#because of the curtains it creates this little strip of sun that will spend the next hour crossing in front of my screen

[sirensofthefiveseas]

-

[phantom-curve]

“Apricity” for Juke in whatever universe you would like to put them?

I loved this prompt, thank you so much for sending it! set in the did I shatter you? universe, between the end of that fic and the sequel that follows, here's a very quiet and fluffy morning with Juke ft. a small scene that foreshadows the sequel.

apricity - the warmth of the sun in the winter (Rated T for some slightly suggestive moments towards the end)

also available on ao3!

Julie in the early morning was a sight Luke would never grow tired of. Relaxed and softened by sleep, curled into the cocoon of his arms or draped across his chest, hair wild and untamed around her face, Luke could watch her for hours and still it would never be enough time to truly appreciate all of the things that he loved about her. If their year apart had taught him anything, it was that Luke had never valued those little moments with her enough before.

He had been so caught up in his anger and hatred towards Bobby, so settled and comfortable in his relationship with Julie, that he had missed all of the things that actually made that relationship so special. He hadn’t thought twice about the nights he spent sleeping away from her, the mornings he woke up alone instead of at her side. When he would lash out at her, he never saw beyond the single moment of pain. Never saw the way he was cutting her deeper and deeper, so used to his own wounds that he thought she would be, too. He had been selfish and wrong, and he had excused it all by telling himself that they had time. They had forever together, what was a few bad years in the grand scheme of things? He had thought that spending a lifetime with her would mean he could catch up on those moments later. After the Bobby thing wasn’t so painful, after their band made it big enough, after he had reached a point where his skin didn’t itch with the need to fight everything standing in his path to greatness. He had wasted so much time thinking he had an eternity to gain it back, and it wasn’t until she had left that he realized time lost could never be regained again.

Luke had learned his lesson. He wasn’t wasting any more time when it came to Julie. The second she had been willing to give him a second chance, he had gone all in on righting his previous wrongs. It had taken time and hard work and weekly meetings with a therapist that he still talked to on occasion, but he had finally put the past to rest. It was liberating in a way he hadn’t expected, like a weight that had been crushing him for so long he had forgotten it was there was suddenly lifted, allowing him the space to breathe again. Allowing him the space to love again.

Julie had forgiven him, had added The Phantoms back to her name right where they belonged, and slowly, as she watched him grow and change for the better, she had let him back into her heart as well. It was a homecoming he hadn’t ever thought he’d be given, made all the better because this time his home was filled with sunshine and open spaces instead of dark rooms crowded by memories that only aimed to hurt. This time, he knew exactly what he had to lose, knew exactly how much power he had to destroy this fragile new beginning, and he was determined not to screw it up again. He was a new man, forged from the fires of his past to become stronger and better and deserving of the life he had worked so hard to achieve. He wasn’t going to miss out on any more little moments with Julie.

Which was what had led him to adjusting his internal clock to make sure he always woke up before her and had at least a few uninterrupted moments to watch her sleep and remember just how lucky he was that he got to have her in his life again.

This morning was no different than the others. The sun had risen an hour or so ago, pale golden light spilling in through the cracks in their curtains. Julie was curled into his side, legs tangled together, head resting on his chest, breath sending warm whispers of air across his skin in a rhythmic pattern that his heart had slowed to match. Luke had curled one arm around her back so he could hold her close, fingers tracing patterns along the thin strip of exposed skin between her tank top and pj shorts, both articles of clothing that had once belonged to him only to be stolen and repurposed by Julie. He didn’t mind. She looked better in his clothes than he did anyway.

He heard their bedroom furnace click to life in the corner. New York in the winter was much colder than LA, but Luke had grown to love the city during its chillier months over the years. There was a kind of magic that existed there that LA just couldn’t touch with its constant sunshine and balmy temperatures. Winter in LA was a pale imitation of what winter should truly be.

True winter was being bundled up in layers of wool clothing, wandering the city with snow falling overhead and gloved hands clasped together, sharing pockets of warmth with each other on the subway and in coffee shops that looked more like bookstores or bars. True winter was their cozy Cornelia Street brownstone with a fireplace that they actually lit fires in, a basket of quilts passed down from Julie’s abuela tucked in the corner, and their favorite mugs stashed right next to the tea and hot chocolate mix, so that when they came home frozen to the bone, they didn’t have to think twice about how they would warm themselves back up. True winter was New York City and all of the memories, good and bad, that they had created there with each other.

Luke inhaled deeply, the air in their room warm and comfortable despite what he was sure were frigid temperatures outside. His lungs filled with the smell of vanilla and peaches and Julie, the most soothing scent he could imagine. She sighed against him as her head rose and fell along with his chest, her fingers stretching across his body until they came to rest above his heart. He felt the muscle skip and stutter underneath her touch. All these years later, and he still reacted to her just like a lovesick teenager. Julie slept on, undisturbed by the way his heart was racing. Luke couldn’t stop the fond smile that stole across his lips as placed one of his hands over hers.

He thought about the small box he had in the drawer of his nightstand, tucked underneath an old journal that was long past overflowing with songs and snippets of things he wanted to say when he finally presented the ring in that box to Julie. Alex and Reggie had been on his case for weeks now, trying to talk him into popping the question from the very minute Ray had gifted him the heirloom. It wasn’t the right time yet though. The boys didn’t get it, but much like there had been a tugging in his soul when he made that fateful trip to Coney Island over a year ago, Luke knew that there would be a sign when it was time. He had to be patient, had to set things in motion the right way.

Julie murmured something in her sleep and tucked her face deeper into his skin. Luke moved his hand up from her waist to card softly through her curls. He knew exactly how to avoid pulling or getting his fingers caught, just gentle strokes against her scalp until she settled deeper into slumber. A particularly bright beam of winter sun burst through the edge of the curtain, illuminating Julie with a kind of otherworldly glow. Like an angel come down from the heavens above just to bless him with her love. The sight sent a sucker punch to his gut, breath stolen away by the depth of his love for her. He was moving his hand away from hers and reaching for the bedside drawer handle before he even thought twice about it as he dug out the box and his journal without jostling Julie. He turned his head ever so slightly so that he could make sure he didn’t knock anything over as he quietly skimmed through the pages of his notebook until he found the one he was looking for.

Reggie had made the joke in passing, some silly throwaway line when a Bruno Mars song had come on the radio one day. Luke had made a big show of jotting it down in his Julie journal even though he didn’t plan on using it. But now that damn lyric was spinning on repeat in his head as he looked at Julie in his arms, the exact place he wanted to keep her forever and always. Hey, baby, I think I wanna marry you. He didn’t let himself think twice, riding the gut feeling in his soul that told him at the very least he could keep the photo for himself, just for the memories and the reminder of this moment that felt monumental for all its quiet simplicity.

She didn’t twitch when he slowly shifted just a bit to the side, his hand slipping from her hair so he could use it to hold up the piece of paper he had easily pulled from the broken binding of the notebook. Her head fell to rest against her pillow, one hand tucked underneath her ear while the other stayed still against his chest. He placed the open box next to it, tried to hold back the ridiculous grin he could feel stretching across his face as he pulled his phone off of the charging pad on the nightstand. When he opened the camera something about the sight of that ring so close to the spot he hoped it would live for the rest of their lives sent a shot of serotonin through his veins. He couldn’t hold back his smile anymore, but he also couldn’t find it in himself to care about how ridiculous he would probably look. It didn’t matter. He would be the world’s biggest fool for Julie any day of the week.

His phone was silent as he snapped just one selfie. He didn’t want to risk Julie waking up, didn’t want to blow his cover before he was fully ready, before they were fully ready. He didn’t even take the time to double check the picture before he was tucking the paper and the small box back into the corner of his drawer. He locked his phone and set it off to the side, turning slightly so he could soak in the sight of the clear winter sun pooling along the dips and curves of Julie’s sleeping form. She stirred slightly, like she could feel his eyes upon her back, groaning softly and stretching, one eye peeking open to meet his gentle gaze. Her lips curved on the edges, a small attempt at a smile even though she hadn’t fully woken up yet. Luke leaned over to kiss the edge of her temple.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

Julie hummed a wordless response, blinking slowly as she adjusted to the brightness of their room. She reached out with seeking fingers and Luke let her pull him close, brushing his nose along the line of her cheek and jaw until his lips met hers. Julie melted against him, and Luke took advantage of the moment to haul her back on top of him. She broke their kiss with a giggle, propping herself up against his sternum with a fist under her chin.

“Hi.”

Her eyes were still softened and cloudy from leftover sleep, the dreamworld and the real-world meeting in the warm depths of her brown irises. Luke felt full to bursting as he took her in. God, he loved her so much. Had never loved anything or anyone more in his entire life. Her curls cast a slight halo around her, his very own goddess of light and love.

“I love you,” he whispered into the small space between them.

“I love you, too.”

Her words were like a caress as they worked their way into his heart and soul, stitched into the lining of his very being. Julie pushed herself up slightly, until they were eye level, her mouth sweet and soft as she leaned down to press her lips against his once more. Their room illuminated fully as the sun finally made its way over the tallest buildings outside, the light clean and pure in a way only the winter sun could be. Warmth filled every line of his body, a fire lit by Julie that he would never seek to tame or extinguish.

Something in his soul tugged hard, an invisible thread pulling taught between his hidden treasure in the nightstand and his pounding heart where it was pressed against the soft cotton of his shirt covering Julie’s chest. Soon, he promised himself, soon it would be the right time to ask for an eternity together. Forever and always, just like they had vowed to each other from the beginning.

[smugfacebitchell]

For @ballum-fic-wishes​ advent calendar 2019 - Day 20

This is yet another collab with the fantastic @dingletragedy​ <3 —

Winter is the rattling of the kettle, sugary tea and rich hot chocolates, marshmallow galore, sticky fingers held tight. Its heat, the heat of Callum’s mouth when they share kisses on their lunch break, waiting for their coffee orders, their own little bubble created whenever they’re near. It’s the park at night, all cool, damp leaves and made up constellations, lying on their backs to watch shooting stars flash, fingers dancing in the grass. It’s tacky red tinsel, decorations held close to the heart and days spent assembling that damn Christmas tree.

— The light is soft over Callum’s cheeks.l, they’re are still red with sleep, pillow creases adoring his face. But still, he looks like every dream Ben has ever had. That’s the first thing Ben comes to realise when he nudges the bedroom door open, so gentle that it stays blessedly silent from it’s usual creaking, so tentatively that Callum’s eyes don’t flicker open. The clock has just freaked over to eight am, sun rising up between the trees and pouring dappled, milky reflections through the window, splayed along the expanse of Callum’s back.

Ben clears his throat softly and meanders further into the room, their room. “Hey,” he whispers. The door closes behind him without a click. Callum shifts, eyes flicking open, almost translucent where the light hits, like pale, stained glass. There’s something so delicate about the way he blinks, lashes tangled together with sleep, his brows mused, hair sticking in every which way direction.

"Creep," Callum mumbles when he catches Ben watching him, turning over so he's more fully on his side, rubbing his cheek against his pillow. Ben doesn't reply, just keeps staring at him, until Callum props himself up on one elbow and offers him a small smile.

"Mornin’," Callum replies, his hoarse morning voice cracking over the word, and God, Ben really wishes they could spend the whole day in bed.

Callum’s eyelashes look the softest shade of brown, sweeping steady and slow as he blinks, lips cherry glaze. Here, Ben sees him in curves and gentle fingertips, a vulnerable haze to his tired eyes, so young-looking and innocent with his hair flat and soft smile on his face that pull at Ben’s heart in all the ways he wants it to be pulled.

“I missed you,” Ben says as he settles himself on the bed beside Callum, reaching a hand out to trace his fingers over Callum’s shoulder, and the flurry of fading freckles there. Light, prism, dispersion. His skin is warm.

