Uh,” Buck says intelligently. 

Eddie’s hand settles on his knee, the other resting behind Buck’s back along the armrest. Everyone’s eyes are on them when Buck looks up, but Eddie’s are on the screen. His cheeks are a little pink, but otherwise he appears normal. 

“Wow,” Chim says after a minute. “An instant Buck-Off button.”

“Shhh,” Eddie hushes him before Buck has a chance. “Some of us are watching the movie.”

Chim shakes his head with a short laugh and finally turns his attention back to the screen, and the rest of the room follows suit.

Buck is, ostensibly, also watching the movie, but he has no idea what’s happening. Gun to his head he couldn’t name a single actor in it, despite having watched the last hour and a half before Eddie rewired his synapses. All he can focus on is Eddie, the feel of his chest rising and falling against his arm, his thumb rubbing unconscious little circles against Buck’s elbow, the heavy weight of his hand on his knee.

“You okay?” Eddie whispers after who knows how long, quiet in Buck’s ear. 

Buck turns. Eddie’s eyes are dark in the dim room, his face much closer than Buck anticipated. He nods and tries to get a grip, though Eddie must be able to feel the way his heart is beating with the arm tucked around his back. 

“Yeah, I’m great,” he answers softly. 

“Sure? I can sit on the floor, if you’d rather not—”

Buck is shaking his head before he can finish the sentence. “No, no, this is — yeah, this is perfect.”

Perfect? He cringes internally, but Eddie isn’t fazed in the slightest. In fact he smiles, soft and pleased and all for Buck, and his heart rate kicks up another notch. 

They finish the movie twenty minutes later. Buck’s had to pee for a good fifteen of that, but he refused to get up — he doesn’t have the kind of luck that will afford him a second chance at this. He doesn’t even get up when everyone else stands to stretch and refill their drinks, perfectly content to stay where he is for as long as Eddie will allow it. 

Similarly, Eddie doesn’t push him off the second it becomes acceptable to do so. In fact he encourages Buck to stretch his legs out on the couch with a silent pat on his thigh.

“Am I crushing you?” Buck asks when they’re the only ones still in the room. 

Eddie shakes his head and gives his knee a squeeze. “Nah. You’re kind of like a weighted blanket.”

Buck flushes and looks away. Feels ridiculous, like he’s fifteen again and being flirted with by Cassie McDaniel in homeroom — except they’re in their thirties, and Eddie isn’t flirting. He’s just being Eddie. The New Eddie, as Buck has coined it in his head; the one that came back from El Paso with a twinkle in his eye that Buck can’t quite parse. He’s the same old Eddie but lighter, somehow — more free with his touches and casual affection in a way that Buck very much enjoys, despite the way it’s slowly driving him insane.

Like now, for instance.

“Your ass is kinda bony though.”

Buck scoffs, affronted, and Eddie laughs. His hand tightens on Buck’s knee when he tries to shift his weight off Eddie’s thighs. “Didn’t say you needed to move.”

“Well I’d hate for my bony ass to dig into your perfect thighs.”

“Perfect, huh?” Eddie teases, and there’s that fucking twinkle again.

“Mediocre. Above average. I know you skip leg day at least once a week.”

“How many times can we have this argument?”

“It’s not an argument, it’s a healthy discussion.”

“Core strength is more important than having huge biceps, and as a firefighter, you should understand that—”

“Well those huge biceps have saved a lot of people, didn’t hear them complaining.”

“I’m definitely not complaining either, but my point is—”

“Are you two gonna cuddle on my couch all night?”

They look up to see Hen standing over them, hands on her hips and brow raised suspiciously. 

“Maybe,” Eddie says before Buck can come up with anything. “You got something to say about it?”

“Only that you have your own house to be weird in,” she says with an eye roll. “And that Buck promised to help clean after the fiasco with the fondue last month.”

“Shit, I did,” Buck says, gingerly getting up so he doesn’t hurt Eddie with his bony ass. Eddie squeezes his hip as he goes though and nearly sends him sprawling. He just blinks innocently up at Buck when he whirls on him, self-satisfied little smile on his face that Buck wants to—

Nope. Not going there. He trails off after Hen and decidedly does not think about it. 

He doesn’t think about it when Eddie comes in to help clean, hip checking him at the sink. Or when they say their goodbyes to everyone at the door, and Eddie presses little smacking kisses to Karen and Hen and Maddie’s cheeks that he pretends he’s not wildly jealous of. Or when Eddie leads him to the truck with a hand on his lower back, and keeps it there until Buck rounds the hood to the drivers seat. He doesn’t think about it on the drive home, Eddie quiet in that way he gets sometimes after one too many drinks, and he definitely doesn’t stare at Eddie’s ‘perfect’ thighs when he changes into his sleep shorts and sinks onto the couch next to Buck. 

“That was fun,” Eddie says, relaxing until his head rests on the back of the couch.

“Yeah. Super fun.”

It’s quiet again, only sound coming from the TV playing on low. Buck keeps his eyes glued to it, though he’s not taking in a single thing Mrs. Brady is saying. 

“You’re thinking pretty loud over there bud,” Eddie says during a commercial break. 

Buck chances a look at him, and it’s a mistake. He looks so soft, relaxed against the cushions, wearing a baggy tank and shorts that ride up well above what Buck would consider an appropriate length. Buck looks quickly away. 

“Hey. I didn’t make you uncomfortable earlier, did I?” Eddie asks.

“No,” Buck answers, and forces himself to make eye contact. Eddie looks a little unsure, and Buck quickly shakes his head. “No, I told you it was fine, I promise, I just. I’m tired, I guess. Karen’s sangria always sneaks up on me.”

Eddie nods. “Yeah I know. Wanna share the bed tonight?” 

Buck flushes, and this time it’s definitely not dark enough for Eddie not to notice. It shouldn’t be a big deal — they’ve shared the bed a few times since Eddie and Chris came home, usually after a particularly grueling shift where their exhaustion ran too deep to tolerate the couch, and it’s been fine.

Only the last time it happened, he woke up to Eddie curled around his back, hand curled possessively in the front pocket of his hoodie. And in his half-conscious state Buck had thought, this is how I want to wake up everyday. He’s avoided sharing ever since. 

“Nah, couch—couch is fine,” Buck stutters. 

“Buck. Come on, talk to me, what’s got you so freaked?”

“I’m not freaked,” Buck lies, and turns back to the TV. “I’m not. Just. Brain is too loud tonight, I guess.”

He sees Eddie nod in his peripheral. “Well, I wasn’t kidding earlier you know.”

“About what?”

“You feeling like a weighted blanket,” Eddie clarifies. 

Buck’s head snaps to the left. Eddie looks serious as a heart attack — which, incidentally, Buck may be currently having. 

“So…”

“So,” Eddie echoes.

He inches closer until their thighs are touching. Buck watches in a weird sort of trance as Eddie twists and swings a leg over, hovering above Buck’s thighs. “This okay?”

Buck unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth and says, “Yeah—yes. Yeah.”

Eddie smiles and sits fully, and then they’re just staring at each other. Buck keeps his hands firmly to himself, while Eddie’s rest comfortably on Buck’s shoulders. 

“See what I mean?”

Buck blinks, remembers the weird metaphor they’re operating under. “Um, sort of. You’re only—I-I mean there’s only weight on my legs.”

“Good point.”

Slowly, as if he’s anticipating Buck to call their game of chicken and push him off, Eddie leans forward and wraps his arms around Buck’s shoulders, pressing their chests together. Buck feels his chin dig sharp into his shoulder before he adjusts and lays his cheek against his collarbone. 

