#there's a little story to piece together too

[un-creativename]

Yule Ball

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It was the year 1994, almost four months from that dreadful day at the Quidditch World Cup. Almost four months since she broke things off with Fred after one too many comments from his mother about her and her family.

“What a coincidence seeing you here, Malfoy.”

Clearly, Fred Weasley did not get the memo.

“Coincidence?” She repeats as she raises an eyebrow in a mix of annoyance and suspicion. “The castle has seven stories and yet I’m expected to believe our meetings are pure coincidence?”

“Like I said, coincidence.”

The cocky smirk on his face should’ve aggravated her but after a year of their secret little tryst, she’d reluctantly grown fond of it. But she wasn’t naive by any means, Fred was as cunning as a Slytherin most times—a statement that he very quickly feigned offensive to when she mentioned it. There was no way he kept finding her on accident.

“How do you keep finding me, Weasley?”

“I have my ways,” He grins with a shrug. “But that’s besides the point, what’s this I hear about you hanging out with Pucey? I thought you didn’t socialize with your former affairs.”

Now that piece of information she wasn’t surprised he’d known about, not when most eyes were on her due to the Yule ball being just weeks away. “I’m speaking to you, aren’t I?” She mutters as she attempts to move past Fred.

As she tries to walk away, Fred swiftly blocks her path with a mischievous glint in his brown eyes. “Oh come on now, you know I’m different from him,” he teases as he moves to stand in front of her. “You actually love me.”

As they stood in front of each other, she felt a mix of frustration and longing wash over her. Fred seemed to have a skill at getting under her skin, despite how hard she fought to keep herself in check. She’d taken the plunge into a relationship with him early in their fifth year, something she didn’t or rather couldn’t find in her to regret.

“I loved Pucey.”

Fred's gaze softened slightly, a flicker of doubt crossing his features. He knew her well enough to sense when she was putting up walls. “Right,” he drawls, not at all convinced by her response. “Is that why you broke up with him after three months of being together? Because if we do that math, love, we were together for almost seven months more than you and Pucey. Wonder what that must mean?”

She rolls her eyes, trying to mask the way her heart skips at the reminder of their secret rendezvous. “It means you’re insufferable and persistent, Weasley. But now that’s over, so it’s high time we move on, don’t you think?”

Fred's jaw tightens at her words, his usual playful demeanor slipping for just a moment. "Move on?" he echoes, taking a step closer until she can feel the warmth radiating from him. "Tell me honestly, Malfoy, have you managed that yet? Because I haven't.”

His words hang heavy in the air, and she finds herself unable to look away from his eyes. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes that she hasn’t seen since they broke up the day after the World Cup. She’s desperate to ignore the heartache that passes through her. “The Yule Ball is weeks away, it’s the perfect chance to move on. For the both of us…”

Fred's expression hardens at her words, his hands clenching at his sides. "Right, because that's exactly what you want, isn't it? To watch me take some other witch to the ball while you go with someone daddy dearest picked out for you.”

She flinches at his words, the truth in them stinging more than she'd care to admit. "That's not fair and you know it," she says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“No, what’s not fair is that you broke up with me without even giving me a chance to defend you against my mum’s accusations.”

Her breath catches in her throat at the raw pain in his voice. She wants to tell him that it wasn't just his mother's words that drove her away, but the crushing realization of how doomed their relationship really was. The thought of watching him defend her against his own mother, potentially fracturing his family relationships, had been too much to bear.

She closes her eyes briefly, fighting back the emotions threatening to spill over. "I couldn't watch you lose your family over me. We both know how this story ends – a Malfoy and a Weasley, it's like some tragic tale waiting to happen. We would’ve broken up eventually…”

Fred's hand suddenly shoots out to grasp her wrist, his touch gentle despite the intensity in his eyes. "So you're telling me you'd rather live with 'what-ifs' than fight for us? That's not the fierce witch I fell in love with." His words hang in the air between them, heavy with unspoken emotions and possibilities.

“Yeah well, that witch you fell in love with has a family filled with blood supremacists. So forgive me if I didn’t think we’d last for much longer anyway. So, please—and you know I don’t say that often—just let me go.”

The silence between them stretches, heavy with unspoken words and shattered dreams. When he finally speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper, “If that’s what you want, fine—but don’t expect me to pretend I don’t still love you when I see you at the ball with whoever your dad chose.”

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The Great Hall was decorated in its finest Christmas splendor, ice sculptures glistening under the enchanted ceiling. Her burgundy dress robes swished softly against the floor as she danced with Robert Hoglund, a Durmstrang student her father had chosen for her. She couldn’t help but scan the crowd, inevitably landing on a head of ginger hair. Fred was dancing with Angelina Johnson, his usual cheerful smile in place, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. When their eyes met across the dance floor, she looked away quickly, tightening her grip on Hoglund’s shoulder. The music swelled around them, but she barely heard it over the thundering of her own heart. As Hoglund led her through another turn, she caught a glimpse of Fred whispering something in Johnson’s ear, making her laugh.

She forced herself to look away, reminding herself that this was how things had to be. The weight of her family name felt heavier than ever on her shoulders as she continued to dance with Hoglund, mechanically following the steps she’d been taught since childhood. Each twirl seemed to move her further away from what her heart wanted, but closer to what was expected of a Malfoy.

“Miss Malfoy?” Hoglund called in his thick accent, pulling her from her thoughts. “Would you like to take a step outside? You seem…distracted.”

She forces a polite smile, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Fresh air would be lovely, yes,” she responds, allowing him to lead her towards the entrance. As they walk, she can’t help but feel Fred’s gaze burning into her back, and she silently curses herself for still being so aware of his presence.

The cool night air hits her face as they step out into the courtyard, providing temporary relief from the stifling atmosphere inside. She takes a deep breath, trying to clear her mind of the ginger haired twin. Hoglund stands beside her, maintaining a respectful distance that annoyingly makes her miss Fred’s casual invasions of personal space even more.

Hoglund clears his throat, drawing her attention back to him. “You know,” he starts with hesitation, his accent thick with uncertainty. “I can tell your heart isn’t in this. Perhaps we should call it a night?” The suggestion, though politely delivered, carries a layer of understanding that makes her relax.

She nods, feeling a mix of relief and shame at his perceptiveness. “Thank you for understanding,” she manages, her voice barely above a whisper. As Hoglund bows and turns to leave, she catches a flash of movement near the entrance to the Viaduct courtyard, and she hates the way her heart stutters when she recognizes that familiar silhouette lingering in the shadows.

Fred steps out of the shadows, the moonlight catching his features in way that makes her unable to look away from him. His dress robes are slightly disheveled, his bow tie loose around his neck. “You had me worried for a second there, Malfoy. What’s a bloke too think when the witch he loves leaves a ball with another guy?”

She stares at him, her heart racing at his sudden appearance. “You should be with your date,” she whispers. The moonlight casts shadows across his face, making it harder for her to maintain her resolve as she takes another step towards her.

“She’s more interested in George, which is great for me, I’m more interested in blond Slytherin witches anyway.”

She hates the way her heart flutters at his words, once again putting her mind and heart at war. “Must you be so persistent?" she asks, wrapping her shawl tighter when a cold breeze blew past, trying her best to feign annoyance though she’s sure he doesn’t believe her.

“You love me for it,” Fred replies, taking another step closer until they’re merely inches apart. His fingers brush against her arm, and she can’t help but shiver–though whether from the cold or his touch, she’s not entirely sure.

Her gaze flickers down to his lips before she can stop herself, fully aware of the twitch of a smile he does when he notices. “Freddie,” she whispers, his name a warning and a plea all at once, but he’s already leaning in, his forehead resting against hers. In this moment, with the distant sounds of the ball fading into the background noise, she finds her carefully constructed walls beginning to crumble a lot faster than she would’ve hoped. “Why’re you so hard to get rid of?”

“Because you’re impossible to forget,” he murmurs against her lips, his hands coming up to her face. “And clearly you don’t want to get rid of me yet, you would’ve hexed me by now if you did.”

She lets out a shaky breath, her resolve weakening with every passing second. The familiar warmth of his touch, the sound of his voice so close to her–it was all becoming too much to resist. Before she even realizes what she’s doing, she’s tilting her head up, closing the gap between them as their lips meet in a kiss that feels like coming home.

Time seems to stand still in this moment, the world around them fading into nothing but background noise. His hands thread through her hair, careful not to disturb the intricate updo she'd spent hours perfecting, while her fingers grip the lapels of his dress robes. When they finally break apart, both slightly breathless, she can see the familiar mischievous glint returning to his eyes.

