#I love him sm I miss writing him

[capitolmutt]

what iffff ..... I brought peeta back ?????

[hoshiina]

pairing: hoshina soushirou x gn!reader (no prns)

request: hii ive been superr into kn8 recently and was wondering if i could req a lil hoshina fic/ imagine wherein theyre in an established relationship and like no one knows and reader can be like a capt or vice capt from a diff division who was visiting or like was also assigned to the same mission/ is the back up and if its ok to req that reader’s fighting style is like that of shinobu’s where its more on piercing motions rather than slicing. im a sucker for secret relationships where they just dont say it out loud but theyre not exactly hiding it either. thank uu

notes: you have a horrible ex (gender not mentioned), TYSM FOR THE REQ im so sorry it took so long to get to

wc: 1900

You didn’t have a good prior experience with dating in secret. Or rather, you had an awful experience before so near the beginning of your relationship when you had to decide what to do, it was a rather tough decision to make. You and Hoshina had been close friends since far before this relationship and so he knew all about how your ex had been seeing other people while keeping your relationship “private”. It was a no-brainer for him truly— he had told you that he thought to make it public before you had even mentioned it, but you asked him to wait a little first. While it thrilled you that he wouldn’t even hesitate to make your relationship known, he was the vice-captain of the famous 3rd division at the end of the day, and you were also a vice-captain yourself. If you had disclosed this to even your fellow officers, it would make it out somehow and that would make it a relatively big deal.

That being said, it still frightened you to keep a relationship private even if you knew Hoshina would never do anything horrible, making it a rather difficult decision for you to make.

Yet as time passed, you felt sure that you were okay with it being private. Rather, you almost preferred it that way. You the way Hoshina’s face would light up when you walked into a room and it would have people questioning him, only for him to smile and play it off somehow. Yet, he'd hold eye contact with you from across the room and smile— just at you. He'd very obviously look for excuses to come visit your division when he could get anyone else in the 3rd division to grab some documents— anyone who wasn't the vice-captain with loads and loads of things to do, yet only you would see the look he gave you when he walked into your captain's office. He’d then find time to pop by your office just to say a quick “love you” before he’d hurry back to his division to tackle the mountain of work he’d given himself. It was silly; there was no need for him to do so for a couple more minutes with someone he lived with, but he loved to be with you and you loved to be with him. And he'd do anything to make you happy.

Before you knew it, you were fine. Hoshina had washed away all the remaining hurt you felt from your past relationship, and you felt so safe with him. You were fine now.

“Soushirou, I think we should date secretly,” you said to him one day, and immediately he stopped what he was doing to sit next to you.

“Why?” he asked, eyes wide and tone serious. “I think we should share. If you're concerned about the media, surely it won't get out that quickly.” His voice softened. “Moreover, I'd like to brag about my lovely partner.”

You shook your head. “I'm alright now, Soushirou,” you said, softly but surely. “You make me feel alright.”

The look on his face softened and he looked so full of love it made you fluster. See? You'd be damned to let alone else see such an expression on his face.

“I'm thrilled,” he said, and you laughed a little. “No, I really am. How about we just tell close friends for now? And we can always tell more people later on. I'm serious when I say I want to brag about you a little.”

“That sounds great,” you said, a soft smile on your face. “I have some people I've been dying to share this news with too.”

It had been almost a year since the two of you started dating, and while you were both getting used to dating in secret by now, Hoshina was starting to get comfortable around you in public… almost a little too comfortable.

In the recent turn of events, the entire defense force had been far busier than ever, giving you both more work and less time to spend together. Although both of you loved the work you did, it was needless to say that you missed each other. A lot. This started to lead to quick kisses in an empty hallway or longing stares from across the meeting that lasted a little too long. You'd scold him later at night that people were going to start questioning it, but he truly couldn't care less anymore.

“But baby,” he said, his arms pulling you close. “I miss you.”

Your heart tightened as you leaned into his touch. You were in his room to wish him goodnight and scold him a little before you went to bed. You were calling it a day, but unfortunately, he wasn’t just yet. Your hands cupped his face as you rubbed your thumbs along his exhausted eyes. He didn’t need much sleep to keep him going, so he didn't really get eyebags, but you could tell he was tired.