“How’s that?” Eddie asks, slightly muffled. 

Buck inhales, feels Eddie move with him on the exhale, and it’s — well, Eddie wasn’t lying. Eddie lets his full weight press against Buck and it's comforting, to say the least. Electrifying, because it’s Eddie, and yet as the minutes pass he can feel his heart rate slow, his breathing ease. He feels their chests rise and fall together, Eddie’s warm weight settling him in a way nothing has in a long time — maybe ever. His mind goes pleasantly blank, even when one of Eddie’s hands starts to comb through the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“It’s nice,” Buck answers belatedly, and Eddie chuckles at the sleepy timbre of his voice. “I see what you mean.”

“Right?” Eddie says, scratching gently at his scalp, and it feels so good he melts even deeper into the couch cushions. “You can touch me too, you know.”

“Oh,” Buck mutters, and picks his hands up from where they’d been resting awkwardly next to Eddie’s thighs. He wraps them tentatively around Eddie’s back; Eddie makes a contented humming sound in response. 

They stay that way for a long time, until the late night rerun ends and another episode begins. Buck’s hands drift after awhile, smoothing up and down Eddie’s back slowly, thumbs rubbing circles against his scapula and vertebrae. 

“Hey Eddie.”

He’s half asleep, and Eddie is so big and warm in his arms, and it makes him reckless. Eddie’s ear is so close to Buck’s mouth he can whisper what he hasn’t dared speak out loud. 

“Yeah Buck?” Eddie says just as softly. 

“I need to tell you something. No – don’t, don’t get up.” He wraps a hand around the back of Eddie’s neck to keep him still. 

Eddie huffs but stays put. “You’re not about to tell me you’re moving, are you?”

There’s such an air of dread and petulance in his tone that Buck laughs. 

“No. Didn’t, uh, know you had such strong feelings about that.”

“Well. I do.”

“It’s not that,” Buck says, and Eddie exhales against his neck. “But you might, uh—you might want me to when I—”

“No I won’t,” Eddie interrupts, leaving no room for argument. “Tell me.” 

Buck swallows, hard enough that Eddie must hear it. But he waits patiently, one of his thumbs tracing figure eights on the back of Buck’s neck, and for some reason that is what finally breaks through his thinly guarded veneer.

“I think I’m in love with you.” 

The figure eight stutters to a stop, but Eddie doesn’t move an inch. If anything, he covers Buck with his weight even more, somehow, and Buck feels his nose brush his clavicle. 

“And you think I want you to move out because of that?” 

“I—well, maybe, I don’t want to make you feel—I don’t know. Actually, can we pretend I didn’t say anything?” 

“No,” Eddie says. And then nothing else. 

“I—Eddie you gotta—you gotta say something. Tell me to fuck off, or that it’ll never happen but you value our friendship anyway, o-or that nothing will change between us—”

“Hmm, no. None of those sound like me.” 

“You literally said that last one. Basically verbatim, less than a year ago.” 

“Yeah, but I was lying then. I don’t want to lie to you again.” 

“Eddie, come on, what does that me—” 

But in one swift move Eddie sits up, catches Buck’s face between his hands, and kisses him. 

It’s a short kiss, a dry brush of slightly chapped lips, but it manages to alter his entire worldview in the five or so seconds it last before Eddie pulls away. Buck gets a brief glimpse of his pink cheeks before he tucks his head back against Buck’s shoulder. 

“There you go sweetheart,” Eddie mumbles, voice drawling the way it does when he’s tired. “My knees have about another five minutes of this before I need to get up, let's not waste them.” 

“Okay,” Buck says in a ragged voice that doesn’t quite sound like his. A voice belonging to a mouth that has kissed Eddie Diaz, and therefore irrevocably changed. 

True to his word, Eddie continues to crush him into the couch for another five minutes, until his racing heart slows again and their eyes are half-lidded and drowsy when Eddie sits up. 

“That was nice,” he says with a smile.

“Y-yeah, it was,” Buck agrees, squeezing Eddie’s thighs. “Same time tomorrow?”

Eddie huffs out a little laugh, and though Buck was half joking, Eddie nods and presses his forehead against Buck’s shoulder. Buck drops a kiss to the crown of his head before he can quite stop himself, and Eddie makes that same happy humming sound Buck wants to chase for the rest of his life. 

“Yeah. I’ll see you there.”

—

[yanderedrabbles]

Why am I suddenly into older men?? Why??

Am I developing a daddy kink? I didn't know I could acquire new kinks. This isn't a software update, so why am I suddenly discovering new features to my psyche??

Anyways, here are some of the old man fucker fics I'm currently working on:

Yandere Triad Boss: Jaded and mean gangster sends his men to collect a debt and isn't quite sure what to do when they bring back a girl instead.

Yandere Drill Sergeant x Private Reader: Sadistic marine decides you need to be smoked and put in your place.

Yandere Revolutionary x Last Tsarina Reader: You're going to be executed, but one of the new leaders shows mercy. For a price.

Yandere Captain of the Guard x Princess Reader: He's noticed your little crush, and he's keen to show you exactly how far royalty can fall.

What is wrong with me!! I need to bite a man right now or I'm just going to keep writing increasingly deranged smut. Yes that is a threat someone get me a man to bite

[livwritesstuff]

Honestly, Eddie doesn’t know why it had taken so long for him to realize his and Steve’s children could understand the shit that came out of his mouth.

(It took an embarrassingly long amount of time).

Even when Moe’s third or fourth word was fuck, he didn’t realize it (and she was using it mostly correctly too, which should have been a serious flag, but nope).

What made him realize it was when they started repeating the shit that came out of his mouth. 

To strangers.

In public.

The first time Eddie had been really caught off guard by something one of his daughters said was when Moe, who was three at the time, had proudly announced to an unsuspecting grocery store cashier, “Daddy says my Papa’s a DILF!”

And, like, Eddie had just heard the term for the first time, and obviously he was goddamn delighted by it because…duh. Steve. 

It just hadn’t occurred to him that his toddler might have caught it too, but little pitchers have big ears, or so the proverb suggests, and Eddie had taken it as a wake-up call that Moe isn’t a baby anymore (tragic as it may be).

He’s not the only problem though – Steve is just as bad, (if not worse, because he really doesn’t bother to check where their kids are before he starts running his mouth).

One particularly damning incident was at a restaurant, which is something they don’t even do all that often because, seriously, going to a restaurant with very young kids should be an Olympic event or something.

(The last time they all went out to eat, Nancy and Robin had made a drinking game out of all the times Steve and Eddie had to take a child to the bathroom and ended up so far gone that Eddie had needed to drive them home).

The incident started with the waitress asking, “Can I get you started with anything to drink?”

And it had ended with four-year-old Moe confidently announcing, “My Papa needs a fucking margarita.”

Thank god, the waitress had been a twenty-something college student and thought it was hilarious, but Steve had still been completely mortified.

