#i just recently had my first kiss and it was so underwhelming i just wanted to be in my house watching rescue 911

[wetslug]

.

[magpiefngrl]

writing patterns: last lines

I love the first lines meme, but what about last lines? I find them as vital as first lines, if not more. A first line should do a lot of things (indicate POV, tone, voice) while also catching the attention of the reader and inviting them to read on. But it can be invisible, just a way into the story, and that's perfectly fine because the story is what will amaze/impress/entertain the reader.

The last line, however, is the last impression: it can be a powerful punch, or it can be underwhelming. It's the vibe, the feeling, the aftertaste that the reader will carry with her when she closes the tab/book. It doesn't do as much work as the opening, but a really strong (or really weak) last line might colour what has come before.

For this game, instead of recent fics, I decided to check my longer fics; the last line of a longer piece of work sort of carries more weight, in my mind, idk.

Rules: write the last line of your 10 longest fics. What patterns can you see, if any? Which ones are your favourites?

Something I noticed: in my longer fics, I often have a short epilogue at the end of the story. Like a post-credits scene. I'm including both last lines for pattern-seeking. Also, a while ago, I'd done a before-during-after ask thing and posted some sequels at the end of a few fics. I debated using only the original ending here, but the sequel's last line is what will stay with readers, so I added both. Finally, The Boy Who Died has a coda but it's so long I'm treating it as a chapter.

I. 9 ½ Days (drarry, E, ~70k)

(story) Harry burrowed closer to him, eyes fluttering open. ‘You’re real.’ ‘I am.’ Draco tangled their legs together. It was snug under the covers. ‘Touch me and see.’

(epilogue) Harry took his hand and together they stepped forward into the green, living wood.

II. dirtynumbangelboy (drarry, E, 39.4k)

(story) ‘Home,’ Harry says, nuzzling Draco’s hair. ‘Take us home.’

(epilogue) He wants them to look smashing at the betrothal.

III. The Miseducation of Draco Malfoy (drarry, E, ~38k)

(story) Draco decided he would be happy to spend his life making Harry laugh, and thrust in.

(epilogue) “Let’s give them something good to talk about then,” Draco suggested, and Harry smiled, bent him backwards, and gave him a proper kiss, tongue and all.

IV. The Boy Who Died (drarry, E, ~27k)

Overthrowing the regime will take a miracle, Kingsley had said in the dark Edwardian manor. Draco had smiled at that and gazed at Harry. Indeed. Which is why we’ll win.

V. The Gift (drarry, E, ~26k)

Before [Draco] casts Nox, he takes a last look at his packed trunk, and then, in the whispering night, he allows himself to dream.

VI. Hush, darling (drarry, E, 23.6k)

But Draco holds Harry tighter — and doesn’t let go.

VII. The Unquiet Grave (drarry, E, 21.5k)

Draco glanced at Harry and smiled. ‘I’ll be fine. I have a bodyguard.’

VIII. Through the Looking Glass and What Draco Found There (drarry, E, 17.5k)

(original) This world was fucked up. It had pain and grief and sick people and dead people and stupid decisions and bad hair days and fear and regret—although it didn’t have Smith in leather gear, which was something. It also had Harry Potter, who buried his face in the crook of Draco’s neck, and who liked this Draco, the Death Eater Draco, and that made everything worth it.

(sequel) ‘Pull them down yourself,’ Draco said and kissed him.

IX. The Full Monty (drarry, E, 10k)

First, he goes to the kitchen to make sure Arthur is indeed alive — he is, nibbling at some seeds on the counter — but after that, yes, he goes straight to where Potter is waiting, hopefully all soapy and wet.

X. How to Court your Husband (drarry, E, 5,5k)

(original) Their escorts maintained a discreet distance when they arrived and saw what the princes were up to, and twenty minutes later in the palace courtyard, the Fountain spurted a jet of water the likes of which had never been seen before.

(sequel) Harry smiled and stroked Draco’s face. ‘We’re in no hurry, husband.’

Patterns

JFC. I like my epilogues and codas and sequels, don't I? Lord. I don't think I'd noticed it before as clearly as I do now. This isn't even everything: I actually started a coda for The Gift a while back, and I have a half-finished sequel scene for dirtynumb in my folders. I can just never leave off. But it's true: I do love epilogues.

I end with dialogue A LOT more than I start with it. First lines, I estimated a third of them are dialogue, but a good half of the endings are.

A large majority of my endings involve kissing or cuddling or touching in some way. Love language touch anyone?

There's a fair bit of Draco glancing at Harry and smiling.

In the two fics that have a sequel scene, the original ending is, imo, vastly superior to the sequel's. Hm.

Faves

I like the epilogue ending of 9 1/2 Days; the ending of Unquiet Grave, which works better I think in context; the rather poetic ending of The Gift; the original ending of Through the Looking Glass, which, imo, perfectly captures the theme; and the original ending of How To Court Your Husband, which is hilarious in context. Several readers commented on that one.

Tagging

I'll no-pressure tag @lettersbyelise @lqtraintracks @the-starryknight @skeptiquex @etalice @coriesocks @gracerene @citrusses @lower-east-side @hogwartsfirebolt @queenofthyme @writcraft @shealwaysreads @phdmama @stripedroseandsketchpads @sixappleseeds to get the ball rolling-- and of course YOU, reading this! Feel free to tag me so I can read your last lines, I'm ever so curious x

[irkimatsu]

Inspired by a post from @monstrousvoice! I inspire your stuff and you can inspire mine! (Let me know if you want your name or post taken off of this!)

It's Husk's birthday, and GN!Reader spoils him with some nice cigars, scotch, and most importantly, a blowjob. Porn without plot, that's all this is! References to feline anatomy because I'm a perverted furry. Also a bit of shotgunning, because that's one of the risks you take making out with someone while he smokes. I think that's all the necessary warnings? NSFW, obviously! About 2.5k words!

---

Husk takes a deep puff from his cigar before gently blowing out the smoke with a moan of contentment. A woodsy scent with a hint of spice swirls out of his mouth, lingering in the air of his bedroom even as the smoke dissipates.

“Fuck, I haven’t had one this good in years.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” you say from behind him. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, and your legs are straddling him as you massage his shoulders. It’s his birthday, the first one since you two started dating, and you wanted to do something nice for him. He’d vented to you recently about how much he hates the taste of cheap cigarettes, but how they’re the only thing he can get his paws on to stave off the nicotine cravings.

“Why would anyone choose to smoke this shit if they weren’t already hooked? I tell you, once you’ve had a nice cigar, you’ll never wanna go back to these nasty fuckin’ things. The smell, the taste, the high, it’s all so much better with a cigar. Too bad I can’t afford them much anymore…”

You already knew how much he missed the life of luxury he used to lead, even if he did regret some of the things he had to do to stay on that peak for as long as he did. That rant of his gave you the perfect idea for his birthday present; you couldn’t permanently give him that luxury back, but at least you could give him a taste of it for an evening. 

The pack of cigars wasn’t your only gift to help him regain that feeling. After another few puffs of his cigar, he reaches to grab the glass of scotch from his bedside table. He takes a series of small sips, not guzzling like he normally would. That’s how you know he enjoys it; with cheaper booze, his primary concern is keeping himself numb rather than savoring the underwhelming taste. This scotch isn’t a means to a self-destructive end, it’s an experience that he doesn’t want to rush.

“You’re making me feel like a king, baby,” he says, relaxed and happy, as he slumps down and leans into your touch. “I haven’t had a birthday this nice in a long time.”

“You deserve it,” you assure him with a kiss to the top of his head. “And I still have one more gift for you.”

“Another one?” he says with a small laugh. “You don’t have to spoil me like that…”

“But I want to,” you say. “Do you want me to get it ready now?”

“Can I keep smoking?” he asks.

“Of course.”

“Good.” He takes another drag, and his body gives a quick shiver as the tobacco hits his brain. “I’m not putting this out until there’s nothing left of it.”

“You won’t have to, I promise,” you say. “Just relax while I take care of you. Did you want to move to your lounge chair?”

“Aw, but you can’t rub my back as well when I’m sitting over there,” he says.

“What I have planned is better than a backrub.”

His ear gives a twitch; surely he has a few ideas of what’s going to happen once he moves. “Well, if ya say so.” He rises from the bed and heads over to the large leather chair in the corner of his room, black with golden embellishments on the back and on the front of the armrests. He sighs in contentment as he sinks into the chair, settling into his throne before returning to his cigar. As he gets comfortable, you begin rearranging things for his next present. You move his ashtray, scotch bottle, and empty glass to the table next to the chair, then pour him a fresh drink. He takes another few sips of scotch without putting the cigar down, while you set up the record player with his favorite romantic music. His ear twitches again as a slow drum beat overlaid with saxophone starts filling the room.

“I like where this is going,” he says with a chuckle.

Now that the mood is set, there’s nothing stopping you from sitting in his lap and cradling his cheeks in your hands. Without a word, you begin to kiss him. The taste of alcohol and smoke is heavy on his breath, but the light sweetness of the scotch and spice of the cigar are so much more pleasant than his usual binges. It mixes perfectly with his own natural taste, and you soon find yourself hooked. Glass gently thumps onto wood as he sets down his scotch, freeing up his paw to tangle his claws in your hair. He takes a few breaks from the kissing session to take another drag of his cigar, but since it renews the spice on his tongue, you don’t mind the interruptions.

“What do you want me to do?” you ask as you stroke the graying fur on his cheeks. “I’ll do anything you want.”

He takes a moment to hum in thought. “Hm… why don’t you surprise me? As long as it’s something I can keep smoking through.”

You smile at his request, and give his nose a quick kiss. “Glad you’re enjoying my present so much.” You return your kisses to his lips, your hands now moving with a purpose. You easily unfasten his suspenders without looking, having done this so many times before. After detaching the front fasteners from his pants and tucking the straps behind his shoulders, you start massaging him again, first rubbing his shoulders before running down to his chest. He moans as your fingers comb through the thick patch of fur, before moving to massage his nipples on either side of the patch.

“Fuck, baby…” he whispers between kisses. He takes another drag, this one shorter than usual so he can quickly return to your lips. He doesn’t take the time to blow out the smoke before kissing you, instead letting it flow from his mouth to yours.

You’d yell at him if he’d tried that with the cheap things he regularly smoked at the bar, but the warm, spicy smoke is actually pleasant.

You keep running your hands down his body, paying special attention to the extra pairs of nipples along the way. He doesn’t like having them treated too roughly, but your fingertips ghosting over them is enough to get him purring.

“I love kissing you,” you tell him as you rest your hands on his fly.

“I love kissing you, too,” he responds, not showing any sign that he’s caught on to where you’re going with this.

“I love kissing your lips…” You kiss his mouth one more time to make your point, then move a bit lower. “And your neck…”

He tilts his head back and groans as you gently suck on the side of his neck.

“And your chest…”

As you move down, kissing lower and lower on his body and lapping your tongue over his most sensitive areas, your hands are working on unfastening his pants. Without a word, he lifts his hips off the chair just enough for you to pull off his pants and underwear, moving as if by instinct. Not even the movement can stop him from continuing to smoke as you undress him. His dark cock is already erect, proudly displaying the barbs along his shaft and head. Your whole body shudders at the sight as you move to kneel on the floor, giving yourself a closer look at his endowment. You rest your hands on his knees and look up at him to gauge his reaction. He’s looking back down at you, sharp teeth holding his cigar in place as he grins.

Fuck, you’ll buy him cigars more often just to see that again.

He removes the cigar so that he can speak. “Where else do you like kissing me, doll?” he asks, still smirking.

You don’t need words to answer him. You give him a smile before you start nuzzling his cock, letting his barbs lightly scrape against your cheek. His natural scent is so strong down here; you could get as high off it as he is off his cigar.

“Husk…” you whisper, your brain already growing fuzzy. You turn your head and press a gentle kiss to his shaft. He growls in approval as you continue kissing him up and down, treating him tenderly enough to tease. As you kiss him, you start lightly fondling his balls in your palm.

He exhales your name in response as his claws lightly scratch your scalp. “C’mon, don’t tease…”

You give him a tiny bit more by sticking out your tongue, now licking his shaft with the same gentleness you previously gave with your lips. His breaths are getting heavier, and he’s gripping your hair more tightly.

“Babe…”

You lick your way down to the base, digging your tongue in where his cock and balls meet, before licking your way back up to his head. He groans as you lap at the bundle of barbs on the underside; his cock is roughest here, but the slight pain against your tongue is more than made up for by the fact that nothing else can get him squirming like this.

“C-c’moooon…” he groans as he jerks his hips aimlessly, rubbing his cock against your face and smearing it with his scent and his slick. You almost feel bad for him. You have been teasing him a lot, and on his birthday, no less…

You gently lap at his tip, sipping up the globs of precum that are trickling out of it. The taste is slightly bitter, but it’s so unmistakably him that you can’t help but want more. He lightly pushes on your head, not forcing you down, but clearly giving you the hint of what he needs.

You make sure to look him in the eyes as you sink your mouth over his tapered head.

“Oh God…” he groans. “Stay like that, just a second…” He smokes his cigar, letting the sensations of the tobacco and of your mouth swirl in his head like a delicious blur. “Fuck that’s good…”

You start slowly bobbing your head, not taking him too deeply yet. It’s still enough to make him moan, especially as your tongue keeps passing over his rough underside. You keep on massaging his balls as you go down on him, trying to keep the rhythm of your mouth and your hand somewhat in sync.

You pull your mouth off of him for just a second. “Don’t use your paws, okay? I wanna take care of you. Just relax and enjoy your gifts.”

He nods as he takes his claws out of your hair. Once he’s no longer touching you, you resume gently suckling on him, not taking him much deeper than his head yet. He’s clearly excited just by that, as his precum continues trickling out and mixing with your own drool.

You pull your mouth off to let the mixture dribble down onto his cock, then use your free hand to massage it into his shaft while you resume sucking. His barbs occasionally catch on your palm, but you’re used to it enough that it doesn’t slow you down.

He groans your name again as he reaches over to grab his scotch. He takes a slow sip, adding more alcohol to the cocktail of chemicals already coursing through his veins. Once he’s done drinking, he turns his attention back to you, watching you with lidded eyes and a lazy smile. A cigar in one paw, scotch in the other, wings spread wide, relaxing on his throne as someone serves him… is this how he used to live as an Overlord?

You wouldn’t mind helping him relive those days more often… he’s fucking handsome like this. Arousal burns through you at the sight, and you can’t help but go down on him faster and deeper.

“Fuuuuck…” He’s groaning and rolling his head back, and you know that if his paws weren’t occupied he’d be pushing down on your head. You don’t normally mind that, but he’s following your request to let you lead this time. His hips are bucking into your mouth a little, but you know he can’t help that, so you’ll let it slide.

You lightly squeeze his balls in your palm, and he cries out from the sensation. He’s starting to twitch and throb within your mouth, and more and more precum is flooding out of him. His paws are trembling too badly for him to continue savoring his other gifts; he may even end up spilling his scotch.

He’s in too much bliss to care.

“So- close-” As if you needed him to tell you. You pull your mouth up to just cover his head, and start giving him your all, both hands rapidly spoiling his shaft and balls while your tongue bathes his head. He doesn’t last long. A cry escapes from his muzzle as his cock starts draining into your mouth, hot ropes of seed washing over your tongue. His hips keep thrusting up into you, seeking more stimulation to ease out a few more shots, but soon, he’s spent enough to relax unmoving into his chair again.

He swears before taking his cigar back in his mouth and holding it there. You pull your mouth off of him, careful not to spill too much out of your mouth, and gently rest your head on his soft thigh. He strokes your hair with his free paw, a purr emitting from his throat and rumbling his whole body in the process. He’s staring down at you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen; you could blush at the reverence his expressions always show you.

You swallow most of the mess in your mouth, then nuzzle against his thigh. “Was that a good gift?” you ask.

“Fuckin’ perfect, doll,” he assures you. A final drag of his cigar reduces it to a stub, which he crushes into his ashtray. “Come up here?”

You bring yourself back up into his lap, and he immediately pulls you into a cuddle. One arm wraps tightly around your waist while the other presses your head against his shoulder. You can feel his constant purring even more strongly from up here. You reach around to lightly scratch him under his wings, which earns you another contented moan amidst the purrs.

“Is there anything else you want me to do for you?” you ask him.

“Wouldn’t mind taking you to bed in a bit,” he tells you before kissing your head. “But for now, could I just hold you?”

You settle into his embrace, happy to give him whatever he wants; not just for his birthday, but for the rest of his life.