“Fancy a trip to the Room of Requirement? Because personally, I think a certain Princess owes me a dance.”

She can’t help but laugh, the sound mixing with distant echoes of the ball. “Contrary to Draco’s behavior, Malfoys aren't really royalty,” she says, but she’s already reaching for his outstretched hand.

Fred’s grin widens as he tugs her closer. “Well you’re royalty to me,” he says, pressing a quick lingering kiss to her temple. “Now come on, I’m owed a dance after bravely watching you dance with some Durmstrang git for over an hour.”

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©un-creativename : All rights reserved. Do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms.

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[katescorner]

atsumu x reader; cw spoilers for the vow (movie) i guess

"how do you look at the girl you love and tell yourself it's time to walk away?"

channing tatum's voice echoes from your laptop. it was movie night and this week's choice was 'the vow'.

it was different from your usual rom com or dramedy, the go tos, but atsumu had insisted he heard this movie was akin to gold. what better love story was there than learning how to fall in love all over again?

but as your heart tugged against your chest at the scene unfolding before you, the screen freezes with the pause symbol before it can end.

"do you need more popcorn? we were getting to the good part. why'd you pause the movie?" you ask, turning to your boyfriend whose eyebrows had drawn together in confusion. "what's the matter?"

atsumu shook his head. "i don't get it."

"what don't you get?"

he turns to you, and you're a little taken aback by the seriousness he displays. because despite what everyone thinks, your boyfriend isn't an idiot; he's not just brash humor and unprompted confidence. maybe it's because he's an athlete that they think that, but atsumu has always been so much more.

he's the type of guy who grumbles about being woken up for your midnight cravings but drives you down to whatever fast food chain. he's the type of guy who guards sharp corners with his hand so you don't hurt yourself accidentally. he's the type of guy who ties your shoelaces without you having to ask and loves so easily you forget it was ever difficult.

"how do you not remember the love of your life? even with amnesia . . ." atsumu is annoyed. you can tell even before you smooth away the lines that form on his face from frustration.

"well, it's just a movie," you try. "and she has amnesia. it's not by choice."

"i would never forget you," he says, or rather, he declares it. "even if i got into a horrible accident or when get old and i lose all my memories, i would never forget you."

you're quiet and he takes it as a sign to continue, "because of my hands."

"your hands?"

he nods. "all you'd have to do is put yours in mine like this," atsumu reaches for you, holding your hand against his (measuring them in comparison and memorizing them) before intertwining his fingers with yours. "and i'd know. we fit like puzzle pieces because everything just feels right with you."

the movie is forgotten as your heart stutters, and you realize—again and all at once—that you love atsumu. you love him with as much of you there is. but in this world of too many people and lost time and missed opportunities, thankfully he loved you too.

how lucky were you?

shitty ending sorry! atsumu in love got overwhelming and this is all i could get out

[mountsmase]

Cozy Days

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Just thinking about cosy days at home with Mason which would be a necessity at this time of year…

It would be one of those days where neither of you have work or any other obligations, and there’s nothing else you need to be doing, so you take the rare chance to relax and spend the day at home together.

The only time you’d leave the house all day would be in the morning to take Ace for a walk and pop to the shops, you’d walk hand in hand to your local supermarket, letting Ace off the lead for a couple of minutes whilst there’s no one else around in a quieter area. Maybe you’d even stop at your favourite coffee shop to pick up some warm drinks and then Mase would wait outside the supermarket with Ace whilst you run inside to grab some ingredients so that you can do some ingredients when you get home.

You’ve been wanting to make some Gingerbread for a while and you've got all of the actual ingredients at home but you wanted to buy some icing, and some chocolates and sweets that you can use as decorations for the gingerbread house you’re going to attempt to build.

You try to be quick in the shops, not wanting to keep Mase and Ace waiting for too long outside but you still grab some extra snacks for the afternoon before paying and going back to find them outside. Mason would take one of the bags from you, not expecting you to carry them both the whole way home and you try and take it back from him because he’s got Ace on the lead and you really don’t mind carrying it but he doesn’t let you have it back.

When you get home you unpack all of the shopping and drag Mason upstairs to get changed. There’s nothing wrong with what you’re already wearing, both in comfy clothes that would be absolutely fine for what you have planned for the rest of the day, but you brought some matching Christmas PJs a couple of weeks ago and you’ve been waiting for a good opportunity to wear them, and now seems like the perfect time.

You put them on and probably convince him to take some photos with you in them, you move in front of the floor length mirror you have in your bedroom to try and take some but he’d be all over you, constantly trying to make you laugh by tickling you and constantly kissing you when you’re about to take a photo. But they’d turn out as some of your favourites, the ones where you’re both laughing and smiling wide.

You’d go downstairs and put a Christmas movie on, maybe Elf or Home Alone, and then go into the kitchen to get started on the baking (i think his house has a joint living/kitchen area so you’d be able to watch the film from the kitchen)

Baking together would be so so fun, maybe you do quite a lot of baking so he lets you take the reigns and steps in to help where and when he can. And I can imagine him being a little shit and trying to get on your nerves, doing things like flicking flour at you or smearing it over your cheek and by the time the gingerbread has been put in the oven you’d be covered in various ingredients and in desperate need of a shower, but it’s funny more than it’s annoying. He could never ignore you no matter how many times he snuck bits of the batter when you weren’t paying attention.

Once it’s all cooked you take them out of the oven and let them cool before cutting up the pieces to the correct sizes to make a gingerbread house with them. Maybe you want to set up a little decorating competition but you don’t have enough to make two so you each take a side and get started on the decorating. It would be a constant race to get the best sweet and chocolate to use as decorations and a lot of them would definitely be eaten before they even make it onto the house.

It’s a bit of a mess by the time you’re finished, both of you having our way too much on it but it’s your own little masterpiece and you love it, maybe you even post some pictures of it to your private Instagram story and make a poll of who’s is the best side. You’d win it and Mason would go all pouty and give you the silent treatment but would crack not even 5 minuets later because he knows for a fact that yours was definitely the better side and he can’t be upset with you even if he was just doing it jokingly.

The baking and decorating would take up most of your day and by the time you’re finished you’re both hungry and ready for dinner but neither of you feel up to cooking so he gets his phone out and orders you a take away. He’d order for you without even needing to ask what you want and he guesses perfectly what you’d want to eat, as he does all the time.

You clean up from the baking whilst waiting for the food to arrive and when it does you eat it in front of the TV, watching the Grinch as your third and final Christmas movie of the day.

After dinner he puts the plates in the dishwasher but would come right back to you on the sofa to watch the rest of the movie. You’d curl up next to him in the corner of the L shaped sofa, pulling a blanket over you to keep warm whilst he reaches over to grab his laptop from the coffee table. You’d sit and do a bit of last minuet Christmas shopping online, getting all the bits and pieces you didn’t manage to find during your shopping trip the other day.

And when you’re ready to head up to bed Mason would disappear upstairs whilst you’re locking up, wanting to treat you a little by running a bath with all of your favourite Christmassy soaps and bath salts. He knows that a bath is your perfect way to end the day and maybe you mentioned having a bit of a headache earlier so he wants to help you fully relax.

But yeah, these types of days would be some of the most special leading up to Christmas, having no pressure at all to go out and do anything specific, instead just going with the flow and doing whatever you feel like doing at home. Whether that’s baking or just cuddling on the sofa and being lazy all day, just having the time to be together during one of the busiest times of year it’s what’s important to you.

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Day 10 Concept tomorrow 🎄🎅🏻

[moonlight-prose]

A CASE OF YOU

➻ under the mistletoe

a/n: i fear i am obsessed with this pairing even before i've fully put out the series. all i want it to be trapped in the cabin with them during winter. that's it. so as a pre-christmas gift from me to you (because there's one more of them coming) i got this idea and wrote it so fast i'm pretty sure i blacked out. enjoy something spicy and sweet my loves! divider by the incredible @saradika-graphics.

summary: simple acts of love at the end of the world draw the string tight around the three of you. even if all it takes is some mistletoe and kisses on a cold winter's night.

word count: 2.8k+

pairing: joel miller x f!reader x old man!logan howlett

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY!!, romance, love, fluff, logan is a little shit, filthy makeout sessions, squirting, dirty talk, spit, explicit activites, threesome.

SERIES MASTERLIST

“Don’t drop me okay?”

The scoff echoed louder than he intended, fingers digging sharply into the meat of your thighs. “Not gonna drop ya bub.”

