#blossom tangents

[chiefblossom]

absolutely LOVE going to Waterstones and picking up a book without doing any research other than reading the first chapter

if I fw the writing then automatically it's a good book it's how i find my favourites!!

Currently is 'Confessions of an Antichrist' by Marta Skadi, I'm about halfway through and it's SO GOOD. a lot of swearing, mature themes but it's about a black metal band trying to take over the world 4/5 would recommend!!

[kingcrxwn]

i am Thinking... about the horsemen as i usually do.

have a sketch of death’s emblem!

[trulyhblue]

Could you possibly do a Grace Clinton x Reader please based on what Alessia mentioned on her podcast about Grace being a big hugger and like a sloth ! x also love your work ❤️

Just A Hugger

Grace Clinton x Lioness! Reader

Warnings: fluff, secret but established relationship, very short!

______________________

You were sitting on one of the bean bags for the first time all camp, snuggled under an array of blankets, cuddling your phone as you stared up at the TV in front of you. The room was dark, holding refuge to more than a dozen tired athletes, all clad in their sponsored trackies and hoodies. You were among the handful that had been able to snag a bean bag before they were all full.

Alessia and Ella shared one beside you, and Niamh and Lotte planted theirs together in order to create one combined. On the lounges behind you, many of the girls lay across one another, sluggish in their endeavours to soak up some team bonding while also maintaining the silence. Beth had made you a hot chocolate, and Esme had picked the movie, which was of no complaint to anyone, considering the City girl always seemed to know best. You could hear Lauren muttering about her latest Lego creation to LJ, who was somewhat endorsed by the topic of conversation, yet scrolled aimlessly on her phone as she hummed along in agreement, since Hempo’s tangents often let on for prolonged periods.

Your feet peeked out from under the blankets, your fluffy pink socks matching with your girlfriend, who was nowhere to be seen. There was a quiet hum of chatter as the movie played, and everyone was content with the mixture as it was the first time anyone had really gotten to bond with another teammate outside of training.

The euro qualifiers were tough, and your fresh arrival to the team made it even more difficult to mould into a routine. In such high stake games, you certainly weren't looking for any significant game time, but you were a halftime sub during England’s campaign against Sweden, and you were hopeful of getting the same minutes this time against France.

You were younger than most of the girls but had been around professional football for long enough to have known them all for quite some time. You made your debut at United only a few years ago before playing for City in the Youth groups. There you met the likes of Mary, Katie and Ella, who were the first Lionesses that you had truly gotten to know. You had eventually met Grace when she came from Bristol to United, and from then, you were both sent on loan to Tottenham, where your friendship blossomed into a North London Treasure. Fans are no longer sure Grace is a United player, but their NLD golden girl. You were born and raised Manchester-bound, and you were not prepared to face the fact that you were slowly becoming among the faces of Tottenham’s affiliates. It took you a while to process the hurt that came with your loan, and at some points, you envied how quickly Grace fit in with your teammates and the game they played. But you soon moulded well as a striker, especially as your relationship with Grace consumed your everyday life.

You had moved in together as friends and slowly found your deep feelings for her embedded into your heart. The hugs during celebrations, and the post-match interviews matched with longing stares and soft compliments. Fans jumped to the joyride of how calm and collected the two of you held yourselves, especially as a duo in the games. Grace was always helping you up after badly set tackles, and you pushed her away from unnecessary quarrels with opponents. The media would pick up on the assists Grace would give you, and the spectacular goals that came as a result of your chemistry. There weren't any other two players that had this sort of combination together, and clubs were quick to realise that if they wanted one of you, the other was instantly included.

It was only half way through the season when the two of you got together. It was after your win against Arsenal, and the celebrations mixed with alcohol were quick to loosen your tongue. It was a well-kept secret between you two, except your two best friends Charli and Celine had caught on about your feelings long before you had even gotten together. The media were just enamoured by your friendship with Grace. The fans adored the affection you showed each other. There was inevitable shipping rumours, but they never held much significance.

While you liked the privacy of your relationship, Grace wanted to make it known that you were hers. It wasn't like you kept it discreet. You had shown each other the same amount of PDA before you made it official, so there was minimal change when it came to the way you interacted with each other, save for the heavy affection shown in the showers after a match, away from prying eyes. However, Grace had found herself falling more protective of you. If someone had made a false tackle on you, she’d be all over it before you had even hit the ground. It was an anger that had never presented itself beforehand, but it was sure to unleash the second you winced into the grass.

You were very reserved on the pitch. There wasn't much you got up to, and your card count was very low. Grace was much more vicious, but held accountability when it was due.

Everyone just thought that it was the end-of-season drama, where teams were making last-second challenges that would aim to help their position on the ladder.

Now, as both of your loans with Tottenham were soon to be over, Grace and you had not only made yourselves comfortable in the London atmosphere but had created special bonds with the likes of Celine with Grace and you with Charli, which made the return back a little difficult to face. You were both extremely valuable to each team, and there had been an inexplicable improvement that United wanted a piece of, though Tottenham wanted to keep. You were conflicted with the history of your home, and the alliance of your new life, which added to the stress of debuting with the England Senior Team.

You felt a familiar figure crouch beside you, placing another layer of soft blanket over your figure. With a soft kiss on your forehead, you snuggled up to Grace’s side, immediately cradling her waist with your arms, engulfing her chest with your head, and listening to her steady heartbeat.

“God, you're so warm.” She muttered, pulling your thigh over her leg, letting your weight lean against her. You let out a silent laugh as Grace wrapped her arms around your shoulders, running her hand through the nape of your hair, playing with the loose strands.

You peered down at her feet, feeling the familiar fabric of your matching socks. “Where have you been?”

Grace tucked you into her chest further, breathing in your scent as she sighed. “Talking to Sarina. She wanted to see what I was doing with Tottenham?”

You looked up, carefully calculating the mood on your girlfriend's face. “What about it?”

“Just whether we— whether I was staying.”

“What did you say?”

“I told her I’d have to ask you.” Grace glanced down at you, smiling at the crease between your eyebrows. She pecked your nose, tracing your features subtly. “She said that she could see that we were dating from a mile away.”

You scoffed at that. “Bet she did.”

None of your national teammates mentioned anything, though some of the senior girls had caught on quite quickly that something had changed since the last time they had seen you in Manchester. Ella, who was usually the slowest had walked in on you two that very morning, yelping and whining over breakfast, making your face go red with embarrassment and Grace shoving Tooney over to Lessi, who, inevitably, now knows.

You had told Beth and Leah that you two had gotten close while partnered together at training. Leah had told you it was obvious, and Beth had given you a big hug before listing things she and Viv did to keep their relationship a secret before it got out.

Grace had told Mary, who told Millie, who told Rach, and soon enough pretty much everyone who cared had found out over the course of a day. They were quick to subtly congratulate you, but the attention had died down by the time dinner had past and you all were watching the somewhat indulging film Esme had put on.

You weren't keeping your relationship a secret, but neither of you found a point in letting it known. If someone asked, you’d tell them. Both of you were waiting for the media to catch on, but until then, you were content with the quietness of it all.

“I’ll go wherever you go, you know that?” Grace muttered, placing soft kisses down the coloum of your neck. You pressed your figure closer to her, sighing when her hands ran against your sides.

You held out your hand to grab hers, tracing the ridges in her knuckles. “What do you think? Tottenham or United?”

“I don't care, baby.” She spoke, peeking up from where her face hovered above your collarbone. “I would warm the bench if it meant I was with you.”

You laughed into the blankets, nudging your face into her neck. “You're a sweet talker, Clinton.”

Grace didn't deny the statement, smirking down at your cosy position against her. She wouldn't trade you for any contract offer in the world. No amount of money or years of playing football could equate to holding you in her arms.

______________

yourusername

Liked by Graceclinton, Leahwilliamson, and 98,367 others

tagged — graceclinton, alessiarusso, ellatoone

yourusername — training and socks 🧦🎀

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Comments:

user78 — if they are not in love then idk what love is

lionesses — pretty in pink! 💕

graceclinton — I love the way you look at me

graceclinton — feet on feet 🤢

^ yourusername — you love it 😙

wosofan — THE WAY THEY LOOK AT EACH OTHER I CAN NOT DO THIS THEY R SO CUTE

alessia — 😍

* liked by creator

user17 — im dreading the time their loan at Tottenham ends.

^ user67 — what if one of them stays at Tottenham and the other stays at United?

^ user66 — I will become violent if this happens

^ user16 — both teams will want them both. I doubt this will happen

charlottegrant — my little koala 🐨

^ yourusername — miss you char char 😣

ellatoone — less and I third wheeling

^ alessia — you’ll live tooney

^ graceclinton — double date?

^ user62 — Y/N AND GRACE CONFIRMED???????

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[catnipaddictt]

Hi, can you please write about scott barringer? Like how he would act as a boyfriend. Thank uu

scott barringer x gn!reader

wc: 1.5k

tw: Scott is a jerk in the beginning, enemies to friends to lovers (kind of) mentions of Scott's past (sa), mentions of kissing

comment: Hey! thanks for the request. Not sure about the layout of this one and I kinda fell like I went off on a tangent so bear with me. <3

𝜗𝜚⋆ At first Scott was so mean to you. He would call you names and pull your hair when you were looking off into the forest instead of listening to the Horizon teachers. He was a jerk to everyone but more so you. You seemed to be the laughing stock of all his jokes and constantly laughed about by him every chance he got. The other students didn't really catch on that he was always picking on you, even when you complained to them about him. They would always respond with ‘he is like this to everyone’ or ‘just ignore him, he doesn't mean it.’ 

𝜗𝜚⋆ As time progressed and the comments towards you continued, you slowly became more angered by Scotts behavior. Eventually you snap at him, going off about the way he treats you. He is stunned by your outburst, unaware that his remarks truly bugged you. After you snapped at him, he laid off the jokes and teasing. You two don't really speak much, only when you are forced to by the leaders. 

𝜗𝜚⋆ Eventually you two are peered up for a camping trip and are forced to be together by yourselves for a few days. It pours with rain the whole time and you are forced to spend most of the time trapped inside a tent with Scott. After an hour of silence you both can't take it anymore and go to speak at the same time. Before stopping and trying to hide your laughter from each other. You both end up talking and you are shocked to find that Scott can actually be a decent guy.

𝜗𝜚⋆ After the camping trip you two become friends, well after Scott profusely apologizes for how he treated you in the past. You find that he tends to hide his true feelings behind jokes and mean comments, part of the reason he was so cruel to you. 

𝜗𝜚⋆ Your crush on Scott is unexpected and frankly unwanted at the start. Sure you like Scott, but now you liked him. It was slowly eating you up from the inside. You couldn't help the butterflies that would churn in your stomach when you were with him.

𝜗𝜚⋆ You and Scott do grow closer over the months you are at Horizon, much to the surprise of the camp leaders and your peers. They didn't really see Scott as capable of actually getting along with someone. He did still tease you, but in a joking manner rather than to hurt your feelings. The two of you began sneaking out to the docks at nightfall and eating your meals together. Your feelings towards him blossomed, and you could hardly stand the thoughts you would have about him.

