#and all I find are 900 pairs of glowing eyes

[mochiwrites]

stares. why is there 900 of you now. where did you all come from. what. how. when. why.

[etherealyoungk]

━☆ first kiss with seventeen: mingyu

♡ first kiss with seventeen ♡ masterlist ♡

pairing: mingyu x reader

warnings: kissing, fluff

word count: 900

you and mingyu have been dating for a while now. it’s comfortable, warm, and just a happy wholesome relationship. mingyu doesn’t mind taking things slow with you and he’s been more than happy to take things slowly with you since it was your first relationship. but that doesn’t mean that mingyu hasn’t been thinking of wanting to kiss you. ever since you told him that he’ll be your first kiss, he hasn’t stopped thinking about it.

your lingering glances at his lips haven’t gone unnoticed by him and he’s starting to think he should maybe initiate a kiss. mingyu is determined to make your first kiss memorable and give you all the butterflies. so that’s what he does -except it doesn’t seem to go as planned.

the first attempt, mingyu dropped you off at your apartment and you both lingered out at the door, not quite ready to say goodbye yet. mingyu takes this as a sign to maybe kiss you and he slowly leans in. your heart is beating a million miles an hour as your eyes close but just then the door opens. “you’re back! i thought i heard you outside”, your sibling says and you almost trip and fall but luckily mingyu catches you as you smile at your sibling while your eyes throw daggers at them for ruining your moment with mingyu. mingyu just smiles back at your sibling and talks to them before giving you a small peck on the cheek before he’s parting ways with you. you watch him leave, dejected. it’s okay, you thought. i’m sure we’ll get another chance to kiss.

the second attempt, you were interrupted by jeonghan who came back to mingyu’s shared apartment early. he caught you both just before you kissed and almost thought of leaving but you told him it was okay and that you were leaving anyway. you were too nervous and shy to initiate a kiss again. you go home that night thinking about the moment. oh how you wanted to kiss mingyu so bad.

the third and fourth attempts don’t go as planned as well and you’re starting to think the world is conspiring against you and mingyu because every time you both try to kiss, something or someone always ended up interrupting you both. and poor mingyu, he's having a life crisis as well. why can’t he seem to kiss you? maybe i just have bad timing? mingyu thought. but this just made mingyu even more determined. he was going to kiss you and make it the best kiss ever.

it’s evening and you’re back home and it’s just you and mingyu. your sibling who was visiting you left last week, so you finally have the place to yourself again. you watch as mingyu leans against the doorframe as he asks you what you want to eat for dinner.

“one second”, you say, as you finish typing out an email and by the time you look back, mingyu is gone, back in the kitchen because he’d left something on the stove. you make your way toward the kitchen and find mingyu.

“gyu”, you say and he looks at you, turning around and maybe it was the way you were dressed up or the way the sunlight reflected onto your skin, making you glow. he had the sudden desire and urge to kiss you. he gulped, nervous. he really didn’t want to mess this up one more time. mingyu pulls you closer to him and brushes your hair behind your ear as he looks at you with the most loving eyes. you Iean into his touch and he leans in too, your eyes closing, anticipation bubbling in your stomach. just then your phone rings, making you both pull away.

“sorry i’ll just get my phone, it’s probably my client”, you say but mingyu doesn’t let you go. he wasn’t going to let anything ruin this moment anymore. “baby”, he says, his hand going up to cup your cheek. “the phone can wait, but your lips can’t”, he tells and leans in, pressing his lips softly against yours. whatever you were going to say melts into nothing when mingyu kisses you, finally.

your eyes flutter close and you feel giddy at the feeling of his lips on yours. he kisses you softly and sweetly. he kisses you like he’s been yearning for this; he kisses you with a soft passion as he moves his lips against yours. your hand grips the collar of his shirt as you kiss his back. he kisses you with passion and determination and sweet longing. mingyu pulls away and looks at you and notices your flushed face as you realize that you finally kissed him. you both really kissed.

“baby?”, he asks and he’s answered with a shy smile from you.

“that was…”, but you don’t get to complete your sentence as your phone rings again. he'd just kiss you again, kissing you softly and sweetly as your phone would goes unanswered. (don't worry it wasn't anyone important).

when he pulls away you're breathless, your chest rising and falling as you look up at him, your lips slightly parted and your cheeks heating up. "gyu", you mumble softly. you were still giddy from the kiss and he was holding you and looking at you so sweetly you couldn't take it anymore. you bury your face in his chest, the shyness overtaking you and he chuckles. "baby", he cooes sweetly. you lift your head and peer up at him.

"can i um get another one", you ask softly, nervous. "another what?", he asks, fully knowing the answer but wanting to hear the words from you. "you knoww", you tell, drawing the words and poking his chest. "a kiss", you finally mumble. "you're getting all the kisses you want", he replies, happy before capturing your lips again.

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[baeshijima]

— in these quiet nights

whenever you're stuck in solitude, ayato somehow manages to find a way to be by your side without fail.

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 900+ wc, fluff, established relationship

A/N : its 1 am, currently using this as an escape from my project, and writing a very late ayato piece for his bday ;w; life stop making me have no time for my fictional men pls and ty <//3

There’s a solemn chill hanging overhead. The air stills, the stars dull, and the moonlight glimmers.

It’s not often you find a moment of peace, what with your busy schedule interfering time and time again, though you could argue it’s more solitary than it is tranquil. Perhaps this escapade would have been better suited in the early hours of dawn as opposed to the steadily approaching midnight you’re currently stuck in.

A whisper of a sigh slips through your lips. Pulling the thin blanket closer around your shoulders, you lift your gaze upwards, paying half a mind to the feather-light footsteps approaching from behind. You have no reason to turn to be able to identify the new presence, for who else would be mad enough to be up this late after the busy day which transpired?

“A fine evening, is it not?” comes that oh-so familiar intonation, the footsteps coming to a halt behind your seated form. Strands of baby blue obstruct your view of the bleak stars, a pair of lavender eyes twinkling with fond mischief follow in pursuit. Despite his towering form shielding you from the pale lighting, his face glows all the same — a testament to the sheer elegance instilled within. His gaze drifts down your shadowed form, a light hum trailing close behind. “Are you cold?”

You blink at his question. It takes a few seconds for you to realise the main focus of his concern; the blanket tugged over your shoulders. “How can I be when there’s no wind?”

As soon as the question is uttered, you immediately sense a foreboding shiver trickle down your spine. Maybe it’s the hairs along the back of your neck rising, or it could be the puffs of air Ayato is relentlessly blowing towards your dumbfounded figure.

“Do you feel the wind now?” he has the gall to ask. Unsurprisingly, the impish grin splayed across his lips becomes increasingly more tempting to slap off the longer he persists. Unfortunately, your hands are occupied, making it near impossible to move them. 

(Archons forbid you actually exert unneeded energy when you’re already spent.)

“Yes,” you deadpan, “I’m so cold my teeth are chattering. Can you hear it?”

He hums in faux contemplation, a gloved hand raised to rest under his chin in an attempt to further support his charade. “Not quite. Perhaps I ought to bring out the fan.”

“Please don’t. My teeth will really chatter then.”

Your shoulders relax upon hearing his gleeful laugh. In a fluid motion he steps away from you, exposing you to the stark moonlight, before plopping himself on the veranda beside you. Before you have the time to process the string of movements, your left arm is promptly lifted up (with the blanket following suit) as a bundle of warmth dives into the newly opened space, your arm tugged down and around the intruder of your personal space.

Well, at least he’s warm.

“If you’re tired then go to bed.” As soon as the words are uttered, a displeased whine escapes him. Much to your bemusement, a ticklish sensation occurs at the crook of your neck, and you belatedly realise the act akin to nuzzling currently being performed by the bane of your existence, his arms wrapping around your torso in protest. Like a child.

“Why should I?” he mutters into your skin, tone bitter and laced with indignance someone of his standing should most definitely not have. Well, you can’t say you’re not used to it.

“Because you need proper sleep.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll get sick again if you keep this up.”

“...”

“...”

“But why?”

Archons have mercy on your poor soul.

“I’d rather not be known as your personal pillow,” you state monotonously, positively done with his antics. “I have some dignity left in me.”

“And if I were to say you’re warmer than my bed and comfier than my pillow?”

(You’re not. You can attest to that fact as someone who has actually slept in his bed — which is unfairly warm and comfortable, if you may add.)

Gaze narrowing at the smug expression beaming up at you, you merely retort, “Do you want me to drag you to bed myself?”

“If it’s you then I would happily obli— mmrph.” Swiftly, your palms smother his words before he has the chance to finish. And no, you will not be swayed by the doe eyes batting up at you, nor by the fluttering of his long eyelashes brushing along the apples of his cheeks.

What an unfairly pretty lover you have in your palms. Literally.

Seeing how he’s more than happy with the skin contact being made, you take it upon yourself to swiftly remove your hands and return your gaze to the night’s canvas, his theatrical bemoans of your “cold shoulder” and “[Name] doesn’t love me anymore” going ignored.

It stays quiet between you for a while, the only sounds being the faint breaths and rhythmic heartbeats steadily falling in sync. Oddly enough, you find yourself forgetting the previous solitude you were trapped in only moments prior, focusing instead on Ayato’s fingers entwined with yours and basking in his familiarity.

Your shoulder dips slightly when a weight drops atop it. When you glance down to identify the source of permeating warmth, you can’t help the smile alighting your features.

“Thank you for loving me as much as I love you, Ayato,” you murmur against the crown of his head as you place a chaste kiss, before pulling the thin blanket around the two of you in an effort to cage your shared warmth.

