#my brain is more willing to take the words in as words instead of glossing it over as *hollywood subtitle voice* [speaks foreign language]

[italiantea]

bro acting cocky just because his buddy is a magical talking creature who is a bag instead of a magical creature inside a bag. like dude your guy probably licks people ive seen what he does

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Snow Bunny | Azriel x Reader

Summary: After the bat boys enjoy their annual snowball fight, in which Azriel wins, he gets the best prize of all, a night alone with his mate.

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: Smut, fingering, p in v penetration, nudity, violent snowball rock assault (rip cassian), and tooth rotting fluff.

Minors, do not interact!

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing smut, so go easy on me lol, was just in another feening-over-azriel mood and needed to write, hope you enjoy <3

Requests are open!

It was a cold winter, though all of the winters in Night Court were cold. Compared to Illyrian winters, Azriel supposed that they weren’t too bad. Illyrian winters had everyone shivering and shaking and doing anything for the littlest bit of warmth. Night Court winters usually yielded a bit of snow, maybe a foot or two if the Mother was feeling generous, for the children, or in this case, grown Illyrian males, to play in.

The annual snowball fight began as usual, they built their snow forts, packed them densely, or at least Azriel always did, and went to work making snowballs.

He would admit that using his shadows to make snowballs for him did seem like cheating, but who is he to not use his resources?

Rhys and Cassian went head to head first, predictably, and after hurling snowballs densely packed at each other as hard as they could, their tanned skin was left tinted red and a few bruises. The killer blow was when Cassian hurled a final one at Rhys, and this snowball was packed full of ice in the center.

It knocked the High Lord straight out.

Cassian let out a whoop of victory, but a bit too early, as Azriel then launched a massive snowball with a rock in the center at him, payback, and a guarantee of victory apparently as Cassian then collapsed backward on the snow with a soft groan.

Both Nesta and Feyre came out, not too worried as they were very used to their mates’ shenanigans. Feyre helped drag Rhys into the house, while Nesta fought with Cassian, who was mumbling about how he was “perfectly fine”.

“Really…’m okay, jus’ a few more minutes..”

He mumbled, clearly out of it. Nesta grabbed his legs and began dragging him away.

“You are going inside. I am not letting you die because of a snowball fight of all things.”

Her stern tone rang out, dragging him into the house after Feyre managed to get Rhys inside. Azriel followed soon after.

*********************************************************

You went to the door to drag Azriel back inside but were instead met with the sight of him entering, and you ran smack into his chest. You shuddered slightly at how cold and wet he was. His lips were chapped, crusty, and dry. You pulled your tube of lip gloss out and applied a generous amount on his lips, before leaving a kiss on his forehead.

“I’m assuming you won?”

You asked in an amused tone, glancing over at Cassian and Rhys being dragged away by their mates. Azriel chuckled, the deep sound sending a thrill through your body, before replying with a little smirk.

“Yes, per usual.”

You rolled your eyes playfully.

“Quit being a cocky bastard, and let’s go get you in a hot bath. You’re freezing.”

He gave a little huff of laughter at your quip, before following as his mate dragged him off to their shared bedroom. Your intentions were far from pure, and you wanted much more than a bath, but only if he was willing to provide that. He might be tired.

“Are you sure you want me to take a bath?”

He asked, a knowing glint in his eye as he pushed the door to your shared bedroom closed, locking it painfully slowly, ensuring that the noise would echo through her brain and rattle it.

He began slowly stalking towards you with a predatory, feline grace, his wings flaring behind him in what you could recognize as a symbol of both dominance and desire. Even his shadows seemed eager, slithering up your body as far as he allowed them, their cool touch both soothing your skin and causing goosebumps to rise.

“Maybe a bath isn’t so necessary.”

You said, your voice more feeble than you’d like it to be, swallowing as you sat on the edge of your large bed, with him moving to stand right in front of you and look down at you with nothing short of a lover’s gaze.

“Good. I love our annual snowball fights, but do you know what I love more..?”

He asked in his rich baritone voice, smiling slightly as he pushed you gently back onto the bed, settling over you as he let his hands roam your soft, warm body. His hands went from your thighs, back up to your hair and face, then back to your inner thigh as his leg nudged your knees to open.

As any sensible person would do, you spread your legs for him easily. You'd gotten to a point within the mating bond that submitting to him was as easy as breathing.

“..No, what?”

You asked, your voice wavering slightly as your cheeks flushed, watching him with wide eyes. The arousal in both of your scents could easily be detected. His hand stopped around the waistband of your pants, tugging them off, and the rest of your clothing was soon to go.

Eventually, his large hands began palming your breasts, rubbing your nipples between his thumb and pointer finger. He leaned down near your ear, prolonging his answer as long as possible to build your curiosity and the tension before he spoke.

“My mate.”

He answered simply, his hot breath fanning against your ear, before his mouth moved down to latch onto one of your pert nipples, alternating between swirling his tongue around it and sucking. The sheer dominance and possession in his statement made your desire pool as your heavy breathing turned to light mewls and moans, whining to him.

His mouth then switched from your right nipple to your left, continuing his sinful sucking, before separating with a little ‘pop’ as he smirked up at you.

His hand had trailed down to his leathers, unbuttoning his shirt before pulling it off, if only to give you a little taste of the eye candy he truly was beneath his clothes. One hand reached down to your panties, and ran a finger over them, nearly purring in delight.

“Already so wet? I must've put on quite a show tonight.”

He murmured against your chest as one of his fingers hooked around the waistband of your panties and tugged them down, before throwing them onto the floor with the rest of your clothes. His fingers slid through your wet folds, before beginning to playfully taunt your clit, rubbing just enough for some pleasure, but never enough for any real friction.

One of his fingers slid over to your slit, gathering all the slick that waited there for him, and he coated his fingers in it before slipping it in, easily going knuckle-deep.

“I’m gonna stretch you out, okay? Gonna get you ready for my cock.”

He said with a small smirk in a soft, almost whispered voice, that had deep currents of lust and desire running not far under it. Soon, one finger turned into two pumping in and out, curling into that delicious spot while you whined because of the stretch. The whines soon turned to moans and begging him for more.

“Az, need more..”

You begged, your hips already starting to buck on instinct and try to grind against his fingers.

“I’ll give you more in due time, darling.”

He replied simply. And then a third finger was slipped in, his thumb still running sinful circles and applying just the right amount of pressure to your clit. In no time you were already slipping so, so close to the edge, and he let you get there, rubbing faster and harder until you fell apart around his fingers with a cry.

His fingers continued working you, prolonging your pleasure as much as possible before slipping out when the high had ended. However, you could hear the sound of his leathers slipping off, and when you opened your hazy eyes, you saw a glimpse of his cock, throbbing, the tip pink and leaking, begging for attention. He stroked himself a few times, hissing at the feeling, before running it through your folds thrice to get it soaked and ready.

“Ready? Take a deep breath for me and relax, darling.”

He whispered softly into your ear, and you could feel his tip prodding at your entrance before slowly inching in. No matter how many times you took him, the sheer size of his dick always managed to surprise you.

The stretch immediately took over your senses, making you whine against him. It was a mixture of pleasure and irritable pain that you didn’t want to admit how much you enjoyed.

After what felt like hours of soft, whispered reassurances and praise of how good you were doing for him, and how warm and tight you were, he had finally bottomed out. You immediately jerked your hips against him, breath leaving you at how delicious it felt.

“Please move, Az. Need you to.”

You said, your breathing already shaky. You weren’t going to last long, and from the way he was already groaning and throbbing in you, he wasn't going to either.

He pressed himself against you, beginning a slow and steady rhythm as he moved against you, groaning lewdly into your ear. His place turned to sloppy, loving thrusts as he just began going with instinct.

“You gonna cum with me, sweet girl? Yeah?”

He asked in a breathless tone, panting for air. The moment you hit your climax, your walls clenching and throbbing around his cock, letting you feel every particular inch and vein as it moved inside of you, he also came, thick ropes of his seed shooting deep into you, both of your moans and groaning making a chorus with the sounds of wet squelching and skin slapping skin as he painted your insides white.

You both just laid there for a moment, content to enjoy the afterglow, and as soon as it came down, Azriel was there for his usual godly aftercare.

“Bath?”

He asked, voice raspy and somewhat gruff from all his noises. You gave a wordless nod, and he picked you up, carrying you over to the bathtub and starting a warm bath, easing both of you into it.

He knew your entire haircare routine to the smallest details, and his shadows, still a bit pouty that he hadn’t let them participate in your session, seemed eager to help as you felt their cool touch against your scalp, then moving on to wash your body with your favorite scent of body wash.

You washed his hair, scrubbing shampoo in, then washed out and followed by conditioner, before the shadows helped you clean him off. A few of them helped ‘clean’ his very sensitive cock, causing Azriel to hiss at the feeling and tell them to stop, which only made you and the shadows giggle.

When you finally got out of the bath, you didn’t bother to put on any clothes, and neither did he. You enjoyed the moments of bare skin-to-skin contact with him.

Curled up in the bed, laying beside him with your arms around him, one of his arms around her waist, and his wings curled protectively around you, you whispered something to him.

“I love you.”

You whispered, voice soft and a bit raspy from earlier. He opened one eye, peeking at your serene face, before whispering back with a smile on his lips.

“I love you, too.”

[8-rae-rae-8]

Feral anon back with brain worms 😔

What if 09! Ghost and 22! Ghost, who both regress temporarily swapped universes?

(For simplicity, 22!Ghost will be Simon and 09! Ghost will be Riley)

Simon at first does his best to remain professional and respectful. He just wants to get home and is willing to cooperate the best he can with the version of 141. He’s stressed and worried about his 141 and he feels his regression coming along. He misses Baba, he misses Soap, he misses Gaz he just wants to be held. He doesn’t realise he’s pulled out his comfort blanket until he sees Captain Mactavish’s soft, concerned eyes.

“Ah, so you’re a wee one like my ghostie?”

Ghost is reluctant to answer, he freezes and holds his breath. But Mactavish has played this game before. Very carefully, he steps into Simon’s space, slowly cupping Simon’s masked cheek in a delicate hold.

“It’s alright if you need a break. Little one. You must be so stressed and scared, aye?”

Simon nods, his shoulders shaking a little as he starts to weep “w-wan’ baba..” he hiccups.

“I know, wee one..it’s okay, I’ll get ye back to baba.” Mactavish promises “but until then, would you let me take care of you?” Simon hesitates but nods, with shaky hands he pulls off his mask. A sign of ultimate trust. Mactavish’s heart aches at seeing that Simon’s face is littered with scars- even more than his Ghost’s. Glasgow smile, a tear in his upper lip that exposes a little bit of his gum. Tiny, scarred cuts…but he looks past all those and sees the scared, vulnerable tiny boy instead, waiting for the captain to step back in horror. Mactavish doubles down and cups his cheek again.

“There’s the sweet, adorable wee bub. Goodness yer’s just as cute as me own wee one!” His heart warms when he sees the 6’2 giant melt and squirm at the praise. His already flushed cheeks getting hotter under his touch. He smiles when he hears Simon coo and babble a little.

“Oh? We got a really tiny Bub? Well, we should probably get you out of these yucky big boy clothes, aye?”

Simon nods and begins to suckle on the corner of his blanket. He’s about to try walk when he feels the captain pick him up. He squeaks and clings to Mactavish, wiggling and trying to get down. He’s too heavy! He’ll hurt Mactavis-

His thoughts and squirming are halted by a soft chuckle and a gentle pat on the bum.

“I know ye wan’ to walk Bub, but yer just too small! Can’t risk ye going home to baba hurt, no?”

Simon whines and blushes more. Mactavish’s words make him fully regress and the last bit of fight leaves his body. He opts to cling to his temporary caregiver and the stress immediately leaving his body. His eyes gloss over and his eyelids get heavy. A soft coo can be heard and he melts further as the captain begins to draw random shapes into his back.

“There’s a good Bub, just relax an let uncle Mactavish take good care of ye until baba can come pick ye up.”

Simon has to borrow Mactavish’s softer clothes. Riley’s frame is a bit too small for Simon’s. But he’s still able to be padded up before a nap and is content with suckling on his blanket as he cuddles in Mactavish’s lap.

Price and Roach enter the office and see the soft scene. Mactavish looks up and chuckles

“Looks like both the ghosts have more in common than we thought…” Mactavish grins fondly, brushing a stray lock of hair away from the sleeping baby’s face “hell, I think they maybe the same age..”

He misses Riley and is worried about his little Ghostie. But being able to take care of another Ghost is helping ease his anxieties and fears. He’ll get his Riley back and he’ll make sure Simon is reunited with his Baba.

UNCLE MACTAVISH

SOBBING SOBBING SOBBING

THATS SO FUCKING CUTE

Stabbing you stabbing you /pos /aff

I MUST REITERATE

"UNCLE MACTAVISH"

UGH /pos

The Ghosties 😭😭

IMAGINE THEY MEET

MACTAVISH AND SOAP

(then the lingering question 'why isn't Roach with you too? Where's your Roach?')

[satinsumu]

first. || suna r.

word count: 2.8k

warnings: MINORS DNI, f!reader, slight slight angst but mostly fluff, language, unprotected sex, fingering, virginity loss, dirty talk, praise, creampie, soft suna is romantic, shy baby’s first time ❤️ 

summary: it’s hard not to get self-conscious being intimate with suna for the first time, especially when he’s far more experienced than you are—but your boyfriend is sure to remind you that there’s nothing to be afraid of.

a/n: what did i say about loving the first time trope lol. also didn’t proofread bc that’s how we do it here (edit: this was so much longer than i’d intended and i ended up getting so much more attached than i’d intended lmfao i want a suna in my life Right Now)

a tingle travels throughout your body as your bare back touches the soft sheets of suna’s bed, your boyfriend’s hands gently moving from your shoulders down to your knees.

he lifts one of your legs up, slender fingers rubbing small circles against your skin, before bending down to press a small kiss to your inner thigh. his greyish, golden eyes—half-lidded and slowly growing darker with desire—flick up to meet yours with such tender intensity that it takes your breath away.

“are you okay?” he asks quietly at your silence, carefully setting your leg back down against the mattress as he leans over you, one hand planted beside your head. 

“yeah,” you reassure him. the reply comes out a bit weaker than you’d intended.

“we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” suna murmurs, lowering himself to give you a small kiss, right at edge of your mouth. his lips are warm. gentle.

“i do, i’m just—” you quickly answer, but look away with slight embarrassment. “just a little nervous, that’s all... don’t know if i’ll be good.”

the second half of your sentence is just barely above a whisper, and suna’s expression softens.

“don’t worry about that,” he mumbles, pressing another kiss to your forehead, before slowly moving further down your neck and chest. “just want you to be comfortable.”

you feel him stop just above your left breast, the ghost of his breath lingering on your flesh. a sudden, warm sensation washes over you as suna takes your nipple into his mouth and sucks, his hot, wet tongue swirling circles around the bud. you gasp at the feeling and squeeze your eyes shut while his other hand slides down your stomach, hovering just above the thin, silky fabric of your underwear.

suna releases your nipple from his mouth as he pushes himself back up, licking his lips while studying your expression.

“you’re so warm down here,” he says with a small smile. his finger draws a long, slow stripe along your folds, the pressure through your panties just enough to send another tingle traveling all over your body. “can i take these off?”

you nod and grant him permission, shyness burning in your cheeks at how exposed and vulnerable you feel, but also at how careful suna is being. he smooths his palm against your hip bone and drags the garment of clothing down your legs before it comes back up, teasingly squeezing the flesh of your inner thigh. 

“good girl,” suna hums, straightening himself to pull his own shirt over his head. the words make your heart pound violently in your chest.

without another word, he takes your other breast in his large hand, groping and kneading the flesh while his opposite hand begins to make work of your sex. he presses two fingers against your folds and slowly rubs circles against the skin as you feel your clit grow more and more sensitive to the pseudo-contact. 

you tilt your head back, dipping further into the sheets, while a shaky sigh escapes your lips. a small smile rests on suna’s face at the sight—you seem to be feeling good, and he intends on keeping it that way. 

his movements are growing faster now. you can feel your arousal growing wetter, and you know suna can feel it too, with the way his fingertips are coated with your slick. he takes this as a safe indication to finally slip a digit into you—god knows how fucking badly he wishes it were his cock instead—and the little squeak that rolls off your tongue is like music to his ears.

“so tight, baby,” he murmurs, elated at the sight of you clenching around him while trying to keep his composure. how did he get so lucky? “but you’re taking my fingers so well.”

there’s so much going on.

you can feel your boyfriend watching you, but you’re too distracted to think about how your face must look right now. especially when he’s still squeezing your tits, focusing on your pleasure as he continues pumping his finger in and out of your tiny hole. then he adds another, and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, surprised that suna’s hands are moving with so much ease and also how good it feels. even more so when his thumb continues to rub at your clit in tandem with his other fingers.

soft, lewd squelching noises can be heard in the quiet of his room as both you and suna realize that this won’t be enough. you need more. your pussy is practically begging for it, even if your mouth isn’t.

“think you’re ready, sweetheart,” suna breathes, willing himself to pull his fingers out of your cunt.

you nod coyly in response, slightly irritated at yourself for feeling uneasy in front of your boyfriend; he’s being so good to you, so patient, but you’ve just never done anything so lewd befo—

your brain short-circuits as you watch suna look you dead in the eye before putting two glistening fingers, still covered in your juices, into his mouth. he slowly pulls out, soft pink lips wrapped around them, tongue lapping shamelessly at whatever he missed on his thumb.

he gives you an alluring smirk, and your hands instinctively fly up to cover your flustered face. your cheeks are burning with both desire and embarrassment, but suna grips your wrist and slowly pulls it away.

“look at me, baby,” he says, his body hovering closely above yours. “nothing to be embarrassed about.”

god, you look so fucking cute, he really doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“can i...?” suna trails off, the hardness in his pants growing more and more difficult to ignore by the second as it presses against your leg.

“p-please, rin,” you whisper. the way your innocent, nervous eyes are asking him to fuck you is honestly enough to make him jizz in his pants. 

without another word, suna pushes himself back up, unzipping his pants so that his erect member can finally spring free. he barely has to give it a few impatient strokes—a trait you rarely see in your boyfriend—before it’s fully hard. the sheer size of his cock causes you to gulp, the tiny beads of precum already leaking out from its tip.

suna takes it in his hand, smearing his own arousal over the head before bending over to rub its heaviness over your folds. your clit is already puffy and sensitive from his fingers earlier, and it feels like it’s twitching in pleasure from the contact. 

“o-oh,” you gasp, and suna smiles at the sound, his eyes glossing over your body like he simply can’t get enough. he slowly moves his cock downwards, using all his self-restraint to ignore the throbbing, aching desire in it to just fuck your brains out already.

lining it up with your entrance, he murmurs, “i’m gonna put it in.”

“okay,” you exhale, chest heaving in anticipation.

your hands travel up beside your head to grip the pillow as a means to brace yourself, and you finally feel suna slide into you with surprising ease. every inch of his cock drags along your walls in slow motion, and you’ve never been so physically close to him before. there’s a soft ache—barely noticeable—but it’s not painful... and yet, it’s not pleasurable either.

an unprecedented panic creeps its way into your head at the realization.

what if this doesn’t end up feeling good? what if he doesn’t end up feeling good? oh god, what if he doesn’t even finish? surely, you’d be the only girl he’ll have slept with that could fuck up this bad—who knows how many girls have come before you? (literally.) what if—

“what’s wrong?” suna’s gentle voice snaps you out of your thoughts, his tone tinged with a slight worry. 

“n-nothing,” you shake your head quickly. ugh, you feel like such... a loser. an idiot, really.

“talk to me, sweetheart,” suna murmurs, towering over you as he’s still balls deep inside your cunt. “does it hurt?”

he wants to pull out in case that’s the problem, but also doesn’t want to make any sudden moves, for fear of hurting you.

“no, i’m okay,” you insist in an attempt to reassure him. “i just, i don’t know, i’m being stupid.”

suna’s expression softens, but before he can say anything, you’re already babbling on again, and you can’t even stop.

“what if you don’t end up feeling good?” you quiver, the question more so directed at yourself than at your boyfriend. “what if you don’t even finish because of how much i suck? i-i don’t want to be the only person you’ve been with who’s bad at sex—”

your heart is racing now and the words are tumbling out of your mouth helplessly. you feel so bad for dumping this on him, and your frustration towards yourself brings small tears to the corners of your eyes—

“baby, listen to me,” suna says quietly but firmly, one hand cupping your cheek and turning your face towards him so that you’re no longer avoiding eye contact. his thumb gently brushes away the dampness at the edge of your lower lashline before he continues,

“first of all, there’s no such thing as being bad at sex—and you’re doing great,” he murmurs, planting a quick kiss to your lips. “you’re the only person i want to do this with, and as long as it’s with you, i’m happy.”

you sniffle a little bit, but your heart soars at his words, the tension in your chest slowly easing.

“second of all, don’t worry about me,” he says gently, his eyes filled with a tender adoration as he gazes at you. “it’s really sweet that you’re thinking of me, but i want you to feel good.”

a warmth blooms in your cheeks. 

“and besides, you’re fucking beautiful,” suna continues, leaning down again to press his lips against your bare shoulder. “i could cum just from the sight of you, but i’m trying to hold back because i want you to finish first.”

the bluntness of his words causes you to look away shyly, and suna smiles down at you. 

“so,” he begins again, before giving you a small suck on your jaw. “can you let me make you feel good?”

you nod slowly, and bring your arms up to wrap them around his neck.

“sorry,” you manage a small giggle at the feeling of his dick still inside you—you really have terrible timing, that much you’ll admit.

