#I wrote this in a haze at 1am

[rsquid2]

Steven universe colony sim. You take the role of a new gem or diamond or what have you put in charge of their first colony, you pick the sites for kindergartens, decide what gems to grow in said kindergartens and assign them to build various structures a stuff.

[prettyboykatsuki]

i've been very far home, my heart | nightowl (blooming panic)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ tags; established relationship, hurt/comfort, feelings of inadequacy / low self worth, gn!reader (they wear heels and have manicured nails, but otherwise nondescript. no gendered language), role reversal, arguing / messy human behavior, suggestive towards the end, they are implied to be the same height 🫡

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ wc ; 3.7k (added 500 to wc in editing. ok)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ a/n ; bro idk what happened here FDHJDKDKJ. my sleep meds were making me feel super hungover, i got a little cooked on the devils lettuce and then wrote this?? and it wasn't bad lmaoaoa??

i really like this blonde twink ive known for three days. he is like. so extremely, hilariously my type and exactly like several ppl i've dated so this end up being a reflective piece on being a giver n navigating adult relationships.

title is from where we go by jelani aryeh

The bathroom light is on.

It’s spilling underneath the door frame when you come in from work later than usual. It’s busy season, with new clientele - all of which require socializing around drinks and expensive dinners to secure them. It’s nearly 1am, and you’ve taken two Ubers to get back home from the restaurant all the way across town that you’ve been mingling at since nine.

You closed the deal though, and your boss (perhaps seeing the visible exhaustion in your eyes) has given you the go-ahead on taking a few days off. The consulting part of your financial advising job could wait until Monday, which was a relief to hear. You came home expecting Nightowl to be up. He’s always up this late, and when he is - he rarely limits himself to one room in the apartment. You have a routine to it. You sleep in the dark bedroom and Owl tries not to make so much noise as to wake you.

You texted him you’d be late, and he’d read it but didn’t reply. Too worn down to think anything of It at the time, you slept on two car rides rather irresponsibly and were unsure of what to feel when your apartment didn’t have any lights from the outside upon arrival. Youwalked in after that, wondering if your eyes had been playing tricks. But the house was still dark, both upstairs and down stairs - in the bedroom and in the office. The only place you could find any trace of life was in the bathroom.

You’ve only left your bag on the couch downstairs. Worry makes your brows furrow as you turn the door knob to your shared bathroom and walk in. The clinical scent of bleach is the first thing to grasp your senses, jolting you awake from the haze of steam and leftover buzz of alcohol.

You cough a little, and find Nightowl on the bathroom floor. There’s a bottle of peach soju on the counter, and a few open packets of developer and mixing bowls. Owl is drunk already you think, or at the very least tipsy, moreso than you. The hot blush on his skin makes you think he’s been at it for a while. You try not to monitor his liquor intake too much, but the concern you feel is immediate and not helped by where you find him.

His body is slumped against the gray wall closes to the tub, sitting on the tile with a different bottle in his hand. His phone is face down beside him and he’s not noticed you come in. Your frown deepens as your heels click slightly on the tile. Crouching down at the knee, you reach your hand out for his forehead. His skin is so hot it’s scorching. You sober up almost instantly.

Even in his inebriated state, he seems to recognize you. His smile is wide, but you don’t feel like it reaches his eyes.

“Oh, so you decided to come home after all!”

You smile sadly followed with a curt nod. “Sorry.”

“Don’t really see what the point is in you apologizing when you’ve already been so late,” He says jovial. You try not to let it sting. You remind yourself that he’s drunk and stifle a sigh again. “But welcome home!”

“Were you gonna bleach your hair?”

“Isn’t that obvious?”

“Yeah,” You reply, choosing to sigh that time. His lip wobbles a little and you try not to say anything more. “Do you want help?”

“Sure. Whatever.”

You mumble something about being right back and Nightowl hums in affirmation. A feeling washes over you. Bone-deep exhaustion crushing your lungs and making you wheeze when you step out of the bleach-scented bathroom. When you’re distance enough away that he won’t hear you - closer to your bedroom door, you breathe in and out, calming yourself down. After you feel more centered, you open your shared room door and take a stool from along the wall, bringing it with you into the bathroom. Nightowl doesn’t turn his head to look at you until you place it. Sharing a glance with each other, he gets up on his own and sits himself on the placed stool dramatically and you give him a weak smile through the mirror he doesn’t bother returning.

You’re quiet as you leave the door open a touch to make sure the steam doesn’t overheat you both. Shrugging off your suit jacket, you fold it and hang it on the towel racks behind you. You unbutton your sleeves and roll them into neat folds on both arms, and before digging into one of your bathroom drawers for plastic gloves. Sliding them onto your manicured fingers, you pick up the bowl of developer from the side of the counter and mix it using the provided brush until it’s all smooth.

Nightowl is unusually silent through the entire thing. If he weren’t fidgeting, you could barely tell he was there. It’s so difficult to see him that way. You try not to blame yourself too much.

“Gonna start,”

“Uh-huh,”

A longing passes over you in the warm, sterile air. The coolness from the A.C. in the rest of your apartment dries down the sheen of sweat your accumulated while out socializing. Your feet are killing you and your shoulders are aching and your lungs feel like you can’t get enough air out of them. That’s busy season for you. The price of your job with all of it’s stability and benefits is the annual stretch of months where you are so busy you feel like you are drowning.

It’s one thing to be so mind-numbingly busy when you’re single and only worried about not dying. Another though to have a partner waiting for you, who you love and would like to be with - who you’ve admittedly not done well in paying attention to. You’ve tried you think. Made some attempts, but it doesn’t feel good enough and it certainly isn’t enough for Nightowl. You know that, too. You look down at where your hands are applying the bleach, dazed - using only muscle memory to apply it to the roots and strands of his hair. You want to touch him. To press kisses into his spine, drunk and elated, and press your cheek to his shoulder and confess your undying love until he’s giggly all over again.

The thought of adoration soothes you. Makes you smile to yourself even amongst the unforgiving atmosphere. Nightowl doesn’t care for that, his face growing even more frustrated.

“Thought of something fun? Glad at least one of us is having a good time.”

Your eyes meet his in the mirror. He looks away when he sees how pained you look, and you shut your eyes trying not to react. “Sorry.”

“Stop saying that,” He frowns, though he seems more sad than you.

“S—“ You clear your throat and laugh humorlessly at yourself. “Okay,”

You go about your business. Many things cross your mind but you can’t wrangle your thoughts into anything cohesive enough to say. Your jaw tightens a little, like your mouth wants to practice syllables it can’t remember. The distraction of rubbing bleach into Nightowls roots is welcome. His hair is a lot healthier than it used to be, after a year of forcing him to use hair masks. You admire as you brush through the strands, and Nightowl seems to lost in his own thoughts to say anything in protest. He probably hates this silence more than you. He’s uncharacteristically stiff, and there’s no smalltalk to distract from the surroundings.

You’re not feeling well enough to try and remedy it. Allowing yourself to stonewall and sit in the discomfort is about as much as you can do to reach a hand to your relationship. You probably can’t make it better, but you can do your best not to make it any worse.

“All done,” You mumble, just loud enough for him to hear. You slide the gloves off and toss them into the trash “We should sober up before bed. Hangover before bed sounds awful. Did you,” You hiccup. “Want some?”

He doesn’t reply to you. You press your lips into a flat line, feeling somewhat sorrowful but ultimately resigned. “I’ll make some anyway. And set a timer too while I’m down there. Just, uh - join me. When you’re done here.”

Before you turn to leave, he grabs your wrist. You’re taken aback by the sudden gesture (though there’s not force in it), turning around to look at him. His face is red. Wet tears pool on the corners of his straight, black lashes. Blinking a few times in surprise, you reach your hand to wipe them from the corners. Muscle memory. You find your love for him defined that way. He doesn’t flinch away from the touch, at least.

“Don’t you have something to say to me,” He insists. You frown in genuine confusion, a sad smile pulling at your mouth.

“Thought you told me to stop saying sorry,” You repeat with no malice, smiling a little. “That’s all I’ve got though.”

His lower lip trembles again and you try not to laugh. “God. How could you be so. God.” He sniffles a little. “You could cuss me out. Or like, I dunno, just get mad in general. You’re supposed to be mad, I was,” He cuts himself off.

You laugh a little tiredly, bending down to press your forehead to his. The flush of his skin against your own makes your heart murmur his name. “I don’t have anything to say, my heart.” You assure, smiling. “We’re both pretty tired. But I have tomorrow off. Let’s cool off and talk tomorrow. “Okay?”

“Okay,” He says back, still simmering. “As long as you’re here tomorrow.”

Your heart stings. “For the next two days, promise. I’ll toss my work phone if you want.”

He cracks a smile like that. “Might have to take you up on that, cutie.”

The familiar nickname eases you a bit, making you laugh. “Whatever you want.”

__

Morning comes unyielding and indifferent, like always.

Sunlight filters through the curtains as your eyes peel open and try to get adjusted to the light. There’s a weight on top of you, and the sound of steady breath. Another heartbeat thumps alongside yours and before you can make much sense of it - you catch the freshly yellow blond roots of your lover as he lays on your chest.

You went to bed last night not even facing each other. The image of him reaching around for you in his sleep and ending up in your arms feels like divine intervention. You admire how perfectly he fits there. Your eyes trace of his features. Thick, straight brows, skin like light gold, a straight nose and full lips. The shock of blonde suits him strangely, makes the dark lines of his other features pop. It’s rare you get to look at him so closely, even more so lately.

The intimacy of his flaws makes your stomach flutter, texture in his skin and eyebags and all. You crane your neck to kiss his hairline and think about returning to sleep in the cocoon of warmth. The cradle of soothes you, makes your eyelids heavy with sleep again. You think it’d be nice to sleep in more, but you don’t want to squander anymore time with Nightowl. Shifting, you pry yourself away from his grasp and tuck him into blankets. You’ll wake him later.

You’re quiet as you tiptoe around the house and get your affairs in order. The bathroom first to shower and brush your teeth, then downstairs to start on breakfast. You take the ritual of it to calm down and ease the leftover nerves of your stomach. It was better to save any conversation for sobriety - so you don’t regret it. Still, you feel a fear lingering. A nagging voice in the back of your head as you flip pancakes and cut fruit and pour juice.

The eerie silence of Saturday morning pushes you to reflect. It’s rare you fight like this. Even more rare that Nightowl reverts to that kind of angriness, which is why you find you can’t get upset. Not even the sound of sizzling and frying can keep your mind from wandering.

Inadequacy is familiar. An old winter jacket, too sizes too small and ill-fitting but full of your own personhood. One of the things you and Nightowl bonded over a long time ago.

You did well in school, in college, made a career for yourself. It’s making up for the rest of you, you think.

