#green dream wine tours

[thesingletraveller]

Green Dream Tours: Napa & Sonoma Wine Tasting Day Tour Review

The Solo Scale: On a tour that’s main concept is sampling wines (and loosening social inhibitions), going solo is no big deal. You’ll likely run into other solo travellers, and you’ll quickly make lots of friends. By the journey back, once everyone has tried plenty of wine, you’ll all be in great moods. If you’re a connoisseur of wine, then you’ll know that San Francisco is a top destination if…

[itsnotsoobiebobbie]

BTS REACTION: "YOU ARE MY WORLD"

i'm not fluent in english, forgive me for any mistakes!

genre: fluff

photo credits: @koovias

KIM SEOKJIN

In a small coastal town, where the sound of ocean waves mingled with the cool night breeze, you and Seokjin found yourselves at a special candlelit dinner. The restaurant, hidden among old alleys, was known for its cozy atmosphere and delicious dishes.

You had planned this night for weeks, aiming for everything to be perfect for Jin, who had always supported you through your toughest times and made you smile in your happiest moments. The candles placed around the table softly illuminated your faces, creating a glow in both of your eyes.

As you enjoyed red wine and talked about memories and future dreams, the soft music in the background seemed to accompany the harmony of the moment. Your boyfriend, with a serene smile, looked at you with admiration, feeling like the luckiest man in the world to have you by his side.

The main course arrived, and you savored every bite together. You noticed a small dab of sauce at the corner of Jin's lips and chuckled softly. "You're always making a mess," you said affectionately, wiping it off with a napkin.

When dinner ended and dessert was served, a comfortable silence settled between you. You gazed deeply into your boyfriend's eyes, your heart beating fast with the intensity of the moment. Slowly, you reached out and cradled his face in your palms, feeling the softness of his skin.

"Jin," you began, your voice soft and filled with emotion, "I'm holding my world."

His eyes shimmered with unshed tears as he covered your hands with his own. "(Y/N)," he replied, his voice choked with emotion, "you are my universe."

The world around seemed to fade away as you both remained in that moment, feeling the depth of the love you shared. The candles continued to burn, casting dancing shadows on the walls, silent witnesses to the promise of eternal love.

MIN YOONGI

It was a golden afternoon, and the sun poured over the vineyards of the picturesque winery where you and Yoongi had decided to spend the day. You walked hand in hand among the rows of vines, admiring the green leaves and the clusters of grapes hanging lazily.

The winery had a rustic charm, with old stone and wood buildings that told stories of decades of winemaking tradition. The air was scented with the aroma of ripe grapes and the faint smell of oak barrels. It was the perfect setting for a romantic date.

You took a tour of the winery, guided by a passionate winemaker who explained every detail of the wine production process, from the grape harvest to fermentation and aging in the dark, cool cellars. You listened attentively, but your eyes sparkled differently when you looked at your boyfriend.

After the tour, you were led to a tasting. You sat at an outdoor table overlooking the vineyards that stretched as far as the eye could see. Crystal glasses were filled with wines of different vintages and types, and each sip was a new discovery of flavors and aromas.

While tasting a full-bodied red wine, you placed your glass on the table and looked deeply into Yoongi's eyes. You leaned forward, with a soft smile on your lips, and cupped his face in your hands.

Yoongi was surprised, but your touch was so tender and filled with affection that he couldn't help but smile. He felt the warmth of your hands and the depth of your gaze, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to disappear.

You then said, with a soft and emotional voice, "You know, Yoon, when I hold your face like this, I feel like I'm holding the entire world. You are my world."

Your boyfriend felt a wave of emotion wash over him. Your words touched his heart deeply. He placed his hands over yours and squeezed gently, feeling an indescribable connection.

"(Y/N)," he replied, his voice choked with emotion, "you have no idea how much that means to me. I feel the same way. You are everything to me."

You stayed there, in silence, enjoying the moment, feeling the gentle breeze and the warmth of the sun setting on the horizon.

JUNG HOSEOK

It was a rainy Saturday afternoon, and you and Hoseok decided to turn the day into something special. You had set up a home spa, a sanctuary of tranquility. Soft aromas of lavender and eucalyptus filled the air, and lit candles cast a warm, golden glow over the space, creating an atmosphere of calm and intimacy.

You had prepared a selection of facial masks, bath salts, and essential oils, lighting scented candles around the house, while Hobi took care of the music, choosing a playlist of relaxing nature sounds. You started the afternoon with a bath full of rose petals, followed by a massage with essential oils that left both of you relaxed and refreshed.

After the bath, you sat on the sofa, dressed in soft robes. You began applying a clay mask to Hope’s face. He closed his eyes, feeling your hands working gently on his skin. When you finished, you wiped your hands and sat beside him, watching his face covered by the mask. There was something soothing about seeing your boyfriend relaxed, trusting you completely.

In a moment of pure tenderness, you cradled Hobi’s face in your hands. He opened his eyes, surprised by the delicacy of the gesture. Looking deeply into his eyes, you said softly: “Hope, you know that when I’m holding your face like this, I’m holding my world?”

Hobi felt a shiver run through his body. Your words touched his heart in a way he had never felt before. There was something powerful and comforting in the idea of being someone’s world, in the certainty that for you, he was everything.

He smiled and held your hands that were still on his face. “(Y/N), I never thought I could feel so special. Thank you for making me feel this way.”

You leaned in for a gentle kiss, sealing that moment of love and mutual understanding. The afternoon continued with more moments of affection, heartfelt conversations, and laughter, strengthening the bond that united you.

KIM NAMJOON

On a sunny summer afternoon, you and Namjoon decided to spend the day at a farm on the outskirts of the city. The farm was vast, with fields of sunflowers, apple orchards, and a stream winding through the land. Upon arriving, you felt the fresh air and the scent of nature.

You walked hand in hand through the blooming fields, laughing and talking about your lives, dreams, and plans for the future. With your hair blowing in the wind, you couldn’t contain the happiness you felt being there with your boyfriend. He, with his captivating smile, seemed like he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

At one point, as you approached a majestic tree, you stopped and looked intently at Namjoon. He watched you with curiosity, not quite understanding what you were thinking. You moved closer, gently cradled his face in your hands, and with eyes shining with emotion, said: “Namjoon, I’m holding my world.”

He was surprised and moved by the declaration. He felt a wave of love and gratitude flood his heart. With a shy smile, he asked: “What do you mean by that, (Y/N)?”

You looked deeply into his eyes and replied: “You are my world, Joon. When I’m with you, I feel like I have everything I need. You make me feel safe, loved, and complete. At this moment, holding your face, I feel like I’m holding everything that is most important to me.”

Touched by your words, he pulled you into a tight embrace. He felt the warmth and sincerity of your love. With a soft kiss on your forehead, he whispered: “You are my world too, (Y/N). And I will do everything I can to make sure you always feel this way, safe and loved.”

You stayed there, embraced under the shade of the tree, listening to the sound of the wind through the leaves and the distant chirping of birds. The world around seemed to pause, leaving only love to fill the space and time.

PARK JIMIN

It was a summer afternoon, and the sky was clear and blue. You and Jimin decided to have a picnic in the park. The place was perfect: a large tree provided pleasant shade, and the lush green lawn seemed to invite you to spread out a blanket and relax.

You prepared a basket full of goodies: fresh sandwiches, fruit, homemade cookies, and a bottle of orange juice. Jimin brought a soft blanket and a small speaker to play your favorite songs.

You laughed and talked about everything and nothing at the same time. The gentle breeze made the leaves of the trees whisper, creating a peaceful melody. After eating, you lay down on the blanket, gazing at the sky.

“Look at that cloud,” Jimin said, pointing to a formation that resembled a dragon.

You laughed. “It looks more like a winged horse to me.”

“Maybe it’s a winged dragon, then.” he teased.

You fell silent for a moment, simply enjoying each other’s company. Then, you sat up and looked deeply into Jimin’s eyes. Without saying a word, you gently cradled his face in your hands.

Your boyfriend furrowed his brow, curious: “What’s wrong, love?”

You smiled, your eyes shining with a mix of love and seriousness. “You know, mochi, when I’m holding your face like this, I feel like I’m holding my world.”

Jimin felt his heart skip a beat. He knew you were serious. To you, he was more than just a boyfriend; he was your safe harbor, your confidant, your best friend.

“You are my world, (Y/N),” he said, his voice full of emotion. “And I would do anything to make you happy.”