(How strange, you silently muse to yourself, suddenly finding yourself overcome with drowsiness. The air feels warmer now.)

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[daisies-daydreams]

Swf please. Just want sweet fluffy

Miguel comes home from spider society after a week or so, just to find the heater is broken in the apartment again. Along his loving partner is burrowed under all his fluffy thick shirts and blanket that are fresh out of the dryer.

He finds it adorable

Hold Me Close (Miguel x GN!Reader)

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x GN!Reader Category: Fluff Warnings: Like one swear word, suggestive content (nothing explicit), Spanish is not my first language (please let me know if I need to change anything in the comments) Word Count: 900+

A/N: Hi there! Thank you so much for your sweet request! I had a lot of fun writing this one and I hope you enjoy it! 💗

A/N/N: Y'all should definitely support @luxxtuxx! They're writing is super sweet.

“It’s been about a week, you know,” Lyla hummed as she hovered next to Miguel's cheek, the soft glow of her hologram reflecting off of his tan cheek. He grunted and tried to hide his yawn as he scrolled through the various screens in front of him. Lyla rolled her eyes, suddenly shutting off the screens with a snap of her fingers. 

“Lyla,” Miguel warned as his shoulders tightened. She teleported over to the front of his face wearing a stern expression.  

“Listen big guy: you haven’t slept or eaten very much in days. And frankly, you’re in dire need of a shower,” she wagged her finger in front of him like a mother chastising her child. Miguel sighed as he glanced away, pulling the screens back up with a few taps of his fingers on the keyboard. 

“I’ll get to it eventually, alright?” he grunted. Lyla snapped her fingers again, shutting off the screens. Miguel’s brows furrowed as he crossed his arms. 

“What about (Y/N), hm? You’ve left them all alone for a whole week!” she frowned. Miguel’s breath hitched as your despondent expression came to mind. His eyes widened before he ran a hand down his face. 

“Ay, Díos…” the man said [Oh, God]. Lyla clicked her tongue as she leaned her face on the back of her hands. 

“That’s what I thought,” she hummed. Miguel rolled his eyes as he tapped his watch, a portal spawning behind him. 

“Just make sure everyone stays on task,” he huffed as he strolled towards the portal to your shared apartment. He lumbered towards it, nearly tripping over his own heavy feet as he stumbled through the orange-glowing rim. Miguel suddenly shivered as he landed in the living room, his hands immediately flying to brace his upper arms. 

“¿Qué demonios?” he muttered, his teeth chattering as he glanced around [What the hell?]. His gaze flicked over to the heater...which happened to be coughing and sputtering. Again. He groaned and started to make his way towards it before the sound of rustling fabric drew his attention to the bedroom. 

“(Y/N)? ¿Cariño?” Miguel called softly as he approached your door [Honey?]. Even the doorknob was frigid as he turned it. Miguel blinked when he saw a massive pile of blankets and his sweatshirts stacked on top of the bed. A warm smile broke out across his face as he stepped inside.

“¿Donde está mi amor, hm?” he thought aloud [Where is my love, hm?]. 

“Estoy aquí,” he heard your muffled voice beneath the mountain of warm clothes and blankets [I’m here]. He chuckled as he dug through the pile, his eyes eventually falling on your sweet, sleepy smile. 

“Aquí estas,” Miguel whispered before planting a chaste kiss on your lips [There you are]. He loved the feeling of your smile against his skin, your kiss warming him like the summer sun. His hand came up to cup your cheek, causing you to flinch. 

“Your hands are freezing!” you laughed. Miguel chuckled and pecked your temple with his plush lips. 

“Lo siento, bebé,” he sighed before starting to slip away [I’m sorry, baby]. You shook your head.

"It's okay," you smiled. Miguel's smile faltered as a sudden pang of guilt plucked at his heart.

"I know...I'm just, I'm also sorry for being away for so long," he sighed, quickly getting lost in his regrets. He heard you click your tongue, drawing his attention back to you.

"It's okay. I know work has been one thing after the other this week," you said, your voice gentle and warm. He beamed.

"Gracias, mi amor," Miguel smiled [Thank you, my love]. He shifted his gaze back to the pile. "These clothes are still warm. Did you just pull them from the dryer?" he asked. You nodded again.

"Yeah, thank God I made today laundry day," you gaped. Miguel chuckled softly.

"Guess fixing the heater's my next project then," he grinned as he rubbed the back of his head. Your smile returned.

"I'd appreciate that very much, Mr. O'Hara," you winked. Miguel nodded before kissing the tip of your cold nose. You wriggled beneath the pile as he padded towards the bathroom. 

“Where are you going?” you asked. He turned, the weariness from earlier returning to his face. 

“Just taking a quick shower-you’re welcome to join me,” he winked. You shook your head, sinking further into the soft, blankety abyss.

“Nah, it’s waaaay too comfy underneath here,” you replied, stretching your arms beneath the pile. Miguel laughed. 

“Alright. I’ll join you afterwards, then,” he said before sliding into the bathroom. After his shower he snatched a pair of his sweatpants from the mountain and began to maneuver his way next to you. You shifted as he pulled you close to his chest, inhaling the scent of your hair as he lovingly stroked your back. 

“I’ll make sure to fix the heater tomorrow,” he murmured. You pressed your face against his pecs, resting your hands on his upper stomach. 

“Why not fix it now?” you frowned. His eyes widened for a brief second before he smiled. 

“‘Cause I‘ve been wanting to hold you this close for too long, mi vida,” Miguel murmured [my life]. There was a short pause between the two of you.

“Well, in that case…it can wait until tomorrow,” you shrugged with a sleepy grin. Miguel smiled, stroking your back gently as he watched you close your eyes, your warm breath falling against his skin.  

“Buenas noches, cariño,” he whispered as he held your head close to his heart [Goodnight, honey].

“Goodnight, mi amor,” you hummed before you began to softly snore [my love]. Miguel kept his eyes on you as if he were making sure that you wouldn't disappear from his hold. Eventually, he smiled to himself before falling into a deep, much-needed sleep. 

————

Thank you for reading! ❤️

Taglist: @maybethatfanfictionwriter

[otakugurl-11037]

A Quick Female!Y/N x Vampire Thingy I Made.

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Ey, before you read, there's biting, close proximity, mentions of violence, and blood. There's also some teasing too, but nothing too serious. Happy reading! (This is my first writing post, let's go!)

Over 900 words.

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The side of the mattress sunk down, awakening me from my slumber. I open my eyes to see him, leaning over me, one knee in the bed we would be sharing. His long blonde hair acted like a curtain as his unnaturally red eyes just pierced into my soul.

“You…” he grumbled before taking a sharp inhale. He’s undead, so I’m not sure where that oxygen is going.

“Go back to sleep.”

I quickly nod and turn to the side, closing my eyes as well. For a while, nothing happens. 

Is he…waiting for me to fall asleep?

Unsurprisingly, having a pair of eyes burning a hole in the back of my head isn’t helping me sleep at all. In fact, it’s just making me nervous.

I’m about to turn back to tell him to quit staring at me, then in a shocking revelation, he embraced me from behind, his leg resting atop mine and his lips are approximal to the back of my neck.

“Hey-”

“I told you to go back to sleep, didn’t I?”

“It’s not like I can, with how close you are,” I snap back.

He sighs, already annoyed.

“We’re in a twin-sized bed, little girl. How on Earth am I supposed to not be close to you?”

“Fair point.” 

I chose to not bring up the fact that he’s spooning me, as I like the slight warmth his body gives off. Somehow, unlike the others, he doesn’t have a cold body. Maybe he sits around the furnace all day to replicate human warmth.

He suddenly moves forward, snarling a little bit. I felt his fangs graze my throat before going back.

“God, why do you smell so good? I hate it.”

“Can you not think about eating me right now??”

“That’s difficult to do, little girl,” he growled. “It’s like starving a human then telling him to turn away from the feast that’s been prepared right in front of him.”

“Or maybe you could try drinking from the blood pouches we’ve prepped before we got here!”

“I don’t want those subpar blood pouches. Besides, I shouldn’t drink those if I even wanted to, those are for emergencies, remember?”

Right, I told him that those were for dire situations…

“Fine, go ahead. Drink up. But don’t mess up the sheets, I like these.”

He pivoted his leg and moved backwards, taking me with him. As soon as I blink, he’s on top, his hands securing my wrists to the bed. I look up at him and his glow-in-the-dark bloodthirsty eyes.

“I’ll try not to. But no promises,” he said in a semiwhisper before he leaned down to feel my neck with his lips.

Everytime he did that, it made me jolt cause it tickled a bit. I try to hold still so he won’t yell at me, though. His fangs pierced my throat--ironically, his fangs were as cold as icicles in Alaska. As the stinging sensation of the bite intensifies, I began to hear him swallow my essence as if it were a fine wine that he brewed himself. Imagining him working in a winery helped me distract myself from the slight pain his bite brought.

As quick as he started, he released his hold and sat up. Some of my blood ended up slightly below his lip and without breaking eye contact, he licked it away. My face rose in heat for whatever ungodly reason and I look away, finding solace in the moonlight seeping through the window in the other room.

He grabbed my chin and redirected my gaze to him.

“Why are you blushing?” His eyebrow went up as he questioned me.

OH GOD NO.

“You-you remember when you told me that people who get bitten are prone to feeling a strange warm feeling once the vampire withdraws? That’s what’s going on, now I’ll go back to sleep like you asked,” I said quickly, trying to dodge the situation.