At least you’re good at your job, even if the rest of you is not worth mentioning. The ghost of feeling like you are, in some basic and intrinsic way, not good enough likes to shake you every now and again. Not friend, nor partner. It’s not something you easily get rid of, despite how far you’ve grown past it. Or around it. Or ahead of it. Wherever you’ve ended up, occasions come that knock the feeling loose from your deepest memories. You work hard to cover for it.

You like to logic your way out of the guilt when you’ve poured so much into it and people drift. A self-fulfilling prophecy. Usually that works. Tuck your emotions into neat compartments, throw yourself further into your work, don’t drink too heavily or be alone with anyone for too long. Ignore everything, do it by yourself so you’re still worth something, wait until it’s over. Eventually it all comes to pass, and you come out of the other end alive - but alone.

You can’t do that anymore though. It’s hard to remember that. Isolation is no longer the answer, because there is someone (multiple people, really) who will feel lonely without you. Even if it’s unfathomable to you, even if it’s hard to remember. The consequences creep up like this, and your left with the emotional void of making a bad situation worse. Sorry is the only word you know. There are so many things to be sorry for.

You’re so lost in thought you burn a pancake and have to toss it. You also seem to miss the presence of another person in your shared space until Nightowl comes and wraps his arms around your shoulders. Turning the heat down, you shift to face him. He looks exhausted but he must’ve come down after washing up.

“You’re awake.”

“Mhm.” He says, still sleepy. A smile pulls at the corners of your mouth. “So are you. And you’re making me breakfast.”

You laugh. “I am. So, go sit down.” And then, a little more serious. “We have a lot to talk about but I’d rather do it on a full stomach.”

“We’re in an argument and you’re still taking care of me.” Sadness bleeds into his words.

You reply without skipping a beat, going back to the stove to pour some more batter. “Well, its not like I don’t love you anymore.”

There’s a long, long pause of silence that alarms you once you recognize it. Once you hear sniffling, you whip around again to see Nightowl weeping a little as he leans against the counter. Alarms go off in your head, once again turning the stove down. You wrap your arms around his waist loosely, bending down to get a closer look at him. He’s cover his face with his hands.

“Ugh,” His voice is thick and heavy. “Can you not be so nice and perfect and angelic? I’m trying really hard to be mad at you and I’m failing like a loser.”

You can tell there’s some sincerity in his words, though you ignore the first half of his statement. “I don’t want to make you feel bad.”

He pulls away then, looks at you incredulous. “You’re so,” His hands curl at your chest as you hug him slightly. You’re confused but don’t say anything. “God, you’re so frustrating.”

“Sorry,” You say apologetically. “Don’t mean to make you cry either. Feel like I’m going that a lot. We should really eat.”

“Don’t want to,” He whines a little as he says. “Just. I want to kiss and makeup already.”

You smile a little before humming.

“We should talk about it, then.”

Nightowl just nods, and you take that as permission to just go. You do your best to get the words out.

“I really love you,” You say first, and then sigh. Nightowl clings onto you tighter and listens instead of interjecting, which must mean he’s feeling serious. “And uhm, was already feeling bad about myself. And then I got busy which made it worse cause I couldn’t really you know… be there for you, so I ended up pulling away to figure it out alone and then got even busier. Which was isolating for you, and I’m sorry for that. It’s hard to like.. I dunno. Lean on you. On anyone.” You laugh a little. “Is that too vague?”

“It makes sense to me but…what were you feeling bad about, even?”

“Well I was busy before that, so I just felt shitty about being a bad partner to you. In general, don’t feel like I deserve you but then you know,” You sigh “It was shitty of me.”

“Are you kidding me?” He says. His face is twisted in a pout. “You’re seriously being all mopey ‘cause you think you’re a bad partner when you’re like… literally the best ever? Like, that I’ve ever had?”

You’re too surprised to say anything. “Is that not why were arguing?”

“I mean,” His frown deepens, and he presses his face against your chest. “Ugh. So embarrassing. I am upset because you’re so busy and we haven’t spent time together but that’s like… totally not your fault, yknow? I’m being super clingy and I was just… really lonely yesterday.”

“Sorry for making you feel lonely.”

“Stop apologizing or I’m gonna bite you, ‘kay cutie?” He says seriously. You relent with a worrisome smile and encourage him to keep going. “I was getting like… all pathetic. Cause I thought you didn’t want me anymore, didn’t even occur to me something was wrong. I’m so sorry about that, about all of it - god. I shouldn’t have lashed out on you. I hate that it still gets so bad when we've been together so long. I just missed you so fucking much. And I think so highly of you, I couldn’t help but be all torn up about the idea that you were pulling away cause you didn’t want me.”

“I do want you. I’m just surprised you want me sometimes.”

“You’re dumb,” He whispers with no bite at all. “That’s my line. You’re like literally perfect to me.”

“So we got in a fight ‘cause we needed to be with each other,” You say with a long pause, then laugh. “How silly.”

“Guess so,” He says back with a little frown. “Are we okay?”

“We’re okay,”

You share a brief moment of comfortable, understanding silence. It feels easier to breathe. Even though it’s messy and foolish, you love being with him. It makes you feel real and whole - wanted to be missed that much.

“I missed you too by the way,” You reply with utmost sincerity. “Only thing I thought of all night was how much I wanted to hold you.”

“You’re making me blush.” He says with a loopy little smile. “Y’mean that?”

“More than anything.” You reply. “I like being with you. I like taking care of you. I like that you’re needy and jealous and temperamental.”

“Stopppp,” He groans and you laugh aloud, leaning forward to place a kiss on his jaw. “Not that I hate being told what you like about me but it’s making my tummy flutter.”

“I like loving you,” You say with some finality. “I feel really shitty when I feel like I’m failing at it because I take pride in being good at that.”

“Jeez,” His face is bright pink when you pull away. “You shouldn’t think of yourself so little, yanno? Not that this is a surprise but yesterday I was like, totally acting awful to you. I really am sorry I let it get that bad, I was just really worked up. Even right now you make me so happy, it feels a little unfair to me. I want to be with you all the time. So sometimes when I can’t I just get like… awful. And stupid. And want to throw a bunch of dumb tantrums about it.”

You nod in understanding. “It did hurt my feelings but I really didn’t feel like it was undeserved.”

“It was totally undeserved!”

You crack a little smile. “Agree to disagree?”

He grabs your face with both hands, knocking your foreheads together. “It was undeserved, no take backs. I’m sorry I hurt you and always will be. Stop being so nitpicky about yourself, kay? I’m literally crazy about you.”

“Me too,” You crane your neck to kiss his palm where it cradles your face. “I adore you, baby.”

“I like being adored by you,” He says with a sweetness that makes your heart melt. “I like loving you too of course, but attention is… nice. You know.”

He makes a face at you as you say this that you can only describe as a grin, before pushing himself forward to press a long kiss to your lips. You laugh a little into, smile splitting your face at the intensity he kisses you at first thing in the morning. Over and over, pulling and pushing - giggling as you chase his mouth as he pulls away.

“We kissed but I dunno if we’ve made up,” He says. Concern briefly passes over your expression. “Got some really good ideas about how we could do that.”

You give him a flat look but can’t contain your laughter.

“We should really eat breakfast,”

He puts a hand at the top of your waistband with lidded eyes and smiles. “There’s something else I wanna eat first though?”

You pretend to be exasperated.

“Jesus. We just made-up and you wanna fuck already?”

“Duh. That’s like, the best part,”

You snort. “We’ll go once and then I’m making you eat breakfast even if I have to force it down your throat.”

“Ooh, feeling rough I see,”

You snort. “Yeah, guess so.” You shoot him a little look, leaning into whisper and nip at his ears. “On your knees for me, baby.”

He giggles a little, giddy with mischief in his face. “Mmkay,”

He presses a cheek to your clothed thigh, lovesick. “I love you,”

You can’t help but laugh at his choice of when to say it and simply reply back in full adoration. “I love you too, my heart.”

a/n ; ANOTHER AUTHORS NOTE? sorry for being the ceo of yapping im insane

i just want to like. give some insight on this fight bc im worried it seems onesided. reader has low self esteem and really beats themself over their own expectations in everything. they isolate when they're overwhelmed and work was already doing that to them. and then things got busier, which meant there wasn't really time to repair the relationship between them which is why nightowl gets as mad as he does.

nightowl is deathly afraid of being unloved and abandoned, and he get a little caught up in his self hate that they fail to realize something is going on with their partner. so he lashes it out and it feels warranted but he gets like guilty bc reader doesn't react to the goading any differently

i think nightowl is a very complicated but incredibly familiar character. he's a little selfish but i find him incredibly endearing and i have a strong desire to dote on him and monopolize him. which was the intent for this fic. but i ended up just exploring real life relationship dynamics between a character like this. very selfless x selfish. they love each other and find fulfillment in this. i love them.

[writtenbygracewilliams]

Ignorance Is Bliss (Kanthony Oneshot)

Ignorance is bliss. Anthony Bridgerton does not have ignorance or bliss.

I did it I posted the ABO kanthony with feral Anthony that I wrote in a haze at 1am. I mixed up the ABO dynamics and did something a bit different, but felt more authentic to who Kanthony are. I’m also publicly apologising to Edwina Sharma.

Thank you to this post by @rainbow-sunshine-unicorn that kickstarted my writing frenzy last night.

It’s different to my usual writing style, much more descriptive and prose, but it was fun to branch out. Let me know what you think. I am always here for any and all bottom Anthony/top Kate requests. [Which this sort of is].

–GW xo

[strivia]

Had a Flash related dream, woke up in a haze at 1am and wrote the following notes, then promptly passed back out and forgot until a full 12 hours later when I opened my notes app and found this:

Timedust - ashes from a destroyed star labs in a different timeline, which remain after that timeline collapsed. Limited gathered resource.

Allows user to tear ways out of a broken timeline due to their very existence being anomalous.

Timeline explosive that essentially blows open rifts between timelines, especially opening ways out of contained pocket realities.

I.... What? What is this dream brain, come back and explain. 🤣 To be fair though, this is the level of explanation the show gives their fake science sometimes, ISTG

[zhimaqiu]

Somehow I decided to publish my first nsfw work. Who'd have thought that it would happen

I wrote it at 1am, excuse me any mistakes. I'll fix them if I notice them tomorrow when I realize I actually posted it

Summary: Tighnari seeks shelter from a sandstorm. Once in safety, his mind drifts towards the Traveler who managed to wrap him around her finger.

Word count: 834

Tw: I'd say none. This is very vanilla.