You leaned in and kissed him gently, feeling the warmth and sincerity in every word. You spent the rest of the afternoon together, laughing, talking, and dreaming about the future. As the sun began to set, painting the sky with shades of pink and orange, you snuggled into Jimin’s arms, feeling truly at home.

KIM TAEHYUNG

It was a Friday night, and you and Taehyung decided to spend time together in a different way: a game night with punishments and rewards to spice up the competition. The living room was illuminated by soft lights, and the coffee table was filled with board games, cards, and snacks.

“Ready to lose?” you teased with a mischievous smile.

“We’ll see who loses!” Tae retorted, determined.

The first game of the night was Jenga. Each block removed increased the tension, and both knew that whoever toppled the tower would face a punishment. After several rounds, it was Tae who, with a trembling hand, toppled the structure.

You laughed loudly. “I think you deserve a punishment. How about dancing the Macarena for a full minute?”

Your boyfriend blushed but accepted the challenge. He stood up and began dancing, eliciting laughter from you.

After Jenga, you moved on to Uno. The cards flew across the table as you tried to outplay each other. When you finally won, you demanded your reward: a shoulder massage. Taehyung, ever the gentleman, agreed and started to gently massage your shoulders.

Later, you decided to play Truth or Dare. The game took an intimate turn when you chose dare and Taehyung asked you to say something you had never said before. You thought for a moment, looking into his eyes.

“Tae, I want to hold your face,” you asked softly.

He complied, and you placed your hands on his face, your thumbs gently caressing his cheeks. Taehyung closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath.

“Tae,” you said. He opened his eyes and looked directly at you. “When I hold your face like this, I feel like I’m holding my world. You are everything to me.”

Taehyung was left speechless, his eyes shining with emotion. He leaned in to kiss you, a kiss full of love and gratitude.

The night continued with more games, laughter, and confessions, but your declaration remained etched in Taehyung’s heart.

JEON JUNGKOOK

It was a sunny and hot summer day, perfect for a trip to the water park. You and Jungkook decided to spend your day off together, seeking moments of fun and relaxation. The park was filled with families, children laughing, and adults cooling off in the various water attractions.

After going down the colorful slides several times and enjoying some laughs in the wave pool, you decided to explore the lazy river. You grabbed inflatable rafts and let yourselves be carried by the calm, refreshing current. The sun shone brightly, reflecting off the water and creating little sparkles that danced around you.

With your wet hair and radiant eyes, you looked at Jungkook while holding onto the edge of his raft. He smiled back, feeling a tranquil happiness that only a perfect day like this could bring. The trees surrounding the lazy river provided shade, creating a pleasant contrast to the heat of the day.

As you floated along, you talked about everything and nothing, laughing at the little things and sharing secrets. The sound of the flowing water and the laughter in the background created a gentle symphony that filled the air.

Suddenly, you stopped talking and moved closer to Jungkook. With a gentle motion, you cradled his face in your hands, your eyes meeting his in an intense and affectionate gaze. He was surprised by the sudden action but returned the look, feeling the warmth of your hands on his skin.

“Kookie,” you said softly, with a smile that lit up your face. “I’m holding my world.”

He blinked, not immediately understanding. “What do you mean?”

“You are my world,” you explained, still holding his face. “When I touch you, I feel like I’m holding everything that’s important to me. You are my happiness, my peace, my love. And being here with you, on a perfect day like this, makes me feel like I need nothing else.”

Jungkook felt a wave of emotion wash over him. Your words touched his heart in a deep and unexpected way. He held your hands, still on his face, and leaned in, giving you a soft kiss.

“I feel the same way, (Y/N),” he said, looking into your eyes with tenderness. “You mean everything to me.”

You stayed like that for a moment, just looking at each other, feeling the deep and sincere connection you shared. The world around seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you, floating together in the lazy river of the water park, holding your worlds in your hands.

[kirkwhore]

Type O Negative: VIP Treatment

You've been following Type O Negative on tour, and tonight you get luckier than you ever dreamed.

CW: unprotected piv (wrap it before u tap it, friends!), fem!reader, exhibitionism, degradation, overstimulation, dubcon (everyone is drunk), fingering, use of y/n

word count: 1.8k

18+ ONLY (MINORS SCRAM)

You went to the concert knowing in your gut that something about tonight would be different. You’d been following Type O Negative on their tour for the past four months, and you could swear that Peter Steele was singing right to you at every show. You had locked eyes with him several times during “Love You to Death”, and he had actually winked at you during “Be My Druidess.” At least, you thought so.

You were beginning to feel delusional… until he beckoned you toward the stage during their last number. It was like walking through a dream – you felt like you were floating through the crowd, never taking your eyes off of him. Peter met you in the crowd and gently lifted your face with a finger under your chin. He recited the poem in “Haunted” to you alone. You could feel other women glaring daggers at your back, but you didn’t care. Nothing existed outside of him. You felt yourself leaning into him, completely dazed.

He kissed you in front of everyone. There was a hunger behind the kiss that promised more.

Before returning to the stage, he leaned down and spoke softly into your ear.

“Meet me backstage.” Just those three words, but they were enough to send you running through the sea of witnesses to the best night of your life.

You were playing with a strand of your hair nervously when you heard the screams. The show was over. Peter was headed your way at last.

He grabbed your hand without a word and led you back to the green room with the rest of the band.

They all relaxed back on the plush couches while you stood in the doorway, frozen in awe.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” he purred.

“Y/n,” you replied, voice trembling. This had to be a fucking dream; there was no way this was actually happening. Right?

“Y/n. What a beautiful name.” The way it rolled off his tongue like velvet made your thighs clench involuntarily. He gestured for you to come closer.

“Come. Sit.” He was pointing at his lap. Your face felt hot and you were embarrassed by the smirks of the other guys, but you complied anyway. Your short skirt didn’t cover your ass when you sat down and you could feel his stiff cock pulsing against the thin fabric of your panties. The wetness pooling between your thighs threatened to stain his pants. With every deep, rumbling laugh, you felt your pussy clenching around nothing, leaving you with a desparate need to be filled up. It was agony to have to sit still for so long, making polite conversation. Peter knew exactly what he was doing to you, and he made every excuse to fidget and press himself into your ass even harder. The more wine you drank, the more confident you felt. You wanted to tease him back, rocking your hips ever so slightly against his length. You felt strong fingers dig into your hips; a hiss of pleasure escaped his lips.

Peter lifted you to your feet.

“Take them off,” he commanded. “Your panties, give them to Kenny.” You could feel the blush creeping up your neck as both humiliation and pleasure fought for dominance in your body.

“I –”

“Is there a problem?” he said, cocking his head to one side.

“N-no,” you stuttered, your heart pounding. You slowly rolled the waistband of your panties down, exposing yourself to Peter as you bent to free them from your legs. He swiped one deft finger between your folds before you could straighten up. A moan bubbled from your throat before you could stop it. The men laughed as you tentatively handed over your underwear.

When you turned back around, you were shocked to find him naked already, beckoning you back over.

“Don’t take your eyes off of me when your back is to them, and do what you’re told. Think you can do that?” It was a simple question but your reply was trapped in your throat.

“You can always back out, you know,” Peter said more softly. “Don’t let me make you feel trapped.” As much stage fright as you were feeling, you realized that you actually wanted them to watch you be used like a useless fucktoy.

“No, I can do this,” you replied, voice trembling again.

“Good girl.” His smile was all the encouragement you needed. “Now, get on your knees. Wanna see how pretty you look gagging on my cock.” He started slow, easing his way between your lips. You swirled your tongue around the head, lapping up the salty pre-cum leaking from his tip. Peter growled and pushed himself deeper, rougher this time. You really did gag then, and tears stung your eyes. That seemed to turn him on more, and he tangled your hair in his fingers, guiding you back and forth as he fucked your face. You could hear skin slapping in the background. The rest of the bandmates were jacking off. Their moans made your pussy clench even harder.

Once he was done making your mascara run in rivers down your cheeks, Peter dragged you to your feet by your hair and spun you to look at the others. He pushed your skirt up and ripped your shirt open, exposing you to them.

“Isn’t she so pretty?” Peter tugged at your nipples hard, pinching them between his fingers, sending a ripple of pleasure and pain through your body. “And so wet for us, too. Such a fucking slut.” He pulled you down onto his lap once more, spreading your legs wide to give the guys a front row seat to your dripping cunt as he fingered you. The sounds that ripped out of you were animalistic and filthy. You would’ve been humiliated if you weren’t so fucking turned on.