I try to lay back, but his hold tightened, forcing me to stay in that position.

“Yes, while it is true that humans might feel warm after a vampire bite, they typically don’t turn into a tomato with the outrageous blush on your face.” A smirk appears on his face, which is completely foreign to me. I never once saw him smile or experience any sort of joy. I mean, except when he’s drinking his enemies dry.

“Little girl,” he said deviously, as if he’s plotting something with this newfound information. “Tell me why are you blushing this instant.”

“I plead the fifth,” I said, looking toward the moonlight once more.

“Little girl…” he repeats as if he’s about to scold a child. “I will torment you if you don’t tell me, so I suggest that you tell me.”

I figure that I shouldn’t test a vampire who used to extort people for information, so with a nervous breath, I open my mouth and…

“Okay, fine…! I kinda liked seeing that licking motion you did, are you happy now?”

He laughs, throwing his head back in amusement. Even his laugh is filled to the brim with superiority.

“Oh,” he giggled, looking back down at me. “How I love discovering your weaknesses. I thought you would’ve been more stubborn, considering that I wanted to know something so utterly embarrassing.”

He lies back down, bringing me in for a cuddle.

“But yes, I’m happy now, little girl. Now go back to sleep.”

(～￣▽￣)～ You made it to the end, yay!

[cilil]

Dark romance prompts request - Stalking - Maedhros/Fingon/Melkor

dark romance prompts

♡ prompt: stalking & interspecies sex (rare pair bingo)* | Maedhros x Fingon x Melkor ♡ synopsis: Fingon chances upon Maedhros in the wilderness Valinor and makes love to him - or does he? ♡ warnings: identity theft & related consent issues**; also obligatory reminder that they're half-cousins ♡ short oneshot (~900 words)

**the rare pair part is ofc not the Russingon, it's Melkor's involvement

**Mae is enthusiastically consenting to doing this with Finno, but... well... you see the prompt, characters and warnings, so...

"Maitimo." 

Maitimo looked up from his book when he heard Findekáno's smooth, deep voice and saw him smiling down at him. 

"Finno!" He quickly closed it and rose to his feet to greet him. "What are you doing here? I didn't even hear you coming." 

Findekáno chuckled and interrupted his efforts to peck his cheek in greeting by pulling him into a kiss. Lips on lips, heat, that familiar smell... Maitimo melted into his embrace, closing his eyes. 

The twins, he mentally assured himself, should be gone for a few more hours anyway. 

"I had a feeling I would find you out here today," Findekáno said when they parted. "Still, I consider myself no less lucky to be greeted with the sight of the most beautiful prince of the Noldor." 

"There is no need for either flattery or formality," Maitimo replied, though the warmth in his voice and the blush on his cheeks betrayed his true feelings. 

"Are you sure?" Findekáno's hand travelled down his back, stopping just above the curve of his backside. "Perhaps I could find a form of flattery that's more agreeable to you?" 

Breathlessly, Maitimo laughed. This time he was the one to pull his secret lover into a kiss. "I wouldn't say no to that..." 

It was not the first time they did something like this, stolen moments of intimacy when they managed to have time to themselves away from family and political obligations. Kisses and touches swiftly grew bolder, and Findekáno wasted no time gently pushing his half-cousin to the ground and getting on top of him. He was radiant in the light of Laurelin, Maitimo thought dreamily, bathed in a warm golden glow that made him look so beautiful and regal, as if he was no Elf at all and one of the Ainur instead. 

"I want you, Maitimo." Findekáno's eyes darkened with desire, as did his voice. There was something commanding in his tone, but Maitimo found himself more turned on than concerned or offended. Between the ambiguous, polite things he would be told at court and his brothers being either secretive and closed off or demanding, it was refreshing to hear another calmly state his intentions. 

And it was flattering as well, to be desired by a loved one. 

Thus Maitimo happily acquiesced, helping Findekáno undress both of them and turning to lie on his stomach when asked. He spread his legs eagerly, moaned when one finger entered him to start preparing him and sang his lover's praises. 

"That's it," Findekáno whispered to him in-between movements and, "well done." 

In his lustful haze, Maitimo barely noticed that he was less patient than usual, that he held him more firmly, that his cock penetrated him faster and more roughly. All he could think of was Findekáno desiring him so badly that he couldn't help himself and how loved and wanted it made him feel; no word of protest ever left his lips, only the occasional pained grunt when his body was pushed to its limits. 

Little was left of the grace and dignity of two Noldorin princes as they made love in the wilderness of Valinor, more akin to amorous couplings of Yavanna's kelvar. Findekáno had long since seized a fistful of his lover's hair to make him arch his back, thrusting as hard and deep as he could, and their voices chased a couple of birds away. His stamina was remarkable, Maitimo dimly noted, particularly for being in such a lustful mood, but he was too far gone to dwell on it. 

They continued their lewd liaison until they were both exhausted, panting heavily and covered in sweat, as well as other liquid remnants of their love-making. Maitimo wanted to turn around to properly snuggle up to his lover in post-coital bliss, only to find himself unable to when Findekáno's weight on top of him kept him in place. 

"Rest now, Maitimo. I shall keep you warm." 

There it was again, his mother-name in place of his epessë. He almost hadn't noticed it earlier in his surprise and excitement, but now that he was lying still and coming down from his high, the drowsiness overcoming him was tinged with confusion. 

Findekáno's lips grazed the back of his neck, feeling strangely cold. 

It must be because we both got so heated, Maitimo thought and closed his eyes to rest. 

He hadn't even realised that he had fallen asleep until he once again heard Findekáno's voice, louder this time and filled with worry. 

"Finno?" he mumbled, squinting up at him. "What's wrong?" 

"You ask me what's wrong?" Findekáno shook his head. "I was looking for you because I just happened to run into Tyelkormo who, when I asked about you, said that the twins came home hours ago without you — and now I find you sleeping naked in the middle of nowhere."

He glanced down at his half-cousin's body and added, "Though it seems as if you... enjoyed yourself at least."

"What are you saying, Finno?" Alarmed, Maitimo rose to a seated position. "You were there. You made love to me. You told me to rest." 

"No, Russo." Findekáno's brow creased with worry. "I did no such thing. I swear I only just came here. Whoever was with you, it wasn't me." 

Maitimo suddenly felt an ice-cold shudder go through him. "Then someone else wore your skin to take advantage of me." 

Thanks for reading! ♡

taglist: @i-did-not-mean-to @saintstars @urwendii

[nanaloveswo-men]

hi nana, hahshwjs love ur name! i would love to read something about richarlison, maybe waking up with him not letting u go <33

like a baby - richarlison

pairing: richarlison x reader

summary: you had promised to youserlf that you wouldn’t stay in bed all morning anymore, but apparently, richarlison had other plans.

warnings: most fluffy, a little suggestive but nothing explicit.

author notes: hauaha thank u! this name is like *chef kiss* i'm gonna be honest, i constantly think about richarlison not wanting to let you go in the morning, like, c'mon he just wants to stay with u

girl we need more richarlison fics in this app

thank you for this amazing request!

word count: +900 

“oh god, you’re like a baby”

You woke up to the sound of your’s cellphone’s alarm, the beat repeating again and again inside your head, slowly taking you out of the dreamland.

‘7 a.m’

A groan came out of your throat when you saw the time on the clock.

Ok, in the begging of the year, you had promised to yourself that you would wake up early, wanting to make your morning more productive, but now, when you were actually having to keep up with the promise, you were regreting all your decisions.

You sat on the bed, looking around the room trying to get used to the morning glow. You couldn’t help but let your eyes take a glance at your still sleep boyfriend. Richarlison was seeing to be having the best sleep of his life after yesterday’s game. 

After struggling a lot, Totthenham was able to won against Chelsea, and the whole team were more than happy, one of the boys throwing a little party at his house to celebrate, and of course, Richarlison wouldn’t be out of it. So, it was no surprise for you when, at 3 a.m, he called you, kind of drunk, asking if you could get him. 

The room was in a scary silence, the only sound being the little snoozes escaping from Richarlison’s lips, and being honest, for you, this was actually really cute. You stare at his pretty face for some minutes, not wanting to leave him.

Finally finding the courage to get up to start the day, you scretched your legs, sliding them out of bed. Your feet touched the cold floor, your eyebrowns frowning with the feeling.

When you were almost enterily out bed, you felt an arm passing around your waist, pulling your body back to the mattres. 

“Where are you going?” Richarlison’s morning voice never failed to make you shudder.

Now he was looking at you, his eyes almost closed, but still staring at your soul. From his voice tone, you could tell that he was annoyed, probaly because you were trying to sneak out of bed, leaving him alone in the process.

“Need to get up” you whispered, moving closer to him. “You don’t need to get up, amor” the portuguese pet name made you smile. “Yes i do. I made a promise to myself” you tried to move his arm off your waist, but it was gripped.

“So make a promise to me, that you aren’t going to leave” he said with a puppy smile, and you just rolled your eyes. “Stop being dramatic, i’m not leaving you, i’m just getting out of bed” you explained scratching his hair.

“It’s the same thing” Richarlison wasn’t having any of your bullshits, if he wanted to be in bed with you all the morning, he would.

“Babe, you should recover from last night party” you said trying to make him give up. “And i need you here for this” he wouldn’t let you go.

Tired of this shit, your boyfriend decided to end this conversation by trapping you under his body, his head resting on the crock of your neck. Now, you couldn’t leave him.

“Oh god, you’re like baby” you said laughing at his actions. 

You really tried to fight him, your hands pushing his body off you, but even if he was sleepy, he was still stronger and heavier than you.