“it’s okay,” suna murmurs, turning his head to kiss your cheek. “i love you, you know that.”

he’s said those words before, but the way he’s uttering them into your ear right now, in the quiet intimacy that only you two share, makes your heart race and your head spin.

“just let me know if you want me to stop,” he says, before finally, gradually pulling himself out.

suna slides his cock back into you with ease, your juices still coating his member. he repeats the motion a few more times, each time just a little bit more fluidly and rapidly than the last, until you’ve fully adjusted to his size. the sensation is still foreign, but no longer uncomfortable.

he finally reaches a pace where he thrusts himself into you for the first time with a low grunt, the rough penetration catching you off guard. a small “mmf!” escapes your mouth as you bite your lip, embarrassed at hearing the sound of your own voice.

“don’t hold those precious noises back, sweetheart,” suna breathes seductively into your skin, his low voice causing you to clench harder around him. “wanna hear how good i make you feel. the louder the better.”

you nod at his encouragement as small beads of sweat form along your temple.

he gives you another sharp thrust, followed by another, and then another, until he’s steadily rocking into you as the bed creaks with every movement. this time, you can’t help the wanton moans of his name that fill the air, each one prompting him to continue.

“a-ah!” you cry at a particularly harsh snap of his hips, your cunt sucking him back in every time he pulls out of you. “r-rin! rin! rin!”

suna’s never been one to have a big head or a large ego, but the way you’re chanting his name like a mantra makes pride swell in his chest. you look so angelic, eyes fluttered shut with every time he fucks into you, nipples moving up and down with your breasts, hair splayed out against his bedsheets, sopping wet pussy clamping around his cock as your very first time. how could he not be in love with you?

“f-feeling good, baby?” he pants, trying to hold it together. 

“yes,” you gasp as a small dribble of drool leaks out of the corner of your mouth. but you don’t care. you want him. more of him, more, more, more. “want you so bad.”

suna thinks he’s going to lose his damn mind.

“you like that?” his voice borders on a growl, and his strong arms snake beneath you to pull you into a hug before one of them props his body up against the mattress so he can angle himself into you with even more intensity. lord help him, he wants to cum so fucking bad with how hot you look, your nails digging into his skin as he fucks you into tomorrow.

“n-ngh!” you groan, tossing your head back at the way suna is driving himself in and out of you as his eyes flit down to your heaving chest. “i-i think ‘m c-close...”

that was all suna needed to hear as he laid you back down, flat against the bed as one hand travels urgently down to your heat. he takes two fingers and begins rubbing your folds again, one dipping past them to play with your clit, the stimulation causing you to see stars. suna presses an open mouthed kiss against your lips at the sight of them parting, taking the opportunity to slide his tongue across yours.

he picks up the speed of his thrusts again, his other hand now preoccupied with kneading your breasts and pinching your nipple as you cry out for him, and only him.

“r-rin!” your voice rings in his head, your gasps broken up into needy pants. 

“doin’ so good, angel,” he mutters against your lips, still mercilessly slamming his cock into you. “taking my cock so—ngh!—well, wanna keep this pussy all to myself.”

you don’t even have time to process the lewdness of his words before your back is arching, suna’s fingers rubbing your clit at an unbelievable pace as he simultaneously slides himself in and out of you, the slapping sounds amplified by your juices.

“cum for me sweetheart, you can do it,” suna urges, his eyes fixated on your face. “show me just how good i make you feel—”

a sudden wave of bliss floods over you as you feel the tension in your body release, your clit throbbing with pleasure at the sensation. suna’s eyes widen at the way your jaw grows slack, trying not to cum at the mere sight of your fucked out expression while he helps you ride out your orgasm.

“h-hah,” you gasp, still chasing your climax while suna continues thrusting into your cunt, his cock twitching with arousal. after a few seconds, he picks up his own pace, chasing his own high with your body.

“god, you feel so good around me,” he mutters, clenching his teeth at the way your walls continue to suck him in. 

“want you to cum inside, r-rin,” you whine into his ear, the syllables broken up by how hard he’s fucking you as your whole being practically bounces around his cock, his balls clapping with wet slapping sounds against your ass. “f-fill m-me up?”

you don’t need to say anything else as suna finally snaps, pushing himself so deep into you with an almost primal urge as cum shoots out of his cock. you can feel the warmth all the way in your belly as you look up at your boyfriend, sweaty and out of breath, panting into your neck before finally pulling himself out of you.

he catches your lips with his as he gives you a long, passionate kiss, before breaking away and giving you a quick peck on both cheeks, then your nose, then your forehead.

“you did so good, baby,” he murmurs, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, that had found its way to stick to your face. an affectionate warmth brings a small smile to your lips as you nuzzle your cheek into suna’s palm, and he feels himself lose his breath at the sight of you.

“be good and stay here, okay?” he mumbles, reluctantly pulling himself off of you. he could stare at you forever. “i’ll go get a towel and clean you up. i love you.”

[tobesolonely]

it’s not christmas ‘til you come home

a/n: hello!! please enjoy this piece from my dad!harry universe! (u dont have to read any of them for it to make sense, but it would be cool if u did! loosely based on it’s not christmas ‘til you come home by norah jones <3 hope you enjoy! thank u to @harryysstyless​ for beta reading for me!! happy holidays everyone :)

warnings: SMUT, a bit of angst <3 word count: ~5.1k 

my ko-fi! thank you :)

December 23rd, 2:00 PM

For as long as you and Harry have been in a relationship, you’ve never not spent a Christmas together. 

Before expanding your family, you and he used to hop from party to party every Christmas Eve. Both of you would be absolutely trashed by the time Harry’s driver would drop you off at his house in the early hours of the morning. You’d sleep in until approximately noon, willing your hangovers to go away before finally making it down the stairs and into the kitchen to prepare two steaming cups of coffee. The two of you would then make your way into the living room and exchange gifts (where Harry always went way over the budget you’d set). 

Once you had your first child, Allison, your yearly tradition of party hopping and getting so drunk you could hardly put one foot in front of the other was no more. Instead, you and Harry opted for calm nights in, watching Christmas movies and drinking hot cocoa until she eventually grew tired and got carried up to bed. You would wait an hour or so before springing into action, playing Santa and setting out all of the gifts she asked for and then some. Harry never forgot to take a big bite out of the cookie and carrot left out for Santa and his reindeer.

This tradition stayed the same once your second baby, Oliver, was born. Even though he was too young to know what was going on, Harry was still excited to spoil him rotten this year as it was his first Christmas. However, given the current state of the world, you were afraid Harry would not be here for the first time ever.

“Mumma, when’s daddy coming home?” your six-year-old, Ally, asked for what had to be the seventh time that afternoon. “I made him a drawing for his gift ‘nd I can’t wait for him to see it!”

“Let me see what you drew for Daddy, love bug,” you say cheerily, purposefully glossing over her question. Ally proudly holds her drawing up next to her face. She looks up at you with wide eyes, awaiting a compliment from you. 

“That’s gorgeous, bug! Daddy’s gonna love it,” you inform her. “Maybe you can stick a lil’ bow on it and set it under the tree for him, hmm?” 

“Good idea, Mumma!” Ally runs to the box where you kept all the supplies for gift wrapping, digging around for a pink bow to stick on the corner of her drawing.

While she’s preoccupied with finding the perfect bow to place on her drawing for Harry, you take a quick glance at your phone. He still hadn’t gotten back to you since last night’s quick conversation when he very briefly mentioned he didn’t know if he’d be able to make it home.

He was filming in Los Angeles. You shared your uncertainties about him going before he departed but in the end, this was an opportunity you didn’t want him to miss out on. You read the Los Angeles Times free articles on your phone daily, keeping track of the state of the pandemic in Southern California. You knew it was much worse there than it was at home in London. You feared what you were afraid of was sadly bound to happen— Harry may get stuck in LA.

You didn’t want to say anything to your curious daughter because communication with him had been so sparse. You didn’t know anything for certain yet. But what were you supposed to think? You knew flying nationally wasn’t a good idea at the moment, never mind internationally.

“Hey bug, d’ya think you can watch your brother for a moment? Mumma’s gotta go make a phone call.” 

You hear your daughter let out a slightly irritated sigh. “I suppose I can, Mumma.” Ally responds with a voice laced with exasperation. You chuckle slightly under your breath at your overly dramatic (much like her dad) six-year-old and head into the kitchen, quickly dialing your husband’s familiar number.

“Hello?” 

You let out a sigh of relief upon hearing Harry’s low, hoarse voice. 

“Hi, honey. Just checkin’ in to see how things are going…” you hear shuffling on his end. “It’s December 23rd, you know.”

“I know, love.”

“Did I wake you?”

“Six in tha’ mornin’ here.”

“I’m sorry, H. S’just Allison keeps on askin’ when you’ll be home and ‘m just so worried you won’t make it home on time and you’ll miss Oliver’s first Christmas—“

“Darling,” Harry interrupts your anxiety-fueled ramble. “‘M gonna make it home. Have I ever not been there when I said I would?” 

“No,” you say quietly. “I’m just worried, Harry. I hear traveling is going to get very strict because they’re trying to prevent people from going anywhere for Christmas…”

“Fine, then I’ll get my own plane with jus’ me and a pilot. Wear a mask the entire time and whatnot. Yanno I can make that happen if it’s necessary, pet.” 

Harry’s calm demeanor about the whole situation brings you a bit of peace. Perhaps you were catastrophizing something that wasn’t as big of a deal as you thought it was a mere two minutes ago. If he wasn’t worried about not making it home, you didn’t see any reason to stress about it— not for one second longer.

“Okay then,” you reply, still a bit wary of his travel plans. “What shall I tell your daughter? She’s drivin’ me up the walls asking where you are every twenty minutes.”

Your husband lets out a breathy laugh, causing you to giggle along with him. “Tell her not to eat up all the Christmas cookies before I get a taste of one.”

December 24th, 8:45 AM

Part of you was hoping you’d wake up on Christmas Eve and Harry would be tucked into bed next to you, plump lips parted, the sound of his snores the only noise in the room. However, you were a rational woman, if nothing else. You knew he wouldn’t be by your side when you woke up. 

You make your way down the hall and peek inside your son’s room. He was fast asleep, plump thumb in his mouth. You smile at your sleeping baby and gently close the door behind you, deciding to let him sleep in a bit longer before waking him up to feed him. 

Next, you walk to your daughter's room, gently pushing open the door in case she was still sleeping. Instead, you find her sat at her desk, deeply focused on what appeared to be another drawing. 

“Good morning, lovebug,” you greet your daughter in a sing-songy voice. “You’re up early. What are you working on?”

“Makin’ a letter for Santa,” she replies, not bothering to look up from what she was doing. 

“A letter for Santa?” You start racking your brain for anything you and Harry could’ve possibly forgotten to get for Ally, but you finished your Christmas shopping for your children way back in November.

“Yes,” she answers matter-of-factly. “‘M askin’ him to make sure my Daddy is home by tonight so we can eat cookies together and watch Toy Story, Mumma.” 

“I’m sure Santa will make that happen for you,” you reassure her. “You’ve been a very good girl this year, been so helpful with Olly and doin’ so well in school. The least Santa can do is get you whatever you want.” You see her smile as she digs around in her crayon box.

“Can we wait ‘til Daddy gets home to make Santa’s cookies, Mumma?”

“Sure we can, bug,” Ally claps her hands together excitedly, bouncing around in her tiny chair. “Gonna go make some pancakes, does that sound yummy?”

“Can we have chocolate chip pancakes please?”

“Are you askin’ me that because your dad isn’t here to throw a fit about it?” You give her a knowing smile, causing her to giggle.

“Maaaaybe…” Your daughter turns to face you, swinging her legs back and forth.

“If I make your chocolate chip pancakes, you can’t tell your dad. Deal?” You hold up your pinky. Ally gets up and runs to you and you bend down slightly so she can link her finger with yours.

“I pinky promise, Mumma!”

“Our little secret, yeah?” she nods. “Keep an ear out for your brother for me, bug. I’ll be downstairs.”

December 24th, 3:00 PM

“Love? ‘M afraid I got some bad news...”

As soon as Harry’s voice comes through on the other line, you can tell whatever news he’s about to share with you won’t be what you’re wanting to hear.

“What is it?”

It’s silent for what feels like entirely too long. You get up from your position on the couch next to Ally, telling her you’ll be right back. After breakfast, she convinced you to watch Toy Story with her, which quickly turned into a whole Disney movie marathon.

“Not so sure I’ll be able to make it home.”

You’re not sure if it’s his calm tone that bothers you, the fact that you didn’t want him to go to Los Angeles in the first place, or simply the fact that you and your children missed him terribly and haven’t seen him in nearly a month–– but your mood changes from relaxed to undeniably outraged in three seconds flat.

“You’re kidding.” Your tone is sharp, venomous. Harry once again takes a moment before responding, knowing that the current tone of your voice means he’d best proceed with caution.

“‘M not, love. I woke up early and everything to try and get this sorted out, it’s 7 AM so I was gonna try and catch an early flight––”

“I told you I didn’t want you going to LA,” you cut him off, voice rising slightly. “You knew how bad the pandemic was getting there. I told you this would happen.”

“What do you suppose I do then, Y/N?” His tone is becoming equally as sharp. “Y’want me to tell ‘em, “Sorry, I don’t give a fuck about the travel restrictions. My wife wants me home so let's make it happen!” ‘S that what you want me to do?”

“Don’t be a smartass, Harry,” you spit. “I’ll give the phone to your daughter and you can tell her you won’t be home in time for Christmas, then.”

“Y/N…” his tone is calm again. Fearful. “Don’t make me do that.”

“She woke up early to write a letter to Santa to tell him she wants you home by tonight, Harry,” your tone softens as well. “Even Olly has been asking for you. Swear his new favorite word is ‘dada’.” He laughs at this as do you, and the shared tension that was present just minutes ago dissipates. 

“Just… lemme try a few more things before I tell her, yeah?”

“Harry, it’s already three here,” you gently remind him. “Even if you do make it home today, she’ll be asleep by the time you’re home. I think you just need to tell her.”

Your husband sighs, knowing you were undeniably correct. “Alright. Give Allison the phone, please.”

December 24th, 8 PM

“Almost time for you to head to bed soon, yeah Allybug?” Your daughter lets out a loud sigh in response, not shifting her gaze from the television to you. Ever since Harry told her he wouldn’t be home in time to eat cookies with her, she’s hardly said a word. She’s never experienced a Christmas Eve without her father so understandably, she was missing him tonight.

You shift Olly, who was falling asleep nursing on your lap, into a different position so you could face your daughter directly. From your new position, you can see just how tired she looks. 

“‘M not sleepy, Mumma. Gonna stay up and wait for Daddy,” she informs you of her new plans. “When Daddy is home that’s when it’s time for bed.”

“Ally, remember what Daddy told you on the phone earlier? Santa won’t come unless you go to sleep.”

“I don’t wanna sleep,” she’s quickly starting to grow upset. “Not until Daddy tucks me in!”

You purse your lips, not wanting to argue with your headstrong daughter when your son was so close to drifting off into his nightly milk coma. Turning your attention back to the movie that was quietly playing on the television, you decide to drop it for now and try again later.

December 24th, 9:05 PM

Not more than an hour later, Olly is upstairs in his crib fast asleep whilst Ally is still laying on the floor in front of the Christmas tree, fighting sleep. She was determined to stay up until her father walked through the front door, and you knew getting her to agree to go to bed was going to be a battle and a half.

“You’re not ready to go to bed yet, Ally?” Her eyes fly open once she hears you addressing her.

“Not yet, Mumma. ‘M not sleepy yet.” Her words are a little slurred due to the exhausted state she was in. You hum in response.

“Could’ve sworn your eyes just shut for a minute there,” you pause for a second to see if she’ll look your way. “Must’ve just been my old lady eyes playin’ tricks on me, y���think?”

“I wasn’t sleeping!” She immediately defends herself, frown lines indenting her forehead. “Can we drink more hot chocolate?”

You knew if you wanted your daughter to fall asleep within the hour, another sugar rush wasn’t the best idea. You instead offer her a hot cup of sleepytime tea and she excitedly agrees once you tell her it’s her father’s favorite type of tea to drink at bedtime. You place her down on the kitchen counter while you fill the kettle and wait for it to whistle.

“What are you looking forward to the most from Santa, bug?” 

Her eyes light up at your question. “Well, I really want a new bike! ‘Member Mumma? How I asked him for a pink bike? And I also want a cool swing set! Since we haven’t been able to go to the park in so long,” her smile falters and she looks down at her dangling feet. “I want Daddy to come home the mostest, though.”

Your heart feels like it’s going to break in two upon hearing your daughter admit that Harry being home would be the greatest gift of all. “So do I, lovebug. He’ll be here in the mornin’ to watch you and your brother open all the gifts Santa got you though, don’t you worry.”

For everyone’s sake, you hoped that was true.

December 24th, 11:50 PM

Sleep wasn’t coming easy. 

You finally got your daughter to bed at around ten o’clock and waited thirty minutes before laying out your children’s gifts. It took much longer than it usually did considering you had to do it all on your own. Harry was usually the one to quickly assemble the larger toys while you laid everything out around the living room. 

Despite it taking longer than desired, you were proud that you got it all done without waking your children up. Consequently, that meant you were now left all alone with your thoughts considering you had no more tasks to occupy yourself with. 

You kept contemplating calling Harry, but you weren’t sure if he was busy on set or not. Surely he was immersing himself in work to distract himself from the fact he would not be spending Christmas with his family. 

Deciding you may need a cup of the sleepytime tea you offered Allison earlier, you quietly get out of bed and open your door, sock-clad feet padding softly against the wooden floors. It’s unnervingly silent in your home–– the tea kettle coming to a boil being the only source of noise. You keep unlocking and re-locking your phone, finally deciding to call your husband to see how he’s spending his day. It goes to automatic voicemail.

You assume the reason for this must be that he’s busy filming on set and set your phone down with a sigh, standing on your tiptoes to retrieve a mug from the cabinet. You mutter a slew of curse words under your breath intended for Harry who always puts the mugs up far too high even though you tell him not to.

Right as you begin pouring the now boiling water into your teacup, the faint jingling of your front door causes you to startle so badly that you nearly drop the kettle on the ground. You try to think back to everything Harry ever told you to do in the event of an intruder but your mind goes blank from fright. Deciding to use the scalding water as your weapon, you slowly creep towards the door, your only plan being to fling the water on whoever it was as soon as they got the door open. As soon as you hear the lock click, you flick the lid open that covers the spout and draw your arm back.

“Shit––”

“Harry?”

Your husband jumps slightly, his eyes blinking rapidly in an effort to adjust to the dark living room. You reach beside him and quickly turn on the light, shakily letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. He looks exhausted, his hair is an absolute mess, and his eyes are red from sleep deprivation–– but he’s home. You set the tea kettle down on the coffee table and fling yourself into his arms, breathing in the scent of the man you haven’t seen in a month. He drops his bags at his feet so he can properly embrace you, pulling you into him.

“Merry Christmas, darling,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head and stays like that for a moment saying nothing, just breathing you in. “Missed ya so fuckin’ much.

“How? I thought…” you trail off. “You said that they said…”

Harry laughs quietly. “Remember what I told ya? I said to ‘em, ‘Don’t give a fuck about your travel restrictions! M’wife wants me home.’” You laugh at him, knowing he was far too kind to talk to anyone that way. 

“Yeah, okay,” you reply sarcastically. You pull him in for another hug, placing wet kisses along his jawline. “I’m so happy you’re home. The kids are gonna be over the moon, especially Allison.” Harry hums, surveying the room.

“Looks like you did a good job in here, Mrs. Claus. See ya even assembled some toys all by yourself,” he quirks an eyebrow. “Were you jus’ pretendin’ not to know how to do it all these years so I’d be stuck with all the hard labor?”

“Maybe.”

He pulls you back into him, tickling your sides. “My sneaky girl,” he bends down so his lips are level with your neck and sucks gently, causing you to let out a quiet moan. You see his eyes land on the tea kettle that was sitting forgotten on the coffee table. “Making a cuppa? Can I have one? ‘M freezin’.”

“I can think of something else we can do to get you warmed up,” you reach for his hands, interlocking his fingers with yours. “If you know what I’m gettin’ at.”

“Hmm…” Harry releases one of his hands from your grip and taps at his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “Not too sure I can say I know what you’re sayin’. Maybe you should just tell me?”

You frown. “You’re really gonna make me say it, huh?”

“Y’know I’d give you the entire world if you asked me for it. All you gotta do is tell me what you want from me and it’s yours–– ‘m sure you’ve known that since the first day we met, though.” Harry takes a step back, crossing his arms across his chest. Even in his thick winter coat, you can see the way his biceps flex, and it makes you even more feral for him.

“Fine,” you say quietly, feeling yourself start to grow shy under his intense gaze. “I’m kinda... in the mood.” You say it so softly that it would most likely be inaudible to Harry if he wasn’t standing mere inches away from you. Harry throws his head back in laughter and you quickly shush him, not wanting any of your children to wake up.

“In the mood? C’mon, pet,” he uncrosses his arms and reaches for one of your hands. “Tha’s not tellin’ me what you want from me. Tell me exactly what you want, lovie.”

“You know what I want, H,” you tell him with a hint of annoyance in your voice. “It’s been a month. Yanno I want you to fuck me, why are you makin’ me say it?”

Harry gives you a shit-eating grin. “You jus’ said it. I didn’t make you say anything.”