Just when you were on the precipice of falling apart, Peter’s relentless assault on your clit stopped abruptly. You whined, wanting to cry at the sudden lack of stimulation. He laughed, watching you thrust your hips against the air pathetically. He forced you to gag on his thick fingers covered in your slick while you watched one of the others masturbate into your panties. Someone had already finished in them. You could see the pearly cum sliding down the gusset.

You were once again lifted to your feet and whirled around to face Peter before he pushed you backwards onto the couch. He climbed on top of you, caging your face in with his bulging forearms.

“I’m gonna make you cum over and over until you can no longer speak, y/n. But only if you keep those beautiful eyes on me, remember?” His pupils were dilated with lust. He looked like a supernatural creature in that moment, more vampire than man. You could only nod. Your heart was in your throat as he leaned down to press passionate kisses into your neck. Your legs were hiked up over his shoulders, and he slowly, slowly pressed his cock into your heat. You had seen that issue of Playgirl, so you knew he was big… but a picture didn’t do it justice. Feeling him stretch you out was a euphoria like no other. It was certainly worth the pain that came with it. Your moans became screams as he hit that spot deep inside that made you see stars. You wanted so badly to close your eyes, but he held your face in one hand and you knew there would be consequences to looking away. He was panting openmouthed over you, and his friends were moaning your name. The sound of Peter’s balls slapping into you and the unholy noise your cunt was making filled the room.

“Fuck, I’m gonna -” you tried to warn him, but your senses were leaving you. “fuckfuckFUCK I’m gonna cum,” you spat just before the tightly wound coil deep inside snapped, releasing a flood. That was a first – you’d never squirted before. You squeezed tightly around him, and he grunted out your name before you felt him paint your insides with his cum. You were both a sticky mess but he didn’t stop.

“Want me to make you feel good again, baby?” Peter whispered sweetly like he wasn’t using you for his friends’ amusement. You tried to nod but he held your head in place. “No. Use your words.”

“Yes, yes please,” you whined, bearing down on him in desperation. He turned to his friends and laughed.

“Y/n wants to keep going. You wanna see her tits bounce?” The subsequent wolf whistles gave him his answer. You were a puppet in his arms – pliant, obedient. You let him flip you onto your hands and knees.

“Everyone got a good view?” Peter asked. The enthusiastic cheering was all he needed. He plunged back into you and grabbed your hips for leverage, using you like a fleshlight. Your tits hurt from the force of his thrusts, slapping your chest with every bounce. It wasn’t long before you had your second orgasm. Your body went slack. You were tired, thirsty, and overstimulated. Peter chased his release and came inside again. You tried to remember if you had taken your birth control this morning, but your head was so fuzzy from the wine and the pleasure that you couldn’t even remember your own name.

He moaned again before addressing his audience. “Fuck, she’s so tight. And all mine, too.” All his? Your brain slammed back into reality. Suddenly you felt sober. It was only all you had dreamed of since you were an obsessed teen. You turned to look back at him.

He reached out to stroke your mascara-stained cheek. “You like that? Well, if you keep following us on tour, you can be. But just me and you next time – if you’d prefer.” Before you could reply, he slipped out of you. You eyed the soaked panties that had made their way onto the coffee table. The guys were finished with them. You moved to pull your clothes back on, but Peter’s nimble fingers stopped you.

“You have a good time?”

You answered enthusiastically, wanting to please him enough for him to keep you around.

“We’re not done yet, then. That’s not what I promised – until you can’t speak, remember?” He pulled you back down as the others filed out of the room. Peter laughed as you gave in; it sent a shiver down your spine. On his command, you knelt in front of him.

It was nearly sunrise when the cab pulled up to take you home. You ached all over, but you had never felt more alive – or more giddy – in your life. You had earned that VIP pass, and you intended to use it over and over and over again

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

hi!!! i love all your writings🫶 youre the best

can i request reader x sleep token first date?

sending love! ♥️

Thank you for your kind words, lovie. Also… Stop, i love this…

Vessel

This guy would come up with something so specific and I’m saying that with love. So, I picture him taking you to an art gallery or a museum of sorts. Something he’s passionate about. And he’s giving you your private tour with the most random facts and getting all shy about telling them. “You’ll think it’s stupid”, he would chuckle under his breath. “No, come on, I want to hear it”, your hand would reach for his as you stepped closer.

“Did you know that Dalí once arrived at a lecture in a deep-sea diving suit?”, he says in one breath. You blink at him before letting out a chuckle, “What?”. Vessel just nods, “It’s a metaphor like… a deep dive into the subconscious”, he nods along, glancing at the painting. “That’s…”, you breathe out. “Weird I know, I’m sorry…”, he cringes slightly feeling as if he might have ruined his shot. “No, so fucking interesting”, you chime in, “How do you know that?”, and here you are actual excitement on your face, a completely different reaction as to what Vess had expected. “I just read… a lot”, he chuckles with a shrug. “Okay what about this painter”, you point at yet another painting, Vessel squeezes your hand ever so slightly as you move along, “Oh, you’re in for a treat with this one”, he chuckles under his breath as he dives into yet another story.

III

A random fair, a market, or some vintage pop up at the city center on a sunny Saturday. That’s the vibe. He wants it casual. Not one to make a big deal about it and don’t get me wrong when I say that. He just wants it to feel natural. Wants it to blend into the life he lives. Wants to share his fun spots instead of sitting in front of a table full of plates.

Also, bigger crowds mean that he can hold your hand the whole time or even better, drape a hand over your shoulders as he pulls you closer to him.

“That’s nice”, you point to a vase, already full of dried flowers. “You like that?”, he would hum, stopping to assess what caught your eye. “I have a table that’s screaming for something like this”, you tilt your head slightly. “And you said that you like green”, iii adds making you turn to him. “You remember”, smiling you reach out to lace your finger through his. “Baby, I remember everything you say to me”, he shrugs smirking slightly, “All up here, ready to be put to good use”, he taps against his temple.

“Flirt”, you push against his chest slightly, shaking your head. “Got to bring my A game if I want to win the dream girl”, he leans in brushing a kiss onto your cheek. “Hey, we will take the vase, any chance you can wrap up the flowers too?”, he’s turning to the guy in the stand, with a smile before you can say anything word.

II

His place. He’s cooking. A button-up. Slightly undone. Sleeves rolled up. Tatts peaking. Salivating yet? I am.

No, but he would want something intimate. I feel like the date would come up a nice while of you just being friends. So he knows you and feels okay with bringing you into his space. Is he shitting fucking bricks before that? Hell yeah. The man was on his knees the night prior scrubbing the fucking floor and making sure everything looked perfect.

“I hope it is edible”, he chuckles under his breath as he pulls the baking dish out of the oven. “I’m sure it’s lovely, it smells wonderful”, you smile at him, twirling the wine in your glass. “I had my mom up on Facetime all morning”, he chuckles, “She lost faith in me midway”, that gets you both laughing. And you can’t help but feel your heart swell just by the thought of him wanting to go that extra mile for you.

“And here I was thinking it was you alone to praise”, you shake your head. It lets out a slight groan, “Can’t say praise when a man is handling hot pans, love, dangerous”, he shakes his head playfully, “Now off to the table you go”, he urges you with a nod. “Yeah, chef”, you salute him, making him reach out to you as he moves his hand onto your side, tickling you, making you let out a squeal as you laugh.

IV

For ages. And I mean for ages, I have it set in my brain that this man would take you out on a sunset date. Maybe a seaside one or somewhere more out of the city, a little hike to watch it all. He would have a big backpack on. A nice blanket there with some snacks to share, maybe a drink. All you get to carry is a second blanket, one that didn’t fit in the bag, one he brought for you because he knows that you get cold quickly, one you had to drag out of his hands because he insisted on carrying it.

“I go on hikes here with my dog”, he mutters as you two walk through the lush greenery. “You have a dog? Why didn’t you tell me?”, you let out a slight squeak, making Ivy chuckle, “Careful, I might turn into that annoying parent that spends the whole time talking about their kid”. You join him as you giggle yourself, “The crime is that you didn’t bring him”, you shake your head. “She’s a girl”, Ivy corrects you politely. “And he’s also a girl Dad”, you throw your head back.

