#Sunrise winter canvas

[4homestylist]

Winter Serenity Wall Art | Frosted Clover at Sunrise

"Create a peaceful atmosphere in your home with this stunning winter-inspired wall art. Featuring a delicate frozen clover against a breathtaking snowy sunrise, this artwork embodies tranquility and nature's beauty. Perfect for modern, minimalist, or Nordic-inspired home decor, this piece is ideal for bedrooms, living rooms, or cozy winter spaces. Bring the calm of a frosty sunrise into your home today!"

GIT IT BUY HERE

[waldau-archived]

hii! I've noticed that you haven't written anything for minghao yet (according to your master list) so I wanted to request something cozy and homey with him. like maybe cooking together or waking up together or something along those lines.. :)

hello anon! i was feeling extra sappy with minghao and this also happens to be my first work for him. thank you so much for requesting it, i hope you see this!

gender neutral reader. warnings: none.

muse — xu minghao | 1,382 words | fluff

minghao blinks his eyes open to the sound of silence. there’s not much he can hear right out, except for the distant sound of cars going past. he lazes around for a few more moments before giving in and checking the time on his phone.

it’s just shy of six in the morning. he needs to be up and at the studio by nine, but he doesn’t feel like moving just yet. he puts his phone away and turns around to you, to watch you sleep.

the first time he’d ever done it was unfortunately a time you weren’t actually asleep, and he’d ended up staring at you for ten minutes before you woke up and apologized to him, saying that you couldn’t pretend to stay asleep without wanting to burst into laughter.

he still remembers how embarrassed he’d been by that, and how you made it up to him with kisses and multiples reassurances that it had been okay, that he could do it again, that it wasn’t a problem at all, you’d just been caught off-guard the very first time.

the thing is — minghao adores you. he’s in awe of you. to him, no one else on this planet even compares to how exquisite you are. he loves how like-minded the two of you are, how affectionate you’re with him, and how much you support him without even saying any words. of course, he loves going out on dates with you, seeing new places with you, seeing you match the outfits he wears, but this might just be his favourite sight in the world.

this being seeing you asleep on your side, facing him, a hand tucked under your head and the other holding his own. as an artist, he’s used to noticing the finer details about everything he sees, so when it comes to you, he could lose himself for hours noticing every single thing about you that makes him love you more.

minghao gently untangles his hand from your grasp, drawing his own blanket over you properly so that you don’t feel cold. he immediately feels the cold winter air hit his bare arms, and he winces as he gets used to it. he’s going to need to workout before he leaves, because there’s no time for it in the evening. not if he wants to finish work fast enough to come back to have dinner with you.

his fingers itch for a brush. it’s been a while since he’s painted something. the last thing he’d put on his canvas had been a rendition of a sunrise he’d been able to see with you a few weeks ago. it had been magical; the beautiful hues of orange and yellow blending with the shimmering brightness of the sea, contrasting the pale hue of the sky.

but nothing looked more beautiful than you sitting next to him, watching the sun rise and letting the water wash over your legs. he’d been tempted to paint you instead, right there, but you’d dragged him out on a monday morning for inspiration, despite the fact that both of you had work soon, and he wasn’t going to let it go to waste.

but he doesn’t really need inspiration. not when you’re his muse.

he runs his fingers across your face as gently as he can, glad that you’re still asleep. you’ve been having trouble sleeping recently, and he’s glad he’s part of why you’ve been sleeping better. he smiles when he notices two faint pillow creases stamped into your cheek, angry red lines that he hopes don’t hurt you at all. you somehow manage to look even more perfect with them.

he doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at you before your eyes blink open slowly, and somehow his eyes are the first thing that yours find. he holds his breath, waiting for you to speak.

“hao?” you ask, voice croaky. “what time is it?”

minghao checks his phone again. “six thirty-seven. you still have twenty three more minutes to sleep, if you want.”

“mm,” you say, before you roll in closer and pull his arm to yourself. “wake me up at seven, then.” before he can say anything, you look up at him. “aren’t you supposed to leave early today?”

he nods. “do you want me to leave?”

you huff and tug at his arm to pull him closer to yourself, and he goes down willingly. “you know that’s not what i meant.”

“what did you mean, then?” he asks, pinching your nose softly.

you’re used to his teasing by now, so you just roll your eyes throw an arm around his waist. “did you sleep well, hao?”

“really well. you?”

“me too. but…how long were you staring at me this time?”

he feigns shock. “you could tell?”

“i can just…feel it, somehow,” you giggle. “won’t you tell me?”

“do you really want me to?”

“of course,” you say, eyes shining despite the layer of sleep clinging to them. minghao wishes he could spend more time with you like this. it’s almost like you’re forcing yourself to stay awake despite having some more time to sleep, just to talk to him. the thought warms his chest.

“maybe forty minutes? maybe more.”

there’s a grin on your face. “correct me if i’m wrong, but…i think you love me?”

he could just refute it, tease you a little, joke that you’re in too deep, but he can’t. there’s something about the early hours of the morning combined with the fact that he has the honour to wake up with you that makes his heart heavy. he’s lucky to even have this, especially with you.

“you’re right,” he says, voice rough, feeling his waterline sting suddenly. “i love you.”

the grin on your face disappears slowly. “hao? is everything okay?”

“of course it is, darling,” he says, bending down to kiss your forehead, brushing off some rogue strands of hair to kiss it properly, tucking it behind your ear so he can see your beautiful face better. “i love you. is that wrong?”

“no, silly,” you say, leaning up to cup his cheek in your palm. your hand is cold. maybe he should’ve warmed you up better. “you sound…sad. like there’s something eating at you.”

he closes his eyes and indulges himself in your touch, trying to work out his words, marvelling at how easily you can read him. “i…love you. you know that, right?”

“yeah. i love you, too. but…?”

“but,” he sighs, “i just…don’t have the right words to tell you how much i love you. i could say i love you a thousand times, but it wouldn’t be enough. i could kiss you a thousand times and it wouldn’t be enough. i could…i could ask you to marry me but nothing would be enough to tell you how thankful i am that you’re here with me. that you’re mine.”

silence, just the two of you in your bedroom, the sounds of life filtering in from outside the window.

your breath is shaky when you speak. “hao.” you drop your hand down to his arm. “i love you, too. you don’t…i don’t need any grand gestures from you. just…be with me. every single day. be mine forever. that’s it.”

“there’s nowhere else i want to be.”

“then that’s all i need.”

minghao presses a kiss to your head. he hopes it conveys everything he’s feeling right now. he’s about to say something more when your alarm goes off, and he really should get going if he doesn’t want to reach work late.

“see you in the evening?” you ask, hand catching his as he attempts to get to his feet. “maybe we can talk about…getting married? for real?”

minghao hasn’t even opened the curtains yet, and he feels like he’s standing in front of the sun again. he’s going to go to work, do well, come back home to you and hold you and hear about your day and eat with you. he’s going to surprise you with a painting of yourself, and he’s going to marry you. that’s the life he’s built for himself with you, and he loves it.

it’s all he needs to keep going, every single day.

“i can’t wait. i’ll be back before you know it, darling.”

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched @minnieminshi @nonononranghaee @hrts4hanniehae @viewvuu @bewoyewo

[wh0re43van]

Baby fever Pt 3 (Evan Peters X Reader)

Summary: Theres been tension between you and Evan for months due to your struggle to conceive. You guys decide to go out for a nice dinner to get your mind off of things.

Word Count: 3.4K

Warnings: mentions of wine?, small argument?

A/N: I’m sorry guys I thought I uploaded this like two hours ago 😭 this will probably be the last part of this little series <3

Pt1 , Pt2

It’s been about three months since Evan and I have started trying for a baby. We know that it takes time, but that doesn’t take the sting out of the 10 negative tests we’ve gotten.

I sigh, resting my head on the window glass as I see the elementary kids at the bus stop awaiting their ride to school. A few are chasing each other, a pair of kids are sat down on the sidewalk as they share the same set of earbuds, and one kid stands quietly as they hold their backpack close to their chest. The warm hues of the morning sunrise cascades down on the group of tiny people. Orange and pink sun rays bounce of their coats, hats, and laughs that come out as puffs of condensation.

I smile to myself as I hold my herbal tea up to my lips, the steam coming from the beverage fogging up the cold window. I imagine what Evan would look like as he walks our child to the bus stop. What kind of silly dad pajama bottoms and stained hoodie set would he take our child out in. The image of Evan holding our little one’s hand makes my heart swell.

The click of the deadbolt unlocking grasps my attention. I turn to see Evan walking through the door with a few bags of groceries. He gives me a small smile as he sets the shopping down on the table.

“I still think it’s a bit early for grocery shopping,” I giggle as I pull him into a loose hug. He rests his head on top of mine, his hand instinctively twirling my hair.

“I know. I’ve been up since 5:00 am so I figured I might as well get up and do something,” he sighs. Evans been more beaten up about this than I imagined. I’ve tried to explain to him that it takes time, and you have to wait at least 3 weeks before you can get a positive result, but he doesn’t care much to listen. He’s just so ready to be a dad; to have that little bundle of joy in his arms. He already has so much love for a child that hasn’t yet been conceived.

“Would you like some coffee?” I ask as I look up at him with a small smile.

“That would be very nice,” he grins, leaning down to place a small kiss to my lips. I turn, reaching for the coffee grounds as he unloads the groceries.

“What did you get?” I ask curiously.

“Oh just some staple foods we were running low on: peanut butter, bread, butter…” he explains as he put each item away in their rightful home. “Oh and I found these pregnancy tests that let you know a week early!” He beams as he shuffles over to me, pulling six ‘Clear Blue’ pregnancy tests out of the canvas shopping bag.

“Evan,” I giggle, looking at him in confusion. “Why did you get so many?” I ask as I pour the fresh brewed coffee into his favorite mug.

“Oh, uh, I don’t know. Just want to be prepared I guess,” he shrugs before turning back to the shopping bags. “Oh y/n look at this,” he says excitedly. I turn, handing him his coffee when I see the little bear onesie in his hand. “Isn’t this just the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?” He asks genuinely, the biggest, goofiest smile on his face and pure joy glinting in his eyes. This man melts my heart.

“It’s adorable,” I giggle, walking over to examine the outfit. It’s a brown, fleece, hooded onesie with bear ears and bear feet attached. I notice that its size newborn, but I don’t have the heart to tell him that even if I were pregnant right now, the baby would get here in August and we would have no use for this winter outfit. I just smile to myself and kiss him on the cheek before walking back over to the coffee pot to prepare my own drink.

“Woah! Is that caffeine free?” Evan asks urgently as he sets his mug down, spilling a bit before he rushes to me.

“Uh, no?” I look at him confused. He takes the coffee out of my hand.

“I read online that you shouldn’t consume caffeine while pregnant,” Evan explains. I raise my eyebrows at him.

“Okay… well I’m not pregnant yet,” I try to laugh it off and grab the pot out of his hand. He yanks it back, holding it up and out of my reach. “Y/n I’m serious. It’s not good for you or the baby,” he furrows his brows. I can feel my blood pressure start to rise out of anger.

“There is no fucking baby, Evan! I took another test a few days ago, and guess what? It came out negative just like all of the other ones! So please give it a rest!” I shout, surprising myself at how aggressive that came out; I guess I was holding that back for a while. Evan takes a step back, betrayal creeping into his face.

“There is no need to shout,” he says lowly, gritting his teeth. He doesn’t break eyes contact with me as he sets the coffee pot down. I know I’ve angered him. He has this calm demeanor when he’s pissed off; He never raises his voice or puts his hands on anyone, but when he’s mad the look in his eyes will strike the fear of god into you.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I furrow my brow back at him. I’m not sure where this sudden anger came from, but now I can’t stop it. Now that I think about it, there’s been a bit of tension between us after the first few negative tests. It’s almost like he gets upset with me every time we find out that I’m not pregnant. I’m sure he doesn’t mean it that way and that he doesn’t blame me for our struggle to conceive, but I can’t help the thought from creeping in.

“You’re the one that snapped on me out of no where,” he says sternly, clenching his jaw. “Come on, what’s your problem? You’ve been cold towards me for months,” he asks seriously. I scoff, feeling my ears burn red.

“Me? Evan you’re the one that won’t talk to me for the rest of the fucking day every time that goddamn stick only has one fucking line!” I scream, not believing what I’m hearing come out of his mouth. He steps closer to me, intimidating me with his proximity. There’s no need for him to shout; He knows his glare speaks much louder.