“I miss you too,” you said and something in your heart broke a little. “If only we were in the same division at least.”

“Oh, if only,” he said.

“Soushirou, will you sleep soon?” you asked.

“I’m not sure…” he said, looking at the mountain of binders on his desk from all the research he was doing.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” you asked. “It’s probably quicker if we do it together.”

“No, go sleep,” he said. “It’s late enough as it is.”

“Then, together?” you asked, hopefully. It had been so long since he was last by your side while you fell asleep. “You look exhausted.”

He smiled softly and closed his laptop.

"Yeah," he said. "It's been a while since I fell asleep with you."

However, yet another week had gone by and there was no end to the work, and you were both utterly frustrated you couldn’t see each other. More of your kisses had been shared in empty offices than at home lately, and dinner was really the only time you had together. So at some point, you stopped caring about keeping your relationship private— if they find out, they find out.

It truly felt like a miracle when it was announced your division would be backing up the 3rd division in another kaiju attack. You had been so sick of watching Hoshina come home horribly beat up all the time ever since the kaiju attacks were often centred around the 3rd division base. You’d finally be of some help and you'd get to work with him.

Like Hoshina, you specialized in neutralizing smaller kaiju, and like Hoshina, you wielded a sword. Your division was only backing up the 3rd division, so you got to watch Hoshina expertly cut down kaiju and neutralize them while you made sure smaller yoju weren’t getting away. You loved watching Hoshina do what he did— there was such beauty in the way he used his blades. To others, it may look like some flashy moves from someone brimming with talent, but any sword user would see the careful foundational work behind every swing he did. It was truly nothing other than stunning to watch.

Yet, as more kaiju came his way and his suit seemed closer and closer to overheating, you couldn’t possibly just watch.

“Permission to backup Vice-Captain Hoshina, please,” you asked your operation room through your earpiece.

“Permission granted, please go ahead,” they immediately replied.

“Thank you,” you said and that was all you needed, you were rushing to his side. Oh, how you missed fighting with him. It was back when you were still a regular officer when Hoshina would often make time to help you with ways to use your sword that would fit you more— it’s been an awful long since then.

Hoshina had managed to slice just enough to expose a glimpse of the core, but that was all you needed. If the core was visible, you’d just pierce it— and you did exactly that. While Hoshina would slice at incredible speeds, you would pierce with your sword at precise gaps or points with impact.

“Oh, your work’s fantastic as always,” he said and you rolled your eyes.

“Says who,” you said.

These kaiju were just perfect for the way you worked together. They had an insanely hard shell so Hoshina would crack it in any way possible, and you'd jam your sword precisely into the cracks until you exposed the core. While it was tough work, you were ecstatic. It had been so long since you had worked with Hoshina and it reminded you of all the nights he had spent working with you. You had come so far— and he had been with you to get you this far.

Before you knew it, it was over— the honju had been neutralized and the yoju were taken care of. Before you knew it, Hoshina would be the grand vice-captain of the 3rd division that you had little connection with again.

“Reminded me of all that practice we would do so many years ago,” he said and that made you smile. He had treasured those moments too.

“I would love to tell you from back then that I’d actually make it somewhere,” you said to him. “That you weren’t merely wasting your time.”

“Not once had I not wished to help you,” he said immediately, almost cutting you off. “You couldn't possibly know just how thrilled I was to see another sword user.”

Your heart swelled— he meant the world to you.

There were a few of his officers nearby so you made sure to keep your voice down.

“How long have you loved me?” you asked, simply curious, but as soon as it left your lips you realized how awkward that sounded. “Sorry—”

“For forever,” he said, without hesitation. “Truly since we’d train all those years ago.”

Your eyes widened. You didn't expect that for some reason.

“Gosh, I’m just stupid, aren’t I?” you said, flabbergasted. If you had just cleared your mind, you wouldn’t have gotten played around by that stupid ex of yours and you would’ve been with him for so much longer.

“No,” he said, breaking eye contact, looking horribly ashamed. “I was just lame as hell. If I wasn’t a coward I wouldn’t have let an asshole take you away.”