[zevrra]

[trans!viktor x gn!reader / mdni / nsfw]

being one of herald viktor’s favorite meant a lot of things; like helping him tend to the flowers he’s grown inside the commune or helping him put his hair into a pretty braid when he asks of you…but what you enjoyed the most though, selfish as it is; was being called into his little home in the middle of the night, just to please him. because only you got to see him like this.

thanks to his hexcore transformation, viktor’s body has turned into twisted metal; beautiful purple, gold, and silver covering his “skin”. and yet, even with his newfound body, the most striking difference in change is….anatomy. what used to be has now shifted inwards, morphing into a new set of genitals. he had briefly mentioned once, when all of this started, being different from before his transformation, but some things can never really change in a person. which is what leads to him calling for your attention most nights, trembling in newfound pleasure. he’d sit, tucked away in the secluded area of his makeshift home inside the commune he’s created, clutching the blanket he carries himself in most days. his nose buried into the fabric as he reveals himself to you.

you grip his thighs ever so gently, dawned upon your knees as your herald instructed, nuzzled between his beauty of metal as your tongue runs up along his newfound core. your tongue slides up against his pussy, feeling his thighs tighten with the pleasure that overwhelms him. a high pitched whine slips between his lips as you target over his clit. sucking roughly against the exposed bundle of nerves and savoring the way viktor’s breath hitches in his throat.

you run your fingers over the intricate of metal flesh, body thrumming with unforeseen magic. fingers bumping and scratching down along his ‘flesh’. your touch somehow makes him twice as sensitive to your tongue. feeling up his body while his clit throbs against your tongue. his wetness and your tongue mashing against his cunt echoes loud inside your head but the way he whines and moans was far louder. tears danced in his pretty amber eyes, threatening to spill over the edge with every harsh suck on his pussy.

his slick coats your tongue and lips; drips down your chin to confirm how truly good he’s feeling. all thanks to you. and after the build up comes the storm as his orgasm crashes down on him. it’s wet and sloppy— his cries echo inside his hollow home as he cums across your tongue, toes curling, hips jerking as he rides your face for his own pleasure. you watch as he bites his bottom lip hard enough to break the skin. tears finally tumbling over the edge as he experiences a soul crushing orgasm that jerks over his sensitive body.

but you wanted more.

so your tongue doesn’t stop, continuing to curl right up against his twitching, drooling cunt. fleshing down along the curve of his pussy before slipping your tongue inside. he hiccups at the overstimulation, grips your hair a little tighter, arches his back further off his makeshift bed. broken sobs mixed with incoherent words of pleasure fall from his lips as you push his body towards a second orgasm with your skillful tongue.

not only could you feel vik’s desire building up but hearing him whimper and moan while it rushed to every inch of his new body was something other worldly feeling…even if in his ecstasy he never said your name. he’d moan, beg you for more, push his fingers through your hair and pull you closer; but he never said your name. not any name, just not yours. you didn’t know who ‘jayce’ was but— he must be very important to the herald. and while you’d always be his second favorite, jealousy nestled in your ribcage, you didn’t mind as long as you got to be the one to please him.

[yearninflowers]

Imagine...

Anaxa, someone you've gotten to know after one fateful meeting, has begun to grow on you little by little. Although those accidental meetups seem to happen quite frequently nowadays, you enjoy them all the same. He is quite the entertainer, after all. Equipped with various knowledge over life and his rather spicy attitude, he captured your eyes in the heat of prohibition and curiosity. He seemed to shine, somehow, in his own way. How could one be so confident with their belief and never falter? Whatever is fuelling his own devoutness—you wanted to ask—what does it take to be utterly devoted (to all his research) yet empty of faith like him?

The contradiction that lies beneath his impassive face could make anyone who notices laugh amusingly. Anaxa has always been a person who based his judgement on facts, and more often than not, ones he experienced himself. He does not believe, nor does he trust, an existence he could not grasp. It lacks a reason, he would say. Perhaps linking feelings with mindful comprehension has always been a stupid decision, yet he, a person who has never known of such intensity, does it all continuously. Such complexity is gathered to be one thing: devotion. And Anaxa, no matter how long he tried to search, could never have its truest form, faith.

A scholar's mind is to enquire about every little thing the world has to offer and speak of the truth that prevailed. Being one himself, Anaxa tries to do so as well. Questioning, denying, defending—he does it all easily. It comes like second nature to him. However, proving something that cannot be seen by the eyes is harder to do, even for someone as capable as Anaxa. He won't lie, though; the effect of believing said unseen thing is as real as it can be, yet proving its existence has always remained impossible to do. After all, what can you unveil to the world when the object itself is unknown?

So, he deems whatever faith lies upon someone; it is not equivalent to being real and only an effect of illusory belief. But that is what feelings are too, isn't it? An intense effect which stemmed from within the heart yet hidden deep inside the flesh of a soul. It cannot be proven, nor it can be seen, but it would always be there, haunting the bodies that bear the weight.

And for once in his life, something stirred itself inside Anaxa. Something ugly, he feared. The way his hands would tremble, fearing the ugliness of what he could do, made him disgusted with himself. How could someone as him be affected with something he could not foresee? Or an easier way to say, you. How could you, a stranger with no strings attached to any of the Chrysos Heirs, make his mind go numb? You, an ordinary citizen living in Amphoreus, had successfully done something many others had failed to do. You made him feel this absurdly warm feeling, and he could, for once, never figure out why something had happened.

Anaxa pondered for days upon days to search for the reason. He studied your movement almost daily, arranging coincidental meetings with a bump on the shoulder or even a short visit to a place you frequented. He thinks you must've noticed, but no words have been spoken over the increased bonding time. Perhaps you had never known that Anaxa has been watching you, studying you to the point of dissecting you apart inside his mind every time your eyes met. Perhaps you never noticed him just as he noticed you, deeply and obsessively.

Sometimes, it frustrates him. It feels as if all the observation he did had amounted to nothing. What else—just how—no, what will—argh, Anaxa feels the need to rip you apart, taking out everything to search for his selfish need. Will after opening the mystery box make him understand his concerning devotion? Has he finally succeeded in attaining what people often called faith? But has faith always felt so covetous? Is it not filled with belief that stemmed from one's pure love? This does not feel like its description to Anaxa. Whatever it is, it feels disgusting.

Yet it feels so amazing too. For once in all his time in the world, he feels whole—too full, even. However, the question still remains. For something as unreal as faith to fill Anaxa, The Heretic, just who are you to attain such a feat?

He now often wonders, is it you or him that made him feel the impossible? If it is him, then what is the fuel to his interest? Is it the curiosity of a human? Or could it be something entirely different? As a person, he'll gladly let it all flow. After all, feelings are as normal as they can be for people. But as a scholar, he is bound to question it nonetheless. As he said, a scholar's mind is to question everything, even if the subject is an obsession.

However, if it is you. Anaxa will still try to find the reason that makes you twinkle in his eyes. He'll do whatever it takes—even if it means scrapping you until the very last end of your being—to find out why. As someone who sees the world as an abundance of knowledge to be discovered, Anaxa will stop at nothing to find and prove it. Frankly, even if he thinks he's at fault for the sudden change in him, it will still lead to the same conclusion: examining you.

So, to make everything easier, as his new subject of interest, won't you let him search every inch of yourself and help unveil the truth? He can't ever help it anymore—the disgust and the curiosity keep on killing him from the inside, yet it makes him so full and so happy.

At least, for his sake, do it, yeah? Aren't you a very curious person as well? To mingle with such a person, amazed by his antics and abilities, and even seeking him out yourself—he knows you 'love' him too.

[galaxy-fleur]

Thinking 'bout Leon in his 40's-50's getting his first streaks of gray hair... Need to see that badly, he'd looks so good with them! Although he strikes me as the type to have a full on crisis at the first gray hairs he sees.

He's been stuck in the bathroom for, like, 20 minutes now, so you go to check on him and catch him straight up sitting on the toilet, head in his hands like he just heard the worst news possible, his eyes clouded over... And when you anxiously try to figure out what the heck has him looking like this, he points to his gray hairs.

That's it. He's getting old. Time for the midlife crisis, it seems. It's hard not to laugh at him, but he looks so genuinely bothered you might wanna hold off on teasing for a bit.