𝜗𝜚⋆ It was much to your surprise when one night when you were sitting shoulder to shoulder, legs dangling off the wooden lake dock, he admitted that he thought of you as more than a friend. Before you could answer him, and tell him you felt the same, he shot up from next to you and walked away quickly. You tried to catch up with him, but when you went to grab his arm, he pulled away angrily. Scott yelled at you to leave him alone and stormed off back to camp. You were confused by his sudden change in demeanor. One minute he was opening up to you, the next he was shutting down and running away. 

𝜗𝜚⋆ The next week was torture. Scott avoided you like the plague. Everytime you would try to talk to him, he would shake his head and escape, grumbling off to his bunk room. Eventually you caught him alone, over a week after his confession. It was late afternoon and you were both tasked with getting more firewood from outside to keep the cabins warm. Scott walked off in front of you, hands in the pockets of his jacket. The firewood was located outside the shed which held all the outdoors equipment, pushed off to the side of the main camp. The sun was falling behind the trees as you reached the pile of wood, Scott inspected the stack for the driest pieces. You couldn't stop your mouth from opening now that you two were alone; “I feel the same way.” The words tumbled out of you and you watched as Scott stiffened at your statement. “What?” He turned around to face you, wood in his arms. “I like you too Scott, more than a friend” you cringed mentally at your words, it felt like something out of a cheesy film but you didn't know how else to say it. “No you don't” was his reply, “you are just saying that to make me feel like a jerk.” Scott was clearly defensive about the subject but you repeated your confession. “I'm not lying Scott, I like you and, well, I thought you liked me too, at least before the docks last week.” Scott's tone was skeptical, “actually?” He questioned. “Actually” you confirm. The tension seemed to drop from his shoulders at your confirmation, “okay.” 

𝜗𝜚⋆ Your and Scott's new relationship was tricky at first. You were both nervous, something that surprised you as it was common knowledge around camp that he had a thing with both Juliette and Shelby in the past. That didn't deter you though, and slowly you both began to open up more to each other. Scott was clearly affected by his stepmother's actions - something he had told you about one evening. You had cried for him, and by the end of the conversation you your both puffy-eyed.

𝜗𝜚⋆ The rumors about Scott and your closeness began to circulate after a few weeks, and you were questioned multiple times by multiple different people. You didn't deny or confirm the nature of your relationship with the blonde, instead you would shrug them off. Eventually you and Scott were caught kissing behind the boat shed by Auggie and the secret was out. You didn't mind that the other students knew, you were more worried about Peter and the other teachers finding out that relationships were strictly not allowed. 

𝜗𝜚⋆ Scott always went to you when he was feeling out if it, you were his person and always willing to listen. He appreciated your input even if he didn't tell you he did. His trust in you grew with each passing day and he felt lucky that you were by his side. When you were sitting though lessons or on one of Peter's outdoor adventures, he would wrap his pinky around yours or bump his shoulder against yours. He always wanted to be touching you in some way, he liked knowing that you were there with him. You obviously didn't complain about his wandering hands and eyes burning into the back of your neck at all times.

𝜗𝜚⋆ Scott was a good boyfriend. He would check in on you at the end of each day and make sure you were doing okay. He wanted you to get better, just as much as he wanted himself too. That wasn't to say that he didn't have bad days. Sometimes he would be moody and down, and wanted a bit of alone time. But other times he wanted nothing more than for you to be beside him and to hear you laugh at a joke he told. 

𝜗𝜚⋆ There were always flowers and shiny rocks finding themselves onto the little bedside table in your bunk. If you asked Scott about it, he would absolutely deny that it was time. However you had caught him picking up pebbles by the river that made their way to you in the coming days. They were small tokens of his gratitude and caring for you. He just wanted you to have all the prettiest things he could find, well at least at a rehabilitation school.

𝜗𝜚⋆ When the weather was nice outside, you would throw one of the footballs for him. You liked seeing him happy and if chucking a ball over and over again made him smile, you were not going to say no. Scott loved to tell you about all the games he played before horizon. He would recount all the times he won a game or how he scored. He would light up when he talked about football so you didn't stop him. Scott told you about all his favorite players and would draw out on a piece of paper how the games went. It felt like he knew every game ever played like the back of his own hand. 

𝜗𝜚⋆ When the nights were warm, you two you sneak back down to the docks and sit in a comfortable silence. Your head would rest against his shoulder. You didn't want to think about what would happen when one of you left this place, but in your mind you always wander. Every time you voiced your worry, Scott would shut you down and tell you that he wouldn't stop seeing you. He promised that he would send a letter every week and phone you every day after school. There was no stopping him, he was determined to have you forever.

 𝜗𝜚⋆ Scott was 100% the best thing to have happened to you in a long time. You weren't sure what you would do without him tucked into the crook of your neck or fall asleep as you ran your fingers through his hair. All you knew was that you liked him a lot, and there was no way either of you were getting rid of the other any time soon.

Taglist: @qvnthesia @anisscarletstarlet @inneedsoffanfics @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist @anakinstwinklebunny @deathst9rs

lmk if you want to be added or removed from the taglist <3

[shebunie]

What if reader had a little too much sake and Mizu has to take care of them and reader goes on a tangent about how beautiful they are and how much they love her. It’s silly but I think it can be so sweet to see mizu loved like that!

𝐒𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬

𝗠𝗶𝘇𝘂 𝘅 𝗗𝗿𝘂𝗻𝗸!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝗺𝘂𝘁𝘂𝗮𝗹 𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗮𝗹𝗰𝗼𝗵𝗼𝗹 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘁𝘁𝘆 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗶𝘁- 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝗮𝘁 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟵𝟯𝟳 𝐀/𝐍: 𝗜 𝗺𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗶𝗻𝗱𝘂𝗹𝗴𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗮 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮 𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗮𝗺𝘆 𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻 𝗰𝘂𝘇 𝗜'𝗺 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗱𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗯𝗮𝗱

“y’know wha- i’ve alway thought you were th’prettiest person around.” you slurred. Mizu raised a skeptical eyebrow, a rare crack in her usual stoic demeanour. The dimly lit room seemed to shimmer a bit as the effects of the sake intensified for you. With an awkward stumble, you attempted to express your admiration more coherently.

Mizu couldn't deny the warmth that blossomed in her chest, touched by your tipsy admiration. “You're like a beautiful flower. A flower in a world of... water,” you stumbled over your words, your enthusiasm evident despite the alcohol-induced haze.

"Eyes, like a calm lake under the moonlight, dark hair, like the night sky. A masterpiece, Mizu," you declared with a tipsy grin.

Mizu sighed, torn between irritation and a subtle hint of amusement. She found herself caught in a situation she never anticipated – nursing a drunk companion who seemed determined to shower her with affection. As you continued your heartfelt monologue, she couldn't help but notice the sincerity behind your words.

"I never knew you had a poetic side," Mizu remarked, her eyes softening just a fraction. "But you need to sober up. That’s enough for tonight.”

Undeterred, you clumsily reached out, attempting to cup her face with unsteady hands. "No, no,  stay with me please."

Mizu's stony facade wavered for a moment as she gently pushed your hands away. "You're not in your right mind. Drink some water," she suggested, trying to redirect the conversation.

But you persisted, your intoxicated enthusiasm unwavering. "Water won't change how I feel about you." Mizu, accustomed to being the strong and silent type, found herself caught off guard by your declarations. She guided you towards a glass of water, a subtle rosiness tinted her normally composed expression.

As you rambled on about love and beauty, Mizu discovered that even the most stone-cold hearts could be stirred by unexpected warmth. Between your slurred words and giggles, she discovered a deeper connection, one that went beyond the usual interactions.

The first light of dawn painted the room in soft hues, Mizu settled you into a makeshift bed, tucking you in with a care that contradicted her usual tough exterior. "Sleep it off. We can talk about this when you're sober," Mizu whispered, her fingers brushing through your hair. 

The vulnerability at that moment was a shared secret, a bridge between two souls who had unexpectedly found solace amid intoxication. Eventually, as the effects of the alcohol began to wear off, you drifted into a peaceful slumber, leaving Mizu to reflect on the whimsical and endearing moments of the night. 

Sitting beside your peacefully sleeping form, Mizu's eyes traced the details of your flushed face. She found herself captivated by the vulnerability in your slumber, the chaotic charm that had surfaced in your intoxicated state. For a moment, her stoic demeanour wavered as a faint smile played on her lips.

Gazing down at your exposed shoulder, Mizu felt a strange mix of emotions. She raised an arm to adjust your clothing to keep your decency. Until a hand grasped hers, Mizu froze, your fingers gently closed around hers. The warmth of your touch sent a subtle shiver down her spine, and for a moment, she hesitated. Her stoic façade wavered as she met your gaze, searching for any sign that your mumbled words held a deeper meaning.

A soft smile played on your lips as you stirred, your eyes half-lidded and filled with a mixture of vulnerability and sincerity. "I love you so much, you'll stay with me right?" you repeated, the question carrying an unexpected weight.

Mizu's blue eyes, usually as serene as a still pond, betrayed a flicker of uncertainty. She considered the unspoken implications of your words, the subtle shift in the air that seemed to hold the promise of something more intimate.

A moment of silence lingered between you, the room bathed in the soft hues of dawn. Then, Mizu nodded, her fingers gently intertwining with yours. "I'll stay," she replied, her voice a whispered assurance that held a depth beyond the surface.

As you settled back into a peaceful slumber, Mizu remained seated by your side. The room, once filled with the remnants of drunken revelry, now transformed into a sanctuary of quiet intimacy. The dawn light painted soft patterns on the walls, casting a warm glow on both of you.

Mizu found herself studying the contours of your face with a newfound tenderness. The lines that had surfaced in your sleep added a layer of authenticity to the moment. It was as if the sake-induced confessions had paved the way for a connection that transcended the usual boundaries.

Unspoken emotions lingered in the air, and Mizu couldn't help but acknowledge the subtle shift in the dynamic. The touch of your hand had breached the walls she had carefully erected, inviting a closeness that went beyond the camaraderie.

In the quiet intimacy of that morning, Mizu realized that sometimes, unexpected moments held the power to rewrite the scripts of our lives. As the sun rose higher in the sky, casting a warm embrace over the room, Mizu committed herself to staying by your side, not just in the aftermath of a drunk night but in the unfolding chapters of a story that seemed destined to be written in shared glances, whispered words, and the gentle entwining of fingers.

[lacedinweb22]

Seven Minutes in Heaven ♱☽🦇☾♱

Miguel O'Hara x reader ♱ (A Halloween special) Vampire Next Door (ch.7) prev part nsfw 18+

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

There’s a knock at your door. You fix your hair in the mirror then rush to leave.

There he is,

dressed up as a vampire.

He’s wearing a beautiful vintage, tailored suit. His waves are tamed back. He has a bit of fake blood dripping from his bottom lip to his jaw then down to his neck. He really committed to the part. 

You discussed costume ideas a few days before the party. You came up with the idea of dressing up as gothic style vampires; you’d been watching vampire romances all week, though you left that part out. Miguel was hesitant at first, said it would be too flashy, but after you showed him your pinterest board, and some whining and convincing, he agreed.

You’ve got the look down: a long, black vintage dress, fake blood around your lips, chin, and down your arms, jewelry adorning your collarbones, and fangs you’ve glued onto your canines.