You laughed. “I think that one was on me,” you said. “It’s okay, we’ll make up for lost time now.”

“Do you know that I love you?” he asked and that made you chuckle. You did.

“I love you too,” you said.

Your conversation was not loud enough for anyone to hear, and that was okay. It was just for the two of you. However, saying all this didn’t change the original problem of the sheer lack of time you had to spend with each other lately— so when were you going to make up for said lost time?

Simple, you’d use the time you had.

Hand-in-hand, you walked off the site together and neither of you could hide the smiles on your faces.

“Soushirou, when’s the last time we held hands?” you asked, and your question made you let out an appalled chuckle.

“Don’t ask,” he said. “I thought of the same thing just now and a part of me died.”

You’d hear other officers gasp softly or murmur when they saw you, but you’d let them wonder. You’d let them wonder why the Hoshina Soushirou looked so bashful, hand-in-hand with you. You'd let them wonder if he always smiled so lovingly around you.

You’d let them wonder if you were his special someone.

And they’d be right. You were.

[starry-bi-sky]

Clone^2 - Separation Strikes

"Why do I have to go?" Damian asks, surly and accent-thick, it sounds more like a demand and a whine at the same time. Sitting on the kitchen table with his arms crossed, in a green t-shirt that Danny bought him at a whim when he was at a thrift shop, and black shorts, he's never looked more like a kid. There's a little backpack leaning against the table leg, Damian begrudgingly picked it out when they went shopping.

His English has grown in leaps and bounds since Danny found him -- er, or more accurately; since Damian was spat out in front of him. -- and very little did they have to use the translator on Danny's phone these days.

Which meant one thing: Damian can start attending school comfortably now. And 'go' was the Amity Smiles Child Care Center. Danny and Jazz went as kids until they were twelve, and Mom and Dad actually managed to convince the center director to let Damian enroll for the summer.

And it was summer; Damian starts today.

"Because," Danny says, trying and failing to hide the smile pulling on his face, his heart warm and soft, and also laughing at Damian's expense; "being cooped up in the house all day isn't good for you, and you're starting school in the Fall. And, in Jazz's words: you need to have interactions with other kids your age for the benefit of your social development. And besides, it's only for the morning."

Damian's nose scrunches up, and his eyes roll so violently that for a moment, Danny thinks about joking that he'll get his eyes stuck like that. He holds his tongue; his little brother already looks like he's five seconds away from committing an act of violence.

"I don't need social interaction." Damian sneers, his cheek in his hand; a neverend pool of pride. "I am--"

"The Blood of the Demon Heir, better than everyone else." Danny cuts off, waving his hand in dismissive circles, his voice mockingly deep. Damian's brown skin darkens in embarrassment, and he scowls at Danny. "I know, bud. But Jazz is right, -- don't tell her I said that, -- you should be around kids your age."

Especially when he starts First Grade in the Fall. Honestly -- Danny was a little nervous to send him to the center. Damian's long since cut the habit of trying to kill or otherwise maim people, his palms ache-burn with gentle reminder, but his tongue was as sharp and as cutting as his sword. He still struggles with trying to quell it when he's upset. Vicious child-weapon that he once was, and will never be again.

Danny knows that it comes from a place of fear and defense, that Damian lashes out because that's what he's been taught. That at the end of the day, he doesn't really mean what he says, and he's learning to express himself better. But the other kids don't know that, and kids can be unforgiving and cruel.

Danny just...

His slow beating heart sighs, melancholy settles behind his lungs.

He doesn't want Damian to be outcasted. He doesn't want him to be alone.

Not like he was.

Damian sneers again, but says nothing, his shoulders crawling up to hide his ears like a turtle receding into his shell. Danny watches him silently, leaning against the kitchen counter with his own arms crossed. The clock hanging on the wall ticks in their ears -- it's almost time to go.

He watches Damian, careful, and so he sees it when his little brother's stone-shell pride and petulance shudders, and cracks. The darkened furrow of Damian's brows weakens, and for a moment, slants back.