[purplesurveys]

1589

Are you obsessive over Edward Cullen? Uh, maybe when I was 11 I could say that yeah. I’m definitely no longer as obsessed with the character nor the series, apart from my annual rewatch of the movies haha. Team Cullen all the way though – I hated Jacob’s anger issues.

Ever written that you were going to end your life? Yeah, it doubles as a will. I am fairly certain it’s still here on my laptop, just under a completely random and unrelated title. I haven’t seen it in years.

If you had one wish, what would it be? And you can’t wish for more wishes. Money.

Name one of your second cousins. Margaret.

Diamonds or rubies? Diamonds.

Would you date someone 8 years older than you? Someone who’s 32...maybe not. The gap is personally too large for me. Can you take a bra off with one hand? Nah.

How old is the last person you texted? She seems a bit younger than me, from what I’ve seen. I’m guessing anywhere between 18-23.

Who was the last person you fell asleep with? Fell asleep with and not sleep with? Hmm I guess Angela from the last time I slept over at her place.

Have you ever punched a hole in the wall? I’ve felt the urge but have never done it. I don’t want to end up in pain and with bloody knuckles lol. If you were in the hospital on life support, would the last person you hugged visit you? It’s possible, but it’s not a 100% chance of visiting.

Have you ever fallen asleep in school? Not while in class but I have napped in a few spots here and there – mostly in my car. There were very few times I fell asleep at my org’s lounge area but in general I hate sleeping in public.

What kind of car does your most recent ex drive? I have no idea. I know her parents gifted her her own car straight out of college, but I don’t remember what make and model it is.

Have you ever dated someone you met online? Nope.

Do you wish you were taller or shorter? I could be a little taller but overall I’m not the type to complain about my height. Filipinos are on the shorter side anyway and around here I’d still be considered average lol, so.

What financial class are you? Middle.

What poster is hanging closest to you? I’m at a Starbucks right now so all the posters and tarps here are just promoting their new drinks.

Are you more comfortable with men or women? Women. I find them easier and more relatable to talk to. I think we’re also naturally more emotional and expressive, which is kind of what my energy needs when talking to people. How much older than you have you dated? I’ve only ever dated someone of the same age, and even she was a couple of months younger than me.

Do you have a pet cat? I do not.

Who did you last shoot a dirty look at? Probably just some dumb driver.

Is there somebody in your life that you could not survive without? Angela.

What do you currently hear right now? Change pt. 2 and all its angry bass sounds through my earphones.

How do you feel about school? I largely didn’t care for it throughout grade school and the early years of high school, knowing that my scores in those years wouldn’t matter anywhere. I started taking it seriously in junior year, since in my dream university they look at your grades starting from that grade. I did well enough to pass that university, and from then on till college I gave a crap about and enjoyed school since that’s the point where you typically get to have more independence in the classes you pick.

Does the person you last kissed still like you? No, I have had no reason to remain in their life in like the past two years now.

When was the last time you used a pay phone and who were you calling? I’ve never even used a payphone, I think. The last time I encountered one of them was in grade school, but I never had to use it.

How many rings do you wear, if any? I don’t wear rings.

Grilled cheese or peanut butter & jelly? Grilled cheese. Peanut butter and jelly is so weird and I remember being so underwhelmed by it when I tried it for the first time, after seeing all my favorite American shows hype it up so much.

Have you ever jumped in a pool with your clothes on? No, I don’t like getting my clothes wet on purpose.

Do you prefer being called your actual name or a nickname? My first name. Only close family members use the shortened version of it, and I’d be pretty weirded out if any non-relative called me that. Where is the person you love/like? I’m not into anyone.

Future tattoos? Seven tiny dots in the order of BTS’ microphone colors, and now I’m thinking of an Indigo-themed tattoo...still thinking of which lyric to tattoo-fy though.

Name of your first relationship? I don’t like recalling the person in any extent anymore, so let’s move on.

Do you like scary movies? Sure! I don’t watch them a lot these days, but I definitely don’t hate horror.

Do you think your last ex deserves to die? No, but I don’t wish them well either.

Have you ever wanted to believe in something, but couldn’t? Yeah, like when I’m in denial about deaths of loved ones.

What was the last animal/pet that you met? Besides my own? An adorable shih tzu puppy named Tammy that I met when I dropped by a BTS-themed café last Tuesday! She’s 3 months old and had the cutest little diaper on her. She was roaming freely around the store and the owner told me it was okay to play with her, so I did :)

What’s the last thing you promised yourself? Uhhh not sure. Something insignificant, I’m guessing.

Have you ever written a review for a product you bought online? Not really products but more on services, so like if I got my hair done at a salon or ate at a restaurant. With products I mostly just rate.

What was the last board game you played? Can’t remember, I rarely play those.

Would you ever marry someone who was lower class? Yes. This really such a big deal?

Is there a guy you wish you hadn’t let slip away? No. Have you ever written to an advice columnist? No.

Who is a singer that has given you chills? Cho Youjeen’s range is insane and listening to her notes on Wild Flower was an experience I’ll never forget.

What act would you perform in a talent show? My main talent is writing...and I don’t think that would fly in talent show.

What area are you the most gifted in, do you think? ^ That.

What is your state’s bird (if you live in the US)? Well, I don’t.

What did you go to college for? Journalism.

Tell me about someone that you know dislikes you. What do you think is about you they don’t like? This one girl from work seems to have never liked me from that time in 2020 when we miscommunicated over something. I was a few weeks into the job and was at the starting stage of being familiar with my tasks; one day she asks me something that I apparently misunderstood, and from then on her demeanor towards me changed even though I profusely apologized. I’m never one to back down though so I also just give her a cold shoulder back when we have to have encounters at work.

Tell me about something you’re afraid of. Why does it frighten you? Plane crashes. Because I’ve heard too many audio snippets of passengers’ last thoughts/words/exclamations moments before their plane dove into the ground. And also just because I react terribly with anything that causes the slightest bit of motion sickness so I just know a full-blown crash would send me into a panic within seconds.

Does the last person you kissed live within walking distance? Thankfully they do not. They live at the opposite end of the city, and it’s super out of the way from where I am so I never have to pass by the area.

Do you think the last person you kissed has ever lied to you? They directly told me that they have.

Is there a certain song that never seems to get old, no matter how many times you hear it? Outro: Tear by BTS is a good example.

Do you think the last person you kissed is capable of breaking your heart? They did. Can we stop asking about the same person? LOL

Do you want to have any children? If so, how many? I’d love to have one or two but the possibility is quite bleak now. I act like I don’t want kids largely so that people wouldn’t worry or hover but the truth is that it devastates me from time to time.

How many piercings have you had in your life? Two.

Do you have a problem with bisexual, gay, or bicurious people? ????? No?

Are you a good babysitter? I’m the eldest female child in an Asian family; we’re practically required to be good babysitters.

Is anyone overprotective of you? My parents used to be but they’ve certainly been looser the older I’ve gotten.

Who was the last person you kissed? The ex that we have been talking about a trauma-inducing amount at this point.

Have you ever made a boyfriend or girlfriend cry? Yes. What colors would you like to have at your wedding? White and beige.

The person you like comes up and kisses you, what would you do? I’m not into anyone. Ever known anyone who could “see right through” you? Yes.

Have you ever broken a couple up? No.

When was the last time you changed in front of someone? Idk. Years ago.

What’s something you think should be legalized? Divorce and same-sex marriage. Who usually takes out the trash in your family? My parents or sister. Have you ever experienced a friend or partner that was jealous of you spending time with other people? How did you handle the situation? Yeah, they generally weren’t a fan of me hanging out with guy friends. I obviously didn’t take too kindly to it and kept hanging out with them anyway because why the fuck not.

How old do you think is too old to sleep with a stuffed animal? There really shouldn’t be an age limit for things like this... Are either of your parents retired yet? If not, what do they do? Nope. My dad is an executive sous chef; my mom’s an office secretary. Do you know anyone named Matt? It rings a few bells but I can’t seem to remember where I know them from.

When did you/do you want to move out of your parents house? Before I’m 30.

Are there any books that you’ve been meaning to read? Not really, no. There’s Almond by Son Wonpyung but I’ve never been in a rush to read it.

Have you slept over at a member of the opposite sex’s house in their bed? Nope.

Who has/had the most mature romantic relationship you’ve seen with your own eyes? This couple that I’ve known and have been together since the early years of high school.

When was the last time you got something for free (legally)? What was it & have you enjoyed it so far? I briefly mentioned it earlier but I visited a BTS-themed café last Tuesday; and when I got settled the owner handed me and this other girl who was there a bunch of freebies, which included a cupsleeve from their last event + a BTS photocard + Indigo photocards. I love them all – the photocards are in my wallet and the cupsleeve has found a home at the corkboard in my room.

What is the one fruit you can’t stand to eat? How about vegetable? The taste of mango is unforgivable to me. I’m generally a bigger fan of vegetables but I will never try ampalaya as I’m not fan of bitter. Is your last ex still someone you care about? Not if they were the last person on earth and a horde of zombies is chasing after their ass.

Biggest annoyance in your life right now? I go back to work tomorrow. The good news is that I’m on leave again from Monday to Wednesday next week ha so I’ll just have to swallow down the gross stuff I have to handle tomorrow.

When did you last eat pizza? Around a month ago, I think.

Is there a girl you absolutely can not stand? Not really.

Name the person that has honestly hurt you the most in life? Said ex.

[ashdreams2023]

hi can you write for lady loki with a reader who’s still a little new to sex stuff, like they’ve had sex before together but still needs to learn some stuff like how to make loki feel good and how to eat her out and loki happily does so? only if that’s ok ofc

Sure it is!

Summary: lady Loki teaches you a few things about pleasing her

"Loki can we talk?"

"Huh, sure my love, what’s wrong?"

"Nothing…I just wanted some help"

You sat down with you girlfriend, a little nervous to say the least, even though you’re already dating and had sex Loki had that affect on you.

She’s the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen and she treats you so well, your heart flutters every time she smiles your way and you just want to give something to give.

Recently you’ve felt a little underwhelmed with the fact that during intimate time you’re just a pillow princess and she does the pleasing for both of you.

"I want to make you feel good" you could feel your cheeks warming up as you spoke "it’s not fair if I can’t do anything to please you too….so would you please teach me what you like" Loki blinked at you, taking in all what you just said and smiled.

"If you really want to but please remember my pleasure comes from your pleasure as well" you nodded your head determined to do a good job.

She giggled kissing your forehead "I sure have a cute girlfriend" the butterflies in your stomach flew around with her sweet words.

Later that day when both of you were completely free Loki lead you to the bedroom and started setting the mood.

Kissing you and touching your body and undressing both of you, leaving in just your panties both, leading your hands to squeeze her breasts and kiss her neck.

"Just keep doing that, I have sensitive nipples remember love" you hummed nippling on her neck, your fingers pinching her nipples and making her moan.

That first moan was like a tiny victory.

You wanted to be a bit bold and pushed her on the soft bed, much like how she used to do to you.

She smirked up at you, a proud look in her eyes as she pulled down her panties for you.

Your heart raced leaning down on top of your girlfriend’s fully naked body.

Beautiful, beautiful as the first day you saw her.

You kissed her one more time for comfort and reassurance before pushing her legs gently apart.

You swallowed looking down at her cunt, her voice soft and calm talked to you.

"Just do it like how you would like it to be" you nodded to yourself and went down.

She was already wet and ready, it made it clear enough that your girlfriend actually wanted this, as much as you are.

You ran your fingers between her soft lips and watched as her chest rose up and down at the action, then your started curling her clit.

"Just like that" she breathed.

You leaned down, you kissed her lips once before you dragged your tongue between her folds and held legs apart.

She let out a tiny gasp that went straight to your core. You continued going up and down her lips and sucking on them, and not forgetting your thumb pinching and pressing her clit.

Her moans drowned you in lustful thought and with each passing second you could feel her legs weaken against your grip.

Your tongue tasted every part of her and she died whenever it went inside.

Her hands gripped your hair and pressed you against her pussy, dripping wet from your tongue.

"More, more" she moaned.

You kept the same base until you couldn’t breath and pushing your head away leaving her scream for you to continue.

Your wet lips glimmered in the light of the room and your breath felt a little heavy.

You licked two fingers of yours and pushed them inside of her, her back arched and you could only describe the sight as heavily.

With your other hand you started fingering your own self, you needed something to calm you down there and you were soaked.

"I’m so close" she said.

You whined pulling your hand out of yourself and leaning down to kiss her lower stomach, your fingers not changing the perfect base and like that she came on your fingers.

"Fuck!" You watched her body climax and all you could you think is how proud of yourself you are.

You laid beside her and held her hand until she could catch her breath and when she did, she chuckled.

"You were so good, so natural" you smiled back at her. "I’m glad" you said.

"Now it’s you" before you could protest her hand slipped down and fingers started working on your wet mess.

"It’s only fair" she kissed your neck while you moan out for her desperately.

[wornoutmouse]

Cow Endeavor

Don't ask no questions you don't want answered. Either way, i have no answers for you. I cried while writing this

Praise kink, male lactation (🙃 say something i dare you) farm au, y'all know i love my breeding kink.

You were a simple farm hand. Every morning you'd wake up, feed the animals, and water the crops. It was your job to make sure everything was in order and working properly. In the essence of things working properly, that meant you had to take care of the farm's prized cow, Enji.

You weren't sure how or when he got here, he had just always been there. What you do know was that his performance in producing milk was so great that he had become the pinnacle for your farm, a mascot even. A cow that could make milk without even needing to be bred.

So it's understandable the panic everyone went into when their prized cow stopped producing his prized milk. "I just don't understand, he just had a calf but there's not even milk for hj., we had to result to bottle feeding!"

You pat Keigo's back reassuringly, "It's going to be okay, have you ever considered that maybe he's just too old now?" Takami's face paled, "You're right, what if our poor Endeavor has run his course?!" He then grips the front of your overalls and gazes you with a look that pierces your soul.

"You have to fix this, if they find out he's no longer making milk, you know what they'll do to him!" You nodded, retirement for farm animals was never fun, they'd either try to force his glands to make milk with dangerous chemically induced hormones, or it would be off to the chopping block.

So now, standing in front of Enji's stall, you take a deep breath to steady yourself. Though his primary caretaker, you had never seen Enji in person so this would be either overwhelming or underwhelming.

Opening the swinging doors, you stand amazed. It may be called a stall but it was nothing less than a renovated room. There was, of course, a wooden trough where his hay and water was, but there was also a nice bed for him and even a damn vanity with a 6ft tall mirror.

"Are you the butcher?" You jump and swivel your head around. There standing at a whopping 6,11, was the prized Enji.

His blue eyes were cold as they glared down at you, and if you hadn't seen his massive pecs, you would have confused him for a bull.

"Uh, no I'm not. I guess you could say I'm going to be your doctor today." Enji rolled his eyes and walked past you. He sits on his bed and for a moment, you saw a look of sadness etched in his scared face. A reminder of a past problem.

"Look I'd recommend you replace me with Touya, he can't do it as often but the quality in milk is just as good. I only ask that you allow little Shouto to sleep with him here, he gets terrible nightmares when he's alone."

You cursed your bleeding heart as you were two sentences from crying. Shouto was his most recent calf,, not even old enough to graze, yet he was far away from his mother where he should be, sucking and carefree.

"Well I hope it doesn't come to that, can you get comfortable?"

Enji lays on his back, sinking into the soft bed below him. You step out the stall and grab your bag of tools. You walk up to Enji and feel your face warm as he looks back at you. His face remained stoic as he watched your hands maneuver the bag clamps.

You let out a loud shriek as a warm hand envelopes your left breast. "If you were a cow, I'm sure you'd make excellent milk." You laugh awkwardly before breaking into a coughing fit as Enji releases you.

"Thanks, could you remove your top for me?" Enji sits up and does as you ask and you balk at how much bigger his chests were when released. "Mommy milkers." You whisper to yourself, catching Enji's attention. "What did you say?"

"Nothing!" You put your stethoscope in your ears, and hold the circle piece to his chest, uttering small apologies when he hisses at the cool temperature. You do the normal required check up before moving to the current task at hand.

You start to put on your latex gloves but it's stopped by Enji shading his head. "I don't like the way they feel." So with your bare hands, you examine his chest.

First you massage the skin around his nipple to try to coax some milk out. With no luck, you decide to pay attention to the actual nipples balancing from prodding to pinching them. "Normally when things like this happen it means that something could be blocking the exit." Enji huffed, "Why won't you people accept that I'm just old?!"

You ignore him and continue. You feel around the swell of his breasts and push inwards with two fingers. At that, you faintly catch the sight of his pink buds being coated with clear shiny liquid. Enji's face warmed at the feeling of it dripping down the valley of his chest.