You roll your eyes at his immaturity, already in the process of lifting your nightshirt (one of his old t-shirts that’s become just a little too tight on him) over your head. “Are we gonna get to it or not? Because if not, I’ll just go back to makin’ myself some tea and call it a night––”

Harry takes half a step towards you and reaches up to cup your face, colliding his lips with yours. His lips are a little chapped and taste of his favorite rose lip balm. You feel your body relaxing into the kiss, knees going weak as he walks you back onto the couch.

“You’ve been eatin’ up all the sugar cookies, haven’t you? Can taste it on ya. Thought those were for Santa,” he’s pulled away from you to examine your face. “A bit naughty of you, wouldn’t ya say?”

“Please stop referring to yourself as Santa when we’re about to have sex, Harry.”

“You’re not bein’ very kind to the person that’s about to go down on you, are you?” He sucks harshly on the valley between your breasts, wanting to be sure a deep-colored bruise will appear on your skin later. “That’s okay. It is Christmas, after all. ‘M in a giving mood.”

“Stop talking and get to it then.”

Harry slides off the couch and onto his knees in between your legs, gently kissing your thighs. “Cute pair of undies–– s’like you knew I was comin’ home tonight.” Before you can respond Harry’s fingers are tugging at the waistband of your underwear, eager to get them off of you. He presses light kisses to your core, mumbling about how much he missed the smell of you and how sweet you tasted. 

One hand is resting across your stomach while the other one is in between your folds, spreading you open. You try squeezing your thighs around his head, overwhelmed by the feeling of your husband’s lips around your clit after being away from him for so long, but he removes his hand from your stomach and pushes your thighs back apart.

“Feels so good,” you’re breathless, tangling your fingers in Harry’s hair as his hollowed cheeks begin to suck more roughly on your clit. “Missed you so much. Missed this–– us.” 

Harry pauses momentarily to look up at you. “I know, angel. God, do I know.” He attaches his lips back on you, swirling his tongue around your clit as you  choke back your moans. The hand that is holding you open moves down to toy at your slit as he wordlessly checks to see if you’re okay with his fingers being in you. 

“Please,” you say softly, encouraging his next move. He spits on his index and pointer finger before slowly sliding both of them in you, immediately curling them up. “Oh, Harry. Fuckin’ love when you do tha’...”

“Know you do,” His response is curt, simple. He’s focused on the task at hand–– getting you off. He uses the hand that’s lying across your stomach to rub tight circles on your clit, sensing you’re nearing your orgasm from the way you’re starting to clench around him. “Such a good girl fo’ me, darlin’. Gonna make a mess on my fingers in a second, aren’t you?”

You nod as you try to control your breathing and the loudness of your moans. The last thing you wanted was for your daughter to come down to inspect the source of the noise. “Fuck, Harry.” 

“Come on, darlin’,” he gently pinches your clit, causing your body to jolt at the sensation. “Gimme a good one. A lil’ welcome back gift for me, hmm?” 

Your hips are bucking up to the rhythm of his fingers slipping in and out of you as your orgasm quickly approaches. “Har, I’m close…” it comes out sounding more like a warning than a statement. He moves the two fingers he has inside of you in a back and forth motion, coaxing your first orgasm out of you.

“Tha’s my girl,” he whispers, not stopping his movements even as your back arches as your first orgasm rolls over you like a giant wave. “Givin’ me a good one jus’ like I knew you would. Jus’ like you always do. M’ sweet girl.” As you’re starting to still, Harry pulls his fingers out of you and holds them up to your mouth, instructing you to suck them clean. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows so you can properly lean in to steal a kiss from him and notice a rather sizable tent has formed in his pants. Harry gives you a sheepish grin as he palms himself, hissing from the feel of his palm against his cock.

“Want me to do somethin’ about that?” You scoot over on the couch and pat the spot next to you, signaling for your husband to sit beside you. He lifts himself from his seated position, stretching his legs out a bit before plopping down beside you.

“Are you offerin’ me a blowie?”

“I mean, yeah?”

“Can we skip that an’ you can jus’ ride me instead? Think I’d quite like that.”

“Oh you would, would ya?”

Harry nods and unzips his pants, taking himself out. He licks his hand and gives himself a few pumps. “Still on birth control, I’m assuming?”

You roll your eyes as you move to straddle him. “Only been gone for a month, Harry. Of course ‘m still on it, you goof.”

“Can never be too careful. I don’t think now’s a good time for another lil’ one, do you? Think we should at least celebrate Oliver’s first birthday before we try for another one.” His hands are on his hips as he lines you up over his cock, helping you slowly sink down. You missed the burn of him which was even more intense than it usually was considering it’s been a while since he’s taken you.

“I think you’re right,” you reply. You rest your head on his shoulder while you adjust to the size of him, needing to take a moment to yourself before attempting to move. After a short adjustment period you begin rolling your hips, grinding against him in a way that was also bringing pleasure to your clit, still swollen and sensitive from your last orgasm.

Harry’s eyes are fixated on the way your breasts bounce in front of him, the way your stomach slightly jiggles each time you crash back down onto him. His lips are caught in between his teeth; you’re hoping he doesn’t break any skin so you don’t have to hear him whine about how badly the bruise hurts him later.

“Ridin’ me like your life depends on it,” Harry mutters. “Fuckin’ love takin’ you like this, angel. So fuckin’ deep.”

You simply hum in agreement, brain far too foggy to form a coherent sentence. Harry notices your movements starting to become smaller, lazier, so he puts his hands on your hips and decides to take over. He’s thrusting up into you like you’ll up and run away from him if he doesn’t give it his all. He cups your face with one hand and gently guides you towards him, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your lips.

“Fuck, H,” your eyes are squeezed shut and your wrap your arms around his neck, feeling your second orgasm quickly approaching. “Rub my clit please, almost there.”

Harry’s fingers immediately come down to rub at your slick nub, not faltering his relentless pace in the slightest. “Clench around me again, lovie,” his voice is higher than usual, whiny, and you know your husband is just as close as you are. “Love when you do tha’, jus’ need you to do it one more time.”

You do as he wishes once more, knowing once he cums you’ll be directly behind him. Harry lets out a string of expletives as he releases inside of you, pulling you tightly against his chest as he rides out his orgasm. You continue riding him, not slowly down as you chase your own release next.

“Harry,” you’re in a trance-like state, chanting his name over and over as you bring yourself over the edge. “Harry, fuck!”

“That’s my good girl,” he says quietly, rubbing your back as you rest your head on his shoulder while you catch your breath. You feel him beginning to soften inside of you so you lift yourself off and lay back on the couch, legs still shaking. It’s quiet for a couple of minutes as the two of you reveal in the afterglow of your orgasms, Harry gently running his fingers along your leg.

“Round two in the shower?”

December 25th, 6:42 AM

“Mumma! Santa came and he left lots of toys–– Daddy?”

Harry lets out a dramatic “oof!” as Ally jumps onto him, pulling the covers back. Her eyes are wide and she giggles are Harry pulls her into one of his infamous bear hugs, placing kisses all over his face.

“Mornin’, love bug! What’re you doin’ up so early?”

“It’s Christmas, Daddy! Santa came!” she sits back on her feet, a confused look on her face. “Did Santa bring you on his sleigh last night after me ‘n Olly went to bed?”

“Y’know what? He told me to keep it a secret, but he did,” Allison gasps in response to his news as she processes it, placing a little hand over her mouth. Harry sits up and gets out of bed, scooping her up in the process. “How ‘bout we go make Mum a cuppa before we see what Santa got for you and Olly? Tha’ sound good? Let’s let them sleep for a while longer, hmm?”

As you hear them exit the room you take a second to reflect on how lucky you are to spend another Christmas with you beautiful family before drifting back off into a deep, albeit short, sleep.

[j-amespotter]

★ cardigan - s. b.

“i knew you’d miss me once the thrill expired.” 

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

x. x. x.

Summary: Your relationship with Sirius is on the rocks, but you loved him and at the end of the day, he was always there. For your own happiness, something had to change. 

Genre/Warnings: angst, alcohol, language, toxic relationship 

Word Count: ~3k

A/N: this took a lot, and i mean a lot of energy. not sure how i feel about it (i am my worst critic) but i really didn’t want a pushover protagonist. ps... communicating with your partner is hot! let me know what you think (and if you think i should make a taglist) :) 

masterlist

“Ravenclaw girl this time. Blonde… I think I recognize her. Couldn’t see the front of her robes, she might be one of the fifth-year prefects. You know I’m terrible with names. Ask James, he finds it hilarious.”

“You should work for the Prophet, Lils,” you said, without looking up from your toast, which was becoming more and more tasteless with every bite. “What were they doing?” 

“Talking,” answered Lily pointedly. “He ended the conversation fairly quickly when he saw me looking, though.” 

You sighed. This discussion was becoming too routine for your liking, most often with Lily, occasionally with Remus. “Well, if they were just talking, then I don’t see the issue. Lily, it is early. We have double Potions this morning. I really don’t want to deal with your weird suspicions about my boyfriend right now.” 

If Lily sensed your underlying irritation, she chose to ignore it. “I just think you deserve better, that’s all. I mean, James–” 

You finally turned and stared defiantly into your best friend’s vibrant green eyes. “Lily, I hate to break it to you, but James is the exception, not the rule. Just because he’s some angel on earth doesn’t mean all boyfriends are like that, and that’s not even considering the fact that he’s been hopelessly in love with you since second year…” 

Huffing, Lily picked at the fruit off of her plate. “Okay, I get it. I won’t bring it up again.” It was sweet how much Lily cared. James doted on her day and night. It would have been easy to forget about her friend’s love-related quandaries. But that was Lily Evans – always considerate of others.

Truthfully, you were tired. You knew what ‘talking’ with Sirius Black entailed. It did not make you feel as secure as you indicated to Lily. As time went on, it was getting increasingly harder to defend Sirius’s overly-careless behavior. If he wasn’t chatting up girls in random corners of the castle, he stood you up on your scheduled study dates in favor of detention with James. There was only a little comfort in the fact that he wasn’t always like this. If he was, would you have even dated him? Deep down, you knew that as much as Sirius was a thrill-chaser, he was incredibly capable of being a loving boyfriend. For that reason alone, you bore the incredibly painful motions of being in a relationship with him. 

He briefly reminded you of his better qualities when you opened your Potions textbook and felt a feathery kiss on your neck. “Guess who?” whispered Sirius sultrily into your ear. 

You couldn’t help the automatic flush that made its way onto your cheeks. “Hmm… is it Remus?” you whispered back, stifling a giggle. 

“Don’t tease,” he grunted before planting a swift kiss on your cheek. He plopped onto the chair next to you and faced you with a lazy grin. “You look disappointed, love. I’m afraid your usual Potions partner is a bit preoccupied at the moment.” He gestured across the room, where you spotted Lily practically hanging off of James’s lap, distracting herself until the start of her favorite class with his lips. 

“They’re hopeless,” you commented airily, in an attempt to disguise your envy. You felt Sirius’s gaze burning into you. “Missed you at breakfast this morning,” you added in a casual tone.

“Oh, well, you know–” 

“No, I don’t know,” you interrupted, bitterness leaking from your clipped voice. You always let Sirius off too easily. “But I certainly can’t wait to hear your ready-made list of vague excuses. Please, do continue.” There. He had it coming. He deserved for you to throw him off track.

“Baby, it was nothing,” assured Sirius rather predictably. “Just Pippa asking for help with Transfiguration. Honest.” He placed a hand on his heart in mock sincerity, which only angered you further. 

Nevertheless, you chose not to argue. He was incredibly brilliant with his words. There was no way he would understand your plight. Instead, you absentmindedly flipped through your Potions textbook as Slughorn finally entered his unruly classroom. 

Sirius seemed uncharacteristically bothered by your lack of response. With a half-glance at James and Lily, he entwined his fingers into yours. “They’re in their honeymoon phase, you know. You really can’t compare.” 

“There is no comparison, Sirius. James prioritizes Lily. I can’t remember the last time you prioritized me,” you whispered. There was a finality in your tone that you hoped he would hear. It was the most you were willing to discuss the matter. 

Sirius Black was a lot of things, least of all oblivious. He gently squeezed your hand. Silently, he slipped his fingers out of yours, choosing to follow your lead and not pursue the issue any further. 

A part of you was proud of the fact that you finally found it in you to voice your concerns to him, but another larger part dreaded the irreversible distance it put between the two of you for the rest of the day. You weren’t necessarily avoiding each other. Though his smiles were significantly more tender, he seemed reluctant to talk, let alone touch you.

Sick of the mental torment you were subjecting yourself to, you stuffed your unfinished Charms essay into your bag and headed to your dormitory, choosing to retire for bed early. Mid-yawn, you spotted a single red rose on your unmade bed. You didn’t have to read the attached note to know who it was from but felt your heart thudding against your chest as you unfolded the small piece of parchment. 

I’m sorry. I love you. 

There was no signature, but you could recognize his meticulously-slanted script anywhere. You stared at the note adoringly before pressing your lips to the corner of the crumply parchment and marking it with the remnants of your lip gloss. 

Suddenly, you were no longer tired. Skipping down the stairs, you found yourself wishing for a certain map that would tell you the exact location of the only person you wanted to see.

Fate seemed to be on your side when you saw him in the common room, his head bowed as if he was praying. “You’re here!” 

He gazed up at you, his shoulders relaxing when he noticed the smile on your face. “I’m really–” 

You didn’t let him finish. You kissed him hard, throwing your arms around his neck. You felt him smile against your lips. Reluctantly, you pulled away from him. “Don’t worry about it. I was being silly.” 

Sirius’s grin widened. “You’re quite low maintenance, y’know. I thought it would take at least a week and a hundred roses. And if not roses, then daisies, sunflowers, peonies… I was ready to pull all the stops. For future reference, a good snog is all it takes to win me over.” 

You laughed heartily, though you struggled to keep up with his train of thought. You always appreciated his good-natured ability to poke fun at the gravest circumstances. “I just missed you.” 

“Me too, darling. I’ll do better this time, I promise.” 

☆

True to his word, Sirius showered you with a level of affection that could rival James’s for Lily. He spent every spare moment with you in his bed, sneaking into the kitchen for secret dinners, and pushing you against bookshelves in the back of the library, homework-be-damned.

On Tuesday night, you sat on the Astronomy Tower. You glanced at your watch, realizing that Sirius was nearly an hour late. Your eyelids were drooping shut. It had been a long day. Everything in your brain felt scattered. You could’ve been catching up on the mounds of schoolwork you were now falling behind on. Sirius… Did he say midnight? Did you hear him correctly? Maybe he meant for you to pencil it in. Maybe he was hurt. Was it Remus? You stared at the sky, peering at the crescent shape of the moon. It taunted you. Stop kidding yourself. He’s not coming. 

Just as you were about to call it a night, Sirius stumbled into the Tower and onto the floor. Startled, you helped him up. “There you are! Are you alright? I was so worried… Are you drunk?” 

His grey eyes shone in the soft moonlight. The cloudy expression on his face paired with the sloppy grin he sent your way spoke for him. “Lost track of time… we snuck into Hogsmeade,” he slurred. “Rosmerta slipped us some firewhiskey. Here, I brought us a bottle...” He reached into his robes, only to come out empty-handed. “Uh-oh… finished it. Sorry, baby.”

You processed his words very slowly, realization dawning on you with the weight of heavy bricks. “Un-fucking-believable.” 

“Hey! We’re all of age.” He threw up his hands in surrender and widened his eyes innocently. “Next time, darling. I promise.” 

“It’s not about the fucking drink, Sirius! You’re here so you obviously haven’t forgotten that we had plans tonight! I don’t care if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade, but you should’ve told me. I’ve been waiting here like an idiot for an hour. I’m exhausted!”

“Told you,” he grumbled, now irritated, “we lost track of time.” 

You stared at him, unable to comprehend his complete shift in attitude. “Whatever,” you said finally. “I’m going to bed.” 

Spinning on your heels, you swallowed the lump in your throat as you prepared to march away from him with your chin up. Before you could take too many steps, however, a firm hand grasped your wrist. The intensity of the force pulling you back to him felt so otherworldly that you could hardly believe it was a wasted Sirius. 

You had a fleeting thought of pushing him away but instead tilted your head so he could pepper kisses onto the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry,” he whispered over and over again, between his fluttering pecks along your jawline. 

His lips found yours. His hand released your limp wrist as his fingers gently trailed up your arm. “So beautiful,” he murmured, gazing directly into your eyes. You practically melted as your body fell into his. Like always, his arms were ready to catch you, drunk or otherwise. 

☆

“No Sirius yet?” asked your mother, sipping her drink cheerily.

You refused to look her in the eye in fear of giving something away. “No, not yet. Should be here soon, though.” 

“Better be,” said your father, slipping away from a party guest. “He’ll miss cake.”

It was your parents’ twentieth-anniversary party, an occasion made doubly special as their one and only daughter was now officially a Hogwarts graduate. You had planned the party and made Sirius promise that he would not only attend, but also arrive early to help greet your guests as your boyfriend. 

You knew that your parents did not initially approve of Sirius, but as your relationship strengthened, so did Sirius’s standing in your family. Now, post-Hogwarts, you were desperate to not only show your parents that the two of you were committed to one another but also feel yourself that your love would endure the many challenges of adulthood. 

As the last of your family friends trickled out of your childhood home, you failed to hide your disappointment at his loud absence. Like many months earlier, your mind see-sawed between possibilities, some pathetic, others worrying. You were in the middle of a war, after all. You always believed Sirius’s recklessness would be his downfall. 

Fortunately or unfortunately, your worries subsided when you saw him slip into the parlor with a present in hand and a sheepish smile directed at you and your parents. “Happy anniversary! Sorry I’m late, you won’t believe– hey, where’s the party?” 

“It’s over,” you announced bitterly. 

Your mum and dad sensed the tension and tactfully exited the room. “We saved you some cake, dear,” your mother said to Sirius, after politely thanking him for his present. 

“So,” you started as you heard your parents’ footsteps fade away, “where were you? Actually, don’t answer that. Let me talk first. This was important to me, Sirius. You knew that! What will I say to Mum and Dad? Don’t I matter to you at all? Is it always going to be like this?” 

“Slow down,” whispered Sirius. “I’ll explain everything – just listen! I was with James, okay? We were only mucking around on the bike. I was on the way, I swear! But then these Muggle Aurors – police, they’re called – they started chasing us! We were getting away but these three blokes – Death Eaters – caught up to us. Long story short, we got into quite a scuffle and…” He looked at you in an attempt to gauge your reaction. 

Your mouth hung open as you absorbed his story. Regardless of your anger, he presented a legitimate case for himself that you could not quash. “Death Eaters? Thank Merlin you’re alright. How on earth did you get away?” 

“I’ll tell you everything. Your mum mentioned something about cake?”

You stood on your toes, wrapping your arms around his waist and laying your head on his chest. “In the kitchen,” you answered softly. “I wish you would be more careful.” 

He kissed your temple. “Don’t worry,” said Sirius dismissively, “I handled it, didn’t I?” 

☆

“So, what do you think?” 

You and Sirius were standing in the middle of his new studio flat. Primely-located and newly-furnished, it was the picture-perfect bachelor pad. Sirius now had a place to call his own, thanks to a bountiful inheritance from his Uncle Alphard. The walls were bare and the lighting dim, adding an overall sensuality to the atmosphere. 

“It’s nice,” you remarked sincerely, smoothing his plain black bed sheets. You peeked into his wardrobe, smirking to yourself as you noticed it was half-empty. “Lost the rest of your clothes, babe?” 

“No,” answered Sirius quietly. “It’s for you.”

“What is?” 

“The closet space. It’s for your clothes.” His voice was barely above a whisper. 

“For when I come to visit,” you amended automatically. 

You turned to see Sirius scratching the back of his head. “No, for when you live here. With me.” 

“W-What?” Your mind was reeling. You leaned against his side table to steady yourself. “Me? Move in with you?” 

“Well… yeah,” said Sirius as he slowly regained his signature confidence. “We’ve been together for ages, seems about right. Besides, James and Lily are getting a place together.” 

You did not understand why you weren’t over the moon. It was what you always wanted from him – a tell-tale symbol of his otherwise-flaky commitment to you, a sign of your sparkling love. It was the beginning of the next chapter of your lives, and you were meant to start it together. On paper, it was perfect. There was no explanation for the sinking feeling in your stomach. 

Suddenly, the words that would never come were on the tip of your tongue. The answer was clear as day. “No.” 

“What?” 

It was an extremely difficult task to catch Sirius Black off-guard, a feat you used to motivate your argument. “No, Sirius. I won’t move in with you.” 

Shock was written all over his face. “What the hell? Why?” 

“Because… you didn’t even ask me!” 

Sirius stared at you blankly for a long moment before bursting into laughter. “Alright… (Y/N), will you please do me the honor of sharing an address with me? Is that it, then? Shall I get down on one knee?” 

“No, Sirius. That’s not the point,” you said firmly. “The point is that you didn’t ask me. You just assumed that I would say yes – don’t interrupt. I know we’ve been together for years, but can’t you see? You make me so incredibly happy and yet, so unbelievably unhappy at the same time. You’re so good to me, and then so horrible, and then amazing again… I can hardly keep up anymore. I’m a fucking doormat and I’m sick of it! It’s humiliating. I’m tired of feeling humiliated in front of people I care about. It’s starting to become too high a price of being in love with you.” 

You ended shakily, afraid to look at him. When you dared, you saw him wearing an unfamiliar expression. The silence washed over you both for an eternity. You had the horrible thought that perhaps this was it. Perhaps, you crossed a line. Maybe he hadn’t noticed how broken you both were, how broken you were, and now… well, he couldn’t unsee it now. You were over. Without a word, you headed for the door with your head down.

“Wait,” shouted Sirius hoarsely. “Don’t go. I-I’m not sure what to say to make you stay.”

“Try being honest,” you whispered weakly. 