Ah, Danny thinks, his own shoulders slumping. Epiphany washes over him, and his sad-heart soothes in warm understanding. So that's what it is.

His head tilts, and his hair spills over his shoulders, messy and fluffy, tickling his neck. Some of his bangs fall into his face. "Hal 'ant easabiatan ya habibi?" He asks, voice low and soft. Just as Damian's English has improved, so has Danny's Arabic. He still stumbles over himself some days, and Damian says his accent is trash, but they can have whole conversations now in Damian's mothertongue.

(Danny was incredibly proud of himself for it.)

Damian's face darkens, his blush spreading across the rest of his face, and he ducks his head down. Grown-out curls, black-brown and springy, falls over his eyes. "La!" He yells, loud and indignant, and not at all convincingly. "La 'asheur bialtawaturi!"

He was nervous. Danny can see it now, in the hunch of his shoulders and the tightness of his face, and faintly, he can feel it too. In the ecto-rich air of the Fentonworks House, it thrums, barely-there, like a hummingbird behind his lungs.

Danny can't stop the little, fond smile that forces itself across his lips and upticks the corner of his mouth. "It's okay to be nervous, little brother." He says, he sounds like Jazz when he says that. He doesn't think she'll mind him borrowing the nickname.

He pushes himself off the counter, and Damian refuses to look at him, hiding behind his hair and in his shoulders. It takes three long strides for him to reach the table, and Danny turns, plants his hands on the ledge, and hoists himself up. Right next to Damian.

Damian leans into him easily when Danny's arm wraps around his shoulders and tucks him close to his heart. He can feel his ear against his ribs. Danny hunches over him, resting his chin on Damian's head. "It's so okay to be nervous, actually. I was nervous, Jazz was nervous." He tells him, scratching the blunt edge of his nails across his scalp. "Everyone gets nervous."

"'Ana last aljumiea." Damian mumbles, as small and feeble as he was the night on the OPS Center balcony, realizing that his mom and the League weren't coming for him. Realizing that he was replaceable.

Danny's half-working heart squeezes; in grief, in rage, and his faucet eyes sting. He breathes in carefully, and presses his nose into Damian's hair in a loving faux-kiss. "You're right, you're not everyone." He says, steady and strong, because if he's not a pillar for his family, who else is he?

He can feel Damian's eyes flick up to him, and Danny smiles into his black-brown curls. Tilts his head to squish his cheek against him instead, hand dropping to thumb below Damian's lashes. "You're Damian Fenton," Because the adoption went through a few weeks ago, and he's still riding that high, "You're my baby brother. O' Artist Extraordinaire, Kickass with a Sword, Vegetarian and Wonderful Co-Ghost Hunter."

Damian tries to stifle a smile, and fails. Score! Triumph gathers in Danny's gut, his smile grows wider. He squeezes Damian tight, and only releases him so he can look him in the eyes. "And if anyone gives you a hard time at school, and I mean anyone--"

Danny has bad memories of the teachers looking the other way when the other kids were bullying him, all because he was a Fenton.

And Danny, bleeding heart, bleeding hands, loves his family more than he will ever love himself, will never let Damian experience the same injustice. Not if he can help it.

His eyes narrow, and the buzzy-film of ectoplasm covers his eyes, making them glow, "--You tell me. And as your awesome great big brother-and-technically-dad-but-only-biologically, I will handle it."

Damian, wonderfully made, full of light, his little brother Damian, giggles weakly at him. A sound that's worth it's weight in gold. The scary eyes dissipate, and Danny matches the sound with a cock-eyed, impish grin, dragging Damian into a soul-crushing, too-tight hug. The kind that only annoying older brothers can give. "Got it?"

That gets a proper, if short, laugh out of Damian. He wriggles in Danny's arms, trying to break free. But Danny does calisthenics, his arms are as big as Damian's head, so it doesn't work. "Understood, now, daeni 'adhhab ya 'akhi!"

Danny laughs, loud and bright, and loosens his hold just a smidge, only so he can adjust his grip and hop off the table with Damian still in arm.