You stopped when he pinched your side, giving you a silent warning.

“Good girl” he complimented you when he noticed that you had given up. “You are ruining my new year’s promise, babe” you faked a sad smile. “And you are ruining my day off, leaving me all alone here” you couldn’t see his face, but you knew that he was smirking.

You let a tired sigh, knowing that discussing with Richarlison was a lost battle.”You’re gonna be the end of me” you mumbled into his hair.

With a victorious smile, your boyfriend changed positions, wanting to see your pretty face. Now you two were side to side, his eyes staring down at you.

Richarlison couldn’t help but smile he when he saw your puckered lips, your face in a faked sulked expression. He pinched your nose and cheeks, making fun of you “Who is acting like a baby now, huh?” he teased.

“Shut up, this is all your fault” you slapped his hand, trying not to smile and ruin your little show. Richarlison pulled you close, hugging you. One of your legs was around his waist, your hands flat against his chest.

“Gonna make it worth for you, amor” he said carressing your tight. “I hope so” you whispered getting comfortable in the new position.

You two were in silence, just enjoying the physical touch and the lazy morning. When you less expect, you were falling back to sleep, your eyes getting heavier and heavier each time you blinked. You looked to up to see Richarlison’s face, and you noticed that he was in the same sleepy mood like you.

“You won this time, babe” you said against his chest. “Yeah, but i’m sure that you are enjoying this too” he was passing his fingers through your hair, putting you back to sleep.

“Maybe you’re right” you left a soft moan. “I know” he kissed your forehead “Don’t worry, promise i’ll make sure that the rest of your day is going to be very productive” you pinched his tummy, rolling your eyes to his malicious tone.

“Sleep. Now” you ordered.

You couldn’t resist anymore, in less than five minutes before you were back to the dreamland, your boyfriend’s presence was just too comfortable.

After this day, Richarlison, promised to himself that he would never let you leave the bed when he was there.

[magpiepills]

Code Duello

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Ezra x Marcus Moreno

Word count: 900

Summary: Marcus and Ezra find themselves in a standoff!

Warnings: SMUT! Frottage, grinding, big dicks, bigger dicks, foreskin, cum play, hand jobs, m/m, weapons.

A word from the author: This is a repost. This shortie is the result of a post asking what would happen if your tumblr pfp met your discord pfp. At the time my discord was just a close up of a glaringly well-defined bulge and I decided that maybe it was Marcus.

The two men are locked in a standoff. A tense moment, neither man wants to make a move, but when Ezra goes for his thrower, the other man charges him and disarms him. They grapple, but Ezra eventually winds up on top of his opponent, straddling his hips and breathing hard, he holds the other man’s wrists in one hand while he uses the other to aim his recovered pistol.

Marcus winces, waiting for the blast, and as he struggles in Ezra’s grip, he rocks his hips against Ezra’s ass.

Ezra feels the way Marcus moves and though he doesn’t say anything, a tiny bulb lights up in the back of his mind.

Marcus doesn’t take his eyes off the gun that is pointed directly at him, but behind it he can see Ezra’s snarl soften into a dark smirk. Sees the way his head tips down as he adjusts his stance and tilts his hips just a tiny bit, a fraction of a degree to better feel the way Marcus’s now hard cock is pressed against his ass. It’s a risk, but risks are all that Marcus has left, so he plants his feet and lifts his hips, biting his bottom lip. He forces himself to look away from the gleaming rail gun to stare back at Ezra.

“Is this how you make a deal? You wait until you’ve been bested and then you play the trollop? You think a little simpering will win you my mercy?” Ezra chuckles and sighs. “You are a lamentable man.”

Marcus is silent save his heavy breaths and, he is certain, the pounding of his heart.

Ezra tightens his grip on Marcus’s thick wrists and slides his hips back to grind against the doomed man’s cock. Ezra is hard in his suit, straining against his tight undershorts, weeping from his slit, throbbing for want of contact.

Both men groan.

“No. No, I think you just know when you’ve been had. You’re a smart man, Marcus. And I think your dying wish is to get your ass filled by the biggest cock in the system. Marcus you are in luck, because you have been fortunate enough to find the biggest cock, but I’m sorry to say I don’t grant wishes. I just know a whore when I see one. So what I am going to do for you is admittedly more out of my own need for relief than for yours so don’t think you’ve got this all parsed out.”

Marcus could only blink and stammer, unsure of exactly what Ezra was telling him.

Ezra rocked his hips, settling himself on the saddle of Marcus’s own. He slid back, giving himself access to roughly unzip the fly of the defeated’s suit. His cruel, smiling eyes never left Marcus’s face as he reached in to free his cock.

“Marcus, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you liked sparring better than you let on.”

“You’re not immune.” It was risky to backtalk the man who was pointing a gun at you, but Marcus had felt Ezra growing steadily harder against his groin, thick and heavy, grinding into him softly as he held his cock in his rough hands.

“No, I don’t suppose I am.” Ezra’s voice was a little softer, more glowing ember than raging fire as his gave flicked from Marcus’s eyes to his full lips, parted in a pout.

Without another word, Ezra opened his own suit, stroking himself, rolling his palm over the weeping head before sliding it against Marcus’s length. He admired the similarities in their size, the way their foreskins slipped against each other, the rare reprieve from brutality. He could have gotten lost in it, but reality suddenly snapped him back, This is your foe.

Refocused, Ezra released both turgid members and aimed his rail gun with both hands. “Hold ‘em. Just like I was. Both hands.”

Marcus’s hands shook and he reached to hold them in his warm, smooth grip. He looked at the gun, at Ezra’s dark, glazed eyes, at their cocks, flushed and smeared with their combined precum. He circled his hands around them, and Ezra began to thrust into his hands, against the other man’s cock.

For the first time, Ezra was silent. No sounds but their heavy breaths and the soft sounds of skin on skin. Marcus adjusted his own pace slightly, pushing forward on Ezra’s withdrawal, pulling back on Ezra’s thrust. He whined, arched, drew close to his release. He wondered if it would be better to come first or last. As if reading his mind, Ezra answered, breathless, wrecked. “Together.” Marcus nodded, doubling down on his efforts, flexing his fingers around them, and daring to look right into the dark eyes above him.

Ezra’s head dropped, exhaling harshly as his milky cum mixed with Marcuses, painting Marcus’s stomach, landing messily on his tight black tshirt.

As if released from a spell, Ezra sat back on the ground, shoulders loose and relaxed, mind empty. Marcus propped himself up on his elbows, surveying the mess that had been made of him. Neither spoke for a comfortable few moments, until Ezra sighed wearily, leaning up to lazily smear an upper case E before dragging his hand down Marcus’s thigh, patting it gently.

He spoke, voice regretful. “I’m going to give you a ten minute head start, Marcus. Don’t let me catch you again. It won’t end like this a second time.”

[bluestar22x]

Colic

Colic: A Baby Fever Oneshot

Summary: You find Marcus by Rylee's crib in the middle of the night

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!(Wife)Reader

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Fluff, angst, dedicated dad Marcus (swoon worthy)

Word Count: 900(ish)

Author's Note: Parenting can be rough sometimes, but they've got this

xxx

It was the first thing you noticed besides how dark it still was outside: the spot beside you in your bed was empty.

Still drowsy from sleep, you swept a hand over it but couldn't tell how long it had been unoccupied by the temperature difference alone. It was too subtle, September still too warm to cool the ruffled bedsheets.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, but you knew it was your uncomfortably full bladder that had drawn you out of your slumber too early rather than the impending storm.

It was strange, being stirred by something other than Rylee's cries in the middle of the night. It had only been six weeks since her birth, but you'd become accustomed to it, as exhausting as it was.

Especially since her late night routine had become off kilter as of late, your poor daughter having turned into a victim of painful bouts of colic that Dr. Harrington couldn't explain. Or at least she couldn't find a specific reason, which was apparently common with infants.

Though she couldn't give you a reason or a solution, besides giving Rylee time to grow out of it, Dr. Harrington had assured you that it wouldn't have any long lasting affects on her, so at least there was that.

You sighed heavily and did your best to sneak out of bed to relieve yourself in the bathroom down the hall, before beginning a search for your missing husband.

You didn't have to look for long.

Your lips pulled up into a ghost of a smile and you shook your head when you found Marcus exactly where you'd suspected him to be, on the floor in Rylee's nursery. He was in nothing but his boxers, back pressed against the rails of the crib and chin tipped into his chest, obviously asleep.

It wasn't the first time that week that you'd found him beside her crib, trying to soothe her with his presence.

"Marcus," you called out from the doorway, volume no louder than a whisper.

He startled at the sound of his name and stared up at you with bleary eyes. "Oh, hey, what are you doing up?"

You leaned against the door frame on one shoulder. "I could ask you the same thing."

He rubbed at his face with the base of his palms and peered over at Rylee, who was still sound asleep in her crib, chest rising and falling peacefully. A sight for sore eyes.

He pushed himself off the ground, grimacing and clutching at the lower section of his back as he attempted to straighten up. He must've been on the ground for a long while if he was that sore, you thought.

"You're going to destroy your back if you keep sitting on the floor next to her crib like that," you warned him as he approached you.

"I'll keep that in mind," he responded, and you shook your head again, knowing full well that as long as Rylee wasn't feeling good he'd end up on the floor again and again anyway. He'd do anything for his little girl, that much was clear, even if that meant destroying his body to give her a little comfort. You loved him all the more for it, though you did wish he would at least sit in the rocking chair instead.

It was quite possible he was too tired for such rational thought.