“Careful”, he’s quick to steady your step as you trip slightly over the root. “Look at me already quite literally falling for you”, you mutter. “I rather you fall internally not literally even if I would bandage you up”, he shrugs. “Aren’t you a charmer”, you shake your head, “Dinosaur plasters?”, you ask pointing a finger at him. Ivy only laughs, “You got it”.

[mylevisdontfitanymore]

I hear you want to write but are having a hard time answering prompts. Don't feel obligated to answer this one either, this is free labor, you never have too!!!! But maybe it would help by giving you a free space. What's eating at you [pun intended hehe]?

Me and this anon be like:

You are so thoughtful, thank you! ❤️❤️❤️

And you know what has been eating at me 😂 for whatever reason, I have no idea what turned me onto this idea, or why I can't stop thinking about it but there is something about the idea of completely, entirely spoiled Bucky that's been heavy on my mind.

Unbeta'd stucky belly kink under the read more, complete with lots and lots of stuffing, weight gain, and teasing/fat-shaming, too.

I'm talking about silver-spoon, generationally wealthy Bucky. He never has known what it is to want, yanno? Everything he could ever dream of, he gets immediately. He's never had a job other than learning what fork to use during meal times and which to use during dessert.

He looks like Wakanda, Jesus Bucky in spirit.

His hair is lush and shiny but his is proper, high-society style. So, it's cropped short at the sides and marginally longer at the top, coiffed back into stylish, fluffy waves. His face is clean-shaven, not beared, but his skin still glows and his marble-carved bone structure has been filled out by good food and constant pampering. He's always in the latest fashion, too. He looks the part of his high-maintenance, rich lifestyle.

When he was a kid and then a teenager it was totally fine that he fit so, so well into his lavish upbringing - including his taste for excessively sweet food and excessive amounts of food - because he had a speedy metabolism and the whimsy of a child, always running through his parent's expansive mansion or spending hours in the endless, deep green lawns playing by himself or roping one of the servents or his tutor into his games. His parents always were too busy with their socializing to raise their own messy child, instead passing responsibility off to someone, anyone else.

For a while, Bucky also took an interest in polocrosse, so he stayed slim for his elegant, equestrian sport. Loping through open, well-manicured fields on horseback, going after the ball with his racquet. But, as he grows and matures into a snooty young adult, with his twenties comes a slowing of his hummingbird metabolism and a boredom of sport. He has more important, more luxurious, relaxing activities to attend to than riding some beast that he doesn't even pick up after or care for - that's what the help is for. Besides, the medals mean nothing to him. He knows he's deserving and is a blue-ribbon winner without the physical reminders. Naturally, it's in his genes, he may as well be a hot-blooded, thoroughbred himself.

Bucky's metabolism slows and his activity level wanes but neither can be said about his appetite - not slowing, nor waning.

His hunger was one of those wants he's always, always had met through his generational wealth. His dire want for sweets. When he was younger, he always got a slap on the wrist for gorging himself on sugary sweets - pastries, candy, and the like - but never truly punished. His love affair wasn't tamed no matter how often he "spoiled" his own dinner, charming the cooks to feed him more than he needed, secretly getting their driver to go and retrieve him something from the city's candy shop, or even simply tiptoeing into the well-stocked pantry at night to give himself a tummy ache.

Now, his appetite is insatiable and he is growing more and more unfit seemingly like the hour. All because his days aren't spent working - he's never had to lift a finger for anything - but, instead, his hours are filled to the brim (and then some) with wine tastings, occasional tours of the winery grounds, cheese samplings, fine dining reservations or world-class chefs inhabiting his home for a few nights, and more. As soon as he's allowed by Mommy and Daddy, he moves off the sprawling family property to buy his own. He comes in and sweeps up a swath of land, putting a huge, pretty house on it and filling the rooms with staff. Most of the time, he doesn't leave his home. His driver's chauffeur experts in drink and food back and forth, bringing waves of delicious, expensive delicacies straight to Bucky's beautiful abode from the private airport nearby.

He. is. spoiled.

As he grows, he becomes rich fat, not poor fat - which becomes an important, prideful distinction in Bucky's spoiled, snobby mind. He is high society. He is well taken care of. So, of course, he's large.

Rich fat is fat that's undeniably plump and round with perfect curves. Rolls. Pale and smooth. No cellulite. No stretch marks. No blemishes. Just milky, pale swells of flesh that are soft but still firm and high. Something of a cherub straight from a masterful Renaissance painting.

His body tells the truth of his life - he doesn't lift a finger. He's practically a Roman Emperor, lounging on his side, draped in a sheet that barely fits over his bulging, excessive curves, fed the finest wine and offered peeled grapes that he lazily consumes until he's so full and drunk that he has to stop his servants by lifting a dainty hand, breathily moaning. No more. He can't take anymore now, he's so full that his fat, normally plush, soft belly has swelled to be as firm as a drum. But... give it an hour and he'll be snapping his fingers, rolled onto his back, under the weight of his belly, needing more. He won't even bother to get back up unless his servants help him, at that point, all he wants is more.

Always more.

Bucky becomes so insatiable with his life of luxury orbiting his round belly (rapidly transforming to be so large and spherical that it might be its own planet with a gravitational pull, keeping his hands to it at all times, unable to stop rubbing and touching his big body), that he hires someone new to live on his estate with him.

A masseuse.

Bucky becomes accustomed to eating until he feels fit to pop, stuffing down delicacies as if they're commonplace. Then, when he's so achingly tight, it's only natural to crave hands on his belly. He needs all the help digesting that he can get on a steady diet of peeled grapes, chocolate-coated strawberries, and other delicate fruits alongside the finest cheeses in paper-thin slices (but so many of those slices that he may as well have eaten the entire wheel by biting hunks off rudely) paired with jam and honey and bread and meats cured and prepared just so, plus bubbly champagne to wash it all down. That excessive diet leaves his tummy churning, groaning, and gassy. He has to stifle his burps behind one hand while the other works to soothe himself - it's instinctive, those rubbing motions.

Working? Aching? That just won't do. Bucky isn't dumb enough to expend energy when he doesn't have to. His private education afforded him better common sense. And he often goes to the spa, so he's familiar with massages. One plus one is two. Bucky needs a masseuse to rub his belly.

His masseuse is a tall, broad man - muscular and handsome with bright blue eyes and blonde hair. He has a pleasantly pale complexion with freckles but his nose that like it's been broken once or twice, bumped in the middle, and his hands are certainly the hands of a working man. He has obviously worked hard to get where he is with veins obvious in his arms and the backs of his hands and callouses on his palms. Even with all the lotion and oils, his hands are just the slightest bit rough thanks to those callouses.

If he weren't so handsome and hadn't proved himself to be so good at his job, Bucky might not keep him around. Thoughtlessly he could fire him, or any of his staff, and hire someone else.

Bucky doesn't like anything rough. He likes simple, easy, and luxurious. He likes softness. He reclines in overstuffed chairs and couches, expensive and sink-into-the-softness, and sleeps (and eats) on a perfectly swallowing-up bed. His body is currently being transformed into the same type of sensation - plush, soft, overstuffed. He likes that. He's becoming as excessive as his lifestyle - shaped perfectly for it.

He doesn't enjoy roughness.

He doesn't enjoy the bit of resentment on his masseuse's face and weaved secretly into his voice when they first meet.

Steve is a good worker, though, and Bucky appreciates that. He's accustomed to throwing money around, but he only throws it when it's what he wants or something he needs that he's having done his way. If a gardener, cook, or tailor doesn't work as fast or as hard as Bucky thinks they ought to - they're gone. Simple as that.

Steve works hard, Steve works fast, Steve is... interesting. He doesn't approve of Bucky's lifestyle, that much is clear, so he must need the money. But also, he doesn't complain. Not really. He does tease Bucky, though. It seems they both know their differences and there's something there. Something exciting. They both have their tastes and the clash of their differing tastes becomes electric.

Bucky learns to enjoy a little bit of roughness because of Steve.

Steve is called in to support Bucky either nearing the end of a massive meal or after his meal has been finished. His job title is "masseuse" and he does massage Bucky but, just, one part of him -

His belly.