He'll feel better if you kiss the top of his head and say he looks handsome with them though. Still a bit panicky, but better. He's a bit of a drama queen with his hair, but it's cute.

[007reid]

hi aine! i love how you write spencer sooo much so i have a short request

i would looove sub/virgin spence where he’s been touch starved so he’s really sensitive and whiny but reader praises him and guides him through it

-🌹

hi rose 🌹 for one of my favorite asks ive ever gotten, i did a horrible job on this one so im so sorry ml 💔and sorry for the wait too...hope this is somewhat worth it😭enjoooyy!!

virgin. spencer reid

pairing: sub virgin!spencer reid x experienced fem!reader. 1k

summary: exactly what the req says

warnings: whining, loss of virginity, riding, creampie, nun too extravagant. yu like the picture?😏😏

"y/n...y/n!" spencer's crying, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes but he's moaning, humming his whines into your neck.

"easy, baby boy," you croon, slipping out of him and slowly lowering yourself on his cock again. spencer's pawing at you desperately, like he's never felt such a thing before.

it's because he hasn't. it’s exciting, being in a relationship with spencer; it’s exciting touching him and seeing him jump or freeze and then melt into your touch. he’s pristine, like a shiny trophy, untouched—touch starved and so unfamiliar to the idea of physical touch or intimacy.

"'s too much," he whimpers pathetically, voice halfway stuck in his throat. "can't, can't--"

"relax, spence," you murmur, pushing back the pieces of hair, damp with sweat from his face. spencer's eyes are squeezed shut, eyebrows furrowed like he's in pain or he's deep thought. you're not to sure which one. your hips continue snapping into his. "look at me baby." it takes a while, but spencer slowly peels his eyes open. they're glossy and his eyelashes are wet, and you're listening out for the word from him to stop but it never comes.

"y/n--" he gasps, right as your pussy clenches tightly around him. his eyes close again. spencer's breathing heavily, little hng, hng, hng's falling out his puffy lips. the sloppy sound of skin slapping against skin and spencer's whines and your quiet moans and the smell of sex clouds the room.

"you're okay," you reassure him, voice shaky trying to soothe spencer's nerves while trying to soothe your own. spencer's big and he practically splits you in half, the tip hitting the little button inside you that makes you want to scream without any maneuvering. he's not even trying, propped up against the bedpost as you ride him, hands pliant at your hips, the little slick of your wetness every time you lift yourself from him absolutely filthy. you lift his chin and he falls forward, planting a miss-aimed kiss at your jaw.

"you feel so good," he bambles. "so warm. i love you. feels so good but so much y/n, i--" he moans, cock pulsating inside you. his thumb flicks at your perky nipples.

"'m so full of you," you say, burying your face in his hair and wrapping your arms around him, trying to get as close as possible. "fuck. make me feel so good. my best boy,"

"best boy," spencer repeats eagerly with a soft little hitch of his voice. the tears resume. "y/n i can't it hurts, stomach hurts y/n please--"

you immediately know what he meant, and fasten your pace, hands on the base of his cock to make sure he won't slip out of you. spencer slides into you easily, your pussy stretched and wet for him and his fingers dig deep into both sides of your waist. spencer's moans cease and his hips starts bucking up to you, arms wrapping around your torso and he wouldn't stop talking. "gonna, think im gonna cum, yn please dont stop it feels so good, fuck!"

"cum in me," you coo, feeling that familiar buzz at the pit of your stomach too. "you got it. cum in me spence, so good for me, such a good boy,"

spencer's sobbing as he cums, warmness blooming at your core as he unloads his cum inside you. you follow suit, pressing at the sensitive nerves bundles at your clit, thighs shaking from the weight of your orgasm. spencer's shaking too, tears shiny on his rosy cheeks and you ride the both of you off your orgasms, the sweat on your skin cooling.

spencer's cum leaks outside the puffy walls of your pussy and down your ass when you pull off of him, pressing yourself at spencer's side and curling your body towards him. his chest is rising and his lips are parted. you watch your boy carefully, how his eyelids starts drooping as his breathing mellowed out. you should've saw it coming that spencer reid is the kind of man to get sleepy after sex.

but you've known him for long enough to know that spencer's mind never stops running, not when he's sleepy, not when he's asleep, not ever. "penny for your thoughts?"

he turn to you, smile debauched and eyes like marbles. he throws the sheets over the both of you and find your hand underneath the blanket, bringing it to his lips. "'m so grateful for you yn," he whispers like he's telling a secret. you strain your ear to listen. "so grateful. luckiest man alive. i love you. love you," spencer takes a long blink, and you know he's drifting off. you smile widely, so endeared. he weaves your fingers together. "i'll make it up to you. swear. after this. i swear."

spencer never speaks in choppy sentences, never speaks unless he's got the entire sentence planned out in his head and now he's babbling on like someone whose speech he would correct. amused, you reach out, smoothing down his hair with gentle fingers. "sleep, spencer," you say affectionately. he never needs to be told twice either, apparently, because his eyes flutter shut and he's out like a light, but fingers still tightly intertwined in yours underneath your blanket.

you'll just have to wash the sheets tomorrow.

[chugging-antiseptic-dye]

sending bf! seventeen boomer! new year's greetings 🎊 :

[hello-sweetheart]

You know that trope where Person A thinks Person B is just being nice but they’re actually flirting. What about the opposite? Person A misreading their behavior and being the only one falling impossibly in love.

Clumsy in Love part 4

Eddie rubs his hands over his face and presses the heels of his palm into his eyes.

Im such a piece of shit. God, how could I just do that.

He’s pissed at Steve for not saying something sooner, for waiting until Eddie had something good in his grasp. But he’s angry with himself too.

How stupid is he, really? Did he really not notice until it all came face to face?

He has Adiel’s number memorized, but he knows which of Steve’s beauty marks form constellations.

Mostly, hes confused. His feelings are a jumbled mess and he’s never been good at sorting them out. Naturally, he turns to music. Dio has serenaded him these past few days. Wayne has steered clear of his shit show.

How do you feel right now?

What do you see?

Where would you be right now?

Hey angel what about me?

Jesus fucking fuck. He attempts to run his hand through his hair only it doesn’t get too far, rings snagged in his tangled hair. He can feel the oil built up on the strands and knows it’s time to get his ass out of bed. He doesn’t.

“Angel, Angel, angel. You were my angel. Just not anymore.” He mutters to himself long after the track has finished and another song plays. He’s learning to let go still, even after he’s ended it.

You know what really makes him feel like a dickhead? That Adiel got hurt because of him. He didn’t deserve to get caught in Eddie’s bullshit.

Guilt eats him alive.

His conscious hurts and his heart trembles, tumbled in his chest, but he doesn’t feel the heartbreak the way he should. That world-on-fire and breath burning feeling. He can’t find it.

Like a masochist he wants for it, desires it, deserves it like sinner.

Those last few weeks were enough for his feelings to settle, for his heart to make a decision with or without his input. He tried—god fuck I tried—to feel that skipped-beat flutter when Adiel smiled his way. Could almost convince himself he could. That Adiel’s interlocked hand in his still felt an extension of himself instead of something foreign.

It used to feel like I belonged at his side. Why did it have to stop?

He’s wronged a friend who trusted him to keep his heart safe. A friend who had already been through so much. And Eddie added to that lifetime of hurt because he couldn’t figure it out himself.

Because he was too stupid to see and too stupid to know.

He thinks of Steve’s lips, like he has now for days. Weeks. His heart twists, rung out. That skipped-beat flutter that betrays him.

Fuck. Fuck, man.

He has to stop yanking at his hair like he can train himself out of feeling it.