He swallowed nervously. “Okay, here goes. I know that I haven’t put enough effort into this relationship… I know that. I realize that I take you for granted and that you deserve better. I don’t blame you for thinking that. I would never have blamed you for thinking that. But here’s the truth – I am so far gone when it comes to you, you have no idea. I am so in love with you. I think about you morning, noon, and night. And the thing is, here we are, fighting for Muggles and Muggleborns and the good of the world… but above all, I am so utterly afraid of losing you. I think that’s why, actually. That’s why I keep you at arm’s length. I don’t think I mean to, but it just happens. Because I’ve never met anyone who loves me as much as you do, not even my mother. Especially not my mother. I’m torn between keeping you close and pushing you away because the truth is, you’ll always deserve better than me. And I’ve always been afraid of you realizing that.”

His truth was careful but sincere. Your hand slipped off the doorknob. Still, it was not the first time Sirius had rendered you speechless. “How do I know you mean it? That it’s more than just words to you?”

“Let me prove it to you,” he said meaningfully, grey eyes glistening. 

You took slow steps toward him, and he embraced you with the hope of filling all the gaps he may have left open. “Okay,” you said, your voice muffled into his shirt. “Just… leave the closet half-empty for a little while.” 

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Little Witch | The Mikaelson Boys

Hey lovelies, I’m finally back with some Mikaleson Brothers content. I’ve had this idea for a while and rewrote it about a thousand times. I’m not sure if I love this but I needed to just finish it. I feel like it’s not that great but regardless I’m giving it to you. It’s super fluffy and a quick burn romance but, hey, who doesn’t like kissing me you just met you know? In all seriousness I hope you’re all doing well. I know life is really off right now and I hope this helps. All my love <3 until next time loves!

Description: Hogwarts and The Originals crossover, disbelief must be suspended for this one as we all know some of this doesn’t add up, soulmate AU

Pairing: The Mikaelson Boys x Female!Hufflepuff!Reader

Warnings: there are no warnings

Word count: 6.7k

Tags: FLUFF

Tag List: @activist-af , @hellotvshowtrash , @firebirdsalvatore

(Photos not mine but mood board is :) )

“There you are, sweetheart,” her gentle voice breaks through you dreams, pulling you from the same scene you’ve grown used to seeing for the last couple weeks, “you’re going to miss dinner sleepyhead.”

You awake to a familiar picture: your books sprawled across a desk in the middle of the library and a fiery redhead with a soft smile holding a semi-crumpled cardigan towards you. Her eyes twinkle with laughter and familiarity. This isn’t the first time Arabella has found you asleep after you told her you were going to be studying. When you look down at your divination textbook you notice a small pink smudge from your cherry lip gloss. You wipe your fingers around your lips, collecting the rest of your smeared makeup.

You stifle a yawn, stretching your limbs out with a soft groan, “shoot, I fell asleep again. What time is it, Ari?”

“Quarter to six, hun,” she reaches out to brush some fallen hair out of your eyes, “we should really get a move on. Are you feeling okay?”

You nod, this time the yawn interrupting any intention to answer that you had. Your head buzzes lightly with the remnants of your dream. For weeks you’ve felt something on the horizon, something meant just for you. Three pairs of brown eyes and the warmest feeling in your chest. It’s the same feeling you’ve been waking up with every night, if not a touch stronger this evening. You don’t mind it though, it layers a warmth to your bones that this winter in the castle has stripped from you.

“I haven’t been sleeping too well lately is all,” you let Arabella help you slip your cardigan back on, straightening it and your tie, evening the yellow and gray stripes. 

Her hands still against your shoulders, her concerned green eyes meeting your own half open ones, “still having those dreams, sunshine?” 

You nod once more, sagging slightly from the weight of your tote when she loops it over your shoulder. Your skin tingles with slight electricity, lulling your already fuzzy brain into a deeper haze. You tug your sleeves over your hands, scrunching your fingers into a fist to try and regain some awareness.

“Hmm,” Arabella pushes the same strand of hair from your forehead again, removing her headband and putting it on you instead to keep your unruly strands in place, “remind me to make you some tea before bed. I have some herbs from the greenhouse that might help with them. Let’s go get some food into you first though, ok?

She links her arm through yours, pulling you alongside her towards the dining hall. The corridors are mostly empty, spare a few behind students. Much like yourselves, they hurry in the same direction, following the wafting smell of roasted chicken and pumpkin pie. You can’t help but shiver as you watch them rush, feeling like someone forgot to tell you something. As if everyone knows a secret that you very well must have snoozed through.

“Hey Ari,” you tug lightly on her sleeve to get her attention, “why is everyone in such a hurry? Did I miss something?”

She looks confused for a moment, her button nose scrunching tight before her mouth falls open, “oh yes, that’s right! I forgot to tell you! Some seventh year prefects overheard McGonagall talking about some exchange students from Ilvermorny. They’re supposed to be here for dinner!”

Your skin crackles with electricity, the air static with anticipation, “Ilvermorny? They’re from America?”

She nods her head cheerfully as the two of you approach the towering doors of the dining hall, “I know, it’s crazy right?”

You can hear the buzz of activity emitting from the hall before you cross the corridor, a dull roar that lights you with an even mixture of excitement and nervousness. 

“They certainly think so,” you motion to the giggling fourth year girls who scurry past you, their chatter no doubt about the possibility of Hogwarts’ newest additions. 

The current coursing through your body sings when Arabella pulls you through the doors. The dining hall is a flurry of activity, each house no doubt wondering if they’ve gained any new members tonight. The thought of some new Hufflepuffs warms your heart. You haven’t had any new faces around in ages it feels like. You let her lead you to a few seats left open near the front of the hall, next to the small stage.

You fall into your seat with a sigh, graciously accepting the plate of food Arabella hands you. How she made it so quick you aren't sure. Magic probably, that would make the most sense. When you glance over at her she has her wand out, levitating food onto her own plate. She always puts you ahead of herself, something you can't help but feel bad about sometimes. Regardless, it warms your heart immensely to be lucky enough to have such a caring best friend. You catch her eye and she passes you a loving smile and a wink before lowering her plate. 

As you take the first bite of your pumpkin pie, ignoring the nudge you get for eating your dessert first, Headmistress McGonogal taps her wand to the podium in front of her.

“Students,” she clears her throat, waiting for the noise in the great hall to quiet, “as quite a few of you have already heard by now,” she searches you all with a glint in her eye, a small smile on her lips, “we have a few students joining us.”

The great hall buzzes at her admission, a current running through the entirety of the student body and, most of all, you. Your head feels like it’s spinning. Like you’ve just drunk a litre of fire whiskey and that if you stand up there’s a good chance you’ll fall right over. You drop your fork but the clatter it makes doesn’t register with you as much as it should. Arabella looks over at you, clearly worried, and raises her eyebrows, placing a warm hand on your back. 

As you go to shrug your shoulders at her, the doors to the great hall open once more, “ah, and here they are! Please, everyone, show them your warmest welcome. They have come a long way, all the way from Ilvermorny in the United States.”

McGonogal continues to speak about Hogwarts and its connection to Ilvermorny but her speech is drowned out by cheering from all over the great hall. Well, you’re pretty sure it is. Your pulse is thundering so loudly in your ears that you can’t hear much of anything at all. Arabella stares at you still, growing more and more scared as the seconds pass. You think you say something, you open your mouth at least, but whatever words come out of your mouth don’t reach your ears. Arabella tightens her grip.

You close your eyes, squeezing them shut tightly, desperately willing your senses to go back to normal. It almost works too but then you breathe in and are hit with three scents so hard that you almost vomit. Not because they’re terrible, though, they’re anything but. No, you almost puke because of how fast you’re swamped in pine and buttery leather and the entire damn sea and how quickly it makes your heart rate spike. Are you having a heart attack? What is going on?

When you open your eyes the great hall is spinning and you know for a fact that you’re the only one experiencing this carousel ride. You have to get out of here. You push away from the table, standing on legs much too shaky for your own good. Arabella calls your name and it sounds like she’s behind a thick sheet of glass, one you can’t break no matter how hard you slam against it. The trees and leather and sea wraps around you again and your knees almost give out. There’s only one thing you can think to do and you don’t hesitate to do it. 

You run like hell. 

No. Scratch that. You run like hell is chasing you and, well, maybe it is. Maybe hell is a person, or people, perhaps even three people, and their footsteps pound down the corridor behind you so loud they echo through your chest. Your kilt whips around your legs, your hair flying behind you as you clear the corners as they come. You can feel them, whoever they are, gaining but slowly. You can make it, you know you can.

It’s midwinter, the thick of February, and yet you feel like you’re wading through lava. The halls should be ice right now but your blood is scorching you from the inside out. You pull the sweater from your chest as you run, not thinking twice before dropping it, never stopping. Your skin is charged with electricity and you want to scream and tear your heart out but you can’t, not now. You feel them like they’re right on your heels, the triplet of scents swirling furiously around you. You need to get outside. Now. 

You make it to the courtyard, practically leaping off the cement steps, but a hand catches your arm midair and you stumble. You see the ground hurtling towards you in slow motion, the cobblestone path laughing at you. You squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for the stones to bite into your side but they never do. Instead you’re wrapped in pine, two warm arms pulling you into a firm, hot chest. 

You thought your skin was electrified before but that was nothing compared to what is now. Everywhere your body touches the person holding you prickles with static. You can almost hear your flesh crackle, each one of your veins roaring so loud that all you can hear is your blood rushing through you. It’s like a tsunami, waves of fire and power and fucking pine rolling over you unrelentlessly. You aren’t quite sure if you’re still breathing.

You feel another pair of hands on your back, rubbing up and down, spreading the fire like butter over your shoulder blades. Your body reacts on it’s own, your back arching into whoever it is behind you, your head falling onto a shoulder that smells like summer at the beach. 

A part of you is screaming to run. To jab your elbow into their stomach and fight like hell. However, against all of your better judgement, the feeling is fading and fast. Hands skim down your arms lightly and you fight the delicious shiver that crawls up your spine. You don’t realize you’re still clinging to the first person until your fists squeeze around the cotton of their shirt. Their hands hand loosely off your hips and you don’t even want to acknowledge how much you like it. 

Instead of fighting, you pry your eyes open, only to stare directly into strikingly familiar brown eyes. Your breath catches in your chest, your head still against his shoulder. He leans closer towards you, blonde hair falling down his face slightly. It looks entirely soft and you squeeze your hands tighter, resisting the urge to touch this stranger’s hair. His scent, that overbearing ocean, wraps around you again. He definitely doesn’t feel like a stranger.

“Hi love,” his voice is soft and lulls you deeper into his chest, his nose skimming the arch of your cheekbone, “you’re lucky we’re fast. That could have been quite the fall.”

He chuckles lightly and your cheeks flame, the noise like the wind chimes you hung in the greenhouse your fourth year. His laugh hits you in the gut and radiates to every inch of your skin, cooling the flames but also concentrating them lower. Too low. Your traitorous core sets on fire from the mixture of his musical laugh and mesmerizing eyes. Merlin, you don’t even know his name.

You look away from him but you can’t escape his eyes no matter how hard you try, looking directly into an identical pair of warm, brown eyes. The man in front of you, the one with his hands squeezing your hips, is also frustratingly familiar. He’s tall, his chest, the one underneath your fingertips, is broad and heaves up and down with every breath. Your body, being the wanton force of nature she is, longs to have you wrap your legs, and every other part of you, around the man in front of you. When the blonde behind you wraps his arms around your stomach, reminding you that he’s still there, you want to do the same to him as well.

Memories prickle the edges of your mind, the dreams you’ve been having for weeks now flashing behind your eyelids every time you blink. The warmth in your bones and the molten brown eyes. The same electricity that is burning through your chest and head and core, only now it’s a million times stronger. You shake your head. Not at the man in front of you but at yourself. No way are these the men from your dreams. That’s impossible, Right? And besides, there were three eyes in your dreams.

“There you guys are,” a voice, steadily approaching and as slow and tantalizing as honey, pulls your attention away from the men surrounding you, “I can’t believe you left me to explain what was happening to McGonagall.”

You meet the third pair of eyes with an audible gasp, his sharp leather scent curling around you despite the distance between the two of you. It sinks into your skin and puts you in motion, like the potion you needed to break whatever paralyzing spell you were under. You pull yourself so suddenly from the two men that they don’t have time to catch you, putting some much needed distance between all four of you. You force yourself to ignore the way your heart aches already. Your hand finds the wand in your kilt pocket. Stupid girl, longing for men you don’t even know. 

You find your voice but only enough to mutter hastily, “Were you chasing me? Aren’t you supposed to be meeting, like, the whole school right now? What in Merlin’s name is going on?” 

The newest male takes a step towards you, his eyes drawing up and down your body, reigniting the heat that has been slowly subsiding and lingering on your hand wrapped around your wand. He smirks at you, like he knows something that you don’t and, honestly, he probably does. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth. His hair is dark brown and just as touchable as the previous two. You squeeze your fist tighter.

“One question at a time, darling,” he takes another step and you tense your shoulders instinctively even though your body is fighting the urge to run to him, “we’ll tell you everything. Can we go inside first, though? You look like you’re freezing. Is this yours?”

His question isn’t really a question, in his hands is your cardigan. He picked it up for you? You let your shoulders sag slightly and your grip loosen. He doesn’t know you, why did he bother picking it up?

“I-,” you release the wand slowly, “yeah that’s mine. Thank you.”

He’s right about the cold, now that you aren’t sandwiched between the other two men the chill nips at your fingers and legs. You go to take your sweater from him but he holds it open, beckoning you to turn around and let him put it on you for you. You sigh but oblige, tucking your arms into the soft wool with his help. His hands smooth down your arms once you’re settled, the familiar sparks following their path. You’re head squeezes with confusion and you want to scream if only to release the pressure.

You turn in his hands, meaning to break his hold but only ending up closer to his chest, “what is going on?”

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer to his chest. The ache in your heart eases drastically and you breathe in the leather once more. Merlin’s sake, this is exhausting. Even so, your limbs feel lighter in his arms. His eyes burn into yours and you don’t even try to look away, letting him extract whatever information he wants from you. You’re almost sure he can read every thought flashing through your eyes.

“Can’t you feel it?” His hand brushes your cheek, your skin buzzing on cue, “feel us? Like there’s a string pulling you to us, right? We feel warm, don’t we, and you want to be near us. You feel like you know us but you don’t know how or why.”

You find yourself nodding along to the words of a man whose name you don’t even know yet, your hands finding their way to his chest. 

“Who are you,” you turn to meet the other two, your eyes wide, “all of you.” 

The second man, the one who caught you, steps forward, holding out a hand for you to take. You aren’t sure why but you look back to the male in front of you, the one with his arms still tight around you, for approval. He nods, letting his arms fall almost reluctantly. When he releases you, you’re quickly pulled back into the pine scented chest. You don’t like how easily your body moulds to his, how his body seems to have some sort of claim on yours. How all of their bodies do.

“Elijah,” he rests his chin against your head, caging you against a chest that feels too much like home to make any sense, “I’m Elijah. You were just talking to Kol and Klaus-”

The hands, the same ones from before, once again rest on your back, drawing a traitorous sigh from your lips, “is right behind you, love, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Your heart squeezes dangerously at his words, letting them fill you with the warmth of his promise. Even if your rationality doesn't accept it for the immediate truth it is, every other part of you does. You pull out of Elijah’s arms and turn to the ocean of a man behind you, throwing your arms around his neck without a second thought. He, too, feels like coming home. He takes no time squeezing you against him and burying his face in your neck. You feel hands behind you move your hair away from your neck and then a nose drawing up the exposed bumps of your spine. 

“I don’t understand any of this,” you mumble into Klaus’ shoulder, “I don’t understand what any of this means.”

“Of course you do, darling. You can feel it in your bones,” Kol pushes his nose against your temple, his lips skimming your ear before tugging the lobe between his teeth.

Merlin. His teeth on your skin sends heat pooling in the pit of your belly. You tighten your arms around Klaus, biting back an embarrassing moan as he laughs again. This time the sound echos through your chest and wraps around your heart, grabbing on and refusing to let go. Kol’s lips skim down your jaw, nipping lightly at your throat in a way that is completely inappropriate for a man you just met but you don’t care right now. 

Arms wrap around you from behind and you sink back into them, letting Elijah spin you and haul you into his chest. Your head is spinning from how quickly you’re being passed around by men you don’t know. Your heart stings slightly, the comfort you feel in the large male’s arms screaming at you. Perhaps you don’t know them but your body has been waiting centuries for them and is more than ready to reunite. You don’t hesitate to wrap your legs around him. 

“Baby,” your heart stutters and his pupils expand like he can hear it, “do you mind if we go back to our dorm before anyone sees us?” Elijah glances over your head, searching around the courtyard before landing back on yours, “This is a lot to explain to one person, let alone the whole school.”

Your cheeks flame for the millionth time and your head whips around, searching the courtyard yourself for any prying eyes. You breathe a quick sigh of relief when you don’t see anyone. He’s right and, besides, you really are freezing now, your exposed legs two icicles.

You smile gently at him, savouring the way his eyes draw to your lips, “that’s probably a good idea.”

You go to unwrap your legs from his hips when he stops you, his hands tightening around your back and thighs, “may I?”

Your eyes widen, your hands stilling on his shoulders, “you want to carry me?”

He leans his forehead against yours, his nose brushing yours gently, “very much so, baby.”

Your heart feels like it restarts, kicking your pulse into overdrive. You don’t trust yourself to speak, your entire body engulfed in pine and flames like a forest fire that you never knew could exist. You just nod, your arms snaking around his neck and pulling you flush against his chest. You can feel every breath he takes, closing your eyes when he begins walking. 

The hallways, thankfully, feel empty and you don’t open your eyes, letting yourself sink into Elijah’s chest like you’ve been doing it your whole life and this isn’t your first experience being held by someone as large and strong as him. Your fingers, laying on the back of his neck, can’t resist shuffling through his hair. You’re already in his arms anyway, so what’s the harm. Just as you thought, his hair is soft to the touch and mesmerizing. You tangle your fingers through it, the last dregs of anxiety seeping from your bones. 

When he starts down a staircase that you aren’t anticipating you tighten your fingers, squeezing your thighs to keep from falling out of his arms. In turn Elijah releases a breathy groan, one that hits you directly between your thighs. When you open your eyes you’re met with a coal black instead of the warm brown from minutes ago. Your breath catches in your throat but not from fear, albeit it should be. You know you should be painfully afraid of this man, whom you barely know, whose arms are wrapped around you so tight it almost hurts, but you aren’t. Not even a little bit. 

Not even when he opens his mouth and you see two, very sharp looking fangs poking out of his gums, “Eli?”

You don’t know where the nickname comes from and, honestly, you don’t care. All you can think about is the irrational heat growing between your legs and his hands, once again squeezing your hips. Who is this man and why do you want him to press you against the stairs and do unspeakable things to you? You look over his shoulders at Kol and Klaus, whose eyes aren’t quite the same charcoal as Elijah’s but definitely not the sunshine whiskey that they were before. You have to bite your lip again to keep from squeezing your legs harder around Elijah. 

“Come on,” Klaus steps ahead of you and Elijah, glancing back over his shoulder and smirking teasingly, “I can hear people leaving the Great Hall.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him. How can he possibly hear the Great Hall from here? You glance back to Elijah, the sight of his fangs flashing through your mind. You shake your head, not wanting to think about any of this right now. You reach a hand up, cupping his jaw and running your thumb over his cheek like any of this at all is normal.

“Klaus is right, Eli. We need to figure this out before it gets around the school.” More than it already is, you add in your head.

The four of you somehow make it to their dorm and you breathe a sigh of relief when it’s segregated from the rest of the dorms. McGonagall probably gave them their own dorm to make them feel more comfortable. You’re just thankful to be away from the open space. You already know the entire school will be talking about what happened. Merlin why is it always you? You’re just a Hufflepuff, you didn’t sign up for any of this. 

Their dorm is magnificent. The doorway leads into a moody common room, surrounded with cozy browns and greens. The walls are lined with bookshelves and there’s a window looking out into the lake. The waves lap against the glass and you giggle as a few fish swim by, stopping to look into the room and then continue on their way. The room smells like all three of them. Like every plain of earth and sea and air. There are four doors leading to what you can only assume are their bedrooms and bathroom. Compared to your dorm, which you love but also share with five other girls, this place is an oasis.

Elijah sets you on an incredibly soft, brown leather couch and you pull your legs up, tucking them underneath you. Kol settles next to you, his arm resting on the back of the couch, behind your head. Klaus sits on your other side, pulling your legs from under you and over his lap, his hands rubbing circles on your calves. With your back now to Kol, you can’t help but let your head fall to the side against his arm, soaking in the warmth of his skin. The dungeons are colder than you thought they would be. How do the Slytherins do it? He laughs quietly, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you to lay against his chest. 

Elijah settles on the coffee table in front of the couch, leaning his elbows on his knees and staring at you with a look only slightly less hot than before. You hold a hand out for him, one he quickly takes, threading his fingers between yours, pulling your knuckles to his lips. Klaus’ hands are slowly working up your legs, now wrapped around your knees and steadily moving higher. You squeeze your eyes tight before opening them and staring at the ceiling, avoiding three pairs of brown eyes to the best of your ability.

You sigh gently, leaning into Kol’s hands as his fingers search through your hair, scratching at your scalp in a way that makes you almost keep your thoughts to yourself if only to ensure he doesn’t stop. But you need answers now.

“Okay, I’m serious this time,” your eyes train on a bookshelf, counting the books to keep yourself focussed, “who are you? You clearly aren’t like me, you aren’t witches, but you definitely aren’t regular people,” you suck in a breath, your eyes stalling on a thick book titled The History of Mythical Creatures, “so what, pray tell, are you?”