His job is to aid Bucky's body in digesting after a splurge... if you can call his gorging meals and oversized snacks that happen every day, multiple times a day like clockwork "splurges." Splurging implies you don't do it all the time. Bucky is consistently stuffed to the gills. The only time he's not full is when he wakes up, first thing in the morning, and that's not always a guarantee - Bucky has gotten especially fat recently, it's why he needs Steve, and now, he can't always make it through the night without a snack. If he needs one, he snaps his fingers or rings the little bell he keeps by his bedside, rousing his live-in servants and making them retrieve a "light" snack for him from the kitchen. If he's had a midnight snack, his belly might still be firm and bloated when he wakes up. Regardless, Steve helps settle his belly.

At first, when Steve was hired, he did his job without comment. Now that they know each other a little better and each of them is rubbing off on the other with Bucky enjoying a little bit of roughness and Steve learning to embrace comfort and a taste of luxury - now, Steve prods and pushes verbally while he does the same physically. He rubs big circles on his big tummy, presses into the parts where he's the tightest to release pockets of gas and make him more comfortable, giving him more room (that he often immediately fills with more food), and kneads his soft flesh, using lotion and oil to keep his flesh supple and stretch-mark free. He lets his mouth run, too.

In low tones, just for the two of them to hear, he murmurs roughly about how he's never had so much to work with. Bucky knows under those sugar-coated words, he's calling him fat. Then, he goes on to say that Bucky feels especially tense today, is there anything particular on his mind? That's Steve telling him he's bloated as fuck, just a bit of sting behind his "polite" tone to communicate, oh my fucking god, you're a blimp. Or, he asks how his tailor is doing, the vague way to ask how he fits into any clothes at all. It's a damn mystery to Steve, after all, he only ever sees Bucky when he's naked with all of his soft, pale, thick fat on display. Round. Firm. Ready to be massaged until he's not so tight he could burst which, to Bucky, means he's ravenous. Bucky has no understanding of hunger. He doesn't remember what it's like to be empty, so when he isn't gasping in pleasure and pain, so full that his stomach is strained and there's food packed into him all the way up his esophagus to the back of his throat, he thinks he's starving.

Bucky savors those comments in a way he doesn't savor food - he just shoves it down. More.

More.

Bucky starts eating even more, pushing himself further, to make sure he can see Steve regularly. Weirdly, for someone who's never needed a damn thing from anyone else, he aches to impress this guy. It's strange, how much he wants to preen and parade around. He makes even more of a gluttonous mess of himself just so Steve can come in and berate him underneath his professional, light tone. It's embarrassing. Bucky has never been able to deal with humiliation or shame or anything other than resounding acceptance because of his high status, so it's strange for him to go after it now but...

God, is it good.

Steve commenting on needing another set of hands to reach and work on all of Bucky's glutted tummy sends a shiver down his pinned spine in spirit, in reality, he can't fucking move. He's so fat. Bucky almost moans at the thought of more hands groping and kneading his fat, working his cramps and burps out of him, easing the way for those calories to smoothly transform into more fat but, strangely, he only wants Steve to do this. He's used to hiring more help, having so many people around him, watching and aiding him in even the most intimate, private moments. This feels too intimate to share, though. He just wants Steve's big, strong, rough hands on his fat. He wants it bad. So, of course, he gets it.

He feasts on multiple rich, large courses. Steve massages him. He snacks on foods that would be enough for a meal if he were anyone else. Steve massages him. He gorges until he's hiccuping, whining, and curled around his fat belly like he can hold himself together, preventing himself from bursting at the seams with too much, too good of food. Steve massages him. He wakes up, belly gurgling with digestion that he can delude into being hunger, so he stuffs himself late at night into early morning. Steve massages him. Steve massages him through it all, witnessing him at his fullest and watching, judging, as he packs on more and more weight.

Bucky has been drilled to follow etiquette and be polite, but with Steve, he slips. He's just so full. And Steve's so good at his job. He can't deny himself the pleasure of moaning and burping loudly as Steve works.

"Buuuurpp-"

"Hic! Ah! Oh! Hic! Ouch! Hic! Hup! Oww!"

"Ooooohhh, yess. That's good."

"Uuuuuuurp!"

"Yes! Right there, press there, it's so tight, oh, oww-"

"Hnnnn-"

"M-mmmph- more. More pressure. Yes! Like that! Oh-uuurp!"

"C-cahhh, careful, I'm, oof, I'm soo full. Mmngh, I might - hic! - pop!"

Steve might disguise his interest well under a judgy, almost resentful exterior - which is truthfully how he felt when he got here, like, look at this fat asshole, Steve grew up struggling with a single mother making tough decisions between feeding her child, buying the medicine her child needed badly, or keeping the heating on to keep her child from getting sicker, no good options and no compromises - but he is interested. Bucky is miles and miles of plush flesh that jiggles and ripples. So much for Steve to sink his hands into. He's just fat. That's all he is. Greedy and oversized. He deserves a little shit for it. It's fine. He can squeeze a little harder than necessary, he can relentlessly push down on the part of his tummy that hurts the most just to hear him groan through a painful yet releasing burp, he can see his face pinch in pain when Steve goads him into finishing the last scraps on his plate despite having called Steve in expressed because he's too full for more, he can make comments about how he's getting fatter, bigger, and more spoiled. He can snidely inquire if Bucky has gotten his bed reinforced yet or wonder out loud how his personal tailor keeps up with his expanding waistline, actually, how does his tailor measure his waistline these days? Does he have to make a custom tailors tape or have they given up on numbers by now? He can pretend to be a little weaker than he is, just for an excuse to call the other staff into Bucky's master bedroom, "needing" help with rolling his big, voluptuous body or sitting him up as much as possible under that heavy, fat belly that overflows his lap.

It's fine for Steve to look over his shoulder as he leaves, his job well done, to smirk like a shark at one food-drunk Bucky moaning through a bite of buttery, flaky pastry, telling him off, "haven't you had enough, Mr. Barnes?"

He's the only one willing to challenge Bucky. The other staffers suck in shocked breaths and duck their heads, embarrassed and trying to stay out of the way, assuming Steve's about to be fired. It's going to get ugly. Right?

But it doesn't.

Bucky likes it. His stomach is groaning - only barely soothed thanks to Steve, complaining with heavy sloshes, deep gurgles, and loud glorps - but Bucky doesn't care. All he cares about is more. More food, stuffing his gob. More of Steve's merciless touch, his mean words, and his judgemental eyebrows. More.

"Nu-uh," Bucky moans petulantly.

"Only you would think that," Steve's eyes flick down to his gut like the big, round thing is offensive, "isn't enough."

Bucky crams the rest of his pastry into his mouth, puffing out his cheeks and dusting crumbs down his double (closer to triple) chins and heaving moobs, it's a challenge.

Steve rises to it, stepping back into his bedroom to slap his blubbery belly hard.

Even though all the others have scuffled away, leaving the two of them alone, they must be able to hear the clap of his hand against his fat. That, or, they hear the guttural way Bucky moans. His white, pale flesh is stamped red with Steve's handprint.

"You just have to ruin my work, don't you?" Steve sneers, sitting on the side of the bed next to Bucky's immobilized form of rolls and curves, pinned in place by too much fattening, sugary food. "Nothing is ever good enough for you, so you just keep going, don't you? You're gonna pop, you know that, you fat, spoiled brat? You need to learn you have limits. You need to learn restraint. If you don't learn your lesson by yourself, you'll force my hand to teach it." Steve threatens, his hand raised again, on the cusp of slapping his tender, overstuffed tummy again.

Bucky whimpers, pouting at him, his bottom lip crumby and stuck far out, "don't need your help," he argues, mumbling, just to be contrary. He really does need him. He wants him too. So badly.

"You do, princess. You need me whether you like it or not," Steve teases. "You can't do anything by yourself, not with this-" Steve rears back to slap his belly hard a handful of times until Bucky's whimpering and squirming around like a turtle flipped onto its shell, inelegant and stuck "-in the way."

Bucky moans loudly. It hurts! But it hurts like it does when he pushes himself over his limits, his gut too full.

"I'm gonna put you on a diet," Steve threatens, "teach your spoiled, fat ass what restraint and hard work is the way Daddy and Mommy didn't, they just shoved a silver spoon in your mouth and called it a day 'cause you shut up."

It's terrible. It's awful. Bucky likes it.

"Please-!" The word falls out of Bucky's mouth for maybe the first time. He's Bucky Barnes. He doesn't beg. He has everything he wants and more! He's never had anything he had to plead for, he always just demands.