Do your demons, do they ever let you go?

When you've tried, do they hide, deep inside

Is it someone that you know?

You're just a picture, you're an image caught in time

We're a lie, you and I.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he tells no one because he needs to say it until he can forgive himself a little. Until he can make himself believe that Adiel will forgive him, in time.

“I’m so sorry,” this time says it to himself, covers his face with his hands and finally cries.

Against his fucking will he cries, can’t hold onto it anymore. Ugly retching sobs that can only come from mourning an almost.

Finally, after days of like solitude, Wayne creeps in un-intrusive as a shadow. His hand on his shoulder may be the only thing that keeps Eddie from disappearing.

“I could’ve loved him, Wayne. I could’ve—I did. I think I fucking loved him and I didn’t know until—until I didn’t anymore. And then—and then I just couldn’t again.”

I wish he got to know that. That even for a short time, I had loved him.

Wayne, ever a man of few words, sits with him and lets him have his silence.

———

It’s a little over a month after that that Steve pays him a visit.

He’s smart enough to show up when Wayne isn’t home, looking sheepish as he shuffles on his front step. At least he has the gall to look him in the eyes.

All this is because of you, he thinks. His dark under eyes, his pallid skin. The rage in his blood. The almost that he had.

“Why are you here?” He looks taken aback, almost shrinks in on himself.

“I… the boys said that you, well.” Steve rubs the back of his neck, his hair longer than when Eddie last saw it. It slips through Steve’s fingers. “You never came by again and I wanted to see you. To talk? Can we talk? Can’t… can’t I come in?”

Having Steve in his home, in his space, is dangerous.

Those eyes are deep, soften by tired shadows.

“No,” his swallow is audible and steels himself, “Why should I want you in my home, Steve?”

Steve stands there lips parted and hands clenches at the bottom of his sweatshirt, eyes shined over. Eddie takes the chance to step forward. Everything inside him is too much.

“Don’t you understand what you did? I was happy. And you, fuck, you ruined it! Steve! You!” He out of the door way now and Steve steps back, back, back.

Steve’s face is red in shame. Eddie’s in anger. His pointed finger jabbed at his chest, accusing.

“You couldn’t just let me be happy? Why? Why did you kiss me, Steve? Why then? Was it because you couldn’t stand that I finally had someone? Say something!”

Steves eyes overflow, “Yes! I could stand it because I love you, asshole! I thought, I don’t know—I thought you loved me, too. Okay? Me. We both felt it—tell me you felt it too, Eddie? It wasn’t just me, right?

“You were everywhere and everything. You’d smile at me and it was the sun. So close, always right there and it was like we were—we were teetering on the edge of something amazing. And I was so happy, Eddie. So happy that day ‘cuz I thought, it was just us, right? Me and you. Just us. Together.

“But then you saw him and your weren’t even listening to me. You didn’t hear a word I said, did you? You only had eyes for him. You left me there and I didn’t know what to do with myself ‘cuz suddenly all you’d talk about was him. Every day and every minute we were together. After thinking, after thinking you loved me too.

That I had you.

So yes! Okay? I kissed you because I was selfish and I needed to know. I needed to know if any of it was real. If there really was nothing there.”

Steve’s breathing hard by the end of, words a wavering wet string of rawn vulnerable pulled out of his chest. He’s looking at the floor, hair covering his eyes, and shoulders trembling as he hiccups.

Then, everything feels still. Calm inside. For the first time in ages, Eddie feels like he can take a deep breath and not fall apart. He closes his eyes for a second and just breathes. The fight escapes him with the last breath.

“You ruined me, Steve. You ruined me in a way that even I didn’t understand. I didn’t know, not until that night, about how you felt. And I’m sorry if it was my fault, if I did and said things to make you feel that way, okay? But I didn’t… I didn’t feel that way about you. Not then. Not when you kissed me.”

“And now? Eddie? Do you… could you feel that way for me, now?”

“If it weren’t for you,” he begins, “Adiel and I… we could’ve had something great. But then you—and I— I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I wondered so much on why you kissed me that night, replaying every moment together, to see what you saw. And ended up feeling… feeling what you felt.”

He takes the chance to move forward the last bit of space to reach to him, have him look him in the eyes. Both of them mirror images of despair.

“You ruined me, Stevie. Everything was different. It wasn’t perfect anymore, I couldn’t make it perfect again. And I couldn’t be who I had been with Adiel knowing that I couldn’t find in me what we had before. That maybe, this has the chance of being something amazing, too.

I stopped seeing you everyday, so I saw you in everything. I stopped speaking to you, and you became the voice inside my head. It was maddening.”

Eddie laughs and wipes away the tears from Steve’s eyes, they fall faster when he smiles a weak and small but real thing.

“Adiel and I, we fit together; we were good together. But despite that, I didn’t want him anymore. I didn’t know why, I think I still don’t, but… I don’t need to know. I just need feel it, Stevie. And I feel it. I want this. Me and you. You have throughly ruined me, for anybody else.”

This time the kiss is different. It’s shared elation, wet and salty on the tongue, and clumsy as they try to fit into each other. Disappear in one another.

“Are you still mad?”

Those brown eyes don’t resemble gems of green, but they’re filled with incredible warmth and Eddie sees home in them,

Sees a life with them,

It’s own kind of precious.

And he laughs.

“So much, Stevie. I’m mad and heartbroken and falling jn love and happy and so so sure of us. I think, I think I still need some time, I’m really fucked—no, no, shouldn’t cry anymore,” he says as Steve’s face scrunches and it’s so unbelievably cute if he wasn’t blaming himself for it all.

“I just want to make sure I do this right this time. And if I, if I invite you in… I won’t be able to.”

Steve rests his forehead against his, there is heat between them, “But I have you, right?”

“Yeah, took me a while to figure it out but… yeah. Yes. You have me, Steve. God, and I have you. And tomorrow, tomorrow you’re going to come over and pick me up at 6 in the evening so we can eat shitty pancakes at the diner.

And then we’ll figure this out together.”

Part 3 <💛 End, thank you for reading and for all the feedback!

[megumiluvv]

It’s Christmas. You’ve almost forgotten about it and rush next door to Choso’s apartment, Yuji’s gifts in hand. You carefully place them under the tree and start to grab your gift for Choso, yet pause to look at the tree.

The ornaments are so pretty and sweet. Mostly items that Yuji has handcrafted for school projects, but also some old ones of Choso’s. An old elementary photo of him catches your eye and you smile. His little kid face is so adorable, but the lack of tattoo across his nose is a little surprising at first. Maybe because you’re used to him with it.

Choso walks into the living room from his bedroom and smiles. “When’d you get here?”

“Just now, still have to bring your presents, so look away.” You smile as he starts to cook breakfast, the Christmas cookies you all decorated a few days ago still in a container sitting on the counter.

You return to your apartment and grab Choso’s gift, you hope he’ll like it. You hide the small box in your pocket and head back to the apartment next door. Choso’s cooking and Yuji’s still asleep, so you continue with the plan you and Choso made last night, grabbing Choso’s boots and a sieve and powdered sugar to make it seem like Santa had visited overnight.

The footsteps lead from the front door to the tree, then lead to the cookies and milk that were set out, then back to the door. Choso looks over and frowns a little.

“Still think the floor will be sticky when it’s time to clean.”

“Quit whining, Yuji has to believe it.”

“The snow would already be melted before he even reached our apartments, we’re under an awning.”

“He doesn’t know any better. He’s too young for practicality, okay?” You huff in exasperation.

���Yeah, yeah, I hear you.” Choso sighs and sets the table. “Sukuna and Uraume should arrive soon.”