“I’m going to our room. Come talk to me once you’ve calmed down,” he says through tight lips before silently walking away. I let out a frustrated sigh, pushing a box of frozen waffles off the counter as I flop down on.

‘I’m a fucking idiot’ I kick myself. We needed to talk about these feelings, but it’s just been so tense between us. The past few weeks I’ve been so emotional and there’s just been a tension hanging between Evan and me.

I sigh, standing up straight then finish putting the groceries aways. I decide to make Evan pancakes from scratch as a poor apology.

About an hour has passed and I’m taking the last pancake off the stove as footsteps sound down the hallway.

“You never came to talk,” I hear Evans’ sad voice as he comes around the corner.

“Well, I thought I would make you breakfast first,” I give him a small smile. Guilt rushes over me when I look into his eyes that are glistening with sadness. ‘How could I have yelled at him like that,’ I think to myself as he looks at me like a disappointed puppy. “Evan I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lashed out like that. I’ve just been so on edge lately. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that… I know you’re just excited for the baby, but I feel like I’m disappointing you,” I sigh I pull two plates out of the cabinet. Evans hands quickly wrap around my waist, pulling me into a hug.

“You could never disappoint me, y/n,” he says sweetly, placing a kiss on top of my head. “I just got a bit carried away, I’m sorry. All I’ve been thinking about is starting a family; I don’t mean to put any pressure on you.” he says genuinely as he rubs his hands on my back.

“I love you, Evan,” his words make tear up but I keep my head pressed against his chest so he can’t see. He always manages to melt my heart with his kind words.

“I love you baby,” he pulls away to look at me. “Why don’t we go to that Italian place you like for dinner? We can have a nice night out to destress,” he offers with his award-winning smile. I sniffle, nodding my head.

“I’d love that,” I say with a grin. He grabs my hand, placing a kiss on top before helping himself to the pancakes on the table.

•

•

The rest of the day went pretty smooth. We didn’t speak of the baby at all, just spent some time together; it was lovely.

I get ready for our date, picking out a simple black dress. I slip it on and examine myself in the mirror. A frown creeps onto my face when I see my reflection, suddenly feeling insecure. As if on cue, Evan walks into the room sporting nothing but a pair of black slacks.

“You know, that’s one of my favorite dresses on you,” he says sweetly. I watch him through the mirror as he lays down on our bed, propping his head up on his hand to admire me.

“I was about to change. I feel like you can see how bloated I am in it,” I scoff, turning to look at him. He sits up from the bed, drawing his brows down.

“Y/n you look stunning. What the hell are you talking about?” he asks in disbelief. I trudge over to him, plopping down and resting my forehead on his bare shoulder.

“I don’t know,” I sigh honestly. “I just feel like I’ve been swollen and bloated for the past few weeks and it’s not even time for my period,” I groan into his arm. He chuckles, placing a warm hand on back.

“You need to be nicer to yourself. You look just as beautiful-if not more- than the first time I ever saw you,” he says softly before placing a kiss to the top of my head. I sit up, looking at him with awe.

“How do you still make me blush, even after all these years?” I giggle as my cheeks burn pink.

“I just have that effect on women,” he laughs as he stretches his arms above his head, purposefully flexing his biceps. I roll my eyes.

“Whatever,” I laugh as I stand from the bed. “Get dressed, Casanova,” I tease as I walk to the bathroom. He stands up without saying anything then gently slaps my ass. I can’t help but laugh to myself as he runs out of the room like a child who’s just stolen a piece of candy.

•

•

The car ride was full of jokes and positive energy. Now we sit in this lovely restaurant with a live orchestra and decorative fountains. It’s a bit flashy for my taste, but the food and service are so good that I can’t complain. Evan sits across from me in his signature formal wear: a white button-up and black slacks. He took the time to slick his brown curls down and away from his face and trim his beard and mustache a bit to better fit in with the black-tie atmosphere.

The waitress soon approaches our table with a bottle of wine (which looks much more expansive than any bottle that I pick up at Target) then sets the glasses on the table and opens the wine. Evan speaks up, asking her to leave the bottle as he wants to pour it himself. She smiles before walking away.

“I got this especially for you,” Evan laughs as he picks up the glass bottle. “So if you don’t like it, you owe me $500,” he teases as me pours me my drink. I almost choke on my breath.

“Evan are you crazy?” My eyes nearly pop out of my head. He chuckles at my expression as he pours his own serving.

“Crazy for you,” he winks, knowing that was insanely cheesy. “Plus, I’ve been kind of persuading you not to drink and eat certain things incase we conceive without realizing it, so this is my apology for trying to control your body,” he grins sympathetically, holding his glass of wine out. With a smile, I grab my glass and meet his with a clink. He takes a drink, but when I hold the earthy liquid up to my mouth, I pause. I consider his words about possibly being pregnant. I took a pregnancy test just a few days ago and it was negative like always. I shrug it off taking a sip of the bitter drink.

The night goes on, lovely as ever. It almost feels like an anniversary date with our reminiscing and sharing of old pictures, the high class atmosphere, the expensive wine. The night was perfect, honestly. Evan seemed to have been stressed because he drank nearly the whole bottle of wine on his own in less than an hour.

“God, you’re just so- and you’re such a… and kind! You’re so kind Y/n!” he stammers out with boyish giggles as he pauses every few words to manually sort through each of his thoughts. I laugh at the wine drunk man slouched in his seat

“Thank you, Ev,” I place a hand on his face from across the table.  He leans into the touch as he closes his eyes, his lips curling into a small content smile.

“Hey how come you didn’t drink yours?” he queries as he picks up my mostly full glass of wine, sloshing some of the dark liquid out of the vessel onto to the stark white tablecloth.

“Evan!” I whisper, snatching the glass from him. “Well, someone has to drive you home,” I giggle, shaking my head at the 36-year old child in the seat across from me. I give him the excuse of being the designated driver, but it was actually almost instinctual as to why I haven’t had much to drink. “Speaking of which, I think it’s time to go home,” I raise my eyebrows at Evan who’s got the wine bottle up to his eye, searching for more of the rich liquid. I snatch the bottle out of his hands. He stands from his seat trying to grab it back, but stumbles backwards into his chair. “Jesus Christ, Evan! You aren’t supposed to get trashed in a place like this,” I scold him as I motion around at the elegance of the building. He just shrugs his shoulders.

“Hey! I paid to be here just like everyone else,” he rolls his eyes and flicks his wrist, snapping his fingers.

“I hate when you get wine drunk,” I sigh, shaking my head at the pure sass radiating off my husband. He just smiles at me with droopy eyes. I laugh, then call for the check.

•

•

After arriving home, I force my drunk husband out of his dress clothes so he can put his pajamas on. Evan is standing in the middle of our room in just his boxers as I sort through our dresser for his sweat pants and an old t-shirt. I carry the clothes over to him, then he suddenly grabs my hips pulling me into a kiss, swaying a bit on his feet.

“What if we try again tonight?” he asks lowly in my ear, catching me off guard, his energy now much different from his giggling self.

“I think maybe we should just get ready for bed,” I whisper back as he places small kisses down my neck, his strong hands pulling my body closer to his.

“That’s no fun,” he looks at me, frowning.

“Come on Ev. You’re drunk and I’m still sore from the other night. Let’s just get you in bed,” I smile, leading him to the mattress. He begrudgingly allows me to dress him before he lays down on our bed. Once he’s settled, I head to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

As I reach over the counter into the cabinet to grab a cup, I see the bag of the fancy pregnancy tests that Evan bought. I get my water and take a few sips while staring at the bag, contemplating whether I should use one. I shrug, taking one up to the bathroom with me so I can get ready for the night.

I set the box on the bathroom counter before taking off my makeup. As I walk to the toilet to use the bathroom, my eyes glance back over to the blue and white box.

‘You’re supposed to do it in the morning, it wouldn’t be accurate right now anyway,’  I think to myself as I pull up my dress, sitting down on the toilet, but in the same breath I think, ‘Evan bought like half a dozen, wasting one won’t hurt,’ I convince myself to hop up, reaching for the blue and white box, reading the directions quickly. I do as directed and allow the test to sit for two minutes. I turn away, brushing my teeth anxiously for the longest two minutes of my entire life. ‘I don’t know why I’m so worked up this time. I know it’s going to be negative,’ I think to myself as I put my tooth brush back in its holder. My heart drops to my stomach when I see the result of the test. I turn the other set of lights on in the bathroom so I can see it clearly. I blink my eyes as I hold the plastic closer to my face. I don’t believe my eyes.

‘pregnant’ is staring back at me in the small digital window of the pregnancy test. I smile, holding it to my pounding chest.

‘This could be a false positive. I’ll have to take another one in the morning,’ I rationalize in my head. ‘Should I tell Evan? If it’s a false, he’ll be crushed,’ I frown. As if Evan knows every time I’m thinking about him, he stumbles into the bathroom.

“Holy shit baby why do you have the LED’s on,” he hisses as he covers his eyes, trudging to the toilet in a drunken stupor. I stand still, just staring at the test in my hands, unsure of what to do. Evan yawns as relieves himself in the small room that the toilet is in.

“This could be false,” I start as I look at his backside. “But this test is positive,” I say quietly, unsure if he can hear me over the gallons he’s pissing. “Jesus, Evan,” I raise my eyebrows at how much he’s going.

“What?” he asks after a pause while turning his ear towards me, seemingly unsure if he heard me correctly. I wait for him to finish. Once he adjusts his pants and turns around, I take a deep breath before handing him the test.

“Now this could be false but-“ I begin as he tries to focus his tired, drunken gaze on the small letters on the test.

“Pregnant,” he reads aloud slowly. He looks up at me with wide eyes and a slack jaw before pulling me into a tight hug.

“Now like I said Ev, it could a false positive,” I remind him as I giggle against his chest.

“No way,” he looks at me with tears of joy streaming down his face. As soon as I see his tears, my own roll down my cheeks. He places a gentle hand on my stomach, using the other to wipe his eyes.

“How long until we can feel it kick?” he asks genuinely with pure joy glinting in his eyes. I giggle at his eagerness.

“It’s gotta grow legs first,” I snicker as he rests his forehead against mine. He laughs when he realizes how silly of a question that was before placing a gentle kiss to my lips.

“Lets get you to bed, Mama,” he picks me up, seemingly much more sober now, to carry me to our bed.

[fanaticsnail]

Uncharted Horizons

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 2,100+

Synopsis: A high-flying trapeze artist enjoys her morning practice before the assortment of rabblerousing crew joins her in her solice. Unbeknownst to her, an onlooker watching her routine was working up the courage to finally confess to his harboured feelings growing in his chest while he watched on over his morning coffee.

Themes: Buggy x Ari (One Piece Original Character), fluff, trapeze, love confession, minor sense of peril, kisses.

Notes: This is for my beautiful friend, @okanadafreakingfan, who drew me a gorgeous picture of my OC Tobiuo and Heat a little while ago. I adore writing for original characters, and I hope you like it as much now as you did when I first showed you, Okana! Divider by @/firefly-graphics. Ao3 link Here.

Not a sound nor whisper echoed within the circular arena beneath the large, red and white tent shrouding the grounds from sunlight. Morning dews covered the bleachers from the first kiss of winter, ice clutching the railing that appeared due for a polish and clean. The rays begun to twinkle through the splits in the tarp to color the ground in stripes of gold, a contrast to the nights’ manufactured spotlights that danced on the skin and sequined leotards and costumes. 

Ari was the artist, aerial mastery was her tool, and the air was her living and breathing canvas. Those witnessing a true maestro to the symphony of skies were often left astounded at the end of a whimsical performance. Her cotton candy pink hair, her brilliant smile, and the glitz and glamour that comes with being a member of the Buggy Pirates had long since left her after a week-long run of shows for the public. Now stripped back to basic black, Ari chalks her hands and verbalises her cues while readying herself for a run-through of the script and performance.

“And now presenting: the angel in the skies, taking flight as a gift from Buggy the Clown to you,” she utters, repeating her captain’s words in a soft tone. Her hands reached forward as the chalk made contact with the frayed ropes to form a tacky hold over the fibres. As she jumped up to grip the tanned ropes, she visualised more of his speech. Scampering up the ropes, she finally brushed her fingers against the circular hoop and gripped it firmly. 