“I’d believe you if I didn’t have proof from the Halloween party-” A smack to your leg shut you up quicker than expected, your mouth open and heart fluttering at the feel of your thigh rippling. “Logan!”

“You were takin’ too long,” he muttered, soothing the spot with a soft brush of his thumb.

Tradition didn’t happen often in your stolen time together. Winter called for the swirl of frost to build on the outside of the cabin, snow packing along wooden walls and a doorway hung with a wreath of greens and reds. The world stilled—time an inconceivable factor—in order to get the three of you to find your way back to one another in a cabin you claimed as your own. Home felt different on the outskirts of a town stuck at the end of the world.

Holidays were sparse. Scattered amidst the tragedy that became an everyday story told over and over again. Each ending wrapped up the same way—a death sentence signed the second the world fell to pieces overnight. Nightmares were tinged in golds and greens, the soft feel of flannel wrapped around your naked body—heat pouring off two bodies littered with scrapes and scars.

They clung to what normalcy remained. The tree pushed into the corner of a small living room, a record player discovered in Logan’s basement two months before. The first time you hummed along to an old fading tune about mistletoe they nearly tripped over themselves to find you—each enraptured by the echo of joy after they were buried in pain.

Two days ago you found a small bunch of mistletoe wrapped neatly in a red ribbon on the kitchen table. A small token of their affection in a time where even that was difficult to give.

“Is it straight?” you asked, adjusting the bow with a huff. “Can you see it?”

The rumbling emanated from his chest when your head ducked down to catch a glimpse of his face. Only to find his eyes latched onto the swell of your breasts beneath the soft green sweater dug up in an old store years ago. You cherished the luxury of its cashmere feel; even if a hole gaped at the very bottom hem now stitched over with black thread.

Where Logan stood mere seconds ago—a smirk plastered across lips you bit this morning—you found a man transfixed at the thought of bare skin and nipples that begged for the searing heat of his mouth. Slick pooled in your cotton panties, his nose flaring at the heady scent—fingers harshly carving their way into your skin. He was voracious for you—hungry enough to take what you so often gave.

“I think you lost him darlin’.”

“Fuck off Miller,” Logan barked, reluctantly dragging his gaze from the shape of you to glare at the man propped against the doorway.

Snow gathered in his unruly curls, gloves discarded at the side table and jacket draped over a hook near the back door. Joel Miller never failed to steal your breath with a single look. With brown eyes that once were darkened with pain, he watched you with a gleam of joy—his lips curled into a crooked smile you felt practically press to the skin of your throat.

He changed as the years went by.

There was no doubt that the grief he harbored would outweigh yours and Logan’s. The sinister curl of anguish still tugged sharply at his heart during the winter holidays. His memories vivid and bright with the image of Sarah, of time spent in the warmth of his old home in Texas.

You could remember your first year here—his failed attempts to participate even as his heart screamed for that familiar numbing sensation he knew well. The nights spent wrapped in his by a dying fire—a separate body pressed to your back. Christmas was drenched in poison until you gathered him with your touch and poured the antidote down his throat.

“It looks perfect,” Joel said with ease, ignoring how you were still propped on the larger man’s shoulders.

Smiling, you curling a hand into Logan’s hair—tapping his temple to let you down. “Thank you for it.”

“Don’t look at me sweetheart.” His gaze shifted to a silent Logan who helped you slip back down to the floor, an arm wrapped tight around your waist. “It was all his idea.”

The rapid pace in which he averted his gaze confirmed Joel’s words before you could ask the question. Logan Howlett wasn’t a soft man when you met him. In fact, he came off as a brute who raised a daughter more feral than him. Falling for him didn’t come without its struggles; the fight he put up to beat Joel at his own game nearly turned you away from him.

But beneath the layer of armor, entwined with bones coated in metal and agony, you could see a man who longed to be held with the reverence of forever. He didn’t prefer being alone. He settled for it.

When you arrived in his life—enticing and as sweet as biting into a fresh summer nectarine—he understood that his past would never be a deal breaker for you. He was the man who clawed his way through an apocalypse, protecting a young girl tied to his hip. Someone weary and withered with age, yet longing for a place to belong.

Cupping his scruffy cheek, you turned his gaze back to your soft smile. “Is that true Logan?”

The tough exterior crumbled to the ground—hazel eyes softening at the utterance of his name. “‘S a tradition,” he mumbled, curling a hand around your wrist. “I don’t want you to lose your traditions.”

So that’s what this feeling burning a hole in your chest was.

Practically unbearable the longer you tried to come up with a name. Only to find its definition staring you straight in the face.

Love.

You loved him. You love them both.

You couldn’t think of a time where you didn’t love them—where your paths hadn’t crossed yet—and found that wasn’t a past you wished to reside in. They were your home, your future wrapped in flannel and tied with a shitty red fading bow.

“Fuck. Come here please,” you breathed, tugging him down with a gasping breath.

Kissing him felt endless. His lips were rough on your soft ones, hands quick to grab your hips and haul you to his chest. Blood rushed to your head, fingers twisting into his hair as he met your intensity with a wave of his own. Mind numbing, blissful, and everything you never thought you’d have.

He licked into you with a harsh groan, teeth scraping your bottom lip as the mistletoe hung above your heads—taunting Joel to come closer. To see how Logan’s tongue looked smearing his own spit along your teeth.

The shuffle of boots fell on deafened ears attuned only to the soft grunt you pulled from the man before you. Becoming lost to his touch felt like its own gift. How he gripped your ass to press you close, yet his lips softened in their relentless need to consume you in whatever way he could. You didn’t become aware of Joel standing behind you until his own hands slid up your ribs, curling to cup your breasts through the cashmere fabric.

A string of saliva connected Logan’s lips to yours as you pulled away to breathe. The gentle touch of Joel’s calloused fingers pinching your nipples drew a soft breathy moan from your throat. His lips latched to your neck—teeth scraping the sensitive skin with a sound of his own.

More often than you intended you found yourself trapped between them and their insatiable cravings. Logan would fuck you for hours, nestled between sore thighs and chafed skin. Joel would one up him with his mouth, sucking your clit hard enough to have your legs clamped around his neck. A cry of his name bouncing off the walls of your shared home.

“Go on bub,” Logan mumbled, nose brushing yours as he stole another chaste kiss. “Give him a kiss.”

You were turned before you could comprehend his words, Joel’s hands finding purchase where Logan’s once sat. A soft game of tug and war between men who would drop to their knees if you asked. Men who killed to keep you safe—their fiery natures subdued by the oxygen you stole from their lungs.

“Gonna gimme a kiss darlin’?” Joel asked, lips sliding along yours.

The answer was obvious but you were too dazed to respond with words brimming in snark. “Uh-huh.”

“That’s a good girl.”

Tenderness poured out of his kiss and filled your chest with a warmth you knew well. He didn’t take as often as Logan. Far more interested in what he could give. Yet both ached to be given purpose, to be put to use. Even if you got tired of them at the end—a conclusion that would never come to pass. How could you ever choose to let them go? You’d never be able to live without them.

He sucked on your tongue with a hoarse moan, Logan’s hands pushing up under your bra to toy with your hard nipples. The shiver that wracked your body made him chuckle into your ear—the hot trail of his tongue dragging down your neck as Joel languished in the feel of your tongue. It drove you mad how easy they managed to rip you apart. How fast you fell into their touch with a burning need of your own.

“How’s he taste?” Logan breathed, sucking at your earlobe.

You pull away, dragging in a lungful of air. “Like coffee.”

“Gotta be better than that,” he mused. “You were eatin’ him alive.”

The mewl slipped off swollen lips. “Logan.”

“Bet you taste better. Ain’t that right Miller?”

Joel’s chuckle echoed in your other ear, a rasp that had your toes curling on the hardwood floor. “Taste’s like fuckin’ heaven.”

Your eyes slid up to the mistletoe that taunted them further, a gasp torn from the base of your chest as Joel’s hand tugged at your shorts. Cold fingers pushing your panties to the side with a soft bitten out fuck. Surviving them was never an option. Not when they drew every nerve in your body tight with endless pleasure—setting a fire beneath your already hot skin.

Two fingers slid through your wet folds, a punched out groan drawing your attention back to Joel’s crimson face. He watched himself touch you. Stuck on the sight of how you parted for him, how your thighs unconsciously opened to let him explore the familiar expanse of your body. He would spend eons worshiping you and never tire of the way you reacted.

“Looks like it too,” he said more to himself.

Logan heard him loud and clear. “Tell me baby. Do you like the mistletoe?”