Just then, a knock comes to the door. Before either of you could answer, Sukuna opens the door, always walking in like he owns the place. He sees the “snow” and carefully avoids it, knowing better than to mess with Yuji’s image of Christmas.

“He’s still at that age?” He grumbles.

“Huh, speak of the devil and he may come.” Choso mutters to himself. You giggle and help Sukuna set the presents under the tree.

“Is it snowing out there?”

“Yeah, colder than Uraume’s freezer settings.” Sukuna grumbles once more.

“That’s an exaggeration.” Uraume rolls their eyes and sits on the couch beside Sukuna.

You go to wake Yuji and smile at the cute Christmas pajamas the boy is wearing. He clings to you, half-asleep as you carry him out of his room. The moment he sees the presents, his eyes widen, and he believes good Saint Nick stopped by even more when he sees the footprints you created.

“Santa came!” The boy shouts excitedly, hopping from your arms to the tree, looking back at Choso excitedly. “Can I open one? Pleaseeee?”

“Eat first, kiddo, then we can have presents.” You smile and help Yuji to his seat.

He hurriedly eats breakfast and sits at his favorite spot on the couch, trying to hide his excitement for the presents. You set his presents out in front of him, then do the same for the presents for Choso from Sukuna, saving yours for later.

“Woahhh! I got a Human Earthworm poster!” Yuji grins widely. “And spider-man stuff!”

“Damn kid and his spider-man.” Sukuna ruffles Yuji’s hair and smirks as the boy complains.

Choso looks at the present from Yuji, you can see his eyes watering at the little gift. You sit beside him and lean your head on his shoulder, looking at the handmade present. Yuji (with the help of you) made a photo album for Choso, a bunch of pictures from this year’s adventures, and a handwritten note from Yuji saying how Choso is “the best big brother ever in the history of the universe”.

“Yuji, this is so nice, thank you.” Choso barely contains his emotions as he hugs his little brother, much to Yuji’s protests.

You smile softly and stand. “Let’s go play in the snow, yeah?”

Yuji nods excitedly at that and puts his snow boots on. “Yeah!!”

After a long day in the snow and a snowball fight Choso loses, Sukuna and Uraume take their leave and Yuji sleeps in his bedroom. You and Choso clean the wrapping paper mess and the footprints of powdered sugar off the floor. You grab a fake mistletoe plant from the tree and grin to yourself.

“Choso, look up.” You hold the mistletoe over your head.

Choso smirks and places his hands on your waist. “You do understand what that means, right?”

“Mmmhm! That’s the whole point. Now don’t ignore the Christmas tradition, Choso Claus.” You giggle.

He presses his lips to yours and you wrap your arms around his neck, eyes closing and a contented hum escaping your throat. You both hold the kiss for a moment and when you pull away, you place your present in his hands. He opens it carefully and smiles at the locket in the box. Inside the locket is a photo of you and Yuji, you thought it was a little much, but Sukuna said he’d like it.

“…I really like this, thank you.”

Feeling accomplished (and very relieved), you smile and give him a chaste kiss. “Merry Christmas, Cho.”

“Merry Christmas indeed.”

Masterlist

Taglist (ask to join anytime): @samaraxmorgan @cherriee-ee @auor4 @chaotic-ish

@meowsannie

@mediokerrv @flooftoof @dazaisfavgf

@mysteriaqueen @theirlgarfield

@jasminelee324 @t-candy

[nonranghaes]

"it's just me."

you barely get a chance to roll onto your back before soonyoung's already climbing onto the bed and somewhat on top of you and your blankets, and it's only seconds later that he crashes. it's far from the first time this has happened (soonyoung is clingy and cuddly, especially when he's sleepy), but he manages to knock the wind out of you nonetheless. he rests his head on your chest, and you wiggle an arm out to curl around him as best as you can in your semi-trapped position.

"soonyoung--"

"just go back to sleep," he murmurs. "everything's fine."

you stroke his hair, thumb dipping down to graze his cheek at one point. "soonie--"

"i mean it," he says, eyes peering up in the low light to see yours. "i'm fine. just need to nap." his hand finds yours, and he wraps your arm around him as he snuggles in. he plants a kiss against your chest before resting his head against it again, eyes fluttering shut. "you can rest a little longer, too."

you settle back down after a moment, arms wrapped around soonyoung as you shut your eyes again. sometimes you swear this tiger is a teddy bear, but regardless of which he is, he's yours.

[marimeeko]

After the fifth time that Katsuki pops up at UA, surprising Izuku with Bento for lunch, calling him "sensei" in a cocky(affectionate) tone, Kouta just stops at Izuku's desk on his way out of the room and asks him point blank,

"So are you and DynaMight actually dating, or what?"

Izuku sputtering and dropping all of his paperwork and avoiding the question out of sheer dumbfoundedness.

Then, the sixth time that Katsuki barges in, as he is thrusting the bento into Izukus hands as usual, Kota raises his hand, and stands up from his seat and yells out,

"DynaMight, sir!! Pardon me, but are you dating Deku-Sensei??" And the whole class gasps and whispers. Katsuki appears just as dumbfounded as he looks wide-eyed at Kouta and the students.

"Kouta!" Izuku balks, but then Katsuki suddenly grins mischievously. Izuku doesn't trust that look...

"Well, brat, maybe I SHOULD date him, then I could make sure Sensei doesn't forget to eat every day, right??" Katsuki looked entirely too pleased at the louder gasps and chatter that came from the students. He has a wicked grin as he turns his sharp red eyes back to Izuku.

"K-Kacchan, what are you doing?!" Izuku stammers, beet red and grabbing his arm. "This is not the time for--"

"If you don't want me disrupting your class, then stop leaving your Bento in the fridge!!" Katsuki scolds Izuku before swinging himself back out of the open window. There was a fresh wave of gasps and excited murmuring at the insinuationthat the two lived together. "We're ROOM MATES, OK?" He adds hastily, pointing his finger at the noisy classroom of kids.

He drops out the window and blasts off.

Izuku is left, stood at his desk, hands planted and hanging his head, trying to collect enough of himself to quell the riotous theories now flying around his classroom.

Kouta stands at his own desk amidst his unruly classmates, eyes narrowed as if he had just realized something, "I knew it!" He hisses.

"You're the worst," Izuku texts Katsuki later.

"I know" katsuki replies.

"Now eat your fuckin food or I'll stop making it for you."

--

I think I was inspired by this art post ^^;

[jayparked]

since i dont have an official event for my 2k follower celebration, i thought what better way to celebrate than to have you guys pick the next prompt for the miscommunication series!

it makes me so happy that you're all enjoying these fake texts so much. reading your thoughts/comments has made me so incredibly happy 🥺

all four of these will be done before a secret 5th and final one comes out so please vote for which one you want to see next!

you will see 3 of these were suggested by some of my followers who left me suggestions when i asked for ideas. i'm no longer accepting more ideas since i'd like to end this lil series soon!

here are the first three parts if you haven't seen them yet! part one ; part two ; part three

i will post based off the order these are voted in!

thank you guys for all the love 💛

[luckyartdrawer]

(Bitter) Sweet! Art & Drabble

For @divinit3a Café Lunch Rush prompt list! There's still plenty of time before the first prompt is due (Jan 12th), and there's 2 other prompts as well for the month! Definitely check it out lovelies! <3

Drabble name: Instability Of The Heart Contents: Sun x reader, Heavy Pinning, Bitter Sweetness Chosen Words: Clouds, Opals, Celebration, Star-crossed, Letting Go, Hope, Candle Word Count: 1,625

AO3 version now available!