Drawing up her knees to her chest, Ari thrust her heels immediately outwards to propel herself forward. Her biceps tensed and flexed as she began to swing from below her hoop. To and fro, her body surged forward until she deemed it enough to roll her stomach beneath it and anchor her hips to the base of the ring. Presenting out her wrist, the aerial performer flicked her fingers and pointed her toes in a motion depicting poise, grace, and elegance. 

Should this had been a performance night, her cheeks would be blooming with a flush as she forced a smile to crawl over her lips. She was no longer bound by such a hindrance. No smile, no laughter, no performance: simply an artist in their element as she performed for no one but herself.

At least, Ari thought that was the case. 

Under the assumption that the majority of the crew would be sleeping off their hangovers after celebrating the conclusion of a successful run, Captain Buggy sauntered into the arena, sans paint and glamor, while holding a fresh mug of his morning coffee. He would usually enjoy this out watching the sunrise, a habit he picked up from an old first mate he knew from long ago, but hearing the rocking of ropes in the arena. 

While participating in the show, Buggy was distraught to admit that he had not had the privilege of simply sitting back and watching the show he worked hard to curate. Back pressed against the pole anchoring the canvas shroud, his jaw fell slack as he gawked at Ari as she slowed the swing to a complete stop. There she was, his starlight, his performer, his woman, simply his - at least, until the lights went out. She was his everything within the arena, the stars to dust his night sky with its illuminance, and in their private lives: barely a whisper of a word to one another aside from chores and orders. 

Ari moved to sit on the ring, perching herself within the middle loop and rolling her ankles at the heels to extend her toes outwards. Her back braced against the side as she arched her arms either side of her person, legs gracefully bent at the knees as one foot gripped the ring and the other tastefully extended acrobatically below her. Slowly rolling herself beneath it, Buggy almost dropped his coffee mug while thinking she was to fall to her death, but she easily caught the ring on her knee and arched her back outwards. 

She looked so peaceful while dangling herself upside down. There was something within that easy tranquility that Buggy witnessed in her closed eyelids. She was at complete peace in her element, and Buggy was awestruck by her majesty. Tugging herself upright, she angled her hips comfortably and began to spin in slow and lazy circles. “Comfy up there, Ari?” Buggy called to her, “You almost look like a cute little bird sittin’ on a perch- Woah-!” 

Ari was startled by the sudden voice as she immediately jolted upright in reaction. Her knee lost its grip on the hoop and her hands clawed at the air to find any brace of substance. Before she began this little run through, she knew she should’ve raised the net to catch her. She had yet to have a fall since the beginning of her journey with the Buggy Pirates, and she trusted herself up until this very point.

The world moved slowly. Each claw and grab for a foundation was split from her as her breath left her body. She was too high up to survive this great drop. At least, not without a-.

“-Fuck, Ari!” The nasally voice of her captain barked at her, catching her mid-flight as his feet lay detached at his ankles a few feet below. Immediately, the infamous clown-captain cradled his pink-haired performer against his chest and slowly began his descent down. Each inch towards the ground held a raspy reprimand towards the aerial performer. 

“Ari, you need to use the nets!”

“Ari, you should’ve had someone to spot you!” “Ari, you need someone to watch over you when you perform!”

“Ari, you’re trying to kill me and yourself at this rate!”

As his ankles touched the ground, he expected his mistress of the skies to release her arms from around his neck. To his surprise, she held on tight and buried her head in the crook of his neck and took a large inhale of breath to steady herself. 

“Ari, are you-?” “-I’m so sorry, Captain Buggy,” she mumbled into his neck and sucked in a shaken breath, “I thought I was better than this. I thought I could… I just… I…” Her words left her as she pawed at him to cling to the lifeline and rescuer that spared her of an unfortunate demise. Her breath fluttered at every intake as she fully felt the impact of her earlier decision. 

Without much warning, Buggy turned to look at her bated breaths and darted his eyes over her features. His eyes met hers, his breath matching her own, and his eyes widening as she gazed up at him with an expression he had only dreamed about in the fairytales he was begrudgingly read as a child. She looked up at him like he was her everything. Everything. Someone who had the foundations of becoming the cornerstone of her soul was the expression she wore up at him.

As she leaned in, he found could not deny her of her earthly tether.

Her lips met his in a soft timidity. Slow, soft, unsure, yet desperate for a contact after the feat that nearly claimed her. She mouthed at his lips to part them with every soft swipe of her tongue and extension of her lips. Every moment she pressed onto his skin, a part of him melted away. Initially, his hands flailed at his sides as he failed to comprehend what was occurring in an expression such as this. Yes, he had been kissed before: paid whores, practicing with other young folk in his youth, but this was different. This was sacred. This was almost holy to him, and he had no idea how to react to it. 

Buggy’s hands softly cradled her lower back and drew her closer into him. He tilted his head to avoid his rotund nose from enabling a greater depth should she desire it. Buggy would take what he got from her and be glad for every breath this graced him. He did not fit the mold of a hero often, if at all, and he almost felt like he was milking this moment a little more than he intended.

He was the first to break the kiss, looking down at her with a flutter of his lengthy, blue eyelashes. His teal eyes were indecisive to which of Ari’s he found purchase, but settled on her lips as he spoke with her.

“Ari…” he exhaled softly, as subtle as a whispered confession in a priest’s booth, “...My love, I didn’t mean to yell. I never want you to fear me. I’m… I… I just… fuck.” He huffed out his chuckle and slowly drew his eyes from her heart-shaped lips to her eyes. 

“Ari. Baby, I care about you,” he confessed while drawing his hand up to cup her cheek. Leaning in, he pressed his forehead against hers and shared her breath, “You’re my little songbird, fluttering your wings and sitting on the trapeze. You’re the starlight to my darkening sky, which sounds really corny and stupid now saying it aloud.” He huffed out a small chuckle and closed his eyes. Brushing his rounded nose with hers, he removed any apprehension from his mind at his embarrassment over the bulging sphere - choosing to only focus on her. 

Ari took a moment to calm herself, finally opening her eyes and gazing up into the teal eyes of her saviour. She felt her heart swell with every passing moment, slowly finding a confession dam behind her teeth and refuse to flee them. Buggy remained patient as she hardened her resolve and looked up at him.

“All I am, all I do… I do for you, captain,” she whispered softly, leaning into his hand at her cheek and puckering her lips into his palm, “...I just want to make you proud. I want to make you happy. I sharpen my skills and train so hard in the hopes that it makes you smile - even just once. I…” Her teeth chattered and brows furrowed in her every moment, slowly taking in a breath before she found the words she wanted to say so desperately. 

“I love you.” 

Ari’s lips never found them, growing silent as Buggy articulated the phrase she was searching for. He nodded, slowly solidifying the expression while repeating them on a loop.

“I love you, Ari. I do. You’re everything to me, even if you don’t realise it,” he laughed softly with his eyes crinkling at the corners, “It’s not an act to me. Well, it kind of is considering we’re a fucking circus, but anyway-.” He cut himself off as he gazed into her eyes once more. Leaning forward, he couldn’t stop the emotion from welling up in his guts and pouring from his lips like the sentimental sailor he was born to be. 

A deep and plentiful kiss burned into her skin, initiated by her captain while he drew her ever closer. If he didn’t speak when he chose to, she would not have fallen. If he didn’t catch her when she did, she would no longer be here. He refused to let another moment depart from either of them again without feeling her body as close as she could get to his. 

Slowly backing himself into the bleachers, he continued to kiss her while cupping her thighs and settling her on his lap. He was not doing any of this to coerce her into anything ebbing on  uncomfortable, but in his lazy morning, he simply wanted to be sat while the most beautiful woman of his dreams laid her passion against his lips. Dragging her over his lap, he moved his hands from her thighs to the small of her back while unbreaking his lips from hers. 

This time, Ari was the first to separate her lips from his own. Only slowly, only softly, only apprehensively - the confidence of the performer was stripped from them both in their morning daze. Roosters in town began to crow as the sunlight trickled in to cover their bodies in the sheen of deep amber. Silence was thick between them, but not awkward as they settled into this new reality they found themselves meeting. 

Buggy had confessed his love for the pink-haired performer first, and Ari had ricocheted the affection back to the cerulean-haired clown tenfold in her actions. Where they went from here was up to them, but as the warmth of the morning begun to melt the ice from the bleacher frame, they simply dwelled in the softness of one another's arms.

[illuminatedmysticc]

ART: YOUR EXISTENCE

Your entire existence is grand and majestic

Mystical and beautiful, why look further than that? Why look for something beautiful when your existence is art itself , a masterpiece, a canvas and you are the painter and the canvas itself.

Stop looking for some grand moment or magical experience when You are IT. Is it not freeing that way , that morning sunrise, hot chocolate in the winter , don’t even compare to the warmth and beauty of your very existence. Words wouldn’t do it justice only direct experience.

So close your eyes and put the thoughts aside and all the things you are misidentifying with and feel the undeniable presence be silent because in the presence of silence never equals the absence of God.

Be still and know I am god

[renardiererin]

two slow dancers - h.iwaizumi / chapter one

winter. 

the mornings started darkened, the sky still black, streets silent and lights dimmed. the mornings started with the flip of a light switch, tinted orange and turned down low, just the same as the nights ended. alone and quiet, but there was nothing she would change. 

she woke before the birds. she called it a reward. she’d wake and take her mornings slow, leaving time for her to lay on her bed and sketch in her journal momentarily before the sun slipped through her windows. things were as they always were: perfect. she’d spent years of savings on a small place. one bedroom, not suited for roommates, but it was everything she wanted. more than that, even. she knew from the moment she could choose off campus housing, she was not willing to have a roommate. 

she made herself breakfast, just a bowl of cereal, and sat on her jagged old couch, fabric peeling from the corners of the cushions. she took her seat beside eric, the two year old grey kitten she’d picked up from the shelter just a few weeks prior, and flipped on the tv. she wandered the twenty feet to her dining table— if you could really call it that, and peeled back the plastic wrap on the canvas her mother had given her for her birthday. that’s usually how her mornings went. journal, cereal, tv, paint. she’d paint until she had to stop. then, she’d shower, dry her hair, get dressed, collect her things (or at least what she remembered to grab), and head to class. the few friends she managed to entertain had playfully berated her time and time again for waking up before sunrise when her first on campus class didn’t even begin until afternoon. 

she didn’t have the voice to tell them it was because early morning was the only time she could ever escape the arguing echoing from the kitchen, throughout the walls of her childhood home. habit, she’d say, though it was more ritualistic than anything. a sketch on a page, the splatter of paint on a canvas, words littering a new page, all preferable outlets to anything she’d practiced in her youth. not that they’d know that. she’d never tell. that seemed to be her forte. 

she walked to class, bag clutched over her shoulder as the chill of the cold ran through her bones. head simultaneously empty and all too full, letting her legs carry her where her mind knew to go. 

it was all the same. it always was. she sat down in her photography class, took her seat beside her table partner— a boy whose name she could not recall, and jotted down meaningless notes covered in messy stars and miscellaneous doodles along the page margins. she had no concern about the material being spoken to her. she had little concern for much anymore. after that, she walked to her next class. then her next, then her next, until the classes for the day were over, and she could return home to eric. she’d feed him for the second time, change her clothes, and pass the time. 

just as she always had. just as it would continue. 

^divider by xxbimbobunnyxx

taglist - open, fill out this form to be added/removed

@eggyrocks @itsdragonius @zazathezaer @empathum @aric519 @nobodybutnnoorr @wordsofelie @bae-ashlynn @bakugouswh0r3

[mrs-heelshire]

Are you awake ?

• Gender neutral reader • pure fluff • reviews and reblogs appreciated. •

° Bo Sinclair ° Vincent Sinclair ° Brahms Heelshire. °

Bo

After a long day spent arguing over everything and nothing with your boyfriend, Bo, you went to bed on your own. You were as mad at him as he was at you and even if you both knew that the next day, everything would already be forgotten, it was in your room that you went and not in his which was now your shared room. Bo didn't stop you, going to bed alone in his room.

Even if it was on your own that you decided to sleep in your own room, it was not that you managed to fall asleep. It was hot and yet the weather was humid, which could only mean one thing: a thunderstorm was approaching. Storms didn't necessarily scare you, but you didn't feel comfortable this time around. Finding no comfortable sleeping position, you end up getting out of bed with a long sigh. There was no way you could sleep alone tonight. It was like you were craving him.

Leaving your room, you took the direction of his, knocking on the door of it.

“Babe… are you awake?” You asked through the door. A door that opened almost right away.