Your dress hugs you in all the right places. Your bust is bursting, practically spilling out of the bodice. It accentuates your curves, tightly hugging your waist and hips. You look and you feel the best you’ve felt in a really long time.

Seeing Miguel like this, at your door, makes the butterflies in your stomach go wild. You never thought he’d see you like this, so grown up, blossomed, and beautiful. And you never thought you’d see him like this. 

Your eyes meet, then part, as they explore each other’s figures. He quickly looks back up, keeping a straight face, like he didn’t just gulp at the sight of your curves.

“This hot vamp look really suits you.”

“Hot?”

He furrows his brows and smiles, exposing his fangs, as he slides a hand over his waves.

“Wait, your fangs… I’m impressed.”

“A vampire needs a good pair of fangs. I’m not an idiot.” 

“I’m learning that…” you mutter looking him up and down.

****

Miguel introduces you to your floor neighbors, in a way that makes you feel like you're his. You look like you belong to each other, but you push those thoughts away. He was kind enough to welcome you and introduce you to his friends. You’re neighbors. Friendly neighbors. 

Your neighbors welcome you, you have multiple small-talk conversations, and most of them ask how you know Miguel. You both say you’re neighbors who’ve just met a few days ago. You’re both liars.

Alicia, the host of the party, calls him out for not attending more of their get-togethers, and he promises he’ll come out more often, as he turns to look at you. 

You all start the night off with one shot of tequila then disperse through her apartment. 

You and Alicia click, as Miguel stands by sipping at a mixed something, listening, and secretly laughing at your tangents. 

After a bit, you both end up alone at the kitchen counter. 

“I think I want to drink a lot tonight. I need it.”

He nods slowly, trying to read your face as he sips his drink. 

“If that’s what you want, okay. I’ll drink with you.” 

He pours you another shot. You cheers then both down it. You wince at the aftertaste, then look up at an unfazed Miguel. 

The music progressively gets louder as the apartment becomes more full. You move to the rhythm, barely dancing, not drunk enough to let him witness it. Miguel smiles, sipping at his drink, leaning against the counter. 

“You know what? You’re like four times my size. You’re going to need to drink four times what I drink to feel anything,” you slur, clinging onto his wrist for balance. 

“Mhmm, okay,” he chuckles, looking down at your hand on his wrist. You’re too tipsy to pull away. His warm skin feels too good, you feel glued to him. He smiles, pouring two more shots into a red cup. 

He drinks, lifting his chin up, his jawline advertised as he swallows the hard liquor. 

“It’s been thirty minutes. I want another.” You slide your shot glass to him.

He grabs the liter of strawberry soda on the counter and starts to pour it into a red cup.

“This should help with the taste.”

He adds a shot into the soda.

“So kind, such a gentleman,” you slur, taking the drink from his hand. 

“Truth or dare!” one of your neighbors yell. Everyone gathers, drunk and stumbling to sit on the floor and on the couch, forming a circle in the living room.

After half of the circle takes their turn, it’s your turn.

“Truth or dare,” Alicia asks you. 

“Dare.”

“I dare you to play seven minutes in heaven with Miguel,” she shrugs.

“Seven minutes– Is this fucking high school?” Miguel mutters rolling his eyes.

“Okay, Y/N, sorry. You’re going to have to take another shot.”

You’re fucked up. Another shot is going to destroy you. 

“Shut up, okay? Mierda. Come on, Y/N,” he mutters as he stands up. He reaches both hands down to you, then helps you up. You stumble, as he grabs your hand and leads you to the closet down the hallway.

You both enter the closet; Miguel leaves the door open a crack, allowing the purple light to illuminate the side of his face. The speakers begin to blast music again in the living room. It bleeds into the dark closet. 

You laugh at how drunk you are, and at the situation, then look up at Miguel. His concern is obvious, but it fades a bit when your eyes meet. 

“I was too sober to say it earlier, but you look… divine,” he confesses.

“Wow, that’s… you can’t do that to me. Not now,” you laugh, looking down, shaking your head. You avoid eye contact.

You’ve dreamt about moments like this since university. About being this close to him, about him saying romantic things like this, but you’re drunk, and you don’t believe him. 

“I mean it,” he adds, leaning down to catch your eyes. 

“You look really good too. So handsome,” you breathe out. You cover your eyes. That took a lot. 

“Yeah? You think I’m handsome?” he asks, drawing closer. 

He gently pulls your hands off of your face.

You look up at him.

His cheeks are pink, flushed from the alcohol, his hair is less tame than it was when you got here, and his crimson eyes are radiant, even in the dark.

“Miguel,” you exhale.

“Y/N,” he says, smoothly, deep, pretty on his tongue.

You grasp onto his suit jacket, pulling him into you. 

He strokes your cheek, then combs his fingers through your hair, pushing it out of your face. 

You stare into each other’s eyes, then his eyes wander down to your lips. 

You tilt your face up and he leans down.

You kiss. 

It’s heated, drunk, wet, and addictive.

It intensifies as he slowly presses you up against the wall, your lips still glued to each other. 

His lips detach, his kisses trailing down to your neck.

“Y/N,” he breathes against your skin. 

“I know you remember me,” he mutters into your neck.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“English 150A. I know you remember.”

“I didn’t realize you did.” 

“You’re hard to forget.”

You pull him back in for a kiss, shutting him up. It’s drunk and passionate. Your cheeks burn hot.

His fangs are razor-sharp; you’re too drunk to realize when they cause you pain.

You pull away, then reach your hand up to his lips.

“Can I?” 

He obeys, looking down at you with drowsy eyes. 

You stroke his fangs. They’re hyper realistic. If you applied a bit more pressure, they would puncture the tip of your finger. 

“Why are they so sharp? Mine aren’t that sharp. Where did you get them?”

“Doesn’t matter. They were expensive though,” he shrugs, allowing you to continue touching his lips with your thumb.

“Miguel, these could actually cut me.” 

You reach back to his fangs, before he gently pulls your hand away.

“Here, I’ll do it,” 

He grazes his own fingertip on his fang, drawing blood.

“Miguel, stop,” you squeal, yanking his hand away from his mouth. 

He laughs, showing you the blood. He’s too drunk to read the concern on your face and you’re too drunk to realize it’s not that serious.

“It’s like a paper cut, Y/N,” he reasons, sucking the blood off his finger. 

“You’re annoying. I’m not staying here and entertaining this.” You reach for the closet door. He grabs your wrist. You turn to look up at him. 

“Come on, Boots, I was just showing you,” 

“What? What did you just call me?”  

“Boots. You wore those red rain boots that week of the storm. I thought they were cute, and it just stuck with me,” he says, shrugging it off.

“You really do remember me. Okay, we’re doing this… wait, you’re a science boy, what were you doing TA-ing for an English course?” 

“Hm yeah, it was a favor for Professor Reyes,” 

“Favor for what?”

“I’m too drunk to talk about this right now,” he groans, throwing his head back.

“Okay,” you nod, leaning only your back against the wall.

He looks up at you, then slowly approaches you. 

“We still have like four minutes left,” you sigh.

“Four minutes. I can work with that,” he smirks, towering over you.

Then he’s kissing you, hands on your waist, holding you against his body. Again, he’s pressing you up against the wall. 

His leg is in between your legs, as you lean back. 

You squeeze his tricep, encouraging the pressure he’s applying all over you.

“You’re so warm, and god, you’re so beautiful,” he grumbles into your lips.

You feel it, something pressing into your thigh, against your dress. 

The butterflies in your stomach intensify. You feel hot all over. You’re drunk and you want him and he’s right here and he wants you too.

“I want you,” you moan into his mouth. 

“Yeah?” he whispers, trailing his lips down to your neck, sucking gently. 

“Harder,” you encourage, enjoying yourself a little too much. 

You comb your fingers through his hair, gripping tightly.

He squeezes your thigh, holding you tight against his leg. 

He sucks harder; you feel his fangs brush against your skin.

You moan, pulling his hips into yours. He grips your waist tighter. If you weren’t wearing this dress, his fingerprints would be bruised into you. He hangs his head on your shoulder, quietly moaning into your skin, before bruising you again.

He restrains himself. 

“Now bite me,” 

He pulls his face from your neck.

“Y/N,” he says, head tilted, face drowsy, hair tousled. 

“It’s gonna hurt,” he shakes his head, his eyes glued to your lips.

You pull him down for a kiss. 

The music stops. 

“Seven minutes up!” they yell, clapping. 

You pull away from each other. You try to catch your breath.

You fix your hair, bring it forward to cover your neck, wipe around your lips, and look up at Miguel, who’s brushing his hair back and straightening out his suit. 

You walk out of the closet and join the circle once again. 

“How were the seven minutes? How was the sex?” they tease.

“We just talked,” you slur, shrugging, suppressing your smile.

“Miguel?” they press on.

“We just talked. You heard her,” he defends, eyebrows furrowed at their doubt.

They move on to their next victim. 

You turn to each other. Your eyes meet then break. 

The night goes on. 

⋆♱✮☽🎃☾✮♰⋆

Happy Halloween 🧛🏼‍♀️

-G ⋆୨୧˚

ch.8 here

[toorumlk]

Hi I'm so freaking obsessed with your twitter.

Also what's your favorite Romione moment in the books and why?

ohohoho thank you, friend, i’m quite proud of some of the stuff i’ve posted on there B)

and as for my favourite romione moment in the books, when i read the question i first blanked out for a couple minutes, thinking of a bunch of smaller, sillier scenes. but then i remembered that i do have a favourite and it’s from chapter 11 of DH, when remus visited the trio at grimmauld place and filled them in on he goings on of the war -including the implementation of the muggle-born registry. ron’s response upon hearing this (after his immediate outrage) was

and it’s not just the hand holding and the “‘you won’t have a choice’ said Ron fiercely” that played out so vividly in my head like this:

but this scene demonstrates so perfectly the political weight of this pairing (muggleborn/blood traitor) which i think is the immovable narrative foundation of romione. all of their silly moments and idiosyncrasies aside, there is genuine narrative purpose behind this love. ron has always had an astute understanding of the blood supremacist politics of the wizarding world (need i remind that he was ready to curse shitco at the ripe age of 12 for calling hermione the in-universe slur) and just how wrong it is. ron is a pure-blood wizard and by design has so much privilege in this society bc of it, but by virtue of having parents like arthur and molly, he’s grown up knowing the importance of fighting against blood supremacist ideology. always.

so, after hearing about the completely horrifying muggleborn registry ("People won't let this happen," said Ron. "It is happening, Ron," said Lupin.), he immediately turns to his muggleborn best friend and love of his life and says “i’m making you a family member, i’m going to use the protection my family-name has and use it to protect you from the awful injustice of our situation, no you won’t have a choice but to let me help you”

i remember having such a… visceral reaction while reading this scene like holy shit .. these kids, THESE KIDS!!!!! this is the bone-marrow-deep love that makes me feel insane. this dynamic of the blood traitor/muggleborn always there, from CoS all the way to the epilogue. We get to see that romione is the story’s pure blood/muggleborn that finally made it (rip jily and tedromeda :(). we see it in hermione keeping her muggle last name after they get married (oh my god these two actually got married) and we also see it in the hyphenated Granger-Weasley (granger being first!) in their kids’ last names (oh my gof these two had TWO kids). they are a true symbol of change and progress in their world.

also this is one of those moments where i’m so glad that our only window to romiones relationship development is through harry’s narration because it so brilliantly shows the readers this blossoming love story instead of just telling us about it because harry obviously doesn’t have access to the inner thoughts of his two best friends, he can only witness them fall deeper in love. showing the audience acts of love is always more powerful and my god is this an act of showing your love to your beloved.