Nodding slowly, you felt two thick fingers plunge into your sopping pussy before any words could form in your hazed mind. Your head fell back onto Logan’s shoulder, hips canting into Joel’s touch with a breathy whine that made him grin.

“There ya go,” Logan cooed. “Open up for your old men. Let us have some fun.”

It was only a matter of time before you unraveled. They could see it in the way you struggled to breathe properly, your mouth parted in a silent cry of their names permanently lodged in the back of your throat. Nothing prettier had ever graced their lives before you. Their reason to live, to keep finding their way home—discarding boots by the door and jackets on hooks.

You were forever when the prospect of it seemed impossible to have.

“She’s so fuckin’ wet,” Joel grunted, curling his fingers until they struck right where you needed. A sob wrenched from your mouth, thighs trembling around his hand. “Drenchin’ my hand.”

“Yeah?”

“You hear that darlin’?” Joel’s voice dragged you back with its lilting tease. “That’s it huh? Right there?”

“Y-Yes!”

Logan’s hand dropped from your waist, his fingers prodding at your entrance where Joel’s currently ripped you to pieces. Dragging out sounds you didn’t know you could make. Hooking two fingers into you from behind, Logan swallowed your shout with a searing kiss. His broad hand cupping your chin to angle you closer—each noise muffled by the wet heat of his tongue finding yours.

They worked in tandem to drag you towards the edge. Where Joel pulled, Logan pushed. Two men finding their rhythm in the confines of your writhing body. You’d been stretched before, but this felt different. As if each of them were intent on striking that soft spot along your fluttering walls. Slick pouring out and coating their hands as the loud squelching echo bounced off the walls.

If you weren’t pressed between them you would have collapsed. Your knees giving out and body curling in on itself as they pounded into you with biting groans and harsh breaths.

“C’mon bub. I can feel ya achin’ for it.”

And you were. You were screaming in your head to finally be thrown into the depths of ecstasy. But your voice only existed in cries and garbled words that sounded eerily similar to their names.

“Be a good girl and cum,” Joel growled, grinding his palm into your throbbing clit.

The release ripped from your body with a broken sob. Your legs kicked out and your body arched as they broke you even further. Pleasure strangled the air from your lungs, tearing through you like a fire without end. A bliss that threatened to break you beyond any type of repair they could offer. You were a ball of nerves completely and utterly gone for them as you struggled to keep your head above water.

“There it is,” Logan hummed, smiling against your cheek at how you gushed over their fingers. A splash of your release hitting the hardwood floor. “Made such a pretty fuckin’ mess for us baby.”

A soft whimper was all you could muster, your eyes slipping shut as Logan wrapped you in his arms. Joel releasing you with a soft huff.

“Gonna grab a towel.”

You tracked his shuffling as the breath returned to your lungs. Logan’s nose a soft press against your temple—his lips warm enough to pull you back to the present. Time seemed to fall away in their presence. A limited escape within this haven the three of you created—a place you could fall in love all over again.

“How are you?” he murmured, thumbs curling along your waist.

You hummed, brimming with contentment. “Good. Even if I can’t feel my legs.”

The laugh you got in response was all you could have hoped for. His hold grew tight as he shifted to settle you in his lap on the floor. This is what you longed for, what you dreamed of in the early stages of your relationship. When friendly gestures were all you could give and the idea of love felt so far away.

“How’s that? Better?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, curling into his chest. “Perfect.”

“‘Course you chose the fuckin’ floor.” Joel’s voice once again had you wrenching your eyes open with a grin. “Not like my knees are shot to hell.”

“We can move to the couch you old fucker,” Logan snipped, gathering you close as he clambered to his feet.

Finding Joel’s hand you tugged him to fall in step with your trembling legs. “Baby.”

He lit up at the sound of your voice. “He’s gotten enough of your time darlin’.”

Logan scoffed, draping himself on the couch. “And you’re one to talk. What with all those late night conversations in here.”

“Not my fault you sleep like you’re already dead.”

You giggled, falling delightedly into Joel’s chest as he settled with a grunt. “Always fighting.”

“I’m not fighting,” Logan remarked. “I’m explaining.”

“Is that what you tell Laura?” you asked, quirking your lips at the sight of him scooting closer. With a huff he dragged your legs into his lap. “Or does she do that to you?”

“Ellie does it too,” Joel muttered. “Never not fightin’ with me.”

You smiled, the simmering ache of love igniting anew in the base of your chest. “I can see where she gets it from.”

Logan’s laughter filled the space, yours soon joining as Joel bit at your shoulder to keep you in check. Even in the midst of tragedy—stuck at the end of the world—you understood that your path would always curve towards them. A destined fate that carved itself into your ribs long before you were born. They were your permanent space in this horror story.

Your forever even as you ran out of time.

[concretecultist]

The Vulture and The Finch

summary: a short story where the finch trusts the vulture, leading to a gut-wrenching betrayal.

word count: i have no idea actually but it is short.

warnings: angst, no happy ending, betrayal

A/N: Inspired by the song Birds by the Sea by BANKS. im back and im here fo bring the heartache.

“You never sang for me,”

Fighting the tears in your eyes was something you found yourself doing more often these days than not. His outfits were the same, but he wasn’t. How did this much time pass? You felt so lost, you stand alone now and the one person you wanted to stand by you forever… now stands with someone else.

“Y/N… what did you call me here for?” He has a right to ask this question. You haven’t spoken in almost two years. All the rumors you heard have become too much to bear, it was gutting you to even think about any of it being true. But seeing the five o’clock shadow and the ring on his left hand was answer enough.

“Heard you’re living with a girl by the sea,” You tried to smile, tried to choke out laughter to seem supportive but it all just sounded strangled; gurgled as if you’re drowning.

You stare out at the waves, aching with the knowledge that Noah always knew you wanted to settle down by the water as it was your safe space. You could cry while sitting on the shore, sharing something in common with the water that greeted you, the salt in your tears mimicking the crashing of the waves, releasing your pain. The wind that whisked past you whispered in your ears with each gust, ‘this too shall pass’.

It all feels like a lie now.

He said he’d never leave you. With all the warnings your mutual friends were giving you, you shouldn’t have believed him, especially because every time he said it, he said it by the door.

Subtle foreshadowing.

Was it because you broke the ancient superstition to never buy your lover shoes unless you want them to walk right out of your life? Perhaps it was the time you bought him the watch he wanted, bringing forth the bad omen on yourself, giving you no choice but to countdown how much time you had left together.

How rich that he’s wearing that very watch now.

“Heard she’s have a little baby now, how sweet”

He’s taken your dreams, your visions, just to fashion them to fit his current life. A piece of you has been stolen, it has kept you up at night more times you can count while he sleeps ever so peacefully.

“You don’t get to speak on my family,” His voice was void of any patience. He’s not even sure why he entertained you to come out here.

It’s sad really, the thought of Noah was always accompanied by birds, flying around you two as they sang their tune, but he never sang for you. His refusal should have been sign enough, he knew the type of love you desired and his defiance was a display of the deprivation.

“I should have listened to everyone when they told me not to fall for you, fuck! Even your own best friend warned me! He always told me you’d never change your ways but he was wrong. You did! I just wasn’t worthy, apparently,”

“Y/N, I have a wife and our child to get back to. I’m not here to debate my choices with you!”

“Then why did you come?!,” spinning around to take in the sight of him. He always had tired eyes but they only seemed more exhausted as they ran over your features. You weren’t sure if it was due to him preparing for a child… or if it was the fact he always found you mentally and emotionally taxing; that any energy he spent dealing with you was quickly depleted.

“Because I felt bad for you!,” his own expression was an indication of his involuntary slip up, however, he figured he might as well drive the sword deeper, “I came here because I still ask Nicholas about you and he tells me you’re not doing well. I know it’s my fault but what can I do now, Y/N? I’m married- I have a daughter on the way, I-,”

“So you take my plans and execute them with another girl? Yes. That sure shows your sympathy for me, Sebastian!”

“What is the point in all this?,”

The million dollar question. You asked yourself this all the way over here. No answer you came up with sounded good enough and you know no matter what answer you give, he will find pitiful.

“Closure, I guess,” You shrugged, wrapping your cardigan tighter around you as you turn back to the sea. Standing ankle deep in the water, wishing to be carried away in the ebb and flow. You hated how he could easily make you cry.