Callum leans into his touch on instinct, and Ben can’t help the tiny sigh the escapes his lips; it’s everything. The comfort of touch, the whisper of his breath, the depths of his eyes as Callum glances up at him from under his wet lashes. Sunlight dances on one side of his face, pale strips of it that bring a white glow to his temple and the tip of his cheekbone. “You only look Lex to school, you big softie,” Callum mocks. “But, yeah— I missed you too, I suppose.”

“You know, you should try being a bit nicer to me?”

“Oh yeah?” Callum questions, “and whys that?”

“Just—Christmas ain’t it?” Ben answers, but it comes out as more of a whispered-choke. “It’s nice to be nice. I like Christmas, when I’ve got people to share all the magic with. People I love. Nice, ain’t it?”  

“Yeah. Yeah it is.”

“Speaking of,” Ben announces. “We’re gonna have to have a change of plan today, no lazy day for us I’m afraid.”

“Uh—what? Why?” Callum questions, not at all happy at the news.

“Lexi has threatened that if that Christmas tree ain’t up by the time she gets home from school then she’ll be calling social services. And we both know she ain’t the kind of girl to go back on her word.”

“Hm,” Callum says, head lolling onto his shoulder, eyebrow cocked up. “Remind you of someone?”

“Nope, no one at all,” Ben says, smirk pulling at his lips. The sky has almost cleared now, the gap in the curtain showing a bright white filling the sky, a tell-tale sign that snow is brewing. There’s still a fragile strip of burnt amber on the horizon, the last of the sunrise hanging around, too tired to let go completely. The glistening golds and fading pinks paint their room in shadows, yet despite all that, Callum is still the most beautiful view of all.

And then there’s few minutes of silence, of appreciation*, the kind that only comes with early mornings, before Ben decides now is probably the best time to do what he wants to do.

At Ben’s sudden movement, Callum shifts on his side, and focuses on Ben as he picks up a neatly wrapped box from under the bed. Callum frowns as he picks it up and turns it over, a simple Merry Early Christmas written on the tag, and a couple of kisses thrown in for good measure.

“This from you?” he questions, peering up at Ben through his lashes. Ben merely nods in reply, a sight blushing rising up his cheeks, suddenly feeling nervous, so unlike him. But this matters, it always does when it comes to Callum. “You didn’t have to get me anything—you shouldn’t have, Ben.” Ben shrugs, trying to keep that cool he’s so used to showing. “I wanted to,” he states simply, because really, that’s all there is to it.

When it comes to Callum, he wants. Always has. Always will. Callum doesn’t answer him, instead, he merely reaches down to unwrap the box, large hands enveloping it in one. He gets into the box then, pulls out the gift delicately, eyes shining in wonder, clearly surprised.

It’s a bauble; pristine cut with care and decision. But that’s not all it is, on one side are Callum’s initials, just a simple *C.H, yet engraved just as they are on Ben’s heart. And on the other is the year, *2019. The year that changed everything. “Ben—“ he starts, carefully opening the clear box the bauble arrived in, but is quickly interrupted. “It’s the same as all the others. Mine, Lexi’s, Lola’s, Jay’s, Bobby’s—everyone’s.” Ben ensures him. “We’ve all got one and I wanted you to have one too. Because—well, you’re part of this family too, you know? Whether you like it or not.”

“I do like it,” Callum answer immediately, mouth lifting, a tiny quirk as he pulls at the tape holding the box together. He looks up at Ben then, lashes dark and his eyes shining like galaxies. And that makes Ben’s heart jump, as he realises that no explanation of Callum’s eyes could ever be enough.

“Being part of this brilliant little family—and the bauble. I love it, Ben. Thank you so much,” he finishes, smile brighter than the winter sun. “You really shouldn’t have, Ben, but thank you. This is brilliant. You’re brilliant.” Bashfully, and with a hint of smugness, Ben looks down to his hands, cheeks most likely colouring a shade of red he’d be ashamed of, as he mumbles through a smile, “I know. You’re welcome.”

And yeah, he feels a little like he’s got fireworks trapped inside his chest, exploding into little shocks of happiness whenever Callum so much a slooks his way. It’s ridiculous, really.

Their lips brush then, but they’re still just breathing, just feeling the warm air settling around them, feeling the warmth of their limbs tangled together. There’s whispers shared between them, those kind that are only verbalised before the sun rises. Whispers of I can’t wait to spend every Christmas with you*, and We’re a proper family now*, and finally, when their mouths do meet, when Callum dips towards him and tucks Ben’s bottom lip between his own carefully, all is blessedly quiet.

And as the first sprinkle of snow drops from the sky outside, Ben decides that Callum’s kisses are like snowflakes; each one varying and unique, soft and delicate, melting away in an instant, yet seeping into his bones for an eternity.

[mysweetestcreature]

Something New

A/N: this is something of a passion write I had been working on during finals week back in May. Special thanks to my betas, @cherryyharryy and @meetmeinthehallwayhs for helping me through this :D

Word Count: 4.6k 

Warnings: some smut

Summary: Harry may have just found his new muse.

***

     The walls in Harry’s apartment are paper thin.

     He’s roused awake by the rattling of his keys on the table beside him. His heavy lids force apart, and he half expects to be blinded by the morning sun. Instead, he’s met with a skyline painted a dark navy with hints of orangey-yellow peeking from the bottom. Wiping the crustiness away from his thick lashes, he’s able to decipher the time and place. The clock on his right reads 4:21 AM in large, red figures that sting his eyes with their intense vibrancy. He can’t help but wonder who in their right mind would be awake this early and let alone have the energy to cause such a commotion at such a dreadful hour.

     A subsequent snort sounds from the back of his nose. The sleepiness he had felt when he’d gone to bed is quickly stripped away, but ever present with the unwillingness of his limbs to make themselves useful. He turns to lay down on his back and stares at the ceiling. It’s far earlier than he’s used to, but now his mind is running wild with thoughts that will surely bother him throughout the day. Like how he may or may have not forgotten to give his mum a ring like he said he would after he had gotten home from the club, or that he can’t recall whether he had given Niall his cousin’s number (Niall has a bit of a crush on her, although she doesn’t seem to be all that interested) while he was drunk and dancing to Cher’s Believe. Come to think of it, he isn’t even sure how he’s managing not to drift off considering he had only gotten in a little less than three hours ago.

     It takes longer than he would ever care to admit, but Harry is finally able to convince the rest of his body to leave the warmth of his sheets. The hairs on the back of his neck rise as his feet come in contact with the creaky wooden floorboards. He lifts off the mattress with a little jump, and it’s then the frigid air from the open window collides with his bare chest.

     He moves into the bathroom with dallying steps ­­–– after all, time seems to be on his side today –– that cease once he reaches the outside of the tub. He feels behind the other side of the curtain for the faucet, and it elicits the faintest whine as he turns the water on. 

     Once inside, he lets out a relieved sigh as the hot pellets land on his back and massage every inch of his skin. He stands with his arm outstretched and braced against the cool tiles with his head hung low, wet hair falling heavy in front of his eyes with water streaming from the ends.

     His other hand slowly slides down his body, starting from the butterfly tattoo on his abdomen leading south. He swallows hard as the tips of his fingers are tickled by the coarse hairs of his pubic bone. They move further down and wrap around his semi-hard cock one at a time. He hisses when he gives it a generous squeeze, bucking his hips forward on reflex. He begins to tug on himself, each proceeding breath becoming more staggered than the last.

     The tip of his member screams with a rose-flushed red. Each drop of water feels like electricity jolting each nerve in his body from dormancy. He shuts his eyes tight, leaning back against the wall as he jerks himself off in a quick but steady rhythm.

     There’s the slightest twinge of guilt that consumes just a part of his brain, but the larger part craves for the ultimate bliss of a much needed release. His other hand moves down to his aching balls. They feel tight as he rolls them with his palms, each stretch of the skin making his toes curl and creating a squeaking noise that echoes in the acoustics of the room.  

     He fantasizes being able to fuck his cock between a pair of supple breasts. How the mixture of sweat and his excitement allow for him to thrust through the tight valley with ease, far enough so that the head is just able to be sucked into her greedy mouth. Her expert tongue licks over him like a lollipop. Its underside brushes along his slit, and he’s unable to constrain himself from bucking forward and feeling the back of her throat. She gags on him, bolstering his ego. The vibrations of her lips cause a ripple of shocks to spread across the surface of his skin and startle his very core.

     “Fuck me,” he moans shakily as his knees begin to grow unsteady. His movements become more desperate, and he finds his mind drifting to filthier, more sinful thoughts that will surely reserve him a special place in hell. He imagines pushing into a mouthwatering pussy, drenched in the sweetest juices that takes every single inch of him until the slap of his skin against hers drowns out their husky and panting voices. The way her walls clasp around him, keeping him as deep within her nearly draws the cum from his taut balls and drives him closer and closer to seeing the blinding stars behind his lids. She screams out his name like a sacred hymn, looking up at him with lustrous eyes with each fluid roll of his hips against hers.

     He fists his cock aggressively for a while longer before his body begins to spasm as creamy ribbons progress out of him like an active stream. His lungs burn as they fill with the humidity around him. He twists the pointed end of the faucet, finally being allowed to breathe again under the frigid rush.

***

     Harry emerges from the bedroom half an hour later in a pair of well-fitting grey slacks with a crisp, gentle lavender button-up on top. He mindlessly goes through the task of making himself a cup of dark roast coffee and putting together a bowl of Corn Flakes with sliced bananas and half a cup of almond milk splashed on top. Sometimes, he likes to simply listen to his teeth as they crunch down on the grains until it slithers down his throat.

     There’s the screech of a chair against the floor that sounds from the apartment next door. He hadn’t even realized that it was being occupied until this moment. The people that used to live there, a train conductor called Emmitt Pearlstein and his eighty-year-old mother, had moved out only a few months ago.

     (To be honest, he’s still feeling a bit guilty for having never accepted any of their dinner invitations. But it’s not entirely his fault! He heard from Susan and Kelly from downstairs that all the food was blended since Mrs. Pearlstein refuses to get herself a new pair of dentures.)

     Maybe he’ll introduce himself when he gets a day off...whenever that will be. It is wedding season after all! And he’s booked for client meetings and events until the end of May. Harry is a photographer, and as circumstance have proven, one that is very in demand. The pay is more than decent to substantiate his current lifestyle ­­–­– i.e. pay his rent, put gas in his car, and set aside a few extra pounds for leisurely spending on a rainy day because Gucci isn’t cheap, after all!

     He slurps up the leftover milk in his bowl before rinsing it out in the sink. He checks his watch, 7:54, which gives him more than enough time to check-in at the office before touching base with the bride and groom (separately, as old school superstition dictates) staying at the hotel across town for some pre-ceremony pictorials with the entourage.  

     As he locks up behind him, his ears perk at the sound of the elevator’s ding just around the corner. Taking giant leaps, his tripod and camera case swinging over his shoulders, he’s able to thrust his hand through the slimming crack of the doors. There’s a girl inside, large chocolate brown sunglasses covering nearly half her face.

     “Morning,” he greets, nodding at her politely as he steps in. He pushes the already lit up lobby level button out of habit and waits patiently as the doors attempt at yet another close.

     On the reflection of the walls, he notices how she averts her gaze from looking anywhere but her suede ankle boots, and it’s as though she’s designated her position to be cramped up in the corner as far away from him as possible. Harry dips his nose close to his collar and takes a subtle whiff. Between his cologne and his botanical rain fabric softener, he thinks he smells pretty damn fantastic.

     The stiffness in the enclosed quarters makes the ride down from the fifteenth floor feel slower than real time. All that’s able to keep him engaged is the toe-tapping tune playing softly through the speakers. He gives the situation the benefit of the doubt, assuming that she’s not yet had her morning coffee or really is just very shy around strange men she encounters on the lift.