“What is it, Darlin’?” He questioned you, immediately noticing that something was wrong, seeing that you were shivering.

“I… I’m sorry for today, my words were too harsh, and I was on your back all day… I shouldn’t have, and I have no excuses but… Can I sleep with you?” You mumbled as you nervously tweaked your fingers, looking down.

It wasn’t like you at all to apologize like that, and he knew it very well. That was why he instantly knew that something was wrong. Opening his door wider, he shifted to the side to let you in.

“Come here Darlin’.”

Walking in, you barely gave him time to close the door behind you before throwing himself into his arms to kiss him. As he hugged you with his arms, you could smell motor oil, cigarettes, and sweat emanating from his body, but you didn't care. He was everything you needed right now. All you wanted was him, and this was exactly what he was going to give you.

Vincent :

It wasn’t unusual for your boyfriend to stay the whole night in the basement, working on his art, but that night, it was different. It was a cold night of December, you had a hard time falling asleep from the coldness of this winter in Ambrose. You were shivering as you opened your eyes around 3 am in your shared bed, instantly making you groan as you saw the time it was. Only wearing thin pajamas, you wrapped yourself in a blanket before putting on a pair of socks to rush to hasten you to join the one you love in his basement. There was no way you could stay alone in that bed anymore, at the risk of turning you into a statue of ice before sunrise.

Knocking at the door before opening it, you slowly descended the stairs to join him. The warmth of the basement enveloped you the moment you opened the door, making you sigh in relief as you closed it behind you. That was exactly what you were looking for, a warm place to sleep with the man you love.

“Love…? Are you still awake ?”

Candles of all shapes and sizes were lit all over the vastness of this room, but you knew very well that didn't necessarily mean he was awake. Fortunately, he was. Working on a canvas, Vincent raised his head when he heard you approach him. Even if he had been immersed headlong into his work for long hours, he hadn't lost track of time. He knew very well what time it was, and that was what worried him about seeing you here. Tilting his head to the side, he was waiting for you to explain the reason for your presence here.

“It’s cold up here… Can I sleep here tonight? With you?” You softly asked, walking toward him.

A barely audible sigh of relief escaping his lips, Vincent obviously nodded at your request. How could he ever refuse you anything? Impossible, he loved you so much. Kissing his lips through the mask he wore over his face, you headed for the mattress that was there to drop into. Spreading out the blanket you had brought with you, you placed it on top of the one that was already on the mattress. Snuggling yourself well beneath those two blankets, a second sigh of well-being escaped your lips as your gaze rested on your boyfriend. You expected to be able to fall asleep watching him work, one of your cute sins, but to your surprise, he was putting everything away. And soon enough, he joined you under the covers, coming to curl up against your back. Taking off his mask, he put it on the stool that he used as a bedside table when he spent the night here. His arms around your waist, he pulled your back against his chest. After all, it was late, and you were here, there was no way he was going to keep working instead of spending the night with you. Especially since it was only in each other's arms that you could really warm each other up.

“Good night love.” You sweetly whispered as you snuggled closer to him before closing your eyes.

As a reply, he chastely kissed the back of your neck before closing his eyes in turn. It was more than time to rest, and this was definitely the best way.

Brahms :

It had been a long day, your boyfriend had been a real brat all day, making you struggle to do your daily chores. All he wanted was your attention and deep down you knew it, but you had no other than to scold him as you needed to do your chores. After all, with his behavior, he kind of deserved it that day. The punishment you gave him was the worst for him: Denying him access to your room that night. Maybe that would help him to think about what he has done.

Surprisingly, even if he complained a lot about it and tried to change your mind, he ended up doing as he was told. Now alone in your own room, sleeping in your large bed, you woke up in the middle of the night after a nightmare. Your past life wasn't full of joy, and it was still giving you nightmares from time to time. Jumping out of your bed, you were shivering, not only from the coldness of the night. Why did you have to face a nightmare that night? The only one who was always able to console you, reassure you, it was him, the man you sent to his room earlier that day.

Screw his behavior that day, you needed him. Still shivering, rubbing your arms, you headed towards his room, wearing nothing but a thin pajama that wasn’t helping much to keep you warm. You knew almost every hidden place and passages in this huge mansion, your boyfriend trusted you enough to show you almost everything here. It was now your home as well, after all.

Stopping right in front of the door of his secret room, you knocked.

“Baby… Are you still awake?”

Even if your voice was small, the door instantly flew open as soon as you called him by his favorite pet name. Brahms sleep always had been light, and he obviously heard you as soon as you got off of bed. A bit startled, you slightly jumped, looking up at his masked face.

“What’s wrong?” He asked in his child voice, worry about you.

His head tilting as you threw yourself in his arms, he was quick to catch up. Strong arms wrapping around you, he held you tightly as he pulled you inside. Closing the door behind the both of you, he led you towards the bed. Usually when he did that, it was to lust one over the other, but this time, it wasn’t. This time, he was going to be there for you, just like you are always for him.

“I had a nightmare…” You softly mumbled against his hairy chest.

“I’m here, you’re not alone, my love.” This time, he spoke with his own voice as he made you lay on top of him.

You didn't want to talk about it, and he respected that. He wasn't going to force you to talk. Instead of talking, you simply closed your eyes, cradled by the one you love. It was in his strong arms that you felt the safest, and it didn't take you long to fall back asleep. Brahms held you the whole night, staying awake just to keep an eye on you. Don’t expect him to let you do any of your chores either the next day, but unlike today, it would be because he wants you to have some well-deserved rest.

[rahuratna]

A little gift for the lovely @cmdrfupa . Happy birthday, friend!

Synopsis: A chance meeting with a stranger by a riverside opens a brief window into another world.

[Slight Reader x Toji]

On a cobweb afternoon

In a room full of emptiness

By a freeway I confess

I was lost in the pages

Of a book full of death

~ Like a Stone (lyrics) - Audioslave

The streetlamps flicker frequently in this part of the city.

It's part of the appeal, you suppose.

You can appreciate spaces like these, hollowed out of concrete and compacted earth by some higher being's blunt-edged knife, pockets of quiet amidst the chaos.

The pavements are older, a fine tracery of cracks spreading beneath your steady stride. They are as familiar to you as the softly glowing jewels of steam, scent and spice that beckon along the sides of the riverwalk.

This was why you always chose this route after a long day at work. Each tiny food stall sent out its siren's call, every bowl of udon or heaped plate of curry set out like offerings to the downtrodden deities of the late shift, yourself included. 

Today, you had a particular destination in mind. The weather had taken a turn over the last few days, chilly air creeping under the doors of your apartment, sudden sweeps of icy air waiting in ambush for your hapless ankles.

The only thing to remedy such a situation was the tonkotsu ramen at the stand you came to every fortnight. You were certainly ready to inhale a bowl of the rich, heady broth, to watch the egg yolk dispel within, warm, quivering, like a sunrise over winter treetops.

Hastening you steps, you spied the canvas strips hanging from the awning, the small hand-written signs that advertised specials and topping prices. You didn't need to consult that list. You knew exactly what you'd be ordering.

Tucking your satchel into the small space beneath the counter, you clambered onto a stool, anticipation for the meal to come temporarily drawing your attention away from the booth's only other occupant.

You were vaguely aware of him, of the fact that he was very tall and broad of shoulder, as you received your tea and took a scalding sip. Finally turning your glance to him, you almost performed a double take.

He certainly was tall, but even under the concealing lines of the dark sweater, you didn't think you'd ever seen someone built quite like him before.

There was a certain predatory grace to his power, corded lines of sinew tracing up his neck, a heaviness to his large hands, a capability for feats of strength you couldn't possibly fathom.

His features were what most would consider exceptionally good looking, but there was something there, in the hooded shadow of his eyes, in the semi-amused curve of his scarred lips, in the flare of his nostrils and the effortless drape of his dark, dark hair that was both fascinating and repellent. Like the gaze of a cobra, cold, relentless, magnetic, he was setting off every warning signal in your mind.

His glance drifted lazily across to you and he offered a measured look. You froze, unable to explain your visceral reaction to this man.

What was going on?

You'd sat at this stall dozens of times. Why was every instinct screaming at you to remove yourself from this space?

Your thoughts were interrupted by his voice, smooth, slightly husky, the cool depths of a murky city river.

"More tea. And a bowl of the tonkotsu."

Your mind was assaulted by the fact that you'd be eating alongside him, here at this stall. You shook your head slightly, as if to clear away cobwebs of doubt.

This was ridiculous. You'd never even met this man before and you'd be damned before such random feelings drove you away from the comfort of your routine. You knew that if you walked away now, you'd look back and regret it, that you'd probably curse your silly instincts for a warning that, in all probability, meant nothing.

Settling your elbows firmly on the countertop before you, you did the one thing that you knew, on some level, you really, really shouldn't.

You started a conversation.

"This place serves the best broth."

His eyes slid sideways towards you again, and you tried to convince yourself that the spike of heady excitement you felt in your abdomen wasn't accompanied by a healthy dose of regret.

He shrugged, noncommittal.

"I've had better."

"Where?"

He didn't answer your question, but now he was watching you more intently. Bringing the small cup to his lips, he took a sip, as if simultaneously drinking in everything that he observed about you. He raised his chin, playfully interrogative.

"Do you come to this stall often?"

"Yes."

"I've never seen you before."

"Ah, I don't usually come at this time. I got off work a little earlier today."

He eyed your steaming bowl as it arrived, and you tucked in a little self-consciously, aware that he was watching you eat.

Trying to dispel the awkwardness you felt (since you were the one who'd initiated this conversation) you asked a question.

"What do you do for work?"

His smile was a sudden flare of unholy glee, and he brushed back his hair with a casual gesture.

"Oh, I'm a jack of all trades, you could say. People make requests, and I see what I can do."

You paused, noodles suspended halfway to your mouth.

"That works for you? In this economy?"

You weren't expecting him to burst into uproarious laughter at your words. You noticed that the ramen vendor didn't even glance in his direction.

Turning his whole body towards you now, he slung one ankle up on his knee. If you'd thought his shoulders were singularly muscular, you'd now got the rest of him to compare them to. It was ... quite the sight.

You took a hurried sip of your tea.

Maybe he hit up the gym really really regularly. That could possibly explain ...

Your thoughts were interrupted by his fingers tapping lightly on the counter.

"This economy is ... more forgiving than you may think. For those of us who exploit a niche."

You weighed up his words.

"So you're saying ... you provide an essential service?"

"Sure. People always need a good clean up."

"Ah."

You nodded in understanding.

"So you do the jobs nobody else wants to do. That makes sense."

Something darkened in his gaze, but that ire wasn't directed at you. For you, there was only casual amusement. You had, seemingly, provided him with a welcome distraction.

"Oh, yeah. Nobody really wants the work I take on. It comes naturally to me, though. And there are parts of it that I've ... come to find satisfying."

"So, I'm guessing that you're very good at what you do."

"The best."

There was no joy to the manner in which he said this, however. It was a cold statement of fact.

"Hmm. I guess office work does have its perks. I have a schedule to stick to. That's one thing I'm guaranteed of."

He shrugged, reaching across to receive the bowl handed to him.

"I don't know if the regular grind is for me. Not any more."

You waved your chopsticks in his direction.

"It's not for everyone. But it does offer some stability. Sometimes I'm thankful for that."

"Stability?"

He snorted in a manner that was undeniably condescending, but the humour didn't reach his eyes. You noticed that there was not much that did. 

"Stability won me over for a while. A very short time. Not on the table any more, that's for sure."

You wonder if there's a hint of a failed relationship somewhere in there. You wouldn't be surprised. You asked your next question carefully, averting your eyes from his.

"And were you happy? Around the time you were stable?"

"Happy?"

You'd never heard anyone say the word quite like he did; rolled on the tongue as if bitter, unfamiliar, foreign. A taste of the unknown.

"Hmm. I don't think about those times any more. Not much use."

"That's ... efficient."

"I'm nothing if not efficient."

You finished your meal, setting down your chopsticks across the top of the bowl and placing your hands together in thanks. You reached into your pocket for some cash.

You considered paying for his meal, as thanks for the company, but he'd already produced his own money, the notes lying carelessly crumpled beside his bowl. It was almost as if he'd anticipated your gesture.

Nodding politely, you slid off the stool.

"Have a good night."

"You have any kids?"

His question came from seemingly nowhere. You'd kept the conversation as free of personal details as possible.