"How long have you been up?" you inquired. "How did I miss her crying?"

Rylee's colicky cry was hard to miss, a wail of pain that broke your heart every time you heard it, and split your ears anytime you were even in the vicinity of her. You could've been physically knocked unconscious and you still would've woken up to it. Except that you hadn't this time, apparently.

"I had to take a piss and heard her starting to whimper on the way back from the bathroom," he explained. "What time is it?"

"A little past four in the morning," you said, remembering the glimpse of the red glowing numbers on the nightstand's old digital alarm clock you'd gotten on your way out of the master bedroom.

"I've been in here for around an hour then," he guessed.

"Was it the colic?"

He nodded somberly. "Yeah. I assume so. I was able to calm her down before she got loud, but she did sound uncomfortable and her diaper was clean."

You made a face at him, one twisted with the distaste of hearing about your baby being in any kind of distress. "This sucks."

"Yeah." Marcus turned to look towards the crib again, a disheartened expression forming on his face. "I wish I could do more for her."

"Me too," you said, reaching up to rub one of his bare upper arms. "But there's only so much we can do. And she'll be better off with parents who are awake enough to tend to her. Come back to bed. Next time she cries, I'll take a turn. It'll probably be because she's hungry anyway."

He hesitated for a moment, but your logic and his fatigue won out. He ran a hand through his sleep tussled hair. "Yeah. Okay."

Marcus trailed you back to your shared bed and you both rolled over onto your sides so you were facing each other.

"You're the best dad," you assured him.

"And you're the best mother," he declared, thumbing your cheek.

You smiled through the fog already creeping back over you, eyes at half mast. "Get more shut eye, honey."

You both fell asleep in record time.

xxx

Tagged: @amyispxnk @harriedandharassed

xxx

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

xxx

[ridestomars]

MY MEMORY HAS JUST BEEN SOLD – E. MUNSON HEADCANONS

𖥻 summary: a few headcanons about this concept about rockstar!eddie. 𖥻 pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x model!reader. 𖥻 warnings: fluffy ig. not proofread.

💭 liv's thoughts: i can't stop thinking about this so i developed the few ideas i had!! totally gonna write more about this later lmao. i hope you like it! oh, i just posted my 900 followers celebration, so feel free to join!

DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS WORK IF YOU'RE UNDER SIXTEEN.

🎸ㆍBeing just another girl from the small and narrow-minded town of Hawkins, you were never much ambitious about your own dreams, trying to keep them as down-to-Earth as possible. But now you can't help but be amazed at how far you've come as you stare at the February issue of Sports Illustrated magazine with your picture on the cover. 

🎸ㆍAll the stress you felt while posing in that sparkly and very itchy bikini was worth it, you recognize now. You don't think you've ever looked this good in your entire life, and it was certainly the achievement of all your past daydreams. 

🎸ㆍYou have done a few photoshoots throughout your life, but none felt this real or this big. Those small TV commercials and good-girl ads on the interior pages of Seventeen Magazine had nothing on this. The cover meant you were in the same category as the other recognizable names in the industry, and your agent made sure that your gigs were on that level, too: editorials for Vogue, New York, Milan, and Paris Fashion Week, meetings with Gianni Versace and Todd Oldham. 

🎸ㆍYou were getting big, and your lifestyle grew bigger with you. After establishing yourself in Los Angeles your routine consisted of trips to New York, couture fittings, photoshoots, parties until early in the morning, and repeat. Sleep was important, too, though it was never your top priority. 

🎸ㆍEvery time you were out doing something impressive, like getting your pictures taken by Steven Meisel on top of Brooklyn Bridge, wearing only a Chanel gown and no shoes, a little voice in the back of your mind wondered what your friends back in Hawkins might be thinking of you now. 

🎸ㆍIn all honesty, you were never popular, like Steve Harrington or Cindy Cunningham. You have always kept a girl-next-door profile, being nice to everyone who decided to talk to you, but also preferring the company of your intimate circle of friends and staying in, instead of attending those big High School parties. So, you can only imagine their surprise to find out that the model in one of those magazines is you. If they even care. 

🎸ㆍYou just never expected to be answered by bumping into a very familiar face at the Rainbow, on one of your nights out with your LA friends. Sunset Strip was about a mile long, and yet, you two had met again as you were passing by to get back to your table. 

🎸ㆍ"Hey, hotshot," Eddie Munson greeted you with a playful smile, his big brown eyes drifting down your figure before settling on yours. He hasn't changed at all. Long dry hair, slightly flushed cheeks, and that same mischievous gleam in his eyes. He wore his old jean vest, the one with the metal bands patches. The only thing that was different was his new shiny leather jacket, which glowed under the bar's yellow lights. 

🎸ㆍThen, you go to sit at his table, where the rest of his band was. Corroded Coffin was grabbing headlines everywhere in the country, mainly because of their new approach to Metal, composing elaborate guitar riffs and melodic choruses, making commercial music but with that underground edge. But also because of their Dungeons and Dragons inspired songs, which weren't well received by the older audience and labeled as Satanic. Because of this, their albums all have the increasingly popular 'Parents Advisory' sticker. 

🎸ㆍThey are also known to make Nerd-Metal music, which was a genre specifically created to describe their music. Just one album out and they're already infamous. 

🎸ㆍAs far as you remember, Eddie Munson already had a reputation for himself back at home, but now that he had one hundred percent surrendered to the rockstar lifestyle, his notoriety was unprecedented. He was in every music magazine, every TV channel and everyone seems to know who he is – something that he handles more gracefully than you thought he would. Eddie seems to really like the attention. 

🎸ㆍWell, next thing you know, you're standing at the side stage of Corroded Coffin's gig at The Troubadour, and Eddie merrily walks up to you holding a backstage pass. I believe it's needless to say that this was the first of many passes to come.

🎸ㆍThe beginning of your relationship wasn't easy at all, given your busy schedules. It seemed like whenever you had free time, he had an interview; or when he could spend the entire day at his hotel room, hanging out, you had to leave for another tiring photoshoot. It took a long while until you figured out how to make things work. 

🎸ㆍBut you have to admit that those late-night escapades to his rented room in Chateau Marmont are forever engraved in your mind. Besides the endless partying, there was nothing better than laying on Eddie's side while he lazily played guitar for you, as you shared one of those long lounging chairs by the hotel's poolside. 🎸ㆍHe swears he had never written as many songs as he did when you did that. The thought of you, laying so gracefully on that chair with the sun coming up above you, on the horizon… man, it inspires him to the max. 

🎸ㆍTogether, you started to build the reputation of an it-couple, or whatever those teenage magazines say about you. All you know is that his fans also became your fans, especially the young girls. Suddenly, it was like Corroded Coffin's concert audiences became a sea of mini-yous – wearing clothes reminiscent of your style, haircuts similar to yours, eyeliner just as smokey.

🎸ㆍAppearing on the cover of gossip magazines started to be normal for the two of you. People would start the most outlandish rumors about your relationship, and according to the issues, you got married exactly ten times throughout 1994.

🎸ㆍBut your rising fame as a couple also brought the most recognized campaign of your career so far: the Guess Jeans advertisement you shot walking through West Hollywood, just living another normal day of your lives – well, with constant wardrobe changes. There were a bunch of really good pictures, like the one of you in all-denim at a record store, holding Corroded Coffin's new album; one where Eddie is sitting on top of a random motorcycle (he tried to buy it off the owner on the spot, but the offer was rejected) with his usual jeans and leather jacket combo; and finally, one of you two walking on Hollywood's Walk of Fame. His arm is thrown on top of your shoulders as you hold his hand, and the picture captures your matching boots perfectly. 

🎸ㆍEddie requests for that photo to be printed on a big canvas so that he could hang it up on his living room wall, and it's his main decor item ♡

LIKES, REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED!

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[thomine]

sheep in wolf's clothing : tartaglia

pair: tartaglia x reader info: teens & up, graphic description of violence, stabbing, blood, longevity au where humans do not die unless killed in a very specific way, not proofread

summary: in a world where humans are blessed with longevity, the only way to end a person's fate is to find their achilles heel. you know where childe's weakness is, but is that the real reason why he keeps you around?

word count: 900 words series: day 3 of au august 2023 / prompt: tattoo links: work tag

Everyone wears their heart on their sleeve, except it’s not always on the sleeve. Sometimes it’s behind the ear, under the forearm, on the neck… the spot of vulnerability marked by a small tattoo—find it, strike it, and the person, no matter how fast he heals, will fall. That is the law of this world.

“Look out!” you shout, hoping your desperate plea reaches the ginger who’s the epicentre of a fight in the alleyways. He ducks before the dude targeting him from behind could drive the knife through his spine. He finds the blade stuck in his neck instead, and in that moment their eyes meet, the ginger, Childe, grins.

In the attacker’s last attempt to turn the tides, he grabs onto Childe’s collar and tugs. The buttons come loose, exposing a chest clean of scars, and, most importantly, a mark.

Childe lets the man gawk before buttoning up his polo shirt, eyes glowing with danger as he takes a step closer. He grabs onto the chin of the attacker, twisting his head enough to silence an oncoming scream.

“Bingo,” Childe mutters when he notices a tattoo just above the man’s collarbone. It has been covered with makeup, but the constant flow of sweat has thinned the layer. He rips the knife from his neck, barely wincing, and presses it on the mark.

The man falls limp in Childe’s arms and is then tossed to the ground to add to the scene of bodies littered around him.

You close your eyes, unsure how to feel after witnessing all that and growing numb to it. Your partner (it’s complicated) glides towards you with pride puffed in his chest. He slings his arm over yours and gives his thanks as usual.