"See, what did I tell you!? It just needed a little coaxing!" You press and prod more trying to coax a consistently white spurt of milk but soon run dry. Enji's face was completely red and sweat had accumulated on his brow. He was internally thankful for the pants he requested as an embarrassingly large bulge was present just below the fabric.

"S-See all that was just a shadow of what I once was." You flick his nip and shake your head, promptly missing how his eyes gently rolled back at the feeling. "Calm down edge lord. I think you need a constant force, I'm going to go get Shouta and see if he can suck more out and hopefully shift whatever is blocking."

You stand up and give Enji a reassuring smile. Rising into a panic, Enji grabbed your forearm, "Don't bring him!" You pout your lips, "Well who do you want me to bring?"

Enji grits his teeth, he didn't want any of his calves to see him in such a state, but he knew this was an opportunity for him to stay at the farm a little while longer. Gently, you feel yourself being tugged.

You trip over yourself, slightly leaning over Enji which gave him the perfect opportunity to cradle the back of your head. He says nothing as he holds you closer, and it wasn't until you saw his flushed face, that you realised what he wanted.

"E-Enji, I don't think this is appropriate I-" Enji wastes no time before pressing his hardened nipple into your partially open mouth. Your protest is muffled as he pressed your face closer. His eyes closed tightly as your warm breath fans over his cool skin.

Soon you realise that you were not going to be let go anytime soon. You reposition yourself the best he would allow you before closing your eyes as well, and sucking gently. Enji lets out a sigh that reverberated down his body.

You let out a muffled exclamation as you feel a warm liquid

flow into your mouth. It was thicker than the clear liquid you saw before, bittersweet and addicting without any additives. It was easy to see how Enji had become the prized cow.

Enji's grip slackened when he felt you relax against him, but you barely noticed as you became enraptured in the taste of his milk. In a strange way, suckling from him felt almost intimate in a maternal way.

Despite your innocent feelings, Enji found himself becoming aroused at the sight of you enjoying him. In all his years of work, he had never seen someone, besides his calves, drink his product.

"D-Do you like it?" You hum around him and he had to clench his teeth so he wouldn't release any sounds. You find yourself getting pliant in his arms, becoming more focused on getting more of the psweet liquid.

You soothingly lave your tongue around his nipple and Enji can't help but let out a small moan. His dick was painfully hard in his cotton pants and there was only so much he could take.

You remove yourself from him with a wet pop, before applying a kiss to his swollen bud. Rather high off happy chemicals, you stand shakily to your feet. Enji had drool and small dribbles of milk spurting from the unattended side of his chest. "You were so good for me Enji. I'm sure this will get you up and running in no time!"

With that, you utter a quick "thank you" and walk away, missing the large splotch of cum leaking from the fabric crotch of Enji's pants.

🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄

It was 3 weeks before you saw Enji again. And you don't deny that you were avoiding him. What you did was beyond inappropriate and uncalled for. You should have pulled away and called for one of his calves.

But avoiding your job is just as easy as it sounds.

"Hey y/n, Enji thinks he's running dry again. Even though there seems to be nothing wrong when the machine mills him, I think you should go check and make sure." You stiffen and shovel a mouthful of lettuce into your mouth.

"If there's nothing wrong, I have no reason to go. Besides why can't you do it." Keigo looks at you with a raised eyebrow, "He requested you specifically." You feel your chest flutter with an unknown emotion and you quickly finish your lunch to avoid any conversation.

You enter Enji's stall the next day and watch silently as he immediately removes his shirt. Ever since your first meeting, his chests had doubled in size since the milk had finally been allowed to move freely. The sight of them excited you, and you couldn't help but feel conflicted.

You sit in a small chair next to Enji's bed and examine his swollen breasts. Even the slightest touch caused milk to spill forth and it became hard to ignore. "You're not really starting to dry up are you?"

Enji sighs before sitting up. "Ever since that day I couldn't get you out of my head." You tilted your head confused as Enji cups his breasts before trailing his large hands down his stomach to his crotch before gripping his obvious manhood.

"Enji this is going beyond inappropriate." The large man made a sound that was a cross between a desperate whine and a grunt similar to that of a bull. "Don't deny that you like it too, I saw the look on your face." You lowered your head unable to look at his eyes.

Thoughts mulled over in your head about what type of punishment you could receive from possibly contaminating merchandise. Would the milk be different? People have been sending letters about how much sweeter Enji's milk has gotten.

Ah, but the thought of Enji's sweet sustenance on your tongue made your mouth water. Enji hid a small smirk as he saw you finally make up your mind. He had missed you since your last encounter, he spent nights thinking of you as his tits swelled with milk.

You untie your work apron and toss it on the stool before straddling Enji's thick legs. In the back of your mind, the logistics of his height and weight made your shiver at the thought of his cock.

Enji brings you in for a kiss and the rather off putting taste of oats and spring grass floods your senses as your tongues intertwine. You use your hands to massage his breasts and feel your front become warm as you subsequently squeeze out some of his milk.

You place hurried kisses along his jaw as you make your way to the true treasure. The sweet taste of his milk overrides your morning meal and you are baffled by how different it was from last time.

Enji, no longer feeling shy, let out a groan as he holds your head close to him. His free hand pulls his leaking cock out and strokes it in time with your rough tongue as you press it against his sensitive bud.

"Harder my little flower." You sigh with contentment at the nickname and do as ordered. You feel Enji flex below you and you take pride in it.

You scoot your lower body closer to his groin and rock your hips against him. The feeling of your denim pants against his throbbing cock was almost too much yet too little.

"Please, let me be inside you." You raise your head to look at him and Enji almost coos at the milky dribble rolling out the corner of your mouth. You were such a small thing, needed to be fed, needed to be protected and most importantly, needed to be bred.

Dazed, you shimmy off your pants and underwear and grind your hips. "B-Be gentle okay?" You were trembling on top of him and it was absolutely adorable. "Of course my flower."

In the corridor Keigo was making his way towards Enji's stall. It had been beyond the recommended time for an examination so he was coming to see what was taking you so long.

As he comes upon the door, the sound of whining fills his ears. "Just a little bit longer, flower." His eyes widen and he takes four steps away from the stall door. "You sly fox y/n fraternizing with the produce." Keigo shakes his head in disapproval before shrugging with a small grin.

"None of my business."

The feeling of fullness was strange and uncomfortable. Enji was not long whatsoever, that was another characteristic that set him apart from the bulls. But he was thick to the point where you knew you'd have to work extra hard to accommodate him.

"You're doing so well for me flower." You rub your face against his bosom and resume drinking from him. The taste of his milk was therapeutic and before you knew it, he was thrusting fluidly inside of you.

The thickness of his shaft rubbed just right against your g-spot. The feeling of your soft lips alternating between each nipple, made Enji speed up his menstruations for he could no longer contain his pleasure.

He was sad that he couldn't bring you to completion as well but that can always be saved for next time. The feeling of his semen filling you felt just as amazing as the milk flooding your mouth and you clenched tightly around him.

🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄

"It's not funny Keigo!" "Really? I think it's hilarious." You groan as you cradle your slightly protruding belly. You should have seen it coming, and subconsciously, you weren't surprised to see two pink lines on the pregnancy test that you took 4 months ago.

Now at 7 months and obviously showing, Keigo took the opportunity to bring up the fact that he was there when your new child was consummated therefore reserved the right to be it's godfather.

Telling Enji the news went scarily smooth as the cow bastard only replied with, "Of course you are pregnant, I'm the sire." Followed by him asking to try your milk as well, so he could critique. All his calves, now yearlings, seemed to take the news just fine and only seemed excited to pick baby names.

"Look, all I'm saying is, don't come crying when little junior starts asking about the family business." You groan as the dirty blond man continues his jokes. A small content smile is present on your face.

[maximoff-pan]

my heart goes kaboom for you | fred weasley

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sitting in the reading room of your apartment above the shop, you reminisce about your husband, Fred Wealsey.

Word Count: 800+

Prompt: Sparklers & fireworks (flufftober day 4)

A/n: this was more of a metaphorical take on the prompt, so I hope this isn’t too underwhelming. Anyway, I hope you’re all enjoying flufftober so far! <3

find the flufftober masterlist here

• • • • • •

Fred Weasley.

Just how to describe him….

Hot headed? Surely. A little reckless? More than a little, you think. Has an ego the size of Hogwarts? Possibly, though he has his good days. A touch over zealous? Yeah, maybe a touch. He’s likely all of these things, and yet he’s so much more: a son, a brother, a husband, and one day, a father.

And if there’s one thing you can say about Fred Weasley, it’s that his ego is earned. Since you first met him when he was eleven years old, until now at your ripe old age of twenty three, you’ve never seen him fail at anything. It’s like the man is incapable of being bad; he’s good at everything.

You’ve never met anyone so dedicated to their greatness, someone who knew from the second they stepped foot on this earth just the potential they had. And some might point to you and say, well, what about Harry Potter? And the thing is, you’ve known both Fred and Harry for what feels like your entire life, you grew up with them, and while they are similar, they have one stark difference. Harry might just be the greatest wizard you’ll ever encounter, but it was a greatness he never saw in himself, a potential he didn’t understand, and one that was forced upon him.

Fred’s greatness is something he seemed to always know he had, and it was a choice. He always wanted to be someone. He always wanted to make people laugh, to bring joy into the world. That doesn’t necessarily mean that it was always his dream to open the joke shop. In his mind, he didn’t exactly know how his motivations would precipitate, but the foundation was there. All he wanted was to make people happy.

So, you can say a lot of things about Fred Weasley, good and bad, because Merlin knows he’s a pain in your ass 99% of the time, but you can’t say he doesn’t burn bright. Because he does…so very bright…

It’s funny because he always calls you his sparkler, and him your firework. And it’s extremely fitting. You both have this hot streak in you, where if your backs are against the wall, you won’t hesitate to fight for what you believe in. And the nicknames run deeper than just the implication that your personalities are larger than life. They also signify the light you bring to each other. Fred is the brightest source of light, love, and liveliness in your life, and you are his.

It’s a loop you can get lost in again and again — thinking of Fred.

“Something on your mind darling?” Speak of the devil. Your husband’s voice is smooth and alluring, lulling your mind from its thoughts.

You look at him through your lashes, noticing his reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. They’re a recent addition to his wardrobe that make him look so mature, an aspect of Fred’s personality that has usually gone unnoticed. Because despite his child like persona, when he’s with you, when he doesn’t have to be this funny, charming guy, he’s just Fred, mature, rational, and sweet.

Your eyes pierce through the warm brown of his. “You.” You respond.

He flashes you a quick smile. “All good things I hope.”

“I’m afraid not my love.” You tease. “All terribly awful things.”

He’s so used to being the one doing the teasing that for a moment, he’s caught off guard. But only for a moment…

Fred’s eyebrows raise in curiosity, as he wiggles them slightly. “Naughty awful?” He asks hopefully.

“You wish Casanova.”

Your reply spurs a reaction out of Fred as he leans forward to press a haste kiss on your lips. “Always.”

It’s moments like this that remind you just how much you love him, and how much you know he loves you. It’s pure and undeniably real. It’s domestic, full of happiness and something you can always count on. And that’s probably what fills your heart with the most joy — Fred’s love for you and your love for him is reliable. It’s the kind of stability most people dream of having.

From the time you were eleven years old, you knew he would always be there for you…and you for him.

So yes, you can say a lot of things about Fred Weasley, some good and some bad, but there’s one thing you know for certain: he’s the firework to your sparkler. Forever and always.

[liz-allyn]

shudder; part 6/6 [agent mobius x reader]

Series Summary: Pre-Loki series. You are one of the most dangerous variants the TVA has ever recovered, but Mobius knows what makes you tick. Five times he made you shudder, and the one time you returned the favor.

Words: 4.4k

Chapter Warnings/Tags: smut, language, soft daddy kink, sex in otherwise unsanitary conditions, writer's horribly pathetic attempt at dirty talk

A/N: Here it is guys. I struggled with this chapter a lot, also mad respect for gn!writers. I don't think I succeeded in keeping it neutral (welcoming feedback on how I can improve) so I removed that tag.

You watched a small fire crackle in the darkness of an elevator shaft, being used as a chimney. Rain spilled down the walls, running over old steel and concrete, but at least you were no longer in it.

Once you had had the strength to move off the beach, you found a footpath scaling up the face of the cliff which led to an abandoned mining post.

The population of Olympus-V had steady decline for decades, either by migration, poverty, or famine. The planet had been practically barren for years, save for some mining operations to squeeze the last of the planet’s natural resources.

It was in one of those posts where you were now taking refuge with Mobius. You sat on the ground near the elevator shaft, your clothes still soaked, while Mobius fiddled around with building a fire. You wrapped your arms tightly around yourself and tried to keep your teeth from chattering.

“You know how many centuries it took early man on Earth to figure out fire?” Mobius mused as he tended to the flames. “I mean, it’s not a competition or anything, but other civilizations had it down in like a few decades, max.”

You rolled your eyes miserably. “I got him killed, you know,” you replied, not having the energy to follow Mobius into another one of his “fun-facts-about-history” rabbit holes. You’d been quiet for a while, with Mobius having to hold both ends of the conversation. The grim tone in your voice gave him pause.

“The new guy,” you clarified, your tone flat as you spoke of your deceased partner. The last time you and Mobius had spoken, he had sang his praises. “It was only our fourth mission together and he’s dead. Because of me.”

Mobius sighed and turned away from you, “That’s one interpretation.” He dropped another piece of coal into the flame and came to a stand. “Or,” he added, “you could say he was a great analyst who made rational, competent choices and was working with the best data he had. The fact that he trusted you doesn’t make him any less responsible for the outcome.”

He idly wiped his hands on his pants, carrying on and providing no harbor for your self-pity, “I probably would’ve done the same thing.”

“No. You wouldn’t.” Your tone was icy. “Because you weren’t there.” You glared at him from across the smallish room you were huddled in, bitterness souring your voice. “You sent me away, remember?”

He let out an exasperated sigh, rolling his head slightly. “I had no other choice,” he parroted the same old response.

That wasn’t an answer that satisfied you. At all.

“Why?” you bit back with a mocking tone, coming to a quick stand. You pulled no punches. “Because the TVA told you to? Because if the Time Lords—”

“—Time Keepers—”

“—Time Fascists,” you hissed, “think that I have a crush on you, they'll zap me out of my useless existence?”

He glanced over at you, smirking with his head tilted slightly. He replied with a voice as sweet as caramel, “Are you saying you have a crush on me?”

Your shoulders dropped. “You’re insufferable.” You turned away, wishing you could find a different mine.

“Hey, considering my recent valiant and heroic efforts to rescue you,” he replied, “you’d think you’d be a little nicer to me.” You let out an exhausted sigh, but he kept going - cool as a cucumber. “I thought we had a thing going there. I mean - first, you kiss me—”

You spun on your heel. “Kiss you!?” you scoffed.

“Yeah,” he drawled. “On the beach.”

“I was resuscitating you!” you argued. “You call that a kiss?”

He shrugged innocently, a sparkle in his eyes. “Well, I wasn’t going to say anything,” he responded matter-of-factly. “But, uh, yeah - it was a little underwhelming.”

He grinned slyly. You wanted to simultaneously melt into him and burn him alive. You scoffed, shaking your head incredulously.

“What was the point?” you exclaimed. “What’s the point of rescuing me if I’m nothing but a - a tool? A blunt hammer for the TVA to snuff out anyone that steps out of line?”

The pain in your voice was unmistakable, and Mobius dropped his playful banter.

“You think I’ve enjoyed spending the last - however long it's been - hopping around the timeline hunting people who are no different than me?” Your heart ached with every word, “You think I enjoy killing?”

“No,” he answered, weighed with guilt, “I don’t.”

Your rage flared. “Then why won’t you just let me go!?”

“I can’t,” he quietly explained, eyes cast down. He wouldn’t even look at you.

Fuck this infuriatingly charming, cowardly little TVA sheep-whore.

You felt the venom pooling on your tongue. “God! You’re such a company man, aren’t y—”

“I can’t!” he raised his voice in a way that you’d never heard before, stunning you into silence. He lifted his gaze and looked at you solemnly, his expression filled with regret. His words were weak, broken - barely above a whisper. “...Let you go.”

You stared blankly at him, reading the tragedy written on his features. With his defenses down, you could clearly see every word: I don’t want to let you go. I need you, forever. You are mine and I am yours and nothing else makes sense beyond that. I’d do anything to keep you safe.

Were those his thoughts, or yours? You didn’t know anymore.