It was then that you noticed where his eyes had fallen. There was a little badge, one of the numerous cartoon characters your nephew was fond of, pinned to the strap of your bag. It had been a gift you'd received on your last visit to your sister, and you'd worn it in place of pride.

"Oh, this?"

You gestured to the badge and smiled.

"My nephew. This is his second favourite character. He wouldn't have parted with the best one. So ... this is the one I got."

The man eyed the badge with a strange intensity.

"Second favourite, huh?"

His gaze lifted to yours, and there was no trace of the fond softness that such a conversation might elicit.

"Don't come back here tomorrow."

"Pardon?"

"Dont come to this stand. Here."

He handed you a card, produced from the pocket of his dark slacks.

"This is the other ramen place I told you about. The better one. Try that out tomorrow."

You took the card from him hesitantly, before nodding, tucking your scarf tightly into your coat and making your way down to the walkway. Glancing back, you saw that he had turned his attention to his food once more.

You didn't think much more about the encounter, until the next day.

Sitting in a comfortable booth at the restaurant he'd recommended, a fair distance from the river, you'd allowed your thoughts to wander briefly to him.

You'd never even asked his name. Maybe he'd told you about this place because he didn't want to be disturbed again. Either way, you hoped the food was as good as he'd said it was.

Your phone vibrated slightly and you slid your finger across the screen, noticing a message from Shimeda at the office.

Isn't this on the route you take home? Be careful.

Frowning, you accessed the full attachment to the message, a screenshot of an online article describing a series of explosions that had taken place close to the riverwalk you frequented in the evenings.

Upon investigation, copious traces of blood had been found at the scene, but no bodies. Cameras in the area had picked up nothing. All businesses along the riverside had been closed temporarily, until the investigation showed that no further danger to the public was imminent.

Something about the air within the small booth had grown cloying, your phone clutched like a flimsy lifeline in one hand.

He'd told you not to go back there. He'd told you to come here today.

You realised that your ears were ringing slightly, as if you'd somehow been caught up in the explosion that had rocked the tranquility of the walkway so many miles away from your current place of safety.

Was this what he -

You placed your phone on the table, face down.

No. It wouldn't do for your thoughts to wander in this direction. What was done was done. And he'd obviously done it for a reason.

Flashes of your conversation came back to you, of things vaguely alluded to. His talk of being a 'jack of all trades', of finding a 'niche', of 'cleaning up after others' suddenly took on the gravitas that came with your new knowledge.

Why was it then, that you wished you'd asked him more? Maybe what his favourite flavour of ramen actually was? Maybe you'd have asked him more about happiness, and possibly whether he'd had any children himself.

In the quiet of the restaurant, you let out a brittle laugh, too high. You ignored the look that the waitress gave you.

You supposed that now you'd never know the answers to any of those questions. It was better that you didn't, most likely.

A river eventually spilled into the sea, and sometimes, amidst the unpredictable currents and the shift of silt as dark as blood, all secrets were borne away with it.

[dreaming-medium]

Animals Without Direction

Chapter Twelve - Rest

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Masterlist

The night before the battle left you with nothing but a vibrating ball of emotion. A large camp was set up on the Miron side of the Amvista river hidden among the thick and tall trees of the woods. Only a few fires were lit to make certain that Erbus did not see any signs of life.

The moon has been in the sky for about five hours at this point, leaving it a little after midnight. 

Jeongin bid you a good night about two hours ago, leaving you by yourself in front of the campfire. Despite its warmth, you still find yourself shaking, and you’re not sure it's from the chill in the air. 

Tomorrow everything will change. 

Elves have been considered outlaws in Erbus for close to thirty five years, and finally, tomorrow, action will happen.

Thoughts of your mother and father float around your head. If they could see where you were now, you’re not sure how they would react. First and foremost, they would just want you to be safe; that’s all they ever wanted.

You found safety in Miroh.

It wasn’t until recently that you realized that you never felt as though you needed to have eyes on the back of your head while walking through the Keep. There was never that tingling of danger in the back of your mind to watch your back. 

“A soldier up late on the eve of battle?” a smooth voice comes from behind you.

Tearing your exhausted gaze from the fire, you look up at Hyunjin. His sharp eyes are looking at you closely, scanning all over your face.

You hum and look away from him back to the dancing flames. 

“Someone needs to watch the camp.”

“There are soldiers on guard around the entire perimeter. Worry not, mercenary, get some rest. You appear as though you desperately need it.”

Your jaw clenches and your body shrinks in on itself a little. Your shoulders slump forward and chin dips down towards your chest. You’ve avoided mirrors purposefully for at least a week.

“If it makes you feel any safer, you can rest your head in my tent for the night.” Hyunjin adds.

You perk up a bit, a tent means warmth. The last few nights you either spent sitting on a log in front of the fire or curled up on your side in your bedroll, aching for warmth.

Winter was only a month away and this year it felt like it was coming early. Frost clung to the grass well after sunrise.

You pause, looking down at the dirt for a moment. “I would very much appreciate that.”

When you look up at Hyunjin again, he only smirks and jerks his head in another direction. “Come on then. Everyone will be waking up to march in only a few short hours.”

Quickly, you stand up from the log, grab your bedroll, and follow the mage. As soon as you walk away from the campfire, a wet coldness seeps into your bones. It feels like you jumped into a frozen lake before standing up.

Hyunjin leads you over to his small tent in the middle of camp. It’s nothing special but you know the canvas walls will keep you from frosting over with the foliage. 

He ducks inside first and you follow him. His bedroll is already laid out with a small lantern and book next to it.

The wall of warmth that hits you curls around your body like a blanket. An immediate sigh of relief leaves your lips. The heat is such a welcomed contrast compared to your frigid skin, it almost makes your joints ache from the extreme difference.

Hyunjin walks over and slides his bedroll to the side to give you some room. With your two sleeping bags side by side, there is basically no more room inside the tent. 

“Have you been sleeping outside these past few nights?” he asks as he watches you set up your sleeping space.

“More or less.”

“Pardon?”

“I am not really able to sleep much these days.” you admit, not looking over at him. He sat down on top of his bedroll, long legs stretched out in front of him.

“Is there a reason for this?” he prods more.

You think for a moment before shaking your head. “Nay,” it comes out as a whisper. “If I am being plain with you, I cannot recall when I last was able to sleep for more than an hour without my eyes opening.”

The mage only watches you, his head cocked to the side.

You continue, “Perhaps it is the idea of war that is keeping my brain awake. Since Jisung’s return to Miroh and the Jarl’s official declaration of war my mind has not known rest.”

While talking, you open your bedroll and slink inside, letting the warmth envelope you in a fabric embrace. The inside was coated with sheep’s wool.

Back in Erbus you had it commissioned when you had gotten a lucky break and raked in more gold than usual one month. It was large and cozy, its weight on top of your body was comforting and familiar. 

Hyunjin turns a knob on the lantern and the flame inside goes out.

You stare up at the top of the tent. “I do fear that my exhaustion will affect my abilities tomorrow.” The last confession comes out a bit quieter than your previous words. “But no matter how hard I try, I cannot rest. I believe it may be driving me mad.” you let out a gentle laugh with the last bit.

Hyunjin stared at you for a long moment, watching you get settled in your bedroll. He cocked his head from side to side, as if weighing something in his head.

Finally, he lets out a sigh.

“Make room.” he says suddenly, crawling towards you.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Make room for me in your bedroll, mercenary.”

You looked at him as if he had three heads. Your eyebrows pulled together in a shocked manner, your mouth hanging open slightly.

“Did you hit your head again?”

Hyunjin scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Do you want to sleep or not?”

“And how exactly would me letting you in my bedroll make me sleep?”

He lifts an eyebrow and smirks down at you. “What sort of thoughts are you having?”

“What sort of thoughts are you having?” You repeat his question back at him, your voice raising.

“Hush.” He quiets you down and lifts the one corner of your bedroll. “Make room, Y/N.”

You yank the blanket back from him and scoot away from him a small distance, balking. “Explain yourself first!”

He reaches forward and drags you back towards him by the blankets, you clutch them closer to you. His hand grabs your wrist through your bedroll, the grip is tight, but not in a painful way.

“Will you please trust me, Y/N?” he asks. His voice took on a different tone. It’s softer, calmer, as if trying to soothe you.

He looks down at you with such a pleading look to his eyes, he genuinely wants to help you. You just wish you knew what his plan was.

You sit there for a few extra moments, staring at his face closely for any sign that he was pulling a stunt. “You truly are going to help me sleep?”

“Aye, you have my word, Y/N.” He places his fist over his chest.

You sigh, “Fine.” You lift the corner of your bedroll and scoot backwards, leaving him with plenty of room. “But by The Six, if you do anything I will-”

“I will not.” he says sternly.

Hyunjin nimbly crawls inside your bedroll; the bedroll that felt extremely roomy only a few moments ago now feels close, but not suffocating.

Maybe it’s because you’ve never had a second body inside of it.

His body heat immediately fills the fabric. The chill from outside is nowhere to be found inside this enclosed space, it’s like you have your own personal hearth right here in the tent. 

The mage shuffles around, trying to get comfortable, he leans over and grabs his own pillow, stuffing it under his head and turning on his side to face your body. 

How are you supposed to sleep? Your body is now on high alert, you’re aware of every single movement he’s making, every breath he’s taking.

You’re laying on your back, he’s shifting around to your right. 

When he finally settles down, he speaks up. “Come here.”

Your head snaps over to look at the mage, he’s turned on his side and is fully looking at you. Again, your expression pulls into an incredulous stare. Before you can say some nonsense, he preemptively cuts you off.

“Y/N, just come here.”

You roll your eyes and hesitantly turn on your side to face him. Suddenly, he reaches one arm out and wraps it around your body, bringing you impossibly close to him. Both of your faces are centimeters away.

Your eyes widen.

Hyunjin’s hand slowly trails from your waist, up your side, over your shoulder until he finally cups the side of your face.

His fingers are so soft, you half-expected them to be calloused from battle and working primarily with fire. But the skin is so smooth and settles on your face nicely. His thumb swipes under your eye and along your cheekbone, his pinky and ring finger caressing your jawline.

In the darkness, you can see his lips part and his eyelids droop a bit. 

For a few seconds longer, he stares at your face. Both of your eyes lock and your breath hitches. His deep red gaze is hard to break away from. It’s like he’s caught you in a trap. A dazzling, scarlet trap.

Then, you feel it, his hand begins to warm up even more. But it never turns hot, it only stays warm, like he held them over the fire for a minute. A slight tingle pricks at your skin where his fingers rest.

It’s not unpleasant in any way.

Slowly, his eyes close and his brow furrows only slightly in concentration.

“Relax.” Hyunjin whispers, the exhale fans over your own lips.

How are you supposed to relax when your exhales are mingling with one another? When you can practically feel his heartbeat as if it was your own?

You do not close your eyes, you continue to stare at his doll-like face unabashedly. Everything about him is absolutely perfect. There’s not a single blemish to be seen on his face, smooth, soft skin and silky hair. 

He had it down loose for sleeping. The chunk of red is still present. 

After about three minutes, your eyelids begin to droop in a way that you haven’t felt in so long. It feels like there’s tiny weights attached to each of your eyelashes. That always present straining headache begins to dull and fade.

All of your muscles relax and untense, even your jaw slacks slightly.

“Relax,” Hyunjin repeats again, his words a soft whisper. And again you feel both syllables against your own lips.

With each blink, your eyes close more and more.

A calmness washes over you. Your bedroll is suddenly comfier than your bed in the keep. The sleepiness that you’ve craved for so many nights now is finally taking you.

The hand on your face moves slowly and cards through your hair, gently brushing away any strands that fell in your face. His fingers comb through the locks gently, lulling you further and further into dreamland.

“Rest now, Y/N.”

Just as your eyes close completely, Hyunjin leans over and presses his lips to your forehead. Like a shockwave, a flood of peace goes down your body at the contact.

You’re not sure how long he keeps his lips to your skin because by the time you could register the action, sleep finally took you.

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

Warmth. An unbelievably comfortable warmth surrounded your entire body. It wrapped around you like a serpent and kept you in its tight hold.

Voices of soldiers outside stirred you from your first real sleep in two or three weeks. Your eyes no longer felt as though they were straining in their sockets.

Everyone was packing up for the battle. It was time.

“Hyunjin,” you hear Changbin’s voice from outside the tent, “Wake up, we leave in thirty minutes time.”