“Now, where were we?” Although there are traces of blood on his clothes, the wound closed as if he wasn’t just stabbed. His fingers grace over your left chest where your tattoo hides while you place your hands on his back, just above his hips. His touch drives a tingling sensation throughout your body—you hope yours reminds him of his weakness too.

“You said you were going to show me something,” you reply, trying to keep up with his strides. “That… wasn’t it… right?”

Childe chuckles and grabs your hand before he quickens his pace and shoves you in position.

“Follow me,” he says, pulling you along with him as he pushes past bystanders rushing towards the crime scene.

Some would call you Childe’s lover with how he always has you around. Others might look at you pitifully, aware of the way he holds your hand like a leash. Those who have seen you grown understands it’s nothing unusual. Since you were both kids, Childe would take the lead and you’ll watch his back.

“Childe,” you mumble, trying not to fumble this rise in emotion gnawing in your chest. “Ajax,” you say firmly, and it’s only then does he pause to consider your voice.

“We’re almost there.”

“Who were those guys first.”

Childe shrugs. “They’re dead.”

You sigh, squeezing his hand. “You know that’s not what I want to hear.”

He stops in his tracks. “If it’s your safety your concerned about, I’ve added a fake mark on you to throw them off guard. But have I ever let you down while defending your front?”

“I’m worried for your safety—”

“I have you,” he concludes. “I’ll always have you.”

He stops in his tracks. Just ahead is a quaint coffeeshop with neon signs and vines climbing up its walls. It sits snugly among the high-rise buildings of the city. It would have been a delightful sight to see if not for Childe’s towering stubbornness you’re forced to face.

“You said you wanted to try this coffee store, didn’t you?” he quips as he drags you towards the entrance. “

“With my other friends,” you correct. “You know how they feel about you.”

“Will there be a difference?”

“No…” you lower your gaze although there’s nothing to hide. Childe hardly ever turns and stares into your eyes. It’s a privilege only his enemies share with him.

“You’re getting tired of me, aren’t you?”

When you raise your head, you’re surprised to find him tilting his face to look at you. It catches you off guard when you remember that the spark his eyes held like a guiding star has vanished.

You take in a deep breath.

“No, Childe. You’re getting too comfortable with a version of me I am not.”

He emits a single blow of air; the birth of a laughter that could not finalise itself.

“Who am I to you?” you add, steeling your feet to the ground even if he’s pulling you along.

“Must we settle it now?”

“I can’t let you continue pulling me around, can I?” you probe. He glowers. “All I ever wanted was for you to actually face me, but because you have enemies on the hunt for your death, I was just a piece to advance your goals. Have you ever thought about what I wanted?”

He points to the café in front.

“You aren’t listening,” you say.

“It is not the right time.”

“Then when is? You’re always being chased by people. Don’t you think I’m tired of seeing you get hurt?”

“Do you think I’m that weak?”

“You know what? Maybe you are, and you know that deep down. I never needed someone to look out for me because I can see my mark clearly. But you—your weakness is out of sight. Why else would you so desperately cling to me?” You lift your intertwined hands. Even in such an awkward position, his back remains the main thing you see of him.

He is quiet.

“You don’t know what dangers lurks in the shadows,” he says before he looks ahead. “I’m doing it for us.”

author's note: this is slightly more worldbuilding heavy than my other works as i don't really have a strong understanding of tropes or patterns for such world. either way, if you are confused, let me know!

[snowdrrops]

CONSTELLATION

FEAT; jingyuan x fuxuan WC; 900 SUMMARY; Fuxuan and Jingyuan share moments of intimacy on a cold night

on ao3 here!

  Over the past few weeks, Jingyuan has had more than a few headaches, all of which having something to do with the Stellaron. The effects of the crisis have proved to be detrimental to the Luofu, and he can hardly wait to take further action to nip this problem in its bud. He’s been using up twice as much energy trying to devise a strategy for the aftermath of the situation, and how he can reduce the damages the Luofu has taken.

  His workload isn’t overwhelming to the extent that he finds it unmanageable, but it exhausts him nonetheless. Jingyuan uses his lunch breaks to spar or play a few rounds of chess with Yanqing, who is more pumped up than ever now that Blade and Kafka are on the run. The General has tried to advise him against challenging the Stellaron Hunters to a duel, but he’s afraid his words would fall on deaf ears, and that Yanqing might have to pay the price of his reckless actions. 

  He neither wants Yanqing to feel as though he’s under control and intense scrutiny, nor does he want to keep him from exploring his potential. But then again, safety is his top priority, no matter the circumstances.

  Jingyuan takes one glance at the growing pile of paperwork on his desk and decides to call it a day. Out of the blue, he feels his mind being pressed down by a heavy weight, and he briefly considers taking tomorrow off. He shoves the thought away quickly before it has the chance to take root in his mind. 

  As he enters his home and into his bedroom, Jingyuan spots someone in his bed.

  “A small, selfish part of me hoped you weren't going to return, and that I had your bedroom all to myself tonight,” Fuxuan says. She's lying against the stacked pillows, her figure illuminated by a lamp glowing in the corner of the room.

  “Home is where the heart is, they say,” Jingyuan answers, heading towards his closet and pulling out a fresh set of sleepwear. 

  “Pfttt, what rubbish have you been listening to?” Fuxuan continues, averting her eyes when Jingyuan begins to strip. “I would've appreciated a warning in advance, by the way.”

  He chuckles and plops down onto his bed beside her, wearing only a pair of pyjamas bottoms. A shudder goes through Fuxuan at their close proximity, and she hopes with her might that it goes unnoticed by him —

  “Did you just shiver?” Jingyuan’s voice penetrates her silent prayers. She can practically hear the smirk in his voice, and a shade of bright red rises to her face. 

  “No,” she simply replies, crossing her arms over her chest. “I have no idea what you're saying, General.”

  Amusement flickers across his face. Jingyuan shifts to close the few inches between them, choosing to ignore Fuxuan’s sharp intake of breath.

  She tries to peel her eyes off his toned back and muscles that were screaming for her touch. Jingyuan must've picked up on it, as he laughs and turns on his side, facing away from her. 

  Her breath gets caught in her throat.

  What Fuxuan least expects is a long, jagged scar that runs down from his upper back, all the way to his waist. It looks like it was inflicted some time ago, and she can only guess that it was from his time of being on the battlefield.

  His back is a canvas of scars all over. Most of them look as if they've been there for a few decades, while some of the minor ones were in the late stages of recovery. Wordlessly, Fuxuan reaches out her hand to graze the scar that runs along his back. 

  Jingyuan flinches, but doesn't recoil from her touch. He knows what she wants to say, but waits for her to ask.

  “How did this happen?” 

  “It was a major battle for the Cloud Knights. A battle that might've determined the state of the Luofu today. I was so occupied slaughtering enemies left and right that I forgot attacks could come from above as well,” he explains solemnly, traces of regret in his voice. “He was a formidable opponent, but not quite enough to defeat me.”

  Silence hangs in the air between them. Jingyuan is about to turn around before he feels Fuxuan’s warm, tingling breath on his back. Before his question can leave his lips, she says, “It's beautiful.”

  She places a slow, languid kiss on the scar, and Jingyuan freezes. This is on his list of what he least expected her to do, and a sudden sense of awe towards her overwhelms him. 

  Jingyuan feels her fingers now, slowly tracing his less severe scars as if forming new constellations. 

  “I'm glad you stopped fighting on the battlefield,” Fuxuan says. “You're more suited to your current position.”

  He chuckles lightly. “Is that a roundabout way of saying that my fighting prowess is lacking? I can assure you that is not the case, Fuxuan.”

  She groans. “I know, I know. It's just good that you're not exposing yourself to death and injury on a daily basis anymore.”

  Jingyuan shifts. “Ah, I see. What you meant was that you view my life as too valuable for such a risky occupation.”

He gets a swat on his shoulder and a scoff from behind him. “That's not what I— Whatever. Think what you like.” 

[eisbyl]

#EISBYL: SELECTIVE, HIGHLY PRIVATE [ BYLETH EISNER ] FROM INTSYS' [ FIRE EMBLEM SERIES ], INSPIRED BY SERIES LORE, HEAVILY HEADCANONED. UNDER21 DNI. STANDARD RULES APPLY. SHORT BIO AND VERSE INFO UNDER READ-MORE.