"Never!" He crows, hoisting Damian slightly. One eye flick at the clock, and in one quick move, he secures Damian under one arm like a football, and hooks his foot under the strap of his backpack. Kicking it up, he tosses it into the air and catches it with his free hand, and slings it over his shoulder. "Now, to the car, my boy! Before we're late and Mom and Dad get charged."

Damian groans, childish and dramatic and long, but his face is all squished up with a wide grin and glee. Danny can taste his joy beneath his tongue.

"And, if my little pep talk didn't encourage you," He says, reaching the door to the garage, flipping Damian up onto his hip instead. "If you have a good day today, I'll make you bal mithai when you get back."

Like all kids at the promise of sweets, Damian's eyes widen and glitter. Danny loves seeing Damian be a kid, it's his favorite thing in the world. "I will!"

[owlyflufff]

Something about Bokuto growing familiar with Akaashi's handwriting throughout their high school years, whether it's through little notes on how to improve that Akaashi leaves for him or the way caught Akaashi writing little tidbits of writing in a notebook or two.

Still Bokuto Koutarou remembers Akaashi Keiji's handwriting very well, it's a lot more elegant than his. He can recognize the particular way some letters are written, signs of something so precise, accurate and careful. It's very Akaashi-like.

By the time they've parted ways (or if Bokuto graduating but still going into the gym regardless to see Akaashi and the new recruits is considered parting ways), Akaashi's handwriting is still as memorable and recognizable to him. Bokuto knows it the same way he knows Akaashi so well.

Though merely sending a text message is more convenient and easier by a long mile, Bokuto decides to write a letter to Akaashi during his college days. Nothing admittedly prompts him to do it (he's always been one to try different things afterall), but he does it anyway, picking up pen and paper and humming a little tune as he crafts little stories, tales and experiences with his words.

His rambles and thoughts only for Akaashi and Akaashi to bear witness to.

A few days after sending the letter, no response. Akaashi doesn't bring it up either in text messages or conversation and for a little while Bokuto considers maybe it was a bit too silly of an idea.

Until a letter slips underneath his door and Bokuto doesn't even need to read where it came from before he's swiftly opening the envelope.

There is something to be said about seeing Akaashi's handwriting again. He misses it.

His finger gently trails along the paper, a soft smile on his lips as he reads Akaashi's response and his own tidbits of stories and tales, the chaos that is being Fukurodani's captain now in his stead. It doesn't take long before Bokuto is reaching for his pen and paper once more, writing another letter with just as much enthusiasm.

The exchange of letters between them last longer than Bokuto expected, but it would be an understatement to say he was happy in regards to it.

There is one day however, that Bokuto notices something is amiss.

Perhaps his eyes are just deceiving him, but he notices how some of the words are tangled. They aren't written the same way Bokuto recognizes them, not as careful as he had remembered them to be. It's a little odd to say the least but Bokuto merely assumes that it's just a little off detail and goes on, pen and paper already on the table as he writes back a response.

It gets worse.

The soft smile that was once there draws into a frown on Bokuto's lips as Bokuto notices how Akaashi's handwriting gets progressively messier. With every letter that he receives the words on the letter are getting harder to read, ink splatters and smudges on the paper. It doesn't help that the paragraphs start to get shorter and shorter with each passing letter Akaashi sends back.

Bokuto knows Akaashi's handwriting far too well but he knows Akaashi Keiji even more. Something is definitely wrong.

He's a new member of the MSBY team by then, having not been able to visit Akaashi as frequently when Akaashi also graduated. However this time he doesn't waste time, purchasing a ticket and making it over to Akaashi's apartment.

He doesn't know if it's a blessing or curse that his hunch was right.

There is something to be said about seeing someone so dear to you, with far too dark and deep circles under their eyes, room as though a whirlwind had disrupted and destroyed the former order he once recognized and Akaashi -- Akashi who had order at the forefront of his mind, Akaashi who gave reminders and ensuring Bokuto was on track, Akaashi who was always so careful and steady, now huddled up by his desk with trembling hands.

And if Bokuto stays the night, hugging him close and whispering nothing but soothing words to save him from another breakdown. If he shares the bed, letting Akaashi get the sleep he so desperately needed against the crook of his neck, watching over him and pulling him closer into his embrace. If he visits more often than once, bringing food and stories that start to slowly put a smile on Akaashi's face once more, no one would ever need to know save for the two of them.