     A sniffle suddenly erupts between them, and Harry glances back up at her reflection just in time to see the tips of her fingers disappear underneath her glasses. He digs into his back pocket and pulls out a handkerchief. “Here,” he gives her a small sympathetic smile that nearly wavers when she looks up at him. “I’m sorry if I’m...if I’m intruding or anything.” He trips nervously on his words as they spill out. “I just thought you could-”

     “Thank you,” her voice is grateful but weak, as though she’s thoroughly tired out each cord, but the way it vibrates through his ears leaves him at a loss for words. She takes the handkerchief from him and pushes it under the frames of her shades and dabs gently. It’s then he sees her puffy red-rimmed eyes. They make contact with his, in a flicker that he isn’t sure ever occurred.

     His curiosity gets the better of him as he tries again for a better look when the bell rings signaling that they’ve arrived at the lobby. She nods at him, grinning faintly as she makes her way towards the glass door exit. It leaves Harry standing in the shaft to gape at the ghost of her trail.

     As soon as he steps out to follow, the doorman, Martin, stops him.

     “Harry, my man!” he exclaims, patting him on the shoulder a little too harshly. “Off to work, already? It’s what...” He glances down at his watch but soon his brows furrow, and he taps on the glass to get it start again. Typical Martin is all Harry can think as he rolls his eyes.

     “I could’ve sworn I just changed the battery on this! Last time I’ll ever get a fix behind a T.K. Maxx...” he grumbles, shaking his head as he continues to scold himself.

     “I told you, there’s a decent place around the corner. Cheap replacement. You’re in and out in ten minutes tops, mate,” Harry says.

     Only momentarily does he allow his eyes to wander back to the door and scan across the windows of the entrance.

***

     “Alright, I want big smiles from the lot of you,” Harry instructs the newlyweds and their families as they stand in front of the altar. “C’mon, Dad, I know you can do better than that.” The father of the bride sneers at him before begrudgingly offering the camera a minimal show of his teeth. “And...” Harry snaps a few shots, two with flash and three without. “Beautiful! Greatly appreciate it.”

     The rest of the guests pack into their cars as they move the celebration to the reception venue, leaving only Harry and the wedding party to take pictures in the church. As he’s packing up his camera and tripod, he feels someone tap him on the shoulder. He zips up his tripod before turning around.

     “Hi!” He’s met immediately with a flowy maroon skirt that nearly touches the marble floor before he trails his eyes up to find a face. It’s one of the bridesmaids, the one who had lit the candle, he thinks. He’d noticed her earlier while she proceeded down the aisle, and he definitely didn’t miss the way she looked at him while he took candid pictures of the ceremony.

     He smirks as he stands up. “Hey.”

     She leans in close to him, her breath tickling the shell of his ear as she whispers something naughty which he’s sure the guy upstairs won’t appreciate in his sanctuary. But fucking hell does this girl have a mouth on her. She backs away slowly, a mischievous grin spread across her plump lips.

     “I’ll see you later then, yeah?” she confirms as she pivots on her heel, glancing over her shoulder.

     This is a normal thing for him, as ill-sounding as it is. He’s twenty-five, single, and has a job that just so happens to put him in a position where he’s surrounded by boatloads of women on high-level emotional limbo because the effects of weddings make them more vulnerable and wanting some intimacy until an inevitable hangover dawns upon them the next morning. And hey, he’s only human and admittedly only has the competence to hold a relationship for a few hours.

     He tilts his head back, watching amusedly as she sways her hips for him. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

***

     It’s a little after 2am when Harry arrives back home. He’s exhausted, in more ways than one, and all he really wants at the moment is to collapse onto his bed and sleep in to an acceptable time. If only he were that lucky. The bride had pulled him aside as he was about to leave with an urgent color to her voice that required the pictures to be ready as soon as possible.

     Which, to put it into more exact terms, means that she wants it no later than forty-eight hours from the present time. And that doesn’t even take into account that he has another client wedding tomorrow afternoon which by the way, happens to be two and a half hours outside of London, which furthermore means he’s going to have to be out the door at least five hours beforehand because traffic is always unpredictable. He quickly pulls out his phone and looks for the email with the event details.

     Danvers-Belton Wedding

     (All he knows is that the bride-to-be’s family is fully loaded, and her engagement to her fiancé had been published in every entertainment paper in the city. Her dad is some CEO of a steel company or something like that. Harry had met him at their first meeting, and honestly, he had nearly spooked the shit out of him.)

     Getting back to work, he inserts the memory card into his computer and stares numbly at the pinwheel-like loading icon. His job is great and has its perks (that bridesmaid from earlier truly made it worth his while), but this process is no doubt the part he least looks forward to. There are probably about 3500 photos he’ll have to go through by the end of the night, and out of those, around 400 to 500 he’ll pre-select and send to the couple before he begins editing.

     He unbuttons his shirt down a little more than halfway, just enough for his chest to not feel so constricted in the stuffy atmosphere of his flat. “For fucks sake,” he groans, standing up from his chair and stalking across the living room to open the balcony door.

     The breath of the wind sends tingles down his spine as it dries the beads of sweat from his body. He steps out, hoping to rejuvenate himself before burying himself in his work. He stares into the deserted streets and thinks about how peaceful everything it is at this hour. Just the sound of the city asleep feels like living in an entirely different world, as though someone had pressed the pause button on time. Only the simplistic soundtracks of the night dances through his ears and make his eyes drift close as he enjoys it all.

     But something interrupts the natural melodies, an unexpected interrupted cadence written in with crayon in the score. His brows crease when it occurs again, but this time accompanied by a heavy weep. He looks to his left, Alfred Dimalanta’s place is pitch black inside (he might be working the nightshift tonight), and then to his right. A faint fluorescence wavers behind the curtains of the newly occupied flat.

      Inside, someone sobs uncontrollably. Harry steps closer to the rightmost rail of his balcony and crosses his arms over the cool metal. His head drops as he listens.

     He knows the feeling well.  

***

     “So, then I told her, ‘listen, I’ve been understanding of your situation, but you haven’t paid your rent in like four months...Joaquin is gonna chop up my balls then feed it to his tiger if I don’t collect it by the end of the week.’” Martin explains, using hand gestures to portray the possible castration in his future. Harry hums, only half paying attention has he sorts through his mail one by one.

     Junk.

     Junk.

     Ju-oh! Coupon for a free half-chicken from Nando’s!

     More junk.

     “You’re gonna share that, right?”

     Harry barely looks up. “Like you shared that pizza that I paid for on Tuesday?”

     “Hey!” Martin counters in defense. “You left!”

     “I left to use the toilet, and that was barely three minutes.”

     The doorman slumps down in his chair as he begs to disagree. Harry throws the rest of the unimportant letters in the waste bin beside them, only keeping the coupon and his monthly bank statement. As he’s about to respond to something Martin had just complained about, the lift dings.

     When he turns his head in its direction, the girl from yesterday emerges from it and similarly rushes out just as she had done before, even wearing the same sunglasses. She walks out of the lift in a dress that’s soft blue, pleated skirt flows like a wave as she gracefully moves through the lobby. He watches her this time and observes as she pushes out the door and crosses the street, soon disappearing out of the frame.

     “Is she new?” Harry asks, trying not to sound overly interested when he turns back.

     Martin gawks at him in disbelief. “She’s only been here for the last 3 months and living next to you, nonetheless! I’m surprised you lot haven’t met yet.”

*** 

     The Danvers-Belton wedding is nauseatingly perfect. Everyone is equipped with their oh-so happy smiles and photo-ready poses as Harry swims through the room snapping pictures that are meant to be candid. It’s as though they’re all in great joy over this seemingly destined union. The bride and groom are completely enthralled by one another, so much that they’ve barely mingled with the guests in favor of staring adoringly into each other’s eyes by the dessert bar.

     Harry pans around the reception hall –– which is more like some ballroom out of a princess movie, but that’s just his opinion –– with his camera as he looks for his next subject to capture since he’s taken enough lovey dovey pictures of the newlyweds for the time being. He takes one of the bride’s parents as the father engages in an animated conversation with some balding old men that he assumes are business associates of his. The mother smiles sweetly and nods next to the gentlemen even though her presence is completely ignored by all.

     The rest of the guests are all distributed in groups: there are the dancers moving their feet to a swing song played by the live band; the bargoers all giggling drunkenly over their fifth round of tequila shots; and those, like the father, chatting about how gorgeous the ceremony had been and discussing about how much this damn party must have cost (rumor has it, over £5,000,000). He takes shots of each niche.

     “You there, photographer!”

     He pulls the camera from his face and turns in the direction of the voice. It’s the grandmother ­­–– he thinks? He couldn’t tell you with all the Botox and fillers. “Take a picture of me by the ice sculpture, would you? Make sure I look thin!” The elderly woman strikes a side pose, the knee closest to the camera popping out and revealing her still flawless skin through the cuts of her dress. He signals when he’s finished, and the woman walks away without even a thank you. It’s something he’s used to by now.

     As he looks through the lens again, he’s able to preserve a particularly adorable moment. The flower girl and the ring-bearer high on the tips of their toes as they dig into the remainder of the once towering cake. He gets it, he’d been served a slice and it was the most delicate and divine thing to ever touch his palate in his entire life. And maybe he’ll bribe one of them with a crisp fifty-pound note to set aside a piece for him.

     Next to them, however, is someone who he’s only just taken notice of. He drops the camera so he can see with his own unobstructed vision. For a time, he switches between the two perspectives because he’s in such disbelief. The girl from his building, his neighbor as he’s recently discovered, is here, sitting by herself at the table with her own share of cake. She stares down at it with such intensity in contrast to the weak grip she has on her fork that seesaws in her grasp and above the edge of the plate.

     He debates whether he should approach her. Would that be weird? Would she think he’s stalking her? But why would he? Up until this morning, he thought she was just visiting someone for the week. What would he say? “Hey, I live next door! Sorry I haven’t introduced myself yet, but no time like a wedding, right?” or maybe “Hi, I’m Harry. I don't know if you remember, but we met briefly on the lift back at the Grove?” Oh god, since when has he become an imbecile at making conversation?

     Well, he supposes there are worse ways to make a first impression. He maneuvers through the other guests and pulled-out chairs, barely dodging a server with a heavy tray piled with used glassware and utensils. When he’s about a few steps from her, he halts, smoothing out his pants and making sure his collar is tucked away neatly in his suit jacket. He brushes his nose against the fabric, making sure his cologne hasn’t worn off in the six hours he’s been here. 

      “Hi.”

     Like slow-motion, she takes her eyes off her cake to lay them on him. She squints them almost suspiciously. I should’ve taken more pictures of Grandma; Harry thinks to himself. He bites down nervously on the inside of his cheek, going back and forth between walking away or evaporating on the spot.

      “I know you from somewhere,” she suddenly says, pondering. She props her hand under her chin and it’s only a few seconds later that her eyes widen in realization. “You live in my building!” She nods to the empty seat beside her.

      “Yeah,” he chuckles, graciously accepting her invitation. “I think you actually live next to me. I’m in 15D.”

     She laughs. “Really? Then why haven’t I seen you around before?” As a waiter passes by, she points to her empty glass of wine and sends him a quick ‘thank you.’ “A bit odd that I’m meeting my neighbor for the first time at a party nearly three hours away.”

     “That’s my fault,” he sheepishly admits. “I’m on a pretty strict schedule.” He holds up his camera. “Been snapping photos since one.”

      “A photographer, huh?” Her face brightens with amusements. “Have any of me on there?” Her smile is playful as she smiles shyly. She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear as she stares into her lap.

     It’s surprising how taken he is by such a seemingly innocent action. It’s the first time he’s really seen her without those large shades, and he’d be messing with himself if he said she isn’t beyond attractive. She’s wearing the same dress he’d seen her in this morning, and now he’s able to fully appreciate how perfectly she fills it out. But instead, all finds himself doing is admiring the glow of her skin in the light of the setting sun, and how a dust of rose pulls across her features terrifically. 