Ship: Tighnari x Lumine aka Tighlumi

Contains: masturbation, porn with some plot, plot with feelings

The wind was picking up. The vast sea of sand, where the wanderer find himself in, changed again right before his eyes and stirred his heart. He looked around. No trees, no stones, just dunes. He sighed under a thick mask that completely covered up his face except for a small space for the eyes. The heavy load on his back slowed him down even more than the morning heat itself. At this point, he regretted he ever decided to visit his father’s research site.

The meeting itself was a pleasant experience. They finally had the chance to spend some time together. For one it was a break from constant attention of the scholars from the Akademiya, for the other a rescue from a company consisting only of scarabs.

“Tighnari,” his father said to him before he took off in the evening. “It is best if you stay here one more day. This wind is traitorous, it may lead you astray. What seemed to be an easy path can change in an instant.”

“I know. After what happened I’m very much aware of my limits.”

His limbs were weak, sweat damping his clothes, but he kept going. Sand slipped from under his boots as he climbed a dune. A ruin. Looked like the top of a house, but one of the walls collapsed, as well as a fragment of the roof. He could swear he hasn’t seen it before, but took the exact same route as he did before. The sands must have uncovered it, he thought and hurried over to shield himself from the flying grains.

Once inside, he used a cape he wore to make a tiny tent. Safe in the corner of the building he listened to the wind howling as it caressed the walls with invisible claws. His heart slowed down as he took a sip of water. He grimaced at its saltiness, but a sigh of pleasure left his mouth as a droplet slid down his chin and traced his neck only to stop on his collarbone. That reminded him of something. A touch of a certain woman, who shared a night with him. Only one night.

“Lumine...” he whispered, closing his eyes.

One night when he was finally able to bury his face in the crook of her neck as he desperately moved his hips against her. One night when she had answered to his pleas and gave herself to him before leaving to another nation.

His hand gripped on his pants when he remembered it. Her body trembling below him as he worshipped the way a true miracle of nature should be worshiped. He felt the taste of her breasts on his tongue as he thought of lapping on her nipples and looking deep into her golden eyes. Their hazed beauty granting him a look before disappearing in ecstasy when he slid himself into her.

“Of all the times, now I...” he whispered as he looked down at the bulge in his pants.

His ears flattened as he kept thinking of her body and the way her touch made him react. Her fingers at the roots of his hair at the nape of his neck moving up to his ears. The way they had traced their shell tickling and building up his excitement. He took in a sharper breath at the memory of the pathetic whimper he let out back then, but... her chuckle. Her light chuckle and a smile that knitted his soul into whatever pattern she desired.

He started stroking himself, lightly at first. Just slow, shy movements as he felt guilty to think about her, but before he knew it, he slipped his pants down and grabbed it firmly.

Even though he tried his best to care for his skin, his hand could never make his head go blank the way hers could. Her fingers twisting around his tip as her index finger slid down the bottom of the shaft. He pumped faster as frustration washed over him.

“Just one night, why just one...”

He grit his teeth as he arched his back just so slightly. If he could just see her again, he’d show her so much more. His mind wandered as he thought to how delicious her wet folds had looked when glanced down at them wrapped around his middle and ring fingers. The urge he had felt to eat her out, to make her wrap her legs around his back, but at the time he was too desperate to feel her around his cock. It was so little. It felt like he’d wasted so much.

His breath sped up as he felt his pre-cum dripping onto his fingers. The smell intoxicated him as he sweated more and more. He stopped abruptly.

“What am I doing...” He quickly tugged it in and lied back covering his face with the inner side if his elbow. “I’m getting tired doing this. All this water I’m losing just for...”

He laughed at himself. “How careless.”

[lvllns]

for the sake of touch

the wayhaven chronicles. felix hauville x cricket langford (nb detective). ~1.4k words. pure fluff. tooth rotting fluff.

[read on ao3 instead]

“So,” Felix says as he wiggles back up against the headboard. “What are we watching tonight?”

Cricket throws a smile at him over their shoulder as they grab their laptop from their desk. They cross the room in a few quick steps, hopping onto their bed and situating themselves between Felix’s spread legs. Back to chest. His chin immediately hooks over their shoulder, hair tickling the side of their face. One of his hands wraps around their waist, the other drops to a thigh. They tilt their head, lift their chin just a little, and he chuckles. But he kisses them all the same. Short, sweet, and affectionate.

It’s been an adjustment for Cricket considering their last real boyfriend was Bobby and that...well. They try not to think about how that ended up.

Felix makes a soft sound as he presses his face against their neck. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Oh.” Cricket blinks. Drags their finger over the trackpad to wake their laptop up. “It’s called Buffy the Vampire Slayer.”

The dramatic, over the top gasp that earns them is exactly what they were hoping for.

“You trying to say something Cricket?” His nose brushes along their jaw.

“I would never.” They twist around. Plant a soft peck of a kiss to his forehead. “It’s good, I promise.”

He hums, the sound rumbles in his chest. “I trust you.”

They swallow hard. Fight down the words pulling at the back of their tongue. It still feels too soon for that admission. That realization. So they pick it up, tuck it away in a jar with a stick and some holes punched in the lid to keep it alive for later when they feel like releasing it into the world.

For now, they open up the streaming app. Shuffle back, pressing even closer into Felix. Both his arms wrap around them now. Chin on their shoulder, head tipped sideways so their temples knock together. Cricket slings one leg over one of his thighs, just because. They feel more than hear him snort, but the affectionate squeeze he gives them with his arms makes their stomach flip.

“Oh hey wait, what’s that?” Felix’s voice is soft against their ear.

“What’s what?”

“Sailor Moon?”

“Felix.”

“Can we watch that? It looks nice.”

“Can we watch…” Cricket cranes their neck around to look at him. “Felix. We can always watch Sailor Moon.”

He grins, wide and blinding. Genuinely happy. It’s a wonder, they think, how unabashedly enthusiastic he is about damn near everything.

They readjust their position. Start up the first episode of Sailor Moon, and let themselves unwind for the first time in ages. Their muscles unspool, tension bleeding from their shoulders and neck as they curl into the warmth of the man at their back.

The third episode starts playing when Felix shifts. His hand slips, just a bit. Just enough to slide under their shirt and rest on the skin of their stomach. Cricket hums. He doesn’t move, only rests his hand on their body. Like he needs to touch them without the thin barrier of their sleepshirt between them. They nestle back into him even more, making a delighted sound when his fingers curl against their skin. His index finger begins to draw slow, methodical circles near their hip. There’s nothing urgent about his touches. They’re casual. He’s touching for the sake of touching. Cricket moves a hand to rest on top of his. They lace their fingers together, squeezing gently.

Episode five starts and Felix sighs softly, breath warm against their neck.

Cricket snorts. “Bored?”

He blinks, sharp eyes looking dazed for a moment. “No, just thinking.” They make a noise of interest. Brush their thumb over the back of his hand over his knuckles. “About how nice this is.”

Their heart picks up a little bit. One of his hands flattens against their side, beneath their ribs. The other lifts to touch just below their jaw, pads of his fingers gentle over the galloping beat of their heart. Only a moment, the barest second of touches, before his hand slips to rest on their shoulder instead. They barely fight back a shiver, choosing to press into his touch instead.

“It’s very nice,” they say as they tip their head back, eyes closing. “You’re warm and comfortable.”

“Is that all I am to you Bug?” He tries to sound affronted but they can feel him grinning against their throat. “A portable heater? A pillow?”

They smile lazily, close-lipped but wide enough to pull one side of their mouth up. “Absolutely not.” Slowly, they blink their eyes open. “You’re so much more than that Felix.”

His throat clicks when he swallows. Eyes wide, grip tightening just a smidge. Cricket reaches up to rest a hand on his cheek, smooth their thumb over the sharp relief of his cheekbone.

Now.

Unscrew the lid. Set it free.

Now.

“I love you, you know,” they say, soft as a summer breeze. A faint whisper of words against the sound of Sailor Moon saying something that does not matter.

Because all that matters right now is Felix.

Felix and his stare full of wonder. All bright eyes with his mouth hanging open. He shakes his head, as if to clear something sticky and thick from his mind, and says, “I love you too,” and all the air whooshes from the room.

Cricket beams. They know they do because he answers in kind. Wide smiles, all teeth and dimples. He traces a finger over the bridge of their nose. Taps across a few freckles before dragging it down the slope of their neck to their collarbones. They fumble with the laptop, pausing the show and setting it down on the floor before turning around in his lap. They’re a few inches taller so they duck their head just a bit to brush their nose against his.

His arms wind around their waist. With a gentle tug, they move closer until their chest is smashed up against his. They drop their head even more. Press their face to his neck and inhale. A hand slips under their shirt. Fingers drift up and down their spine without any kind of direction. Lazy. Just because.

Touch for the sake of touch.

They kiss his neck. Once. Twice. Before leaning back and catching his lips with their own. He groans from deep in his chest. Soft hands smooth down Cricket’s back from shoulder blades to the base of their spine. He rests them on their lower back. Skin to skin. The heat of him is a soothing scorch against the slight chill of their warehouse bedroom. They wrap their arms around his neck, fingers tangle in his hair.

Breaking apart to breathe is such a waste but they do it anyway once their lungs start to scream. Panting, gasping for air, they press their forehead to his. His eyes are closed, eyelashes brushing his cheek.

“I love you,” they murmur the words against his parted mouth. A breath of air they pass back and forth because they cannot bear to be moved from each other. “So much Felix.”

Bright, glittering amber eyes flutter open slowly. His gaze flicks over their face, from their eyes to their flushed cheeks. He reaches up. Cups their neck and runs a thumb along their jaw. “This is...I’m not dreaming, right?” He chuckles.

Cricket leans into his touch. “You’re not.”

Felix exhales slowly. “Good. That’s...good.” He knocks his forehead against theirs. “I love you too.”

They kiss him again. Brief. Chaste. Something slow to savor. Neither of them are in a rush. This can wait, they can build what they have. Steady. A solid foundation to stand on.

“I’m totally going to tell you all the time you know.” The words are spoken against the skin of their throat, over the scars from Murphy. Felix kisses the long healed wound. “Like, all the time.”

Cricket leans back and takes his face in their hands. “I’m fine with that.”

He grins. Turns his head to kiss their palm. “I do have a question.” They lift a brow. “Can we finish that episode? It was getting good.” His eyes sparkle and they giggle.

“Of course.”

They get through two more episodes before Felix’s arms go lax around them. His head rolls to the side, knocks against their own. His breathing goes deep and even. The press of his chest against their back becomes a metronome, something they can time with certainty.

As carefully as they can, they set their laptop back on the floor. Cricket shifts a little, tries to pull away from him so they can rearrange their position, but he grumbles. Murmurs something against the junction of their neck and collarbone as his grip tightens.

“Fee,” they whisper, turning their head just a little bit. “Felix, babe. We gotta move.”