His footsteps recede from outside the canvas tent.

Hyunjin? That’s right, you were in Hyunjin’s tent.

He used some sort of magic to finally allow you to fall into a restful, dreamless slumber. 

The weight on your waist suddenly tightens and you’re held tighter against something solid. Is that…?

A soft groan comes from behind you and your body tenses up. It absolutely is. 

Hyunjin moves around a bit from behind you, his arm still tightly wound around your midsection, bringing you flush against his long, lithe form. Every part of you was molded against him. From your back to your feet, every body part interlocked with his.

As he’s waking up, his body writhes and his hips move against yours a bit. Much to your chagrin, it sends a shock wave up your spine and into the base of your neck. 

He lets out a long yawn, the heat from his breath blows over the back of your head. Hyunjin’s head dips down slightly and is pressed between the top of your shoulder blades as he stretches out his legs. The arm around you is only getting tighter.

Does he know you’re awake? Does he realize it’s you that he’s holding like this?

With one final stretch, he releases your waist and runs his hand up your side like he did last night. He traces each curve of your body and stops at your shoulder.

“Y/N,” he says in your ear. When had he leaned forward? “You can quit pretending to be asleep.”

You stay quiet for a moment longer before opening your eyes, it’s still dark outside. 

If the army was going to make it to Fort Mire by first light, you all needed to leave soon. 

Hyunjin rolled his body away from yours, peeling himself from the bedroll. When he lifts the blanket, a rush of cold air finds its way inside the warm blankets.

You hiss and curl in, grabbing the blankets closer to yourself. He only laughs at you. 

A silent moment settles in the tent. 

“I had not had rest like that in so long,” you admit quietly, Hyunjin stops shuffling around and watches you as you roll over onto your back to look at him. “Thank you.”

The last interaction you had with the mage had ended poorly; truly, it was at both of your faults. 

Hyunjin watches you a little longer before nodding, a slight smile on his face. It’s genuine and reaches his dark red eyes. 

“Aye,” he says simply, “If you need my assistance again, you know where to find me.”

And with that, he ducks out of his tent to go prepare himself for battle. You watch him leave and then look up at the top of the tent, the ghost of his touch still haunting your skin. 

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

Not a soul was speaking. Every soldier fell in line and marched silently, boots hit grass, armor clinked, horses walked along the dirt.

The legion had crossed over the Amvista by bridge about an hour ago. 

When your boots hit Erban soul, you thought that it would bring about a wave of complicated feelings, but truly you were only met with one: anger. Red, hot, burning anger.

You want to be nervous for this fight, so badly you want your mind to be reeling with every possible outcome, every way for you to fail; but the only thoughts you have are ones of battle induced rage. 

The army suddenly came to a halt at the top of a hill. At the bottom sat Fort Mire. From where you stood, you could not see if Erban soldiers were running around or if your presence was made aware of. Yet.

The sky was lighting up, the sun should be rising any second now.

Changbin sat on his horse in front of everyone. For a moment you could only see the back of his head as he watched Fort Mire for a long moment. He turned his horse around and stared out among the sea of his soldiers; men and women all ready and willing to give their lives at his command.

He squeezes his thighs and his horse slowly walks parallel with the front line. The commander continues to look out among all the faces.

When his eyes find yours, he hesitates for a split second. You nod your head as imperceptibly as you could, he does the same and looks away.

“Today marks Day One of the war that history will remember.” He says strongly over the sea of soldiers. His voice is even and confident. “On this day, you will raise your sword for the Elven lives that were cruelly taken from this world. No more will these sinful devils torture the innocent lives of our brothers and sisters.”

Changbin reaches down and unsheaths his sword and holds it up in the air. “Today we fight for the voices that were stolen! You will fight for each and every soul who was beaten down into the dirt! You fight for them!”

He holds his sword up in the air and every soldier around you issues a mighty battle cry. Some hit their swords against their shields, others stamped their feet in the dirt making the ground vibrate. 

“Today we take Fort Mire!”

Another scream.

“Archers ready!”

At this point, you’re able to spy a lot of movement happening down at the Fort. Soldiers were scrambling to wake up the ones that were sleeping. 

The front line of archers in front of Changbin take out their bows and knock their first arrows, each movement is almost synchronized.

Changbin turns his horse to face the Fort, his sword still held aloft in the air.

“Erbus will know the wrath of Miroh! On my mark!”

You pull your sword from your hip with other soldiers. Everyone starts shifting on their feet in anticipation. 

Loud yelling is echoing up from the Fort.

“Aim!” Changbin yells and each archer pulls their arrows back, bows aimed up at the sky.

You suck in a large breath, your body humming.

“Fire!”

[mermaidsirennikita]

I'm probably not going to do complex things (by complex I mean mid Canva graphics) here like I do on Instagram for Lisa Kleypas Appreciation Week (my bookstagram) so here's a ranking of Kleypas books (the ones I've read—I'm holding out on some of the others since she hasn't released a new book in good while, sadly) you never asked for:

Dreaming of You

Seduce Me at Sunrise

Again the Magic**

Devil in Winter

Married by Morning

It Happened One Autumn

Then Came You**

Marrying Winterborne

Secrets of a Summer Night**

Mine Till Midnight**

Tempt Me at Twilight

Cold-Hearted Rake

Midnight Angel

Scandal in Spring

Lady Sophia's Lover*

Worth Any Price*

Suddenly You*

Devil in Spring

Love in the Afternoon

Chasing Cassandra*

Someone to Watch Over Me

Devil's Daughter*

Stranger in My Arms

Hello Stranger

--* due for a reread, may like it more upon that occasion

--** due for a reread simply because

--*** yes I do find Devil's Daughter that mid... I ranked it below the one with amnesia simply because it has amnesia AND twins

Also, currently reading Prince of Dreams and I deeply suspect that it will be a solidly ranked book—will update upon finishing, and honestly probably going to re-listen at least one of these once I'm finished with the book I'm listening to now, so will update that too.

[blue-tofu]

Winter Sunrise in the Desert 11/23

Acrylic on canvas panel 3x5

[studiolevez]

https://studiolevez.etsy.com

Mountain Valley Landscape at Sunrise in Boho Style. This fantasy valley scene features hills, mountains , and the sun in pastel colors. It's inspired by the stunning mountain landscape that I see everyday from the balcony of my house in the Sella da Estrela Natural Park in Central Portugal where my 9 hectare farm is located.

Nature paints a beautiful tapestry of wild flowers in the rocky landscape where mountain streams flow with many small waterfalls. The mountain scene changes everyday with the seasons. In winter the mountains are snow capped and morning frost glistens. In autumn a velvety green moss covers the rocks and in the summer everything turns to shades of gold as the incessant heat of the sun dries the grass.

This square gallery wrapped canvas print will always look as tight and flat as the day it was made. Every frame is built with a solid face to support the canvas and prevent deforming. Available in multiple sizes, comes in walnut and black frame options. .: 100% cotton fabric canvas .: Poplar wood frame with walnut or black finish .: High image quality and detail .: NB! For indoor use only

[joels6string]

More Than My Father's Son

Joel Miller x OFC

Chapter 14 - On the Road

Summary: You wake up and face the fact you can't run from this any longer. A decision needs to be made.

Rating: E

Word Count: 5.9k

Content: NSFW, high levels of violence normal to the TLOU world, angst, fluff, miscommunication trope (it’s Joel Miller…), slow burn, Joel’s traumatic childhood, getting together, smut, canon divergence after SLC, fix it fic

“Promise me you won’t just leave without a word.”

Chapter 13 || Series Masterlist

The sun shined brighter in the winters, the white blanketed over the ground working like a reflector straight into your window. It had never been this bright before, the typical dull gray hue of sunrise you were used to now hitting your sleep-sensitized eyes blindingly. 

“What fucking time is it?” you grumbled to yourself, sitting up slowly to allow the ache in your bones to throb, throwing the blanket off yourself roughly as you swung your legs over the side of the couch. 

Wrapped in the discarded wool was a familiar lump of brown canvas; Joel. Your fingers curled into the fabric as you searched for him in the room and found no one, panic rising, your heart beating rapidly. Was he gone? The last thing you remembered was him leaving to clean up last night, sleep finally taking you as the comfort of his smell ingrained in the threads of that coat had lulled you off to sleep. You hadn’t needed to pretend or try to remember it, it was surrounding you, keeping you safe even in his brief absence. 

Clutching it to your chest, you ran from the room, following the quiet murmur of voices to the living room where the sight of his broad shoulders and thick gray hair had you sighing in relief loud enough to catch his attention. 

“Mornin’ sleepy head,” he announced with a crooked smile, his eyebrows furrowing at the distress on your face.

“Hi,” you choked, long strides bringing him to you within seconds, his hands softly gripping your upper arms as he studied you, “I’m okay. What are you doing?”

“Packin’. Go get some food, it’s in the kitchen.”

Your eyes fell to his lips, the desire to have them be the first thing yours touched every morning sending a foreign warmth radiating outward from your stomach. His chest looked so welcoming, the henley he wore so tightly stretched the one button he still had done up looked like it was ready to pop. Your fingers twitched as your eyes focused on the patch of dark hair descending down the open collar, your cheeks were burning, and it was a toss-up if it was desire or embarrassment fueling the fire. 

“Okay,” you exhaled, breath shaking, causing more concern from him as you quickly spun out of his grip and walked as fast as you could into the solitude of the kitchen. 

His and Tommy’s clothes hung damp around the wood stove Corbin had installed to cook with, the crackling of the flames like fireworks as panic began to set in. 

“Shit…” you muttered, eyes darting around, “Fuck…”

There was that nagging voice, the hammering in your chest, the drop of your stomach.

“Not this time. Not this time. No.” You recited it like a mantra under your breath. “It’s fine. It’s fine.”

“Millie?” Not the voice you were expecting. 

Tommy walked cautiously into the room, leaning his back against the counter you’d braced yourself on.

“Thank you,” he said, your eyes snapping closed as you readied to try and converse with him about something that wasn’t the storm raging in your blood, “They’re comin’ back with us.”

“I didn’t do anything,” you blurted out, “They never said a word to me when I asked.”

“Huh. Well, either way we’re packing whatever valuables they have and heading out this afternoon. Can you check what food can be carried? We packed the fresh meat, hoping keepin’ it packed with snow will keep it cold enough to travel.”

“Sure. Yeah.”

“You alright? You seem…nervous.”

“What am I going back to, Tommy?”

It has been a question lingering like a whisper behind the chaos. 

“Well, we left within a few hours of the group gettin’ back so I assume Ellie is a little on edge. And Joel well…Joel did a little damage to Paulie’s face. But, I don’t think it’s anything that can’t be forgiven given the circumstances—”

“Where is Ellie now?”

“Maria is keepin’ an eye on her. I know she’s cooking for her. And she’s got her friends and I made Maria promise no farming.”

That made you laugh. Ellie did always hate farming rotation. It was certainly a reprieve for her to be free of it. 

“And Paulie,” Tommy continued, “Well, I think he was expectin’ a little anger. Ain’t like you all have a good history. He’ll live, and hell, maybe we can get Joel to apologize.”

“When hell freezes over maybe,” you replied with another breathy chuckle, Tommy's blue-green eyes soft as they wrinkled in the corners with a smile. 

“Yeah, suppose you’re right. Look I wanted to talk to you, about somethin’ else.”

You hoped your silence was a response enough for him to continue, those nerves bubbling once again in your stomach. 

“Joel he uh, he’s been through a lot. I don’t know how much you know about…his life before…but…he can’t take someone else walkin’ out on him,” you could hear the anxiety in his voice, the hesitation to divulge too much of a story that wasn’t his to tell, “I need you to promise you’re gonna do right by him. And I’m not sayin’ I think you’ll do anything but, I just…I need to know he’s gonna be okay.”

“I don’t know how to do this,” you confessed, “So I don’t know if I can promise anything.”

“Promise me you won’t just leave without a word.”

Well that was sort of your signature style. And you were well aware Tommy knew that, he must have figured it out with how many times you’d tried to escape or walked away at the first sign of conflict that didn’t involve a weapon in one or both hands. It had been the exact thing you’d been contemplating before he'd walked in. It was like a reflex at this point, snapping whatever thread of attachment you formed instead of weaving it stronger.

“You’re important to him,” he continued, “So please, just bear that in mind.”

“Okay,” you finally acknowledged, not answering the younger Miller’s request but at least confirming you understood his sentiment.  