Ch 2. Moon, Ch 3. Eclipse

(Close Ups are also at the bottom <3)

It’s been a whole year…

Unsure how to approach the festivities now, Sun decided to find a quiet spot instead, spending all morning setting things up to participate in his own way. He couldn't not join in, but it just wouldn't be right to go back into the thick of it either.

The not-too-far-off town square, only a mile below his expanse of cloud, is alive in the lieu of celebration. The live orchestra plays the same casual songs, their passion dying the expanse of clouds they rest upon pink with their infectious energy, and the music drifts up clear as day to his ears despite the distance. The community brightens at each strum of a chord, chatter so lively that they create lyrics to their own song. They all are so alight that even once the sun sets, not even a single candle will be necessary to keep the festival bathed in a warm glow.

Sun sighed as he looked towards his namesake, feeling both relief and dread seeing it only moved a little since he last checked, located slightly past the center of the sky above him. Any moment now the square should clear its center and engage in its Hearthwarming Dance.

A spark crackles in his chest, sending longing pangs to his heart and head. It swirls through the burning magma and dips through every ligament, the tips of his fingers and toes buzzing with the itch to do something.

He turns to his partner, waiting for the first note of the new song to swell before grabbing their soft hand and whispering,

“May I have this dance?”

Without his usual banter, Sun embraces them and sways to the familiar beat without hesitation.

Upon closing his eyes, he is suddenly not dancing on a patchy field of clouds, but rather upon a lively opal plaza shimmering in the warm sunlight; the polished stone reflecting all those lovely pink clouds to create a mosaic, speckled with a rainbow of beautiful color.

Yet, the way you shined changed everything. It had completely ruined his view of beauty.

Your smile glistened through the sheer cloud of stardust that orbits around your form. Your eyes were as hypnotic as the ring of light you absorb, blindingly white before turning into a pitch black that's impossible for him to comprehend. He could barely even remember what you wore that day, too busy memorizing your face.

You were a star that had gone supernova, a rarity unseen for the last 3 centuries, let alone for a star of your kind.

Even the thought of your imagery causes him to inhale sharply. He clutches at his partner tightly, mindless of the give as he steps around in a traditional dance.

You were so scared when the change happened all those months ago...

Sun had found you holed up in your dark room, begging him to not look at you. He had initially come over to barge down your door for being an hour late to meet him, only to find your home was unlocked. It wasn't too unusual, so he welcomed himself inside, used to doing so after years of friendship.

His bitterness over how you kept him waiting for so long evaporated at finding your tearful state, almost unrecognizable if it weren't for your usual wear and voice.

He's still ashamed to say that he was enraptured by you despite the state you were in.

You were a glimmering dwarf star before, enchanting enough as is, and yet somehow you turned into something even more bewitching, compounding his years of desire into something even stronger. It felt right. Not to see you sad, but to see you in that form. Everything about it felt like you. The pull was indescribable in every step he took, the very essence of you invading his senses.

As soon as he recounts reassuring you, drying your tears, and pulling you into a hug; he snaps back to having you in his arms in the light of day, grasping his right hand and prancing with ease across the square, expertly avoiding other participants.

The magnetic pull is intense, the need to somehow get closer and closer was nearly impossible to ignore. He wanted to run away from such a force, yet he only clutched your hand tighter as he spun you, pulling your back into his chest and locking you there for a beat too long.

He was so afraid that you could read his every move, regardless of knowing your sheer obliviousness to his desires.

You always playfully indulged his yearly insistence of being your dance partner, yet nothing had come of it from either side. But this time, his gaze was constantly locked with yours, unable to break contact. His possessive grip had ensnared you, barely leaving even an inch between you. He couldn't help but pause, disregarding the mass of bodies moving around him, wanting to hold you forever.

How could it not be obvious?

Regardless, he knew it was inevitable he'd spill out his soul to you soon, barely able to restrain his lips from colliding into yours at that very moment.

He hoped, he prayed, he begged like a mantra to the celestial mother that you'd feel the same. That this magnetism isn't so one sided. That restraint would one day be unnecessary and he'd finally be able to drink in the flavor of your kiss.

Only mere seconds had passed when he released you from his hold, continuing the dance as if nothing happened. Perhaps to you, nothing did happen.

Would that explain what had happened?

He spent that whole day with you, following you to vendors with traditional carbon foods and indulging in your proximity as you'd graze hands and bump shoulders on occasion, finally left comfortably alone as the town's people were accustomed to your new appearance by then.

He was more than happy to scoop you up the moment you said you were getting tired and overwhelmed. You insisted that you didn't want the fun to end, but he could tell by the sound of your voice that you at least needed a change of pace.

The sun was setting when he leapt up stray puffs of clouds to the field above the plaza. He pranced in circles, leaping gaps to the dying beats of music, and teasing about dropping you through them when you didn't believe he could cross. Your rivers of laughter only fueled his audacity, as he never wanted to hear them end. Inevitably, his foot barely slipped off the edge of one of his more daring jumps, causing the two of you to fall forward and collide with the cloud beneath you.

Despite the grunt the two of you made at the impact, you were quick to laugh at Sun’s failure, teasing him about his cockiness biting him in the behind.

But Sun couldn't ignore the press of his body on top of yours, the echoing melody of your voice ensnaring his throat, refusing to allow him to even draw breath, let alone words. His mind fogged over, the only reprieve to his pinning troubles all pointed towards you, and he desperately needed that relief.

Your lips were more delicious than he could have ever dreamed of, your endearing expression was wide eyed and glowing.

Glowing so much that he actually had to close his eyes for a moment to recuperate, despite how much he wanted to savor your appearance.

And then with a fluttering blink, he's back in the present, kneeling down in the same position over some sad facimally of you. The cloud he molded this morning was mangled already from his delusions, but due to his fall it had melded into the cloud below it, its pink color feeling more taunting than sweet.

Sun looked down at his hand to find a tiny piece of said cloud still in it, a tear welling up in his eye.

It was too fitting.

In that original moment, it was as if you dissolved right in his arms after that kiss, but he refuses to believe anything bad happened. He searched your home, your favorite places, and even contacted your friends and family. No one knew where you were.

Some believed you to be dead after he finally admitted what happened between the two of you.

He vehemently denied that possibility, despite the plausibility. You were barely older than he was, still spry with centuries of life ahead of you. You couldn't just die from a kiss…

The only spark of hope he was given was when he questioned one of the elder Neutron stars, one of whom recalled personally knowing a singular supernova; one who had been taken suddenly to a world beyond the sky to contain their unstable make up. They had returned only once to explain their departure, before saying goodbye for their next one shortly after.

Sun brought the small puff of cloud to his lips – it should have been your hand.

He couldn't repress the tear that escaped him.

It's been a year since your disappearance. He still hasn't given up on his star-crossed lover, if he may even call you that. Your sudden departure left him wanting, stagnant, unsure of so many things.

If you reciprocated, wouldn't you have come back to him by now..?

Overtime, many have caught onto his depressed demeanor and advised him that it's best to learn to let go.

Preaching that waiting is fruitless.

Denouncing the Neutron’s tall tale of some magical plain snatching you away.

Scolding Sun for ruining his life over some runaway star.

However, he cannot help it; you own all the hope he has left. As he is unfortunately, completely, woefully in love with you.

Close Ups!