(and not to go on an unrelated tangent, but this is exactly why i could never ship my girl hermione w any DE or DE-adjacent character. no fucking way. not when the concept of a muggle-born registry exists in this universe, not when the antagonists in this story wish to eradicate people like her from their society. idk about the rest of y’all but im going to keep taking the narrative seriously bc the worldbuilding obviously has real world ties/implications and i like engaging with the canon. tangently to the tangent, i saw someone (a ron basher) on twitter say that ron, OUR RON FROM THE ABOVE EXCERPT, was “one bad day away from becoming a death eater” ohhhh ohhh i ought to beat you with sticks bc HUH? this is the same kid who said he would’ve boarded the train back to kings cross if he got sorted to slytherin, the house notorious for birthing DEs, at the tender age of 11)

anyways, all this to say is that romione is incredibly, realistically, materially romantic and i love them and i love their love <3

[perfectlyoongi]

PAWNS IN THE COSMOS

ㅤ↬┊synopsis ... namjoon was in love with you since the first day he saw you, but letting your magic paralize him, he never had the courage to admit it to you – that is, until he found out that you were his soulmate.

ㅤ⚘.fandom ... bts. ㅤㅤಇ.ft. ... namjoon x gn!reader. ㅤ⚘.genre ... long-shot. ㅤㅤಇ.content ... soulmate!au, college!au, fluff, angst, using of they/them prns for reader at the start. ㅤㅤಇ.word count ... 5.1k. ㅤ⚘.cole's note ... i originally wrote this for bts but posted for jjk but i regretted it so heres the original post <3 i hope u like it ♡

How is a person defined?

Of course we can delve into personality tangents and unique character traits that only each of us possesses in a perfect combination of stars and magic. However, this alone is not enough. A person is created by more than mere looks and personality; there are dreams, each person’s own ways, unique hearts that shine with specific colors conceived by each thought, each action, each desire.

A single personality is not enough to define a person – all the gods knew this. And, as such, a new system was created.

Numbers.

What more to define a person than the infinity of numbers that made up the universe?

All human beings were born marked with simple numbers that dictated their souls; from zero to infinity, passing through the infinities of decimals that each one had, the numbers managed to acquire a body in that new world.

Stuck on the back of their necks, hidden by occasional hair and various clothes, the numbers became something sacred in that society; not only was it something that defined a person, that made them unique, but they were also the main factor in relationships and connections. The thing is, bored with the eternity of cosmic lives, the gods liked to create small games that helped them in the static passage of time – and what more exciting than guiding the various lost souls to their better half?

A soulmate was something primordial.

Created long before the first star was born, soulmates roamed the world hand in hand, their stardust unique to each pair created by the various gods. They were essences without bodies, united only by cosmic dust that insisted on cradling them in the eternities of time and space in the universe. However, just star and cosmic dust was something monotonous, without any substance of its own, without a body of its own that made everything much easier to see, to be marveled at.

Thus, the first humans were created.

A connection that was only felt by the universe, beautified by the stars and constellations that they made their homes, was now something tangible, something that could be seen, something that could be admired. And, since then, relationships began to blossom in the world according to the seasons, making all the love that was felt to be the cause of all the misfortunes and happiness in the world.

Every year, small letters with a specific number and initials appeared on the bedside tables of thousands of people, a hint to eternal happiness appearing in black tones on a white background.

For years, humans followed their cards, creating happy and fulfilled lives for centuries, never once contesting the appearance of neither their cards nor their veracity – the gods commanded, the humans followed.

“Eighty-three million, two hundred and twenty thousand, six hundred and seventy-four point one hundred and ninety-three.”

“What?”

Hoseok placed his apple juice on the table and looked at his friend, intrigued by the numbers he recited so naturally.

“It’s their number.”

“Their?” Hoseok raised an eyebrow and let out a small pretentious smile, knowing perfectly well who Namjoon was talking about.

“Their. I saw it yesterday when they got off the bus. It was very brief, but I’m sure that was the number.”

“And what do you intend to do with this life-changing information?”

Namjoon looked at Hoseok for the first time since they sat at the bar table. A smile played on the brunette’s lips, his dark eyes shining with the possibilities that danced in his mind.

He leaned forward, his chest almost touching the plate with his sandwich and, in a whisper too low for such a noisy space, Namjoon spoke in a soft and quite convinced voice.

“Write down this number and compare it to the one on my card.”

“Did you receive your card?”

Hoseok’s question came out automatically, a trace of nervousness clinging to the various syllables, his dark eyes widening behind his sunglasses.

“Not yet,” Namjoon sighed and resumed his starting position, playing with some loose crumbs from his sandwich. “But I believe it’s coming soon. I don’t know how to explain it, but every time I look at them…”

The words that were going to come out of Namjoon died in his mouth without having a chance to see the light of day. Taken by a mystical force, a chance written by the cosmos, Namjoon raised his face at the exact moment you entered the bar.

You looked beautiful that day.

Favored by the beauty of that day, the sun’s rays painted your smile golden; your eyes shone with the light of new experiences, your words sounding as delicate as the breeze of that day.

You entered the bar without any worries, your laugh filling the space with the delicacy of its sound. You were with your group of friends, looking for a free table in that crowded bar for you to have lunch before your afternoon class. Your eyes scanned the compartment with some hope, a smile lingering on your lips after a joke from your best friend.

And then you noticed. In all that confusion, oblivious to your friends’ conversations, too focused on finding a place to sit, you saw Namjoon looking at you. Static, without any thought beyond his eyes, without any reaction when you approached him, your smile expanding with each step you took.

“Hello,” you stopped behind Hoseok, one of your hands resting on his chair as your eyes jumped from Namjoon to Hoseok. “Ready for the test?”

Hoseok put his hands on his head, ruffling some of his silky hair as he let out a small growl, which made you laugh. And what a laugh. What a melody sung by your lips that seemed to fill the entire bar, drowning out every sound that appeared there.

“I spent the night studying, but I couldn’t memorize anything,” Hoseok’s outburst was accompanied by a tired sigh, his body leaning back against the chair, making you let go of it. “I don’t think even a miracle could save me.”

“Think of it like this,” you walked to the side of the table, Namjoon and Hoseok on your sides, your group of friends in front of you waiting for you. “It’s about the Bible. Jesus will be with you.”

Hoseok gave you a small frown and picked up his apple juice again, giving Namjoon a little kick under the table.

“And you? Are you ready?” Namjoon spoke finally, holding his sandwich and taking a small bite as he waited for your response.

“What helps me is being able to take the Bible with me,” you confessed between smiles and winks. “But I’m confident. Our presentation actually went well.”

“The teacher liked it,” Namjoon set down his sandwich and looked at you. “I think we even make a good team.”

“And I wouldn’t give anything for you two,” you smiled as you gently ruffled Hoseok’s hair. “Well, I’m going now. See you later.”

Namjoon followed you with his gaze out of the bar, the way your body walked excitedly towards your friends, the way your smile didn’t leave your lips for a single second.

“Eighty-three million, two hundred and twenty thousand, six hundred and seventy-four point one hundred and ninety-three.”

Namjoon repeated the number again under his breath, his eyes still fixed on the bar door.

“I can’t believe the teacher gave us more work,” Namjoon grunted, storming into his room. “Where do you want to start?”

He placed his Bible on the desk, throwing his backpack onto the bed. Hoseok followed in his footsteps, throwing the book on the bed and placing the backpack on the floor, opening it immediately with a sigh.

“We can start with the document the teacher gave us…” Hoseok’s voice was full of doubts and uncertainties, his hands frantically searching his backpack for a notebook. “We can read it and go from there.”

Namjoon didn’t say anything.

Sitting down at the desk, he turned on his computer and waited a few moments until his desktop began to glow in shades of blue and silver. “You start with the document and I’ll look for which books we need to study.”

Hoseok nodded and, after making himself comfortable on his best friend’s bed, he began to dive into the waves of knowledge in the document, reading and rereading concepts and terms, looking for something in the various lines of ink that could help him in his new work.

Namjoon, in turn, opened the web page, typing a few words before spending minutes opening and closing tabs, desperately looking for help. Beside him, the Bible was open, several sheets of papers and memory aids reminding Namjoon which books he needed to highlight and look deeper into.

Shrouded in stories and theories, the two friends didn’t notice as the hours passed. Too focused on their work, taking some notes and highlighting the most important thing, Namjoon and Hoseok disconnected from the outside world, believing that, the sooner they finished that work, the sooner they would free themselves from the academic responsibilities that gave them so many headaches.

The sun was slowly setting.

From Namjoon’s bedroom window, the various street lamps began to shine with the certainty that a long night was approaching; cars and people retired to their homes at the end of a long day of work, and, in the sky, between the soft clouds and the vast dark blue, several stars made their way to the earth, telling in their death endless stories of past memories and lives lived.

Namjoon stretched out in his chair. Putting down the computer mouse for a moment and looking away from the screen for the first time since he got home, Namjoon felt tired, totally devastated by a complicated day in his life: the Classical Texts exam had gone wrong – no matter how many prayers were in the Bible, he knew that his grade would go down; the teacher, at the end of the exam, gave his students one last assignment in a week full of exams and presentations; and, to end the last ray of hope in Namjoon, that day had been another day in which he was unable to do anything other than admire you.

It had been almost two years, but Namjoon had simply withdrawn into a bubble of shyness that prevented him from functioning decently in front of you. He didn’t understand why, but you had a power over him, like a spell, an enchantment that prevented him from functioning normally in your presence. It all happened so fast, he didn’t even remember the first time he succumbed to your charms, but, once consumed by your unique, cosmic essence, he found himself trapped in a web of emotions that prevented him from leaving.

But now was not the time to dwell on you. Now Namjoon had an obligation to fulfill and, as much as he wanted to ignore it, he knew that his responsibility as a student had to be pleased.

“Do you want to order some food?”

Hoseok straightened up in bed, putting his pencil behind his ear, adjusting the sunglasses on his head. “I’m not very hungry…”

“But we need to eat,” Namjoon stood up with a small grunt, walking away from the desk and grabbing his cell phone. “I’m going to order some food and I’ll take the opportunity to call Jin and ask for his notes for tomorrow.”

Hoseok didn’t answer him.

With tired eyes and a yawn trapped in his mouth, Hoseok saw his best friend leaving the room, making the room plunge into serene silence.

Tired of studying, feeling a strong pain in his back, Hoseok fell onto the bed, taking out his cell phone and starting to explore the digital world while waiting for Namjoon to return.