Well kept moments shared and cherished between them, just like each other's letters they've kept and collected throughout the years. A stack of them safe and sitting snugly in a corner of their bedrooms.

They don't write letters to each other anymore. Instead there are sticky notes on a refrigerator, of food that needs to be purchased, chores to be done and little reminders. Of little doodles within folded paper sneaked into each other's bags, consisting of owls, hearts and smiley faces.

There's no need to write about their everyday lives, not when they get to share it constantly now within the confines of their shared apartment.

And as Bokuto looks to the side, seeing Akaashi leaning against his shoulder and writing something on a few drafts for Udai's next manga, he notices the handwriting once more. It's not as messy as it used to be, but neither is it the same manner Bokuto had grown to recognize. It's getting there though, slowly returning to same careful, steady and eased handwriting he had cherished silently throughout the years.

He kisses Akaashi's head, and knows that it's enough.

[anachronistic-falsehood]

god i need to. stop writing rand dialogue. he just says shit and i can't stop him. this fic is not about him it's about min god dammit

[kentuckyfriedmegumi]

happy itafushiween!!!

while i’ve got you here, i finished my halloween fic! check it out, it’s got fun trio antics, with costumes inspired by @medblackcoffee!!

[hhmnya]

blondgyu is Life like hello he's so mine. anyways announcement please read if u care about Me 🤗

okay so hi. since it's one day past when i said i was coming back i wanted to come and say why i will NOT be back.

"why aren't you coming back omg wdym" "anna why are you dead hello" "i thought it was sainns active era" "why isn't anna answering her fucking messages i've been on delivered for 2 weeks already this stupid ass hoe"

well good questions. turns out i hate high school and being a senior is going to be the absolute end of me 😥 either that or school lunches. anyways i am very busy (unemployed) and tired— i go to school, go to senior activities cos i'm milking the fact that i'm Alpha at my school, go home and nap, take a shower, do my homework, then sleep.

i am chronically online guys. my daily average on my phone is 1hr and 20mins. this is absolutely insane for me. I'M CRASHING OUT!

so yes i have NOT answered anyone which sorry for that guys... i only answer my mommy's texts now... plus i'm drained from socializing so much at school cos i am not used to talking to anyone other than my three friends Erm

hence why i will be STAYING on hiatus for a fat minute, i may (HEAVY on the may) drop a secret project (smau) i'm working on so look forward to that as soon as i finish all the chapters (if i ever have time)

but yes very sorry for dying and staying dead :P this is anna from the afterlife and i love you all and i appreciate you guys waiting for me (don't unfollow i'll cry)!!!!!!!!!! okay another sorry to the mutuals i talk to in dms for not answering i'm sick in the head i will answer you as soon as i feel Free again.

tags (people i have ignored plus others idk).

@hyeinism @jlheon @junislqve @fleurre

@jjunae @isoobie @dioll @boyfhee

@zhounauts @en-gelic @nishibons @bywons

[stunie]

would you do more men for “that wasn’t my name” :0 maybe togame/endo/umemiya??

hii nonnie 🤍 if u pinkie promise that you’ll read it then ofc i can do that for u!!

[lunaetis]

@apocryphis asked :

there is a scribe laying with his head in eden's lap while absorbed in a book. when her hand, grazing the edges of his jaw, comes near enough, he momentarily takes his eyes off the page to leave a kiss in the cusp of her hand. and maybe follows up with the lightest of nibbles at her thumb. her fondness for teeth has not gone forgotten -

unprompted. || always accepting

─「エデン」─  it was a foreign but tender feeling to be the one whose lap was borrowed as a makeshift cushion instead of being the one doing it to him. the TRAILBLAZER found the angle to be quite pleasant, however, as it allowed her to openly gazed at him in a moderate proximity, watching the way his long lashes draped over his jade hues while they were fixated on the BOOK in front of him. other than the starry night sky and countless constellations dotting the ebony canvas of the GALAXY, he was the sight she found herself being completely fascinated by. it was calming, watching him. his presence made her feel peaceful and content. like home.