Your eyes stay focussed on the book but you don’t want to entertain the thoughts flowing through your mind. You had to read that volume in your seventh year myth class. Just because you’re a witch it doesn’t mean you’re used to the creatures you’re taught about. There’s a reason every student at Hogwarts takes eight years of defensive magic.

“You got us, little witch,” Klaus’ hands are above your knees now, kneading your exposed flesh with skilled fingers, “clever and beautiful. The perfect mate.”

Your eyes snap from the bookshelf, from the book that you know holds the answer to their identity, to the blonde lazily licking his own extended fangs. Mate. Did he just say mate? There’s no way he just said mate. Impossible. You’re a witch. As far as being mythical goes, you’re as close to normal as it gets. They, however, are something stronger. You can feel the power rolling off of them. 

“I,” your mouth falls open, your mind spinning, “what?”

Kol laughs from behind you, his chest rumbling under your back. He pulls your hair to the side again before capturing your ear with his mouth again. 

“You heard him, darling,” he tugs your earlobe between his teeth, pulling a tiny gasp from you as, “your ours. And, I hate to break it to you, but we’re pretty hard to get rid of. ”

Klaus’ hands squeeze right below the hem of your kilt, lighting your skin with the delicious sparks. If his hands weren’t there you would be squeezing your legs together for sure.

“He’s right, love, I’ve tried. Many times,” Klaus smirks at Kol in only the way an older brother could and it hits you.

“Oh, Merlin,” you close your eyes again, heat flaring across your face, “you’re brothers. All three of you are brothers. What is going on, Helga help me.”

All three of them laugh and Elijah kisses your knuckles again, “yes baby, we are in fact brothers. It’s been a long millennium.”

“Millenium?” You feel faint.

He laughs again and you wish you could pluck the sound out of the air and hold onto it for the rest of your life. When you look at him all you can do is smile and run a hand down your face. A thousand years, huh? Klaus’ hands trace lazy circles on your inner thighs as Kol’s lips find your neck, his teeth scraping your skin in a way that has you sinking even further into his buttery leather arms. When he bites down a touch harder you can’t help but wonder what kind of experience a thousand years would allow a person. 

A thousand years. Your chest stings unexpectedly as another thought hits you. It must be the day for that.

“I don’t think I’ll live a millenium. I probably have a few hundred years but a thousand? Not even close,” your heart stutters, a cold chill running over you, “You’ll all outlive me.”

Three growls sound in the room and you almost jump out of your skin in shock before you realize that they’re coming from them. Kol tightens his arms around you protectively as Klaus’ hands find your hips under your kilt, squeezing you like you just suggested you’re going to die tomorrow. Elijah drops from the coffee table, sinking to his knees in front of you and throwing an arm over your stomach. 

“You’ll be living a lot longer than that, baby, I assure you of that.”

You reach a hand towards Elijah, curling your fingers through his hair on instinct, “I may be magic, Eli, but I’m not immortal. It’s not the same for me.”

He leans into your palm, rubbing his cheek against your fingertips, “that’s an easy fix.”

Your head spins, the pieces connecting in your head as you stare into his serious eyes. For the first time all night a tinge of fear zaps your chest. Immortality is no joke.

“You want me to become like you?” You look away from him and Klaus, who nods in agreement with his brother, “You want me to become a-”

Kol nips the back of your neck and you try to ignore the pleasure rolling through you in the midst of the most serious conversation of your life, “a vampire, darling. You can say it. We’re vampires.”

The word echoes through you, bouncing around your head and lungs, fluttering in your stomach before finally settling directly between your thighs. Merlin. You sit upright quickly, pulling your legs from Klaus’ dangerously skilled fingers, and all but stumble over Elijah and the coffee table in order to put some distance between you and the brothers. You scrub your hands over your face, your entire body feeling more alive than it ever has in your short lifetime. But you know it can’t last.

You keep your hands over your eyes, letting the open air sooth you for a moment before speaking, “I’m just a witch. Just one witch and not even a good one at that,” you peel your hands from your eyes, opting instead to tug your hair, “I’m more of a farmer, honestly. I spend all my time in the library or the greenhouses. I’m not mate material. I’m definitely not,” you swallow thickly, your throat closing all of a sudden and without your permission, “vampire material. You have the wrong girl.”

As soon as you say the words they feel wrong but they’re already out of your mouth and you have to live with them now. For a long moment nobody says anything. It’s just you standing in front of them, your eyes refusing to open and your hands ripping at your hair. Your legs tremble beneath you and it feels like your heart is trying to crawl out of your throat. If it can’t be with them then it would rather stop beating altogether. The cold air of their dungeon dorm nips at your legs and fingertips painfully and you revel in the feeling of something other than the torrent of emotions that you’ve been battling for the better half of an hour. 

You feel a rush of air in front of you, forcing your eyes open just in time to see Kol standing in front of you. You open your mouth, ready to let even more words that you know you’ll regret out, but you find that you can’t speak. Not because you don’t want to, though, but because Kol’s mouth is now crashing into yours and, gods, does it ever feel like you’re breathing for the first time. Kol’s mouth is oxygen. Like before this moment you were dead and his lips are life. You grip his shoulders, your fingers digging into the taught muscle to keep yourself upright against this force of nature. 

His hands wrap in your hair and he tugs gently, swallowing each moan like it’s candy and he can’t get enough. Your hands crawl from his shoulders to his hair, doing the same to him. He groans, a sound completely different from Elijah but so similar at the same time. When his tongue finds its way between your lips you see stars. Your blood sings like you’ve walked through a magnetic field, your veins buzzing with a foreign kind of power. This time you don’t feel like you’re home, you know you are.

Kol pulls back a fraction, his lips brushing yours while he speaks, “you feel that?” His hands move to your cheeks, your skin like a current where he touches you, “I know you do, I know you feel me in your veins, darling. I don’t have the wrong person. Fate doesn’t make mistakes. You’re perfect for me.”

Your eyes widen and you push back the swell of emotion rising in your chest.

A pair of arms wraps around you from behind, a riptide pulling you into an ocean of a man, “me as well, my little witch. Besides, I quite like farmers. Tell me, can you grow strawberries?”

You try to stop yourself from sagging against his chest but you can’t and you don’t actually want to. His head falls on yours as if he’s been doing it for years.

“Pumpkins,” you whisper. You don’t know what else to say, knowing full well you aren’t ready to answer the other questions, “I grow the best pumpkins in the school.”

Klaus’ chest rumbles like a cat purring against your back, “pumpkin pie it is then, love.”

You feel a hand close around your arm, pulling you from both Kol and Klaus and into a pair of arms that rival the dark forest. Elijah lifts you against his chest, giving you a moment to wrap your legs around him before he walks the two of you to the window. He looks out in the water and it eases you knowing that you don’t have to answer to his molten brown eyes.

“I know this is a lot to take in right now, baby. I know you’re scared and tired, I can feel it. You don’t have to make any decisions right now. In fact, I’d rather you didn’t. But just know that we’re here because something stronger than time itself brought us to you. No mistakes were made,” he catches your eyes through the reflection of the glass, “I’m ready for whatever challenges this brings. I’ve been ready for a thousand years, ten lifetimes, and I would wait fifty more for you,” he pulls you further up his chest, pressing his forehead against yours, “just think about it. That’s all I’m asking.”

You can’t stop yourself from pressing your lips against his, catching his bottom lip between yours, “graduation.”

He pulls back, his eyes wide and his eyebrows scrunched together, “what?”

You pull his face back to yours, stealing another kiss that he doesn’t hesitate to return, “I just need until graduation. I need to finish my last year here, it’s my home. After that, I’m yours.”

He crushes you against him as soon as the last syllable leaves your lips and you let yourself giggle freely. He looks at you in awe, a smile blooming across his face like he just won the lottery. Kol and Klaus are next to you in an instant, their faces almost mirror images of Elijah’s. Your heart soars at the sight of the three boys you met less than three hours ago who you’ve just promised the rest of your life, and longer, to. It sounds ridiculous still but nothing has ever felt so right.

“Well, brothers,” Klaus’ eyes shine happily, “it looks like we’re going to be here longer than we thought.”

[dropofgoldensun]

omg hiiiii i am here from cat (@luvdsc) wondering if you could offer any advice about college apps 🙏 especially about the uc piqs? thank you so much i hope ur doing well!!!!!!!!

yes yes hello friend !! 💝 miss cat directed you to me because i did my college apps last year !!! (yikes one year passed already?? why does that feel ages ago 🤧)

first of all, congratulations on making the decision to apply to college !! i know it’s been hard for a lot of people our age to figure out the college situation recently, so i’m proud of you for choosing to take the extra step this summer to buckle up and write those essays 💞

i’ve compiled a few tips on answering the PIQs (i was actually in the middle of typing this up when i received your ask haha), but some of them can be applied to other essays, as well !! they’re all under the cut (because, unfortunately, being brief is not my forte) 😊

(and for reference, the prompts i chose were #2 (creativity), #6 (subject), #7 (community), and #8 (anything) !!)

tip #1: understand the prompt.

before you even begin writing, it’s important to understand what the question is really asking. for the UC PIQs, this will look different depending on which four prompts you decide to do.

in question one, for example, they want to know about your skills in leading others, but notice that they’re also curious about your resolution abilities and teamwork experience. or in question two, they don’t want to know that you paint and that you love painting—they could be asking how resourceful you are, how you think outside the box when you have an idea.

once you know the question you’re going to be answering, you can move on to brainstorming!

tip #2: write down three (3) key takeaways.

these are like the most basic, not-even-a-sentence answers you would give to each question. so for me, in response to question eight (“what do you believe makes you stand out as a strong candidate for the UCs?”), my answers were perseverance, courage, and character. i had a story about that, so i wrote about my experience with martial arts.

i recommend you do something similar. decide on three things that you want to communicate to your audience, and write them in the footnote of your document. your goal is to cover all three points so that, if anyone were to read your essay, they would walk away understanding those three things about you.

i found this strategy really helpful for keeping my essay streamlined while writing—if a sentence didn’t relate to any of those main points, i would cut it since those words would take up valuable space in the word count. stay focused on what needs to be in this essay, and if you have extra words left in the word count later, you can add those details back in.

and once you’re done with your essay, make sure to refer back to your takeaways and check that you covered all of them sufficiently!

tip #3: highlight your stories.

i sent cat an ask a couple days ago with a few pictures of my response to an end-of-year college counseling survey that referenced this tip (you can find it here). basically i said that, when choosing what topics to write about, pick things that interest you! if you get excited talking about it, your audience should get excited about reading it, because they’ll pick up on the passions you have and then everyone’s excited !!! :D

i’ll tell you a secret: everyone you meet, everyone you see, has countless unique experiences that few others may have. me? i spend hours making mashups out of kpop songs. i earned my black belt years after a traumatizing experience during training. i get russian harry potter and spanish dr. seuss books from the library. and i created a collaborative online google photos album for my classmates that now has thousands of entries. although these aren’t necessarily unique to only me, they’re still special enough to the point where, when you put them all together, you get a better image of the person i am, and what i value.

so find a story, a habit, a hobby that makes you different, because i believe that everyone has them. give them some food for thought, or that one-liner that sticks in their brain and won’t go away. and remember: these stories don’t all have to be extraordinary—they should be about people or moments of special value to you, because that’s what matters.

personal tip: when i was brainstorming ideas, i decided that the best way to get ideas out there was to go on a rant (because sometimes it helps to just have a conversation with yourself !!) and i recorded myself, so i could replay what i said !! this was so so crucial to me finding my own voice for writing essays. notice the way you word things when you talk—a good line or two may make it into the final draft :)

i found it helpful to read sample essays as well! they give a lot of great ideas on the kinds of topics people write about. (also, it’s kind of fun, because who doesn’t love a good story?)

but the people reading your essay won’t be there to just enjoy your story; what they really want you to do is to tell them what you learned from your experience. they want to know whether you’re teachable and willing to grow both as a student and as a young adult. so make sure to take note of the life lessons you learned, experience you gained, character you built, etc.

minor tip on ending your essay: if you’re telling a story that happened in the past, then close with what you learned and how you can apply that to your life moving forward. if you’re telling a story that has no definite end yet (like a passion or dream you have), you probably don’t have everything figured out (and you can say that in your essay!), so it might be better to close with your hopes for the future.

tip #4: ask your family for help.

peer-editing is one of the most effective ways to detect errors and inconsistencies in your writing, because, after staring at your essay for so long, you might gloss over glaring contradictions. for all of my essays, i printed them out and asked my parents to help me revise them. we’d meet every other night (or every night, depending on how much time was left) to review and discuss improvements.

i actually kept some of those printed drafts (only the first and the final ones for comparison), and let me tell you from experience—you’re probably going to have a lot of drafts (i think the most i did was seven? but you don’t need to go that far!). this part of the process does take some time, so remember to be patient and kind to yourself :) these essays won’t happen overnight!

enlisting the help of others also helps keep you accountable. one of the struggles many seniors face while writing essays is just... setting aside time to do them. and even though the constant reminders from your parents will definitely get repetitive and a bit stress-inducing, i can tell you from personal experience that i’m so glad they did; otherwise, i don’t think i’d have my essays done in time :’)

while writing college essays is challenging, your family will be there supporting you each step of the way. chances are that they’ll have their own pointers to pass on to you, since they probably remember doing this process themselves! and, out of everyone in your life, they probably remember the most about you (because you probably don’t remember much when you were four or five), so they might have a couple starter ideas for topics when brainstorming. you can rely on them for their advice and their experience.

tip #5: self-editing.

here’s the part that takes the longest time.

use action words. this is probably something you’ve heard all throughout elementary school where they didn’t like you to say “said” because it was “boring”… but honestly, the difference between “doing my own version” and “infusing it with my personality” could go a long way. also, use words that you would actually use in an essay—then it’ll have your own special flair, and not sound like it’s taken from some stuffy 80s textbook!

here are some of the words i used (once again, you shouldn’t use these words if they don’t sound like something you’d write/say): potential, overlay, wrestle, launch, analogous, weave, infuse, experiment, outlet, revel, fascinate, satisfaction, pursue, expand, distinction, capture, range, archive, engage, beyond, build, adversity, cultivate, preserve, commit, explore, convey, naturally

also, be on the lookout for repeated words. i once wrote an essay without noticing that i used “hope” three times in the same paragraph. don’t do that! use synonyms :) personally, i tended to run short on synonyms, so i always kept a tab or two open on my computer reserved for searching up new words.

side note: unfortunately, during my search for synonyms, i discovered that thesaurus.com just didn’t give me what i was looking for. i highly recommend using wordhippo instead; it has so many more options and they’re grouped by the different definitions of your word! i found the synonyms i needed really quickly and it was very satisfying!

avoid the passive voice! my teacher gave me this tip for theses or any other college-level writing. here’s an example of the passive voice: “there was a large part of me that wanted to turn back.” that’s twelve words taking up precious space in your word count! instead, say something like, “i considered turning back.” you’ve just freed up eight words :)

tip #6: final revisions.

this is the step where you fine-tune your essays. meet that word count.

read your writing out loud. does it sound like you? it should. every writer has a different voice, and you need to ensure that yours is pervasive throughout your essay. feel free to use contractions—not only do they reduce your word count (this was a good thing for me, since i had a problem with getting under 350 words), but they also give a more casual tone to your essay, as if you’re telling a story to someone in the room.

next, pretend to be an admissions officer and have someone else read your essay to you. do you get excited hearing about this student who shares your name? if you do, there’s a good chance the real admissions officers will love your essays, too. this also gives you a chance to review to your essay as a whole. pay attention to the overall flow. is there a clear beginning and end? do you resolve the issues and overcome the trials you brought up? listen to it as if it’s a story, and take this time to enjoy what you’ve written. you worked hard!

final thoughts / encouragements.

oh my goodness, did we make it to the end? honestly if you did, thank you so much 🥺

okay but despite my relatively optimistic tone throughout this post, i’m still going to be honest with you—the college essay writing process is difficult. it requires you to look inside yourself and analyze the “why” behind some of the things that you love, and that isn’t easy to do at all. it’s intellectually and emotionally challenging, because not only do you need to use so much energy writing, but you also have to dig deeper to understand yourself, and that’s not easy, either.

but i wanted to encourage you, too. no matter what you may think of yourself at 12am, 2am, 4am writing these essays, believe you have a personality that others love and will love when they meet you. you are an interesting person with unique experiences who deserves to share your thoughts with others. you have so many people behind you, supporting you during these next few months. and when you find that you can’t write any more, remember to take time to care for yourself. have a warm shower. go to bed early. i could go on and on about why sleep is good for your brain but i’ll spare you the details in this post 😉

one last thing: keep the bigger picture in focus. remember, by december or january, you will be finished with most of the application process. that’s no small accomplishment. you can do it. 💝

i really hope you found tips that you were looking for, and that they’re applicable to your own PIQs and other essays !! if you have any other questions, feel free to send in another ask (i promise my response won’t be this lengthy LOL) 💘💓

oh, and if you feel comfortable enough reaching out about anything in particular, i’m only a DM away 💕 i wish you the best of luck on writing your essays and i hope you enjoy your final year of high school !! 💗🌸💟💖

[lunarimpact]

Let me talk about Rati and Kama for a minute here, just a short minute. And this is written out of frustration for people who just gloss over Kama for uwu they’re just a tsundere and just another Sakura-face. It’s unfortunate that Kama is forced into the body of Sakura when we could have just gotten him on his own, in his own body, especially if they’re going to pull that Beast card. If Kama/Mara is a Beast, they don’t need someone else’s body to exist, especially as a Servant, as proven by Kiara.

I also want to talk more about Rati, who is rarely brought up in Kama's lore within fgo. It's pretty lame, honestly, given how very few Gods can exist without their partners for very long, but also given just how amazing the history surrounding the Gods of Love is. Their stories are so interwoven that to get to Rati, we need to start with Kama. 

If you didn’t know by now, the story of Kama’s birth is a lot. In more ways than one, it’s an insult to Brahma, but according to everyone I've asked, he’s always been just like that.

Skipping much of the backdrop of the myths I know best, we start with Brahma, the drifting God of my brain is too big and full of too much. He has noticed that his sons are outperforming him in the creative department, and that's no good. But they have help, you see, they have wives to help channel all of that creativity through. So, with the help of his sons, he creates the most beautiful woman in existence. To quote Anuja Chandramouli (Kamadeva, The God of Desire):

In all of creation, there was nothing as exquisite as her. She was the product of primordial desire, every inch of her seeming to cater to that tender yet terrible emotion. Her name was Sandhya.

She’s perfect. Desire made flesh. And she inspires lust within her father-creator and her brother-creators. And it’s sinful. There’s no if’s, and’s, or but’s about it. Brahma knows this, and so do his sons. They know that if they make a move on her, if they give in to their carnal desires, well, they would give into eternal damnation. So, whilst two of the brothers beg for some divine intervention, i.e. Shiva, their creator-father figures he need only make someone take the blame.

Enter, Kama. 

Brahma focuses and wills into being this young God who is a near match to Sandhya, as beautiful and desirable. He is a creature born of lust, after all, so why wouldn’t he be? And he is so overjoyed to have been created, thought up into existence within the primordial world. He’s young, naïve, and so full of life. And he’s a scapegoat and he doesn’t even know it yet. Brahma names him the God of Love, gift him this gorgeous bow and lotus blossom arrows. They will inflict a love-lust frenzy on whoever gets hit. See where this is going?

Well, overcome with his purpose, our good boy Kama does his thing. He starts letting those arrows fly, and by sheer plot armor, does not strike his creator-father, his brothers, or Sandhya. Sandhya, who is so aware and horrified by the feelings of her creators, that she too is praying for divine interventions.

Enter Shiva, taking a sharp left. We don't know where he was going. What he was doing. He's just here now. And he's here to do his favorite thing: bully the ever-loving shit outta Brahma. This will have consequences, mind, but that doesn't matter. He's going to humiliate Brahma, his sons, and mozy off. That's just what Shiva does. (That is not all that Shiva does.)

But during this matter, Brahma is cursed to bear Shiva's mark, Kama is cursed to die at Shiva's hands by Brahma, and Sandhya immolates herself for shame. It's horrifying beyond words. But it doesn't end here, no, because Vishnu needs to get involved. After all, Shiva's made his appearance, fucked off into who knows where, Brahma is seething, Kama is freaking out, and there's still a problem. Brahma needs a wife. So Vishnu takes the essence of Sandhya, and splits her in two. He makes, from her essence, the Goddess Saraswati, and gifts her to Brahma. She's Vishnu's daughter now, so no incest my dudes, it’s all good.

As for Kama, he takes all that desire and promises him a wife. The problem's solved. Reality preserved, etc etc.

How Rati is born changes from story to story. Sometimes Vishnu fathers Rati, sometimes Shiva, sometimes it's Brahma and his sons, and sometimes it's Daksha alone. A lot of the time it involves sweat. But always, always Rati is born from desire. And rarely is there ever a kindness in how she came to be.

But Rati loves Kama, and he loves her back. Loves her with all his being and beyond. Their existence is interwoven. They exist for each other. Love and Desire go hand in hand. But Love and Desire are fated to be torn from one another, after all, there's still the matter of a petty curse. And we know where this is going because Shiva's flame is still burning Kama.

But what happens to Rati?

In the Bhagavata Purana, grief-stricken Rati goes mad with Kama’s death. She smears herself with her husband’s ashes, much like how Shiva covers himself in Sati's ashes. She rants, she raves, she screams and curses the Gods, the Heavens. She curses Parvati to have a barren womb, unable to give Shiva a child. She curses all the Gods who play a part in Kama's death.