     He lifts up his camera, wanting nothing more than to commit this image to memory. She looks up at him. At first, she has a smile so virtuous that he’s unable to get a focus on her, but soon enough it falters when her attention flips to something behind him. It draws a frown in its place that causes Harry to lower his arms. He dares try to trace the line of her gaze back to whatever’s caused such an antagonistic shift in an otherwise splendid expression.

     The groom holds his bride close as they sway to a slow and sweet melody from the string quartet. They still look as happy as they gaze at each other, cherishing the final moments of this amorous evening.  

     “We used to date. Philip and I... Four years, actually.” The words are strangled, leaving her throat as though pushed out forcefully.

     “Oh, I-” but he’s left without anything to say. She lets out another laugh, but this one is coated in melancholy.

     “We broke up because he said he didn’t want to get married,” she pauses, taking a shaky breath that feels almost painful. “What he really meant was that he didn’t want to marry me.” Her voice begins to tighten even more, and his head drops when he hears the faintest sound of that first whimper. He stares at the ends of the tablecloth in reflection. “He got engaged to Bethany less than five months later. Funny how that works, yeah? How you can spend four years of your life thinking you’re on the same page, but it turns out you’ve been four chapters ahead the entire time.”

     Harry can’t bring himself to look her directly in the eyes. The music playing abruptly turns into something more heart-wrenching despite its major key. Without thinking, he reaches across the table and covers her hand with his and gives it a comforting squeeze. There’s nothing his words can do to alleviate even just a fraction of how this must affect her.

     “I’m sorry,” is all he can whisper. “That probably doesn’t mean much, but I am.” Through his lashes he sees how she acknowledges it with genial character as she bows her head slightly. 

     A silence falls between them, but neither make an effort to move their hands. There’s a clamor of dishes coming from the kitchen that manages to distract him for a bit. Harry watches with mild delight as Bethany’s father barges through the swinging doors, and he can see how the red slowly creeps up his neck. What person, he wonders, is having the displeasure of being at the end of the fire of fury.

     Another hand layers on top of his, grabbing his attention away from the unfolding scene. He studies their hands for a moment before finally facing her.

     “Y/n,” she speaks up, gently. “I’m Y/n, by the way.”

     The crevices of his dimples slowly sink in. “Harry.”

[princess-of-the-worlds]

After an attack, Klaus needs to be reassured that Caroline is okay. Smut ensues 😊

this turned out a bit long (around 2.6K). and guess who wrote smut for the first time ever. i hope it didn’t turn out too awkward or strange. 

Say Yes To This

After her high school graduation and Silas’s defeat,everything quiets down in Mystic Falls. It’s not perfect, but it’s relativelymore peaceful than it has been in the last few years since Stefan and Damonwaltzed into town.

Caroline attends Whitmore for four years, and Klaus staysin New Orleans. It’s not an easy separation, but the winter, spring, and summerbreaks she spends with him makes the pining more tolerable. Even with theMikaelson home empty, Klaus’s siblings having moved around the world to createtheir own lives, and Klaus and Caroline doing practically everything together,she still doesn’t manage to confess her feelings to him.

She doesn’t understand why. There’s nothing stopping her,nothing stopping them.

Either way, once she graduates Whitmore, she says goodbyeto Bonnie and Elena and buys a one-way ticket to New Orleans, moving intoKlaus’s house and getting a job as an intern at a nearby broadcasting station.

Still, then, not everything is perfect, which Carolinelearns the hard way when a coven of witches kidnaps her from a party that Klausthrows a month after she moves.

When Klaus storms into the abandoned mansion that they’veimprisoned her in and slaughters all the witches in a blur of blond and amber eyes,she raises her perfectly-shaped eyebrows at him in apprehension. “Really?” sheasks in her trade-marked tone of sarcasm.  “That was a gorgeous Armanisuit that you just ruined with all that blood.”

“Considering that I just saved your pretty blond head,sweetheart,” Klaus shoots back, “I don’t think you have a right to becomplaining.”

Caroline rolls her eyes in response, standing up andbrushing the dust off her clothes once Klaus snaps the chains that are now freeof the witches’ magic. “They wanted to use me as bait for you, so I cancomplain all I want.”

Klaus scowls, no matching quip ready on his tongue, and itis only then Caroline realizes how panicked he looks. Only a person who trulyknew Klaus would know to look for his slightly widened eyes, the whiteness ofhis knuckles, the flaring of his nostrils.

“Klaus,” she begins reassuringly, “I’m fine. You saved me.The witches couldn’t do me too much harm anyways.”

“If I had gotten here one moment too late,” Klaus statesblandly, “it’d have been a different story.”

He’s right, and Caroline knows that.

Caroline had been drifting through the crowd all evening,at the center of the party, conversing with guests and sipping champagne, allwhile remaining under Klaus’s vigilant eye. The moment he turned even theslightest, the coven pounced, injecting Caroline with a syringe of vervain thatthey’d mixed with a sedative before cloaking her and dragging her away. Theonly way they’d gotten in was because of a loophole they’d found in theMikaelson home’s wards.

They’d been in and out, and none of Klaus’s witches haddetected a thing, so, indeed, Caroline was very lucky that Klaus found her.

She stares at Klaus, really looks at him and seesthe beauty of his face, like the Greek gods carved his features from marble,and how the blood plasters his white dress shirt to his chest, revealing theripples of his muscular abdomen.

There’s a stray drop of blood smeared along the sharp ofhis jawline, and she wants to lick it off.

“Klaus,” Caroline gasps suddenly, struck by how much she wantsKlaus.

“Did I tell you,” Klaus murmurs, the rasp of his voicecausing wetness to pool from her pussy and dampen her panties, “how ravishingyou looked tonight?”

“No,” Caroline says, her breath catching. “Why don’t youtell me?” She moves backwards, away from the iron bedposts she was chained toand more towards the dusty bed itself, thoroughly aware of every movement andshifting of her body.

“You’ve always been brighter than the sun, but, tonight,you were irresistible. No one could draw their eyes from you,” Klaus drawls ashe stalks forwards, following Caroline. “Every time you moved, your dress wouldshift, and I would catch a glimpse of your panties. I wanted to pull them offwith my teeth. My cock has been perpetually hard all evening.”

“I could give you a hand with that,” Caroline repliessolemnly.

She tugs at the silk ties of her dress that are knotted atthe nap of her neck, and they give way. The dress plunges to the dirt-streakedfloor, pooling around her bare feet.

Klaus lets out a sudden rush of breath as his eyes feast onher blond curls knotted up in a bun, the graceful curve of her bare neck, theswell of her breasts beneath the black laciness of her bra, the smooth flatnessof her stomach but still with the faint stretch marks from her chubbier yearsas a human, the tiny black panties that cover her pussy, and then the miles ofthe porcelain skin of her shapely legs.

Caroline reaches a swift hand to pluck the pins from herhair, which falls to curtain her exposed throat and brush against the hollowsof her collarbone. “Your turn,” she tells Klaus, punctuating her statement witha crude thrust of her chin towards the clothed and prominent bulge between hislegs.

“I wasn’t aware we were playing strip poker, sweetheart,”Klaus comments with unreadable eyes, his pronunciation of sweetheart onlymaking her wetter. Still, when she levels him with a stare, he begrudginglycomplies.

First, he shucks off the black coat and tosses it behindhim. Then, he undoes the buttons of his dress shirt at an agonizing pace atwhich Caroline nearly complains until she notices the mischievous quirk of hislips.

“I’m surprised you haven’t died of blue balls by now,”Caroline remarks stalely, conveying just how unimpressed she is withKlaus’s little show.

His smirk widens as he finally, finally, speeds up.

Klaus allows his shirt to slip backwards and fall into aheap behind him. Then, in true dramatic Klaus fashion, he tears his dressslacks off until they’re joined by only a few threads. He kicks off his leathershoes and stands in front of Caroline buck-nude.

His chest is lean but still shaped with enough muscle tolet onlookers realize that Klaus is formidable enough in a fight. The familiarfeather tattoo is inked on the corner of his left shoulder. Towards the slopeof his hips, a trail of fine brown-blond hairs leads downwards, and Carolinefollows that trail with her gaze until her cerulean eyes land on Klaus’s cock,hard and red and already dripping precome, nestled between his muscular legs.

Her mouth waters, and her pussy clenches around air as sheimagines running her hands over his member and taking it inside her.

She can feel more slick gathering along the crotch of herunderwear, releasing a sharp, earthy scent that Klaus sniffs at and smilesviciously.

A cool breeze filters its way into the room, likely throughthe cracks in the roof, and her nipples pebble under the thin lace of her bra.

If possible, Klaus’s cock swells even more, to the pointwhere Caroline briefly wonders if it’ll even fit inside her.

“Now, what?” he demands with eyes that are hooded withlust, lashes fluttering slightly as he blinks.

She doesn’t reply, only reaches around herself to unhookher bra and drop it to the ground and then slowly and seductively ease herpanties off her hips.

Caroline takes a steady step towards Klaus, and he growls,his eyes immediately glued to her creamy breasts that sway hypnotically as shewalks.

She wants to keep on this teasing façade, but she can’ttake it anymore! She needs to run her hands over Klaus’s shoulders andabdomen, needs his cock in her, needs his lips on hers.

With a blur of speed, she collides into him, her nipplesbrushing against his skin as their bodies mold together. His lips descendroughly onto hers, and she rises onto her tiptoes to thread a harsh handthrough his already ruffled curls.

His kiss is dirty but oh so sinfully hot as histongue roughly fucks into the warm and wet depths of her mouth, tracing overher teeth. She nips at his bottom lip, and he growls menacingly into her mouth,trailing a hand around her hip and over her ass. The same hand squeezes her asscheeks tightly together, tracing a finger lightly over the tight furl of herass, before continuing to flick elegant fingers against the lips of her pussyand press briefly against her clit.

Her knees buckle slightly, and she keens, but, just asimmediately, the hand is gone from where she wants it the most.

Klaus snakes the same hand between them to roughly clutchat her breast, smearing the wetness from her pussy everywhere, and pinch hernipple. Caroline hisses and retaliates by hooking a leg over his hip andgrinding the warmth and slick center of her pussy against the velvety,unrelenting hardness of his cock.

Klaus tears their lips apart. “Don’t tempt me, love,”he warns.

Caroline snorts. “You know, for all your reputation, youturned out to be all talk and no actual action.”

He freezes in place, and Caroline watches his eyes darkenwith lust until the pupil is no longer visible. She worries at her lower lipwith her teeth as he clenches his teeth and harshly breathes out.

Then she squeals in surprise as Klaus hoists her up andtosses her abruptly onto the bed, the momentum stunning her enough that for amoment she stares up at the broken ceiling.

Just as she recovers, he crawls on top of her and snarls,“I’ll show you action.” It sounds cheesy enough that she would havegiggled, but then he ducks his head and mouths at her breast and swirls histongue around her nipple. She throws back her head and moans.

Klaus takes his time, lavishing her breasts with his tongueand tracing patterns into the skin of her stomach with his fingers. Helanguidly trails his mouth lower and lower, sucking bruises into her porcelainskin that heal and quickly disappear.

He’s teasing her, and it’s killing her. He’ll move hisfingers and mouth near and around her pussy but never actually touch heraching, dripping center.

The asshole is playing a manipulative, psychological catand mouse game!

“That’s it!” Caroline finally snaps when the lust and needis too much for her to bear. She shoves up at him, using the leverage ofher legs around his waist to climb on him and straddle him.

“You likely expect me to complain,” Klaus says coyly, “butI like this view just as much as the last one.” Predictably, his eyes arenarrowed and focused on her chest.