“Tommy, what the hell are you doin’?” Joel snapped as he came searching for you after too long a delay, “Let her eat for Christ’s sake.”

“Please,” Tommy repeated one more time to you, and you nodded, hearing the clap of Tommy’s palm on Joel’s shoulder as he returned to the living room.

“What’s he on about?”

“What?” How much did you divulge? This didn’t feel like the time or place to tell Joel you’d just gotten the talk from his brother, especially since it immediately followed your own contemplation on whether or not this was something you could even handle.

“I told him we’d make it to the path by dark. He ain’t listenin’. Keeps askin’ everyone if those clouds look like snow and the latest we can leave… Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?”

Two thick forearms caged you in against the counter, your chest turning to brush against his as that radiating warmth returned. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, the deep scar indenting his nose, the white competing with black in his beard, the sunspots, and tiny nick scars that practically glowed against his sun-weathered skin. 

This time you couldn’t resist. Your heels left the floor as you stood on the tips of your toes, pressing your lips to his hard, taking a chance despite the fear of rejection that told you it would only last a second before it all came crashing down. 

But it didn’t. He pressed in closer, one hand twisting into your hair as you tugged his bottom lip between yours, fisting his shirt by the collar and silencing the demons that were telling you this couldn’t happen. It was happening. And here you felt safer than you had alone in this kitchen moments before. His hands, his heat, the familiar smell, how every kiss was focused and reverent, you could feel the gratitude in the every brush and pull, and when he lifted you to sit on the counter to be at his level, you wrapped your arms around his neck and granted his tongue’s request at the seam of your lips.

He swallowed your pathetic little mewls, his body pressing between your thighs enough to reignite a long abandoned flame. Your fingers craved to feel him, dragging up over his shoulders and onto his neck in their quest. The fringe of his soft gray hair and searing hot skin satiated the growing desire licking against your resolve, his beard scraping against your chin, the risk of being heard by the people in the room just next door something you didn’t care enough to consider. 

When his hands slipped just beneath the hem of your shirt and landed on the untouched skin of your waist you gasped, fingers tightening in his locks and tugging enough to have him groaning quietly. It was still clumsy and lacking finesse, teeth still clacking and marks missed, but as you slowed down he read the cue, and when his fingers pressed harder into your skin and struck another chord, he met your desperate fervor with need of his own. 

Air was in short supply but for a moment you wondered if you needed it at all. This was a moment of reprieve, another pocket of stolen time reminiscent of the overlook, the only thing that mattered was this and him and whatever you were finally allowing yourself to feel after years of solitude and resentment. 

“Get out,” Joel barked as footsteps you assumed belonged to Tommy began to draw closer, your fingers now scratching soothingly over his still-twinging scalp.

“You grew your hair,” you panted as he pecked at your mouth again.

“You said you liked it longer.”

“You grew your hair for me?”

“I guess so.”

Buzzing, frayed nerves had been replaced by warm, flowing currents, his palms drifting to the plush of your denim-clad thighs as you lightly traced the lines on his face with your now-free hand, ending with a gentle peck to the scar across his nose. His eyes were closed as he took in the sensation, his mouth turning into a frown you knew was born more from the lack of affection he’d been shown and the control he was trying to keep on himself. It made you wonder if it would break the next time you were alone, which wouldn’t come for weeks. 

“Joel…” you whispered, pressing your forehead to his as you cradled his jaw, your throat closing in as you attempted to muster the courage to say the words, “Thank you.” 

He pulled away to stare at you questioningly, and you answered with sad eyes of your own, a heavy sigh preceding his response “Millie, I need to know what the hell you want. I ain’t guessin’.”

It was so blunt, designed to not allow you to skirt the question. He’d been planning this in your time away, though your continued affections toward him probably surprised him as much as it had you. But it could easily be read as relief to finally see a familiar face, not longevity. 

“I want to try,” you replied, straightening your shoulders and nodding. There was no going back now.

“Alright then. Me too.”

Tipping your chin up with his thumb and pointer, he kissed you so lightly it was a tease, your body craving for more as he pulled his lips just out of reach while his fingers kept you in place. 

“Okay,” you sighed, allowing the feeling of relief to consume you.

“Okay.”

And with that he walked off, shooting you a crooked smile over his shoulder as he passed through the doorway, your eyes turning to thin slits as your cheeks lifted in a smile that had your cheeks twinging from disuse. 

“You done making out like a teenager and ready to fuckin’ help?” you heard Tommy chastise as you threw the oatmeal that was still warm on the hearth into a bowl, “You’re the one insistin’ we leave today and you ain’t helpin’!”

“Shut the hell up, baby brother,” was Joel’s response, and you could practically hear his grin.

By noon, the horses were packed with as much as they could carry, only three to hold the goods and all five people heading back to Jackson. Corbin and Lee shared theirs while Bill would have to lug both you and Joel around, Tommy’s carrying the bulk of Corbin and Lee’s personal items. It would be a long two weeks on the road and you dreaded every second of it—this was the first time you could say you just wanted to be home. 

“Joel,” Corbin called from a few yards away, “Can you help me with something?”

You took over the task of giving Bill’s saddle one last fit check, your eyes following him as he walked up the path and took what looked like a gas can from Corbin’s hands. It all still felt like a dream. Seeing him again had been a pipe dream from the moment you’d woken up in Corbin’s basement, your chest in agony and your hands strapped to the bedposts. There’d been no way to check if you were infected, and he’d taken a chance on bringing you back, something you’d be forever indebted to him for. But now Jackson was two weeks away, your chances of making it back almost guaranteed thanks to the two brothers flanking the man who’d risked his life to save you, a swell of gratitude hitting you like a tsunami. 

“I told you, didn’t I?” Lee sang out from behind you, a breathy laugh blowing out through your nose, “It’s a rare thing to find. But it’s not hard to see.”

“Okay,” you brushed off, “Well, we’ll see. What’re they doing?”

“Burning the house.”

“What?!”

“Hunters and worse have tried to take it from us for years. I’d rather see it in ashes than used as some kind of base.”

Joel’s uneasy gaze found yours across the farm, questioning you, almost asking for permission. The urge to scream no was building in your throat, whatever small semblance of serenity you’d stolen ripped away as reality finally came pouring down, its riptides ready to whisk you away back out into the lonesome sea. 

“It’s okay,” Lee sounded again, “We have a new home now.”

“Fuck…” you muttered your breath as you nodded to Joel, his own chin tipping slightly in acknowledgement.

With the house that stood through winters, summers, apocalypses, and countless attacks swallowed by flames behind you, you nestled into Joel on the back of Bill as you began the trek to Jackson. You could hear the crackling and shattering of beams that had withstood the worst moments of a family’s life, your arms wrapped tightly around Joel’s middle as you tried to drown the sounds out of at least one ear in the valley between his shoulders. The scent of gunpowder had been replaced with wood oil in the months since settling, his jacket thick with the air of familiarity, his fingers threading through yours on his stomach as his other hand gripped the reins. 

It continued like this for miles, hazy comfort and warmth despite the frigid temperatures battering against the protective bubble surrounding you. Your fingers stayed locked with Joel’s until they were practically numb from the pressure he was gripping you with, the fear that you were gone that had held him captive still whispering in his ear. 

You tried to remember when it all fell into place, whatever this was. What was the catalyst? The fairytale moment where the stars aligned and the clouds drifted away—that second you looked at him and realized he was the one. 

None of that had ever happened. 

It had come on gradually, there was no beginning, middle, or end. It just existed. Even from the earliest days your heart had searched for him. It began as your fingers finding the small hole in the collar of his t-shirt as he carried you bleeding and limp to safety when leaving you would have been easier. It continued in the rough way his voice sounded in the morning and when he was tired from a long day, or the songs you’d caught him humming when he thought no one was around. When it all should have changed and come tumbling down, the burden of your safety off his shoulders, he’d remained. Fetching groceries, tending wounds, helping you acclimate to a world strange to both of you, forcing him to adjust faster than he needed to to continue being whatever it was he knew you needed him to be. And he’d done it all without expectation.

In this, there was no need for showmanship, it was never booming fireworks or grand storybook gestures. It was walking into your home after a long day, an easy comfort, the smell of wood oil and sawdust, the plucking of guitar strings melding with the crickets’ song. It was him and it was you and it was simple. 

Loving him had always been easy, even when you’d tried your hardest to not. Leaving him had been the hard part. Whether it had been walking away or ignoring the fists slamming against the fortress you’d built around your heart, every second away from him had felt lacking. And you had no questions about whether or not he felt the same. It wasn’t a worry, it was unspoken and known. You felt it in the way his thumb hadn’t stopped moving up and down on the top of your hand since the journey began, saw it in the way he snuck a glance at you behind him every few minutes, his shoulders relaxing with every assurance you were there and you were well. Being loved by him could be easy, too. 

“Joel…” you mumbled into his coat as the sun began to drift below the trees, “Joel…”

“Hmm?” he hummed, squeezing your fingers softly as he turned an ear back.

“Are we stopping?”

“Not here. Little further up.”

The neighborhood surrounding you was one you were familiar with. The rushing of the river, that old white house, the snow stretching for miles…this was where you thought your life had ended. Bill trotted past the very spot you’d slipped off a rock into the rushing waters, a particularly brutal coughing fit had been enough to send your fever-weakened body toppling over, lightheaded and close to fainting. You’d tried to claw your way up onto the rocks that sped by you as the current swept you away, but the water had been too cold, your joints effectively frozen, lungs useless, and you’d realized you could spend your last few minutes panicking or simply accepting your fate. You’d chosen the latter. 

You’d thought of Ellie, beaming ear-to-ear as she hit a particularly difficult shot at the target with her arrow, the raucous reaction to learning Darth Vader was Luke’s father that had her jumping on Joel’s couch much to his dismay, and as your head smacked against the root of tree protruding on the bank, you’d just begun to hope you’d made a difference for her in the short time you knew her. Then it had all gone black until you'd woken up in what must have been your ninth life.

Three hours later, Joel’s hand guided you off your horse in a garage, the only one in the area that still had a roof. The house was like every other you’d set foot into—destroyed, looted, the ghosts of its owner’s still lingering in shattered picture frames and trinkets with no value in whatever semblance of a society still remained. Tommy instructed everyone to search for anything useful, bullets, clothes, medical supplies, the usual, and you opted to check the upstairs with Joel no more than five paces behind you. It was the same as always, a few sweaters, jeans, some shirts for Tommy and Joel, old rags and even half a bottle of rubbing alcohol, the empty boxes of bullet shells in the master bedroom frustrating Joel who grumbled something about not having enough to make it home. 

“I’m starving,” you finally sighed as you closed the closet door, turning to find Joel staring out the window at the plume of smoke stretching into the winter clouds.

“I’m sure Tommy’s got somethin’ goin’,” he answered, eyes still locked ahead of them, his voice distant and distracted.

Food was in abundance for the trip at least, Corbin and Lee’s chicken and canned goods all being stashed in Tommy’s saddle bags. He’d estimated it was more than enough to get everyone home if it was used wisely. And using things wisely was one of Tommy’s strongest suits. This would be a rare moment alone with Joel, the group already establishing that sleeping in one location on the ground floor would always be safest, regardless of how many beds the house held. You knew he was grappling with his hand in burning everything those people had held dear. He'd forced them to choose between their home and traveling for weeks with them to a world unknown, wondering if it would be worth it in the end and knowing if it wasn’t, they had nothing. He’d had a home once, one he left behind. You’d overheard him and Tommy talking about it not long after your arrival, about Tommy’s visit back down to Texas some years back, those four walls still standing as if it was waiting for them to return. All but one. 

“Let’s go see,” you instructed, his nod of agreement finally pulling his attention.

Dinner was cooking on a small hot plate, Lee fretting over Tommy’s shoulder as he laughed affectionately at her concerns of overcooking. Joel stopped halfway down the staircase, your brow furrowing as you turned back at the absence of the creaking wood when you’d hit the floor. 

“Tommy,” he called out, “Gimme a hand with these mattresses.” His attention then fell to you. “Go and eat. Don’t worry about leavin’ anything.”

“Joel…” you exhaled, but he’d already turned away, “Tommy, Tommy…” you grabbed the man passing you by the forearm, “He needs to eat.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Tommy assured, patting your hand softly, “Don’t you worry. Make us some bowls.”