“You took the life I wanted for us both and you gave to someone else,” now there was venom on your tongue, “You were my songbird… y-you were supposed to bring love and joy but come to find out you’re a fucking vulture hiding in the skin of a finch. You mimicked me until the hunger of your own selfishness took over! You picked at me and picked until you were full and sated then you left my fucking carcass to rot and you think you deserve the peace? The clear conscience that you have?!,”

You really didn’t mean to break. You came here to ask how he was and to congratulate him on his new life, but the more you think about it- you didn’t want to do that anymore. He took the heart of a hopeless romantic and squeezed it dry right in front of you. How do you congratulate that? When he drained the blood from you just to pump it into the life he has today, making it full and youthful?

It’s sickening, actually.

You turned once more to look at him and swallowed thickly.

“You are the bad omen in my life. There was no black cat, no broken mirror, no walking under a ladder. Just a 6’3 bloodsucker who carefully chooses his next conduit to drain until he gets what he wants,”

You began to walk past him, just wanting to leave. That want was quickly diminished when you come to an immediate halt, feeling his hand wrap around your forearm, the coolness of his ring seeping through a hole in your cardigan brought a type of burning you’ve never experienced.

“That’s not fair,” he hissed, eyes strong and dead set on yours, surprised with you snatching your arm out of his grasp.

“No, what’s not fair is Nicholas telling me you’re naming your daughter after the name I was going to give our child!,” you push him away, a fire burning under your flesh, the complete opposite of the cool air that rushed between the two of you, “What’s not fair is you giving your wife my dream home!,”

Another push.

“What’s not fair is you making me believe that what you have now could have been with me,”

Another one.

“What’s not fair is you leaving me in the middle of the night while I cried for you and never turning back!,”

Another.

“What’s not fair is you dedicating songs to your wife and all I ever fucking got was a half assed unreleased verse on a usb!”

One more.

“What’s not fucking fair, Noah!! Is you watching me fall in love with you knowing you never felt the same way. That I was just a place holder until the girl you truly wanted, wanted you back!!!”

Next thing you know he’s stumbling and falling into the crashing waves, sea foam in his hair and salt water burning his eyes.

“You can have it! Have my life!,” you bellow, watching as he tries to pull himself together.

“You’re the one that has to live the rest of your life knowing you’re so empty that you have to siphon others to feel joy, to feel anything!,” you take a few steps toward him, pointing a finger with so much anger it could kill, “You have nothing left to siphon from me, so good luck trying to figure everything else out on your own,”

“Y/N,” he just sat there, head hanging low while his arms rest on his knees.

You had nothing left to say, nothing left to hear, so you had no reason to stay.

“Y/N!,”

The sand sinking with each step, forcing you to use your arms, your anger promoting the momentum.

“Y/N! Fuck!,”

His voice became quieter the more distance you made.

His facade will crumble.

And you’ll find your birds by the sea. Reminding yourself over and over that you’ll get what you deserve out of this life.

“Someone will sing for me”

————————————————

I know it’s quick and short but I really missed writing and this is to help me get back into it after the long and unexpected hiatus!! Thank you all for your support and patience!!!🩵

tags: @dravenskye @babs-96 @tech-depression-inventory @magnificentstrawberryomen @mrscevans @tinyfairies @mxddymay @themorticians-world @rainy-darling @darknightstarryeyes @thisbicc @lilhobgobbler @lovethe-void @cind6547 @flowery-mess @widowsofchaos @abiomens @amelia-acero @collapsedglasshouses @poppy-in-the-woods @rostoken @dkxxm @fadingintothegrey @blairboo @lacy1986

[itstheval]

Memory of a Quest

A @livesworthlivingau Side Story

Isabeau didn't know what to do with his hands. He'd never been in this situation before.

Siffrin had invited him out to visit a shop, on a 'secret mission'. He was confused, of course - this was something he did with Odile, not with Isabeau! But it had snapped into sense when he mentioned that he'd promised it during the loops. It was his therapist's idea…Get closure on the things he'd said to do during the loops, and it should help him put them to rest.

Why he'd promised to take Isabeau out antiquing was beyond him, but anything for Sif, right?

So there he was, standing in an antique store and trying to figure out how much he was allowed to touch. Not that there was too much interesting…A few familytales, some knick-knacks from people who'd moved on or passed on, things like that. It seemed important to Sif, though, and that's what Isabeau decided to focus on.

Siffrin didn't…have much of a past, he'd come to realize. He'd thought that it was just that he'd Changed! People do that, leaving their pasts behind, trying to pretend they don't exist, and Isa was nothing if not considerate. The truth was way more troublesome…There wasn't just a bad past behind Sif, or a past that belonged to someone he wasn't anymore, but nothing at all. Like if he let down his walls, instead of a bustling city, there was dry desert.

Well, the group had decided (but Isabeau especially), if there was nothing there, he'd water the crops and build the city with his own hands. He'd erect a town as great as the bustling Jouvente he left. Bigger even! With a nice number of bakeries full of memories of good food, and maybe a few Houses of Change…This metaphor was getting away from him.

So there Isabeau stood, surrounded by history that meant nothing to him, watching the love of his life go through each thing, turning it over in fascination.

"What're ya looking for, anyway?" Isa finally decided to ask, startling Siffrin from holding a small glass frog. "If I knew, maybe I could help?"

Sif turned to look at him, and the look of uncertainty hit him hard, despite his best efforts. "I…Don't know." Sif admitted, and Isa put the pieces together just a moment before Sif continued. "Something I remember, I guess. Something from back home."

Isabeau nodded, keeping his smile broad and warm, and ruffling Sif's hair. Thankfully, Mira had managed to teach him how to take care of it, so it wasn't as greasy as it once was…The first few times he'd done that, shortly after leaving Dormont, had not been a great feeling! Luckily, Isabeau knew how to keep things like that hidden (never show them let them think you're fine and dumb and-).

"So, stuff with stars? Or…The Universe?" Isabeau tried to think of anything else that could be a clue, that he could home in on. "Or…It was an island, maybe stuff with boats?" He asked it innocently, but the way Sif was looking at him made him pause.

"You…Remember all that? Now?" Siffrin had gone from curious to shocked, to almost crying, in seconds. Oh Change, what did that mean?!

"Well of course I do!" Isabeau tried. "They're important to you, aren't they?"

OOF!

A small, Sif-shaped missile impacted his chest, and Sif was hugging him and sniffling, looking up. This was important to the little rogue, huh? He tried reaching a hand around, to rub his back through the smooth cloak Sif always wore.

"Of course I remember. Why wouldn't I? They're things you care about. It'd be like not remembering Odile likes books, or Bon likes pineapple." You give a small laugh, your words quiet in the store whose customers all had their eyes turned to you now.

"I…I just, you never remembered before. Not when I didn't…"

"Do it perfectly?" Isabeau gave a sigh. Not for the first time, he wished he could've explained himself sooner. "Sif, just because that's when you learned that I knew, doesn't mean it's the only time I knew. I've cared about you for…For so very long. And if you can't remember it, I'll do my best to remember it for you."

Isabeau wasn't sure that was the right thing to say. Sif buried his head again, but the squeezing of arms around him made him oof, and he rubbed all the harder in return. "All of us will, Sif. Now…Shouldn't we be looking around?" Change, save him from the stares of random passersby…

Change was listening, or at least Siffrin decided to return to his search. He wiped his eyes, and Isa patted his back as he watched the puffiness of them, the darker shades that were a sure sign he'd been crying. "Right…" Sif managed, his voice wavering. "The Quest."

Isa allowed himself a little laugh at that description. The quest? That's really how they were thinking about this, still? Well…Nothing wrong in helping him. "Yes, we must quest forth for the mighty secrets of old." He allowed a nod, as though it wasn't the most ridiculous thing he'd said in quite some time.

Siffrin felt like an idiot. This was nothing new, but it'd been happening less recently? So it didn't feel great.

Of course Isabeau wouldn't know what to look for out on a secret quest! Of course this would make the whole thing awkward! And of course he'd wound up having to be comforted, again, when everything went wrong, again.

Thankfully, as Doctor Jinn had put it, he's got the same chance as everyone else to make it right. And Isabeau had remembered! He'd actually remembered, even though they hadn't gone stargazing! Or anything!

…Why hadn't they gone stargazing yet? They needed to remember to fix that later.

For now, though, they managed to focus on other things. Like the antiques around them. They had to admit, this had always fascinated them. Every single one of them, every item in the shop, with a history longer than Siffrin could imagine. He picked up a notebook with a hand symbol on it, and took a moment to try to imagine just how many other generations had held the same thing they're holding. Who wrote you? They thought it to themself as they stared, not really taking in the book in front of them. How many people read from you, how many lives did you change? What story were they holding in their hands right now, without knowing any of it?