Mobius reached up quickly and loosened his tie, before deftly undoing the buttons of his shirt.

You were staring like a deer in the headlights. “Wha-Wai-what are you doing?” you blurted uncomfortably with a furrowed brow.

He rolled his eyes. “Not catching hypothermia, if that’s alright with you,” he snarkily said as he pulled off his jacket and shirt, revealing a soaked white undershirt beneath. You remembered that you both were freezing and wet. “I’m drying my clothes by the fire. We still have 10 hours and 23 minutes until we hit the radiation peak.”

Ah yes, you had almost forgotten.

Ten hours until the end of the world, or at least of Olympus-V. And because Mobius’ TempPad was unbelievably conveniently out of juice, and unable to open another Time Door, you were pretty sure you had about the same amount of time left to exist.

Mobius confidently felt otherwise. He rattled on some jargon about needing a massive source of energy to power the TempPad - something about electromagnetic waves, solar bursts, radiation of a dying star, the “sweet spot” between a steady charge and a gruesome death. You honestly stopped listening back at the beach.

You were too busy questioning his motives and your own. Were you happy that Mobius was trapped with you, about to be swallowed by the sun? Or were you furious that he idiotically ran right into an apocalypse and now you both were going to die.

He quipped that at least that technically made him a hero; maybe he’d get a plaque in the TVA cafeteria. You would’ve made some kind of cheeky comeback, but you were already dying inside at that devastating thought.

“Not to be too forward, but you should probably do the same,” Mobius added, bringing you back to the present situation where he was undressing in front of you. “You’re shaking like a chihuahua right now.”

You were about to question the puzzling thought of him being in a place in time to observe a chihuahua, but then he pulled his wet t-shirt over his head. You turned your gaze away reflexively as soon as you spotted human flesh.

Here you were - former soldier, mercenary, and spy, and fearsome hunter of the Time Variance Authority - blushing like a shrinking violet. It’s not that he didn’t have a point, it was just--fuck, he’s undoing his belt— is this real life right now?

“Don’t worry,” he scoffed flippantly. “I’ll even turn my back to preserve your innocence and sanctity.”

He was being facetious but it made you wonder if he had any idea how un-sanctified you were. Your eyes widened at the thought: Did he watch that on the highlight reel too?

Now he was pulling his slacks off, and you were tracking in real time again. He kept his promise and had his back to you, allowing you the privacy to undress. And you did.

You peaked over your shoulder to see him lay his clothes out in front of the flames. He dragged over an old canvas tarp he’d found - pieces of which he’d stripped off for kindling - and moved it to a safe proximity from the fire. He sat down in the middle of the tarp, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around him.

And he kept his underwear on - boxer briefs, you’d called it - not that you were trying to look below his waist or anything.

Once he was at rest, he rubbed his hands over his bare arms to create friction. You mirrored his steps one-by-one, until you were also sitting in your underwear on the canvas with your bare backs inches apart.

You both were quiet for a long time, facing opposite directions, surrounded by the cold darkness, and the sound of trickling water. You could still hear the waves thrashing and the rain bartering on the rocks outside. The crackle of the fire - the way the flame danced and dimly lit your surroundings, brought you a sense of peace. It was almost... romantic. Even if it was the end of the world.

“I know this is my fault,” Mobius declared, breaking the silence. You could hear struggle in his voice. “I know I was supposed to stay within my lane. My purpose is to preserve and protect the timeline, and that’s it, it’s just....” He sighed, and you listened carefully, hanging on his words. Was this doubt?

It sounded like he was trying to understand himself. “Something’s different now,” he explained, with a little bit of wonder and fear. “When we’re together, I feel… like I’m someone else. And I’m not who I was before. Before you.”

You quietly listened, thinking about how much you identified with what he was saying.

“My head is telling me it’s all wrong,” he said, “that I’m making a mistake. That I’m playing with fire.” His next thoughts brought the tiniest grin to his otherwise grim voice. “When I’m with you… I feel like a dope… Reckless.” The smile faded as his thoughts sobered him. “Dangerous.”

In the silence that followed, you wondered again whose thoughts you were hearing - his or yours.

“How can something that feels so right be wrong?” he mused openly - for you, the Time Keepers, and all the Sacred Timeline - to hear.

The question that hung heavy in the air had such a clear answer, of which you were certain. Your mind raced trying to think of how to respond, how to explain. You simply couldn’t find the words.

So you turned your body towards him. You reached over Mobius’ shoulder gently to cup the side of his face, and pulled him into a kiss.

It was slow and chaste, projecting every intention and emotion that you lacked the words to describe. Each time you moved your lips, you took another breath; you wrote another line of your love letter to him. He sank deeper into your kiss, as your souls tangled and caught fire.

And then you felt it.

You were positioned behind him, with his back to your chest when a burst of lightning crawled up his spine. A desperate shudder racked his body. He pulled away from you breathlessly, his eyes closed, as you both panted and glowed with the heat of the moment.

“If I didn’t know any better,” your lips curled into a sultry smile, “I’d say I was making you nervous.”

He opened his dark bronze eyes at that, drinking you in. He couldn’t help but mirror your mischievous smirk. In an instant, he snatched you up and pulled you onto his lap. You kissed him hungrily, straddling him, as his hands glided over your body.

Your mind went foggy, as any composure you had in the situation was evaporating. His lustful kisses scorched your skin as they traveled down your neck. He lifted you higher so that he could drink more of you in. You gasped and sighed at how your body reacted to him, your fingers digging into his scalp. He groaned with pleasure as he found your open mouth again, your tongue a welcoming partner.

He pulled you in tighter, your hips grinding further into him. You felt his want, hard against your body, and you felt the last of your innocence pooling between your legs. The friction made you let out an un-sanctified moan, breaking away from his kiss. The sound of your voice intoxicated him.

You were in a controlled descent backwards as he lowered you to your back.

When did you start trembling? Has it really been that long since your last time?

Your hands danced across his chest, triggering goosebumps. Even his skin wanted you. You writhed beneath him as he positioned himself between your legs. You were bursting like a firecracker with anxious need. Your hands groped him, nails gently grazing - traveling down his torso and beneath the waistband of his boxers.

He gasped as your fingers wrapped around his organ, fluttering his eyes shut at your touch. You were on autopilot, your physical need in command of your body, as you attempted to pull his stiff erection from his boxers.

Mobius snatched your hands and you froze. He pulled your arms up, grasping your hands tightly, and pinned your wrists to the floor on either side of your head. You were hit with a wave of confusion, followed by shame.

Maybe you’d read this wrong. You looked up at him, half-expecting to read an expression of disgust.

What you found was the opposite.

His eyes— gentle, dark, and focused intently on you— telegraphed a message for you to read carefully:

You were not the one in control here.

You felt the wind of butterflies deep in your core as you realized he had clear goals for you in mind. He was asking you - imploring you - for command of your body. For the record, he already had it - whether or not either of you were conscious of it.

You lay still, save for your chest’s gentle movements, as his eyes unravelled the layers of your being. Trapped in his gaze, you were stripped bare in more than just flesh.

You were time travelling again - years into the past. The pages of your chapters fell away, until you felt like a pupil again, watching your master navigating the geography of your body.

His grip softened, giving your palms an affectionate squeeze before he released your hands. His leering gaze was already gliding down your valleys, and his hands followed, letting his fingertips brush the delicate flesh of your forearms as they travelled.

All your mind could do to focus was count your every breath as his touch and kisses grazed your skin. You wondered how long it had been for him. You quivered at the thought of him planning this moment.

He took time tasting you with each kiss - down your chest, your belly, the crest of your hips. You lifted your core with his encouragement, allowing him to pull away your last remaining piece of clothing. You were finally unveiled before him. He sighed softly, mind buzzing, as he delicately spread your legs apart.

He moved so slowly with intention, relishing each moment. You were on the verge of losing it and he had yet to touch your most sensitive areas. He could feel your hips squirm with anticipation.

“I want you,” he pacified you, “more than anything.” He tenderly kissed the inside of your thigh. “But I need to know that you want this too. Without a doubt in your mind.”

You were desperate by this point, way past “willing.” Regardless, he met your eyes, waiting patiently for your consent.

You were consumed with lust. “Please,” you stuttered in passionate exhilaration. You could barely recognize your own voice, “You can do anything you want to me.”

His face twitched into a sinful smirk. “I know.” There was that confidence again. “But that’s not what I asked.” He steadied his composure and fixed himself in your sights once again. You gazed at him with a more sobered expression, giving this moment the respect he wanted.

He watched your lips now that he had your attention. “Tell me you want me to make you feel good,” he seductively implored. “Tell me you want me to take you, here and now. I need to hear you say yes.”

The way he asked for your consent could’ve put you over the edge by itself.

“Yes,” you practically moaned under your breath. It was a sinful, thirsty plea. “God, yes, please. I want you to touch me.”

That ignited his fuse.

He lowered to his elbows, positioning his arms beneath your legs. His mouth was on you, leaving you aghast at the force. It was like he wanted more than just to please you - he relished in devouring you, like a frozen dessert on a hot summer day. You jolted and gasped, more from surprise than pain. He took note anyway, and steadied his animalistic pace.

It wasn’t long until your eyes were rolled in the back of your head. You were thunderstruck, arching your body and moaning with ecstasy.

The way his name sounded each time it sprang from your lips made him drunk. Every time you uttered it, you felt him tense and groan. It was a perpetual cycle. Your hips would reflexively buck from the intense pleasure and he would just hold on tighter. He forced your thighs apart as you encouraged him to unleash more rapture on your body.

This was not a particularly new position for you, but it was good. You weren’t sure where he got the experience, but he was really, really good.

And if “Sacred-you”— “NC-17-rated,” “parental-advisory-warning-labelled” badass-you—could just see yourself now: writhing on the floor while being laid out by an older man, one whom you’d rarely seen out of a brown suit and tie. You didn’t think this man knew how to fire a gun before, but you were practically mewling for him like a kitten.

And god, he really seemed to enjoy it.

You warned him that you couldn’t last much longer. You felt the tension building inside. You wanted desperately to satisfy him, to feel him inside of you, to have him enraptured with you. But unless he slowed down, you were going to lose it right here with his mouth on you. You knew he had needs, and you began to plead with him to let you fulfill them.

You pushed down on his shoulders, begging him to let you have a turn. He pulled away, pausing only briefly.

“Uh uh,” he chastised you with a wicked grin. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

He was back on you before you could reply, this time reaching two of his fingers into your core.

Your head dropped backwards at the sensation, and now you were obscenely begging him for more. You’d happily given up any attempt at controlling what happened next, focusing solely on the nuclear fission in your body.

You blossomed for him as his fingertips pulsed on the most sensitive flesh inside inside you. Muscles you didn’t even remember you had repeatedly contracted. He impurely hummed and he lapped greedily at the fruit of his labor.

You were gasping for air, beaded with sweat, as you came down from your high. He leaned over you to witness the sunset of your orgasm. Eyes full of lust, he pulled himself free of his boxers and discarded them as he watched you.

When you glanced down to see the stunning sight of his stimulation, it re-electrified you. You pulled yourself into a sitting position on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. Your legs straddled him eagerly as he lifted your hips over his member.

The erotic sound you both made as you slid down his shaft was sinful enough to cast you both into hell. You kissed him, open-mouthed, and tasted yourself on his tongue. Now that you were on top of him, wrapped around him, he seemed more frantic and less calculated with his movement.

He was gazing up at you like a lustful teenage boy, letting himself be taken by passion. “God...” he whispered, suddenly less skilled with words. “You feel so... ah!... s-so beautiful...”

“You’re so hard…stretching me so tight,” you groaned into his mouth, and he growled in agreement, nodding his head.

He broke away from the kiss, “God - yes, ah, you’re s-so tight, baby...” You grinned excitedly as you climbed and descended his length. You moaned like a porn star as you rode him.

“I can call you that, can’t I?” he said through his own breathless moans. You glanced at him in confusion. He looked concerned. His hands braced your hips as you continued your movement. “Is that okay?”

“Wha-what?”

“The pet name,“ he explained through sighs, “B-Baby? I-I don’t want it to sound de-demeaning, or... patronizing—”

Okay. Now he was overthinking it.

“It’s fine,” you urged him to move on, growing more frustrated, but now he was babbling nervously.

“I could call you something else—”

“—don’t care—”

“—’s’important to me that you know I respect you, and I’d never—”

“I don’t care, I—You can call me whatever you want. Please, daddy… Just— fuck me…”

You crashed your lips on his, but felt his breath hitch as he tensed you immediately. You either said something very right, or very wrong. The sex had all but come to a screeching halt, as you reluctantly met his eyes.

He gazed at you thoughtfully, gears turning.

Timidly, you searched his face for judgment, for any sign of disapproval, but instead, there was a look of almost— awe.

You watched the change in him as the devil overtook him. His eyes turned three shades darker, pooling with lust. His expression of wonder melted into a devious smile. Your dirty talk awakened something in him, like he was remembering a long-forgotten visceral part of himself.

He scooped you up and laid you on your back again, pulling himself out of your body. You only had a brief time to revolt, until he sat up on his knees and he lifted one of your thighs up, pulling your leg over his shoulder. You watched curiously trying to figure out what he was doing, until he gripped your hips and pulled you downward— over his shaft.

You let out a painfully delicious cry as he bottomed out inside of you. He hungrily watched your expressions and relished in the sound of your moans.

His hand braced the inside of your other thigh, holding your legs open so that you were spread at the right angle for him. As soon as he began to thrust, you were done for.

You groaned with ecstasy. “That’s... it..,” he praised you, eliciting more cries from you.

There were no more performances. There was no more pageantry. No more room for pretending to be anyone other than who you are.

You were coming undone for him, and he watched every moment. Every dirty thought and fantasy you ever had might as well have been written on your body. He studied each line.

“Oh god, Mobius—yes,” you babbled as you squirmed.

“Yeah?” he breathed, teasingly. “Does that feel good?” You nodded frantically.

Sweat beaded down his chest as his hands roamed to find your sweet spot, and another desperate wave of ‘yes’s flooded out from your lips.

“What did you call me?” he enticed, his mouth watering for your response. “What name did you call me before?” You were struggling with words, but he wouldn’t stop until he coaxed the right one from you.

“Say it.”

You tangled your fingers in your scalp, turning your head away. He thrust into your hips a little deeper, and you cried out obscenely.

“Say it,” he repeated, more firmly this time. “I wanna hear you say it again. I wanna watch you say it to me.”

More lewd noises dropped out of your mouth, as you propped yourself up on your elbows. “Yes, please, I love what’re… doing t’ me… I need it, daddy…”

He groaned with a lecherous smile, biting his lip. “You are so good for me.”

Lust was dripping from each word as he drew them out. His honeyed, Southern accent had returned. His eyes were blown black as he cooed with praise, “You make me wanna be so bad.”

You were gone after that. Your head tilted back, crying out through another climax. He could hear his own voice—that’s it that’s it—moaning in the distance somewhere, but he was enthralled with your little pleas. The tones of your voice washed over him; he used them to quell the blaze inside.

He knew everything he wanted to do to you, and everything you wanted him to do. And he couldn’t get past the feeling, as he buried himself deeper inside of you, that this was all... familiar.

This picture of you, spread out gloriously beneath him, was impossibly familiar. He imagined a bed that wasn’t his own, and light blue cotton sheets that couldn’t have been his, and the sunlight peeking from a sheer curtain, and falling across the ecstasy-filled face of his lover that he couldn’t have ever married...

That was....you.

Your voice was echoing in Mobius’ head. You whined and whimpered, glowing with passion, signaling that you were moments away from your climax. And then he was here - on Olympus-V with you, and he felt you tighten and flutter around him.

The sight of you, writhing beneath him as you reached orgasm, pulled a deep moan from his chest. White hot light flooded his vision. His body jerked and reacted in unison, filling you with his seed.

For someone for whom time had little meaning, he was now obsessed - trying to catch and hold back each fleeting moment. He leaned forward, his body spent, and you pulled his chin down into a longing kiss.

His mind was spinning. His lungs were still taking deep breaths. He pulled away slowly and rested his forehead on yours, his eyes closed as he struggled to make sense of what was real and what was a dream.

“I could never let you go,” he declared, deep in contemplation. You didn’t quite understand the connection in the present moment. You didn’t remember.

“Then stay with me,” was your gentle reply.

He gazed once again into your eyes with a knowing smile. “Always.”

A/N: And I'm leaving it there. For now. Please reblog with feedback, or send me a message on your thoughts. This is my first attempt at writing in a long, long time. Also it's my first attempt at smut so be nice with your feedback :-)

THANK YOU to all of you for your wonderful comments. Please reblog for support!