With one last hit right to the top of his belly, where the bulging is the worst, where he gets the tightest, Steve knows all too well, Steve leans in. His smile is all teeth. "Good boy," he rumbles, "that's a start. I might be able to whip you into shape after all, God knows you need some shape, too," he unkindly grabs a handful of fat, shaking it and thus sends jiggling ripples throughout Bucky's entire, fat body. He's all lard. "'Cause right now you're just a blob."

Bucky says it again, as it turns out, it feels good to say, "pleeease."

Steve gives him a dark look and despite what he was saying about shaping up and slimming down with a diet, he wastes no time reaching over to the tray of fine French pastries perched on Bucky's elegant nightstand, selecting one at random and shoving it into his face.

Bucky moans his way through every chew and swallow. With Steve's relentless force, massaging and now feeding, too, he's due for a growth spurt like he's never seen on his own. He's gonna outgrow his king-size bed in no time 🥵🥵

[ladamedusoif]

My Kiss, Only For You

The Thief x Museum Guide F!Reader - One Shot

Pairing: The Thief x Museum Guide F!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Rating: Explicit (18+; MDNI)

Content/warnings: oral (f receiving); theft (I mean, obviously); smut; did I mention theft; strong language

Summary: You've noticed a regular attendee on the guided tours you offer as part of your job at the museum - and one day, he decides to ask you for more information on a favourite exhibit.

Notes: I keep on getting sent to horny jail by @lunapascal and @julesonrecord. (P would be very disappointed in you two insisting on incarcerating me all the time.)

This time, for reasons I'm still not entirely sure about, I was sentenced to 'double jail' and have two punishment pieces to write to get myself free. This first one, chosen by @julesonrecord, involves The Thief (from the wine ads) and the prompt "stealing a kiss".

Please enjoy my first foray into writing smut about a (very sexy) man from an ad campaign.

I wrote this at like, 1am and am still worried there are sections I thought I wrote but that were actually happening in a dream. Bear that in mind as you read.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

“And we finish with the jewel - if you’ll permit me a little pun - of the collection, the remarkable Katarzyna’s Kiss ruby.”

The afternoon’s tour group is mostly teenagers on a school trip, and they couldn’t be less interested in the bright red gemstone illuminated in the case behind you if they tried. One of them lazily lifts their phone to snap a photo, apparently of the display. It’s only when you see them pouting for a selfie that you realise they’ve had a BeReal notification.

You keep going with the standard tour script, putting your heart into it as always. You notice a familiar face at the back of the group, listening attentively: a handsome, dark-eyed man you guess must be in his mid to late forties, who is a regular attendee of your tours in the museum. He seems to be particularly interested in the gemstones and jewellery collections, always turning up for those tours with a notebook and a random, specialist text on the subject. 

“The story behind this gemstone and its unusual name is that a seventeenth-century Polish princess supposedly fell in love with the apprentice to the court jeweller. Now, as you can imagine, in those days an apprentice jeweller would never be considered an appropriate match for a princess, and their love was doomed from the start.”

The handsome man smiles at you, eyes twinkling behind his spectacles. You offer a little smile in return, noticing how the museum lighting catches the attractive patches of grey in his sparse beard.

“The poor young apprentice had never kissed his princess, and not because he didn’t want to - they were afraid they would be caught in the carefully-monitored world of the court.” Your expression turns sad as you move to the next part. 

“One day, the young jeweller heard that his beloved was to be married - the next day, in fact. He was distraught. But when the princess woke on her wedding day, equally heartbroken, she found this ruby - so the story goes - in a gorgeous, handmade silver box, engraved with the words ‘My kiss, only for you’”.

One of the teenagers at the front yawns dramatically, setting the others off into fits of giggles. You sigh. “And that brings our tour to an end, I guess. Gift shop that way, toilets over there, if you want to find out more about the collections you can purchase a guidebook…”

Your voice trails as the group rapidly disperses. Only your handsome regular is left. You hadn’t noticed before how nicely dressed he is - not showy, not in the least, but his clothes have that unmistakable air of quality and expense. Today he’s wearing a dark green, beautifully cut casual jacket with a Nehru collar, combined with dark jeans and a pristine white grandfather shirt. 

“Thank you for a wonderful tour, as usual.” His voice is warm and low, a pleasing sound in the near-empty gallery. 

“Thank you,” you return the compliment. “You’re one of our regulars, aren’t you?”

He pushes his glasses up his nose and nods. You notice he’s holding a small green notebook in one hand, and a pen in the other. “I must admit, though, that I prefer to go on your tours. You are a natural - truly, a joy to listen to. So knowledgeable!” He turns and looks at you out of the corner of his eye. “And, if you’ll forgive me for being forward, even lovelier to look at than Katarzyna’s Kiss.”

You raise your eyebrows. The closest thing to flirting you’d experienced in your time as a guide was when elderly men would corner you near the military history displays and wax lyrical at you about nineteenth-century battleships.

The man has moved closer, now, to you and to the display case. He appraises the ruby at close range. “I’d like to talk to you a little more about this beautiful thing - I’m fascinated by the story.” He turns and looks at you over the top of his glasses. “Would dinner tonight be a good time to talk about this kiss?”

To your surprise, he’d booked a table at the fanciest restaurant in the city. Dinner had been a delight, swapping stories of rare jewels and favourite galleries and museums around the world. 

He had changed since this afternoon, and arrived dressed in an exquisite green and black check suit with a black shirt and tie. He was attractive, there was no way around it - but you preferred to keep your guard up a little longer.

You were about to order a cab when you realised you didn’t have your phone.

“Shit. I must have left it in the office.” 

“It’s not too far away, is it?” He is the picture of concern. “I’ll gladly accompany you back to the museum.”

So he does, offering you his arm at one point like a man in an old movie. You huff a laugh at the gesture until you realise he’s serious. 

“Oh, god. I’m sorry.”

He keeps his arm out, offered to you, and smiles at you with an eyebrow raised. “Chivalry isn’t quite dead yet, ma chérie.”

Maybe it’s the sneaking into the museum after hours, with its connotations of illicit shenanigans, maybe it’s the whiskey you had after dinner, or maybe it’s just the way his suit sits so perfectly over his broad frame, as if it’s begging to be touched and clung to. 

Whatever it is, you’ve barely entered your small office when you’re pushing him against the wall and kissing him like your life depends on it. He groans into your mouth and it goes straight to your pussy. 

He guides you back onto the desk and sits you on the edge, lowering you down carefully as he stands above you. He trails a long, thick finger across the neckline of your dress, slipping his fingertip under the fabric to trace the outline of your breasts.

You whine in pleasure and frustration as he kisses your body. 

“Tell me more about Katarzyna’s Kiss, beautiful. Do you believe the story?”

He keeps kissing as you talk, through the fabric of your dress down to your thighs, where he hitches up the skirt and encourages you to open your legs a little wider. You moan as you feel his fingers tracing up the inside of your thighs.

“I want to kiss you, mi amor, but I will only do so if you say the word.”

You nod frantically, all thoughts of the bright red ruby forgotten. 

He brings his torso down to meet yours, placing a soft, wet kiss to your lips. You hear the zipper of his pants come down and you know that he has taken his cock in his hand. With the other, he reaches past the top of your head, stretching his hand out along the desk and resting his fingers on the marass of papers and, you judge by the clicks going on behind you, your computer keyboard.

“Aren’t you going to kiss me again?” Your voice is heavy, confused. He’s kept one hand behind you, still resting on the keyboard, as he intersperses caressing and kissing your breasts with giving his cock a quick stroke.

“I am, chérie, be patient. The kiss I plan to steal now is more valuable than any ruby - tastes better, too.”

He drops to his knees and pulls your legs apart, dragging your panties down over your soft thighs and knees. He begins by literally kissing your cunt, placing soft, delicate kisses to the wet folds before his broad tongue strokes its way from your opening all the way to your clit. It elicits a muffled scream from you.

“You can’t be there already, beautiful thing.” You aren’t, but the way he’s ‘kissing’ your pussy, then driving his fingers inside you, is getting you very close.

When he begins to suck your clit you feel the pressure building, and soon your slick is coating his perfect nose, his mouth, his face - and his beard. It glistens in the soft light of your desk lamp. 

“Fuck me,” you murmur quietly. 

“Not tonight, dear one,” he says as he returns to standing, zipping back up his pants. “Stay put, I’ll get something to clean you up. Where are the bathrooms?”