Hoseok was freely lost among images and videos, reading loose sentences without any context, finding a bit of tranquillity in the chaos of others. Hoseok’s slender fingers moved across the screen with ease, clicking on images and links, allowing him to sink into a little peace before returning to work.

But no matter how involved he was in the digital world, that didn’t stop Hoseok from listening.

It was a faint, low sound, like the turning of a page. It was brief, lasting only a second, something too small to be noticed – but Hoseok noticed, Hoseok realized that something had happened, and when he sat back down on the bed and looked at Namjoon’s desk, he saw it.

A small, white card rested gently on the wooden surface. It was thin, almost invisible from Hoseok’s point of view, but those dark letters, that black that adorned the card left no room for doubt: Namjoon had just received his card.

Hoseok leaned forward, looking closely at the initials and numbers written on the card.

There was silence.

A dark silence took over Namjoon’s room, leaning into every corner, refusing to leave through the door that Namjoon had left open. The shadows in the room seemed thicker at that moment, gaining a bit of dimension when seen from the corner of Hoseok’s eye; it seemed like they were watching him, trying to keep Hoseok’s actions in their dark corners, silently judging everything Hoseok did, everything he thought.

But Hoseok continued to look at the card, memorizing the initials and numbers, repeating them in his mind over and over again. Until he heard Namjoon’s voice approaching the room and he let the shadows keep the secret he had just done.

Namjoon was at the bus stop patiently waiting. Letting the sun warm him through the bus stop window, Namjoon faced the road with a smile on his lips.

Seeing students and teachers walking up and down the street, hearing the happy birdsong and feeling the cool breeze of the day on his face, Namjoon couldn’t be happier at that moment. That day seemed as if the whole world had gained a new color, a new meaning, as if all the stars that made up the universe had arranged themselves especially to draw Namjoon’s path.

He was certain that in that day nothing would destroy his enthusiasm. Not when he held tightly to a small white card and waited patiently for a bus to arrive, for you to arrive.

It had been mere minutes since Namjoon arrived at the stop to see your bus arriving punctually at your building. Keeping all the enthusiasm he was feeling in a small box inside his heart, Namjoon approached you when you got off the platform, ready for another day of classes.

“Good morning!”

“Oh, good morning, Namjoon,” your smile painted constellations, illuminating the entire universe with a simple curve of affection and delicacy. “Were you waiting for me?”

“Eighty-three million, two hundred and twenty thousand, six hundred and seventy-four point one hundred and ninety-three.”

You stopped walking and looked seriously at your classmate.

Confused by why those numbers were recited so passionately, you waited for Namjoon to continue his reasoning. Looking closely at Namjoon, you couldn’t help but let out a small smile; there was something about his childish enthusiasm, his cosmic joy that made you feel the slightest bit comfortable.

“It’s your number, isn’t it?”

“And how do you know my number?” your smile had taken on a playful tone, not realizing where that conversation would lead you, or why he was having it with you at that moment. As such, and as always, you just waited.

“Because they gave me that number yesterday.”

Namjoon handed you the small card he kept in his hand. Curious about his words, you looked at that white piece of paper, seeing your number and initials in dark tones.

ㅤㅤY.N. 83220674,193

You remained silent for a moment while you assimilated all that information.

In reality, you hadn’t received your card yet, but you didn’t care. In so many years of life, you never had the need to get together with someone, to let the gods guide your destiny with a mere card – that didn’t mean you weren’t expecting it. You were never a romantic by nature, avoiding cliché films and closing the books when the couple began to express their eternal love for each other – that didn’t mean you didn’t want that magic for yourself.

The reality is that throughout your life you have had to worry about something more than the triviality that was love. From friendships to school, your entire life was made up of obstacles that prevented you from delving into the complex webs of romantic relationships that could have been.

But there it was. A card. Your number. Your initials. There was no denying it – Namjoon’s soulmate was you.

Still trapped in those complex numbers and the beautiful initials carved into the white of the card, your mind began to wander to a future that could exist, leaving you speechless, completely surrendered to the surprise of the event.

“You seem excited about that idea,” not knowing how to respond, not knowing how to act after that revelation, you tried to focus your attention on Namjoon, starting to walk into the building with your colleague always by your side.

“Just happy for the confirmation.”

“Confirmation?” You looked at Namjoon confused and he just smiled before opening the door to the building for you.

“I always knew it was you.”

You gave a small laugh that gently echoed through the interior of the building. “What made you so sure?”

“That’s what I felt.” Namjoon let a sigh escape him, his lips expanding more and more into the victorious smile he wore. “Since the first day I saw you.”

You looked curiously at Namjoon as you climbed the stairs to the second floor.

“I can’t explain it to you, but from the first day I saw you, I felt something inside me changed. It’s hard to explain, but it’s as if the forces of the universe were pulling me towards you. Many times, without meaning to, I was already looking at you and wondering how I could talk to you.”

Namjoon’s words traveled seamlessly to your ears, collecting all the celestial magic they could grab along the way. Namjoon’s confession appeared wrapped in the stardust of the sky that sheltered you, leaving you to smile shyly at your colleague’s frankness.

Could it be true? All the words Namjoon said seemed too whimsical to be real, his honesty appearing like a small butterfly on warmer days, flapping its wings and simplicity with the lightness of someone who didn’t care about what he said.

“Very well,” you said finally, opening the door to the classroom and giving Namjoon space to enter. “And what do you intend to do with this new information?”

“For starters,” smiled Namjoon, leaning against one of the desks, the one where you always sat, and putting his hands in his pants pockets, “I’m going to ask you out on a date.”

“What if I say no?”

You sat in your seat, placing your backpack on the table and looking at Namjoon with amusement. “I will invite you until you say yes.”

You wouldn’t go as far as to say you were in love, but the truth was you felt something.

You would never think that agreeing to go out with Namjoon would bring you the avalanche of feelings that you started to feel. There was something about him. Something that moved you, that managed to reach your core and comfort your heart as if it were a blanket. You couldn’t explain what it was, you couldn’t explain what it was like, you just felt it. And it was something so unique and unusual that it consumed you every time you were with Namjoon.

Since the day you agreed to go out with him, your whole world seemed to have changed.

“Explain something to me,” Namjoon stretched as he sat in the chair. Leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand, he stared at you, eyes so bright and passionate that he made you feel important.

“What?”

“What do I need to do so I can be yours?”

You choked on the water. The words that Namjoon said hadn’t crossed your mind, taking you by surprise.

You coughed once, twice, three times, placed the glass of water on the table and looked at Namjoon, your eyes still shining with the tears that had formed seconds ago.

“What?”

“I just want to know,” his smile was infectious. Whenever Namjoon looked at you, he smiled, a smile that spread across his face and made him more beautiful, more brilliant, as if that curve of his lips were the only detail about him. “We have already gone on several dates. We already know each other well. What is missing?"

You stared at Namjoon.

In fact, you felt something every time you were with Namjoon, your heart growing warmer with each moment shared with him. But that something was indescribable, you couldn’t understand the nature of that something. What was it? Where did it come from? Why did it torment you so much every time you were with Namjoon?

Yes. You could ignore it. You should just let yourself lay in the comfort of that feeling, and allow yourself to enjoy a little of the tranquility that that feeling offered you. But there was something about that feeling, there was something that made you feel nervous. Maybe it was because you were happy and it had been years since you last felt so carefree and light; maybe it was because you couldn’t explain what you felt, the lack of words and descriptions leaving you delirious. You didn’t know exactly what it was. You just knew you weren’t ready.

“I’m waiting,” you let out a small smile, looking at the water in the glass and thinking deeply about that something attacking your heart. What was that?

“For a formal request?” Namjoon let out a small laugh, so beautiful and melodious that it made the authenticity of your smile change tones, the small line becoming more real with that laugh. “I can kneel here right now and ask you to be yours.”

“No,” now it was you who laughed, holding Namjoon’s hands when he made a move to get up. “Don’t be silly!”

“So what do you want? Tell me and I’ll give you anything.”

“My card.”

You whispered your confession a little nervously, letting your voice get lost in the university bar.

Namjoon looked at you, the smile that beautified him so much gently fading as he thought and repeated your words in his mind. Your card. Your card? Why were you waiting for something you already knew? What did you want to find in your white piece? Why was confirming a number so important to you? Didn’t you feel your connection? Didn’t you feel how your souls were interconnected for generations and eras, your essence existing on the same star before inhabiting the human bodies that held you back from expressing your true love?

“Why?”

Namjoon’s voice had changed tone. Before playful, sprinkled with passion and affection, it was now serious, monotonous, without any feeling attached to the intonation of the syllables.

“Just…” you continued to stare at the glass of water, too embarrassed by your whim, thinking that your request was a betrayal for Namjoon. “I just want to be sure.”

Namjoon looked at you without showing any emotion. His bright eyes were now opaque, focused on your figure, studying your posture; his lips were in a straight line, too tense from the conversation to be able to express a mere smile.

Finally, he took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and putting his hands in his coat pockets.

“If that’s what you want, I’ll wait.”

Namjoon’s words gently lifted your chin, finally looking at him, seeing a small, shy smile on his lips, filled with a small sadness wrapped in understanding.

“Tell me your number.”

“Sixty-nine point zero, one, six, zero.”

“…six, zero,” Namjoon’s number was now saved on your cell phone. You were smiling, believing that that exchange of numbers could be the last drop to fill the glass of your doubts – it had to be him, you felt it.

Namjoon got up from his chair, smiling and offering you his hand.

You put your cell phone away and held Namjoon’s hand, feeling his warm, thin fingers intertwine with yours, gently pulling you out of the bar and taking you through the city’s flowery paths to your house.

Saying goodbye with a kiss on your forehead, Namjoon watched you enter your house, the smile he still wore being painted with love and complete devotion – oh, how he loved you.

You sighed when you entered the house. You were tired. Classes were becoming increasingly demanding and, with the semester almost over, the pressure only increased.

You placed your hands on your shoulders and pressed down hard as you walked to your room. Your back was burning, a fog of anxiety was clouding your mind, your feet were asking for a moment of rest.

You threw yourself onto the bed, leaving your backpack at the bedroom door. You were exhausted, you couldn’t even open your eyes. Ready to get some sleep before studying, you took your cell phone out of your pants pocket and placed it on the bedside table next to the white card.

A white card.

As if pinching you with electricity, the card woke you up to reality.

You quickly sat down on the bed, holding that piece of paper in your hands.

Finally the confirmation, finally the key to your happiness.

You abruptly pulled Hoseok into an empty room. After closing the door with some force, you faced your friend who looked at you confused and a little worried.

“Wha–”

“You should have told me.”

You cut Hoseok’s words without any difficulty, throwing your card at Hoseok, he fumbling to catch the lightness of the paper.

You were upset, completely furious. Your heart pounded with the knowledge of that betrayal, forcing you to look at Hoseok with angry eyes and trembling lips.

“What happe–”

“Look at the card,” you didn’t want to shout at Hoseok, it wasn’t in your nature to speak loudly to other people, but at that moment, totally consumed by all the emotions that arose in your heart, you couldn’t control your tone of voice, your words coming out louder than intended. “Look at the card and explain to me why you didn’t tell me!”