They put it down with significantly more reverence than they'd picked it up, then jumped at Isabeau's voice. Stars, they'd gotten so lost in their own head again!

"Hey Sif, Stars are a thing from…Your country, right?" A part of them curled up at the way that Isa had to talk around the name of their home, but a much more interested part perked up.

"Yeah, why? What did you find?" They started towards the aisle that Isabeau was down, and then paused dead in their tracks.

"Well, this hat has all kinds of stars on the inside, see?"

It couldn't be.

That hat.

That. Hat.

That hat that saved them. That hat they'd last seen in the House. That hat that blew away on the wind. That hat that was their only upgrade, their only proof of getting somewhere for themself, their only proof of-!

"Woah! Okay, maybe stars aren't so good on hats? What, is it like, it's making a fake sky or something and that's not supposed to happen?" Isa went to put the hat back down, and they all but lunged forward. "NO!"

"No no no, I'm sorry, it's just, it's important, it's a big thing, I'm sorry, please let me have it, I'll pay you back, any amount you want, anything, please!"

They were babbling, but they couldn't seem to stop. That Hat. The memory of an orrery, of a tale they could only remember in their blankest moments, the memory of how they'd fought their way through. Of their darkest hours, too. But…It had been there.

"Woah woah woah! That's…Okay, star hats are good, got it! I'll tell you what…You tell me what's so important about this hat, and I'll pay for it entirely. Otherwise, it's a loan, you get it?"

Isa's voice had a laugh in it that Siffrin clung to as a lifeline. They slowly pulled themself back into place, like a sailor climbing back aboard after falling off their ship. They were here, not there. They didn't have it. They barely had their dagger. They didn't…need something, that armoured them, that saved them like it did. But at the same time…

"Alright, but it's…Loop stuff, not Island stuff. So…After we get out of here, okay?"

"Alright!" A heavy hand deposited it onto Siffrin's head, and they had the decency to blush about it, even if they did press up into the hand (not at all like a cat don't ask questions) and smile. "And if that's a Loop thing, you don't have to even tell me about it. I've never seen loop stuff make you that happy. Or…I guess, make you smile, a little? Either way, it's nice to know they weren't all bad! Even when you weren't trying your hardest."

Siffrin paused at that phrasing, and then gave a nod. The hat was theirs. It reminded them, the way it cut off their vision. It kept their eyes forward, and down. Above was only the same stars they always knew…They wondered if that was how everyone else saw the world all the time? But, Isabeau was turning, and starting to look around.

"Rusted garden shears…" Siffrin's wince was missed, thankfully. "A weird needle-pointed sword, some shades, I wonder what all this is about?" The thought made you step up, and look at what Isabeau had found. That was right…It looked like all the equipment you never found, in that last fateful loop, had somehow wound up here. Minus the fish book…Itchy-ology? Icky-ology? Something like that. The fish book, the earrings, and it looked like Bonbon's 'weapons' weren't there either. But the rest of it, all gathered up in one place, like someone'd put it there on purpose.

The world tilted under you.

It wasn't the first time you'd felt that, and you gripped your hands into fists. You were here. You were now. Gravity still worked. Breathing still worked. Don't get lost, Siffrin! Don't lose it, Siffrin! Bob your knees, feel the way the world feels under your feet. Close your eyes, then open them again, and look at things fresh, without the tilt your brain put on it. The tilt wasn't real.

It felt real.

It felt more real than the world around you. You reached out, and touched the sword's hilt, before jerking your hand back like you were burned. Was it going to vanish, now that you've seen it? Would…could…the universe still reset itself? Did you still have its eye? No. The sword was still there, just like the rest, just like the hat on your head, just like all of it.

Isa said something. You couldn't hear what. The words pulsed in your ears, your head throbbing at the tempo of the sounds, but you didn't understand them. Sorry, Siffrin's not here right now, can I take a message? You laughed, and even in your own throbbing ears it sounded like half a sob.

You were hugged! You were held! Hands were around you!

You jumped at the feeling, but it did ground you. The feeling pushed you back into your body like a puzzle piece slotted into place, and whoever held you turned you away from those…items. Dishware, it turned out, was on the other side. Dishes and cups, ancient and cracked, dusty even here.

"You back, Sif?" Isabeau. Isa. He's here. He's holding you. He's…Holding you. You could feel the way every little shift of your breath made sensation flare over your body, the slightest motion pulling and pushing your skin in ways you aren't anticipating, and you shiver. You can't pull away…You can't. You can't tell him this isn't what you want. You have to stay here. You aren't sure why that's what your mind latched onto, but it was true. You wanted to stay there in his arms, even if the back of your brain was screaming about the way it felt.

Stay there. Breathe. Worry later. Breathe. Respond.

"I'm back. But…I think we need to go." You managed, at your breathiest.

"Okay…Do you want to go alone, or should I stay with you?"

Considerate Isabeau. Always at your side, as long as you'll let him be.

"Stay. I'll follow you…we still need to pay for the hat. And, I'm sorry, Isa. About…"

"Don't worry about it!" He cut you off, which was good because you didn't have the words to continue that thought. "I wasn't sure what we were looking for, but it sure wasn't that! We can finish up our secret quest some other day."

You smiled. You'd have to explain yourself later, but…For now, Isabeau was there. Your rock. Your personal Savior.

You were glad to have him.

+++

"Just a collection of…items?" Odile asked, and all you could do was nod.

"Some shears, a hat, a sword, a bow…Just things you'd find in any store. You're sure you don't know?"

"Not at all. He's never done that before."

Siffrin had vanished off to your shared room when you returned, clutching the hat tight to his chest. You promised you'd give him space, and you'd ask before you came in, but in the meantime you felt like you had to solve this mystery. If it hurt Siffrin, you want to know about it, and stop it! Whether he believed it or not!

But this…

"It hit him hard. Almost as hard as that time Mira woke him up from his nap." You didn't think anything would compare to that day. "And he was alright when he wasn't looking at them, like Jinn said. I'm glad I didn't let him go alone."

"You said he found a hat? That he thought he should wear? A sword, like Mirabelle has…and a bow, like she wears. Glasses like mine…" Odile took a moment to adjust her glasses. "I believe I'll be going shopping, Isabeau. If you think you can help him alone?"

You gave a nod, trying not to think about what Odile was saying. You didn't see any gloves there, and with a clench of your hands you felt your crystal knuckles at the ready. Whatever was happening, you couldn't help but wonder how you were excluded from it. As much as you tried not to.

Instead of dwelling on that, you walked upstairs and knocked on the door to your shared room, waiting for the faint sound of 'come in'. Thank Change, it wasn't too long in coming.

Siffrin was staring at his hat when you came in, curled with his knees up near his chin on the bed and facing towards the door. One finger had been tracing the lines on the inside of it, and rested there as you walked in and gently shut the door.

"Want to talk about it?" You asked, hoping against hope.

"No."

"That's a shame." You walked over to the bed, and sat down, watching them. It was a practiced motion, and you both knew what it meant. You saw Siffrin set the hat down, saw him order his words, and saw him decide to speak - and made sure he saw the thankful smile that came from that decision.

"They were from the House. Each one of them was…a piece of the story that never happened. Something else that I left behind." Left behind was good! You liked left behind! It was a lot better than 'crabbed up' or 'completely blinded' or anything else they'd called it! "When I saw them, I…I just remembered. Everything I'd been forgetting. Everything I didn't get to do. Everything I tried to go back and do." You liked that less, but…the phrasing wasn't bad, at least. "I don't know how they got here, but it was like they were tracking me down, to find me again."

"Would you…like new memories with them?" Another one of the doctor's suggestions. "Or do you want to put those behind you? We don't have to go back, but now that you remember…wouldn't it be nice to prove this time was better than anything you left behind?"

"Yeah…Thanks, Isa." They reached a hand out, and you smiled brightly. Another concession, another suggestion, and you took his hand and used your thumb to slide the glove up the back of it, before planting a gentle kiss on the back of it.

Not! That you did that every time! But, every time he opened up, you wanted to give him something. And showing him how you loved him? You'd do that whenever he let you. This was a good chance.

From the smile in their eyes, they agreed.

[epickiya722]

I already made my predictions here on the epilogue, but I want to focus on the Yuko Ozawa part since I know some shippers are in panic about it.

Everything I'm about to say is from the POV of someone who did read MHA and been though 431 and someone who does ship ItaFushi. Do I think anyone should agree with me? No. But what I hope what I'm about to say at least ease your panic for the time being.

With that out the way!

Now, I'll reiterate from my other post.