                it was a rare time that her hand wasn't covered with the dark glove she usually wore. her digits slowly tread themselves through his hair, the feel of his silvery gray locks against her skin a rare sensation she had grown to like each time she got a chance to experience. his attention was impeccable as usual, barely flickering despite how she was playing with his hair. they were so soft and well-cared for, while her AMBER HUES watched him with a kind of adoration one did not see from the usually chaotic trailblazer.

                almost curiously, she traced down the line of his cheek, down to his jaw. perhaps, the movement of her hand might've partially obstructed his view and broke his unwavering concentration. the STELLARON VESSEL watched in awe as his line of vision shifted from written words to her hand, so smoothly guided it towards his lips. amber optics burned the sight of those long lashes draping over his beautiful hues, causing her breath to HITCH in her lungs as she felt the softest of kiss within her palm.

                " altair ... " her heart skipped a beat, and for a moment there, the TRAILBLAZER felt a rush of warmth bubbling up from within, threatening to overwhelm her entirely. the sound of heart pulse echoed dully at the back of her mind, aureate orbs imprinting the sensation she had given countless of times but had never received. it came naturally for her to do so with him, to close her eyes and pressed her lips onto his palm or his pulse in promise, in utter devotion. it was like that ... she was to give her entirety to him who became not only her home but her reason of living.

                her star ... her altair ...

                her cheeks burned. it flushed, pink and then red, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from him. eden wondered if he felt something like this whenever she kissed his palm, too. if he experienced his entire body being engulfed in a sensation so foreign to have someone kiss him like he was EVERYTHING GOOD in the world. to have someone placing a kiss on her scarred and calloused palm from countless battles she had been in like she was the most fragile and precious thing to him.

                the nameless could still hear the sound of her HEART thudding against her ribcage even as he slowly opened her eyes. their gaze met when he playfully grazed his teeth in soft nibbles on the skin of her thumb. the adoring act to placate her penchant for biting earned him an airy laugh. it was light and refreshing, softening her expression as she couldn't help it developing into an affectionate chuckle. slowly, she finally leaned in, taking both their connected hands to the side as her lips hovered over his own in a breathy whisper just before their lips finally met.

                " ... only you. "

                no one else would do.                 for me ... there's only you.

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

ppl in the house and I’m too intimidated to walk to my room so I’m throwing Jeremiah excerpts like bread ends to ducks:

It’s October in 2005 which means it’s cold in Maryland and still warm in Las Vegas. Jeremiah’s been watching the weather channel more frequently lately as a form of pure entertainment which seems like a strange thing to do, probably because it is but also more likely because the weatherman’s got a Colgate smile and hair like Keanu Reeves’ in My Own Private Idaho. He’s named after a flower or something of the like—Prim, Basil, Aster, Sage. Really, Jeremiah should know because he’s invested enough to know the man has a subtle lisp and a birthmark above his right eyebrow, but maybe the problem is that he’s paying too much attention to the man’s subtle lisp and birthmark. Still, he finds himself thinking of the man when he sits on the balcony with a mug of Ovaltine, the weather channel muffled through the closed door. When did he decide to become a weatherman? And is the job rewarding?

Sometimes the reality that he’s dreaming about a weatherman who doesn’t know he exists hits him so hard he goes back inside and turns the TV off right away

[taniushka12]

going to an ot3 tag and seeing the last fic updated in 2019 😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔 (like yeah the pod ended in 2017 but, they're still good!)

[vettely]

i really thought he was the one bc he let me talk about goncharov on our first date and he listened!!!

[acerikus]

*lying on the floor* I'm gonna have to write my own luckypatch fics at this rate is2g-

[haikyuuhoo]

hi okay so I just got home and am v tired so sadly there will be no gojo birthday fic :((( another time to make up for it, perhaps 🫶🏼

[caesurah-tblr]

My boy’s birthday is in a month!!! I’ll be celebrating the entire month of July by writing a Dylan-centric drabble every day, as well as posting a couple of full length fics. Prompts welcome of course :)

[ilys00ga]

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