You point him towards them, unable to stand up just yet. He’s made you feel completely boneless, fucked out with just his mouth and fingers on your own desk. It had been a while since anyone made you come at all, let alone like that.

You realise you don’t even know his name.

And soon, you realise he’s been gone a rather long time.

The museum’s back corridors are unsettling at night. You wander up and down, calling quietly into the darkness to see if you can find him.

The wail of the siren is deafening as you race back to your office, frantically trying to log back in to check where the alarm has been triggered. You try to contact the night security team, but there’s no response. The screen eventually lights up and you see it: the Kiss ruby. That’s what they’re after.

Security arrives in the exhibition gallery a few minutes after you, leaving it to you to reveal the carefully opened case and the empty plastic clasp that once held the ruby on display.

Where was he? Did he get stuck in part of the building and panic when the alarm went off?

You reach into your pocket to find your phone before you remember you don’t even have his number. 

You find a crisp, folded piece of paper in your dress pocket. It had definitely not been there earlier.

You sneak off behind another display to open the note, before police arrived to question you. The handwriting is fanciful, rendered in pen and ink:

I have helped myself to Katarzyna’s, I’m afraid, but remember that the kiss I gave you tonight - my kiss - is only for you.

Adieu, chérie!

Your Gentleman Thief

[forwhatiam]

Happy 28th! <3 Here's my favorite fics I read this month, organized from longest to shortest. Fics with a * before them found their way into my bookmarks!

so let's cross the lines we lost by thecoloursneverfade (E, 165.2k)

Louis lives a not so quiet life on a not so quiet street. Starting university was supposed to be easy, that is, until he realises his new neighbour is Harry Styles, and they kind of hate each other, so falling for him is definitely out of the question.

(or: Harry and Louis have a complicated past, Niall throws too many parties, Zayn is definitely not pining, and Liam just wants everyone to get along)

*Undone, Undress by angelichl (E, 134k)

Louis' new roommate is shy, skittish, and flinches at the slightest sounds. He's an art major who gets drunk on cherry wine, wears lacy lingerie, and shows up late at night covered in bruises that blossom across his skin like flowers.

Obviously something is wrong. Louis just doesn't know what it is.

*Into The Blue by zarah5 (E, 117.2k)

AU. In which Louis is Harry's scuba instructor and quite happy to provide the requested special treatment, pun fully intended. It can't be all that difficult to convince Harry that they're on the same page, right? Also, Niall and Liam may or may not be dating, and Zayn is surrounded by emotionally stunted idiots. He bears it with dignity.

i want you so much (but i hate your guts) by becauselarry (E, 83.6k)

AU in which Louis gets accepted to play for the Manchester University Alpha-Beta Football Team. The only problem: Louis is actually an Omega. He is determined to make it big in the football world, though, and he can't do that bound to an Omega team. With the help of a faked doctor's certificate and some pretty strong suppressants he is ready to fight for his dream.

That Harry Styles (Alpha, second year and youngest football captain of the A-B team in ages) doesn't seem to like him complicates matters, though.

We'll Be Seamless by dinosaursmate (E, 52k)

Louis spends all his spare time scrolling arty nude blogs on Tumblr but amongst them all, Green is his favourite.

*Love's Truest Language by summerwine (E, 48.1k)

The first part was meant as a joke. He didn't really expect Harry to buy anything. It was just Louis’ way of softening the ‘get the fuck out’ blow.

“Where's your order forms, then?”

“I don't want your flowers.” Louis chided before directing all of his attention to the arrangement in front of him.

Harry laughed under his breath as he stood to his full height, “Who said anything about them being for you, love?”

under your bed in new york. by sleepylittlejupiter (T, 33.4k)

there are many things louis likes to tell himself. we broke up for a reason. it's been so many years. and of course, the classic: i’ve definitely moved on from him. but when he suddenly finds harry back in his life after three years, louis realizes he might be a little less moved on than he thought.

au; spilling coffee onto an ex, being set up on dates, and having a nosy puppy might be all louis needs to find love again

you are half of me (and I am all for you) by angelichl (E, 24.7k)

One Direction, an obscure indie rock band, is about to embark on their first cross-country tour, living out of Louis' beloved van named Patricia.

Harry is in love, and Louis is oblivious. Or is he?

Featuring skinny-dipping in Texas waterfalls, getting lost in the desert, stargazing under the New Mexico sky, performing in front of crowds that grow in size each night, and falling in love on the road during the greatest summer of their lives.

Dust to Dust by dinosaursmate (M, 23.4k)

Harry, an active participant in the One Direction Tumblr fandom, comes across a rumour that Louis died and has been replaced with a lookalike.

Hung Up On You by hazzahtomlinson (E, 11.8k)

Louis received a dick pick from a stranger and normally, he'd be completely furious at something like that-- except, whomever it was, had a super nice dick. If only the person attached to it hadn't turned out to be a complete asshole.

Same White Shirt by lululawrence (NR, 10k)

Or the one where Harry's on the Late Late Show for a week and several misunderstandings with a certain mouthy assistant James recently hired make things that much more interesting.

You Came Along And Moved Me, Honey by fairytalefemme (T, 8.3k)

Louis was gone for Harry from the moment they met, already planning their wedding and picking out rings in his head, and after months of living in each other's pockets they knew almost everything about each other. The one thing Louis didn't know about Harry was what he did for a living. Faced with vague answers and question-evading, Louis begins to imagine scandalous and dangerous secrets that Harry must be keeping - but maybe Harry's secrets aren't so sinister after all.

In which Louis thinks Harry's hiding a life of crime and Harry just really likes candles.

The Rose & Dagger by galastyles (E, 4.1k)

The first time Harry went to a session at The Rose And Dagger, he told himself it was a one time thing. The second time, he said it was to get the idea out of his system. By the fifth visit, he stopped making excuses.

i'm going out tonight by disgruntledkittenface (M, 3.8k)

Louis hasn’t been appreciating his boyfriend Harry. He only realizes it when Harry takes matters into his own hands.

Inspired by Bejeweled by Taylor Swift.

HOT TO GO! by allwaswell16 (T, 2.3k)

When Harry does something weird at the barricade, he leaves Louis’ show devastated and hoping he can somehow make things right.

Or the accidental pervert fic

[laurasblogs-stuff]

TOLERATE IT

(Peeta’s version)

In loving memory of this song being removed from The Eras Tour set list, I'm publishing this little thing I just finished to write. It is technically set after the 74th Hunger Games and during the victory tour, and from Peeta's point of view. Let me know what you think about it, be kind because it's the first time that i write something not in my first language :)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

I sit and watch you reading with your head low

We’re in the living room.

I don’t even know why I came here, I just wanted to bring your family bread, but I should have said no when Prim asked me to stay for dinner.

It isn’t right to have dinner with your family and forcing you to see me when you don’t have to.

Well, I guess it won’t be a problem, you barely lifted your head when I walked in.

You looked at me behind the book you’re pretending to read for half a second, you couldn’t manage to hold the eye contact even while mumbling ‘hi’.

Now I’m sitting on the opposite side of the couch; you’re just staring at the book in your hands and it’s so obvious that you would want to be anywhere but here right now.

I feel like throwing up.

I should have said no.

I wake and watch you breathing with your eyes closed

I take in a breath so violently that it seems like I was drowning.

I was, in my dream at least. I was underwater, I couldn’t breathe or speak, but the water was so clear that I could see you being mauled by mutts near the lake in the arena. I was trying to scream so hard, to distract them from you, but nothing came out.

I try to not let the tears that are flooding my eyes fall, attempt to adjust my respiration but managing to take just some shaky pathetic breaths.

I feel a weight on my chest: looking down I realize that is your head.

You’re sleeping so peacefully, and I realize you didn’t wake up this night yet.

The thought that I can help you do that makes me want to cry.

Instead, I try to focus on your steady breaths, on your hand that is slowly and involuntarily caressing my rib and on the little smile that is forming on your face.

I sit and watch you

And notice everything you do or don't do

You're so much older and wiser and I

We’re in district three. The last stop at the Capitol is getting closer and tonight you’ve barely eaten anything. I’m watching you dissecting your duck, without even faking to stab it with the fork. Considering that you would never waste food, it is very concerning.

I tentatively tap your knee, thinking I can comfort you, but you shove my hand away.

A fat man with green hair engages me in a conversation and I try to contain my tears while he’s going on about how cute we are together.

Half an hour later, I’m standing in a corner with some red wine in my right hand when I feel a tentative touch on my left wrist.