@generalhugzzz @isaxbella749 @yodaboo @aloyssia @simsiddy @coloursforyourportrait

[inadaydream99]

The One With The Perfect Kiss

A/N - Thank you to the lovely 🥕 anon for this request, I loved writing it so much! This is inspired by the Friends episode ‘The One Where They All Turn Thirty’, but with a focus on Phoebe wanting to experience a perfect kiss before her thirtieth birthday. I hope this doesn’t disappoint!

Disclaimer: please remember this is inspired by Friends and the plot is in no way my own original idea! I have changed it a little in order to flow better for the sake of this oneshot.

With the World’s crazy state over the past year and a half it seems as though the concept of time has gone out of the window. It no longer feels odd to not leave the house for five days in a row, or to only see your friends virtually instead of in person. Although you had missed being able to hug your loved ones…

Now that some normality has resumed, you find yourself making more of an effort to meet up with friends, getting excited about the simplest of meetings. Even in person conversations are a novelty. And that’s where you currently find yourself, finally being able to see your best friend San in person for the longest time. You’d been catching each other up on the most recent events when San asked what you want to do for your upcoming birthday.

Then the realisation hit you that it’s your birthday in the next few days. And not just any birthday, but your 21st. Yes, you are reaching the age that everyone puts on a pedestal. The age when you well and truly are an adult.

Unlike most of your friends and their excitement about turning 21, you feel anxious and upset. It’s all because when you were younger you’d written out this list of things you wanted to experience by the time you had your 21st birthday and you’d managed to complete almost everything on that list. All except having the perfect kiss.

Of course, you’ve had plenty of kisses in the past. But they’ve always left you feeling a little underwhelmed, like something was missing; there was never any real sparks between you and your past kissers…

You feel stupid for your reasoning, but it’s something that you’d always hoped you would have experienced by now and yet you’re still waiting.

None of your friends were aware of this list except for San. He was actually the one that made the list with you when you were little; he’d made his own one too and you distinctly remember a few years back when he’d rushed to you during lunch in senior year of high school, excitedly celebrating the fact that he’d just completed the last experience on his list. You remember feeling a tinge of jealousy that he’d completed his first. So you made up a white lie that you’d also finished yours, just so he wouldn’t think you are a loser.

That was actually the last time you’d ever spoken to San about it. In fact, you’re pretty certain he’s forgotten about the existence of those lists altogether.

“What’s up with you today, is everything alright?” You are shaken out of your wandering thoughts, blinking a few times to clear your glazed over eyes, which then focus onto San’s concerned expression.

It’s now that you feel his hand on your shoulder which gently shook you back into reality, and with how close he is to you, you can see how his hair has grown just a little too much over his forehead so the ends go into his eyes.

You open your mouth to respond, but no words come out. Instead it feels like time has frozen around you and you have this strong urge to reach out to delicately brush his hair back so you can see him properly.

Next your gaze trails down to his lips and you wonder what it would feel like to kiss them. They look so inviting, like two plush pink pillows that you wouldn’t mind melting into.

“(Y/N).” You gasp at the urgent call of your name. “You zoned out again.” San chuckles, the corner of his lips quirked into an amused smirk, clearly having noticed the reason behind your daze this time.

“We’ll maybe if you cut your hair.” You roll your eyes, pulling your shoulder away from his hand defensively.

Your reaction sends him into uncontrolled laughter, falling back in his chair and clutching his stomach in the process.

“It really wasn’t that funny.” You grumble, your bottom lip protruding as you sulk.

“Awe come on, stop being so serious all the time.” San giggles, his hand once again reaching out to your shoulder in an attempt to turn your body back to face him.

And you cave in the moment you see him, the way his face is a light shade of crimson from his hysterical laughing and how his eyes seem to glimmer with joy; it’s impossible not to smile.

“I really hate you sometimes.” You playfully quip.

“No you don’t.” San automatically responds, pinching your cheek teasingly.

~

Since seeing San, you’ve spent most of your time trying to figure out how to get the last thing checked off your list. But every possible solution has turned out to either be impossible to achieve or just too much effort.

It’s now getting to the point where you’re thinking of giving up entirely. I mean, technically the only other person that knows about this list thinks you completed it years ago. You could so easily just not worry about it and it wouldn’t matter.

Except for the fact that your mind would torment you about it for the rest of your life, and honestly, you’re not sure if you would be able to put up with yourself for very long.

“Mingi help me!” You whine like a little child.

Yes, you’d ended up confiding in Mingi about your need for the perfect kiss before you turn 21. And yes, he had laughed at you and your strange predicament.

“What exactly do you want me to do? Kiss you? Cause that’s not happening again.” Mingi tries, and fails, to hold back his laughter.

You roll your eyes at him and sigh. You both know that’s not why you’ve turned to him for help, but the fact that he had to mention you have kissed just to annoy you only makes you want to walk away.

“No, no! I’m sorry.” Mingi lurches forward to grab your arm, stopping you from getting away as he notices you get up to leave. “Besides, it needs to be someone you’ve never kissed before…” He continues, falling silent as he ponders over any possible applicants.

“Is there anyone you currently find attractive?” Mingi breaks the thoughtful silence, looking at you with intrigue. Despite the question sounding like it could very easily be another way for him to tease you, his serious expression persuades you otherwise.

You have one person that instantly comes to mind when you hear his question, but that person also happens to the very guy that you’ve known the longest. The very guy that thinks you completed your list. The very guy that you’ve always fantasised about having something more with, and yet, you know that could never happen.

“There might be one person…” You apprehensively mumble, avoiding eye contact with Mingi in case there’s any way he’s able to read your face and know who you’re thinking of.

“Well, who is it?” He presses, hating the suspense. But you’re still undecided if you want to admit it out loud or not.

~

So it’s the evening of your birthday and you find yourself around your friend Yunho’s place.

All your close friends are here, gathered in the small apartment living room. You appreciate the effort Yunho has gone to, putting up multicoloured balloons and placing some snacks on the table, along with a few options of drinks. There’s music playing lightly in the background, not that you’d notice unless you listened out for it, and joy filled conversations fill the air.

As much as you don’t want to appear ungrateful for the effort of your friends, you can’t help yourself from not feeling as talkative and excitable as you usually are. Instead, you opt to sit quietly on the sofa and sip at your drink, watching everyone interact and laughing when Wooyoung clumsily spills coke on the carpet, immediately freaking out and rushing away from the crime scene before he gets caught.

“Sad about being old?” San cheekily pesters as he perches next to you. You chuckle and shake your head, choosing to focus on swirling the liquid around in your cup.

“Your 21st is next month.” You retort airily.

“Seriously though, what’s wrong?” San leans closer to you as he speaks quietly. He can sense that there’s something on your mind and that you clearly don’t want to talk about it in front of an audience.

Luckily for you, you’d chosen to sit on the sofa in the back corner of the room. It was the perfect spot to be out of the midst of the party without leaving the room. That’s why you’d managed to not arouse attention from anyone until San approached.

Finally casting your gaze away from your cup, you notice his concern and decide that now is as good a time as any to come clean to him.

“Do you remember that list we came up with as kids?” You partially mumble, insecure about his reaction. And you don’t need to say anymore, your guilty expression tells all.

“Oh.” San’s eyes widen in realisation, leaning back a little in surprise as all the memories flood back to him. He really hadn’t thought about it in ages. “I thought you completed it?” He scrunches his brows in bewilderment.

You feel ashamed of yourself, only managing to shake your head no in response to his question.

“What do you have left?” San softly encourages you to open up, still keeping his voice hushed in case of any eavesdroppers.

“I’ve never had the perfect kiss…” Your voice becomes shallow. It’s almost painful to admit to him. Even though you are fully aware that it’s not the worst thing in the world and that San doesn’t seem to be mad at you for lying to him. His sympathy doesn’t help though.

There’s a pause between you for a minute, both of you simply staring at each other. Albeit you don’t miss the quick flicker of his eyes to your lips; it doesn’t last more than half a second.

“Happy birthday to you~” The sudden singing jolts you back into the party, Yunho’s hand reaching out to pull you into the centre of the room as everyone sings to you.

They’re none the wiser to the moment they have interrupted, each with an elated beam on their face as you are manoeuvred to the table where the birthday cake is waiting, candles ready for you to blow out.

As the song ends it falls silent with anticipation for you to blow out the candles. But you can’t. They seem to be taunting you, dancing around as if they have won. Because blowing out the candles means exactly that. You’ve been defeated.

“I’m sorry.” You gulp, sprinting out of the room as fast as you can.

Everyone watches, perplexed faces and soft “ohh’s” being uttered in surprise. Mingi, understanding what your reason is, casts his focus towards San.

“I’ll go.” San announces, stopping a very concerned Mingi from chasing after you.

You find yourself in the shared garden of Yunho’s apartment complex, needing the fresh air and space to compose yourself.

“I’m an idiot.” You grumble to yourself, covering your face with your palms in distress before pulling them away and shaking off the panic. You take a few deep breaths and relax your shoulders, preparing yourself to go back inside and face everyone.

You spin back around and instantly freeze in place, your mouth hanging agape as you turn to see San stood a meter behind you. He must have seen you trying to calm down.

But his expression isn’t worried or sympathetic like before. It carries a sense of thought and decisiveness, which springs him into action as he urgently rushes to you.

Without being given a second to comprehend what’s about to happen, you are swept up into his arms, one of his hands holding your cheek as he pulls you towards him by your waist. His lips smash against yours abrasively, but not so hard that it hurts, just enough to convey all his pent up feelings. It’s hurried but passionate.

It takes you a second to respond, but you feel him smile when you kiss back. Your head spinning as you melt into his embrace. Your entire being consumed by him, the world fizzing around you in a blurry haze.

You pull apart breathless, panting hot breath as your noses brush against each other’s. San’s smile melts your heart. And you know if you were able to form a coherent thought in your mind, it’d be that you must be dreaming.

You take a moment to take him in, noticing how his hair is splayed out messily across his forehead, the ends irritating his eyes and it’s almost funny how he still hasn’t cut them. But this time you give in to temptation, your hand instinctively reaching out to brush the strands away so you can admire him properly.

“That was perfect.” You confess, cherry tinted cheeks only growing warmer and warmer. “Thank you.” You whisper, an elated giggle tumbling from your lips.

“I’m glad I could help.” San coo’s, his eyes drinking you in as his hand reaches back out to hold your chin. “Think you’re ready to blow out those candles now?” He quirks his brow, taking the opportunity to lightly tease you while he knows he can get away with it.

You attempt to roll your eyes at him but he places a quick peck on your lips to distract you.

“Now I am.” You grin, separating from San enough to take in some fresh air, his hand simultaneously taking yours and intertwining your fingers together. And that’s how you stay as you head back to the party, finally ready to turn 21 with your completed list.

[changbinslovelylegs]

Stray Kids reaction your first kiss

Chan

It was a week into dating. Chan wanted to try and be as gentelmen-ly as possible and do things the right way and one of tht things he read was to wait a week before you kiss her. You asked to be kissed earlier but Chan said no and that you shouldn't have a first kiss not be special. Chan took you out on a nice date to make the day special before finally kissing you at the end of it.

Minho

It was 3 days into dating. You and Minho had spent the whole day together doing cute stuff like sharing ice-cream and having a picnic in a park. The day turned into night and your sat in his car watching the sunset. "I had such a nice day today" You smiled at Minho when turning towards you. "me too sweetness, let me show you" That's when Minho leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. it was so soft and lovely you felt your eyes closing in pure bliss. "oh my, wow" was your only response, still in bliss even after he pulled away.

Changbin

It was 4 days into dating. You were just chilling at Changbin's place watching some movies. The two of you had only started dating recently and so far it was only hugs and hand-holding. Changbin seemed to be getting bored of the movie however and decided to pause it. "lets do something else" he stated and turned to you. "and what would you like to do?" I asked as he leaned in, pressing his sweet lips to mine.

Hyunjin

It was a week into dating. Hyunjin had been invited to your house to meet your family, invited by you of course. The night was spent for Hyunjin nervously trying to make sure that your parents liked him and maybe cracking a joke or 2. By the end of the night Your parents called it a night and headed upstairs, giving you two space to say a proper goodbye. "I had an amazing time tonight, thank you for meeting my family" you took his hands in yours, wanting to show your thanks. but Hyunjin had other ideas. Instead he pulled you in for a sweet kiss, a kiss filled with love and passion which left you breathless.

Jisung

It was actually on the first day you met. You had recently broken up with your boyfriend but he refused to believe that you no longer had feelings for him so in the heat of the moment you said met someone else. For the next few days, all your ex wanted to do was meet your new man. While on your way to class you bumped into someone as your ex walked by "oh so this is your new bf?" he asked quite rudely. you leaned up to whisper in mystery boy's ear; "just go with it please, I'll make it worth your while" then replied to your ex "yes he is, say hello to my new lover" you leaned in to capture his lips in a sweet kiss, lingering for far too long just to annoy him before pulling away. "The names Jisung, now please kindly fuck off" he shoed your ex away. "So I guess I'm your new bf hmm?"

Felix

It was 5 days into dating. You and Felix went to see a movie together, but lets say half way through Felix turned to face you; "I'm not enjoying this movie babe, you you?" he whispered/asked. Truth be told you were also feeling underwhelmed with the movie, so you replied agreeing. "I really want to kiss you right now, can I?" and you nodded, anything to distract you from the poor movie, you weren't entirely sure whether you wanted your first kiss with Felix to be in a cinema or not but at this point you no longer cared as he leaned in and kissed you. It lingered for a few seconds but when he pulled away it had you longing for another. "nope, more" you pulled him in again.

Seungmin

It was 10 days into dating. You and your brother had been having some issues lately because you were thinking of moving out but he thought you were too young to do so. He said some things he knew he would regret since it made you storm out of the house in tears and all the way to Seungmin's apartment. "Oh baby what happened, come here" Seungmin took you in his arms and was quick to start rubbing soothing circles on your back. "Just my brother being an asshole, he claimed that I can't take care of myself just because I sometimes forget to turn off the lights!" "Don't listen to him baby he's wrong" Seungmin leaned in to kiss away your tears but in the moment decided to kiss you properly as well, capturing your plump lips and sealing them in his. So soft and so warm, it seemed to go on forever.

Jeongin

It was 2 weeks into dating. You had wanted to take things slow with Jeongin and it was nothing against him but your previous boyfriend wasn't the nicest so this time you wanted to be slow. You were hanging out at Jeongin's place when suddenly you felt ready, maybe it was the way he would laugh at your jokes or when he never wanted to let go of your hand but you were ready. "kiss me" you just randomly blurted out, so randomly that you covered your mouth in shock. "wait really? are you completely sure?" Jeongin wanted to assure since he knew your boundaries. "yes i'm sure, Innie kiss me." That was all the consent he needed to grab your face and pull you in for a kiss. it was the most sweet and loving kiss you had ever have it had you sighing with delight.

[rayslittlekitten]

Hello to you ❤️ on this fine celebratory weekend 🥳 For your 500 followers ficlet challenge, may I please request a smutty ficlet with Alan McMichael (I watched Crimson Peak recently and okay so it’s not one of Charlie’s bigger roles, but oh is sweet soft Alan now one of my fave Charlie characters 💘) with the following gif

(gahh look at him looking all fine, clean and handsome whilst going about his working day 💓) and three words strip, shock, sweet.

I’d also be happy if you’d prefer the same three words with Will 😋, as I’m aware Charlie’s character in Crimson Peak wasn’t really one of the main ones.

Than you so much for your submission and as always for your support!! I always LOVE reading your comments! I am forever grateful for them. Hope this is smutty enough for you.

“Consummation”

500 Follower Ficlet Challenge Masterlist

A/N: Okay so I've only seen Crimson Peak once and that was when it first came out. I found it a little underwhelming. I had higher expectations because of some of the other Guillermo Del Toro movies I've seen. Hellboy and Pacific Rim are probably my top two. Charlie also had a tiny role. So if this seems a little OOC, sorry! This is like AU, reader is like Edith, but not Edith if that makes any sense. This is also my first time writing anything with Alan McMichael. Coulda did Will, but I like a challenge.

Rating: M

Pairing: Alan McMichael x F!reader

Contains: fluff, events leading to first time de-virginizing wedding night sex

Word Prompts: strip, shock, sweet

Alan has always been such a gentleman. Too gentle, some would say. He's just a wholesome, sweet, honest man. It's what most women yearn for in a man, in a friend, in a husband – except for the women his mother would set him up with. They wanted someone who is charming, passionate, confident, assertive. Dark and mysterious. Someone who can demand attention in a room by merely entering it. Alan are those things, but not in a self-absorbed way.