NAME:     byleth eisner   (though keeping in mind, not her true name) TITLE:     the ashen demon,   the fell-star,   the beginning* AGE:     verse dependent.   20   (beginning)   -   25   (time-skip).     (by default,   i write byleth post sothis-merger.)     immortal.     in a modern-verse setting,   her d.o.b. remains unchanged,   making her nearly 900 years old BIRTHDATE:     the 20th of the horsebow moon in imperial year 1159 GENDER IDENTITY:     nonbinary   (uses she   /   her pronouns) SEXUALITY:     bisexual FAMILY:     jeralt   (father,   deceased),   sitri   (mother,   deceased),   no other known family MARITAL STATUS:     single,   though she has assumed covers on many an undercover job AFFILIATION:     jeralt’s mercenary group OCCUPATION:    temporary professor at garreg mach monastery’s officer’s academy;    full-time mercenary HEIGHT:     175cm / 5ft9in WEIGHT:     around 200lbs / 90 kg. her bones are a lot heavier than human bones, so the muscles are in turn denser and heavier, as well. she's around 30 kgs heavier than others with a build similar to hers HAIR:     before the merger:     hair the color of deep oceans during a storm.     after the merger:     hair the color of seafoam EYES:     before the merger:     eyes the color of a polished lapis lazuli gemstone.     after the merger:     eyes the color of a polished chrysoprase gemstone

OTHER DETAILS: 

byleth’s hands   (her palms especially, but the backs of her hands too)   are littered with scars.     some that healed well, and are just smooth   /   faded skin, and some that didn’t.     some are from her childhood   /   from brandishing a weapon practically from birth and some are healed over wounds from before their merc group found a healer   /   before she learned basic healing magics.     she wears gloves and a light gauntlet set now

aside from her hands,   byleth has notable scarring in three places:     throat, chest, and abdomen.     the first scar is on the chest:     a heart transplant surgery scar.     it’s sizable and branches out at the upper half portion;   it starts at her sternum and travels up to the base of her clavicles.     the branch curves to the left.     the neck and abdomen scars are slash and stab wounds,   respectively,   old ones from when she used to fight a lot more recklessly and was prone to injuries at all

she has a pair of nipple piercings.     she had them pierced in the middle of a mission, around a year prior to her initial arrival at garreg mach

in canon, when she smiles, she never shows her teeth.     the reason for this is that if she were to grin, the appearance of her would make it obvious she’s not just human.     don’t ask her to show her teeth;   she’s practiced hiding them.     she’s practiced hiding everything that would make her visibly stand out

her eyes are prominent.     her gaze is piercing.     when the sun’s up, her eyes are easily noticeable because of the color   (and because she has very big eyes! very open eyes!),   but when the sun sets, they attain a distinct sheen to them that makes it appear as if they glow in the dark   (and they do.     i’m not creative).     prior to sothis’ soul merging with hers, this was subtle, but after her appearance changes, this vague sheen to her irises becomes immediately eye-catching, especially under the moon

LIKES:     her father first and foremost,   helping and listening to people   (specifically,   she relies considerably on outside sources,   and how useful she is to others,   to quantify her merit),   reliable allies,   smiles,   and being trusted.     she’s partial to animals and finds them easy to understand and communicate with DISLIKES:     senseless killing.     no other apparent dislikes OTHER:     her battle-oriented interests aside,   she has several more mundane hobbies.     she keeps a journal   (the intent of this is primarily functional,   as a record of her life;     she fears losing more of her memories),   dabbles in flower-pressing,   and,   like her father,   enjoys fishing in her free time.     another one of her hobbies is reading — life and poetry journals,   to be specific;     it was a way for her to learn more about human emotions,   and it offered insight that pure observation could not

PORTRAYAL NOTES: 

byleth can smell sickness.     her nose picks up on the subtle differences in a person’s scent,   regardless of whether it’s a minor or major illness 

she has the ability to wield fire.     this particular brand of magic is chantless,   and she can call to it at any given time,   without preparation or warning

suffers from chronic pains.     she has achieved complete control over her body and the visible symptoms   /   consequences of the pain,   so no one apart from her family knows

while she doesn’t have a heartbeat of her own,   she can hear other people's heartbeats,   even at a distance.     this,   alongside several other details,   makes her an incredibly difficult person to lie to

experiences frequent depersonalization-derealization disorder symptoms.     her symptoms are exacerbated in the aftermath of her five-year coma

she becomes attached to kindness easily — it makes her no easier to fool,   but it does make her more prone to forgive,   even in situations others would deem unforgivable

resistant to poisons,   up to a certain degree.     this has less so to do with her unique disposition and more with consistent,   careful micro-dosing

as the primordial goddess’s vessel,   and later becoming a goddess herself,   byleth can accelerate, decelerate, stop and reverse time.     again,   up to a certain degree

she doesn’t tend to use profanity.     there’s no special reason for this,   merely accustomance.     in addition,   the emotional enticement that’s attached to profanity is something she rarely feels

skilled at gambling,   and barring that,   any sort of skill-oriented game with high stakes   /   the possibility of earning money.   this is entirely due to her strategizing proficiency.     cards,   especially,   are only partially about luck.     success is more attributed to math,   being able to sell one’s hand,   and get a read on your opponent in turn — all her fortes

despite a non-existent heartbeat and no feasible way for her body to pump blood,   byleth’s body runs,   on average,   several degrees hotter than other human bodies.     her blood itself is hot,   as opposed to typically warm

VERSE INFO:     *   the major occurrences in fire emblem: three houses are fixed events in byleth’s story and permeate,   at least partially,   every one of her available verses.     it isn’t necessary to be familiar with the plot prior to interaction,   but these events will feature in all verse development

FIRE EMBLEM:      canon verse.     byleth is a mercenary,   part of her father’s troupe,   assuming a temporary teaching position at garreg mach officer's academy.     golden deer alignment,   thread-dependent.     once the goddess’s vessel,   now a goddess herself — the fell-star

GEN-MODERN:     more predisposed towards modern fantasy.     treats the events of fire emblem as having happened at some point in history.     byleth has adapted to modern society and functions accordingly.     adaptable to most modern-setting series

GEN-FANTASY:     similar to canon verse,   but less bound to a strict timeline,   treating the events from three houses as already having happened.     byleth is a traveling mercenary,   possessing a goddess’s soul

DRAGON AGE:     treats fodlan as a continent separate of thedas.     byleth is a repeat temporary resident of kirkwall during the events of dragon age 2,   specifically.     present for all of act 1,   after which she leaves thedas for fodlan where her canon verse runs its course,   for a total of six years.    she returns permanently for the events of act 3.     come inquisition,   it’s possible to recruit her as a companion

BALDUR’S GATE:     same as gen-fantasy,   but adhering to the events from baldur’s gate 3.     byleth is a prisoner aboard the nautiloid.     a multi-classed fighter and sorcerer

TBA:     i like developing verses for series my friends and mutuals enjoy, so if none of the verses listed apply to your muses, chances are i'd love to workshop something that would! message me :)

[maddisgonewild]

Forever Roaming

This is the first piece of work that I've posted on the internet and I'm incredibly nervous. I'm hoping for analysis, judgment, and advice on how to perfect my writing. It's a little over 900 words. I hope you all like this!

My feet felt numb as I gingerly stepped into the light. The air was crisp, cold, and fresh. I stood atop a tall hill encircled by low-lying trees as far as the eye could see, the golden glow of the sun cast upon their foliage. A breeze softly caresses my face with a mother's tender care and leaves just as quickly as it came. A small hand entangles itself with mine, its owner looking up at me with a look of pure adoration and innocence. Another pair of hands sink into my back from behind, pressing me forward. In front of me, a bright red door with a silver handle beckons me to it. I comply, walking hurriedly to it so as to not be rude. The door opens seemingly by itself, slowly. 

Inside, an old woman stands baring her teeth at me, and I feel frightened but heed the call to venture behind the red door. Walking past the door I enter a main room filled to the brim with hundreds of people, all who look the same. Their faces though, are different, yet each one has the same dead expression. A large broad-shouldered man approaches me, I look at his face and I find nothing in it. I look closer. Large almost blue bags hang from his eyes as if his skin could fall off at any moment, deep wrinkles adorn his entire face, and his teeth are bared. He takes my hand into his own, and I feel long sharp nails drive themselves deep into my flesh. Unable to move, I bare my teeth in response. The man then leaves and another comes to inspect me and another and another. Many faces flash in front of my own, melting into one, and my hands become covered in cold crimson blood. Something lining the ceiling of the room catches my eye so I look straight up. 

All around, dead animals were nailed to the walls, their now unseeing eyes glaring straight through me. Whatever heat I had left in my body exits through the soles of my feet and an ice-cold shiver runs through my spine. I stand rooted to the spot, unable to take my eyes off the walls in fear the animals would climb down and tear me limb from limb. A soft sensation in my fingers draws my attention away from the walls. I look down and the little hand has latched onto my pinky, cooing at my fear of touch. The sound of a silver bell rings clear and the dead faces march towards it in formation, I do too. We all return outside, the air noticeably colder since I was last outside. Our short walk ends once we come upon a large white table covered in every type of food imaginable, I’d never seen such delicious food before. The old woman who answered the door once before began to speak, her words were like water filling my ears, and I couldn’t comprehend them in the slightest. My attention was focused on the food, my body ravenous for something it never had before. The woman dips her head down and closes her eyes while continuing to speak, everyone does the same. I keep staring at the food, my pupils blown wide, and my mouth salivating so much it drips to the ground soaking the dirt. Hours seem to go by as I continue staring at the food and finally, the words invading my ears stop. In unison, everyone sits down all at once, violently fighting over the food. Snarling, rips, and snaps could be heard echoing and reverberating off the trees. The white tablecloth turns red, the liquid dripping and pooling onto the ground below. I looked at my plate and the crazed animalistic hunger I felt seconds to go disappeared. 

 On my plate was a pair of still blinking eyes, a twitching hand, and moist slivering worms. All of this was covered and contained in semi-transparent fluid that stunk like a bloated corpse. I clench my jaw to keep from violently retching, disgust hitting like a sledgehammer in my abdomen. Looking up, I found that the people surrounding me had stopped eating, their hungry gaze directed in my direction. Not a single sound could be heard except for the high-pitched wail of a bird calling out to me from afar. A few seconds pass and after correcting my posture, the men and women all turn away from me in sync. Curious about where the bird’s cries came from, I look beyond the veil of golden trees surrounding me. An emptiness settles into my chest and stomach, I feel hollow. Beyond, I see vast forests, tall grass, mountains, and valleys colored by twilight. Brilliant Gold, wispy pinks, and subtle orange colors taint the landscape. Tears threaten to spill over, I want to go. I want to leave. I want to escape, to be as free as the puffy clouds that endlessly travel the skies. I want to dash through the tall grass with no concept of time and no place to be. My feet move on their own and I find myself frantically running past the veil faster than I’ve ever run before. My heart thunders, my feet pound against the earth. A cacophony of rage-fueled wails and sorrowful sobs follow, but never reach me. I disappear into the tall golden grass, never to be seen again. 