She rolls her eyes and looks down to see Klaus’s cock,still hard and weeping drops of precome . “Aww,” she says to it in a falselysaccharine tone. “Does somebody feel a little neglected?” She bends overto press a kiss to its head, and Klaus grits his teeth audibly. Caroline licksthe sharp, bitter taste of Klaus’s precome from her lips, and he watches themotion with rapid eyes.

Then she reaches down and firmly grips his cock in herright hand, squeezing slightly, and he throws back his head and groans.

Caroline smirks, realizing that she has found one ofKlaus’s most sensitive points.

With quick movements, Caroline shifts onto her knees andpositions her pussy over Klaus’s cock. Slowly, she brushes the head against herfolds, ghosting it over her clit. She relishes in the fact that Klaus’sexpression has become agonized.

She’d tease him more, but she can’t no longer tolerate herown lust, which has only been growing.

Carefully, Caroline sinks down, the walls of her pussystretching to fit gradually expanding to accommodate his length, which reachesspots that no man has ever before and presses everywhere.

“Huh,” she remarks simply, glancing down to where they arejoined. “That went well.”

Klaus groans in response. “Sweetheart,” he manages to say.“Move.”

“Alright, alright,” she says hastily. “Impatient,” shemurmurs under her breath, knowing quite well that he can hear her.

If having Klaus inside her felt amazing, thenactually moving is heaven on earth.

She rides him swiftly and mercilessly, moving up and downin sharp, jerky motion while her breasts jolt in rhythm. With each movement,the head of his cock is shoved up inside her, and she bites her lip out ofpleasure.

Klaus can only keep his head thrown back, expressionwrecked, and eyes closed, his neck curved alluringly.

“Who knew that Klaus Mikaelson was so submissive in bed?”Caroline remarks sharply, surprised that she can still string words togetherdespite how overcome she feels.

Riding Klaus’s cock is a thousand times better than fuckingherself with her largest dildo, especially since she can feel Klaus like ironrebar in her but pulsing and warm.

Klaus’s eyes flutter open, and he smiles crookedly. “Iassure you, I can be quite dominating when I want to, but I enjoy all kinds ofsex.”

Caroline hums and briefly wonders what it would be like tostraddle his head with her thighs and shove her pussy into his face until hehas no option but to eat her out.

That idea sends a thrill through her spine as she realizessex with Klaus bring out her kinky side in a way that no sex has before.

She moans enthusiastically, steadying one hand against theplanes of his chest and using the other to cup her breasts and massage andsqueeze.

“Enjoying yourself?” Klaus asks dryly, but then she slamsdown on him, and he’s back to being at a loss of words.

Beneath her, the muscles of Klaus’s legs draw up tighterand tighter as his spine begins to lift off the bed. He worries at his lip.

“Close?” Caroline asks, and, when Klaus confirms it with ashaky nod, she reaches down to rub at her clit furiously.

Moments later, she moves one last time on Klaus’s cock,which combined with the friction on her clit is enough to send her over, andthen he stiffens and comes inside her in a flood of warmth, his spine archingeven more of the bed.

He cries out her name when he comes.

She pants and then lifts off Klaus’s cock. Both of theireyes wander to her pussy, and they watch curiously as his come sticks to herthighs. She lifts her eyes and meets Klaus’s before he surges forward.

He flips them over and shoves three fingers into her pussy,fingering her roughly enough that in a matter of seconds her walls tightenaround him and she comes a second time, blacking out for a minute.

When she rouses, Klaus has wiped their come with his suitjacket and is smirking at her. “That was satisfying,” he says dirtily.

She eyes scratches near his collarbone that are healing andrealizes that she left them there in the chaos of her second orgasm; sheflushes red. “If you insist,” she shoots back, still blushing.

“Round two?” he questions.

She shakes her head. “I will definitely say yes, seeingthat you gave me two more orgasms than most men do during the first time.But…just not here.” Caroline casts a wary look at their battered surroundingsbefore staring at the dirty bed they had just defiled and the bodies scatteredaround it. “I could use a blood bag, actually.”

Klaus must really be satisfied if he doesn’t teasinglyoffer her blood from one of the willing humans they keep on retainer. “I coulduse some refreshments,” he agrees.

“Good,” Caroline says as she slips off the bed. “But, nexttime we start with you eating me out until my legs collapse under me. Capiche?”

He nods. “Of course, sweetheart.”

[mmmmmmmmmmmmphf]

Business art (1/???)

Pairing: TaeKey

Length: 2913 words

          New York was everything – spiral of streets, red brick buildings, shiny glass, dusty corners, smoking drainage catch pits – but peaceful haven, refuge of sleeping stars and few light points of windows. For Kibum red neon lights of American dream were like fitted crimson overall made from glossy leather from Fendi’s autumn collection; stylish, full of youthful silliness and tired pulsating energy. From the moment when a city has welcomed him with its unstoppable rush on John F. Kennedy airport, he knew that teenager from Daegu will find there everything Korea has never dreamt of.

          And if Kim Kibum, sixteen years old, who put his foot for the first time on American soil, hasn’t had a clue how to swallow an enormous dose of depravity, then Kim Key, currently twenty years old student of business school emitted it personally, with every trickle of smoke joining a process of ozone depletion. Cigarette sit between his slim fingers and fire relentlessly hollowed millimetres of tobacco, systematically changing into dust. Key moved his arms and gold sparkles fell into a darkness stretched under his balcony on Peter Cooper Village. Noise of cars from First Avenue blended in his ears into silence – to be honest he couldn’t remember last time without any form of noise around him. New Yorkers don’t have this type of luxury.

          Finally, there wasn’t anyone around, so he could let his thoughts off, which among numerous groups of friends didn’t have a chance to be thoroughly achieved. Few hot minutes on sticky air of American night were perfect nutrient for mind and spirit.

          He rested his cheek on hand and with bored interest observed grey smoke, wandering lazy circles in stuffy air. Great description of life, he thought, inserting a finger right in a middle of tinning smoke; like curious child, checking limits of various things. We circle only to be shortly forgotten.

          He was perfectly aware that with last possible inhale of cig he should leave a balcony and develop an interest in notes, waiting inside his room to put some information in his head with aggressive colours. He knew how necessary it was for his education – that’s why he threw still smouldering end of a cigarette to flower pot with a wilted palm decorated with lights and took next one from a package. Soft sound of menthol click got lost in the air followed by characteristic cradle of a lighter. Residents of tenements on the other side of a street could see again a red point against the black background of Kim’s windows.

          He couldn’t stop a memory of another town coming to his mind – different from his home in every respect. Drowning in pomegranate and yellow, under a care of cypress tree, stars and golden moon. Kibum looked up. Just like he expected starlight has been long gone, absorbed by all red neon lights and only moon was blinking to him from behind the clouds – even moon seemed to be dim, or was it always so grey? Skin above his elbow sting a little, still sensitive after a freshly made tattoo and he lowered his eyes, caught by falling sparkles from a cigarette. Definitely it used to be brighter.

          He wondered if Van Gogh would have gone crazy closed among skyscrapers – would illness hollow his mind if he lived in an expensive loft, paid forty thousand dollars in cash for annual tuition, made silly hurtful tattoos and smoked fifth cigarette, which were the last in painfully new package of Vogue. Kibum’s lips spread in smile lacking amusement. There wasn’t any other option, he had to go crazy, this moon would drive anyone mad. Anyone?

          He felt (at least he should, that’s why he told himself he did) excitement about a visit in Museum of Modern Art and he thanked God that his department didn’t limit its students only to subjects furiously boring – but he knew he won’t miss thorough analysis of B2C strategy and declining balance method regarding exhibitions, because life of a business student cannot be lean on naïve absorption of art, whydoIstudythis. Shamefully for all this years spend in New York, never once had he gone to this art sanctuary even if there was one of his favourite paintings there. Teenagers are busy with other matters and before anyone could think about it, they could only be embarrassed about losses in their life experiences.

          Maybe I should go to France, he thought, not seeing how lost air blow lifted next sparkles from an end of his cig. Maybe a little bit of sunshine would change me into walking example of happiness. His therapist would pleasantly nod his head and smile widely, looking for any progress in his fight with Kibum’s mind. Weather is often a catalysator of emotions, France would be great for you, especially south, Kibum, same goes for change of environment. The moon hid completely behind clouds and he hoped it was smoke from his five cigarettes that covered it from his sight.

          Kibum regretted he couldn’t do anything about an emptiness closing his mind in a painful darkness – maybe he would have found any comfort in painting over hollowing everything nothingness. Instead he could check GPD of South Asian countries, distinguish classical conditioning from operant and read a balance sheet with comprehension whydoIstudythis. His soul has shed more than one tear because of lack manifest of his feelings more significant than hours upon hours of unhealthy cry. Maybe Paris would wake up his dormant impressionist, and before end of everything he would make pieces of art only to die and double their value.

          Seven. Seventeen, twenty-seven thirtyseven, since childhood seven has been his favourite number – at the beginning only thanks to influence of Harry Potter, but with time it grew to a little bit mature approach. So typical that even such silly matter changed in his life into fucking tragedy. Van Gogh died at the age of thirty-seven.

          The moon showed on the sky the moment he shut a door and closed curtains.

              If he were to be absolutely honest, Kibum would admit that one hundred and thirty dollars for bottle of perfumes is definitely too much – that’s why he used his Valentino Uomo only a little bit more to make sure he’s dramatic enough. Smelling mix of bergamot, coffee and hazelnuts drying on his wrists and neck he realised people want to highlight they are alive even with their scent. Otherwise why would they pour perfumes on their pulse?

          Kibum stood in front of a mirror and with characteristic move started fixing his fringe, which freshly blow dried seemed to be unusually fluffy – it gave him silly hope this day won’t be much worse than the others. He should have long abandoned such behaviour that brings him only disappointment, when darkness in his head wins again.

               With critical eye he evaluated his appearance in a mirror to make sure he looked fashionable enough – fact that majority of his course doesn’t bother about something so trivial doesn’t mean he would let himself be any less than perfect. Black and white creepers, high socks with embroidered characteristic double C, huge jeans jacket with rolled up sleeves covering stripped top, carelessly tugged into washed jeans with slovenly ripped leg. Yves Saint Laurent would be proud. His attention caught visibly marked under the material thighs and again he swore he wouldn’t eat anything more than two hundred and thirteen calories in his life.

               He bought a coffee in Starbucks while pretending to notice interested glance of barista. Kim saw it but didn’t actually believe it’s really there – such ill thoughts have been following him constantly for years now, even if his therapist detailed every reason why it’s absurd. He smiled with a flirt in a corner of his lips, took his venti ice americano on double coffee shot, turned on his heel and completely ignored cute message scribed with black sharpie on transparent cup. He made this boy a favour, ignoring his attend to get into Kibum’s life.

Quickly he got to Sixth Avenue, moving around as a true New Yorker – not looking at people among him, hurrying to his matters. They were supposed to meet with whole department at destination so texting with one hand and tightly holding a coffee in the other, Kibum took an orange metro line on Seventy First. For ten minutes he managed to empty half of a cup – why didn’t he think how awfully hot it is – and he jumped out at Fifty Third. With help of Google Maps he got to museum, which by mix of metal and glass truly put into mind word ‘modernism’.

               In no time he found Woohyun and Jack who also were drinking incredibly large and incredibly sweet ice coffees, trying to fight American sun, wanting to kill them for sure, it’s ridiculous how hot it was.

               ‘’I’ve finished my part of a report, so we can meet tomorrow at Kibum’s and put everything together” Key, Key thought with irritation, looking around people’s shoes to show his visible lack of interest on mentioned mutual assignment. Ending ‘bum’ in his name was quite unfortunate in English speaking society, so he put a lot of thoughts to make people call him only with his nickname. Only Nam seemed to not understand such a simple request.