Mrs. McMichael never approved of you, but Alan didn’t care. He was drawn to you and saw something in you that he didn’t see in the others.

After pursuing you and getting to know you, he asked for your hand in marriage. Spinster, you say, Mrs. McMichael?

You’re both now standing in his bedroom – your bedroom too. This moment has been on your mind since you woke this morning. In fact, you were barely able to sleep. You have never been with a man before, just as he have not been with a woman. Both of you are nervous and excited to consummate your marriage.

After ridding of his suit jacket, he walks over to you and looks you up and down. You feel warmth on your cheeks as he soaks you in. You stay standing where you are and look back at him, not knowing what else to do.

“You look so beautiful in that dress,” Alan breaks the silence.

“Thank you, Alan. You look handsome in that suit.”

“But I would love to see the true beauty underneath all that.” Alan takes a step closer to you. He’s so close you can feel the heat emanating off of him. He reaches up to cup your face and he kisses you. Alan has kissed you before, but never like this. He’s kissing you with urgency and passion. It’s making you feel things inside of you that you have never felt before. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you against his body. You also feel something rigid below your waist pressing against you. His hands travel down to your backside and he cups you through your white, puffy dress.

Alan pulls back from your lips and you are left breathless. You see a fire in his eyes you have never seen before.

“Turn around,” Alan tells you. You are shocked by his assertiveness. You do as he says and you feel him starting to unzip your dress. You let him strip you of your garments until you are wearing nothing but your jewelry. You turn back towards him, feeling vulnerable. Your eyes glance down to the front of his trousers and see a very noticeable bulge.

Alan takes in a sharp breath as he admires your naked body.

“Lay down.” Alan nods towards the bed.

You slowly walk over and lay your back on the cool bed and soft sheets. You watch him disrobe himself before he gets on top of you, ready to officially make you his.

[thesebookishdelights]

ANY WAY THE WIND BLOWS: Simon Snow trilogy wrapped! (review)

Hi, there! It took me a while to finish this post, as I could talk about it for... a long time (not necessarily a good thing), but I got it! I like praise, so if anyone wants to tell me I did a good job... Also, I might edit this post later on. I don’t remember anything else I’d like to add, but I wouldn’t be surprised if I did after posting. My brain does not obey me. Anyways, off to it! By the way, I won’t give this book a real rating.

While this is a review on Any Way the Wind Blows, I intend on analysing some points of the overall series too. The book starts where Wayward Son left off, the end of the road trip, Simon and Baz having problems in their relationship, Penelope helping Shepard with his curse... and the whole situation of the NowNext vampires. Rainbow Rowell only seems to remember the first part. That leaves us with the second book of the series ignored almost completely, with the exception of Simon and Baz’s feelings as well as Shepard’s existence.

Don’t get me wrong, aspects of the book are mentioned, but never in a truly important way. Lamb, the Vampire King, is mentioned by Simon, but only focusing on his and Baz’s relationship, never about the fact that there are a bunch of vampires (supposedly ‘evil’) in the U.S. but I guess what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right? I could count on one hand the times the NowNext vampires were mentioned (like, literally, this isn’t an exaggeration, I looked up ‘NowNext’ on the e-book and only got five results), all of them either being one of them considering telling someone else about it, then not following through with it, or dismissing it as a concern for Lamb. Which makes the plot of Wayward Son completely useless for the trilogy. Now, that wouldn’t matter as much if everything else had been properly developed, but we definitely can’t say that.

We are introduced to a brand new, poorly developed villain, Smith-Smith Richards, whose character arc is as ridiculous as his name. He’s one of the fake Chosen Ones that started appearing after the events of Carry On (and the only one to be mentioned and/or defeated, for that matter). It becomes clear that presenting as Simon Snow-ish is part of his brand, especially when Baz describes him as looking like the Netflix adaptation version of Simon, and that he was raised and guided by his uncle, who’s just... there. I don’t think it would’ve been hard to make him manipulating Smith-Smith into believing he’s the prophetic savior of the Magickal World, which would not only make both of their characters more interesting, but it could also serve as a parallel of Simon’s relationship with the Mage. Richards also has some special powers such as increasing a mage’s magic for a limited amount of time, but taking it away afterwards, as well as making someone immune from spells. It’s worth saying those aren’t skills that are usual in the Magickal World, or else there wouldn’t be so much confusion and shock from people (specially Baz and Penny, who would definitely have heard of something like this before), but we get no explanation on why or how Richard has them.

Then, we have the Salisbury’s. We, as readers, already know Lucy and Davy are Simon’s parents, making Ruth his grandmother. It’s noticeable that Rowell builds up to that discovery, by making Simon get along with Ruth instantly, him thinking about Lucy a lot etc. It makes us excited to read the part where they actually figure it out, to know how Simon would deal with that, him dealing with the fact that he’s the Mage’s son and the fact that, technically, he killed his father. I suppose that’s the point, but actually getting to that part was incredibly underwhelming. The way they discovered about Simon—being able to lift a family sword—hadn’t been mentioned or hinted at before. One would’ve expected Simon, who’s particularly interested in swords as it’s mentioned many times throughout the series, to notice a freaking Excalibur at the Salisbury’s place before. 

And speaking of noticing things: when it’s finally revealed that Simon is Lucy’s son and the Mage’s heir, Baz pointed out the uncanny similarities between his boyfriend and the deceased Watford principal. “Those narrow eyes. That tilt of his head. I thought... I thought he’d learned it. Was imitating it.” + “Merlin, Simon, you even look like him.”  (Any Way the Wind Blows, chapter 86) Simon was the Mage’s protégé for years and I assume the Magickal authorities knew that he was the one to inherit all of his money and personal belongings, but no one, in the whole British Magickal community, thought about them being related? I refuse to believe there were no conspiracy theorist teachers at Watford or that Mitali or even the Pitch’s alongside everyone who was against the Mage didn’t at least check to know if there was something behind those characteristics. Baz literally said (chapter 88), “I think it’s undeniable. I’d cast ‘Flesh and blood’ on them, but it would bounce right off of Snow (...)”, so there is a spell for that. Plus, we didn’t even have one whole chapter of Simon dealing with this information! The chapters (no more than five, out of ninety-one) were divided between Simon, Baz and Lady Ruth’s POVs. He’s the main character, so one would think he’d get more development.

Another point that felt rushed was the romance. While Simon and Baz’s relationship wasn’t, as it’s been a topic Rowell has explored for three books (we’re not counting Fangirl here, as their ‘participation’ on it was minor and their personalities weren’t as consistent as in the trilogy. Not that it is that consistent there), the others just felt like she wanted everyone to finish the trilogy with a pair. I’ll start with Shepard and Penny. There were fans who liked them together before Any Way the Wind Blows, but it wasn’t hinted at—it was more like a fandom thing. I personally like them as a couple, but it could have had development and, maybe, foreshadowing in Wayward Son. I mean, they did fight monsters during a huge part of a road trip together.

The next one I’ll talk about is Agatha and Niamh. I love them, don’t get me wrong. Actually, it’s precisely because I love them that I wish they’d gotten a better treatment. Niamh wasn’t introduced before Any Way the Wind Blows. I get why she wasn’t introduced in Carry On—it was interesting to see a character who wasn’t caught up in Simon and Baz’s drama during the school years—but a hint of her existence could’ve been left in Wayward Son. Agatha is an important character on it, and a mention of her father training an aspiring veterinary could’ve fit somewhere, as a hint, maybe. (Also, Lucy, the dog, being absolutely forgotten during this book when a lot of Agatha’s time is spent in a veterinary clinic...) Besides, we could get the vibes from them, but after they kissed, there was barely any content. We didn’t get them calling each other ‘girlfriend’ (or if they even like that label at this point), or the aftermath of the kiss, or a POV from Niamh. Or Niamh appearing the epilogue? If Agatha was taking care of the goats, I’m sure Niamh would have a part in that too. Still on Agatha’s character, but not on Niamh��s, it felt like Rainbow Rowell was setting up for aromantic and asexual Agatha, specially because of this quote: “It was like she'd pulled the feeling right out of my heart. I could have kissed her. (I still wish sometimes that I wanted to.) (That would feel like an answer to... the question of me. Then I could say, 'Oh, thats who I am. That's why I've been so confused.')” (Wayward Son, chapter 4).

And I was leaving the best (I need to be sure everyone knows I mean this sarcastically) of the romance topic for the end: Fiona and Nicodemus. It’s just... so forced and undeveloped. Not even because, to me, they’re both gay as hell. There was just... such a lack of development! I don’t think we had any interaction between the both of them before Any Way the Wind Blows. There was no foreshadowing or why would Fiona, a vampire hunter from a family of vampire hunters, would marry... a vampire! I’d already find it weird to see fanfiction of them as a crackship, but it’s canon?! Like, canon as in they’re going to get married and use Fiona and Natasha’s mother’s ring? Seriously, nothing will take from me that this is a lavender marriage (as I’ve already discussed with my best friend, which inspired this post of theirs.)

I’d also like to speak about a topic that’d been hinted throughout the series, especially post-Carry On, which is the criticism towards the Magickal Community in the U.K.. That criticism is very much embodied in Shepard’s character. It’s explicitly said that the British mages have some kind of supremacy towards other supernatural beings, such as vampires for example, gatekeeping literal magic. Up until relatively recently, mages with weak links with magic couldn’t attend Watford (and that’s a major plot point in the final book) and there’s a denial towards any other kind of magic except the ones that are part of their craft. Even within the Magickal community itself, there are more important families that are more likely to succeed, like Natasha receiving criticism for marrying Malcolm, as a Pitch. It felt pointless not to tackle the issues you’ve set up yourself in your own universe. Penelope has very strict morals related to magickal law and beliefs, something that she could’ve deconstructed, especially considering Shepard, her love interest, symbolises that. Another point related to that is, the trilogy is very clearly heavily inspired by Harry Potter, where many of those points are very clear (e.g. wizard supremacy in relation to other species, such as werewolves and domestic elves and the status quo that makes some traditionally magical families more influential than others, like the Malfoy’s vs. the Weasley’s), so it’s not an easily forgettable concept.

The series also had a lot of inconsistencies. The one I’ve seen talked about more often is Simon and Agatha’s... intimacy status, let’s call it that. Simon’s whole thing in the first book was that he struggled controlling his magic when experiencing intense emotions, which makes it hard to believe that he managed to have sex withount an... accident. Besides that, though, there’s this quote, “She (...) presses a kiss into my temple. No one has ever kissed me there. No one has ever kissed me anywhere but on my mouth” (Carry On, Chapter 27), but in Any Way the Wind Blows, when Simon’s about to have his wings cut, Agatha says, “It’s a strange feeling to look at someone’s chest and know it’s nothing to do with you anymore, but still to remember kissing every inch.” (Chapter 14)

So, we have established that Rainbow Rowell’s work, both character and plot driven, is flawed. “But we got the characters interacting for the closure of the series, at least!” Well... we got interactions between the canon romantic relationships, yeah. But besides that, we didn’t get much. There were no interactions between Agatha and Penny, or Shepard with Simon and Baz. Or Penny and her mother figuring stuff out. Or literally anyone with a therapist. And not gonna lie, the interaction we got between Baz and Dev was underwhelming, to say the least. Niall is nowhere to be seen, too.

Rainbow Rowell’s writing is beautiful: she writes poetic lines that make the book seem perfect at first glance, if you don’t think about it for too long. Her words are very shiny, but once you get use to that light and see what’s behind them, what’s between one shiny quote and another, it has so many flaws and plot holes that it reads like a first draft. There are many concepts in there that are genuinely good: the rest of the trilogy focused on the protagonist dealing with the trauma of being a child soldier instead of being entirely an adventure, Simon being unlabelled, a fake Chosen One that gives mages fake hope... Those are all good ideas, but so poorly explored that, despite being an entire book/trilogy, it still feels like a writing pitch or something among those lines.

I felt iffy about other things during my reading of the series, but they aren’t exactly plot points, so I’ll just list them below:

Mitali, Penny’s mom, including ‘discovering your bisexuality’ as a mid-life crisis thing 

As I’ve seen people talking about biphobia/bi erasure in the books, I’ll be including this post that features both unlabelled and bisexual individuals talking about the topic (it isn’t my place, as a lesbian, to talk about this, that’s why I decided not to do so.)

Romanticising of Baz’s suicide (a.k.a. chapter 61) in the first book. If you’re not in a good place mentally, like I was when I first read Carry On, I hope you know that a kiss or romance doesn’t help any mental illness you or others might have. Don’t let anyone use your guilt to manipulate you. Paraphrasing Alice Oseman in their graphic novel Heartstopper, love can’t cure a mental illness.

Any Way the Wind Blows was... very horny. I can’t point out how this makes the book bad exactly, but it wasn’t something I enjoyed. One of Rainbow Rowell’s strongest skills is that her quotes, when loose, are good. They tend to be poetic and just beautiful, overall. But in the... explicit scenes, these skills were barely used, and I felt like I was reading NSFW tweets off of someone’s private account on Twitter. Besides, the first two books of the series weren’t written like that, so the change was very sudden.

The older people could’ve been more explored. Penelope and Mitali’s relationship and how similar the both of them are compared to each other, Daphne and Professor Bunce’s insecurities and why they believed in Smith-Smith, Fiona, Nico, and Ebb... Also, the Mage and Lucy. We could’ve had more on them, y’know. 

The pop culture references. They made the book read even more like Twitter’s feed. Honestly, if I wanted to read prompts and nice ship content alongside memes from Twitter with some horny thoughts sprinkled all around, I would’ve opened the Twitter app. Or Tumblr, Instagram, whatever.

The POV switching felt lazy to me at times. It’s nice to know how different characters are experiencing that situation, yes, but sometimes, like during the discovery that Simon is a Salisbury, it read as if Rowell wanted to create tension, but couldn’t think of any other way to do it except the switching around.

Narrative wise, I think Simon and Baz should’ve spent more time broken up. 

[ihearthes]

Author: @ihearthes Pairing: Harry x Unnamed OFC Rating: Light Smut Word Count: 3500 Inspired by: @wanderlustwaving and “The Lady or the Tiger” by Frank Stockton

His eyes dart around the bar, seeking her. She has to be here. It’s tradition. Their tradition. January 1st. Every year. Sunset. Anguilla. The Four Seasons. 

Harry had booked this table nearest the bay a full year ago, confirming it in mid-June and again in early December. Sitting silently, his eyes shaded behind his sunnies, he watches the giant ball of fire as it descends into the water. Less of a sizzle than one would expect. Each sip of his Casamigos Blanco over ice is perfect. The sky lights up with oranges, reds, and yellows that are reflected on the clouds, resembling the Monet painting San Giorgio Maggiore at Dusk which he had viewed in Cardiff. A second version hangs in Tokyo at Bridgestone Museum, and he had been lucky enough to see it once. 

The longer he watches its descent, the more he realises that this sunset is different from the paintings he’d seen. His fingers itch for watercolours or acrylics even though he knows his amateurish strokes would never capture the beauty. Last year, the sunset had been underwhelming, the clouds obscuring rather than reflecting the colours. Their first year, he had been unable to believe what he was seeing. It had been stunning with the reach of the palette across the sky, like tendrils of smoke straining to hug the entire planet. Now he captures his journal from the extra chair, opening it’s leather binding to a blank page. Flipping back to the beginning of his journal, he finds a sketch of her leaning on the railing -- drawn from memory years after their first meeting. His mind casts backwards to the non-date that had launched this annual trip. 

“Wow.” The voice belongs to a woman who steps to the railing next to him, leaning forward and twisting her head to take in the full sunset. Glancing at her, he does a double take as he recognizes her. Holy shit. She’s even more stunning in person. 

“Oh, I’d give it a solid 8.5,” Harry’s calm voice is the opposite of his turbulent emotional state. 

“Seriously? It’s much closer to a 9.2.”

“You’ve lost your mind. It’s worthwhile, but not a 9.2,” he scoffs, shifting his body slightly closer to hers. He turns toward her, planting a single forearm on the railing as he observes her in her floral sarong that matches her bikini top. Her hair is bundled lazily on top of her head, and her tanned feet are encased in strappy sandals. Surreptitiously, he takes in her curves while she’s examining the sunset. 

Twisting her head quickly, she catches his eyes on her ass. Rather than blushing, he smiles at her instead, well aware that the dimple is doing it’s job appropriately. The live steel drum band starts a new song, and she boldly turns to him, holding out her hand. “Dance?”