Hoseok’s dark eyes looked at you nervously, the glow that embellished them giving them a fear that was completely unknown to him. It took a while. He was still assimilating your words, repeating them in his head, trying to understand what you specifically meant. But, when all the dots connected, when your anger became justifiable and the card essential, Hoseok quickly looked at the card, letting out a small curse when he saw the initials and numbers that adorned the white piece of paper.

ㅤ J.H. 2430.1872

“I can explai–”

“I can’t believe it. It is really you! You switched the cards!”

You let out a fake laugh, turning your body to face the door in an attempt to calm down. After taking a deep breath once, twice, three times, you looked back at Hoseok, who now had a look of determination that didn’t match your conversation.

“He loves you.”

“He’s not my soulmate,” you couldn’t explain, but your eyes started to water. Anger? Despair? Betrayal? What emotion did you seek from the turbulent sea that shook your heart to make you want to cry?

“That doesn’t invalidate the fact that he loves you.”

You shook your head, your lips forming a fake, angry smile, painted with the turmoil that existed in your heart. “You know perfectly well it does.”

“Listen,” Hoseok approached you, the card held in one of his hands. “You like him. It’s noticeable! The way you look at him. The way you shine when you’re with him! Yo–”

“No!” you shouted without realizing it, snatching the card from Hoseok’s hand and waving it in front of his eyes. “You are my soulmate. It’s you I have to stay with. You are the one I have to love.”

“No. No! No!” now Hoseok was also shouting, desperate to make himself heard, wanting to explain himself at all costs. “You don’t have to keep your–”

“You know perfectly well what happens to those who don’t stay with their soulmate.” Sadness. Hurt. Suffering. Grief. Years of pure despair. Years of nothing but anguish. “Do you really want him to be like that? Consumed by the negativity of the universe?”

“How,” Hoseok laughed, a little insane with your argument, taking his hands to his head and pulling lightly his hair. “How is he going to be unhappy if he has loved you since the first day you met?”

“Feelings come and go,” your tone returned to normal, your gaze now trapping Hoseok in a box with no escape, your conversation turning from despair to frustration. “He wouldn’t be happy with me.”

Hoseok looked at you furious with your deaf ears. You looked at Hoseok irritated by his empty words.

The door opened.

Namjoon entered.

“I heard screams… Is everything okay?”

Namjoon’s eyes jumped from you to Hoseok.

He was confused, he didn’t understand why you were alone in an empty room screaming. On the other side of the door, Namjoon hadn’t been able to understand the nature of your argument, but now looking at you, he knew it was something serious.

“Tell him.”

Your eyes finally got tired, the first tear sliding easily down your face, taking with it a bit of the sadness of reality. “Tell him, Hoseok.”

“Tell me what?”

Now Namjoon started to get nervous.

What had happened between the two of you to create such a tense atmosphere? How did the two of you, the ones who were always joking with each other, the ones who knew nothing more than laughter and smiles – how did the two of you end up screaming and crying?

“Tell him how I will never be happy with him because I am destined to love you.”

ㅤㅤ♡ feedback is appreciated ♡

[starberryfarms]

𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐨𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

tags: fluff, mini make-out (?), fem!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 1.0𝐤

𝐚/𝐧: 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨! 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 <3

You all walk back into one of the Orca’s houses to rest for the night. After the debacle with the Mad Mage and Dryads, you all definitely need it. Marcille has instructed Laois to practice his healing magic while she fixes Ambrosia, and you were the last of the group to be healed. You were holding off on him healing you, claiming you were “fine” and “it’s honestly not that bad.”.

Everyone went off to do their respective tasks and training, while Laios worked on trying to heal you. “Try not to kill her Laios.”Chilchuck jokes as they all exit the room. Laios chuckles nervously as he sits in front of you, the tension in the room thickens as you both look at each other. “No pressure…” You chuckled nervously as your eyes met his.

 “So, where’s your injury?” Laois asks as he looks you over. There was nothing he could physically see.

 At that your back straightens, “L-Laios, you really don’t have to do this. I can ask Marcille to do it later.” He pouts at your dismissal to his help.

“I can do it, I promise you’ll make it out alive …probably.” He jokes to try and relax you, thinking that’s why you were so adamant on him not healing you. 

“Okay…” You sighed knowing you’d regret this. 

“My uh… my injury is on my chest.” You say as you start to loosen your shirt, and look up to meet Laios’s eyes. His face flushes red as he brings his hand up to your chest, his hand trembling. You bring your hand up over his own, to firmly place it over your wound. 

Laios stares deeply into your eyes, you both say nothing for a while. His brown-gold eyes pierce into your soul.You clear your throat once you realize how long you’ve been staring at each other, “Um Laios, I think you're supposed to start now.”

 He jumps, closes his eyes and starts the incantation. As the words filled with magic traveled through his lips, you could feel it flowing through you as Laios chanted. The heat of his hand on your chest, makes your heart race the longer it rests there. You feared that the close proximity would give you away as you tried to focus on staying calm. Your eyes open, they flit down to watch his lips move as he speaks. They roam over his face taking in all his features. If you focused enough you could probably count the freckles that dust across his skin. 

“Stupid”, you think to yourself as you watch him. You’d done the one thing Chilchuck explicitly said not to do. But falling in love with Laios was like breathing, it came naturally. 

Laios opens his eyes and pulls his hand back slowly before looking over where your cut used to be. “H-how does it feel?”

He looks almost shocked by the fact that he’d actually healed you. He runs his pointer finger over the area, and a shiver runs down your spine. He looks up to meet your eyes, his hand still softly caressing over the now scar. “It feels good… a little itchy, but good.” you mutter breathlessly. 

Laios smiles as he looks up to meet your eyes, the distance between you two closes as his finger traces over your scar. “Sorry I haven’t mastered healing it up all the way.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind Laios.” Your hand comes up to rest over his, a soft smile blossoms on your face. A smug look falls over his face at his success and pink hue dusts his cheeks. He starts talking about how proud of himself he is and his shock that he was able to heal everyone. You chuckle as you watch him brag about his victories, and how he can’t wait to show Falin how much he’s learned when they get her back. 

You try to focus as he talks, but your eyes can’t help be trail over his form as he speaks animatedly. The way his muscles flex as he flails them about recounting their run in with the Dryads. The way his lips look as he smiles while talking. 

You interrupt him before he can run off on a tangent. You grab his hands to bring his focus back towards you.

 “Thank you Laios!”, you hug him, which shocks him at first, but then his hands slowly come around your waist to hug you back. You both stay like that for a while, his hands traveling up and down your back. Your arms that are loosely around his neck tighten slightly as your hands tickle the hair at the nape of his neck. 

When you both pull away, your faces are inches away from each other. You can feel his breath tickle your nose as your eyes flit from his own down to his lips. It’s like there’s a mysterious force that brings you both closer together.

“Sweets…” Laios whispers as his lips graze against your own. You don’t know what comes over you, but you close the distance between you and him. A gasp escapes him before he relaxes into the kiss, his hands that were on your waist tighten slightly. His grip pulls you in as the kiss escalates. The feeling of his hands on your waist, stirs something in you. 

His lips were rough against your own softer ones. Your hand slides up until it’s entangled in his soft golden blonde hair. You sigh as you feel the golden tresses of hair in between your fingers. To finally be this close to him, to feel him against you was unimaginable. 

You feel his body shiver as your fingers lightly scrape against his scalp. The kiss was sloppy with inexperience, you both had no idea what you were doing, but you knew one thing.

It felt good and it felt right.

Your noses brush softly against each other as this kiss grows in intensity. 

His hand comes up and his thumb strokes your cheek as you pull apart, his face a bright red. He looks at you in disbelief at what just happened. His breaths come out in huffs as he leans his forehead down to rest against hers, “H-how-…You-.. What?”. You giggle as you catch your breath, not quite meeting his eyes. He grabs your cheeks to pull your face up so that you are looking at him. His eyes filled with a warmth you’ve only seen when he spoke about the monsters he’s encountered.. 

Maybe you aren’t so stupid after all.

[hiraethwa]

one summer day

02 fly high. where you have yet to realize what ushijima will mean to you.

<< 01 clear skies. | >> 03 shining light.

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x reader a/n: double post this week, I'm feeling like i need some motivation to keep going. i wrote this a while ago, and am super excited with how this part ends, but i still feel like the flow isn’t the best here… word count: 1.4k warnings: some angst if you squint terms: furoshiki -- cloth that is used to wrap bento

june, first year

“curry rice!” you grin at the ash blonde haired boy, plopping a neatly wrapped bento on his desk as you slide into the seat in front of him. ever since your brother introduced you to him, he has become a constant in your everyday school life to the point that the two of you are almost inseparable. 

“are you coming over after practice again? we have that japanese homework that i need your help with” you shrug off your jacket, sweat sticking to your skin from the walk to school. summer is coming on quickly now, coaxing the spring blossoms that you loved so much away. 

semi hums in agreement as he unties the furoshiki and opens the bento excitedly. “it smells amazing, y/n! i am hungry thinking about it now even though i had breakfast.” he pouts at you. 

you laugh wholeheartedly, feeling something like satisfaction. it is one thing to have your family compliment your cooking, another to hear such sincere praises from your friends. you think this might just be it. high school might be better than you thought after all. after all the disappointments and heartbreaks from junior high and even before that. 

“thanks, eita. now keep it before you make the whole class hungry.” you poke fun at him as you pull out another set of wrapped bento, this one in plain cat print. it was the plainest, non-feminine-screaming furoshiki you could find after the one with crashing waves that you wrapped semi’s bento in. 

you didn’t normally bring bentos to school since both your parents are always busy with work. even this furoshiki is a recent addition after you graduated from junior high, when you started packing some meals for yourself. 

“so, you remember how ushijima-san helped me with my wound a few days ago?” you sound hesitant even to yourself. inside, you wanted to kick yourself for following through with this now that you are actually in the process of it, but it is too late. so you might as well get it over with. “i made an extra portion for him to thank him for his help… could you pass it to him at practice?”

“ehhh, why does he get one too? i have known you for two months now and it’s only my first time receiving a bento from you.”

you roll your eyes at the boy. “if you help me, i will make you a strawberry shortcake.” bribing him is easy when you knew he enjoyed the cake you shared last week. you breathe a sigh of relief when he does not pursue the topic any further. 

semi is quite the competitive persona, so it did not surprise you when that was the tangent he went off in, instead of the typical, do you like him? that other people would assume. this is good for you. you do not want him to misunderstand your intentions, and it’s not like you harbor those feelings for ushijima. you just strongly dislike the feeling of being in anyone’s debt. 