He closes his eyes tighter. “No.” His voice is slurred, sleep thick. “Stay.”

“Well, yeah.” Cricket snorts as they reach up to affectionately smooth a finger over the furrow forming between his brows. “But if you move we can lay down and sleep.”

“‘Kay.” His eyes blink open slowly. “Did I miss anything?”

They cock their head before it clicks. “On the show? Nah, nothing we can’t just watch again when you aren’t on the verge of passing out.”

They move away, crawl out of his lap and nudge his shoulder. He glares at them weakly, eyes hazy with sleep. Before they say anything, he pulls his shirt off and throws it across the room. He moves on their bed, closer to the wall, and flips so his back is facing them. Cricket takes the hint and slips beneath the blankets. Immediately Felix wiggles back against them. Molds himself to the shape of their body and seams the both of them together from shoulders to hips, legs tangling together.

Cricket kisses between his shoulder blades as they tuck their arm underneath his. They splay a hand over his chest, over the steady beat of his heart. Felix takes their hand in his own. Brings it to his lips to press a kiss to their knuckles before placing it back against his body.

“Goodnight Felix,” they whisper against the nape of his neck.

He shivers a little and squeezes their hand. “‘Night Bug.”

[pandasized-crevice]

KinnPorsche fic ideas!!!

I present some KinnPorsche fic ideas i manically wrote out at 1am

The classic tattoo artist x florist au!!!BUT Porsche is the florist & Kinn is the tattoo artist; bonus fun if Kinn is the one who actually tattoos Porsche’s phoenix tattoo!!!OH AND Porsche at first gives Kinn flower bouquets that mean fuck you(yall know that post about flower language and the fuck you bouquet right?) but as time goes on the meaning of the bouquets change…..

MR. & MRS. SMITH AU  Y A LL

WING AU love me a wing au!!! KP grooming each others wings even though thats only for close family & loved ones???HELL YEAH

KP met when they were younger but due to circumstances they lost touch BUT MEET AGAIN AT YOKS BAR AHAHA ft. symbolic matching necklaces they gave each other so its basically the spider-man meme when they clock it on each other

Yall know that reddit post where the dude thinks he’s homophobic but he’s actually in love with his roommate? Porsche & Kinn come ON

Porsche works at this fancy restaurant bar where mafia boss Kinn goes for business meetings, porsche stops kinn from getting poisoned(drug in drink me thinks) and kinn(who already had a crush on the hot charming bartender who serves him the best drinks) falls harder

Porsche somehow ends up working for Vegas instead of Kinn and now Kinn must sit in lust every time the families meet because why is his cousin's bodyguard so hot?

Porsche meets Tankhun first & they become besties; porsche is giving my best friends brother by miss victoria justice

Magic mike-esque dancer!Porsche & mafia boss king!Kinn

Gardner/lawn worker!Porsche ft. Kinn staring lustfully from the windows & Kinn sitting by the pool to “read” aka to watch a shirtless porsche cut the grass

Porsche saves Kim and becomes his bodyguard instead; basically porsche becomes the watson to our kimlock holmes

University au! How could I forget!! Yall know those hazing things they do in bl? the specific activities they do?can yall imagine Porsche having to do the chicken dance to get kinn to sign his little book?

Mermaid au mermaid au MERMAID AU MY BELOVED so many possibilities with a mermaid au!!!!!!!!!

Maleficent-esque au with porsche as maleficent and porchay as aurora: porsche's uncle betrays porsche & cuts off his wings to give to the king(the king being vegas dad), porsche is like fuck yall fr & puts up the thorn wall to keep not only his brother but all the magical folk safe. But guess what little shithead mamages to get in?(tis prince kim!){the second & main fams are different kingdoms} Kinn goes looking for him,KP met,and idk plot happens...

Mamma mia au porchay invites porsche ex’s:kinn,vegas,pete to his birthday party

Zombie apocalypse au KP are separated and have to find each other again/ are strangers who join forces to stay alive & fall in love in the process

CORPSE BRIDE-ESQUE AU!!!!!Kinn as Emily(killed by his ex tawan ofc), Porsche as victor. Porsche is engaged to slimeball Vegas cuz his uncle owes them & he uses porsche to pay the debt. While in the forest Porsche rants about how he doesn’t wanna marry Vegas,he gets sad(he wants to marry for love),recites the vows his parents had for each other and places a ring on a “tree branch”. TIS KINN YUH hence Kinn taking porsche. {Spoiler alert: the rest of the theerpakyal fam is dead,vegas and his father killed them once kinn was killed}

All the theerapanyakul siblings have tigers (don’t question why they just do) and Kinns tiger adores Porsche to the point of physically harming Kinn/others if they do anything to Porsche. Not to mention,after they get over the incident of Porsche stepping on their tails and bonking them on the heads(he was scared guys you’d be to if you saw 2 fucking tigers outta no where),Tankhuns tigers,elizabeth & sebastian of course, like porsche too so most of the time you’ll see Porsche walk by with his trio of kitties

When Tankhun is kidnapped he manages to get away but passes out due to his injuries (amnesia anyone?)Our lovely parchara kittisawasd brothers find him and are like “neat a new brother!” but seriously tankhun gets the love he deserves 

If anyone wants to use any of these please go for it, i beg of you. if a fic is birthed PLEASE tag me i'd love to see it👀

[thetruecthulhu9]

Oooh! And you def need to elaborate on I can shape shift. Why wouldn’t I??

I hate this one, dont like it at all, could be because i wrote the dogs share at 1am.

“Look,” frank ground out, “ i can shapeshift, so tell me, pontifex grace, why exactly shouldn’t i?” Frank had been quite happy, until five minuets ago, sitting around hazle’s shoulders in the form of a tonkineese cat. It was quite comfortable up there when he took such a small form and his girlfriend’s hair was delightful shelter from the elements, especially when it was just the light rain they were passing through. A delightful relaxing time that had just been completely and utterly demolished by what could barely qualify as a new recruit.

The sad thing was it wasn’t even a kid, frank and hazel had already started flushing out the younger recruits, so he didnt have age to excuse his ignorance when he walked up to hazel without realising they were a pair. The fool tried to intimidate his girlfriend and co-leader into giving him status, taking him off probatio without a single score of allegiance. Hazel was completely at ease with the scene though, so although still glaring, frank sat in place to offer support. That was until he tried to grab her, which is how he got here.

“Because you’re using it to start fights frank! You cant-“

“Preator”

“What?”

“Its preator zhang to you pontifex, if this is how you are going to react to a legionnaire attempting to assault their preator.” Frank responded, features stone cold.

Jason took a breath looking skywards before turning to hazel for help, only to see her sat on the back of said legionnaire, who was acting as her bench, with one hand sat loosely on the pommel of her gladius, its tip resting on her victim’s hand, on the edge of breaking skin. She raised a brow and snorted, before speaking over the unasked question, “really grace, i have to wonder how Reyna was treated while you stood by and watched. Id wonder if young men were even taught how to treat a lady these days if it weren’t for frank and percy.” The mocking admonishment was abundantly clear to the son of Jupiter even through his cousin’s ceramic smile, so he turned back to frank.

‘If you had been in your human form they wouldnt even try in the first place. If you were just normal you could protect her like you want to”

“I do adore the implication that i cant be comfortable in any body other than one you can see yourself in. And the assumption that this is how you can talk to your superiors! It’s hilarious grace! You are a joke. And why would preator levesque need my protection in the first place? She is fully capable of protecting herself. Or do you not believe that is true grace?” As if to punctuate his statement, the legionnaire attempted to buck his captor, aiming for an easy escape. In response hazel pressed down on her pommel with enough force to drive the blade clean through the man’s hand and into the concrete below, tutting the whole way.

“The reality is, pontifex, this should have never happened, and the fact that you allowed it to flourish under your command to the point that it is not even considered noteworthy enough to report to the senate is disturbing.”

“That’s not fair frank-“

“Preator zhang”

“-preator zhang. I was paired with Reyna for a portion of my time”

“And you think she would condone any of the behaviour shown today? No. Now you, pontifex, will leave to attend to your duties while we deal with a case of insubordination, then i will enter whatever form suits my whims and will be on my way. Off you trot now.” Frank finished, waving the blond off easily.

It was silent for a moment, the only noice the whimpering of an idiot who thought he had power, before hazel broke it, “you know that was hot right?”

Frank blushed and broke out in a grin, “thanks haze, i was just embracing my inner annabeth really”

“Huh, i guess that makes me percy then”

“Getting shit sorted and looking pretty doing it? you definitely fit the bill” frank flirted, before folding into a tiny capybara. Hazel threw her head back and cackled, before picking up the small mammal and hugging it to her chest and walking away.

[dearmrsawyer]

It’s been weeks but i still cannot stop thinking about this so here have ~1k of Nouis immediately after the release of the Observer Magazine interview. 

Louis has his foot kicked up on the coffee table, mindful of his cuppa, as he watches Freddie choose selectively between his coloured blocks. He favours green today, stacking them tall enough that he looks at Louis with pride before swiping a hand through them, sending them toppling gleefully across the carpet.

Clifford is watching warily from his bed in the corner, ears perking up every time the blocks take a tumble. 

Louis grins as Freddie holds out one particular block that his dad simply must inspect, and is about to give it a good once-over when the doorbell rings. 

Louis’ eyes go to the clock above the TV, heart sinking slightly at the thought that Briana is already here for Freddie. But it’s barely two yet and he’s got a few more hours until she’s due to pick him up. 

“I’ll just be a tic, Freds,” Louis murmurs, hand smoothing down the back of Freddie’s head. His hair’s really coming in now, soft as sunshine. 

Louis can’t see a silhouette in the panes of glass beside the door. The visitor must be standing right on his doormat. He would be wary, but he knows whoever it is obviously has the code for his gate.

The door’s barely open before a body comes barrelling through it, charging into Louis and wrapping him up tight. The wind’s knocked clean out of his lungs and his arms hang in mid air. Even after a year, it still takes him a moment to recognise Niall without his sunny head. He’s seen his regularly enough, watched it grow out until it was just the blond tips he started with, and then it was gone altogether. Even now, Louis recognises Niall’s smell before anything else.

He always smells so clean, fresh like he can cleanse Louis’ life of any impurities just by being here.

“Alright, lad?” Louis says, hands finally coming to rest on Niall’s back.

Niall is gripping him so tight, head tucked up right against Louis’, stubble scratching at his neck.

“You idiot,” he hisses just behind Louis’ ear. 

“Seems uncalled for,” Louis muses, hands clutching loosely at Niall’s shirt.

“You right knucklehead.” 

Louis answers with an affronted scoff, trying to pull back to level Niall with his best arched brow, but Niall doesn’t let him. He sounds fierce, like there’s a fire in his belly driving him. His hands are clamped around Louis so tight he can feel the press of Niall’s fingertips through his tee. 