He doesn’t respond verbally. Grasping her fingers, Harry wraps one arm around her waist, stepping into her and leading them in time with the music. When he twirls her rather expertly, she laughs, planting a hand on his chest and gazing up at him with what appears to be a phony bashfulness. 

“I didn’t know you could dance,” she laughs. 

“Clearly you’ve never seen me live on stage,” Harry smirks. 

She clucks her tongue, “Oh, but I have. I said what I said, Styles.”

Looking away from her, he can’t help the smile that breaks loose. Damn, she’s got moxie. And it’s intriguing and beguiling. 

“You’re here alone?” he wonders, his eyes roaming the outdoor space. It’s filled with strangers -- to him anyway. 

“Tonight only. Yes.” She twirls him, and he grins at the move. 

“Me too.” The soft words are spoken into her ear as he’s drawn her closer. “I like to spend the first night of the year reflecting on the previous year.”

“Isn’t that what New Year’s Eve is for?” she wonders, her voice breathy. 

“Nah. That’s for drinking and celebrating with friends. Today is for reflection -- looking backwards and forwards simultaneously.”

“Planning to conquer the world this year, Mr. Styles?” 

“Indeed.” Arching an eyebrow, he mimics a cartoon villain, drawing his pinky to his mouth. 

She slaps at his chest, and he desperately wants to kiss her in that moment. After all, they are flirting, aren’t they? 

“Are you going to offer me dinner?” she asks boldly. “And take me to your room afterwards?”

Woah. Definitely gutsy. “Depends,” he whispers as he spins them both around once more while the band winds down. 

“On what?” 

“On what kind of sushi you prefer.”

“Ah!” There’s a gleam in her eye that he can’t resist. She’s playful and not shy about being the seductress. Harry finds the combination heady. Waving her hand in dismissal as she turns towards his table, “I usually try whatever the newest offering is -- especially if it’s fresh from those waters.” Fingers waggle in the direction of the bay, and he wants to grasp them out of the air and wrap them protectively in his own hand. 

Instead, he applauds the band before following behind her. At the table, she drags her chair from the opposite side of the small round table until she’s sat beside him. With his questioning glance, she again gestures towards the bay. “I’m not going to miss that sunset just so I can stare at your pretty face.” 

Rather than sketching the sunset, he attempts to paint the current sight with words. Everything he writes seems trite: clementines, flames, majestic, radiant, blush, hearth.

Where is she? Yes, it had been a year since they had spoken, but surely she would have sent a message if she weren’t planning to join him? Why hadn’t they exchanged numbers? Followed each other on Instagram? 

But he knows why. The mystery. The transcendental experience. The enchantment of meeting once a year, incognito, in this particular and magnificent place. No knowledge of each other outside of this 24 hours that belongs to them alone. 

Which is ridiculous. Because he certainly knows who she is and follows her career. And he would be astonished if she didn’t also pay attention to his. A few times this last year they had coincidentally been in the same city simultaneously, and he had seriously debated trying to locate her. Contact her manager maybe. Or put out feelers that would certainly have stretched to her ears like an old-fashioned game of Chinese Whispers (which of course isn’t what he should call the game now; it’s racist). The message, though, would have been garbled but sufficient for them to meet up. 

Every time, he refrained. Their unspoken commitment was to this place and this one day a year. Now he regrets not making contact. Had she decided that one day a year wasn’t worth the effort? Was she even now canoodling with someone else? There hadn’t been rumours of any recent love affairs on her end, and he snatches his phone anxiously to search her name just in case she connected with someone during the last week.

Picking up his now-empty glass of tequila as he scrolls through his phone, Harry draws an ice cube into his mouth, swirling it on his tongue to relish every tiny bit of the liquor there. The burn has vanished as it’s taken him nearly an hour to drink one tequila. No record of any new beaus. Maybe he should follow her now on social media? DM her? What would he do if she didn’t show? How much longer should he wait? 

“Oh yum! This roll is even better than last year’s.” She proclaims as she rushes to grasp the last bite of the Ceviche Roll. 

“Hey! That was mine!” Harry protests, laughing as she stuffs the full piece in her mouth. 

“Order more,” she mumbles around the rice, fish, and seaweed flavored with citrus and cilantro. 

“Nah, I’ve got a different appetite now,” he murmurs, watching her lips as she chews the sushi. 

Freezing, her eyes rush to his, and she slowly finishes the sushi she’s been eating, swallowing slowly. He wishes that she would move her chair to his side of the table like she had the previous year. This time, they’re seated on opposite sides of the table, but at an angle where both can watch the setting sun. 

“What?” Her look has made him nervous. “You’re not going to tell me you’re seeing someone, are you?” 

Her hair twirls as she shakes her head. “No. Broke up with him last week in anticipation of this.”

Having sipped his tequila, Harry chokes at her words. Coughing, he grasps the table with both hands. Holy fuck. She didn’t really expect him to --

“Kidding!” Her giggle lights up her eyes, bringing a light blush to her face. She’s truly stunning. Maybe even more than last year. 

When her foot, sans sandal, caresses his calf under the table, he knows that the night is going to be filled with sex. Fun, hot, brilliant sex that will last most of the night. Hmm...perhaps it would be best to fortify himself for their escapades. Raising his hand, he flags down the server. 

“Sir?”

“Another Ceviche Roll, por favor. Plus a bottle of Casamigos.” He pauses as her foot makes its way further up his leg, and he wonders if she’s going to slide under the table completely. “Send it to my room, please.” Voice catching as her toes make contact with his crotch, he demands, “Put it all on my tab please. I’ll settle up later.” 

With a nod of agreement, the server disappears. Quickly Harry rises, adjusting his slacks as he glances around the room. 

“Let’s go,” his voice rumbles. 

“But H -- the sunset,” she whines. 

“My room has the same view,” he insists, holding out his hand which she grasps. Gracefully sliding her foot back into her sandal, she rises and glides behind him towards the elevator. 

His stomach rumbles at the thought of eating, and he debates ordering food. The sushi at the sunset lounge is always fresh. In the past, though, they’ve enjoyed the dishes together, trying new ones every year. Dejected, he places his glass harshly on the table, his disappointment at her absence radiating across his psyche like the colours of the sunset. 

“I would say it’s a solid 8.5,” her voice sounds from over his shoulder, and he twists in surprise. Like the sunset beckons the stars, she summons happiness to his soul. He scrambles to rise, kissing her on both cheeks, his lips lingering each time. Not too long, though, in case others are watching and photographing. Which he always assumes these days. Fans. Paps. No privacy exists anywhere. 

“Hi,” he whispers, grateful for her presence, but unable to say the words that would tell her how worried he’s been. That might reveal too much of his emotions. And his heart. 

Fuck. When had his heart gotten involved? And why hadn’t he realised before this particular moment? 

“You agree?” she smiles, gesturing to the sunset. 

“I would say it’s a 9 or maybe even a 9.2,” Harry smiles, his dimple making an appearance to rival the sunset in front of them. 

“You finished your drink,” she nods at his empty glass. 

“I started early.” It’s a lame excuse, and he knows it. 

His annual partner tilts her head in his direction. “Or maybe I’m late?”

Not knowing how to respond, Harry waits, his fingers playing with the coaster underneath his drink, spinning it around, the glass slowly rotating with the cardboard circle with the restaurant’s name on it. 

“I debated,” she whispers, “unsure if I should…”

The server appears, a smile on his face. His white trousers and white shirt are complemented by a blue scarf at his neck, his accent strong. 

“What can I get you?”

Harry notices the man’s gaze on his companion’s breasts which draws his own attention to the bosom swelling around the buttons of her frock, which he just now notices has sunflowers across the lower half of the skirt. Was that on purpose? 

When she exchanges a knowing glance with Harry and smoothes the fabric over her legs, it becomes clear that she knows exactly what she was doing by choosing this dress.

He shifts in his seat. 

“I’ll have what he’s having,” she announces. 

Harry reminds the server, “Two Casamigos on the rocks please. And your newest sushi roll with light brown rice please. Thanks.”

Nodding, his date agrees to the order, and he’s relieved that at least the basics haven’t changed in the last year. 

“You were saying?” he prompts as the steward moves away from them. 

“Oh,” she blushes, her cheeks tinging slightly pink. “I just...wasn’t sure…” She swallows, her head down before she makes eye contact with him, “that this was a good idea.”

Taken aback, Harry settles his bum more deeply in his chair, feeling blindsided by the comment, wishing he had his tequila to soothe him in this moment. “I see,” he mumbles. 

“Harry --” she begins, and he waves a hand in her direction. 

“It’s just casual,” he unceremoniously argues, “right?” But his heart clutches at the phrasing. 

Her eyes drop to her lap where her hands are entwined. “Yes. I guess.” Her whisper makes him sweat. Fuck. Had she decided this was it? The last time? “It’s a pretty sunset,” she adds.

“Absolutely,” he concurs, anxious at what else she might say. Silence descends on the table much faster than the stars appear in the sky above them. Should he be vulnerable? Tell her how he feels? What he’s thinking? 

This year’s live steel drum band begins a new song, and without pause, she rises, holding her hand out for him to grasp. Grateful for the reprieve, he joins her in their corner of the outdoor restaurant, placing one hand on her waist as she rests her head on his chest. Together, they sway, and his mind wanders.

“I need another lime!” she shrieks gleefully, holding the bottle of tequila in her hand. Harry shakes his head from his position flat on the bed. They are going to need clean sheets before they sleep tonight. Maybe they will go to her room for actual sleep? 

What the fuck is he thinking? As if they had actually slept during their rendezvous in the previous two years. 

“Here. Hold this,” she laughs, thrusting a lime towards Harry to place in his mouth, pulp out. 

“Mhm. Me next,” he mumbles just before his teeth wrap around the green rind.

“You bet,” she giggles. Settling herself on the bed as she straddles him, her soft parts landing on his cock encased in its bright green briefs. She slides down his legs and leans forward, holding the bottle of tequila out to the side. “Mmmmm.” Licking a stripe up from the base of his underpants to his navel, she sprinkles salt there before tilting the bottle of Casamigos and allowing a shot of tequila to land in his taut navel. He’d worked hard on his abs the last couple of months, knowing that he would be lying here with her. They’ve got definition that most blokes only dream of. 

Quickly, her tongue captures the salt before she sucks the tequila from his belly and shifts forward to suck the lime that’s in his mouth. Fuck. If he hadn’t been hard before they started this game, he’s certainly got a hammer between his legs now. 

As he releases the lime for her, she grips it in her teeth, leaning backwards in her bra and panties, her core now on his chest, and he can’t resist reaching out with a single finger and tracing a pattern over the treasure he knows is underneath. 

“You waxed for me this year,” he comments. 

“No,” she protests, “I waxed for me this year. You give great oral, and I wanted nothing to get in the way. It’s been far too long since my pussy has been properly eaten.” 

“Oh?” Harry’s eyebrow raises, as he knows a couple of people who she dated during the previous year. 

“Yep. I would say,” she smiles, leaning down to capture his mouth in a kiss, her lips hovering just above his, “about exactly a year.”

“Hey…” he begins as they finish their silent dance just as their drinks arrive along with the plate of sushi, but he’s interrupted. 

“Here are your drinks. Our newest sushi roll is the Hot Lover,” which makes Harry cringe and shift again in his seat. “It’s spicy tuna, shrimp tempura, and avocado wrapped in soybean paper.” 

As he places the food in front of them, Harry smiles sadly and nods as the gentleman fades away into the restaurant, like the sunset has drifted into the ocean. 

“You were going to say something?” she asks, and he loses all of his courage. 

Shaking his head, he grasps a piece of the sushi roll between his fingers, sliding it onto his tongue. 

“Not bad,” he comments as he chews, trying to tuck the food in his cheek so he’s not rude. 

“It’s really not got a lot of flavour,” she grins as she mimics his eating habit. “Kind of boring.”

Did she mean their relationship? Was this one of those double-entendres? Swallowing the fish and rice concoction, he sips his tequila as the sushi sticks in his throat. For some reason, he wants to cry. It makes no sense, but the tears come unbidden to his eyes. Fuck. Looking away, he sips more of his drink as he watches the remnants of the sunset fade away, blinking furiously. 

“I wanted to call you when we were both in New York this year,” he comments softly. 

Her fingers pause halfway to her mouth, the soybean-paper-wrapped piece of sushi hovering near her lips. Harry watches as she debates how to respond to his comment, finally placing the fish on her tongue and chewing slowly. Unable to draw his eyes from her mouth, he unapologetically watches as she savors the restaurant’s latest speciality. Eyes closed, she moans. Her hands clutch the table on either side of her, and Harry feels his mouth go dry. 

Once she devours the food, she sips her tequila on the rocks, and he can visualize her tongue swirling the liquid around as she either tries to clear the flavour of the fish or fully taste the liquor. After all, her tongue has done that same move to his most favored body part. When she finishes, she makes eye contact with him, her hands resting on either side of her plate, fingers curled. Taking a deep breath, she straightens her fingers flat without breaking eye contact. Fuck. He’s sweating. 

“Truth be told, Harry -- I desperately wanted to call you when we were both in Edinburgh that time.”

“Why didn’t you?” His words are faster than his brain, and he immediately wishes he could draw back the question. 

“You know why,” she replies, and he nods because he does indeed know all of the reasons. “The sunset --” Her attention is drawn to the colours in the sky, “is lovely, don’t you think?”

“Honestly,” he admits, “I would say this is the best one of all of the times we’ve sat here together.” The words make him cringe. He wants to keep things light, but something about the moment prevents fluff. It feels momentous. Overwhelming. 

He watches as her eyes stray from his to the sky before they tear up and she nods in agreement. “Yes, Harry. I would say this is the most breathtaking of the sunsets we’ve seen.”

Did that mean that this would be the last one? Neither of them is getting younger. Sooner or later, one of them will meet “the one”. And then where will the other be? Stuck on an island with a sunset alone? Fuck. He doesn’t want to be that person. But he truly doesn’t want that for her either. 

“It’s a sensational sunset,” Harry pleads, his eyes not leaving her face, not straying to the glorious colours, not denying that they have some chemistry together. Why hadn’t he made a play for her before now? Was a hookup enough? Would he be happy if this is the last one? 

“Harry,” she sighs, sipping her drink again. “I wonder ---” 

The band starts a new song, and he shakes off the sound, willing her to continue. A group at the table behind them sings ‘Happy Birthday’ while another table nearby bursts into laughter and somewhere a server drops a tray of glasses, the shattering drawing applause from a few assholes close to the debacle. Harry ignores all of it. 

“Yes? Go on,” he encourages. 

“Maybe…” she bites her lip, looking away from him towards the sunset. 

“Yes?” His throat is dry, but he doesn’t reach for his tequila or his glass of ice water. Instead, his gaze remains riveted on her. 

“Do you think that perhaps we could…” 

His breath catches in his throat. What would she say? Would she ask for some random sex act? Cancel their relationship permanently? Or possibly -- miraculously -- suggest that they celebrate more sunsets together instead of just once a year. He holds his breath, waiting impatiently. 

“I mean, it would probably be best if we...” 

A/N: Reblogs are love, my readers.  I appreciate the likes, but reblogs help others find the story and, quite frankly, encourage me to continue publishing here. 

[beneaththetangles]

Reader’s Corner: The Girl Without a Face, In the Land of Leadale, and Rascal Does Not Dream

Ascendance of a Bookworm: Part 3, Vol. 4

The newest volume in Miya Kazuki’s Ascendance of a Bookworm series dropped yesterday, and there’s a lot to take in this time around—from printing presses to prancing trees to turbulent politics. As the archduke’s daughter, Rozemyne is finally able to make use the printing press she had made many volumes ago, and with a visit to Illgner on the horizon, the bookworm’s horizons shine brightly. But there are dark clouds looming in the distance. And while I don’t want to spoil any details about the particulars of the book, I will say that I did not expect the stakes to rise so quickly. Still, Kazuki’s talent for illuminating the little things continues to shine. I loved the interactions between Rozemyne and Ferdinand, and I appreciated the trace details about magic; I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of both of those things in Part 4. In any case, expect to rejoice with Rozemyne as her inventions continue to prosper, and to be dragged along with her friends as she ascends to greater heights. ~ sleepminusminus

Ascendance of a Bookworm: Part 3 Vol. 4 is published by J-Novel Club.