In other versions, Rati, instead, performs meditative asceticism and severe penances for some forty days, during which Shiva and Parvati are wed. At the end of those days, Shiva's magnificent wrinkle brain works, and he understands why Kama disturbed his meditations, and he forgives all the Gods involved and restores the God of Love. (This is part of why Holi is celebrated.)

Of course, at some point Narada, the world's most annoying man-child-know-it-all (affectionate) aka Vishnu's No. 1 Fanboy and provider of all Vishnu facts, does bother Rati during her meditations, asking who she belongs to. And she snaps at him, rightfully so, but she's punished for this. Cursed, even. It's how she ends up getting her husband back in his incarnation as Krishna's son, Pradyumna.

[coffintownkids]

Alrighty! Ch. 32 is done and such brings an end to the 朝露 arc. I’m sure y’all remember the cute scene in The Untamed/CQL when WWX comes across a group of kids playing make-believe about the Sunshot Campaign. This is the chapter where that takes place. However, as previously mentioned, we’ve actually never met pretty much any of the characters involved first-hand. So this is again slowly filling the readers in about how the world perceives all these characters.

I couldn’t decide what part I liked best...So you get the entire scene! Very long post beneath the cut.

*EDITED* @weishenmewwx was nice enough to help me fix a couple of errors. Thank You!!!

The group of children stopped chasing it, then gathered together to start seriously wracking their brains over it, “What do we do since no one shot down the Sun? It fell by itself, so who’s the Leader now?”

One of them raised a hand, “It’s obviously me! I’m Jīn Guāngyáo and I killed the greatest villain from the House of Wēn!”

Wèi Wúxiàn sat on the inn’s front steps and watched on with great pleasure.

In games like this, there was boundless high regard for the Chief Cultivator Liǎnfang-Zūn. Of course, everyone would welcome playing that role the most. Although his background made people too embarrassed to speak of it, it was precisely because of it that him climbing to the highest position made people gasp even more in admiration of his achievements. During the Sunshot Campaign, he had acted as a spy for a number of years and had been a natural at it. He had run around in circles deceiving the entire Wēn Sect of Qíshān both inside and out, having them divulge countless secrets without even realizing it. After the Sunshot Campaign, he was fawned over in every possible way with terrific amounts of cleverness and an extreme variety of methods. Finally, he took the position of Chief Cultivator and became the person fully deserving of ranking first among the multitude of cultivation Houses. Such a life can be called legendary. If was playing, he would also want to try out for the part of Jīn Guāngyáo. Picking this little boy to be the Leader was just common sense!

So JGY is super well-liked by everyone, or so we’re led to believe at this point in the story. It’s mentioned in the novel very early on that he is JGS’s bastard, but it’s definitely pretty much glossed over and this certainly makes it sound like nobody cared about his “embarrassing” history. (We will come to learn this is, in fact, bullshit.) BUT, WWX does seem to think quite well of him.

Fun language bit about the “fawned over in every possible way with terrific amounts of cleverness and an extreme variety of methods.” The sentence uses 百般, 千般, 万般 to show the increase of how much praise got heaped upon him as 百=100, 千=1,000, and 万=10,000.

My other takeaway, which I think the show did a pretty bad job at conveying, was the passage of time and that JGY was actually with the Wēn Sect for years.

Moving on.

Another one of them protested, “I’m Niè Míngjué and I’ve won the most battles and have had the most captives surrender to me. I should be the Leader!”

‘Jīn Guāngyáo’ said, “But I’m the Chief Cultivator.”

‘Niè Míngjué’ raised his fist, “So what if you’re Chief Cultivator. You’re also my sān-dì, so you won’t see me running off with my tail between my legs.”

As expected, ‘Jīn Guāngyáo’ was rather well-suited at getting into character. He hunched his shoulders and ran away.

Sān-dì (三弟) just means third brother. AKA JGY was the youngest within 3zun.

Then another kid said, “You’re the one that died young.”

Since he had chosen to be a certain cultivation head, he naturally had been looking forward to being said cultivation head a little bit. ‘Niè Míngjué’ got mad, “Jīn Zixuān, you died earlier than I did. You had an even shorter life!”

‘Jīn Zixuān’ was unconvinced, “So what if I died younger? I was ranked Number Three!”

“Being ranked Number Three just means your looks were ranked Number Three!”

At that point, one of the little boys seemed tired of both running and standing, so he slowly walked over by the steps and sat down by Wèi Wúxiàn. He waved his hand like he was some sort of mediator and said, “Alright already, there’s no need to fight about it. I’m the Yílíng Lǎozǔ, so I’m the most awesome.”

Wèi Wúxiàn, “……”

He glanced down and, sure enough, the little kid was carrying a little branch at his waist that was probably meant to be Chénqíng.

There was actually a child pure enough to not bother arguing about good and evil. He was only debating the value of combat abilities and had willing taken up the honor of being the Yílíng Lǎozǔ.

Another kid said, “No way. I’m the Sāndú Shèngshǒu and I’m the most awesome.”

The ‘Yílíng Lǎozǔ’ rather understandingly said, “Jiāng Chéng! What can you do that’s better than me? When haven’t you lost to me? How is it a good idea for you to say you’re the most awesome? Aren’t you embarrassed?”

‘Jiāng Chéng’ said, “Hmph! How am I better than you? Do you remember how you died?”

Wèi Wúxiàn’s faint smile got wiped right off his face once his meaning sunk in.

It was like being jabbed with a highly poisonous needle without warning and it sent faint prickling pain throughout his entire body.

Oof. That is a lot.

The ‘Yílíng Lǎozǔ’ next to him clapped, “Look at me! On my left is Chénqíng, on my right is the Tiger Seal. Plus I have the Ghost General. There are none beneath Heaven that are my equal! Hahahaha…” He had a stick in his left hand, a stone in his right, and was laughing hysterically, “Wēn Níng, come out!” A kid in the back of the crowd raised his hand and weakly said, “I’m here…that’s…I want to say…during the Sunshot Campaign, I didn’t die, either...”

Wèi Wúxiàn felt that he couldn’t not interrupt.

He said, “Fellow cultivators, can I ask you a question?”

The children had never had an adult take part when they played this game before, let alone one that didn’t scold them and was completely serious about asking them a question. The ‘Yílíng Lǎozǔ’ was giving him a strange and guarded look as he said, “What do you want to ask?”

Wèi Wúxiàn said, “Why don’t you have any people from the Lán Sect of Gūsū?”

“We do!”

“Where are they?”

The ‘Yílíng Lǎozǔ’ pointed at a kid that hadn’t opened his mouth to say a single word from the start, “That’s him.”

Wèi Wúxiàn looked at him and, sure enough, he was completely fine-featured and looked like a charming child. He had a clean, white string wrapped around his forehead to serve as his head ribbon. He asked, “Who is he?”

The ‘Yílíng Lǎozǔ’ disdainfully curled his lip and said, “Lán Wàngjī!”

…Great. This group of children grasped his essence. If you’re playing the part of Lán Wàngjī you really ought to shut up and not talk!

Then suddenly, the corners of Wèi Wúxiàn’s mouth began to curl again.

That little poisoned needle got pulled out and he didn’t know what cranny it got tossed into, but all the stinging pain had instantly been swept away. Wèi Wúxiàn said to himself, “It’s both wonderful and strange. He’s such a stuffy person. Why does he always make me feel so happy?”

*yelling* Why does he make you so happy, WWX? Any guesses?

I’ve seen this translated as “boring” instead of “stuffy” so I’ll explain a bit. The word used is 闷 (mèn) which can be read as boring, so that’s not wrong. But, it’s a little more nuanced than that. It can also mean something “sealed tight” or “suffocate” or “shut indoors.” Like how a hot room without circulation can be called “stuffy.” But in English, we can use stuffy to mean someone that’s kinda old-fashioned and very stuck on being prim and proper. Which certainly is someone people might consider “boring”! I just didn’t think “boring” alone really captured it though.

Of course, this is when LWJ finally emerges from his Fortress of Solitude (after needing time to get through his Gay Panic.)

When Lán Wàngjī came downstairs, he saw Wèi Wúxiàn sitting on the steps and sharing a steamed bun with a group of children. Wèi Wúxiàn was eating his bun while directing two children that were back-to-back in front of him. “……There are currently countless Wēn cultivators before. They’re all armed and they’ve got you completely surrounded. Keep your eyes sharp. Yes, just like that. OK. Lán Wàngjī, pay attention. This isn’t the current you during peacetime. You’re covered in blood! Your killing intent is so heavy! Your expression is so fierce! Wèi Wúxiàn, get a bit closer to him. Aren’t you going to twirl your flute? Let’s see you twirl it one-handed. Have pizzazz. Do you know what pizzazz is? Come let me teach you.” ‘Wèi Wúxiàn’ made an “oh” sound and handed over the thin stick he was carrying. Wèi Wúxiàn rather skillfully and swiftly twirled ‘Chénqíng’ around between two of his fingers, causing the group of kids to whoop with excitement.

Lán Wàngjī, “……”

He quietly walked over and Wèi Wúxiàn saw him coming, so he brushed off the dust from his backside and called out his goodbyes to the kids. It had been so easy to just stand up and walk along the road with a smile. It was oddly like being drugged.

Lán Wàngjī, “……”

Wèi Wúxiàn, “Hahahahahaha, I’m sorry, Hánguāng-Jūn. I ended up sharing the breakfast I bought for you with them. I’ll buy more for us in a moment.”

Lán Wàngjī, “Okay.”

Wèi Wúxiàn, “How about it? Weren’t those two kids just now cute? Who do you suspect the kid with the string around his head was imitating? Hahahaha…”

He was speechless for a moment, then Lán Wàngjī ultimately couldn’t help saying, “……What exactly did I do last night?”

It definitely couldn’t have been anything simple. Otherwise, why did it make Wèi Wúxiàn keep laughing???

Wèi Wúxiàn kept waving his hand, “No, no, no, no, no. You didn’t do anything. I was just being silly, hahahahahaha…Alright, ahem, Hánguāng-Jūn, I swear I’ll talk business.”

Lán Wàngjī said, “Go ahead.”

Apparently WWX missed his calling and should have gotten into theater!

And poor LWJ is still panicking.

So now they’re off to Shǔdōng and we’ll be starting the Yi City arc next.

[cosmcther]

❛ i hate the way that i don’t hate you. ❜ [ that's no way to talk to your space mom Yuck >:( ]

Get those wheels turning || Prompt

     Well   that was certainly one way to break a calm and tranquil silence. Ever the one to speak her mind was Yuck, even when the ruminations that bounded about the brain weren’t the most... socially understood as kind. But for someone far more accustomed with the young warrior, it was clear as day that her words now were more praise than insult. And that fact alone should have caused for an overdramatic gasp at the very least.

     Instead? Rosalina let out a small chuckle, glossed lips pulling back into a coy smile. Light beats of laughter echoed out through the space and far beyond, bounding off of the walls like her voice itself had been given life to spare through as little as a giggle. “That’s quite the roundabout way of saying ‘you’re not so bad’ you’ve come up with, my dear.” 

     Cooking utensils were then gently released from the magical directions Rosalina was conducting. It was dinnertime, she was taking requests from all of the children aboard the Comet Observatory. Yuck posed hers, and the cosmic mother was hard at work to please the countless young ones under her protection. 

     Turn upon the heel, twist some dials upon an oven. Check the heat of the stove, pepper some spices upon a plate amidst culinary preparation. Twirl until a back is toward the counter, rest both back and arms upon the countertop behind her, and quirk an eyebrow upward at the young one. “To say it as though I were you, it would sound like something along the lines of... I simply adore the way I don’t hate you. If I were to say it the common tongue, I believe it would sound something like...” 

     A body crouches, then taking a knee so as to level herself to the other as best as a woman with her towering stature could. So long as she was near enough to reach out and rub small, warm circles into the back of the hopefully willing ‘rabbit’, she would be more than happy. It was all she needed to say  

     “I love you too~.”

[knybits]

THE HATING GAME — 1

PAIRINGS —

↳ kochou shinobu x reader 

SUMMARY —

↳ Geniuses within the same field yet rivals within each other’s eyes, your colleagues wonder when the sexual tension will break so that you two will become the department’s powerhouse couple so that they can enter you two into the couples contest against the other departments. Some things might have to be done by force.

WARNINGS —

↳ cursing, alcohol, smut  

AUTHOR NOTE —

↳ look bros,,, i KNOW that it’s supposed to be last name first then first name,,, but the setting here is like idk fucking harvard or oxford lets get crazy. basically youre not in japan and youre a big brain bitch youre welcome. also,,, please drink responsibly and ask for consent. stay safe :,)

[ Navigation ] 

—

It’s not like you always hated the genius that is Shinobu Kochou. 

Besides yourself, she’s the other shining diamond within the chemistry department. The transfer student from Japan that doesn’t let her language barrier hold her back. In fact, she might even be more fluent in English than you (which is dumb because it’s your mother tongue but hey, she’s the genius here remember?) 

Lilac painted nails with no chips and red glossed lips is Shinobu Kochou. Wrinkless lab coat and a face free of goggle imprints after an experiment is Shinobu Kochou. She’s pristine and a league above you (she might even be super rich but you could never find out.) 

Sometimes she would slip out Japanese phrases or mumble in Japanese under her breath, so you know that her voice sounds the exact same no matter which language she speaks. It’s sweet like honey- a complete trap- and it intoxicates those around her to do her bidding (she’s a witch and you’d be damned to be proven wrong because this bit of information will go down with you.) 

You’ve never spoken to her so you know that your dislike is misplaced. A mature adult would admit that this hate is more so envy, but fuck that. 

Shinobu Kochou is perfect, flawless, an angel, and you hate it. 

It doesn’t help that she would smile in your direction at times and wave a hand at you with nothing but kindness. You ignore her, of course, and your colleagues can’t fathom why you would walk past the princess without even acknowledging her. 

And yet, for some reason, you find half of your department on their knees in front of you. 

“Please date Shinobu! You’re our last hope!!” Your friend cries out, shoving a crummy “free beer on me” coupon she literally wrote up on a bright pink sticky note on her way over to you with 16 other people in tow. 

“You want me to do what?” 

Someone else steps forward to produce a flyer that another random department pasted up around the school. When you snatch the paper from them, the first thing you read is “department couple” and immediately decide to crumple the paper up. 

“Wait! You didn’t even read it!” 

“I’ve read enough,” you seethe, steam pour from your mouth as everyone cowers in fear of your sleep deprived self. 

“C’mon (F/n)!” Your friend whines, draping herself over you and grovelling at your feet. “All the other departments are taking part in it! Each department pitches in $500 per couple and then they compete! Whichever couple wins receives the whole pool of money for their department!” 

“Does everyone here even have enough money to pitch in $500??” 

Someone else pipes in, “For a chance at over $6,000? We’re willing to take it.” There’s a low murmur of agreement from everyone and you roll your eyes. Everyone begins to throw empty promises at you (about as worthless as the crappy pink sticky note in your hand) before you narrow your eyes into a deathly glare at the crowd. 

“There’s no way in hell you idiots will get me to date Shinobu Kochou. I’d rather an experiment blow up in my face than date her,” with those final words you storm away, lab coat fluttering the least bit for stupid dramatic effect and everyone is left speechless. 

—

You’re in the middle of heating up your cup ramen when your roommate (the one that “gifted” you a free beer coupon) comes home, shuffling in. She has a guilty look on her face that bleeds “this is just for show.”  

Araceli drapes herself across the counter for your attention but you decide not to pay her any mind, instead taking your cup ramen- fork stuck through the lid to keep the hot steam in- to the couch and turning the TV on. 

You have three minutes to find a show to watch, but that plan goes to shit when Araceli groans aloud for your attention. 

“What,” you snap and Araceli comes crawling over from the counter and into your side on the couch, her arms wrapped around your waist. 

“I feel bad-” 

“No you don’t.” 

She keeps going despite your rude interruption, “But everyone in the department decided to go to the club tonight. I owe you more than just one drink, so pleaaaassseee,” she bats her eyelashes at you (they’re incredibly long and you’re envious them.) 

Araceli’s puppy dog face always gets you to cave and you find yourself angrily shoving some half cooked noodles into your mouth. That response is enough for her to cheer, squeezing you even harder than she already is. 

“Your wallet better be prepared,” you quip as you resume a show you desperately need to catch up on. You don’t catch the mischievous glint in her eyes, yourself already pinned to the plot of your show as it does its job to empty your head. 

—

Clubs aren’t really your scene. 

You used to go to them often when you started out as a freshman in college, but it lost its charm by your junior year. Now you prefer drinking in your apartment, every month or so slipping back onto campus to conduct some random experiments to allow Araceli her time with whoever she brought home. 

There’s something about a club that lets you (loosely) compare it to a masquerade ball (loosely.) Music plays and alcohol burns so strongly within everyone’s systems that they can’t see the face of the person they’re grinding on. Oh, and within their respective timelines, you have to dress up for both a ball and a club. 

In one of your more scandalous outfits, you can’t help but check yourself out in the mirror before dipping because damn do you look HOT and everybody better take some fucking notes. You confidence shoots up when Araceli whistles the second you step out of your room, and the two of you drive to the club a couple blocks from the college. 

Before you two step into the booming building, Araceli waves wildly at her boyfriend with a bright smile. They give each other a quick kiss in greeting and a sudden thought crosses your mind. 

“Why don’t you two enter the contest?” 

Araceli tuts at you, wagging a finger in disappointment before saying, “See? This is why you have to read the whole poster dear roomie. The couple has to be two people from the same department.” Unfortunately, her boyfriend is from the modern literature department (how they met, you have no clue.) 

The three of you make your grand entrance and everyone within your department (making up most of the club right now) scream with delight before ushering you over. A shot of tequila is pushed into your hands and you smile before downing your first drink of the night.

With a never ending stream of alcohol being passed into your hands and some good fucking music (the club on the other side of town has some down right god awful music that the math department and social science department likes) you finally let your hair down. Every once in a while, some sad drunk would cry to you, apologizing for asking you to do something you don’t want to do. When they hear your laugh over the loudspeaker they laugh with you, and another drink is passed into your hands. 

The bass shakes the room and you jump to the beat, cheering and whooping during every drinking game. Araceli hangs off your shoulders when you both take a shot at the same time, and her boyfriend leads her onto the dance floor. 

You’re sober enough- barely-  to watch your best friend with fond eyes, her boyfriend and she dancing like idiots to the music and laughing as if they’re little kids. They’re horribly off beat when they jump but watching Araceli have the time of her life is enough to make you happy, and you’re glad you went to the club. 

Araceli catches your eye from across the room and she stumbles towards you, taking ahold of your hand before handing you one last shot. 

“Down it and let’s dance!!!” She yells and you do as told, throat burning and ears barely picking up her cheers as she drags you onto the dance floor. 

By this time you’re actually honest to god shitfaced, but that’s fine. The music shifts and people that recognize the song go apeshit, yelling and jumping all at once at the bass drop. Araceli dances with her boyfriend, but the second you blink she’s gone with the rest of the crowd and you’re left alone to dance on your own. 

When a song that you recognize starts to play you begin to sing along, but your voice gets caught when someone backs up into you. What was an innocent bump quickly turns into something more and now you’re one of the blackout drunk idiots that isn’t aware of who is grinding on them. 

You can tell it’s a female when your hands move to grip her waist, and her back presses up against your chest. She smells of lavender and sweat, and her jet black hair tickles your nose. You can’t help but smile at this new feeling, and she makes a daring move to take one of your hands and lift it to grope her left breast. 

With a hum of delight, you loop your finger around a belt band and twirl her around to face you. All you can see is big amethyst eyes, half lidded and staring pointedly at your lips. 

“Can I kiss-!” You try to yell over the music, but that’s enough of an ‘okay’ to this mystery woman before her lips are greedily pressed to your’s. 

There’s instant tongue, and you don’t expect anything less from someone so bold. She’s somehow slipped a hand under your shirt, feeling her way up your chest and you move a hand to grip her ass. 

That’s the last thing you remember before your mind blanks from the ecstasy that is this mystery woman. There’s the brief flash of stumbling into an Uber, a soft and breathy voice giving directions as you suck on her neck like some teenager. 

Then there’s the feeling of silk bed sheets, your fingers dripping wet after fucking her senseless and the look of excitement in her eyes as you lick up all her juices, tongue gliding up your digits. 

At some point you have her slammed up against the walls and at another point your tongue explores her pretty little cunt. The constant sound of moaning, pleading, begging and you calling her a “good girl” circles through your head (though the latter is something you find yourself embarrassed about.) 

Your eyes open to bright sunlight and a royal bitch of a headache. A low groan rumbles from the back of your throat and you bury your head into the pillows, but the scent throws you off because this is not your pillow. 

When you look over the edge of your side of whoever’s bed you’re in, you catch sight of condom wrappers and your clothes scattered across the room. You also see a blindfold, but you decide not to think too hard back on that memory. 

Warm arms slide its way around your waist and you freeze in surprise. A sickly sweet giggle fills your ears and when you turn to face the person you spent the night with your face pales considerably. 

Shinobu Kochou, the witch herself, smiles at you peacefully. Her lipstick is smeared and there are a plethora of hickies scattered across her neck (you can only assume that there are more under the covers) but the sunlight bounces off her cheekbones so nicely it irritates you. 

“Good morning (F/n). Did you sleep well?” Shinobu coos, and your life spirals into hell. 

—

[ Next Chapter ]

[iwroteinapastlife]

Least Favorite

Hey everyone! This is a little extra from my ChloNath fake dating fic, Honey I’m Home, but it also functions as a standalone oneshot for those who haven’t read HIH. Enjoy!