          Unknowingly his eyes have caught familiar mix of colours – pomegranate and yellow, uneven brush strokes even more distorted by printing on the socks. Cypress looked like a tower, really, and a town has disappeared behind the edge of short martens. Before Kibum could see anything more than amazingly skinny legs in wide pants, these walked away along with their owner, who had to have extremely dramatic sense of humour to wear on their feet a reproduction of panting they will see in a couple of minutes in original.

          He quickly forgot about this person when Woohyun suddenly reminded him about his presence and Jack let them know their professors appeared with these enormously expensive entry tickets. They flood inside like only group of twenty years olds can and started their journey through modern art sanctuary. Kibum had to admit being impressed by what human beings can create with their only two hands and loads of imagination.

             While standing behind Cathy Wilkes’ installation Kibum tried to define if he’s amazed or confused by artist’s choice of showing woman’s body. Then he smelled familiar bergamot mixed with something extremely strong which make him think about sitting in full sun while wearing leather jacket with bouquet of sweet flowers. Key tore his eyes away from half naked figure of a women and with partial interest tried to find a person who would wear such wonderfully difficult and universal perfume in equally dramatic amount as Kibum his Valentino.

          He looked at a small group of students whose interest has been set on extremely intricate installation on a wall. Key didn’t know what was so familiar about them even though he was sure he hasn’t seen them at campus even once – he didn’t even know if it was someone from them who smelled so interesting. That’s why he moved to a next room, and shortly redhead hair of one of the boys has disappeared from his memory.

             After getting to know works of Marina Abramovic Kibum promised himself he won’t ever get interested in art of performance to have better night sleep of course when he could fall asleep at all.  He broke this resolve the moment he crossed a border of Bruce Nauman’s exhibition and completely fall for brilliant use of neon lights, photography and oh God Art Make-Up would drive their finance prof crazy, Kibum loved it.

          ‘’I’d like to go to Paris’’ someone sighed the very same moment Key took off headphones after listening to dramatic dialogue in mix of every languages in the world. He wouldn’t have put a second thought to this because who wouldn’t if it weren’t for next words, said with a familiar accent. Kim tried to get rid of it for long and difficult years. ‘’All real artists are from Paris”.

          The boy was an inch taller than Kibum, had longer ginger hair loosely tied at the top of his head and was someone that could be name ‘an art person’ in Kibum’s opinion. Piercing through whole ear, colourful tank top freely hanging down to mid-thigh, pants with wide leg and… post-impressionist socks. So dramatic boy was an impressionist enthusiast and even shared Kibum’s dream, very often misunderstood by his friends so far.

          Before anyone from the boy’s group has realised someone paid them more attention than to art around them, Kibum withdrew from a room to find a toilet and then go straight to his favourite piece of art in 1880-1950 paintings exhibition.

             It could be expected that ‘The Starry Night’ would be catching attention of great number of visitors so Kibum didn’t frown too much seeing a lot of heads and not the painting. He couldn’t be named a patient man but for his inspiration he would wait just enough time for people to move and let him see everything clearly.

          Deep peace of a town, quiet still cypress’ peak and church tower patiently watching over it touched Kibum in a difficult to explain manner, especially when taking under consideration artist’s biography. Nobody was sure if Van Gogh has created this painting while having an anxiety attack but Kibum was sure that if it was a case, then recreating the village from his memories brought him temporary relief. That he put all his worries into dramatic sky and guarded them with powerful stars and moon and maybe that’s why he wasn’t pleased with his work who would be pleased, looking at their rotten soul taking a form.

          Bergamot, pepper and lilies of the valley. Key knew this scent and for a couple of seconds he wondered how much he was insane, who remembers random people’s scents. Kibum discretely looked at his left and he would lie only a little if he said he didn’t expect to see this strange boy who caught his attention numerous times in museum full of people.

          Dark eyes lined with kohl looked intensively into mix of shadows of the painting and if Key weren’t a serious business student because he was he would have thought that the boy left New York long ago. That he observed quiet Saint Remy in June 1889 with Van Gogh and that’s why he got to understand everything a painter wanted to show – he was far in a journey while Kibum only just began his. Impression was electrifying and soothing at once and Key would only think about a sun radiating from certain posture of a stranger.

          ‘’You’re aware it’s really rude to stare at someone like that?” the boy asked, not taking his eyes from a painting which made Kibum realise that he had to see him looking all the time.

          ‘’You’re aware you have a reproduction of painting worth millions on your socks?’’ an answer was so much Kibum – fast and aimed on keeping his opponent off guard. Boy’s eyes firstly moved to his shoes then following to Key’s face who suddenly wanted him to stare again at the painting. He couldn’t exactly put a word to the feeling that got him, but Kim knew it went beyond his comfort zone and he wasn’t sure if it bothered him.

          ‘’As long as it’s only reproduction it’s fine. It’d be worse if I decided to wear an original, don’t you think?’’ Kibum didn’t expect such an answer, it was in the middle between serious question and joke and he didn’t know which route he should take to not be considered insane.

          ‘’You should try” he said eventually, deciding to take a game with completely serious face, just as he really considered running to a piece of art, throwing it off the wall and making a perfect suit for this boy. ‘’It will match your socks”.

          A stranger smiled slightly and leaned over to Kim, as he’d like to reveal him a secret. Sweet lilies of the valley prevailed pepper and Kibum didn’t know if he’s still breathing.

          ‘’I’m more for Monet and Dali, but I will help you here, if you help me later’’ no, he wasn’t breathing. That’s why when he burst into laugh, he smelled again an intense doze of perfumes that surely mixed with his own scent of mellow evening. For a second Kibum wondered what’s the effect of their composition, but he quickly waves off this thought to focus on a strange talk.

          ‘’First, I have to know with whom will I steal and ruin quite good impressionism” he said in fluent Korean, almost sure a boy won’t have any problem with understanding. And if his surprised face was any indication, Kibum felt proud of successfully covering his accent of sixteen years. He was also satisfied to surprise a stranger who seemed to be a bunch of interesting secrets in Kibum’s eyes.

          ‘’Lee Taemin” he introduced himself, bowing a little and oh Kibum almost forgot about excessive politeness of Koreans. He didn’t know where his reluctance towards strangers went. He forgot for a little while about a moon.

          ‘’Kim Key’’ answered, not paying attention to any piece of art anymore.

             A few weeks later Kibum discovered that Taemin uses Tuxedo from Yves Saint Laurent, two hundred and three dollars for a bottle and he admitted Lee was dramatic enough to steal pieces of art together.

[vegajoyce]

Schwarzkopf Pro Styling Heat Protection Spray How To Open Surprising Diy Ideas

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[28northgroup]

35 Money-Saving Household Habits

Image: Anderson The Fish

Your house gives you so much: security, pride, shelter. With all that on the line, it's easy to assume the costs of keeping it up just are what they are. But wait. There are plenty of expenses that are simply a waste.

Here's how to save money each month without putting a dime of home value at risk.

#1 Clean Your Light Bulbs

What? Who does that? Well, smart people (who want to about shrewd,  small ways to save money). A dirty bulb emits 30% less light than a clean one. Dust off both the bulb and fixture, and you might be able to cut back on the number or brightness of lights in each room without noticing any difference.

#2  Keep Your Fridge Full

Solid items snuggled together retain the cold better than air and help keep each other cold — requiring less energy overall. Leaving town for awhile and fridge is empty? Fill voids in the fridge or freezer with water bottles.

#3 Switch Your Bulbs to LED’s

By replacing just five of your most-used incandescent bulbs with uber-efficient light-emitting diode (LED) bulbs, you could save $75 a year on your energy bill.

And LED’s last 15 to 20 times longer than incandescent, so you won't have to replace them nearly as often.

#4 Use Power Strips

Here's how to save money on bills -- a lot of it. Appliances like coffee makers, TVs, and computers continue to suck power even when they're off — which can cost you $100 a year. And did you know the AC adapter for your laptop keeps drawing power even if the laptop isn't plugged in? Stop this slow money burn by connecting them to an easy-to-switch-off power strip.

#5 Use a Toaster Oven When Possible

Toaster ovens use 50% to 70% less energy than a full-size oven.

#6 Set Your Water Heater to 120 Degrees

Hot water heaters often come with a factory setting that's higher than you need. You'll cool your water heating costs by 3% to 5% every time you lower the temperature setting by 10 degrees.

#7 Insulate Your Water Heater

For $30 or less, an insulating jacket or blanket can shave 7% to 16% off your water heating costs for the year. Just make sure to follow the manufacturer's directions to avoid creating a fire hazard.

#8 Wash Clothes in Cold Water

Image: Anna Rodé Designs

Just switching from hot to warm water will cut every load's energy use in half, and you'll reap even more savings taking the temp down to cold. And don't worry: Your clothes will get just as clean from cold water, thanks to the efficiency of today's detergents (except in the case of sickness; you'll want hot water and bleach then).

#9 Use the Right Dryer Cycle

If you're using a high-heat setting for each load, you could be using more energy than you need. Almost all fabrics can be dried with a lower heat setting, such as the permanent press setting. It uses less energy and has the added bonus of extending the life of your fabrics. Save the higher heat for  items such as sheets and towels.

#10 Use Homemade Cleaners

Many commercial products rely on baking soda or vinegar for their cleaning power, so why not make your own? Most homemade cleaners cost less than $1.

#11 Cut Back on Laundry Detergent

Never mind the barely visible measurement lines in the cap: You typically only need a tablespoon of detergent. And, clothes actually get cleaner when you use less, because there's no soap residue left behind.

#12 Ditch Disposable Sweeper and Mop Head

Stop throwing money away every time you clean! Refill your Swiffer Sweeper with microfiber cloths. Just cut to size and use them dry for dusting or with a little water and floor cleaner for mopping. Or switch to a microfiber mop with a washable head.

#13 Stop Buying Dryer Sheets

Another easy swap? Give up your dryer-sheet habit (about $7 for 240 loads) in favor of wool dryer balls (about $10 for six, which last more than 500 loads each). Of course, depending on your laundry preferences, you can always just go without either.

#14 Cut Scouring Pads In Half

Most clean-ups don't require a full one.

#15 Don't Rinse Dishes

Image: Cavan Images/Offset

Two minutes of rinsing with the faucet on full-power will consume 5 gallons of water — the same amount efficient dishwashers use during an entire cycle. Shocking, right? And it's an unnecessary step, since most newer models are equipped to remove even stubborn food debris. Just be sure to clean the dishwasher trap regularly to keep your dishwasher running efficiently.

#16 Keep a Pitcher of Water in the Fridge

You won't have to waste time and money running the faucet, waiting for it to get cold enough for a refreshing sip.

#17 Set a Timer for the Shower

The average American takes an eight-minute shower and uses about 17 gallons of water. It's easy to linger, so set a timer for five minutes. Or try this more entertaining idea: Time your shower to a song or podcast segment.

#18 Install Low-Flow Fixtures

In addition to water-conserving practices, low-flow showerheads, which cost less than $10, and other fixtures can drop your water use in the shower by 43%.

#19 Hack a Water-Hogging Toilet

If you don't have a water-conserving toilet, there are water-saving retrofitting kits that could yield about $110 in savings every year. Or place a half-gallon milk jug filled with water into the tank — in the corner and away from the flapper and ball-cock assembly. Every time you flush, you'll save.

#20 Close Closet Doors

Each closet and pantry may hold a paltry amount of square footage, but you're still heating and cooling it. Add up all the storage space, and you've got the equivalent of a small room. Shut the doors to keep the conditioned air out.

#21 Program the Thermostat

Program your thermostat to turn the heat down by 3 to 5 degrees when you're not home and at night, and set it to bump the temperature up by the same amount when the A/C is cranking. You'll save $10 to $20 a month and never feel the difference.