[etoiile]

cute lil friends to lovers confession scene with akaashi <33

akaashi keiji was very used to you coming to him for advice and comfort.

you're having friendship trouble? you two are meeting for coffee. academic stress? you two are going for a walk. just a bad day? you two are watching whatever cheesy romance movies you'd like alongside your favorite snacks. (he always has them stocked in his apartment.)

you always referred to keiji as your "unpaid therapist," because he really was there to guide you and comfort you throughout all of the twists and turns of your life. whenever you accomplished a major milestone, keiji was there. whenever you needed to just talk about and process your feelings, keiji was there. even at your lowest, darkest points, keiji was there. he was always there.

he just had this natural talent for knowing exactly what to say and do. he had this process of welcoming your crying body into his home kindly, (or showing up at your place when he knew you were probably on the verge of a meltdown) making you something warm to drink, sitting you down on something comfortable, letting you cry out all of your worries and anxiety, and then giving you the kindest words of comfort and the most perfect advice for every situation. it was seriously magical, the way he always seemed to just abracadabra and suddenly, your life seemed a bit brighter.

he always knew exactly what to say and how to help you. it just came to him organically.

this time, however...

"i want to confess to this guy i like but i dont know how."

keiji stared at you in mild shock. he was certainly not expecting this. he thought that maybe you were feeling a bit overwhelmed and wanted to cry your eyes out to the notebook for the twentieth time to make yourself feel better, that maybe that one friend who always mistreats you made another snarky comment, that maybe you had a paper due in two days and you hadn't even started, but a boy? that you like? that you actually want to make a move on? this was not in his predictions.

admittedly, keiji had grown to like you a bit more than he had expected. there was just something about you that was so special and beautiful to him. maybe it was the way your eyes shone like diamonds whenever something mildly positive happened, maybe it was the way you somehow managed to cry at the same scene in the same movie despite having watched it multiple times, maybe it was the way that despite everything you would go through, you'd always try to keep your head up, but regardless of the reason, he had grown more than fond of you. if you weren't so dense, you'd see the way he looked at you, as if you were one of the seven wonders of the world, or the way he talked to you, in the most gentle, heartfelt tone that was never used on anyone else, or even the way he helped you with anything and everything, setting aside whatever he was doing to be with you when you needed him.

so, you can imagine the way his heart sank when he learnt of your affection for some other man.

"are you guys ... close?" he asked, silently hoping you'd say no, in which case he might be able to encourage you to wait it out a bit until you were sure.

"mhm!"

oh.

"we hangout a lot. he's always there for me when i need him!"

more than him? he thought that the two of you hungout pretty frequently, and he thought that he was your "therapist" who was there whenever you needed him. who the hell was this other rando? he knew most of your friends. you had tons of mutuals and he knew about the ones he didn't personally know through your constant chatter. how come this other guy had never before come up? who was he? he felt like he was going insane.

"and ... you're sure you really like him? how come?"

at his question, your eyes shone in the way that he loved, and he could see the glee radiating from you. it made him kind of sad to see that it was because of another guy.

"well, for one, he's super hot. like, he could be a model. he has the prettiest face ive ever seen and he has the most beautiful piano hands. not to mention, he's toned as fuck."

hotter than him? he knew he was no brad pitt, but he knew he wasn't entirely unattractive. was he not good-looking enough for you?

"for two, he's super smart. like, he's in an amazing major at an amazing university and he gets top grades every time. he's diligent and works hard! it's so admirable, and he inspires me to do the same."

he felt a pang in his heart knowing that despite the fact that he, too, works hard at school, it was a reason for you to go for the other guy.

"y/n, these reasons are a little surface-level. lots of people are good-looking good students. these might not be the right reasons for you to confess your feelings. it might just be a simple, fleeting crush."

despite wanting to be supportive of you no matter what, he couldn't handle the fact that you might be the girlfriend of some other guy. he felt a little bad, but he tried to nudge you into not confessing as subtly as possible.

"but that's not all. above all, he is so kind and he has such a good heart. i've genuinely never met another person as sweet as him. he's been there through my highs and lows, and he's just so pure and good. i care about him so much, and i can tell that he cares about me too. when im with him, i feel like i can be the best version of myself. he pushes me everyday and i'm so grateful to have someone like that in my life. i seriously wonder if he's like, a gift that the gods gave me when they saw how badly i was failing at life or something. i dont know what i would ever do without him."

oh.

you were serious.

you really liked this guy.

what did this other guy have that he didn't, though? he liked to believe he was decent looking! (hes gorgeous and majestic and i love him) he was a hardworking student! he always tried to be kind and caring towards others! why did it have to be this other guy? why couldn't it be him?

as much as he wanted to, he knew he couldn't try to stop you from confessing if you really felt the way you did about that guy. it just wouldn't be right. he couldn't let his own feelings get in the way of your happiness. before he gave you the advice and validation you were seeking, he decided to ask one last question as a confirmation.

"do you think he likes you back?" he questioned.

you pondered the question for a moment. "maybe. i think so? i hope so. i've kind of been trying to gauge his reaction lately, and i think he might like me back? he always tries to hide how he feels, and he has a pretty stoic face, but i can kinda tell what he's thinking because of all the time we've spent together." you replied.

he felt a twinge in his heart but put on a gentle smile regardless.

"he sounds great. if you're really sure of your feelings, go ahead and confess. i think it would be best if you got him alone, maybe in a familiar safe space, and told him straight up. i know that that's what i would like, at least." he advised. throughout it all, he sustained that same gentle smile and voice, despite his extreme inner turmoil. he spoke to you as if you were the most precious thing on earth, because to him, you really were.

"ooo sounds good! so, how do you think i should start it? like, just a 'hey, i like you?' or like, 'you're so special to me and yadayadaya?' what do you think, keiji?" you prompted.

knowing that he was planning how his crush was going to confess to hers felt a little pathetic. regardless, he mulled it over for a bit before replying with, "perhaps you could tell him that you have big news to share as you're sitting down. then, honestly, you could get straight to the point. just tell him about how you feel. however, it all sort of depends on the guy, and how you think he'd respond to different starters, of course."

you grinned. "okay! keiji, stand up for a sec?"

confused, keiji gave you a look, but stood up regardless.

you giggled at the way he looked at you. "so, keiji, lets sit down. i sort of have big news to tell you."

his heart raced. was what he thought might be happening actually happening? there was no way. he didn't know what to think. his mind raced with a million possibilities, ranging from you pulling a little prank on him to you telling him you were deathly ill, but the main one loomed large.

he gulped. "hm...?"

dont get your hopes up. dont get your hopes up. dont get your hopes up. he thought to himself. he was terrified at the thought of having false hope embarrassing himself.

"listen. we've known each other for awhile now, you know? and in that time, i've gotten to know you as this awesome guy who's perfect in every way. i love you to the moon and back; always have and always will, but now, that love is not the same kind as it used to be when we first became friends." you expresssed cautiously.

akaashi was sure he was about to have cardiac arrest from how fast his heart was beating. his palms were sweating and his eyes were wide. was this happening? was this actually, honest-to-god happening?

"i really, really, really like you, keiji. and im not saying that as just a friend." you stated. you looked a bit nervous, but you felt just enough determination to look at him in the eyes.

akaashi, on the other hand...

akaashi steadied himself on the arm of the couch he was on. "seriously?" he breathed shakily, feeling like the news was too good to be true. his face was beet red, his whole body felt numb, and he had subconsciously pinched himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming. he had never felt such an intense rush of emotion, and he had no idea what to do with himself. for the first time in your relationship, akaashi was the one less composed and at a loss for words.

"yeah. it's fine if you don't feel the same way, but i thought that i just had to-"

your words died in your throat when akaashi suddenly lunged forward and pulled you tight against his chest, burying his face in your neck.

"i do too." he declared, smiling ear to ear. he pulled away to look at you, admiring your beauty.

"i really, really, really do."

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