“How could you say that stuff about yourself?”

Louis’ stomach slips down a rung as he realises.

“So you read it, then?” he jokes weakly, slumping a little under Niall’s grips. But Niall just seems to envelop him further, clutch him tighter.

“How could you say all that stuff about us, and then talk about yourself like that?”

“Niall-”

“Like you’re nothing. Just... filler.”

Louis is acutely aware that his front door is wide open and while the gate to his property is imposing, it doesn’t completely obscure the view.

“You held us all together. You’re the reason we made it,” Niall says. His voice is coloured the same shade as when he describes what his astronaut pals go through in zero gravity. Like what he’s saying is a wonder to the human experience. Louis swallows.

“How many times did you make sure we were taken care of over the years? Made sure we were heard or protected or that we didn’t miss a moment that we’d want to remember. Or when you’d lose your mic being a right fool on stage, and the rest of us scrambled until you got it back. We sounded empty without you, Lou, always did. Always felt it.”

“I-” He’s not sure what to say, lets his chin rest atop Niall’s shoulder. “I’ve got Freddie in the lounge.”

It’s all he can think of, the only string of words he can put together. The tension in Niall’s body is slowly easing as the seconds pass, and Louis feels him sigh against his chest. 

“You just...” Niall starts, but he just sighs again.

His fingers lose their grip, sliding down the length of Louis’ shoulder blades until they rest at the dip of his waist. Louis’ arms are still trapped beneath them, wrapped lightly around Niall.

Niall tips his head to the side so his cheek is pressed into Louis’ shoulder, facing out, and because he isn’t quite sure of what else to do, Louis lets his head rest against Niall’s. 

“It’s all very dramatic, this,” he says, and Niall’s fingers tense for just a second before the fight seems to slip out of him again.

“Just don’t like it when you act like you weren’t everything to us. And the fans.” His breath is warm even through the fabric of Louis’ tee. Warm, steady puffs. “To me.”

Louis feels every reflex inside him twitch with the need to make a joke, even as his throat tightens. He likes to answer gentle words with raucous ones when they’re about him. It’s easier to direct the conversation in a way he can control. But there’s always been something about Niall, something that renders his soft. Something he couldn’t bounce off of when his heart was involved. 

“Thanks, Nialler,” he says quietly. Niall rests along the front of his body, completely at ease now that he’s said his peace and Louis’ accepted it. They rock gently, and Louis’ head flashes back to a stage - one of their last - surrounded by thousands of fans so close to his home when Niall had pulled him close enough to feel his pounding heart, hand warm against the back of Louis’ head. 

“Think we’ve put on enough of a show for the neighbours, yeah?” Louis says, and Niall shifts, his cheek sliding over Louis’ shoulder so he can look back. He laughs when he sees the door sitting open, and finally pulls away. Air rushes in around Louis and he feels cold. 

“Suppose they’ve seen enough,” Niall agrees, and shuts the door himself. 

Louis stands a little awkwardly, hands clasped before Niall turns back. He tosses a thumb over his shoulder and asks, “Wanna see the kid?”

“‘Course, can’t have him forgetting his favourite uncle.”

“Definitely not,” Louis nods, leading the way in his socked feet back towards the lounge room.

Freddie doesn’t seem to have been troubled by Louis’ extended absence. He’s got his green blocks back in a tower and has moved onto yellow. 

“How’s the little lad?” Niall booms the second he comes around the corner. 

Freddie still turns bodily whenever he moves his head, twisting his little torso around to face Niall. He instantly grins so wide, it’s a perfect reflection of Louis whenever Niall enters a room. Maybe its genetic, Louis thinks with a grin of his own. 

[jaigeye]

1 & 14 💓💓💓

fanfic end of the year asks!

favorite fic you wrote this year:

signs for people who understand was probably my very favorite! i've always thought that boba was such a compelling character and, i know, star wars is already so dense with 'reluctant father figure takes in child' plotlines, but... in the og mando concept art there was this piece that depicted boba heaving a teenage girl up off the back of some alien creature, pursued by bounty hunters, and it just stuck with me.

i got totally obsessed w the idea of boba being a dad figure lol. to me it would be really fulfilling to his narrative-- sort of coming full circle, being able to acknowledge why his father wanted him, and being, ultimately, better than he was. in attachment with this i always felt bummed that finn didn't get his mentor moment with someone like luke or leia, and it kind of dawned on me that boba and finn could, theoretically, have a very compelling relationship. this was an extremely long way of saying yes i like this one a lot

a fic you didn’t expect to write:

how to decay gracefully - my epistolary story about other people's memories and perspectives of padme amidala - wasn't planned at all. this is abnormal bc i tend to obsess and rave about the fics i plan to write for like six months before LMAO but this one just kind of... popped up.. mysteriously... it was like 1am and i kept listening to working for the knife by mitski on repeat and i literally just wrote it in a haze. it's one of my favs now though<3

[obibabykenobi]

could you possibly do 37 & 44 on the prompt list for Alex Law or Obi Wan? love your writing!

omg yes!!! thank you for the compliment, that means so much 🥺 and thank you for being my first ask on this blog! i decided to do baby obi, because I don’t know the Alex Law character very well

☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎

————tensions

𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚋𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚗 𝚔𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚋𝚒 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝

37; “Let’s take a bet on how many times I can make you cum.” & 44; “Spread your legs.” from the smut prompt list

warnings: v smutty 😳 dom!obi, choking!kink, praise!kink, padawan!kink (reader is not a padawan- just a fellow Jedi)

summary: you and Obi finally satisfy your needs

sorry if this seems very rushed, i wrote this at 1am while being v tired haha

taglist: @scarletsoldierrr @stephhopexo

The sexual tension between you and Obi Wan Kenobi was growing by the minute. He was teasing you, testing your limits to see how far you’d go until you snapped. He knew what he was doing.

He knew what he was doing when he sat down in that chair in the briefing room, legs spread. They looked so inviting, you just wanted to straddle him and take him right then and there. However, two could play at that game. You know he likes it when you lick your peachy lips, it gives him sinister ideas he should have never thought of.

He stared you down in the briefing, watching as you spoke to Master Windu and would occasionally lick your lips, or bite them. He was aching to feel them somewhere. When it was his turn to talk, you looked at him with lust pooling your irises.

“The floor is yours, Master Kenobi.” You made sure the draw out the master and put emphasis in it. You watched as his hands gripped the arm rests and he cleared his throat.

——————————————————————————

After the meeting, both of you quickly booked it to his chambers. All the teasing, the glances, the eye fucking, it was coming too much to bare. You needed each other now.

As soon as his door shut, you were on each other in no time. Finally, you thought. Your skin was aching to feel his touch on you. Robes were being thrown every which way, until you were just in panties. He pushed you down his bed, you two breathing heavily. He hovered over you, and pinned your hands up above your head.

“Let’s make this fun. Let’s take a bet on how many times I can make you cum.”

Your brow quirked up at him and you huffed.

“Fine. I bet three times max.”

He smirked and started kissing your jawline, down to your neck and nipping it.

“Darling, you underestimate me.”

He immediately got to work on your breast, sucking one nipple into his mouth while the other one was being tweaked by his hand. You let out soft mewls. Your cunt was aching to be touched, to be taken care of. He continued working magic on your tits until you felt his fingers trickle their way down to your waist band. Your breath hitched, just seconds away from feeling euphoria. His fingers inched their way into your panties, and he ghosted over the nub. You were breathing heavily, gripping onto him. He was so close.

His fingers slid their way up your folds and you let out a moan of relief. Your eyes shuttered closed, as he watched your face unfold into many reactions. He couldn’t believe his fingers alone were doing this to you. His middle finger gently circled your nub, your hips bucked up into his hand. He adored the way your eyes looked into his, still sparkling with innocence. He groaned as he entered two fingers into your, feeling you clench around them.

“You’re so perfectly wet for me, my dearest.”

Your heart swelled at the compliment, which made you instantly clench around him again. He took note to keep praising you. He started to pick up the pace, making ‘come hither’ motions with his fingers. You held onto him so tight, your hips matching the rhythm of his fingers. Your breathing was becoming heavier and your moans were delighting his ears. He was hitting your spot, and with a couple more soft strokes against that spot, you came around his fingers with a loud moan. He slowly took his fingers out of you, and you watched through half-lidded eyes as he brought his fingers up to his mouth and sucked off the juice. He groaned at the taste and a look flashed in his eyes. You knew immediately what he wanted next.

You instinctively closed your legs, knowing you were still sensitive. He growled at your actions.

“Spread your legs.”

You didn’t cave in. However, the tone in his voice made your cunt throb and he knew it. He let out a big, long sigh, and with a flick of his hand, your legs were spread with the force. His face hovered over your sensitive area, and he started kissing your thighs.

“We have a bet, darling. I need to best you. You can’t blame me, can you?”

He looked up at you with ocean eyes swirling with hunger. His breath was sending alarms throughout your body as it was hitting your nub. He kissed your nub through the panties, causing you to gasp. He gently pulled your panties off, tossed them somewhere in the room. He stared at your glistening cunt, and then without warning, licked a long strip up your cunt. You drew out a long moan and immediately grabbed his strawberry blonde hair. His tongue was magic, swirling and lapping. He sucked on your most sensitive area, causing you to buck your hips into his mouth. He started to fuck you with his tongue, his nose hitting your nub every once and while and that instinctively made you rub up against it. You pulled on his hair a little hard, causing him to groan against you. Your legs were trembling, your stomach tightened. He had you right where he wanted you. He sucked harder on your clit, and with that you came once again on his tongue. He lapped up the extra juice and groaned as he left your cunt.

“You taste so good, young one.”

You were so sweaty underneath him, you just smelt of sex and he loved how fucked out you looked, and he wasn’t even done with you yet. He snaked his body up yours and gave you a loving kiss. He let the force let go of your thighs and he heard them collapse onto the bed with a soft little thud. His cock was aching to be let out, to be burried inside you. You watched as he slid his pants off, his cock sprang up with precum leaking. You wanted to touch it so bad, but you were to exhausted to move your limbs yet. He looked at you with eyebrows furrowed, as his hand gripped his cock tightly and he let out a gutteral moan. He was staring at your pussy while pumping himself. Watching him like this, sweat glistening on his chest, beautiful sounds coming from his mouth, made you turned on once again.

“Master Kenobi, please, fuck me.”

His jaw clenched watching you speak such filthy words, especially after calling him Master. Your legs came up to wrap around his waist and bring him closer to you. You could feel his cock hitting your stomach and you moaned at the feeling. He looked at you straight in the eyes as he entered himself into you. Your mouth fell agape as he filled you up nice and good. He let out a shaky moan, clenching the sheets next your head.