If I were to guess what Yuko's part will be about, I think she may meet Yuji again. It makes sense. However, Gege being unpredictable, I feel like he may not go about making it something "romantic".

If anything, I think he may go the route as to what happened with Hana and Megumi. It's not going anywhere.

A piece of me feels like with this epilogue Yuji and Yuko will have a heart to heart, but Yuko comes out having a new revelation about herself which is to love herself.

If there's one thing about some of the female cast of JJK is that they're unapologetic themselves.

Nobara and Maki are the biggest examples of this. Other examples are Yuki and Uro. Yorozu even is an example as she didn't care what people thought of her.

Miwa may have a little ship tease with Muta, but even that doesn't stop her of being herself. When we do get a bit of her "hiding" herself, it wasn't for a boy. It was because her mother told her to dye her hair black (as it is naturally blue).

Maybe Yuko could get that treatment here and that's why she was chosen. To give closure to her character that allows her to move on.

Again, Gege is unpredictable. I have a feeling that the reveals of the epilogue was to give fans a heads-up and... what is the word I want to use... I can't exactly explain it, but maybe make fans feel like they're getting this possible romance as a "red herring" as to hide that "Actually, no, none of that here".

Think about what happened to Hana (who is no different than Yuko) and Megumi. Most of the story, she was spent crushing on Megumi but that went nowhere.

Thinking about it, when it comes to F/M relationships here, it really doesn't go anywhere romantically.

Miwa and Muta? Muta is dead.

Got a bit of ship tease with Yuki and Choso and guess what? They're both dead.

Nobara deadass states she would never date Yuji (and I'm sure this extends to Megumi, too).

Shoko says Hell would freeze over before she fell in love with either Gojo or Geto. And those two are dead and happy together in the afterlife. 👀

As I mentioned Hana's crush on Megumi? Girl, might as well move on.

Utahime straight up doesn't like Gojo and he's dead now.

Yuta had that childhood romance with Rika and she died and whatever he has with Maki isn't really canon. They're just friends.

Yorozu had a thing for Sukuna, but he was not feeling her at all. And they're both dead now, so...??

See the pattern here? Wouldn't it be odd for Gege to give Yuko and Yuji something explicitly romantic when they haven't done much before?

Out of the four characters, Yuko is one of the most background of background characters (I say that will love before someone comes for me). Nobara, Uraume and Panda all have some involvement with the more active parts of the story. Much like Fumi and Saori was to Nobara and Tsumiki is to Megumi, she was a character part of Yuji's story.

However, what did those other characters have that she didn't?

A close relationship. You know who else was like this to Yuji?

Rin Amai. "But Kiya, he didn't--" Ah! Rin was also someone from Yuji's past that also was affected by Yuji's presence in some way. And he managed to get some bit of closure to his character. He gets this in 270. Rin apologizes to the kid he didn't stand up for and allowed bullies to harass. Despite not getting forgiveness, he still was able to apologize, accept what is done and move on.

Yuko may get this. Last time, she didn't tell Yuji her feelings because she didn't want him to like her for her looks. That's a regret and one time about JJK characters is they don't want to live with regrets. With Yuko, she may need to tell Yuji her feelings so that she can move on from that regret and focus on being her most unapologetic self.

I don't know Gege personally, but I do feel that this could be the case and honestly, I do hope that it is. It would be good for her and yeah, I don't really feel threatened by her presence. I'm going to still ship ItaFushi so...

[bullet-prooflove]

Christmas Bingo Card 2024: Santa Baby - Armand Truisi x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @5corp1ov3nu5  @maeb99 @ajsljfe  @imgoingslightlymad2376 

Companion piece to:

Sunshine - You bring the sunshine to Armand's life.

Edibles (NSFW) - You help Armand to relax.

Christmas Day starts in a way that Armand could never have expected, with a red Mrs Klaus outfit that he’s sure he’s seen doing the rounds on PornHub.

When he first wakes up there’s a dread in his chest because Clara’s decided he won’t get to see the boys until the evening. That gives him a whole ten hours of sitting there thinking about how alone he is on a day that’s supposed to be dedicated to his family.

It's 10am when the doorbell goes. He’s wearing a Christmas jumper from last year and watching ‘It’s A Wonderful Life’, debating if it’s too early for a little homemade eggnog when he opens the door to see you standing there, looking like Santa’s wet dream.

He has never gotten a boner over this type of shit before but now he can’t get his jeans off fast enough.

“I thought I’d come over and give you your present.” You practically purr as you straddle his lap and Armand thinks he must be the luckiest son of a bitch on earth.

The thing he loves about being with you is that you make him the focus of your attention. It doesn’t matter if the two of you are dancing together at the Bred to Buck, catching up over the counter at the weed shop or simply trying to figure out the logistics of the next fuck, you make him your priority.

When you sink down onto his cock he’s in heaven, his hands grip the fabric of that pretty red velvet dress, bunching it in his fists as he thrusts up into you. Your head tips back, your hair falling over your shoulders, his name on your lips and it’s just the most beautiful fucking thing he’s ever seen.

You ride him like that, slow, unhurried, as if you’ve got all the time in the world and it does something to Armand because no one has ever treated him like this, no one has ever dedicated themselves to him the way that you do.

His hands slip from your waist, tangling in your hair, guiding your mouth back to his. You taste like blueberries, like the edible you’d placed on his tongue before you pulled off his jumper.

A little light relief you’d called it because you know this time of year is hard for him.

That intensity starts to build, each wave crashing through his nerve endings setting them ablaze as you rock against him. He meets you stroke for stroke, short, punctuated thrusts that have you keening for him as your pussy grips him so fucking tight he practically combusts. He buries his face into the hollow of your throat as he climaxes, his release spilling inside of you as he moans your name against your skin.

“Fuck Alma.” He whispers as he tries to catch his breath. “I’m gonna get a fucking hard on everytime I see the colour red after this.”

You laugh then, your fingers combing through his unruly curls, tugging his head back so you can see his face. His hips arch at the sensation, fucking his come a little deeper and he’s thrown back into the euphoria as you start to move once again.

“Merry Christmas.” You murmur, your gaze fixed on as his thumb traces over the apple of your cheek.

Merry fucking Christmas indeed.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[rambles-on-dragon-age]

Tell me you only played the game once and didn't bother to engage with anything going on without telling me. 🙄

I'll respond to that nonsensical drivel in that screen shot under the cut BUT the reason they came onto your post to spew their brainless takes is because hating this game is performative at this point.

There's no reason to just drop it and move on because they crave the attention of hating something popular, of regurgitating the same brainless and nonsensical takes everywhere they can. They were too lazy to engage with what the game offered and just outed themself as such.

I'm also an ADHD'er and was all over the place while playing. I've only played once and look at everything I gleaned from it; imagine what's going to happen when I'm not buzzing on nervous energy and actually get to go through it taking my time and snooping for the small details. This game was genuinely engaging and was like a repeated dopamine hit. Every single detail was built with love and this game screams of lore and worldbuilding in every little piece.

As for that nonsensical drivel in the response screenshotted;;

"The side quests are just going from place to place looking for a note, having a boss fight, rinse and repeat."

You mean like literally every single J/RPG game in existence??? You mean the industry standard?? The thing that has been a staple of RPGs for decades now?? How many of those did we have in Inquisition? I can promise it's at least double what Veilguard gave us. How many in DA2? DAO?

"Every companion quest ends with you having to kill their Generic Big Bad and then make a binary choice for the companion."

Every companion quest mirrors and/or parallels the main story line and themes of the game. The complaint should be that the game is repeatedly beating us over the head with the main themes, but then again it did that and you still missed it apparently.

Every companion quest you've been there with them, as their new employer and then friend, every step of the way. You've seen the build up, the backstory, the stakes, all of it. They TELL YOU that they're too close to the issue and need someone outside of it, ROOK, to help them decide. Do you not have friends? Is that the problem? You don't have friends that help you and then talk you through a decision??' They TELL YOU that they're too close to the issue and need someone outside of it, ROOK, to help them decide. Do you not have friends? Is that the problem? You don't have friends that help you and then talk you through a decision??

"Most of the romances are lacking."

IT'S NOT A GAME ABOUT ROMANCE, IT'S A GAME ABOUT SAVING THE WORLD. The romance is meant to be a little flavor sprinkled on the side!! Play an otome game if you're only here for romance !!!!!

"There's very little conflict between the companions and when they're is they kiss and make up."