“how is practice for interhigh matches going anyway?” you smile at your newfound friend who you got along with as naturally as breathing. 

yes, high school will be different. i will see it so. 

it is pouring outside later that afternoon regardless of how clear the skies were when you walked to school in the morning. the sound of volleyball practice fades into the background as you pull out a blank music sheet and start scribbling the tune that has been rattling around your head today. 

today, when you climbed the stairs to the gymnasium and watched the practice match your school is playing against the college team that came in, you had expected to experiment with the melody when you get home later. you note that the usual starting lineup were on court, with the exception of one of the wingspikers being subbed out for ushijima. even though he is just a new first year. perhaps this is the lineup that the coach has in mind for the interhigh tournament, you had thought. 

and even though you have seen countless of your brother’s matches over the years, this one felt different. the spiking form of the player as he begins his approach, swinging both arms backwards before leaving the ground, feet kicked out behind him, and making contact with the ball with his left hand, sending it back into the opponent’s courtside, felt different. 

it had felt like you were given wings to soar high above the clouds when all life did was cover up the blue skies that you loved so much. it had felt like coming up for a full breath of fresh air after being dunked in water. it had felt like you were alive again, for once in a very long time. 

and the melody that you had been crafting takes on a life of its own, taking its first flight from your hands and rise high up into the sky. twisting, turning. triumphant. the notes flow onto the sheet as your hand struggles to keep up with your mind. 

before you know it, you hear semi calling your name from the court. eh, the match is over? you glance at your watch, showing two hours after when you arrived at the court. “yes! be right there!” you yell back, swinging your belongings onto your shoulder and making your way downstairs. 

music sheet in hand, mind far ahead of yourself, wanting to play it on your violin already, you venture to find your friend. semi is standing at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed while waiting for you. “were you paying any attention to the game, y/n?”

“what– take a look at this first,” you shove the paper in his hands, excitedly waiting for his response. one could say one of the reasons you two got along so well is your love for music. 

he takes his sweet time reading your rough draft and giving you a “hmph” before returning it to you. “fine, i forgive you for missing my set. this is an acceptable excuse, i suppose. it is no small feat to overcome a creative block.”  

semi shoots you a mischievous smile before slinging his arm over your shoulders and messing your hair up with his other hand. “SEMI”

“well done! but no next time though” “no promises”

another voice cuts through the air, stopping both of you from making a bigger scene. you had resorted to trying to make his hair stick up vertically as revenge. 

“miyamura-san…” ushjima holds out the cat clothed bento to you, slightly amused by you and semi. “thanks for the curry rice, it was delicious.” 

“waa, a compliment from ushijima-san, your cooking must have been amazing, miyamura-san,” a red-haired boy pokes his head out from behind ushijima, whom you would later learn is none other than tendo satori, a troublesome boy who always seemed to be able to see through you. 

you beam at his compliment, “heh, thanks guys.” swinging your bag to the front, you shuffle the things around in your bag to make space for the box. he had neatly tied the furoshiki around the box, which caught you by surprise, as semi had returned his to you in a clumsily packed fashion. you surmise that the rising ace in front of you is an athlete who probably likes to keep his life neat and in order, he seems like the type. 

“so what are you up to later, semi-semi?” 

“ah, i am going to y/n’s to study”

“can i come with? i have nothing else to do.”

“no! if you’re so free you can practice more volleyball.” 

semi banters with the red-haired boy, which sounds like a regular occasion to you. you chuckle to yourself, picturing ushijima, the stoic spiker, playing the referee between the two boys. now that would be entertaining to watch. 

your eyes meet ushijima’s, to which he raises his eyebrow at you as if he’s saying what’s so funny? you shrug, feigning innocence before turning away from him. 

neither of you realized it at the time, but ushijima gave you wings to fly, even before you really knew each other. 

looking for more? browse the collection

[usiel21]

Dramatic Wenclair.

Wednesday Depressed: (Plays a haunting perfect rendition of Max Richter's "On the nature of Daylight"

Wednesday: Life has no meaning without her, without her there is no daylight, nor the coming of spring, or the rising of moon, there is no blossom or withering that could replace the dreadful hole she left in my cold, dead heart.

Yoko: (Who has just watched Wednesday in her tangent and performance whilst sat in their dorm) For fuck sake Enid has only been gone ten minutes!

Wednesday: (Dramatically) And yet I fear that for each minute that passes I am rendered undone, I fear whereupon she returns, my despair may have consumed me.

Yoko:(Mumbling)...Christ and here I thought Enid was dramatic (Door Opens) Enid: Hey guys! I'm back!

Wednesday: Enid...

Enid: (Tearing up) I really missed you!

Yoko: (Watching this disaster take place Enid sobbing and Wednesday hugging her tightly) Honestly surprised you two aren't already married.

Enid: My dress is being delivered on Monday!

Wednesday: Mine is already in the closet. I planned to cover it in the blood of Enid's enemies.

Enid (With Heart Eyes) YOU WERE!?

Wednesday: Of course (Reaching out to gently cup Enid's face in a ghost of a touch) I must protect that which is most precious to me.

Enid: (On the verge of tears again) Oh Wends...

Yoko: (Grimacing) Oh God... right i'm out this is too gay even for me

Neither of them notice as Yoko walks out, fake retching

[mintmatcha]

Heat blisters across the ocean in waves. Summer is at its peak, rippling the air.

The others in your party have decided to dip down the beach's scorching sands and into the ocean foam, but you've decided to stay put. Marcille's griping partially carries over the break of waves, only the overtones of her voice and Falin's giggles reaching you, a distant siren's song that beckons you closer.

Instead, you pop the last crumbling bit of your popsicle into your mouth and close your eyes. The flavor spills across your tongue, flashes of citrus and blossoms of berry, and you hum in appreciation. When only the wooden taste of the stick is left, you open your eyes and catch how Laios has been watching you.

His lips are slightly parted, blush pink and gently moist, still wet with the same seawater that hangs from his dirty blonde hair. Those golden eyes are wide and just as bright as the sun.

The attention makes you glimmer; Laios is... different than other men you've liked, but he's certainly the most attractive. Wide shoulders and a thick frame, you can see how his muscles move through his sweat soaked undershirt, coiled and strong. It makes you act differently; you curl your spine and stick out your chest, pointing your toes to make your legs seem longer and more alluring-- all of the things women do when they want a man to want them.

Then, you remember who you're dealing with.

"Oh, sorry." You gesture with the empty wooden stick. "Did you want some?"

Laios blinks. Then, blinks again.

"Oh, uh-" he laughs, cheeks red. "Yeah."

The excitement inside you slumps. Yeah, he just wanted your snack.

"You should have asked." You roll your head to your shoulder and shiver at the bead of sweat the dips across the open curve of your neck. He does the same, rubbing the back of his neck with the flat of his palm. "I didn't know you liked sweets. It was really good."

Laios swallows and you watch his throat bob.

"I just didn't think you'd want my spit all over it."

"Spit doesn't bother me."

He doesn't say anything back. The silence unsettles you; Laios isn't one to ever stop talking. He's filled with tidbits and tangents that are seemingly never-ending. Shuro and Chilchuck hate it, but there's a certain charm to the joy he has when he's dumping information on your lap.

"Do you think there's any monsters in the water around here?" You try to spark that joy in him.

"No, they don't come in this close to shore; it's too overfished." Laios rattles off with ease, no passion behind it. "Do you really not mind spit?"

"I guess not?"

"Cool." Laios leans back again, watching the shore where everyone else relaxes as if searching for something. When he seems to find it, he turns back to you and swallows again before quickly diving into you. Before you can process what's happening, his lips find your cheek. They're somehow warmer than the air, but not as warm as the wet flash of tongue that creeps out from between them. It's nothing more than a quick swipe, but it's enough to rip a gasp from your lungs before he pulls away.

"You're right." The sticky orange juice of your dessert is stuck to his lips. "It was good. A little salty."

[hipandhorrific]

Thing I wish was explored in Veilguard but probably wasn't due to time (spoilers under cut)

They make a whole big Thing about how the first elves are spirits but they don't even TOUCH ON how the first dwarves were made by Titans.

Were they made the same way? Out of Lyrium?

The Codex entry Old Elven Writing that only appears if you drank from the Well of Sorrows says this:

"In this place we prepare to hunt the pillars of the earth. Their workers scurry, witless, soulless. This death will be a mercy. We will make the earth blossom with their passing."

Was this elven propaganda because they only saw the dwarven hivemind as an extension of the Titans and not dwarves as individuals beyond them? Are they 'soulless' because they lack Spirits and have something else instead?

If Darkspawn are titan nightmares are Dwarves their dreams?

And does this mean the first Darkspawn were only genlocks because we need Broodmothers to get the other ones if Titans only knew how to make Dwarves?

Maybe some of this was answered in a Codex I missed, I only got like 80% of them so far.

Like, idk dude. My brain is defo going off into a dozen different tangents. I feel like there's a whole thing there that was glossed over. I hope we get more in another game, or a World of Thedas book, or novel or SOMETHING.

I do like that this game answered so many mysteries only to divvy out a dozen more questions. I just wish Harding had the same crisis of re: her origins as Bel did.

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Typical Stark - Chapter 10

A/N: Final chapter guys! Leave a comment, like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

Pairing: Tony Stark x Fem! Reader

Warnings: 18+ fluffy smut. All the feels.

Word count: 2.3k

Typical Stark Masterlist

.

Calm.

That was what you were primarily feeling. Content, calm and happy. Feelings you would otherwise find in mere fleeting moments in your day to day lives.

The bucolic setting you were currently in added greatly to it as well. Eyes closed in sublime bliss, a faint smile played on your lips as the gentle wind rustled the autumn leaves around.

The last few weeks in Scotland had been a wonderful blur of golden wheat fields, walks by the rustic countryside, hot cups of tea and pastries and magical sunsets. Along with lazy strolls around the village by the sea and nights spent in front of the fireplace making love.

Your honeymoon couldn’t have been better.

…

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss—of course you already are.”

The hall erupted into cheers and claps as Tony grabbed you by your waist and kissed you, effectively interrupting Rhodey who was now rolling his eyes, making you yelp in surprise as he dipped you dramatically, making the crowd go wild.

“Hello, Mrs. Stark.” He murmured against your lips, making your heart flutter.

You were Mrs. Stark.

“Hi there, Mr. Stark.” You smiled back, gazing lovingly at your now husband whose eyes shone with adoration and mirth.

The team along with other friends and family watched with moist eyes as you and Tony danced for the first time as husband and wife. His big doe eyes shone under the soft light that illuminated the space, swimming with love that turned your insides into mush, a perpetual blush on your warm cheeks as he gazed at you.

If someone told you a couple of years ago that one day you’d find your soulmate in Tony Stark and fall head over heels for the man, you’d call them crazy. What started off as animosity blossomed into the most unlikely romance.

What a journey it had been!

You weren’t even sure if you were following the music anymore, it seemed the world had faded away and it was just the two of you that mattered in the moment.

Tony’s fingers danced over the expanse of your back as you continued to dance, the lace fabric of your wedding gown soft and enticing against his nimble fingers. You could tell he was getting fidgety by the way they tapped against your skin, making you smile and raise your head from his shoulder.

“Want me to get you one of my special cocktails, dear husband?” You asked softly, making Tony chuckle as you both recalled your first date. The day you met the real Tony Stark, the man behind the Iron Man facade.

“How d’you know I’ve been wanting one of those?” He grinning, kissing the back of your hand as you dragged him towards the bar counter.

“I know when you’re distracted and restless.” You pointed out, gesturing to the bartender to make you your signature cocktail.

“All I can think about is getting you out of that dress, honey. Trust me, I am distracted.” He murmured against your ear, his honey-dripping voice traveling straight to your core.

“Do you think they would notice if we bail out?” You pondered, making Tony chuckle, glad that you were on the same tangent as him.