“Maker, fuck- you feel so good, Padawan.”

You clenched harder around him and wrapped your arms around his neck. His burried his head in your neck and then started rocking back and forth. His hips were working wonders against you, while you pulled the back of his hair and let out squeals. He growled into your neck and lifted his head to look at your face. Your face was contorted into so many emotions, your mouth spilling beautiful moans. Your head snapped back as soon as he hit your spot, making your eyes roll back. He slid his hand up to your neck and gently squeezed, which caused you to moan so loud. He thought his hand looked so good wrapped around your neck.

“You take me so fucking good, Padawan. Look at you, singing for me.”

You were letting out incoherent mumbles as he kept hitting you right in the spot.

“P-please don’t stop Master, Stars- you fill me up so good.” You moaned out, causing him to ram into you harder. The sound of skin slapping and moans filled the room, you felt the familiar knot in your stomach. The way you were clenching around him told him you were close, so he went faster, praising you more and slightly squeezing your throat to give you the best orgasm you have ever experienced. With a loud moan, you came undone around his cock.

“I-in me..! Cum in me, please- it’ll be fine, p-please Master I-I need to feel it..”

His nose flared at your begging, and with a snap of his hips, he came inside you and filled you up with his seed. He let out a quiet curse, slowly pulled out and collapsed right beside you. Heavy breathing and the smell of sex was in the room. He closed his eyes, satisfied with his work. But something was still nagging in his mind.

“Obi?”

He turned his head over to look at you, with a fucked out haze in his eyes.

“That was only three orgasms, I won the bet.”

He laughed at your words. You two were very competitive, but you were always a lot more than he was. You felt the bed shift and next thing you know you were flushed against him again.

“The night’s not over yet, darling.”

[maih-em]

fic writer tag

Thanks to @ladyaj-13 for tagging me!

AO3 Name: wherehefoundtheporcupine

Fandoms: predominantly Endeavour. (I haven’t written any non-endeavour content for like a year and don’t really plan to stop.) In the past though I’ve written Dirk Gently’s holistic detective agency and I have abandoned ones for doctor who, good omens and marvel that I don’t think i’ll ever finish. I also had a doctor who and a harry potter one on wattpad when i was 12 but i’ve repressed that.

Number of Fics: 6 (on a03, at least)

Fic I spent the most time on: ‘spinning on that dizzy edge’, mostly because I’ve taken ALMOST A YEAR TO WRITE THE SECOND CHAPTER. I have no excuse not to write the last two scenes but I KEEP GETTING STUCK.

Fic I spent the least time on: ‘but I want it (it’s a crime)’ because it’s pretty short and I wrote each chapter in a weird 2am haze.

Longest fic: currently ‘I’m not falling for you (I already did)’ (almost 14k, probably about 17-18k once the last chapter’s done). But ‘spinning on that dizzy edge’ will be about 21k once finished.

Shortest fic: I forget that i have non-endeavour fics on A03 but it would be my dirk gently one ‘in which dirk is oblivious and tina saves the day’

Most hits: ‘a study in unwanted touches’ which is at 1176, because it’s my oldest one

Most kudos: ‘a study in unwanted touches’ again with 150

Total Word Count: 38846

Favourite Fic I Wrote: this is so hard - probably ‘but I want it (it’s a crime)’ because I wrote it in such a different way to my other stuff and i just Like It.

Fic You Want To Rewrite/Expand On: I don’t really know how to answer this?? I’m always making little tweaks to stuff I’ve already posted because I sometimes read my own fics and come across sentences that I suddenly despise and have an accidental editing session. But I don’t think I’d ever care/dislike something enough to rewrite it?? I guess my old dirk gently ones would warrant a heavy edit because my writing has changed so much in 2 years that I’m sure they’d make me cringe to read, but I’d only do that if I was incredibly bored and it was 1am and I could bear to read them in the first place.

Share a Bit of a WIP or story idea you are planning on: I’m literally working on like 6 WIPs but here’s a snippet of a magic one I’m working on:

 The man sighed bitterly. “I’ve been patient enough, don’t you think? How much fucking longer do I have to wait?”

Though nobody was around to see it, an unmistakable glow surrounded the man’s body; orange, autumn evening sky, but when you looked at it for too long, white-hot embers emerged and grew brighter until you could scarcely look at it.

Someone who didn’t know better would call it a trick of the light.

also i have this idea for a cowley group team building camping trip crack fic kinda thing which i thought of recently. Like a combination of some of the squad training things they do in brooklyn 99 and the trauma of doing my bronze Duke of Edinburgh's award

don’t know whos already been tagged but @imaginationtherapy and @parvasilvi and anyone else who wants to have a go

[junghelioseok]

Not sure if ur taking req.This came to me as I read catharsis, I loved their friendship.Ur hired as a choreographer for the group, & ur in Korea on a work visa.JK just gets you like no one else does. You are bff, then it turns romantic.U keep ur relationship secret, & when U travel with the group he always sneaks to ur hotel room. He wants to take the relationship public, but u know the company will fire you, & you need your work visa to stay in Korea (to stay with JK). happy ending please. 😊

so i don’t take requests, sorry! however i have also been thinking about this idea nonstop since i got it so! i’m gonna not ignore it for once and lay out exactly what i would do if i did write it (which i refuse to actually do bc more jk ideas is the absolute last thing i need, lolol).

that being said, if any of my writer friends want to take this on, please do so!!! and tag me in the finished fic bc i would read the hell out of this shit. i fucking love this idea and i need it to come to fruition one way or another. (but like, obviously you should take it in whatever direction you see fit. please don’t feel the need to follow my outline, lmao.)

anyway, without further ado, here is my abbreviated version of this, ft. the frankly absurd, stream-of-consciousness way i plan every fic i write, ahaha. 

let’s get it!!!

you weren’t ready

you weren’t ready when the email from bighit came, asking for your help choreographing the dances for love yourself: answer

(you thought it was a joke, tbh)

you weren’t ready to get a korean work visa on such short notice

and you definitely weren’t ready to actually live and work in a different country

two years of college-level korean and a month’s worth of nightly cram classes couldn’t have prepared you for life in seoul

and no amount of researching bts - whether that was binging music videos or going over every dance practice vid or repeatedly listening to the albums - could have prepared you for your first meeting with the boys

tbh you kinda thought they’d be jerks, being so wildly popular and whatnot

but you couldn’t have been more wrong

one month into your time at bighit, and you finally understand the undying adoration army has for the boys

they’re just seven big soft nerds in stupidly handsome bodies

you’ve been subjected to hundreds of dad jokes, courtesy of seokjin, and plenty of clingy hugs from jimin

you’ve grown to love hobi’s screaming laughter and yoongi’s quiet grumpiness

but no matter how well you get along with all of the boys, nothing compares to your budding friendship with jeon jungkook

admittedly it’d taken a while for him to get comfortable enough to speak to you directly, especially when namjoon isn’t around to act as a translator

and likewise, it took a while for you to become accustomed to speaking korean every day

but once you both get past the language barrier, it’s like you’ve known each other your entire lives

you bond over your mutual love of dancing, of music and flow and rhythm

and watching him dance is a dream

every move is the perfect mix of grace and power, and he’s a joy to teach choreo to

hardworking and perseverant and more than a little bit of a perfectionist

but so are you, and that just means that you spend plenty of late nights in the studio together

working through the bits of choreography that just aren’t clicking yet

prepping for the upcoming ly tour

helping him with the choreography for euphoria

you were shocked when he approached you about his solo stage instead of sungdeuk, but you can’t say you weren’t pleased that he trusts you

and the first time you heard him open his mouth and sing euphoria in person, you were blown away

after that, you spend even more time together in the studio, long after the other boys and sungdeuk have left

late night after late night, dancing and laughing and ordering takeout at 1am when you’re both starving and need a break

one night you’re both hanging out in golden closet, snacking on ice cream and fried food you know you’ll regret later, listening to the setlist and talking big picture stuff for the ly tour 

and jungkook suddenly pauses the music and pulls up a new, different audio file

“um, i’ve been working on something and i was wondering if you wanted to listen to it?”

surprise, it’s his mixtape

it’s a work in progress - just a short collection of songs and a few random snippets that he admits he’s been working on for almost a year now

but every single one is so heart-wrenchingly lovely and emotional

your eyes may or may not well up a little during the last song - a soft, sentimental ballad that has you longing for something you didn’t know was missing in your life

“jungkook… this is beautiful”

“… i wrote it for you”

“…”

what are you gonna do, not kiss him?

lmao unlikely!

so you kiss him. a lot.

and then you do a lot more than that

you end up straddling him in his chair, your knees on either side of his thighs as his hands curl around your waist and find their way under the hem of your shirt

it’s sweaty and hurried and he tastes like the strawberry ice cream that he was just eating but it’s perfect nonetheless

afterward you are both in a happy haze, your head leaning on his shoulder as he strokes your back fondly

but then reality comes crashing back down

“jungkook, oh my god, we can’t do this!”

“but noona”

“but nothing! i’m only here temporarily, and if word gets out that we’re dating i’ll be fired!”

it’s so hard to tear your gaze from those pretty doe eyes when they’re staring up at you so beseechingly, but somehow you find the strength to wrench away from him and out of golden closet

you can still hear him calling for you as you run away, but you don’t turn back and he doesn’t chase you

needless to say, things are a little awkward from that point forward

you still see him every day at rehearsals

but you stop having one-on-one sessions with him late at night and tell yourself that it’s for the best

the other boys aren’t dumb; they notice that something is amiss straight away

but they don’t press too hard and you’re grateful for that

just days later, the international part of the ly tour starts and you are all jetting off to north america

by that point, it’s been almost a week and a half since you’ve spoken more than two sentences to jungkook

and you have no intention of changing that anytime soon

you can feel his eyes boring into you on the plane and in the car on the way to the hotel

but you escape to your hotel room and don’t see him again until dress rehearsal later that night

they’re running through the setlist, and you can’t help but admire how he looks in casual clothes

no one else could pull off a matching gray puma tracksuit, tbh

but he can, and he’s got the sleeves of his gray sweatshirt rolled up to his elbows to expose the rolex on his wrist

and his sweatpants are juuuust tight enough to show off the definition of his thighs

but! you’re a professional, and you can’t be looking at him with anything more than a critical eye so that’s what you do

even when he keeps glancing your way during euphoria

and stares right into your eyes as he nails the high note

afterward, you go onstage to give the boys your notes

you have a lot to say to hobi about just dance, and you can just feel jungkook’s hot gaze lingering on you the entire time

and then…

(thanks a lot for this shit, @puellaigmotum istg i have fucking nightmares about this bit of dialogue and it’s 10000% your fault)