In the Land of Leadale, Vol. 2

I felt the first volume of this isekai’d-to-a-world-based-on-a-game story was somewhat underwhelming, but I’m glad I still tried volume two because it was a lot of fun. The highlight of the story is still protagonist Cayna’s family interactions. Back when this world was a game she played on Earth, Cayna had been able to designate certain NPCs as children or other relatives. Mentally and emotionally, Cayna is still an inexperienced seventeen-year-old, but now’s she a centuries-old elf with (so far) real children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren (plus a niece). Her struggles to adapt to this reality are entertaining, as are her progeny’s efforts to keep up with their eccentric, overpowered matriarch. Another highlight of this volume is learning that Cayna isn’t the only isekai’d person in this world—there are others (including one from a world other than Earth!). I found this volume a striking improvement on its predecessor, and happily recommend it. I’m eager to see where this lighthearted adventure goes next. ~ JeskaiAngel

In the Land of Leadale (Vol. 2) is published by Yen Press, who provided a review copy.

The Girl Without a Face

This one-shot manga centers on a guy and his noppera-bou girlfriend, a youkai that looks like a human girl, except, well, without a face. The manga is basically just slice-of-life snippets of their days together. It’s 100% fluff, with no real deeper themes or major drama, just the two of them trying to find ways to show their love for each other when one of them can’t use words or facial expressions to do so. Surprisingly enough, despite how the two live together and spend basically half the book clinging to each other, the manga is completely chaste, with nothing even resembling fanservice or a sexual relationship. It’s just a lot of cuddling, hand-holding, some kisses, and a whole lot of diabetes-inducing sweetness. Look elsewhere if you want something actually serious, but sometimes you just want to indulge in some pure cuteness, and in this regard, this manga is sure to put a smile on your face. ~ stardf29

The Girl Without a Face is available from Yen Press, who provided a review copy.

Rascal Does Not Dream of Bunny Senpai (Rascal Does Not Dream Vol. 1)

Since *ahem* someone got distracted and kind of didn’t finished reading in time to contribute to the recent LNC discussion of this volume, I figured maybe I could belatedly say something here. If I had to summarize this volume, I’d say it’s The X-Files + Bottom-Tier Character Tomozaki: half paranormal mystery and half high school romcom, with a dash of sociology (especially as a related to the dynamics of a Japanese high school classroom). The real highlight of the volume is the banter between the leads, Sakuta and Mai; they have distinct voices and make great foils for each other. As an added bonus, I felt the light novel explained a few points more clearly than the anime adaptation did. The story also has some truly excellent messages, which I’ve highlighted before. Notwithstanding my lamentable failure to finish this volume in time for the Light Novel Club, I quite enjoyed it and intend to continue with the series. ~ JeskaiAngel

Rascal Does Not Dream of Bunny Girl Senpai (Rascal Does Not Dream vol. 1) is published by Yen Press.

Neon Genesis Evangelion: Campus Apocalypse, Vol. 1

One of many alternate universe takes on the Evangelion characters, Neon Genesis Evangelion: Campus Apocalypse opens with Shinji seeing two classmates from NERV Academy (Kaworu Nagisa and Rei Ayanami) chasing after some form of monster in the night. The first volume then follows Shinji as he learns from Kaworu about the creatures known as angels who take on human form by possessing corpses. The angels in this AU are, in effect, vampires. Long story short—Shinji basically joins them to become a vampire hunter with the “Eva” being an internalized weapon that he can summon at will to defend himself against the vampires: Shinji Ikari, Vampire Hunter. I’m sure there’s more depth coming in later chapters, but that’s the vibe I get from volume 1. Honestly, it’s not bad. ~ MDMRN

Neon Genesis Evangelion: Campus Apocalypse, Vol. 1 was published by Dark Horse Comics, but is currently out of print.

My Youth Romantic Comedy is Wrong, As I Expected, Vol. 3 (manga)

What’s most notable as I make my way through the manga adaptation of my favorite light novel and anime series is that the early parts of the story—in all three platforms—march toward a distinctly different direction than where it ultimately ends. The appearance of a typical love story is heavy early on, and is presented particularly well in the manga format. Naomichi Io, the mangaka behind “Comigairu,” finds his strength in adapting and sometimes creating new scenarios that focus on romance and humor. His close-ups of the characters, particularly Yukino and Yui, are stunning—if Hikki’s defenses remain strong against the girls, readers won’t be able to prevent themselves from falling in love. And this particular volume is full of panels highlighting the girls as it focuses on the romcom aspects of the series, rarely falling too far down into Hikki-talk and instead, following him through a quandary that upsets his relationship with Yui and allows him to become more intimate with Yukino. Volume three is a transitionary part of the story, but a lovely one, regardless, both for fans of Oregairu and those who simply love a good romantic comedy.

My Youth Romantic Comedy is Wrong, As I Expected, Vol. 3 is published by Yen Press, which provided a review copy.

[getofy]

as you are loved by another

genre: angst; tsukishima x gn!reader | wc: 1.2k

—a/n: hello! this is long overdue but tysm for 100 followers aaa. it means a lot that people enjoy my stupid headcanons/word-vomits. as a gift i offer you: this angsty kei fic that i wrote in the wee hours of the morning. is it good? questionable. am i happy with it? not necessarily. however, posting this seemed better than scrapping so here we are </3. enjoy!

cw: brief mentions of death/funerals; self pity/deprecation; no spoilers; one-sided pining; hurt/no comfort

—synopsis: in which tsukishima’s not sure who he hates more: your new boyfriend or himself.

edit: i made it so when tsukki refers to ur boyfriend, it’s in italics. im so sorry i forgot to do that before.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«

—Tsukishima had never considered himself to be a hateful person, and yet, here he was: laying in bed on a Friday night, thinking about you with him, and allowing levels of unprecedented envy to bubble up in his chest.

This was not how he had expected his night to turn out.

One moment, he had been doing homework at his desk, and the next, his mind was wandering to today at lunch when you giggled after receiving a text message from your insufferable boyfriend. The memory lasted for only a short moment, but it was all it took to make his head spiral. He had tried to control it, but once his brain got going, it was hard to get it to stop; eventually, he had to retire from being productive to rotting on his mattress.

Generally, Tsukishima was good at keeping sentiments such as these at bay. But it’s been getting harder to do that now, especially since you and him have been so affectionate together recently.

The cruelty of it all leaves him feeling burned by the fire of his jealousy, and a natural disaster of his own making plays out in the depths of his heart as he studies the intricacies of his bare, white ceiling. A song by some band he couldn’t bother to remember the name of emits itself loudly from his phone speakers while the middle blocker desperately tries to stop his train of toxic thinking. He rolls from his back to his side and lowers the annoying music’s volume; not even the most incredible lyrical masterpiece could pull him from the devastation the conflagration of his emotions had been causing him as of late.

And, besides, the sound was giving him a headache. He preferred to brood in silence.

The intensity of his feelings irritates him. Despite his outwardly antagonistic exterior, Tsukishima had always believed his tendency for total apathy would take precedent over any other negative emotion—including jealously.

Tonight, however, was proving this preconceived notion of his character completely wrong.

This wasn’t the first time he’d wasted his night thinking about you and him. Ever since the day you had giddily announced your new relationship, Tsukishima had been allowing himself to become more acquainted with the green-eyed monster, and this evening, he relishes in its company more than usual.

Pity parties like this—which was shaping up to be the worst one to date—had been happening to him more frequently. Feelings of contempt had become his newfound obsession in the sense that they consumed his very being. Hating him was easier than hating himself, and he enjoyed it. The only downside towards living so sullenly was that it made him realize that, more often than not, guilt was a close companion of unwarranted negativity.

Tsukishima knew better than anyone else how outrageous his feelings were. And feeling this way did trouble him, but then again, how could he not be envious?

Seeing the way his hand wrapped around your waist. Recalling the way his fingers traced little shapes into your hands. Remembering the way his eyes followed you as you walked out of the room—as if Kei’s hadn’t been the ones that did that first. It was all just too much for him to bear. Knowing that he made you happy in a way that he could not.

The overwhelming knowledge of his inadequacy makes the middle blocker want to double over in anguish, but he won’t, not yet. He is much too proud to allow himself to display such sorrow, so he’ll settle for feeling hatred tonight instead.

Of course, he knows that he’s in no position to be feeling this way. You were never his, and he had never shown interest in changing that. It was only a matter of time before someone swept you off your feet and gave you the affection he had neglected to provide you with. This whole situation was very obviously his fault. If he had been brave enough to confess before he had, maybe he’d be the one you loved instead. Or maybe not. Your new boyfriend was absolutely perfect for you, and Kei was anything but.

This was so tirelessly aggravating. Why did you have to be stupid and date somebody he could never compete with?

White-hot resentment flows through his veins, and he’s not sure if it’s directed at you, himself, or the man you love. Regardless, one more second of this suffocation, and he thinks it’s likely he’ll die by the morning time. The thought of it makes him laugh, and it temporarily lifts the burden on his heart.

Maybe his funeral would be green-themed. That wouldn’t be so bad—he quite likes the color. Or maybe his tombstone would say something like: ‘Tsukishima Kei: A son, a friend, and someone left gasping for air after being smothered to death by the tight grip of unjustifiable envy.’

Wouldn’t that be something?

Tsukishimas mind betrays the light-heartedness of the moment ruined when, bitterly, it wonders how much you’d care if his death—albeit a metaphorical one—actually did happen.

You probably wouldn’t be too concerned, especially now that you’ve got...someone who isn’t himself who would happily help to console you as you grieve. You were always gushing about how your new boyfriend was such a good listener. One kiss from that guy would probably make any pain you felt about his own fictional death go away in an instant.

Not that he would blame you. Tsukishima thought himself to be pretty forgettable. And he was anything but.

Why reminisce on the underwhelming memory of his own life when you had someone who shone so much brighter than he ever could to focus on instead?

He hates this—the way he let it get this bad. What was wrong with him? He was acting like an entitled child watching other kids play with a toy he wanted to play with. And he hated himself for it. You were a person, not a possession. And even if you were, you were still not his to have.

No, you belonged to someone infinitely better.

Someone who made you smile bigger than he ever could. Someone who made you laugh harder than he ever would. Someone who he despised—second only to himself—more than anyone else in the world.

As he rests in the still of his room, evaluating how intelligent he could possibly be after doing something as stupid as falling for one of his best friends, Tsukishima Kei decides that while he may hate your lover, he hates himself more.

A strange melancholy replaces his previous feelings of jealousy, and his typical level of self-loathing cranks it’s way up to 100. There’s a growing ache in place of where his heart should be, and Kei shakily brings his hand to clench at it. When the pain does not subside, he deduces that his current level of grief was inconsolable. Wearily, the middle blocker shuts his eyes close and allows himself to escape to the bliss of sleep.

Maybe, he’d be able to outrun the misery of loving you as you are loved by someone else in the world of dreams.

He hopes he can.

*do not repost my work without proper credit and my explicit permission.

a/n: again, i apologize for not being super active (mental illness goes hard), but i’ve been feeling better so hopefully that changes! likes + reblogs are always appreciated and feel free to give me constructive criticism (i know i need it lol). i hope you enjoyed.

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[bookswitchcraftandcats]

Rainy Days (Part 3 of 4)

Link to AO3 -----  Part 1  Part 2   

It is later than I said I would post it, I’ve been busy, Sorry!

Summary: Emma and Julian are in charge of the London Institute for a week and find a box that once belonged to Cordelia Carstairs and contains poems written to her by James Herondale. The story switches between Emma and Julian and oneshots about things that happened in Jordelia's life to inspire the poems.

Sorry if the formatting for the poems is messed up, I tried.

TW: There is demon fighting and someone gets hurt.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

“Well that one was…” Julian trails off as they both kind of laugh. They felt kind of weird reading something that was pretty personal to them. They put that poem back in the box and started to look for another when Emma’s phone buzzed. She grabbed it from the shelf she left it on. It was a text from Clary.

“Looks like we are going to New York next week,” Emma says. Jace and Clary were needed in Idris for a meeting and wanted them to run the institute while they were gone. It would only be for a few days and they loved New York anyways.

Jace and Clary had been to L.A. recently, though their vacations were far and few with the stress of running and institute. They spent the day by the ocean catching up and having fun. They also played an incredibly competitive game of volley ball and Julian and Clary worked on some painting.

“What are Jace and Clary doing?” Julian asks.

“I don’t know, something in Idris.” Jace and Clary had been going to Idris a lot lately helping to sort things out, after the cohort had been defeated there had been a lot of work to move stuff back to the shadowhunter's home country. 

Hopefully they could just have a relaxing weekend, maybe even find another old jewelry box filled with her ancestors' stuff, though that was highly unlikely. They had been trying to have a relaxing weekend for the past 6 years and were epically failing at something that seemed so easy. Cristina had even made fun of her for it because of how often she tried to take a couple days off and then got dragged back to work. She said Emma and Julian were a “magnet for trouble.”

“Maybe we can go see a show on Broadway next week,” Julian says thoughtfully, “We haven’t been on a fancy date in a while.” 

They really hadn’t been out much, Alec had them all around the world helping because they were so short on people and her and Julian had existence running an institute. They didn’t mind it really, if they did all they had to do was say the word and they would be home, but they loved to travel and explore different institutes. It gave them ideas for what they could do back in LA. 

“That sounds great,” she says. She picks up another poem titled Daisies.

Daisy

I want to take you to the green meadow, Where the sky is blue and wild flowers grow. And where there is everlasting spring and peace, So that we can escape the natures of city life.

I want to take you to were the songbirds sing, Where even the dragon finds fitful sleep. Hope flows through that warm calming breeze, Inviting us to enjoy the wonders the world has to show.

There is no one I'd rather explore it with than you, Nothing it can show me will be as extraordinary as you, And there you'll find a woven crown of white flowers, Because you are always and forever my queen, my Daisy.

Cordelia and James were out on patrol the night before their first anniversary. There had been an increase in demon activity in London with the recent stormy weather. Tonight was no exception to this weather pattern, it was raining cats and dogs while the couple wandered the streets.  

“I hate the rain,” Cordelia says, James responding with a quiet laugh. 

“Hopefully we can find this demon soon so we can go sit by a fire,” he says. 

They were tracking a demon that had been wreaking havoc in the train stations for the past week. They had almost had it yesterday but it just got away. They were now using a tracking rune and a bit of it’s blood that was spilled during the fight. It led them to an abandoned warehouse by the Thames River. 

They cautiously entered the warehouse and the door slammed shut behind them, closing off the light of the full moon and  leaving them in pitch black darkness. They could hear the rain against the metal roof, some of the water was dripping through it onto the floor. Cordelia pulled out the witchlight that Alastair had given her and it lit up the dusty building. 

“Well this is underwhelming,” James said, “for a demon layer it really lacks style.” Cordelia gave him a look and then went to explore further into the warehouse. She stepped in a puddle of black slime. 

“We need a vacation,” she says with a sigh while looking at her shoe. James nodded. 

Out of the corner of the room they could see two glowing eyes as a demon moved out from the shadows. Cordelia had a feeling it was not the only one. James pulled out a knife and hit the creature with deadly accuracy. They hear a flutter of wings and scales above. They are definitely not alone. 

Cordelia unsheathes Cortana, the bronze sword lighting up the dark room. She could see her reflection in the blade, her hair was pulled up in preparation for a battle but a few strands were coming loose and she was wearing gear. She looked at James, both of them had a determined look in their eyes. They started fighting as the demons swarmed down from above. It was all arcs of gold and light from seraph blades. Cordelia wielded her sword as though it was an extension of her own arm and James’s knives never missed their mark. 

James pulled out a seraph blade and named it Raphael. He yelled something at Cordelia but she was too focused to understand it before it was too late. The demon’s claw grabbed her shoulder as she spun and swung Cortana at it turning it to dust. 

They quickly took out the rest and were both exhausted from fighting. James noticed the cut on Cordelia’s shoulder and ran to help her as she practically collapsed into his arms.  The world went dark as she fell into James’s arms. 

When she woke up they were at the institute and she was laying on one of the beds in the infirmary. Her shoulder was bandaged and she could see multiple iratzes. She was feeling much better. She looked over and saw James reading a book next to her bed. He saw her and smiled. 

“What happened?” She asked, holding her still sore shoulder. 

“We found the demon hideout, thankfully you finished them all off,” James said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Cordelia glanced at the clock and smiled.

“It’s technically our anniversary you know.” She said, “It’s past midnight.”

“I know,” James said with a confident smirk, the door opened and his parabatai walked in. Both boys looked far too smug about whatever idea they had come up with. 

He gestured to Matthew standing by the door. 

Mathew walked back in holding a bouquet of daisies tied together with a bow. There was also a small envelope that he handed to James and then left. 

“Happy anniversary Daisy,” James said and kissed her. 

She opened the card and saw a poem written out on the left side. 

“Thank you James, happy anniversary.” Cordelia said happily and returned his kiss.

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