This is the first game where you hand select a group of professionals and essentially hire them. This is not a slapdash gang slapped together of whomever was willing to deal with world saving fuckery. Each of the people involved has been with their organization for years or decades and fulfill jobs in a professional capacity. I'm also confused on how repeated death threats counts as "very little conflict". But whatever; you made it clear you didn't really do much in the game so you probably missed the majority of the interpersonal conflicts they had. And yeah. As professionals living in close quarters at the end of the world, I would hope they'd be capable of being adults about it and talk through their problems and learn to live with their differences. Like adults should be able to do.

"Every time a companion is having a problem they get this generic 'I'm here for you' 'thanks rook i feel better now' cutscene."

Do you not... have friends? Do they not have things going on in their lives? In the face of something grave happening, words don't always help. Words won't stop their world from falling apart. Know what does? Knowing someone witnessed their worst and is still willing to stand by them. That if they need a shoulder, that shoulder is there for them. In real life, I've been on both sides of that generic conversation. It makes a difference.

"Every faction is generically good and interchangeable."

Factually incorrect. We even had a whole huge chunk of Davrin's quest to show us the Grey Wardens are actually hiding some really big, really grave secrets. Those are supposed to be some of the premier heroes of the realm. Everything with the Cauldron? Did you skip Davrin's quest? Banter shows that the Crows still torture recruits; they have in-fighting and assassinate their numbers. Lords of Fortune straight up have a murder pit where they throw the bodies of those "willing" combatants. Just because they're trying to show Rook their best face doesn't mean they're all good. You have to pay attention to the stuff in the game, not play with your eyes and ears closed.

"Lucanis is straight up lacking content somehow and got shoved in the pantry when everyone else gets a cool room that changes over time."

You have, again, completely missed the content that was blatantly in the game. Upon asking Lucanis why he's in the pantry and not, you know, in a room in the infinitely generating Lighthouse, he says he feels safe there. There's one entrance/exit so he can't be snuck up on. He can see the food and would know if someone was poisoning him. He's constantly brewing and drinking coffee to stay awake so Spite can't take his body for a walk; he's right there at the source and not walking back and forth to do so. He's also, you know, trying to stay awake so Spite can't take his body for a walk and his comfort level is one that helps him do that. Lucanis has the same amount of content that the other companions have. If you would have paid attention to his characterization as well as what he literally tells you to your face that wouldn't have even been part of the subject.

So I have ADHD right? And my first run of Veilguard took me 83 hours and I know I missed a ton of stuff even though I really tried to slow down and pay attention and read as many codex entries as I could. I’m still finding new stuff on my third run.

So when I see takes that are like “Veilguard is weirdly sexless compared to previous games” then in the same post you say you played 60 hours….like ya, you missed a ton of stuff. Which is fine? But you can’t get mad at the game or the writers for it that’s a you problem.

Or “You can’t talk to the npc’s so I can’t feel empathy for them” when like a) you can b) do you actually care about the people of Thedas like at all? I didn’t need the game to hit me with the empathy stick to care about a world I’ve loved for years. Again, this is a you problem not a writing problem.

Or “They sanitized/Disneyfied the lore.” Ugh.

Not saying you need to play the game again because I don’t care and honestly you don’t deserve it anyways but like if you’re going to say stupid shit at least be able to back it up.

[snatcher-no-snatching]

Hey, got another little platformer for y'all. It's called Lunistice. It's cute, fast-paced, handles well, and has really nice music. It's short and sweet, I just beat the main game in ~3 hours, but fun the whole way through. It's on sale on steam rn for like 4.50$ so pick it up if you have the chance

[puppyeared]

littlest furth shop

@laikascomet

[bacchuschucklefuck]

pygmalion and galatea for aroace people

you should tell your friends what I look like, riz gukgak.

[boxofoxberry]

found siblings, anyone?

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Books of 2024: THE AMBERGRIS TRILOGY by Jeff VanderMeer.

Up next! This series is how I'm bridging my current writing/revision project with the one on deck for my personal nano. They're both Weird Stories, but the one I'm working on now is Weird (genre), like VanderMeer, and the one I'm planning for November is going to be Weird (fungus), also like VanderMeer. I hope to get Driscoll vibes AND some New Book vibes out of this!

[pemprika]

hnk ch. 100 thoughts (spoilers)

Making a full-on separate post because I thought there was a lot to draw from in this recent chapter... I needed to document it, so here is my veryy long thought bubble on hnk 100:

The chapter felt like a depiction of Phos in transition to accepting themself and adapting to a new phase of peace that they hadn’t experienced before. While young Phos had a carefree life, they were perpetually stuck feeling useless, never satisfied with the way they lived, and gradually lost all their friends, selfhood, and purpose.

It’s a little difficult to emotionally match the pacing of the story considering how often the series goes on hiatus now, but note that Phos had only recently come to terms with their own flaws and the reasons why everything ended up the way it did. They had a wish to be happy, and meeting these lifeforms allowed them to realize the meaning of their existence and be more content with it.

That poetic verse was introspective and contemplative. Rather than placing worth based on certain levels, like the gems’ hardness levels or Lunarians’ caste system, these rudimentary rocks perceive that all life is made equal. For thousands of years, gems tied their own value to a designated role, and if they couldn’t fulfill it, they devalued their existence. We saw a lot of perspectives throughout Phos’ journey, including how Rutile “failed” as a doctor for being unable to fix Padapradscha on their own, or how Dia “failed'' to live up as a diamond with refined fighting skills compared to their rivaled counterpart. Again, these are just flawed traits passed down from their human predecessors and the curse of immortality.

The chapter ending conveyed a hopeful conception that all things, primitive or refined, come from the same place (nature). I struggled to connect the details mentioned in ch 97 before, but it gave us sooo much foreshadowing to this new world. Dr. Ayumu said that, “the inorganic things that we had been using for ourselves will soon have a world of their own'', alluding that these little guys that Phos met are the new world.

 Interesting how Dr. Ayumu wanted Adamant to “build the bridge” and Phos to “burn the bridge” in order to create this “beautiful, rational world” to be a more freeing and less destructive place, and refresh the Earth to avoid relying on human values and qualities to stay self-fulfilled.

I was talking with @/mlkinis who brought up an interesting theory of using rocks in this new arc to symbolize the reversion of materialism. The rocks, elements derived from basic nature, have vastly different virtues compared to the gems, a class of refined minerals that developed a habitual routine of upkeep socially and culturally. While gems are also made from the Earth, they are perceived as high-value and are often polished to be artificially beautiful. 

One Buddhist principle reflects on detaching oneself to worldly possessions and desires, such as wealth, in order to attain inner peace, and it seems that having these primitive rocks is a representation of Phos “letting go” of the gem society, which may be another way of showcasing that the world is returning back to life as the way it once was, and that Phos is on a path to attaining ultimate happiness. I’m wondering if Dr. Ayumu’s line, “When you cross that bridge, burn it” refers to Phos leaving their suffering behind as they’re going forth to being happy in this new world that is coming to be...

Anyway, upon reading the passage, along with meeting the sentient rocks and hearing its rock friend sing the verse, I felt like Phos reconciled with their own self and existence, and melted from feeling at peace 🥺😭!! Thank you, Ichikawa as always… This was a very cool and comforting chapter for me.

[beaulesbian]

absolutely love this weird luck or instinct that zoro has, that even if he gets completely lost, or is going in the wrong direction, he ends up where he needs to be (*cough*and usually close to luffy)

in the sabaody archipelago arc, this was really my favorite subplot, of just zoro being lost (enjoying his walk in a completely new place where he can't attack anyone who hurts him or others, and can't draw too much attention to him) but ending up at the place they all were moving towards:

they docked the ship at grove 41 and decide to meet there after finding what they needed to find.

zoro decides to go for a walk

and all he has to remember is the grove's number. easy enough, right? well...

because something in their universe really wants him to end up at a different place, so he sees only #1 instead #41.

later when camie gets kidnapped and then after some time the rest of the strawhats, who are scattered around the island, know the information that she would be at grove #1, zoro still doesn't know that - he just knows he needs to get to grove #1 bc he thinks that's where their ship is.

they're all just separately hurrying to the location, while zoro's asking for directions and then searching for the wrong (right) grove.

and ofc the person that he meets first from their crew is luffy, flying on the fish, about to wreck into the building

(i saw the anime version too, but i really like the fast pace of this part in the manga)

it's just so funny that luffy and zoro met before this building, the grove #1, and luffy yelled at zoro to hold on and they both crashed inside.

zoro still not knowing why he isn't at the place where the sunny should be, but at a completely different location - but still a location that he needed to be at, at the right time right place with this whole crew (and just before things get much worse).