… he corners you backstage

“noona, why are you paying so much attention to hobi-hyung… when i’m right here and ready to be on my knees for you”

he’s so close you can’t even fucking breathe by this point, his lips right at your ear and ruffling your hair with every word he speaks

when he begins kissing a trail along your jawline you finally regain control of your lungs 

and all you can manage is a shaky “jungkook, not here”

and you press the second copy of your hotel key into his hand

he comes over that night, of course

(and just like he promised, he does end up on his knees)

(head nestled between your thighs, one of your legs thrown over his shoulder to keep you spread open for him)

but a n y w a y

when you wake up in the morning, jarred awake by your alarm at far too early an hour, he is curled around you with one arm draped over your waist

he’s bleary and a little dazed and has the cutest bedhead you’ve ever seen

but when he sees you still in bed with him, his entire face splits into the brightest bunny smile

he pulls you in for a kiss and you could happily spend the rest of your life tucked away under the blankets there with him

but he’s got a concert to get ready for and both of you know it

the last rehearsal before the concert goes off without a hitch, and if anyone notices how you and jungkook are on good terms again, no one says anything about it

the concert is incredible. the boys smash it.

you are beaming when jungkook comes off the stage after his solo, ready with a bottle of water and a towel and plenty of congratulatory words

he beams right back, scooping you off your feet and twirling you in a full circle before putting you back down again

(his stylists are a little dismayed by the rumpled state of his clothes, but they can’t say much when namjoon destroys everyone’s outfits daily. they’re used to it.)

besides, all the staff can see just how happy he is around you

afterward, you all go out for a celebratory dinner, toasting to a successful tour kickoff

jungkook sits beside you and cracks inane jokes the entire time, and you spend the entire evening laughing your ass off with him

naturally, he finds his way back to your hotel room that night

and pretty much every night after, from la to hamilton to london

you’re in berlin when he first broaches the topic of taking your relationship public

“jungkook, we can’t! i’ll be fired!”

“no you won’t”

“how can you be so sure?”

“i’m negotiating my contract renewal right now, and i’m making sure that nothing prohibits me from dating. i want to be with you, noona.”

“but jungkook…”

“don’t you want to be with me?”

“yes, of course i do-”

“then that’s all that really matters, isn’t it?”

he kisses you before you can speak again, and all your protests and arguments fly out of your head the moment his lips meet yours

the very next morning you agree to gradually make your relationship public, first to the other boys and then bang pd and the rest of the bighit staff

(most of them already knew though)

everyone’s happy for you, even the company higher-ups, because it’s so easy to see how happy jungkook is these days

(and like, lowkey, sungdeuk has already decided to spoil rotten any kids you may have in the future)

but no one is happier than you and jungkook

as soon as the tour ends, you extend your visa so that you can stay in korea longer with him

jungkook is yours and you are his, and life is good ♡

[gwilymay]

beer bottle blues ➳ (one-sided Brian May x OC)

❅ a "spin the bottle" au of @benhaardy 's "pretty girl" fic - Iris is not my OC!

warnings: one or two instances of swearing, suggestive language, smoking and drinking (lol idk)

word count: 1.7k

A/N: I was reading my old fics trying to get ideas and I as I read the last thing I wrote about a year ago, it reminded me a lot of my friend's (tagged above) fic. so to start out writing again, I decided to kinda rewrite the older fic into this newer one as an au of her fic. I mostly wrote this at 1am and I barely edited - enjoy, hopefully it doesn't suck too bad... the title is already bad lmaooo

also, if you don't know who the oc is, her bg, etc., it won't matter too much but if you want to read more of her go to the tagged user above!

→

“Thank you,” Deacy finished his speech with a raise of his glass. He smiled and motioned to Brian, who was due to read next. “And now, if you’ll have Brian May continue on telling you another part of the story.”

Everyone clapped and cheered loudly. Brian took the mic from Deacy and waved to the guests. “Uh, good evening!” He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. He caught Iris’s eye, then Roger’s, and as the memories flooded into his thoughts, the words left his tongue.

⇜

“Ok darlings, we leave tomorrow! Let’s make the most out of now, shall we?” Freddie exclaimed, his band mates filing in through the door.

“I don't even get why you have to leave. Why not just record back at the old studio?” Iris asked Brian as they walked into the living room. They sat on the couch, and Brian took his hands in hers. “I’m sorry, love. Our deal with that studio ended, and besides, Freddie wants time away for some ‘inner peace’.” He squeezed her hands. “Don't worry - Mary will keep you company. You’ll both be missing our kisses, I’m sure,” he joked.

Iris gave a sad smile. “It's just… I’ll miss you so much.” Brian knew she was sincere, but for a second, she glanced at Roger, and her eyes betrayed her deeper thoughts.

Of course.

Before Brian could comfort her, to prove that he was better than Roger, that he could be everything she ever wanted, Romeo jumped up and nuzzled Iris, who smiled and lovingly stroked his fur, letting go of Brian’s hands. Brian internally sighed. It seemed as if, as hard as he tried, he could never replace Roger for Iris.

He leaned back into the couch, silently contemplating. Deacy ventured into the kitchen and returned with an unopened beer bottle, which Freddie grabbed and downed in a second. After thanking a confused Deacy, Freddie clapped his hands together and sat down elegantly on the floor, placing the bottle down in the middle of the rug. “Come, sit with me, my darlings!” Everyone followed, Iris being last. Brian held her hand - he knew she was worried. Iris just stared at nothing in particular, a blank expression on her face. Brian gently squeezed her hand again, snapping her out of her haze. She looked up at him and smiled, but he could tell something was wrong. She wasn't usually like this - the Iris he knew years ago was loud, sarcastic, badass. The Iris now… she was quiet and sad, and always lost in thought. Whenever she was asked if something was up, she’d dismiss it and say she was “just tired.

But he knew it was probably about Roger.

Brian couldn’t forget about their past feelings for each other - none of their friends could. Roger made her laugh and cry, made her love her life then hate herself again and again. Brian even thought she still loved him.

Iris leaned her head on his shoulder, and Brian made himself push his thoughts away. He had to be strong, even when she wasn't. For Iris. For them.

“Everyone ready?” Freddie asked. “Ok, who wants to go first?”

Deacy raised his hand. “Um, what exactly are we doing?” Freddie looked at him with his “are-you-serious” expression on his face. “What a stupid question. What does it look like?”

Everyone blinked. Freddie sighed. “It’s spin the bottle, you pricks, and whoever you spin on has to spend seven minutes in a room with you. Now I’m asking, who wants to go first?”

No one moved. Roger looked around the circle, and when he saw that no one else volunteered, of course, he did.

“Calm down Rog, the girls here aren't for you,” Freddie joked, to which Roger rolled his eyes at, “but maybe you can teach Deacy a thing or two.”

Avoiding a swat from Deacy, a grinning Freddie passed the bottle to a glaring Roger, who rubbed his hands together before he spun it. He took one last glance at the whole group, then twisted his hand to spin the bottle.

Brian looked at Iris, who was biting her lip in worry. To her relief, it didn’t land on her.

It landed on Brian.

“Shit,” Brian whispered.

Roger looked up at him, wide-eyed. Mary pursed her lips, trying not to laugh. Freddie jokingly winked at Brian, reached over behind Mary, and slapped Roger on the back, grinning. Deacy just smiled and shook his head. “At least it wasn't me!”

Freddie led the two men to the closet under the stairs and slammed the door shut. Once the door clicked closed, everyone burst into laughter.

“Well…” Roger said awkwardly, shoving his hands into his pockets. Thankfully, though, the closet was a large storage closet that didn’t have much stuff in it. Roger backed up to make more room for the tall Brian, and they both sat on the floor.

“So how’s it been?” Roger asked him, his usual cool expression back on his face. Brian didn't know what to say. He wanted to hate Roger, for causing Iris so much pain, for being so perfect that Iris couldn't give anyone else as much love as she had given him. But alas, there they were, forced to talk in Freddie’s stupid closet for seven whole minutes.

“Brian? You there, mate?” Roger waved a hand in front of Brian’s face to get his attention.

“Oh, uh, sorry.” Brian cleared his thoughts again. “It’s been ok. Iris and I are going to be seperated, with our recording of the new album, though, so that’s a bummer.”

“Aww, you’ll be fine,” Roger exclaimed, patting Brian’s back, his hand lingering there for a moment before coming back down to pull a cigarette out of his pocket. He lit it, placing the other end between his teeth. He leaned back on the wall, chin tilted slightly up as he took a drag. Brian just sat there. “Um… what about you?”

Roger just smiled, small and sly. “Nothing interesting, maybe a few fun nights here and there but other than that, no.” He took another drag.

Brian smiled but shook his head. “Same old Roger,” he teased. He looked back at Roger, whose expression changed. Suddenly Brian regretted what he said. “Sorry. It’s your life. I shouldn't have-” Roger held up his hand, silencing Brian.

To his surprise, Roger wasn't angry. Instead, he had a sad smile on his face, similar to Iris’s earlier. “It’s ok. I know the rest of you think of me that way. And, well you're not wrong.” He let out a long sigh, smoke escaping from his lips. Hesitantly, he continued, “Ever since I broke up with Iris, I’d had nothing. No one. So, I went back to my old habits. Girls, parties, smoking, buncha shit like that.

“I missed her like hell - if I’m being honest, I still do. God, I care for her a lot… A-and I know you’re with her,” he quickly added. “You probably think I hate you, for dating my ex.”

Surprised, Brian started to talk, but Roger shushed him once more. “But… I chose to let her go. I let her go because I knew I couldn't be good for her. I know she hates me. But she’s better off now, right? She’s with you. You're a much better partner for her, someone more reliable, trustworthy, loyal… and I’m glad it was you she decided to love again. So, um, thank you. Take care of her for me. Promise.”

Roger looked up at Brian, with so much sincerity in his eyes that Brian realized he couldn't hate him. He just wanted what was best for Iris. They both did.

Brian opened his mouth to say something, to tell him thank you, that yes, he would take care of Iris, but the door burst open and Freddie walked in. “Alright darlings, it’s been seven minutes!”

Roger got up first, smoothing down his shirt as if the last seven minutes didn't happen. Brian absentmindedly followed suit, lost in thought. During the questionably long walk through Freddie’s house from the closet to the living room, Brian tried to make sense of what Roger had told him. Was it true? Or was Roger just messing with him? Is he really that big of an asshole? To admit that he still cared for his ex, but also made Brian promise to take care for her instead of him, made Brian feel even more guilty for hating Roger.

Then as quickly as he processed everything, they were back in the living room.

Brian’s eyes immediately darted to Iris, who was staring at something behind him.

It was, of course, Roger.