#22 Don't Crank the Thermostat Up or Down Too Far

Varying the setting by 10 or more degrees when you're gone for work or over the weekend is overkill. Your HVAC system will have to work overtime to get back to the ideal temperature, erasing your savings.

#23 Use Fans Year-Round

Image: Iaobzjls/Getty

Ceiling fans can reduce your summer cooling costs and even reduce winter heating bills — but only if used correctly. Flip the switch on the base to make the blades rotate counterclockwise for a cooling effect or clockwise to help distribute heat in the winter. And in the warmer months, an attic or whole-house fan can suck hot air out and help distribute cooler air so you can give the A/C a little break.

#24 Caulk or Weatherstrip Around Doors and Windows

Caulk may not have the charisma of something like solar panels, but using it to seal air leaks around doors and windows will deliver immediate savings rather than a 14-year payback. You'll spend $3 to $30 and save 10% to 20% on energy bills.

For gaps between moving parts that can't be caulked, add weatherstripping.

#25 Add Insulation

This is a bigger weatherizing project than caulking or weatherstripping, but it could yield more than $500 in yearly savings. While your home should be properly insulated from the roof down to the foundation, prioritize the attic, under floors above unheated spaces, around walls in a heated basement and in exterior walls.

#26 Plant Shade Trees

Image: Liz Foreman for HouseLogic

Block the summer sun to lower cooling costs. Planting one shade tree on the west side and one on the east side of your home can shield your home from the sun during the summer months (but avoid south-side trees, which block winter sun). By the time they're 15 years old, these two trees can reduce your energy bill by 22% , while adding value to your home.

#27 Use Curtains as Insulation

Another way to practice energy-saving passive heating and cooling? Open curtains on sunny windows in the winter and close them up in the summer.

#28 Cool with a Cross Breeze

On a breezy day, open a window on the side of your house that's receiving the breeze, then open another on the opposite side of the house. Make sure the window on the receiving side is open a little less than the exhaust side to accelerate the breeze. You can also use a fan if there's no breeze outside.

#29 Check Your Mortgage's PMI

If your mortgage was for more than 80% of your home's purchase price, you could be paying more than $50 a month, and as much as $1,000 a year, for private mortgage insurance (PMI). So as soon as you have at least 20% equity in your home, contact your lender to terminate the policy — they aren't necessarily required to notify you when you reach that threshold.

Another option for ditching PMI? If your credit score or debt load has improved since securing your mortgage, look into refinancing with more favorable terms.

#30 Check Your Home Insurance for Savings

Your homeowners insurance should change as your life changes. Buying an automatic generator or installing security alarms could reduce your premium by 5% or more.

Bundling your home and auto coverage could save even more — up to 20% off both policies. But the point is to compare and do a price check to see if you can save.

Surveys have found you could be paying a lot more than what another insurer would charge for the same coverage. So you could save by going with a new company, or by using their quote to bargain with your current provider.

#31 Borrow Tools Instead of Buying

How often are you going to use that $600 demolition hammer once you remove your bathroom tile? Not so much? Rent it from a home-improvement store for a fraction of the cost. Be sure to do the math for each tool and project though; sometimes the rental price is high enough to justify buying it.

Or join a tool lending library or cooperative to borrow tools for free or much less than retail stores.

#32 Cut Back on Paper Towels

Two rolls of paper towels a week add up to about $182 every year! Instead, try machine-washable cotton shop towels. They clean up messes just as fast and cost less than $2 for five. Save paper towels for messes that need to go straight into the trash, like oil and grease.

#33 Stop Buying Plants for Curb Appeal Every Year

Image: Marna McGlinn of Marna McGlinn Ceramics

A pop of color in your landscaping perks up your curb appeal. But instead of wasting household funds on short-lived annuals, invest in perennials that will keep giving for years to come.

#34 Water Grass in the Morning to Save on Your Water Bill

Turning the sprinkler on at midday is kinda like watering the air — especially when the mercury soars. Lose less to evaporation by watering during cooler hours (but avoid overnight watering, when too-slow evaporation can invite fungus growth).

#35 Make Your Yard Drought-Tolerant for Long-Term Savings

Save $100 or more yearly by replacing water-hogging plants and grass with drought-tolerant and native species, and beds of rock or gravel. You'll save time on maintenance, too.

Adopt a few of these home tips to find a bit more cash each month.

View original post here: Read or visit houselogic.com for more articles like this.

© Copyright 2020 NATIONAL ASSOCIATION OF REALTORS®

Used by permission as a REALTOR®

[alya-bug]

Falling for You Chapter 1

My contribution to Fluff Month. I created the outline for this story from the Fluff Month prompts, but they are not in order and it is definitely not going to be done by the end of the month. 

Dedicated to @lahiffed because she is great. 

Summary: Marinette falls for Alya and their relationship changes from best friends to girlfriends. 

Read it on Ao3

Buy me a coffee?

“Oh, this would look so cute on you!” Alya said, holding up a dark pink A-line dress.

“I like the neckline.” Marinette agreed, feeling the fabric thoughtfully. It was a soft cotton blend. Very comfy.  “It’s a little short though. I don’t know if I could pull it off.”

Alya laughed. “Girl, you can pull anything off. Don’t worry.”

Marinette blushed, feeling warm at her praise. She considered the dress. It was pretty cute. And she always liked wearing things that Alya liked. She checked the tag and grimaced. “Uh, no. I could make this myself for a fourth of that price.”

“You’re so stingy.” Alya rolled her eyes and continued looking through the racks.

Marinette put the dress back, making sure to remember the style of the neckline to use on a future project. “I just don’t see why I would spend that much when I could make it myself.”

“Point.” She considered a shirt for a second before moving on. “You need to make me more things, so I don’t have to buy clothes either.”

“I have designed you so many things.” Marinette pointed out, a blush threatening to creep up her face again. It was easy to design clothes for someone as pretty as Alya. “You just always get impatient during the fittings.”

“You take so long and you always poke me with the pins.” Alya complained, her attention on a rack of button downs.

Marinette rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t if you didn’t squirm so much!”

Alya stuck her tongue out and started to grab a plaid shirt off the rack. Marinette grabbed her arm.

“Oh no you don’t. Put it back.” Marinette warned.

“But I like plaid!” Alya whined.

“And you have like, 30 plaid shirts. You said specifically that you wanted something ‘cute and different’. While plaid may be cute, it’s definitely not different.” Marinette took her appointment as fashion adviser very seriously.

Alya pouted but she put back the shirt. She shrugged. “I’m not seeing anything here really. Want to try somewhere else?”

“Sure.” They headed out of the boutique and wandered down the quiet, narrow street. The afternoon sun peeked through the buildings and glinted off Alya’s reddish curls. Marinette lost all track of what she was going to say as she admired the way the sunlight created a halo of wispy hair around Alya’s beautiful face. It was suddenly hard to breath.

“This one looks cute.” Alya’s voice broke through her daze. She was pointing to another boutique, smiling widely. Marinette blushed and followed her inside the shop. It was cute inside, lots of dresses in various colors. Marinette’s fashion focused mind picked out several displays with outfits that deserved a closer look.

Alya grinned and marched over to a rack, determinedly looking through it. Marinette chuckled to herself. Alya always came shopping with a goal and went about it systematically. It was cute to see her so focused. Marinette glanced around slowly, not really planning on buying anything today unless something jumped out at her.

Alya picked a dress off the rack and held it up to herself. “What do you think of this?”

The dress was a deep red, with a flared skirt and a thick black strip around the waist. It was cute and would definitely look great on Alya.

She gave her a thumbs up. “Try it on!”

Alya looked at the tag and frowned. “It’s not my size.”

That wouldn’t do! Marinette scanned the small boutique, seeing if they had more of the same dress in another location. After a brief search she spotted the deep red color over by the window. Quickly she checked the tags. Success! Marinette held up the dress in triumph.

“Yay!” Alya said, and Marinette felt a warm pride at being able to help. Alya took the dress from her and ran her hand over the neckline. “I think this one is slightly different though.”

Marinette tilted her head. “Yeah, this one has more strappy sleeves. I think I like it more, actually.”

“Yeah, same.” Alya grinned, making Marinette’s stomach flip.

“Are you going to try it on now? Or look around more.” She asked, pushing down the confusing nervous feeling.

Alya held the dress out in front of her, admiring it. “I, like, really like it, so I think I might just try it on.”

“Go for it.” Marinette said, encouragingly.

Alya grinned and headed towards the small dressing room. Marinette looked idly at the nearby racks as she waited for her best friend to change.

“Oh, girl, it’s so cute!” Alya’s excited voice came from behind the curtain.

“Show me! Show me!” Marinette demanded.

“One second.” There was the sound of a zipper and then the curtain opened.

Marinette felt like she had been punched in the stomach. Alya looked amazing. The flare of the skirt hugged Alya’s full hips, the hem swirling at her knees. The black sash sat right under her breasts, bringing attention to her curves, and the sweetheart neckline and the cut of the straps accentuated her strong shoulders.

“How do I look?” She asked, spinning around. Her hair lifted and flowed as she spun and Marinette felt dizzy watching her. Alya smiled, lips quirking to one side and Marinette was overwhelmed with the desire to kiss her.

“G-great!” Marinette managed to force out, face hot and heart beating fast. What was going on? This was how she felt when she was around Adrien, but this was just Alya. Just smart, loyal, strong, beautiful Alya. Her best friend.

Alya’s smile was the brightest thing she had ever seen. “Awesome. I really like it and it’s not too expensive, so I think I might get it.” She swished the skirt from side to side for a moment before closing the curtain to change back into her regular clothes.

Marinette held onto a table of accessories as she tried to calm herself down. If she was honest with herself, this wasn’t the first time she had wanted to kiss Alya or felt like this around her. This time was just more intense. It was just normal stuff. Alya was really pretty. That was just a fact. Of course she would feel that way around her. It didn’t mean she was into girls or anything. Right?

Her thoughts were interrupted by Alya opening the curtain again. “Hey girl, are you okay?” She asked, raising an eyebrow at the way Marinette was gripping the edge of the table.

“I’m f-fine.” Her ears were red. It felt like when she first started talking to Adrien. This was stupid. Alya was her best friend. She was more comfortable around her than anyone else.

Alya shook her head, smiling. “Whatever weirdo. I’m totally going to get this dress, ‘cause it’s sexy. Do you want to look around to see if you want anything?”

“Sure,” Marinette agreed distractedly.

“Oh, these shoes! They are so you.” Alya squealed and held up a pair of pink heels with little bows on them.

They were super cute. “Oh, I like them.” Her nervousness was suddenly lessened as she admired the shoes. They were well made, and she checked the display for the price. Reasonable.

“Try them on,” Alya urged.

“Okay, but they’re pretty tall so I’ll probably fall on my face.” Suddenly she really didn’t want Alya to see her fall down.

“I believe in you,” Alya said, laughing.

Marinette felt her stomach flip at her encouragement and slipped her flats off. Leaning on the wall, she fit the heels on her feet. They weren’t as bad as she expected, but still rather wobbly. Or maybe that was just her shaky nervous legs.

“So cute.” Alya squealed. “How do they feel?”

Marinette took a step. “Definitely a little too --” Her second step landed wrong and her stomach dropped as she felt herself fall.

Strong, firm arms wrapped around her, steadying her. Marinette’s heart beat in her ears as she looked up at her best friend. As their eyes met she knew that label was no longer accurate to describe her feelings.

“You okay?” Alya asked with a giggle, a slight blush on her face. Marinette’s knees felt even weaker at the sound of her voice. There was no way she could deny it anymore.

She was in love with Alya.