Warning: Contains detailed descriptions of blood.

--

He had painted her numerous times, but not like this. Running a thumb coated in gold down her cheek, yellow and black dipped fingers over her neck. He’d never kissed a canvas before. His canvas had never kissed him before. Whispered his name before.

Nathaniel.

Laid across his chest, restricting his breathing before.

“Nathaniel.” ...Or shaken his shoulder, jolting him from sleep before. “Wake up.”

Nathaniel blinked tired eyes, vision blurry from the mess of blonde hair draped across his face. He pulled it back to find a dark room, only dimly lit by the first dull hints of light peeking out from behind the curtains.

“Chloé?” he asked groggily. “What time is it?”

She was already partially on top of him, but he wheezed as Chloé leaned further forward across his chest to check the alarm clock on the other side of the bed. “5:03.” He opened his mouth to complain but before he could, she was talking over him. “How many drawings do you have of me?”

He blinked, squeezing his eyes shut a couple times as if that could clear the fog in his head. He felt like he was missing something. “What?”

“How many drawings do you have of me?” she repeated, voice more insistent. “Or paintings, or pastels, or whatever.”

Nathaniel blinked up at the woman hovering over him, watching him with an expression that was far too awake, alert, and inquisitive for this god awful hour. His brain was moving slowly, he knew it was, but no, he wasn’t missing anything. It was just Chloé being Chloé. “The sun’s not even up yet. Why are you awake?”

“Dunno,” she shrugged, brushing past him. “Answer the question. How many? It’s more than I’ve seen, isn’t it?” Nathaniel pressed his lips together, glaring at her. A knowing smile spread across her lips. “It is; I knew it. How many?”

“...I don’t know.”

She drummed her hand on his chest persistently. “Aw come on, tell me.”

Nathaniel rubbed the heel of his palm against his forehead and let out a long sigh, resigning himself to the world of the living. “I’m serious,” he admitted. “Too many to count.”

Any embarrassment he might have had to confess such a thing melted under the light of that smile. “Show me,” she said, still a demand, but speaking the slightest bit softer.

“Okay.”

It took about five seconds of her watching him expectantly to realize, “You mean right now, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

Nathaniel frowned at her, but he knew it was pointless. Both of them knew he would do anything for that stupidly beautiful face. She knew he would do anything for that stupidly beautiful face. Even cater to her random demands at the crack of dawn.

Five minutes later Nathaniel found himself sitting in front of his computer with Chloé on his lap, one arm around her waist while the other maneuvered the mouse to pull up his art folders. He double clicked the folder titled Her Majesty then handed over the reins. As Chloé leaned forward to scroll through the various files, he rested his forehead against her back and closed his eyes, a small but powerful portion of him still hopelessly clinging to the notion of sleep.

“What even are these titles? A-l-k-s-d-f-j-a-l-s-k,” he huffed a small laugh as she read out each individual letter in the keyboard smash, “bees, bees question mark, bees and honey, go to sleep, gothefucktosleep—all one word—hella gangsta…” a pause as she scrolled further down, “oh and here’s just a sea of wips. Wip 14, wip 178, wip 389, wip 509—Jeez how many works in progress can you have?”

“A lot,” he responded, voice muffled by her shirt—well, his shirt, just on her.

“How do you even keep track of anything this way? There’s no organization system, no order; it’s just complete chaos. You don’t even have unfinished works separate from the finished ones!”

“Excuse me,” he grumbled, “I agreed to show you my art, not have my system criticized at five in the morning.”

“I’m serious though, how do you not lose track of everything?”

He shrugged. “It works for me.”

Even if he wasn’t looking, he knew she was shaking her head. “Absolute madness.”

A comfortable silence finally settled over them as Chloé began actually opening up images to look at them. He breathed slow and deep, sinking himself in the lingering scent of her perfume from yesterday. The sound of clicking slowly grew more and more distant as the comforting beat of her heart took over, the peaceful lull of sleep seeping back into his body.

Right as his mind was starting to cross over into dream mode, Chloé’s voice shattered the silence, waking him again with a tiny shock. “Show me your least favorite drawing of me.”

“What?”

“Your least favorite. The worst one. I want to know.”

“Why?”

“Because I do,” she replied simply, as if that should be self-evident. She twisted to look at him, forcing Nathaniel to pick up his head and open his eyes again. He frowned at her expectant look. “Come on, it can’t be that bad.” He pressed his lips together, his frown only deepening. She narrowed her eyes, giving him an inquisitive smirk. “Is it dirty?”

He rolled his eyes. “No.”

“You have dirty ones though, don’t you?”

“N—,” he paused as he thought. “…No.”

A wicked grin spread across her lips. “What was that hesitation, Nathaniel?”

“I don’t have any dirty drawings of you.”

“But you have something.”

Two seconds of staring, a battle of wills. He was—unfortunately—very weak. Nathaniel sighed and leaned forward, taking the mouse. He scrolled until he found the file titled Summer Heat.

“Ooh.” She leaned forward to inspect it as he dropped his head against her back again, this time more so trying to hide his embarrassment than fall back asleep.

The drawing wasn’t dirty, but he would be lying if he claimed it wasn’t created in the passion of heat and desire. It was pinup style, featuring a practically glowing Chloé seated on the hood of a car—fashioned after Bumblebee from Transformers, naturally. She had one leg pulled up to rest her elbow on while the other leg extended down toward the ground. From the arm resting on her knee she held a cherry red lollipop up to matching lips that were parted in a seductive smirk. She wore a yellow and black striped T-shirt tucked into black high waisted shorts that really didn’t offer much coverage of her thighs, and draped over one shoulder was a black leather jacket with a patch on the sleeve depicting a bee with a crown.  Light shined off of everything—the gold buttons on her shorts, the gloss on her lips, the sheen on her skin—serving to accentuate her every curve and the sweat slicked heat of the summer sun.

“Wow,” she said. “I’m hot.”

Nathaniel huffed a laugh more out of relief than anything. “Yes you are. And it was really hot that day, and I… Yeah.” He even had her hair pulled back in the exact yellow bow she had been wearing  at the time.

“I should get a pair of shorts like that…” she mused.

“No, you really shouldn’t.” Or I will die; please have mercy.

She giggled and he got the distinct impression that she was going to actively seek out those shorts now.

“Alright, now show me your least favorite.”

“…No.”

“Come ooooon,” she groaned, twisting toward him again. He frowned, blinking tired eyes up at her. “I doubt it’s as bad as you think.”

“It’s not that it’s bad, it’s…” He bit the inside of his cheek, unsure how to finish that sentence.

After a few seconds with no answer, Chloé squeezed his arm gently. “Come on, show me.”

He stared up at curious eyes in a dark room, the only light that of the screen behind her, outlining her figure in a heavenly glow. She was radiant, beautiful, breathtaking, and he was so helpless to do anything but her every bidding. As he watched her this time—looking back and forth between those eyes that absolutely owned everything that he was—it was less a test of will, and more a question of how stubbornly he would deny her in order to keep from making old scars fresh for the both of them.

The gaze that looked back was patient, but adamant. Somehow, she knew this wasn’t a battle of will, but a battle she would win nonetheless.

Would he ever learn to say no to her?

With a long breath out, Nathaniel finally released what was left of his resistance and took the mouse. He didn’t look when he opened up the file. He didn’t need to. Despite giving it physical form, the image it seemed would forever be etched into his mind in full, painstaking detail.

“Oh,” she whispered as she leaned forward. Nathaniel rested the side of his head against her, pressing his ear to her back to listen to that reassuring heartbeat as he wrapped a second arm around her and pulled her close. “This is...real.”

It was a complete work, and objectively speaking probably one of his best. The details and shading were as fleshed out as his artwork got, complete with every tiny speck of dirt on her skin, every stray strand of hair. Every drop of blood. The piece was entirely greyscale with the exception of the blood—bright awful vibrant red pooling at her waist, soaking her shirt, painting her hand. Smudges of it colored his own hand where it sat atop hers, holding pressure to the wound to keep her from bleeding out right there in that alley.

His other hand held her head, fingers tangled through long locks, knotted and frizzy and loose from her usual ponytail. Decorating her cheek were two drops of water where his tears had fallen, and worst of all were the eyes. Eyes that were usually so bright, so fiery, so spirited, were instead emotionless, dull—not quite lifeless, but tired and void as they looked up at him with that excruciating blank stare.

He hated it. He couldn’t stand to look at the image and he hadn’t since finishing it and putting it away. Making it in the first place was utter hell. Every stroke of his stylus pained him. He felt like he was the one cutting into her flesh, as if he were the cause of her injury. He was hurting her—hurting Chloé held in his own arms on the screen.

He could feel the scar under his palm where it rested on her waist now.

“I didn’t want to make it in the first place,” he murmured. Her hand settled over his, fingers delicately brushing the backs of his knuckles. “It was stuck in my head for weeks. It wouldn’t go away, even after you stabilized, even after you were out of the hospital, even after you were already up in the air again. It was just there, burned into my mind’s eye at all times, the scene playing over and over and… I finally made this just to...get rid of it. Give it physical form so it could be put away.”

“I get why you didn’t want to show me now,” she whispered. Then a tiny breath of laughter. “And why you didn’t want to leave the hospital. I mean… Did I really look so…?” She never finished that sentence, but he could fill in the unspoken word on the end.

“Yeah.”

She stared at the image for a few more seconds before closing out of it. Nathaniel picked up his head again as she turned to face him, and was relieved to find her still just as at ease as she was before. If seeing herself near death had shaken her at all, it didn’t show.

Cold fingers combed back hair from his forehead. “I never thanked you.”

“For what?”

“What do you think, idiot?” Even if her words were aggressive, her tone was anything but. She spoke softly, with the gentlest hint of laughter in her voice. “For saving my life.”

“I don’t thank you every time you save my life, or all of Paris,” he rebuked.

She immediately rolled her eyes, an amused sort of annoyance taking to her face. “Yeah, but that’s my job.”

He felt a calm smile returning to his lips. “Yeah, and being your sidekick is mine.”

“Oh I see.” She shifted her position so she sat perpendicular to him and draped an arm over his shoulder. His hands naturally settled at her hips. “So I’m just a job to you.”

Nathaniel found his face tilting upward in automatic response to the way Chloé inclined her head, an intimate space coming into existence between them complete with the magnetic draw of gravity itself. “Of course,” he responded, matching her sarcasm with his own, but still not breaking the quiet of the moment, “what else could you ever possibly be to me?”

Her second hand brushed more loose hair behind his ear before settling at the base of his neck. “Certainly nothing romantic. I mean, look at us.” She was speaking in a low murmur now that sent a subtle but powerful spark down the length of his spine. His thumbs dipped under the hem of her shirt as she leaned in closer. A strand of her hair tickled his collarbone. Whispered words brushed his lips. “There’s no chemistry here.”

Even if they had been dating for five months, Nathaniel still wasn’t used to Chloé’s kiss—her real kiss. The kiss that was only shared with him behind closed doors in the intimacy of private spaces. The kiss that felt like a dance with fire itself and left him breathless every time.

She was absolute rapture thinly contained in a work of art.

The whispered words were out of his mouth before his thoughts could even place them. “I love you.”

“Good,” she whispered back. Her forehead rested against his, fingers steadily combing back his hair. “Because I love you too.”

[rotzaprachim]

Ok but your soc au was and is absolutely everything I need!! I saw ur draft and was instantly brought back to like 2018 but like in a good way??!? You’re so talented it’s amazing!!

i’m SO GLAD TO HEAR and not sure if this is about the Hunger Games Au or the misfit au but EITHER WAY i am always so so SO glad when people enjoy my extremely niche soc (+ even nicher soc AU) stuff it’s been one of my most consistent interests for five years now. 

ALSO! There is MORE of the SOC misfits au and i actually have so many ideas and precise plot points i am going to have to take out a notepad and try to plan this bitch out? Which i NEVER do? But here’s a scene from the opening. Hope you enjoy!

  CONTENT WARNING that while one of the biggest divergences i plan to take is that the AU will be far, FAR less sexual than Misfits as a show, taking in mind the younger general target audience and character ages of Six of Crows and respect for the characters, there is a sexual joke in this that felt appropriatedly teenage. 

“We were given these powers for a reason. We have to do something useful with them. Use them to help people.” Inej insisted.

“Given these powers by who, then? God?” 

“God wouldn’t give them to us as a reward,” Matthias said, suddenly flexing his hands nervously, as if the possibility of his newfound ability to turn things into instant popsicles had in fact been conferred by a far more demonic entity. Looking at Kaz, he thought there was something to that particular theory. 

        “Everyone shut up with making the fucking community center into some kind of fucking seminary. God’s faker than the blonde hair of the poor girl who delivers off-brand milk to this dump on thursdays, and if there’s any supernatural reason for our powers, it’s that fate decided they’d dealt me a fucked enough hand and might as well give me something with a purpose.” 

“And that is?” 

“Making myself fabulously, disgustingly rich.” 

“Which you plan to do with your ability to inflict plain in what, the fucking community center? None of us have five fucking quid to rub together, except for Posh Boy Here.” 

“I don’t have five quid either,” Wylan said quietly, getting mostly drowned up in the arguing. 

“Yeah you do,” Jesper said quietly. Wylan almost flinched, unused to being heard in the chaos. “I know the pen you have. Some kind of an old school Lamy that needs fancy ink cartridges. It’s like, ninety at least.” 

“You know about Lamy pens? From where?” 

“I got a past even the devil would flinch from, merchling. I have seen things. Horrifying things, spine tingling things, th-” 

“I’ve seen you before. On Tv i think.” 

It was Jesper’s turn to be surprised. “I-” 

“There is no fucking way you are going to do that. I’ve been trying for fucking years and I barely make rent.” 

“Are you saying you have a sharper acumen for the world of business, Nina dearest?” 

“I’m saying I didn’t get fucking arrested for eating pick-n-mix, that’s for fucking sure. Anyway,” Nina said primly. “I agree with Inej. If we have powers we should use them for something.” 

“Like what? Fighting the oppressive overarching structures of society that hold us all down?” Kaz’s voice dripped with sarcasm. 

“Yes.” Inej said. 

“I was thinking more like. I dunno, small things. Loads of hopeless cases around here.” She shrugged. “Maybe we can make some a little less hopeless.” 

“That’s going to be really easy, what with the dead body of our probation worker lying around premises. Yes reporter officer sir, we did help that old lady cross the road with her sunday shopping, now come take our interview and take our photos for the Sunday Supplement and yeah, sir, don’t notice the full on bloody corpse lying in the rec room.” 

“We do it in secret. Have codenames to mask our identities, like real superheroes do.” Wylan said. 

“They organise a cute little meet-and-greet with a real fucking superhero as an extracurricular at Eton, did they now? Give you have so much experience with how real superheroes operate, then.” 

           Inej’s eyes flashed. It almost looked like a warning, and he filed a mental note that she looked like she might have a little more lightening inside than he’d first judged. Kaz glanced away from her and stared at the wall where they’d hastily moved a big sign for Mommy and Me Musical Magic Monday Maraccas Momzanza!!! (6 months to three years) over what remained of the blood, which, given the deteriorating likely asbestos-ridden condition of this rattrap, would be a goddamn bitch to fully get out of all the cracks and gouges in the wall. After they dealt with the body. 

The problem was, he liked the posh twit’s idea. Liked it a lot, far more than he was willing to let on. If there was anything he’d learned in his years in the Dregs, it was that names had power. Images had power, the idea that other people had of you. If they were properly terrified, they stayed the fuck away and did what you told them too. Make something greater than yourself, and have them fear it. That was the closest you came to power in this world. 

So Kaz gingerly nodded, levelling his enthusiasm in a slightly bored town. “Yeah, eh. Let’s do that. Codenames. So they don’t know what ours are.” 

“You go first, then, genius. What’r you gonna be going as? Cazzo Brekker? Dickhead of the nth degree?” 

Kaz thought for a moment. Tapped his gloved fingers against his knee. “Dirtyhands,” he said. 

A long, sudden pause. Kaz’s brain worked fast enough to realise the disaster he’d just set off, and he was suddenly, urgently, jealous of Jesper and his powers over town. 

The silence was broken by Nina shrieking with laughter, harpy lad and almost doubled over. 

“Dirtyhands? You might as well call yourself Filthy Fingers. Or better yet, Massive Fucking Wanker.” 

“You could abbreviate that to MFW,” Jesper added helpfully. “In case Massive Fucking Wanker was too long to fit on the superhero cape or something.”

Kaz glanced around. Inej had disappeared, although rather that was using her power or because she’d always been good at doing that even before the electrical storm made them all freaks from one of Wylan’s comics, and Matthias was doing something that looked like praying fervently, hands clasped and searching strips of the grey sky through the cracks in the skylights, looking very much like a man caught in one of the lower circles of hell and searching desperately for deliverance.

“Very funny. I have a suggestion for you lot, then. It’s called D-E-A-” 

He was well into launching himself at both Nina and Jesper, certain that if a fight broke out he at the very least wouldn’t be the looser, when he rammed into something small but very solid.  

“What the-” 

Some very sharp fingernails pinched his ears. Bold move, considering his aforementioned touch-me-and-feel-excruciating-pain powers. It hurt. 

“Where-?” 

Inej didn’t rematerialise. Jesper jumped up, though, as if someone had sharply stepped on his foot. “Oww, mate.” He reached out, swatted air. Nina tipped sideways suddenly, rubbing at her scalp. “Shit, did you have to yank at my hair that hard?” 

          She was fast. Tricky, tricky. Kaz mentally reassessed his current pecking order of bullshit-powers-by-order-of-danger 

“If we don’t stop fighting, we’re all end up in prison again. Police’ll be here soon, and we need to make alibis. They’ll cross examine us and we need to make sure the stories match, because there’s no way they’ll trust any young offenders on our own. And we have to do something with the body before putrefication really sets in and the smell comes.” 

Inej didn’t rematerialise. A veiled threat of another pinch, Kaz realised. He almost had to smile. Nina and Jesper both looked a little gobsmacked, and it dawned on Kaz that that was by far the longest string of words they’d heard Inej say at once. 

“Fine.” He thought he saw a dark ripple of her hair, but it was nothing more than a mirage- a tease, he would have said, if it were Nina-” and she was gone again. “We will have veiled identities, but we will refer to each other exclusively by our true, God-given birth names. Kaz, Jes, Nina, Inej, Posh Boy, and Barry.” 

“That’s not my name,” Matthias said. 

“It’s fine, man,” Jesper says. “You can go by your middle name instead. Kaz does, which is why he’s referred to by the diminutive form of Kazzmatazz, instead of his first name, Demon.” 

The clock on the wall hit five. Nina immediately started stripping off the required orange uniform jumpsuit, giving Matthias a good look at her cleavage.

“Don’t play with the poor boy,” Nina said. “He might almost believe we’ve all been possessed. Now has anyone seen where I left my bus ticket, lipgloss, and the half a hazelnut kitkat i saved from lunch?” 

The wind, the unknowing observer would think, blew the ticket, tube of gloss, and wrapper, emptied, right back in Nina’s face.

[halcyonnhood]

Ramen, Baking and Glitter || l.h

Summary: Luke realizes he loves his best friend while on tour and confronts the feelings when he sees her again.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: possibly a few curse words.

Authors note: The italics are Luke's memories of her! After the asterisks (***) is when they're back in LA and in present tense. I hope the format looks okay, I typed this out on my phone. Also the OC is very special to me (more about that in the tags.) I may write more about her and Luke.

- - -

The band 5 seconds of summer have travelled thousands of miles over the years. They've explored new countries, cities, and towns. They've met new fans, friends, and probably too many flirty humans. Luke enjoys every last bit of it, he thrives on the attention. Yet, no amount of love from fans manages to take his mind off one of his best friends waiting back in LA for him. Everything happens to remind him of Sarah.

When the boys stayed in Japan, Michael had demanded to stop for ‘proper’ ramen before they left the country. Of course, no one had the heart to deny him his love for traditional Japanese food. The four of them had been bantering and talking about plans when the longing had struck Luke. He was mid bite of his chicken ramen and all he can remember is the silly heated debate he and Sarah had before the tour.

Sarah tosses the bright orange bag back at Luke and scrunched her nose in disgust. She hadn't eaten all day and upon arriving at Luke's house, she decided she wanted to fix something easy. So naturally, she rummaged through his cabinets and made Luke reach the ramen shoved on the top shelf. When he handed the orange bag to her with “chicken flavored” printed across the top, she felt like she was going to have a brain hemorrhage. Now she just stares up at the top shelf in disappointment, as if red bags would magically appear instead.

“I want ramen.” Sarah tells him with pouted lips.

“You just threw the ramen at me,” Luke says. He points at the bag on the counter.

“Yeah, because that's disgusting.” She makes sure to enunciate the word disgusting. “It's chicken.”

“What do you have against chicken ramen? You like chicken, we literally just had some last night.” Luke questions.

“Ya, we had grilled chicken. It's the flavoring in the ramen, it's weird.”

“What kind do you like then?”

“Beef.” Sarah says. She gives him a playful smile when he rolls his eyes at her, “It is the only acceptable ramen.”

“It is not!” He argues. “You're just wrong, you monster. Chicken is a classic,”

She fake gags, “I have taste buds, you giant oaf. Now we have to go to the store because you're wrong.”

Luke spent the rest of the Japan trip thinking about Sarah. He thought about how much he missed her randomly dropping by his house and pretending she owned it. He thought about how she would've really enjoyed eating traditional ramen instead of the instant kind, she would never want to leave the foreign country. Lastly, he made a mental note to buy the girl all the beef ramen she could ever want and to find a restaurant that serves the real stuff. He knows something so small would make her whole day and he just wants her to smile.  