Trying to forget everything running through his head, Brian sat down next to Iris. He managed to whisper a “Hey, love,” before Freddie’s voice filled the room once more, picking Deacy as the bottle’s next victim.

As Deacy span the bottle, Brian looked back at Roger, who was also looking at Iris, pain visible in his eyes. Suddenly, Roger looked up at Brian, and after a long, seeming endless sad gaze, looked back down at the bottle.

And Brian knew what he had to do.

⇝

Brian snapped back to the present. He felt painful tears in his eyes, but blinked them away quickly as he told the audience about the party and how Iris and Roger fell in love again after years of being apart, not even mentioning his history with Iris.

Because he didn’t want them to know the truth. An important turn in their lives - maybe even the most important - that led to everything that happened after that party. As he finished, handed Freddie the mic, and sat down, he decided to reflect on what really happened.

⇜

Not knowing that Brian was observing her, Iris kept glancing at Roger fricken Taylor, the person who captured and broke Iris’s heart, leaving Brian with small remnants of what was once there.

She still loved him. He could see it in her eyes. She looked like a teenager again. Iris Marchesi, the broken girl whose first love left her behind. Iris Marchesi, whose feelings never faded away.

And neither did Roger’s.

And that’s something Roger would have to tell her himself.

But for that to happen, Brian would have to let go of Iris.

And because he loved her, more than she would ever love him, he did.

He let her go.

←

A/N: yikes um i'm sorry if this sucked and barely had a plot pls don’t bully me

[kfedup]

my friend is gone

I’ve been reading back through five years of correspondence with Maj - a bit of a gap in the middle where we wrote far less frequently and that was on me. I’m so glad I started back with the morning messages this winter. 

I’ve read and re-read this reply to a morning message from the night before he stepped off the Earth – wishing I could turn back time and do it over, tell him with my voice one more time how very much I love him...Kelly, I watched the day brighten as best it could, snow on the neighbor's roof.  I thought of you and the many day break photos over the years, your early amblings.  Then here you are, again. I am treading water today...and probably tomorrow.  If I am going anywhere, it is the current, nothing I am doing.  I'll write some overdue letters, watch some baseball.  Till I see you.  Love, Maj. How I wish I had picked up the phone and called him when I received it - but it was late at night when I read it, having jolted awake, picked up my phone, checked my email in a strange haze of dream panic. I didn't want to waken Lu at 1am, so I told myself I’ll see him on Saturday, we have soup plans. He did, in fact have that probably tomorrow. And that was it. And I think he knew.

This is my river of grief.

In one from two Junes ago, he sent me a poem he’d just finished. It became the title poem to his most recent published collection for which he gave such an incredible reading two weeks ago at Kent State. I am so happy that he experienced that one more time. That room full of people who love him and his poetry. Beautiful is such an empty word in the face of that. 

I’ve been weeping all day. Does he taste salt?

The Clouds Pile Up in the North 

These August afternoons I spend on the front porch of the lake cottage with the neighborhood children, a gaggle of tadpoles cavorting in the sparkling waters of summer. I set up a repair shop for fishing reels, roller skates, fire trucks and cut bubble gum out of hair. Tend splinters. Make dill pickle faces and wiggle my ears. 

I tell them how Jesus once rode a walrus down the middle of the lake.  I saw it one midnight under the Aurora Borealis, spiked lightning racing from pole to pole. Where’d the walrus come from? frowns little thumb sucking Clint. From the manger right next to where Jesus was born. Clint rolls his eyes and asks, You got any more red popsicles?

Little Sarah holds up a twenty dollar bill, her monthly allowance, and asks, Whose picture is this? That is Thomas Jefferson, the grand architect of this country. Says here right under the picture his name is Andrew Jackson. Yep, Old Hickory, a tough guy. Sarah rolls her eyes, puts the twenty back into her pink sequined purse and snaps the clasp. 

His toad stool tall ninja brother Kent wanders over to see where Clint got the popsicle. In the freezer. Be sure to shut the door.

The Baptist neighbor brothers find their way to the meeting.  Beanpole Ike the Spike. and his morose little sidekick, Jake the Snake, the tag he wears. They stand off to the side, wearing the heavy boots of their parents’ fears in a fallen world. You guys want a popsicle? No, thank you.

The fisher boys, Bustin’ Justin and red headed Birdman trudge up the sidewalk from the pier. I know the answer, but I want to hear it from them, their sweet, piping lilt. You do any good? Nothin but a couple of mud turtles. They got our hooks.

Jessica, the dark shy cricket who drags her left foot in the gravel, plays alone as always, building a tiny castle of sticks and stones.

I tell the children not to kill the ants on the front porch, because these tiny creatures are all God’s children, like us, and they are my friends. I know their names, every ant on the hill. The worker ants are scurrying home to play with their kids.

Clint brings one to me and asks, Who’s this? Ah, this is my good friend Brave Benny. Clint drops Benny to the concrete and grinds him with his size 4 Batman tennis shoe.

I tell him, One day your heart Of compassion will open. Everything will change. Clint: You’re a fat ass.

Summer is old. The lake has turned over, a murky, pungent green. Clarity is nothing I want any more.

Wherever you are, let our closeness be such, when you weep I taste salt.             

 Maj Ragain

[fartingkitty07]

ya boi has emotions and they hate it

dont you love when you have emotions at 12am on a school night? me neither. i wanted to make something tragically beautiful and went into a haze of writing and i awoke at 1am holding this. enjoy.

***

I had a friend. In my second year of school, the age of scabby knees and gap-toothed smiles and clumsy colouring, I made a friend. He was small and clumsy, and I was clever and awkward, and I extended a hand out to him, a childish gesture of innocent hope.

“Do you want to be my friend?”

He accepted, and we grew closer throughout the year. I would run ahead, strong and fast and swift, and he would stumble behind, stiff and unsure, yet kind and understanding. We walked to each other’s houses, talking about everything and nothing, as young children do, not quite understanding the vastness of our world, and the complexity of time and space and the future.

We were safe. In the golden sun-touched sandpit where we played together and ate our lunches, we were together and invincible and the bond between us felt stronger than any promise we had made before then. 

Our peers looked on in youthful amusement, wondering if we like liked each other, if we were girlfriend and boyfriend, peeping at our conversations from behind brick walls and cheap playground equipment. We responded no, we were just friends, and nothing could taint this pure friendship. 

The years went past, and our friend group grew, adding more friends to our circle, yet he still remained one of the closest friends to my heart. Even after our childish seven-year old selves were changed and shaped by the inevitable course of time, our friendship remained, and we both knew it would stay. 

Once, while we were reading together in a quiet spot in the library, him reading a comic book, me reading a spy novel, he turned to me, resting a head on my shoulder. 

“Will you keep a secret?”

Of course, I answered, offended that he would think I could not. He told me the secret. Don’t ask me what it was. It’s a secret.

I still remember it to this day.

I remember it every time primary school is brought up, and the warm sunlight of our youth shines on my face.

I do not think I told him much about myself in the time we knew each other. We knew everything and nothing about each other. I could list off his middle name, what his minecraft username was and what his biggest pet peeve was. He knew what time my brother was born, what ice-cream I would always get from the canteen when I didn’t have enough money, how to jiggle open our faulty gate when we walked to school together. And yet, he did not know I had a deep insecurity of my voice, and I did not know what his favourite colour was.

It might have been blue. That seems like a safe bet. All boys liked blue. 

We envisioned ourselves as superheroes taking on the world, navigating the struggles of school, fighting the big bad monsters who happened to share the same name as some particularly nasty teachers. We wrote stories, saving them on our computers in a super-secret folder with a password that my mother would have been able to guess in five seconds. We were invincible. We were the superhero crew, me, the fearless leader, sure and capable and strong, he the nerdy yet intelligent inventor, and my other best friend the kind and sympathetic comic relief. 

We competed at everything - games, sports, schoolwork, swimming, you name it. I would win, of course. I didn’t brag. He didn’t mind. I stood tall and he stood in my shadow, and yet, it felt the opposite. He was everywhere, unpredictable where I felt boring and bland. He shone where I did not.

Primary school ended. It was the end of a golden era. My close-knit friend group took a scholarship test to get into the best school in our area. We all hoped we would get in together. 

I passed. He did not. 

At the graduation ceremony, I got an award. He did not.

I got a leadership role. He did not.

I should have seen it coming. I should have known that something this happy was not meant to be. The books that we had read together in the library years ago foretold it. Something forged from the brave souls of small seven year olds with nothing to lose could not withstand the harsh reality of time.

Someone always leaves first.

I look back, and look fondly at the time we shared, I should be thankful that I got to have that time with him.

But it wasn’t enough.

Is it greedy of me to ask for a little more time? Just a little more?

But no, the universe is harsh in its rules. 

We parted with empty promises to keep in touch. Final hugs were exchanged. 

That summer, my family moved to another suburb. 

I could no longer walk to his house. 

And a new era of high school began, with one of my best friends at my side, a gaping hole at my other. I felt exposed.

Last week, I opened up my computer to clean out my old files.

I stumbled on one that read TOP SECRET!!! DO NOT OPEN UNLESS YOUR NAME IS… 

I opened the file and cried.

The superhero crew had fallen.

I closed that file and kept it in a folder titled “Old stuff - delete”.

I did not delete that file. I do not know why.

I still have it, to this day, in a folder called “Stories”.

One morning, my brother started showing an interest in Minecraft, shocked by how much I knew about it.

“How do you know all this stuff?”

I did not tell him it was because I had listened to my best friend talk about it for hours.

I wonder if he remembers me.

A few weeks ago, I got moved into a different swimming class. He was there.

I said hello, and he did not respond.

We talked, and it was as if we were strangers meeting for the first time, or vague acquaintances having met through a mutual friend. 

I did not know which hurt worse.

How was high school? I asked.

Good, he answered.

And there was no childish determination, no naïve bravery to continue the conversation. 

We stood up to exit the water, and I noticed he’d gotten taller than me, stronger and more muscled. Another thing that had changed since our primary school years.

He had a new group of friends now, he told me. He did not tell me their names. He told me which subjects he was doing. He did not tell me if he liked them. I told him that I had taken up drawing. I had not told him I liked girls. I told him that I do karate now. I did not tell him about my right knee and the trouble it caused me.

How much had changed? 

Instead of swimming in the same lane like we did in primary school, we were split by a lane rope. I could not help but laugh at the irony behind it. Everything else had already separated us, and now this lane rope was turning once inseparable friends into rivals.

He swum faster now. It surprised me how much of an advantage puberty gave you. Still, I would dominate in sprints, outstripping him by a metre. Girl and boy. Girl vs. boy. 

It brought me some comfort that some things don’t change.

But they might. 

Yesterday, I got his number from a friend.

I messaged him that I missed him.

He read my message and did not respond.