[botwriter]

Rewritten, Chapter 26: Another Beginning

Wow wow wow wow it’s finally done. NSFW ahead. Thanks for all the love throughout this fic, guys. More to come. ❤

Read this on FF.net or Ao3  ➜

Ganon was roaring. Link was floating midair - Horse was below him, flaming after being hit by violet white fire, neighing in agony as he burned alive. Zelda was shining within Ganon, but her light was fading, and Link yelled her name but no sound came out as he watched the beast crunch down on her. As she disappeared, so too did Hyrule, until the world had been swallowed up in a blanket of darkness and Link was left falling into it, floating, floating, helplessly, in an abyss. A target lit on his chest, and far too quickly, a Guardian struck, drilling a hole into him, though Link felt no pain. The Master Sword left him, floating up into the air as Link lost his grip on the parasail, and free-fell downwards. No- no - no -

“No, no, no, Zelda - no -”

Reality hit Link like a ton of bricks. Zelda had her hands gripped tight on his shoulders, having shaken him awake; her face was etched with tears and fear, but she quickly sighed in relief and pulled him close, holding the back of his head and not letting go. Link didn’t realise until he pressed his cheek against her neck that he had been crying, and even as she held him, tears continued to escape through his eyelashes and paint trails down his chest and onto her shoulders.

“I’m here, Link. It’s okay. Everything is okay.”

Her voice was just a whisper in his ear, and she began to stroke the back of his head slowly, fingers drifting through his hair. Link let out a long breath as he relaxed, his heartbeat finally slowing. A breeze washed in from outside, warm even as autumn tightened its hold on Hyrule and the leaves begun to change colour. He tentatively pulled his arms around Zelda and gave her a grateful squeeze before pulling away, wiping at his cheeks with the back of his hand.

“Thanks. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she replied, shaking her head a little and then stifling a yawn. Link let out a weak laugh.

“I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

“It’s morning anyways,” she shrugged, and Link followed her gaze to the window where the sun had begun to rise, casting shadows through tree branches that danced against the tweed curtains. He still felt bad. It was too early to be awake after what they had gone through the day before.

“Where are we?” he asked suddenly, realising he didn’t recognize the wooden house they were in.

“An abandoned house in Hateno,” she said, almost apologetically. “It was so late by the time we got back last night, I didn’t have it in me to wake the innkeepers, but your horse brought us here.”

“How are you feeling, by the way? I made you a compress,” Zelda added, and Link was surprised to see embarrassment flush on her cheeks. He looked down at his chest, surprised to find himself stripped down to his underwear, with cold leaves and hyrule herb pressed against his wound. Gingerly, he peeled it away, only to find a faded scar beneath it.

“Wow, that really worked,” he said in surprise, removing the rest of the herbs and leaves.

“I’m glad,” Zelda said with a smile. Their eyes met, blue on green, and the realisation of how close they were lit a fire in Link’s chest. They leaned forward at the same time, slowly and then all at once, lips pressing together in a moment of desperate, long-awaited passion. Link felt all of his worries sink away at once, lifted his hand through Zelda’s blonde hair, cupped her cheek and pulled her closer. 

They lost their balance, falling backwards, but there was no time to slow down. Zelda sat atop him, still kissing him, as blankets fell to the floor and Link found himself unsure what to do with his hands. She was still wearing her prayer dress - it must have been the only clothing she had at the moment - and he found his hands playing with the edges, but wasn’t sure how far she wanted to go. Thankfully, Zelda answered for him, pulling the dress down and completely off of her body. Their lips were still locked together, but Link could feel her breasts resting against his chest as she readjusted, and could do nothing to stop the growing bulge at his groin.

“Zelda-” he mumbled against her lips, “what are you-”

“I want this,” she said suddenly, pulling away from him, her hair falling down on the side of her face and tickling Link’s cheeks as he stared back up at her. She was still blushing, but looked confident. “Do- do you?”

“Y-yeah,” Link stammered, and immediately she began kissing him again, her hands fumbling with his underwear before finally she managed to tug them off. He could feel her, completely naked, and the sensation was unlike anything he’d ever felt before; it was wet between her legs, warm and welcoming, and Link felt his mind go fuzzy as she rubbed against his shaft. Clearly she knew what she wanted, but she took hold of Link’s shoulders and flipped them sideways so he was on top of her, instead.

Their lips parted and he took a moment to stare at her, glowing in the autumn morning light.

He breathed her name and she gave him a small smile before bringing him close to her. He kissed her neck, her jawline, her collarbone, and she gasped and squirmed beneath him, a feeling Link savored before reaching down to explore her with his fingers.

“Link, I - want you.”

She didn’t have to say anything more. Link felt his heart alight with heat, and he positioned himself at her entrance, watching her carefully as he pushed in slowly and gently. It felt awkward at first, but after a few moments became easier and smoother. Zelda let out a moan, and Link could barely think cohesive thoughts anymore.

Zelda kept her eyes on him as he began to move, and Link moved down until their foreheads were pressed together. Her hands gripped at his shoulders as he thrust inside her, his body completely resigned to how good she felt. He held onto the corners of the bed, and Zelda gasped as he began to move deeper and faster, each movement feeling more natural than the last. It was complete bliss, but he knew not to let himself go entirely, lest it be too much for her; but still, their chests hot with passion and wanting, the two of them continued until Link felt he could go no longer.

His breath was short as he paused and looked at Zelda, urgency in his eyes. She only smiled at him, pulling him closer with her legs wrapped around his hips, and reached down to rub herself. Link felt his knees go weak.

“Are you sure I can -” his breath hitched as Zelda tightened around him - “in you?”

She nodded in response, pulling him back down with her arms and kissing him again. Link began moving faster, gripping at her shoulders and pushing deeper and harder than before. She gasped his name, nails raking down his back, and the sensations all at once pushed him over the edge. A breathy groan spilled from his lips as he came, thrusting a few final moments and then collapsing down, cock still throbbing occasionally within her.

“Wow,” he whispered, squeezing her tight and feeling her do the same back.

“That was amazing,” she whispered, letting out a happy sigh, and pressing her face into the crook of his neck.

“I love you,” he mumbled into her neck, and felt her hug him tighter in response.

“I love you, too.”

They were woken quite abruptly by the sound of men trying to demolish the house. A group of contractors, Bolson, Karson, and Hudson, were in charge of taking down the building since no one had forked up the rupees for it. When Link told them he would buy it, the price was steep, but he was willing to fork it over if it meant a safe place to stay. After all, the castle wasn’t fit for living in, not yet. They were happy to have a new project, and after spending a couple nights at the Hateno Inn, the house was ready, complete with furniture and a garden out front. It was all they needed, at least for now.

Days passed, slumbering, sleepy, messy, lazy. Both of them had to readjust completely. There had never been any time to process Ganon’s return, and now his defeat, and Link found himself staring out the window with his mind empty more than a few times. Living this sort of life - a normal life - felt bizarre. He had a bed every night. He wasn’t climbing mountains and fighting monsters constantly, could eat normal food, and… he had company, after so much time alone.

At first they did nothing but talk. They would stay up until nearly sunrise, catching up, telling stories, laughing, crying, making love, until they fell asleep in each other’s arms and slept until noon the next day. Rinse, repeat.

They both knew they had to get to work on fixing Hyrule. They could see it in each other’s eyes, hear it in the voices of the locals, even as they said “get some rest, it’s fine!” Because it wasn’t. Not yet. There was still much to do. Thankfully, Bolson and his crew had a job for them - help Hudson, another one of the builders, create a new town of his own, dubbed Tarrey Town, in Akkala province. He needed help putting it together, and Link and Zelda were more than willing to help. It also gave them good reason to adventure together, and in the process they met with the chiefs of each other land, reaffirming their promises and expectations for what was to come.

With the help of the three construction workers, they began to recruit more and more people to help build Castle Town and Hyrule Castle, as well. No one knew better than Link and Zelda that it would take time, and neither of them was willing to step up and lead Hyrule at the moment, though in general the people had already accepted Zelda as the commander-in-charge.

They spent most of their time split between Hyrule Castle and Hateno. It took years before Castle Town and Hyrule Castle looked legitimate, and even longer before they had found enough people to repopulate it. The end result was better than they could have expected - the city was filled with Goron, Rito, Zora, Gerudo, and Hylians. It quickly became the biggest and most diverse city in the land, and it was among a crowd of friends, old and new, that Zelda and Link held their wedding - and coronation.

Kapson, a Zora particularly passionate about weddings, took care of the official proceedings. The Zora was nearly jumping out of his scales at the idea of officiating the wedding for the new King and Queen, but the entire ordeal was not as fancy, or regal, as it may have been in the past. The couple spent their honeymoon in Lurelin Village, a quick but romantic five days on the beach before returning to work. There was much to be done, and it didn’t go without noticing that as they worked, blue and white flowers had begun to spring up all over Hyrule field. During the day, they sparkled among the golden fields, and at night they glowed, lighting the countryside in a soft blue light. Now and again, Zelda still found time to go out into the field for the purpose of studying different plants and creepy crawlies. Link found himself roped into heading the new knight training program.

Their new life didn’t come without challenges, but among all the troubles they faced, they always found solace in each other. Link and Zelda, King and Queen, were still each other’s best friends, through the rebuilding of Castle Town, raising their little girl - named Zelda, of course - and growing old together. Somehow, they knew - and the people of Hyrule knew - that they would always be together, and always be there to protect them, as they had in the past.

All was well.

[militzam]

Some people may just see this picture as a picture of a laptop and papers thrown inside of a car; however, to me I see it as my peaceful place. I turn this area into my little office between classes if I need to finish a last minute assignment away from people. My car is somewhere that I can be alone as well as a place where I feel comfortable. Sometimes I even put up the sun shader, and that mixed with my dark tints means no one can see inside. Here I can escape from any outside noises as well as people. When I’m in my car I can blast my music to correspond to my mood and just be in my own world so I can focus on writing or reading. The music that I typically play would be R&B because it allows me to concentrate better and it is also relaxing. In between the majority of my classes, I spend most of my time in my car finishing assignments for my next class. I choose to go to my car most days because I can recline back in my seat and adjust the AC to the temperature I feel is comfortable. I also enjoy being able to complete work in my car because I am able to park it where there is a nice scenery, for instance there is a park near my house with nice hills called Vista View Park, this is where I can listen to my music while enjoying the view and completing my assignments. Especially around the evening hours during sunset is when I the view is beautiful. Another scenery I can enjoy reading to is the beach. Parking with a view of the ocean and not being in the hot sun is perfect. Depending on the scenery I park my car in helps determine what work I’ll be doing or what I would be writing about. If it’s a rainy or gloomy day I would typically be reading meaningful sad topics while a beautiful scenery would lead to me reading or writing happy content.

This picture is on the second floor of the UC, I call this area “the cubicles”. This is currently where I’m doing this assignment and where I spend most mornings on my laptop because the UC is very empty and quick; perfect for me to complete work. These cubicles are where I can just relax and do my work and it is also a spot for people to take naps. Although I have not personally taken a nap here yet I've seen several people push the two cushions together and nap. This area is hard to find spaces to sit in due to the fact there are only fours cubicles, so when I see an open one I am quick to grab it.

This is the Flight Decks backyard located on the NSU campus. I mainly come here on Wednesday or Friday’s because that’s when I have the most time in between classes. I am here from 11am-3pm most days and I really enjoy sitting under the canopy because it is shaded and protects you from the sun's rays. Most people believe that it would be too hot to work outside but surprisingly between the fans and the shade it is relaxing and refreshing. When I am sitting out here I get happy vibes; therefore, I would be doing assignments I enjoy such as writing in my journal for my UNIV class, or doing little cute doodles. There is always the NSU radio playing music on the speakers and it helps to create a good mood.

My bedroom is definitely my number one comfort space. I love lights and although I do not do my work under purple lighting, this is my favorite color to have it on because it matches my room. I also have the curtain lights which add some more “aesthetic” to my room, hence the sticker added on the photo of the textbook. When I'm in my room doing work I typically light a candle turn on the LED strip light to a white light, sit up on my bed and get started.