“I think Rhodey would have me by my neck if we don’t stay back for his grand speech. But after that, I’m all yours and you, Mrs. Stark, are all mine.”

Mere inches from touching his lips, your little moment was interrupted when someone cleared their throat behind you, much to Tony’s annoyance.

To your surprise, it was Stuart, your ex, and the guy you dated before joining the Avengers. You’d been family friends for ages and were still in touch, not as much but you were pleased to see him there for your special occasion.

“Stuart! You made it! How’ve you been?” You asked politely, after giving him a hug, frowning at Tony who’s gaze was fixed upon your hand touching your ex’s arm.

“Y/N/N, I knew you’d be the first to get married between the two of us. You look stunning. She knows how to break hearts.” He joked, offering his hand to Tony who straightened up and accepted it rather reluctantly, giving him a stiff nod.

“Tony, this is Stuart, an old family friend and yes, emphasizing on old, looks like someone’s got grays peeking through.” You giggled, touching his hair to point out the graying bits, adding to Tony’s annoyance.

As you exchanged pleasantries and spoke about good old times, Tony gulped his drink and placed the glass back on the counter a little too forcefully, clearing his throat.

“Well, it was nice of you to come. But I’d like to steal my bride away now, if that’s okay?”

He slid his arm around your waist and pulled you against him, kissing your temple, letting his lips linger for a while more than he normally would.

You hastily said goodbye to Stuart as Tony dragged you away, urgent steps leading you away from the crowd and into an empty room.

“Tony, what was that—” he didn’t give you time to finish your sentence as his lips descended onto yours in a fervent kiss, walking you back until your back hit a wall behind.

A part of you was irritated by the way he reacted but that part was quickly silenced by the sinful tingles that went down your spine as Tony’s hands kneaded your clothed breasts, knee wedging between your legs before you felt his groin brush deliciously against yours.

“Tony..” you warned, glancing at the door that wasn’t locked, anybody could walk in looking for you.

He slammed both your hands above your head in urgency, trailing kisses down your neck, showing no signs of slowing down or stopping.

You felt him sucking hard on a spot that normally made you weak in the knees but right now, he wasn’t doing it out of passion, it was out of jealousy.

That irked you.

“Tony stop.” You breathed, making the man halt at once and take a step away, his brown eyes dilated with lust, laced with confusion.

“What are you doing?” You grabbed the lapels of his jacket as your heart slowed to a normal pace.

“What? A husband can’t sneak his wife away for a few moments to make out?” He shrugged, warily placing his arms around your waist but not pulling you close.

“That wasn’t making out, that was marking territory. On our wedding day, Tony? Seriously?” You kept your voice low but the irritation in it was clear.

Tony stared at your hands, staying quiet.

“Okay, he was bugging me. Happy?”

“Stuart? Why?” You coaxed him to look at you.

“Why? The man was practically drooling over you, Y/N! Like he missed out on a fucking opportunity to be with you.” He rambled on, his grip on your waist tightened unconsciously.

“And what if we dated in the past?” You murmured, Tony’s hands slid away from your waist down into fists clenched tightly.

This added to your irritation further. That and the fact that Tony was acting like a kid denied his favorite treat, his brows furrowed as he paced around the room.

“So you’re allowed to have a past and not me? Tony? Are you serious right now? Tony! Look at me.” You called.

“I don’t know, Y/N! You’re mine and I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.” He grumbled, almost adorably, making your anger dissipate.

You chuckled and reached out to pull him close by his jacket, your grin widening as he shot you a glare.

“I married you, Anthony Edward Stark, you foolishly-in-love genius, billionaire, ex-playboy, philanthropist. Today’s our wedding day, in case you forgot.” You murmured, leaning in closer and closer as you spoke, walking him back until he hit the back wall softly.

“No. But maybe Mr. Almost-Silver-Fox out there needed a reminder.”

Now you had to laugh, cupping his handsome face, you pressing your lips against his in a promising kiss to which he responded immediately, melting into it with a sigh.

“Would it help if I told you he was really bad in bed?” You giggled, sneaking a hand inside Tony’s dress pants where his cock reacted with a twitch.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“And what about this new man you’re marrying?”

“Oh he’s a wizard. A sex God, if you will.” You smirked, mirroring his expression.

Tony’s breath stuttered as you continued palming him over his boxers, pulling away almost suddenly and watching him whine.

“Hey!”

“You know what you did, husband mine.”

You pulled away, pleased with the tent poking in his pants and that betrayed look on his face before walking out to rejoin your wedding reception.

…

“Can we go inside and make more tea?”

Tony’s soft voice pulled you out of your reverie, making you chuckle in surprise at his out of the blue question.

“Is this honeymoon converting a certain coffee addict into a tea lover?”

You exclaimed dramatically, giggling as Tony tickled your sides, gently guiding you down to meet your lips. He was reluctant to lift his head from your lap, or even move a muscle, given how relaxed and at peace he felt, but he had other things on his mind now. You being top of the priority list.

Following you inside, Tony was glad to see logs of wood still burning in the fireplace, it was definitely chilly outside but he’d never admit it. He held a corner of the pale yellow knit sweater you wore, clinging onto it like a little child & making you giggle.

You filled a kettle with water and put it on the stove, tapping your fingernails against the marble counter, waiting before Tony pressed his chest to your back, caging you in.

His fingers found their way inside your sweater, feeling your warm skin before pulling your hair to a side to expose your neck.

Eyes fluttered close as his soft, plump lips followed your well-mapped trail starting behind your ear, down your neck to your collarbone where he pulled your sweater down to nibble at your skin.

“I thought we were making tea..” you murmured with a smile, a smirk teasing his lips at the slight change in your voice already.

“We are. But you know I always like dessert with my tea.”

He lifted your arms to pull the sweater above your head and discarded it without giving it another glance, trailing his fingers down your arms as he took them down your sides.

Your head fell back against his shoulder as he dipped a hand inside your pants, fingers grazing against your nerves down there, teasing with his thumb.

“So wet already? My naughty girl.” He gathered some of your slick with a finger, humming in approval as your legs automatically parted for him.

His breath was hot against your face, holding you firmly against his chest as he rubbed lazy circles around your clit.

Grinning against your flushed skin when he felt your hips push back for more contact, Tony stepped back, only to peel your bottoms down your legs.

“Aren’t I still your favorite toy?” He murmured against your glistening core, his hot breath fanning against the skin.

Shuddering, you only manage a nod, gripping on his hair to guide him towards where you need him the most. The ultimate giver that your husband claims to be, Tony placed both of hands behind your legs, wordlessly telling you to take control.

This man would truly be the death of you.

Desire licks deep within your belly as Tony eats you out, nose brushing against your clit while his tongue works his magic, drawing out needy moans.

He had your legs trembling in no time as your first orgasm hit you like a train, the addition of his fingers sustaining your high.

As you recovered, he picked you up and carried you out in the living room. Placing you carefully against a soft rug that lay before the fireplace, he undressed and freed his erect cock.

Lining up against your entrance, Tony leaned over to nudge your nose to get you to open your eyes to look at him.

The promise to always look at each other with love and admiration.

A synchronous sigh left your lips as he entered you, nice and slow to allow you to feel all of him.

Weaving your fingers and gripping them firmly, he placed both your hands above your head as he gradually began moving.

The moment couldn’t be more perfect.

Soft sighs echoed in the room as he speared into you, stretching you out deliciously with every thrust.

The promise to remember that love grows stronger when tested.

Dipping his head, he kissed you deeply, sliding his tongue to meet yours as you moaned into his mouth. Your heels dug into his hips as you met his thrusts halfway, feeling his thighs clench and twitch.

To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until parted by death.

“Tony..” you cried, walls clenching around his length, drawing him deeper inside.

“I’ve got you, honey. Come with me.”

He grunted as his thrusts became sloppier, holding on to come with you. With his lips attached to your neck, you felt yourself tumbling over the edge, walls fluttering around his cock as it twitched inside, spilling his seed.

“I love you, Mr. Stark.” You grinned lazily, pressing your lips against his stubbled cheek as you caught your breath.

“I love you more, Mrs. Stark.”

You must’ve stayed there for only a few breaths before Tony lifted his head to give you a soft kiss against your forehead, his eyes already dancing with mischief.

“What?” You narrowed your eyes at the man, not really wanting to move an inch from your position.

“I’d really like that tea now.”

Rolling your eyes, Tony watched your face with such mirth, it took you a second to realize he’d muttered ‘Typical Stark’ with you this time.

…

[gunsnpie]

i have this soft early seasons hc that the moment smartphones became A Thing and you could finally take instant HD pictures of anything, sam started taking pictures of everything. a cute dog he saw on the street? snap. an interesting brick layout? snap. a squirrel eating a piece of bread in some park? snap. an ancient, pretty much decaying book in a library? snap.

snap. snap. snap.

and then when he'd get home (by that i mean, dean, at whatever motel room they were crashing in at the time), maybe to find dean making something to eat or cleaning his guns, & he'd go up to him all excited and show him every picture he took, give him small explanations, talk about how amazing it is that the pictures look so smooth and colorful and "just like the real thing, dean!" — and dean would look at all of them, and listen to sammy's explanations (even if he sometimes went on tangents dean couldn't understand), and he'd make comments, definitely tease sam a lil about his nerdyness. it didn't matter how long it took, because seeing his baby brother so happy about something so small just- made his heart hurt, filled him with affection. made dean realize how much he missed it, missed sam going on rants about science, about books, about whatever nerdy sci-fi thing he was into at the time. missed that glint in sam's eyes, the happiness that made him look so alive (missed when life was simpler).

sam smiles as he shows dean a picture of a blossoming flower and all dean can think about is how much he loves this kid.

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

What do you associate with the L&DS boys? You sent sunsets to Caleb and spring to Xavier, but what about the others 👀

OOOHHH this is so fun anonie i went off on a tangent in the drafts but i'll go ahead and pester the other blogs' asks on this too actually <3

BUT if i maayyyy elaborate on those two first ....

caleb is more than sunsets, more than cotton candy skies. he's more than all these tangerine horizons, more than the way the sun bathes the landscape in a pretty golden hue. he's autumn. pumpkin patches and a crackling fireplace, a red scarf around your neck, the use of plaid. he's that fluttering dance of orange leaves, falling to the ground from their branches, the crunch they make on the pavement beneath your feet. a lingering warmth blended with a hint of cool, still soothing to the touch, a comforting arm around your shoulder. he's a reminder that endings can be beautiful, too. that you can begin again.

xavier is more than spring—more than cherry blossoms and april showers, more than the gentle breeze that carries along fluttering petals of color. he's more than the stars that shine at night, too. he's more than the way they glimmer in the distance, ethereal in all that they are. he's comfort. he's home. a fort of blankets, a warm, weighted duvet, soft fluffy pillows to crash into after a long day at work. the smell of fresh laundry. a collection of plushies strewn across the bed. he's the sunlight streaming through the windows, the soft lull of the ticking clock... a home with the lights on, a home with the door left wide open, if only for you to fall back into his arms. he's a reminder of peace. that you always have somewhere to run to. that you're safe.

zayne ; jeremiah ; rafayel