Thank you for reading till the end, I hope ya liked it :)

[dilf-whore]

all for love

pairing: eddie munson x scarlet witch!f!reader

genre: angst (?), fluff

summary: eddie finds out your deepest secret

warnings: violence, gun, weapons

A/N: sorry for not posting for a while, school got really overwhelming lol. comments/reblogs/likes are appreciated! i hope you guys like this! 💙 also eddie in this gif tho 😵‍💫

requested: no

word count: 900

requests are OPEN

masterlist

𖤐 

Your hearts are beating fast, fear is all you could feel. How can Jason and his friends go this far? You know it’s all for Chrissy but this is too much.

Despite trying your best to explain to everyone that Eddie has nothing to do with the killings and yet, no one still believes you. Why would they? You were just a high school kid dating someone who they believe is a spawn of satan. No one will believe that other dimensions exist and a certain entity is behind all this.

Eddie no longer hears Jason and his friends behind you, “I think we lost them” he pants. You were both still on the move, you could still feel them nearby.

You hear the rushing footsteps once again, making you jump and face the school’s jocks. They’re surrounding you two, various of objects in their hands as weapons while Jason was pointing a pistol at Eddie. You go in front of your boyfriend without hesitation, shielding his figure with your trembling one.

“Y/N, just stay away from him before you become the next victim” The blonde boy pleads, his blue eyes filled with so much emotions: grief, rage, fatigue, and a hint of despair.

You hold on to Eddie’s wrist and shook your head firmly in response. Jason then sighs and points the gun at you now, you could tell that there’s still hesitation in him, you could read his mind. “Why do this?, why waste your future for this murderer?” he asks.

“I’m just like you. I’m doing everything that I can if it’s for the person I love the most”

Jason purses his lips, you are the same. You both would go to great lengths just for love. A tear escapes his cheek and cocks the pistol, “I’m sorry Y/N”.

You hold your free hand out, a bright red energy of some sort is on it and your eyes start to glow red as well. “No, I’m sorry”. 

Foreign words come out of your mouth as you cast a spell, you let go of Eddie’s hand who’s now staring at you with so much confusion. The eyes of Jason and his friends start to glow like yours and they drop their weapons in sync. So many strange things have been happening lately and now this - it was overwhelming for the metalhead.

Eddie takes a few steps back and watch as they leave you two alone like robots. 

You grabbed a hold on their mind and command them to go back home and continue on with their day like nothing happened. Your boyfriend watches as a wave of red light goes through everywhere as you erase everyone’s memory (excluding Eddie’s) on his involvement in the killings - making the case have no leads or any clues of some sort related to Eddie.

He calls your name after you’ve finished, “what did you do?” 

“Look, I-I, I’m not like Vecna, I swear!” you start.

“I have special abilities like, like, the girl Steve was talking about. But mine is different, it’s-it’s stronger” You look down on your feet as your eyes get teary, you know he’s gonna leave you because you just scared him and possibly scarred his life even more. “I didn't tell you because I don’t plan on using my powers, not until now” you sob.

“I know you’re scared of me and I-I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore but I promise you that I never used them for my advantage or to manipulate you - please b-believe me”

“J-just go home and tell the rest to do the same, don’t worry everyone has no memory of you as a prime suspect or being involved at all. I’ll be the one to kill Vecna” you add.

“What happens after?” he replies softly.

You finally meet his eyes, “I’ll leave Hawkins”

Eddie approaches you, “now I can’t let you do that”. He takes both you hand and examines them, his movements filled with curiosity and astonishment. “What are you talking about?” you ask, eyebrows furrowed. He could’ve ran away like he always do and what any other person should, but he didn't.

“You’re not leaving” he replies, looking at your face as he brushes his fingers over them. It seems like he’s examining you for injuries or maybe, he’s still amazed how your beautiful eyes just became more endearing with how it glowed moments ago. “I was really surprised and a little shaken with what you just did but, that doesn't change the way I feel for you, I actually think it’s cool the more I think about it”

“H-how do you know that I’m not lying? What if, what if, I’m also a bad-”

“I know you’re telling the truth, you’re a bad fucking liar for god’s sake. And no, you’re not evil because you have good intentions” he cuts you off.

Eddie pulls you into a hug, you could feel his heartbeat slow down and finally become steady. The cold wind blowing harshly against your skin but you still feel warm by the contact with him. “After this whole Vecna and Upside Down thing, tell me more about this powers of yours and show me all of the amazing things you can do”

“I love you okay? I always will” he reassures.

“I love you too. Thank you Eddie”

𖤐 

[tsukishumai]

[11:27pm]

pairing; tsukishima kei x gn!reader genre; fluff, friends to lovers wc; 900+ a/n; temp is in Celsius my fellow americans

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The weather report stated that today’s lowest temperature would be approximately twenty five degrees with a hint of a slight breeze. Skies were to remain clear in the foreseeable future, and the phase of the moon this evening was in Full. 

The rock you were currently sitting on was flat, smooth, and hosted the most perfect view of the city below. Lights were sprinkled across the buildings and houses, perfectly mirroring the starry sky above. 

From this perspective, you were so trivial. Cars were driving up and down the streets, husbands coming home to their wives, friends meeting up for dinner, life going on with no regard to the woeful eyes that scrutinized them in the distance. 

You tilt your head up, basking in the glow of the moon. Stars twinkled down at you in greeting from light years away. You wish you knew what other worlds they could see from their permanent fixture across the inky black canvas, or if they could even see you at all. 

Perhaps they were too far away; far from the work piling on your desk, far from the argument with your classmate over group projects, far from the lack of sleep and countless cups of ramen in your system. The stars pay no mind to whether you had the energy to shower, or if you broke down in your room crying about everything and nothing.

Suddenly, you were insignificant. Yet somehow, this begins to feel like a gentle comfort, embracing your thoughts in a soothing reassurance that maybe things weren’t as big as you thought they were. 

The wind blew around you a bit stronger than you anticipated, and the twenty five degrees was starting to feel more like twenty. You shivered in your spot, wrapping your arms around yourself in an attempt to retain heat. 

A heavy material was abruptly draped around your shoulders, spurring you to twist around in surprise. 

“Fancy running into you here,” Tsukishima comments, stepping back and placing a hand in his pocket. 

You stared at him in shock. “How’d you find me?” 

 “If I recall correctly,” He closes the distance between you in two strides, settling into the empty space next to you. “This was my hiding spot.” 

A huff of air escapes through your nostrils, scoffing to disguise the smile at the memory of the first time Tsukishima showed you these breathtaking views. 

Tsukishima may not seem like it, but he hates losing. And the bitter loss of his first ever national tournament had stained his mouth the entire ride back home. 

He knew you were following him after drop off, the concern on your face was etched as clear as glass. You tried to hide it at first, but soon the path Tsukishima followed became narrow and unpaved. There was a silent acknowledgement between the two of you as you abandoned your attempt at stealth and trailed two feet behind his footsteps. 

When he arrived at the dinky spot on top of the hill behind school, you were less than impressed. But he worldlessy sat on a rock that was flat, and smooth, and quietly left the space beside him free for you to take. 

You had wondered briefly why Tsukishima chose to come straight here after such a heartbreaking loss, but as soon as you sat down, you knew. 

You said nothing about the tears that flowed freely down his cheeks. He said nothing as you cried along with him. You liked to think your tears from that day had watered the dandelions that now grew in the cracks of the soil. 

You waited with bated breath for Tsukishima’s inevitable sermon. You wonder if he’s going to ask if you’re okay, or question why you were up there in the first place. Or maybe he’ll urge you to talk about your feelings, and spout out some motivational bull. 

But instead, Tsukishima says, “What kind of idiot comes up here without a jacket?”

You wrap the sleeves of his jacket around you a little tighter, sticking your tongue out at him before you say, “The tired kind of idiot.” 

He rolls his eyes, handing you a bag that you hadn’t noticed him hiding. You take it eagerly, sifting through the variety of all your favorite drinks and snacks. 

“I didn’t know what you liked,” Tsukishima lies through his teeth, “So I just picked up whatever. You’re hungry, right?”

An emptiness in your stomach makes itself known, and you deliberate just how long Tsukishima has known you so well. 

You pick out an aloe drink and a bag of chips. Tsukishima picks a sports drink and soba bread. He ate beside you in comforting silence, saying much more than he ever could with words. 

Tsukishima pulls out a set of wireless earphones, handing you the left earbud as he puts on the right. Your favorite song plays softly into your eardrums, and Tsukishima sits back without a word. 

He tilts his head at you when he catches you staring, and instead of his usual glare or irritated scowl, he offers you a soft smile. 

You smile back. 

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” You ask, your eyes never leaving his face. 

Tsukishima’s lips part slightly, a redness tinting his cheeks as he stares at you astonished. 

Slowly, he reaches out, and carefully laces his finger with yours. 

“I can die happy,” he responds. 

You lay your head on his shoulder, and he rests his head on top of yours. You close your eyes as you allow yourself to bask in the glow of Tsukishima Kei. Your insignificance begins to ebb away into the distance, and slowly replaced by the inkling that the universe was made just for the two of you to have this moment.