Japan isn't the only time Luke is reminded of the strong willed girl. They had met a fan in Munich who looked uncannily like Sarah and he hadn't been the only one who noticed. If Luke's being honest, he hadn't been paying much attention to the girl at first. She had won some radio station competition and the whole band had greeted her at once before she turned to talk to Michael first. He had taken more of a notice to her after catching Michael's not so subtle glance at the boys and the first thing he had connected was the hair. The fan had her hair honey blonde hair pulled back into a French braid, so what? It wasn't uncommon to see the almost brown hair color and the style was popular. It's not like he hadn't seen it on anyone other than Sarah, he had. It was just such a common sight around his household that he automatically associated it with her.

When the fan had made it to him and pulled away from the hug, Luke felt bad for not paying attention to anything she said. He wanted to, but he was captivated by how she could be a perfect doppelganger. Dark olive green eyes, freckles spotted across flushed cheeks, and a small button nose. All things that looked eerily similar and one look at the boys showed that they had seen it too.

“Holy shit,” Michael said as soon as she had left “That kid looked exactly like Sarah,”

“It's weird,” Calum added. “I mean, all of the features just matched,”

Ashton had chuckled at their surprise, “They do say everyone has lookalikes,”

“Still so weird, especially after not seeing Sarah in months.” Luke said with a shrug. He tried not to think about it too hard.

Three different shows went by without Luke being reminded of her. He thinks it's because he made more of an effort to facetime her at the end of his nights and fulfill his longing to talk to her. When they stop in Paris, he's proven wrong. Luke wishes he could be cheesy and say it's because he realized he was in love with her while in the city of love. Except he realized his love was more than platonic weeks ago.

Ashton had suggested that they go somewhere local for breakfast. So, the duo set out on an adventure for the best place that served breakfast. They ended up in a bakery, ordering an abundance of baked goods and iced coffee. The savory scent of bread mingling with the sweet scent of pastries and cookies reminded him of none other than the girl that he may or may not be in love with. More often than not, she'd spend her extra time using new recipes to bake cookies, cake, and bread. Most of the time she subjected the boys to taste testing, but none of them seemed to mind. There would be days that Calum would be sad to come over to Luke's and find no treats. It was even sadder on recording days when she couldn't make it to the studio to visit and drop off her baked goods. The best days were always when she stopped by.

“Booooys,” Sarah sing songs, “I made some cookies!”  

She sits the plate covered with aluminum foil on the desk and sits next to Michael on the couch. Ashton's listening to the producer play back their latest song while both Luke and Calum are diving for the plate to see who gets a cookie first. The sight just reminds her of how childish they can both be and it makes her laugh.

"What kind are they today?” Michael asks.

Luke sits back and looks at the cookie in his hand while waiting for her to respond with her normal rambles about the recipe. Usually she'll tell them all about how the website lied about the amount of butter or come up with an excuse to why ‘the first batch is bad’. He has to admit that he loves hearing her get so passionate over her baking skills.

“I made two. Can you believe it? TWO!” Sarah excitedly tells him. “I made salted caramel and raspberry with white chocolate chips. AND the caramel is homemade!”

"Wait, you know how to make caramel? This is so good” Calum says while waving around the half eaten cookie.  

"It's so easy, it's just cream, sugar, and butter. But it burns if you don't take it off the heat fast enough. I may have ruined a pan,” She explains the last part timidly.

Some time during her explaining how to make caramel, Ashton had also grabbed one of the cookies. He just shakes his head at the girl with a chuckle, “Sarah, you'd be a good baker if you didn't burn everything,”

"Says the man who is on his second cookie,” Sarah says with a glare.

"This is the third time you've burnt something,”

“I'm betting that other bakers have burnt things before!” She argues.

The other three stay quiet as the two go at it, both of them living for the argument. For a minute, Luke thinks that Ashton is enjoying it too much. That is until Sarah's expression softens from the furrowed brow to a relaxed and playful one instead. Sometimes he thinks they're both too argumentative and honest for their own good, but it always ends in good fun. He could never understand why they actually enjoyed arguing and often times egged each other on, but as long as no one ends up in tears, everyone let's them hash it out.

“The cookies are really good, Sarah.” Luke tells her honestly. His insides feel melty and gooey as her eyes light up at the compliment.

"Thank you, Luke!” She thanks him in an overly sweet tone, “You know how to be a GOOD best friend. That's why I love you,”

It's possible that Luke had fallen hopelessly in love, not that he'd admit it. He had spent the entire world tour consumed with thoughts about Sarah, always seeking out bits and pieces of her in every place they visited. He even associated her with ramen out of all things. Ramen. He knew he'd have to deal with the conflicting emotions eventually, but he still opted to push them away to have a clear head for the rest of tour. A mostly clear head. All he knew was that it was a future Luke problem.

*  * *

“Are you really bringing up the brownies I made in 2017?”

“They were MEMORABLE! Gosh, I remember how bitter they were. It feels like it happened yesterday,”

“Cocoa powder is bitter, you little shit!”

The argument can be heard throughout the hallway leading up to the dressing rooms in the Forum. Luke hadn't been expecting to hear the bright voice until later tonight, so naturally when he hears her, it makes his heart soar. Her words towards Ashton sounds harsh, but he can hear the playful hints in her tone. He isn't even to the door and can already visualize her darkened blonde hair falling past her shoulders, her usual makeup, and a smile tugging at her pink lips. He feels like he might explode with excitement.

Luke is right. He leans against the doorframe and watches two of his favorite people argue. She has half of her hair pulled back in a ponytail, purple glitter tapped onto her cheekbones, and the light catches on her shiny lip gloss. Neither of them acknowledge his presence, but Michael gives him a knowing grin from one of the chairs. He doesn't mind, he's just happy to see her again and admittedly he missed their playful fights. It gives him time to think about how he'd admit his love.

Girls are usually the ones to secretly fall in love with their best friends, at least that's how it's always portrayed in shows. Is it weird for guys to do that? Luke isn't sure how he's supposed to tell her, should there be some grand gesture? Just be straight up with no frilly things? He should've bought her flowers on the way here from their last promo video. He just wants her to feel appreciated whether or not she holds the same feelings towards him.

Luke is brought out of his daze by a smaller body colliding with his and warm arms wrapping around his midsection. He envelopes the smaller girl in his arms and gives her the tight squeeze that he's been waiting months for. She pulls back and he smooths down her frizzy hair with a small smile.

“I missed you so much, Luke.” Sarah smiles brightly up at him. The sight is enough to turn his heart to mush.

He just returns the warm smile, “I missed you more,”

“Now that you're here,’ Sarah turns around dramatically and points a manicured finger at Ashton before continuing, “You can protect me from bullies!”

“What's he bullying you bout’ this time?”

“My brownies! He can never be nice to me. I slaved all night for y'all and he brings up the disaster of 2017. I'm so much better now.” Sarah huffs.

She snatches the Tupperware bowl off of Ashtons lap and twirls around to push it into Luke's hands instead. He takes one out and savors the first bite, Sarah watching his every move for a reaction. She isn't wrong, it's much better than the first time when she forgot to add enough sugar. When he makes a noise of appreciation for the sweet treat, her face lights up and she sticks her tongue out at Ashton with a laugh. Luke swears that he could watch her soft features all evening, but he could settle for a bit of time before the concert. The last concert of the tour. Then he could spend the rest of his days talking to and watching her when she visits.

Sarah points her nose up in a mocking way, “See, Luke agrees that they are good brownies. I'm right. Now if you excuse us, I've got to paint Luke's nails!” .

“Luke's opinion doesn't mean you're right,” Ashton tuts.

"It does too! Accept defeat, Ash.” She calls out while dragging Luke out of the room with her.

Luke almost forgot that he had texted asking her to repaint his nails. Between potentially obsessive thoughts, promo, concerts, and trying to be a real tourist; Luke hadn't found the time to find someone to keep up with his nails. He definitely wants them done for the show, so he doesn't complain about their abrupt departure from the boys. Sarah leads him a few rooms down to one of the unoccupied dressing rooms and points at the lineup of polish bottles on the makeup desk.

"I didn't know what color you wanted this time, so I bought nearly half of my collection with me,” She says.

"You didn't have to bring all this, Sarah. You could've just picked one for me,”

“I wanted to have a choice! I think you should pick something new though. No black or red.”

“You're really going to do that to me?” Luke asks in mock distress.

It makes Sarah let out a giggle and roll her eyes, “I'm so horrible, I know.”

It only takes Luke a moment to narrow down which colors he liked best. He really wanted the sparkly red, but he couldn't ignore her opinion when he valued it so much. She wants something different, so he hands her the pastel  pink polish and gives her a sheepish glance. She doesn't react badly though, she just gives him a wide smile with her pretty lips and motions for him to sit in the chair.

Sarah gets to work with painting his nails, making precise strokes to avoid a mess of polish. He admires the patience and steadiness required to do such a simple task, because the last time he tried it looked like a toddlers handy work. After watching three nails being covered in pink, he turns his attention back to taking in her features. Her brows dip down into a tiny furrow as she concentrates and he notices the new freckles dotted around her forehead and nose. He figures that she must've been in the sun recently, he's always known that the spots darken with exposure to sunlight. He likes how it just adds more depth to her complexion.

Luke also enjoys the glitter. She tends to save the bold look for festivals and he wants to tease her about how their show must be important. He just finds himself fascinated by how it looks on her and how it instantly brightens all of her features. Of course he wouldn't tease her about it when he thinks she looks so effortlessly pretty. Although the thought of him being the reason for her flushed cheeks is tempting enough.

When Sarah sets the closed bottle back onto the desk, Luke notices her makeup sitting neatly in the corner, probably so she can freshen up throughout the night. He wonders if the glitter would have the same effect on him. Plus, he just wants her close to him.

“What's going on in that brain of yours?” Sarah waves a hand in front of his face.

“I was just thinking,”

She purses her lips at him, “No shit, sherlock. Elaborate,”

"You know how you do your makeup? I was thinking about if I'd look good in it and if the fans would like it” Luke tells her honestly.

“The fans would love it, lu. And we'd be matching!” She gushes. He can tell she's already visualizing the look on him.

"Can you do mine too then?”

"I don't think you could afford my services,” She answers, while already reaching for her makeup.

There's more steps to the makeup look than Luke had originally anticipated. She explains each and every step to him and somehow listening to her explain bb cream ends up being the softest thing in the world. She promised that it'd only even out the redness and he does like how natural he looks. After contouring and adding blush, she finally moves onto his eyeshadow and glitter. He catches a glance at himself in the mirror as she pulls back his hair into a half ponytail and he likes how pretty he looks. The glitter looks nice on him and he matches Sarah perfectly.

Sarah pulls out the gloss wand with a ‘pop' sound and smiles at the man, “One last thing.”

"Thank you. I almost look as pretty as you,” He tells her. He likes how her face flushes a darker pink at his compliment.

"Oh, stop that. You could rock it better than me any day,”

Luke studies Sarah's expression for a moment while she puts her makeup away and he's never wanted to kiss someone more. He's spent months away and he's been consumed by his newfound romantic love for her. Now that she's in front of him again, he wants to kiss her and take her out for authentic beef ramen like he had planned. He wants to watch her bake and compliment all of her new recipes. He wants to hold her tight and never leave her again. He's just afraid that she'll never see him as anything other than a friend. He'd accept any love over none at all, but he'll never know the difference until he tries.

"Sarah, can I be honest with you?” Luke questions.

She looks up at him with wide eyes, “Always. What's up?”

"I think I love you,” Luke tells her carefully. “Tour gave me a lot of time to think about how I feel about you.”

"Romantically?” Sarah looks at him in awe and points at herself, “Me?”

"Yes, you.”

“I'm really not sure what to say in this situation,”

"You don't have to say anything,” Luke rubs his sweaty palms against his pants, “We can just pretend this never happened.”

"No, I mean…I think I like you too. It's just that you're my best friend and you were gone. So I don't know how I really feel? It's easy to think one thing without the person around. Now you're here and what if I just missed you?”

"We can always wait to talk about this,” He assures her, “I was just going to ask you to go on a date with me after the show,”

She gives him a lopsided smile, “What kind of date?”

“I figured I'd ask you to a Japanese restaurant, but no weird seafood since you hate that. I thought you'd like some traditional ramen. We had it in Japan and it reminded me of you.”

"The real stuff? Michael talks about how good it is all the time!”

Luke smiles at her reaction, “Would you like to go with me?”

"You know what? Yes! It'll be fun.”

The boys are finishing up last second preparations backstage when Sarah joins them. Michael and Calum are talking with each other and she doesn't see Ashton with them yet, so she takes it as a chance to talk to Luke. He's fidgeting with his in-ear monitors when he notices her walking up to him, a sneaky expression across her features.

"Being a troublemaker?” Luke raises an eyebrow at her.

"You know it! I just took a break to wish you luck,”

"I always need that,” He chuckles.

The stage managers are rushing around and one speeds by calling out that they'll be on in one minute. Luke gives her a frown, sad to leave in the middle of a conversation. Sarah on the other hand just smiles instead and motions for him to lean down. When the tall boy does, she stands on her toes and places a soft kiss against his lips. His blue eyes widened at the unexpected kiss, but softened after the initial shock. She pulls her lip gloss out and touches up his gloss that she had messed up, not wanting to ruin his look. Luke didn't expect Sarah to make the first move, yet he's the one blushing.

“I-” He starts.

Sarah doesn't let him get a word in edgewise and pushes him lightly towards their other three friends, “I think you're going on now,”

"You look pretty. I'll see you after!” She adds again with a smile at the shocked man.

Luke is definitely in love with her, there's not a single doubt in his mind. All he can think about through the concert is the fact that he's never been so excited for noodles in his entire life. Noodles and his favorite girl.  

[abrunettefangirlnerd]

Christmas Love

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Chapter: 3/4

Prompt: It is Christmas Eve and you are at your friend’s celebrating and exchange gifts. You just got out of a relationship and surrounded my couples. Tom Hiddleston is your best friend and long standing crush that you have come to terms with that you will never have. The night isn’t as great as you thought it would be, but then you get an unexpected visitor.

Warning: Low self-esteem, unsupportive friends

Part One   Part Two

“Jake,” (Y/N) fights out. “I need to get back together with Jake.”

             The words roll through Tom’s mind as he tosses and turns in his bed. Outside his room he can hear the faintest sounds coming from the tv. After calming (Y/N) down, Tom convinced her to stay at his place. He told her that he was worried about her being alone, and really needs to sort things out. But he also knew that if (Y/N) was truly serious earlier, he would see (Y/N) less and less until they became perfect strangers.

“I’m sorry I just don’t get why you are still with the guy.” Tom presses. “I get that you’ve known him forever, but I think-“

“What is so wrong with Jake?” (Y/N) huffs crossing her arms while leaning back against Tom’s couch. ”He is really sweet.”

             Tom positions his body closer to (Y/N). She doesn’t move away, but doesn’t move at all. But Tom doesn’t either. Looking into (Y/N)’s shimmering (Y/E/C) orbs, Tom feels an overwhelming pinch of nerves dance through his stomach as his heart starts to race.

             Glancing at her lips Tom thinks of all the times he so badly wanted to kiss her. Anytime (Y/N) would pout trying to playfully get her way. When her bubbly laughter escapes passed with the biggest smile that brightens Tom’s whole day. Any moment of any day he has wanted to kiss her.

             Almost consumed by his pent-up emotions. Tom manages to back away. Settling at a safer distance, Tom clears his throat before continuing.

“I just think you deserve more.”

             Maddened by the memory, Tom throws his covers off his body and heads for the door. Looking over at the couch he finds it empty except for the chaos of blankets. Suddenly a lump forms in Tom’s throat, did she leave without saying goodbye?

             Trudging into the kitchen Tom freezes at the sight of (Y/N) in front of him. Finally exhaling the breath he didn’t know he was holding, Tom fights to keep his composure.

             (Y/N) hasn’t noticed his presence yet. Walking over to the sink next to her, Tom tries not to startle her. But once next to her small frame, Tom finally hears the sniffles coming from (Y/N). Engulfing her in his arms, (Y/N) crumbles into his chest. They stay like this till (Y/N) calms down enough and removes herself from Tom’s arms.

“Jake is coming to get me at about noon tomorrow so we can talk.” Her voice grows tighter with each uttered word.

“Jesus, you were serious?” Tom’s composure begins to fade as anger settles in. “(Y/N) he cheated on you! I don’t care what his reasons are. I don’t care that he felt neglected or second best. He should have talked to you instead of fuck someone else!”

“Shut up!” (Y/N) screams before quieting down. “You have no idea what is going on!”

“Well, it looks like you’re trying to get back with a guy what you don’t love. I know the only reason you are doing it is because your friends prefer him.” Tom watches tears stream down (Y/N)’s cheeks like silent waterfalls. The last thing Tom wants is to upset her but she has to know.

“(Y/N) I’m sorry for yelling.” Tom takes (Y/N)’s hands gently in his and looks down at them. “I just want you to be with someone deserving of you. Someone that makes you happy.”

             Heavy silence falls in the kitchen. Tom’s gaze remains on (Y/N)’s hands. Rubbing circles against her skin Tom attempts to memorize the pattern of it, the length of each finger, that (Y/N) loves her nails painted the shade of red they are now.

“Jake is not a bad guy, Tom.” Her voice shakes. “Maybe he’s the one for me, maybe not. But he is the only guy I know willing to try.”

             Her words sting against every cell in Tom’s body. He can sense that the conversation is over and has to do something. If he doesn’t Tom could lose her, and Tom knows he wouldn’t survive that.

             (Y/N) starts to take a step away from Tom. One hand slips from his grasp. Panic sends Tom’s brain into slow mode as he tries to comprehend. As her last hand makes its way out from his, Tom wakes up.

             Reaching for her hand, his skin meets hers and gives her arm a soft pull towards him. Stumbling into him, Tom can see the shock and confusion displayed by (Y/N)’s wide eyes and knitted brows. Not wasting another moment Tom crashes his lips to (Y/N)’s.

             Responding, Tom feels (Y/N)’s slightly chapped lips dance with his. Tom’s hands gently cup the sides of (Y/N)’s face. Feeling her arms loop around his waist, he is pulled closer to her body. But as soon as the kiss starts, it is over. (Y/N) pulls away but stands firm in place. Catching his breath, Tom tries to figure out what happened.

             Dazed but slowly coming to, Tom feels (Y/N) lean her head against his chest. Something wet glosses over a part of his skin. Realizing they are (Y/N)’s tears, Tom wraps his arms around her once more.

“I know you’re overwhelmed.” Tom whispers sweetly. “But I couldn’t wait any longer. And I didn’t want you leaving before you knew how I care for you.”

 (Y/N)’s POV

             The events of tonight are a whirlwind in your mind as you lay on the sofa in Tom’s apartment. You can still feel the touch of his lips on yours, and you can’t help but smile. Without realizing it fully, you have been waiting for that moment for years and it was everything you imagined.

             A dark solid pit takes place in your stomach, killing any butterflies you have. I have to see Jake tomorrow. Jake is who almost everyone wants you to be with. Almost. You groan at the situation and wished it was more simple.

             You look at your phone for the billionth time that day. Shiloh is in the dressing room trying to find a new outfit for tonight’s party. A party that you have no desire to go to, but being forced to appear anyway. If it wasn’t for your friends and boyfriend, you would never go to parties. Sometimes you wonder if that is exactly what you want. Though, it doesn’t look like you’ll get the chance to find out.

“Are you sure you don’t want to try on anything?” Shiloh emerges from the dressing room in the tightest red top you have ever seen. “I think Jake would just die of happiness seeing you in that black cocktail dress out there.”

“I’m fine.” You insist. “I have clothes at home from other parties.”

             The same argument has been on replay since getting to the mall two hours ago. Every time there is a new party you always end up here for any of the girls, mostly Shiloh. You already know what you are going to wear, a short black romper that Jake picked out for you months ago that has quite the neckline.

**

             The music is booming all through the house. You wouldn’t mind if it was music you actually enjoyed, but your music is never played at these gatherings. Rap is not your style but it of course has to be everyone else’s.

             Peering over the crowd you look for Jake. Normally he is with Josh around the drinks in the kitchen. Jake is notorious for drinking way too much at a party, at every party.

             Finding him exactly where you thought, you feel a buzz coming from your small bag. Thinking it was a text you let it go but it continues to vibrate. Excusing yourself to the side, you look to see who is calling you. Tom.

“Hello?” You answer while trying to make an escape to outside.

“Darling!” Tom’s excited voice filters through your ears. “Where are you? It is really loud.”

“Just another party everyone dragged me to.” You huff, imagining what you could be doing right now besides being there. You could be reading, watching a movie, sleeping, or talking to Tom without being worried people will hear.

             You know none of your friends particularly like Tom. The only reason why is because they think he is a threat to your relationship with Jake. You think they need to mind their own business. Tom is your best friend in the whole world, and you wouldn’t do anything to hurt Jake but you’re not a mind reader. If something is bothering him, he needs to come and talk to you and not everyone else.

“So, what’s up? Why’d you call?” Your curiosity gets the best of you.

“I just missed you and wanted to hear your voice.” Tom says, and you can’t help but feel weightless. Tom could literally choose anyone to have in his life and for some strange reason he chose you. You’re definitely not complaining, in fact you are more than grateful.

             Remembering that night, you also remember Jake getting really drunk and insecure about Tom being in your life. Jake has asked for you not to mention Tom while he is around, and you have been doing a great job. Though not long after, Jake asked if there was anything you were hiding about your friendship with Tom. Paranoid that things are happening behind closed doors that you are not mentioning. 

Chapter 4

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