As promised, Tommy did ensure Joel ate the prepared stew after they’d lugged two mattresses down to the living room. With those and the couch, everyone would have a softer place to sleep than the floor, enough blankets being found that a fire wouldn’t be worth the risk. Tommy and Joel did one last perimeter sweep before settling in for the night, Joel welcoming you onto his chest as good nights were said and flashlights flicked off. 

Both of his arms swaddled you, his palm gently cradling your head where it lay tucked into the crook of his neck. In the company of so many others, the words of relief you both wanted to speak sat idle on your tongues. You wanted to tell him you’d remembered how it felt to be held by him while you slept, that memory the only thing that could get you to sleep most nights. His heat, his smell, the feeling of being safe and content, nothing had ever compared. The way his heart thudded against your cheek transported you back to that night—the night it all changed—but there was no longer the dread of regret that lingered over the moments of comfort. The second chance had come. 

Sleep came quickly, a drowsy warmth trapped beneath the blankets and trapped between where your bodies met lulling you to restless images too vivid to differentiate from reality and dreams. 

Crack!

Joel shot up at the sound of gunfire crackling through the frigid morning air. His eyes fell first to Tommy across from him on the couch, his brother also alert and tossing his blankets off in a scramble to get out the front door. You were nowhere to be found. 

Crack!

The sound echoed through the abandoned neighborhood as they ran out into cold, two bodies lying off in the distance on the snow-covered ground. They took off in a run, pistol and revolver drawn, crimson pooling on the crystal white beneath two very dead men, bullets sunk right through the sides of their heads. 

“Morning boys.” The greeting had Tommy chuckling and Joel sighing. “It’s about time you woke up.”

You popped up on a rooftop to their right, Corbin’s rifle in your hand, snow covering the front of your jacket from laying flat on the slanted surface. Joel took off immediately as you moved to slide down, reaching the back of the house where you’d used an old charcoal grill and the dilapidated roof to a covered porch to get yourself up, his face tensing at the fact despite everything you were still just as reckless. 

“What the hell are you doin’?” he asked, grabbing your lower half hanging off the beams of the porch and placing you gently back down onto the ground. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” you answered, dusting your clothes off, “Came outside to see where the sun was and heard them down the road.”

“Tell me you knew they were a threat,” Tommy called out from the side of the house, Joel meeting your eyes with a much more sympathetic look than Tommy’s inquiring gaze. 

“They were looking for the people who burned ‘that crazy old kook’s house down’,” you retorted, “Figured that was good enough. You could still see the smoke from here this morning, maybe not the best idea.”

“Yeah, well, hindsight’s always 20/20,” Tommy acknowledged, “We’ll be outta here soon. Let’s go pack up.”

As Tommy took back off down the road, you stopped at the two victims in the street, searching them for anything useful. A pistol, a rifle, and a fair number of bullets later, you found the real prize: a freshly rolled cigar. You held it up proudly for Joel, his lips forming an O as he exhaled loudly in excitement, his nose pressing to the paper and inhaling deeply.

“Yeah,” he chortled, “Yeah, that’ll do. Keep that away from Tommy.”

Days turned into a week, the time spent quietly with Joel on the back of Bill a pocket of bliss you knew you’d never have again. Occasionally, you veered off from the group, and he told you about the task him and Tommy had begun of renovating Jackson, how much Ellie had improved on the guitar in a few short months, and that he’d managed to pilfer and save enough seeds to have a small garden started for you in a makeshift greenhouse in his downstairs bathroom. You crossed so few adversaries thanks to Joel’s expert clean up work on the way down, it gave you the time to just be. 

“That look like a little town square to you?” he asked one afternoon with an estimated six days to go.

“Probably,” you confirmed, Joel’s whistle to get Tommy and Corbin’s attention shrill in your ear.

“This way!”

The group wandered through the streets of what was once a bustling town center. The remnants of a farmer’s market lay destroyed, the tents and stands still barely displaying shop names and prices with sun-worn paint and ink, scattered totes and wooden boxes that once held homegrown produce discarded throughout the street. It must have hit differently out here, you envisioned the panic of the shoppers as they came in contact with their first infected on what was probably a cool autumn morning. They’d been out with their families, enjoying the last of the summer’s harvests, shopping for pumpkins to carve, fall decorations…then everything had been ripped away. 

“Right here,” Joel announced as you stopped in front of an old brick building, “We’ll just be a second. You three keep watch, we’ll go in.”

“What are we doing here?” you asked as Joel helped you off the horse, grabbing a weapon for each of you and heading off up the walkway without a response. 

It was a public library. Even more questions floated into your head as you entered what would have once been considered a sanctuary. It was almost frozen in time, books still neatly placed on the shelves, the only indicator anything had been awry the shattered windows, spindly sticks that no doubt sprouted green ivy throughout the space in warmer months, and a layer of dust proving you were the first to set foot in this space in years. Joel walked immediately to the directory, clearly after something specific, muttering to himself about archives and videos, and you grabbed the first book left strewn on the counter, flipping it open to marvel at the still partially stiff pages. Had someone been checking it out? Was this their choice of the week read that they’d enjoy in front of a crackling fire as the sun began to set? Or was it one someone had already learned from? Taken new life from?

“This way,” Joel interjected, threading his fingers with yours and taking off towards the back.

He entered an old storeroom, labeled boxes lining the walls, a table set in the middle of the space, and he got to work immediately rummaging through. 

“What are you looking for?” you finally asked, crossing your arms over your chest impatiently.

“Moon landing,” he answered so bluntly it was hardly an answer at all.

“The moon landing? What for?”

“Ellie.”

“Uh huh…”

“I found a place to maybe take her for her birthday if it’s still standin’ and we can clear it out, an old museum, so I need this.”

Ellie’s fascination with space was no secret. She swore she was going to be the one to restart the space program single-handedly, and you’d never even considered squashing that dream. Nor had he. He was laser-focused, reading date after date with his flashlight, and you knew you should help him but you were so enamored at the sight of him diligently looking for this small thing that could bring a smile to that girl’s face you couldn’t move. 

Then, the color drained from your face, the too-familiar vile clicking echoed, both you and Joel’s attention snapping to the doorway leading into a back hall that was missing its door. He stood up straight slowly, gently unsheathing the machete strapped to his backpack, turning with his left arm out as he backed up until your body hit his. With your pistol already drawn, you batted his protective arm away, moving to stand beside in whatever fight came next. 

“I’m a better shot than you,” you whispered, his nostrils flaring.

“Not at close range,” he retorted, and he was right. “Stay put.”

Before you could snatch his arm and pull him back, he was advancing into the hallway. You cursed silently, turning and going out the way you came to sweep the larger library; if he could go looking for a fight so could you. You walked shelf after shelf, your eyes sweeping and finding nothing, your ears still on high alert to any sounds of distress or unwanted visitors, but it was quiet. Terrifyingly silent.

Chapter 15

[neonvvaves]

𝐢.

you're  emptier  than  a  robbed  graveyard,  a forsaken  mausoleum.  your  cemetery  ribcage  doesn't  even  carry  the  debris  of  broken  stone  angels.  even  if  you  weren't  damned  to  seek  blood,  there's  only  a  dead,  unbeating  thing  in  your  chest.  rather  than  the  company  of  people,  you  seek  the  company  of  caravaggio's  glowing  beings  emerging  from  the  darkness,  turner's  ships  sailing  towards  the  horizon,  and  michelangelo's  prayers  in  the  chapel  skies.  easier  to  say  you  seek  solitude.  harder  to  swallow  the  truth:  you  are  poison,  you  are  monstrous.  instead  of  everything  you  touch  becoming  gold,  you're  midas  with  his  kerosene  doused  fingers  striking  like  matches.

𝐢𝐢.

and  yet ──   your  hands  ache  to  touch  him.

𝐢𝐢𝐢.

before  you  fall  in  love  with  the  afternoon  venetian  sun  catching  upon  his  hair,  before  you  fall  in  love  with  the  sound  of  his  laughter  carrying  across  the  grand  canal,  before  you  fall  in  love  with  his  shadow  cast  upon  the  pantheon's  marble  floor,  before  you  fall  in  love  with  the  color  of  his  eyes  that  you  can't  find  on  any  canvas,  before  you  fall  in  love  with  how  perfectly  his  hand  feels  against  your  own─  you  fall  in  love  with  his  words.  his  writing.  his  soul.         

𝐢𝐯.

and  what  if  the  sun  tries  telling  icarus,  "no.  don't  come  nearer.  you'll  burn,  you'll  fall."

𝐯.

you  are  still  a  cemetery,  haunting  yourself  with  ghosts  of  the  people  you  lost.  but  now,  you  are  a  cemetery  with  sunrise  bright  daffodils  and  wine  red  carnations  and  too  many  flowers  to  name,  because  he's  the  spring  that  thaws  your  winter,  the  rain  that  saves  your  bones  from  being  sacrificed  into  a  pyre,  the  one  you  reach out for, and whisper,  'beloved'  against  the  veins  in  his  wrist.       

──   𝐢'𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮.     (  elias & alistair  )     /    @lostwcnderlands

[bestfattsong]

Here it is! Alt text/full list of all first round competitions with each song's seeding number are under the cut. Starting later this week, I will be posting four rounds a day starting from the top left hand corner and making my way down.

Branch A

Marielda (1 seed) vs The Breath and Force (16 seed)

Bright Morning, Cool Evening (Fall of Magic) (2 seed) vs The Farmers' Almanac (Grandpa's Farm) (15 seed)

RADIOSTATIC. HIATUS. REDSKY. (3 seed) vs BRIDEWELL. CANDLEFLAME. BARROW. (14 seed)

The Perpetual Oratorio (4 seed) vs Doppelgänger (13 seed)

On Sleep Detachment (5 seed) vs DOWNRIVER. HARROW. GABARDINE. (12 seed)

The Wythered Route (6 seed) vs Eve's Light Parade (11 seed)

Rigour (7 seed) vs The Twilight Mirage (10 seed)

Cut Their Heads Off (8 seed) vs The Mechanic (9 seed)

Branch B

Hadrian and His Son (9 seed) vs The Warmth of Love (8 seed)

Lye (10 seed) vs Polyte's Story (7 seed)

Permanent Peace (11 seed) vs HOURGLASS. SUNRISE. CRYSTALLINE. (6 seed)

To Be Young Near the Shore (12 seed) vs Marrow in the Bone (5 seed)

Nothing is Stationary (13 seed) vs The Doyenne Describes the Canvas (4 seed)

America's Playground (14 seed) vs The Grapplers Down at Promenade Arena (3 seed)

Inside (15 seed) vs Autumn Not Winter (2 seed)

Adagio (16 seed) vs The Sermon of Sister Rust (1 seed)

Branch C

Tell Me (1 seed) vs Hard Luck (16 seed)

Our Flaws in a Vacuum, or The Promise We Made To Each Other (2 seed) vs The Stellar Combustor (15 seed)

Mr. Magnificent & Elegy (3 seed) vs Swing the Hammer (14 seed)

I Have Seen the Stars (4 seed) vs Eat (13 seed)

TANAGER. PERFECT. TOUCHPAPER. (5 seed) vs Sangfielle (12 seed)

Engines on the Track (6 seed) vs The Eighty Six (11 seed)

-.-- --- ..- .-. / .-- --- .-. ... - / -.. .- -.-- ... (7 seed) vs On a White Horse (10 seed)

Form Leads Function (8 seed) vs Spring in Hieron (9 seed)

Branch D

Red Jack (9 seed) vs The Reveries (8 seed)

Pickman Goes Home (10 seed) vs Give Way to Open Sky (7 seed)

Love's First Explosion (11 seed) vs High Sun Day (6 seed)

The Last University (12 seed) vs SOFTPOINT. UMBRAL. TOUCHPAPER. (5 seed)

PRIORITY. FLASHOVER. PRIORITY. (13 seed) vs The Cost of Greed (4 seed)

Ace! (14 seed) vs Falling Asleep / Waking Up (3 seed)

Something (15 seed) vs The Killing of the Kind-God Samothes by the Traitor Prince Maelgwyn, or The Marielda Suite (2 seed)

Extracurricular: Out of Time (16 seed) vs The Long Way Around

[yellowbeaniegirl]

Sunrise in Tower

Oil paint on canvas paper

Measures 10 x 15 cm - not framed

This is a shot I took from my bedroom window just before 7am one morning as I got for work sometime during the winter.

I remember seeing a pink hue shine through the crack of my blinds and was amazed when I saw the sky. It was so warm despite the frost in the fields under it.