“Can we sneak out?”

I should say no, I should be mad at you for shutting me out earlier.

I’m resolute to do so, but then I look into your eyes and see pure desperation.

I’m taking too much time to answer, you’ve noticed I’m struggling, and I can see that your bottom lip is starting to tremble, even if slightly.

You’re slowly retracting your hand from my wrist and I really should say no, because I know what sneaking out means with you.

Instead, I grab your hand and lead you away from the crowd.

I wait by the door like I'm just a kid

I feel so stupid waiting here. You always make me wait, don’t you?

Maybe it’s because you know that you will always find me right here.

I know that tonight wasn’t easy for you, we’re just one day away from the Capitol and I shouldn’t blame you for how you’re treating me.

I take a glance at my watch and notice it’s almost midnight.

I feel like that time I was five, maybe four, waiting outside my mother’s room to give her a drawing. I hoped that would make her forgive me for not being able to carry the pans. I remember standing there for hours, with the piece of paper in my right hand and a burning cheek; she never opened the door.

Just as I’m starting to feel my eyes burning, probably because of the lack of sleep, I can hear your footsteps approaching the door.

Use my best colors for your portrait

I know you hate them.

I saw that in your eyes when I showed you my paintings.

I know it was mostly because they reminded you of the arena and your nightmares, but I can say almost for sure that you were not happy about the fact that you were in almost all of them.

I’m perfectly aware that you would hate what I’m working on right now, and I promised myself to never let you see it.

But I can’t help searching for the best colors to use for your hair, trying to imagine what they would look like outside, in the sun.

What colors your eyes would have if you smiled at me as if you really meant it.

Lay the table with the fancy shit

And watch you tolerate it

I’m really trying to make this dinner pleasant for you, I really am.

I know that you hate all of this: this enormous table, the stupid pink cloth on top of it, the unnecessary gold cutlery.

You’re clenching your fist around the knife while some lady with blue hair is explaining to me how they make jewelry here, and I’m listening along just so she won’t bother you.

She’s quite old, and she’s insistent while making me feel her necklace that is sitting just a little too low on her exposed cleavage.

I’m assuming that you’re not even aware of what’s happening when you let the gleaming knife drop on the plate.

The blue haired woman immediately drops my hand while directing her stunned look towards the source of disturbance, but you’re already standing up and dragging me with you on the dancefloor.

While we’re swinging on some soft notes, I brush your hair to the side and put my mouth close to your ear.

“What was that earlier? If you wanted to dance, you could just go.”

My tone is playful, but your expression isn’t when you look up at me. It’s clear that you’re hesitant about what to say, and your cheeks start to veer toward a light red while your brain is searching for the right words to use.

I begin to think that it decided to use no words at all, when I feel your hand slightly brushing my hair before answering me.

“I wanted you just for me.”

I feel the words tickle my neck, and they seem to give me a little more air to breath.

You look up at me just for a millisecond before diverting your eyes again.

“At least for a little while.”

[upontherisers]

who closed last night pt 2*

had two glasses of wine, an edible, and a dream apparently. nsfw under the cut

*with director’s commentary

this is self explanatory. she tries to drown him. it doesn’t work. she falls in love with a human and a man at that. she has teeth like a shark and likes to rescue books from wrecks. there’s a language barrier, he’s shirtless a lot, he thought being surrounded by sexy fish women would be fun but they actually just want to kill him. i only think it’s fun if he dies at the end tbh

i’ve wanted to do a fic with a funky format for awhile and i love those “gen z actors having no media training” comps on youtube so i think it’d be fun to watch whatever the fuck these two have going on through the eyes of fans who watch izzy’s tour diaries that she makes for each week of LatL first world tour (which is called World Tour One. the second will be called World Tour Two or the Second World Tour. they think they’re sooo funny).

highlights will include: rosie rosenthal standing awkwardly at the green room coffee maker while mahalia and bucky get in a fight, izzy and gale trying to open the video louder than the sound of mahalia and bucky arguing in the background, and clips of them generally being insane about personal space and touch

also self explanatory. they also might get a cat but miss “pets are dirty and gross” seems to change her tone when her little guy comes waddling into the room with his ears dragging on the ground.

injured soccer star!mahalia and team physio!bucky bump into each other at a bar. she acts like she smokes, he actually does, and it’s not an HR violation if she’s not technically playing at the moment, right?

mahalia and the boys play the world’s most psychosexual version of threesome chicken.

[foxes-that-run]

Little Freak

Did you dress up for Halloween? Little Freak is a sweet song, Harry is thinking about an ex and looking at the relationship with distance. It has many references to Taylor. It was written when he was in Tokyo Oct-Dec 2018. Taylor had her last Reputation concert 21 November, 2018 in Tokyo.

Little Freak was written on bad rental gear, he said it went through 19 versions before finally being on Harry's House. Ophelia is possibly written at the same time, it references Tokyo. TBSL is similar, references Taylor in a similar way, but Harry said it was written in Bath later.

To Howard Stern, Harry said if a song didn't make a previous album why would it make this one, however noted 2 songs on Harry's House are older, but they fit sonically on the album. There is another great post here.

Lyrics

Little freak, Jezebel You sit high atop the kitchen counter Stay green a little while You bring blue lights to dreams

Jezabel is possibly a reference to 'Slut!' Taylor also references this line in the opening of the Bejewelled MV "the prince would not have anything to do with that Harlot again."

Harry references kitchens in Haylor songs Sunflower Vol 6 (kiss in the kitchen), Two Ghosts (fridge light washes the room white), here it is a device to remember a calm intimacy with his muse

A Blue film is an adult film, the last line is a wet dream.

Starry haze, crystal ball Somehow, you've become some paranoia A wet dream just dangling But your gift is wasted on me

The starry haze, crystal ball is a reference to the Ready for it...? MV. Which is about Harry, he also referenced it in To be so Lonely. Ready for it also references a sexual dream "In the middle of the night, in my dreams (eh) / You should see the things we do (we do), baby" It was an impressive tour open too.

The paranoia refers to the complicated nature of their relationship (Fine Line, DBATC) he is asked about her a lot and while their songs imply they interact, they are almost never seen together so they may work hard at that.

The wet dream, just dangling, to me means unfinished business with her that he doesn't know how to resolve.

He feels her musical gifts are wasted on him, (they aren't Harry, you're the best muse)

This producer video comments on the use of a Linn drum machine as something Jack Antonoff uses on Taylor Swifts songs. (26:30)

I was thinkin' about who you are Your delicate point of view, I Was thinkin' about you I'm not worried about where you are Or who you will go home to, I'm Just thinkin' about you

This verse refers to another Haylor Reputation song, Delicate, which also tells of sexual tension. However, here Harry uses the song title to flatter her and adds that he is not feeling possessive, just thinking of her.

Did you dress up for Halloween? I spilt beer on your friend, I'm not sorry A golf swing and a trampoline Maybe we'll do this again

This verse refers to Taylor and has links back to their time dating.

Taylor does dress up for halloween, like this 2014 1989-era Pegacorn. Harry and Taylor were also both in Tokyo a few weeks after Halloween

The spilt beer is often thought to be this photo of him with Karlie Kloss on a fashion persons yacht. It looks like water in front of him but I like to imagine this is it.

Blank Space MV Taylor took a golf club to a classic luxury car. Harry has many nice classic cars. In the Red era when they first dated Taylor had a trampoline on her tennis court and it also featured in the 22 MV.

in the close he asks maybe we'll do this again, I interpret that as maybe be together again one day. Olivia, WITW and Someday maybe have similar messages.

Tracksuit and a ponytail You hide the body all that yoga gave you Red wine and a ginger ale But you would make fun of me, for sure

Above I have a grab from Miss American, which was filmed during the Rep tour, in most of the back stage, home or recording scenes she is wearing a variation on a tracksuit and ponytail.

Red wine and ginger ale mixed is a seltzer type drink, here it is an 'easter egg' as there are red wine references in a lot of Haylor songs: DBATC (My time, my wine..), Clean (You're still all over me like a wine-stained dress I can't wear anymore), Maroon (The burgundy on my T-shirt when you splashed your wine into me), Olivia (This isn't the stain of a red wine, I'm bleeding love) and Grapejuice ("Give me something old and red")

I disrespected you Jumped in feet first, and I landed too hard A broken ankle, karma rules You never saw my birthmark

In the last verse Harry has started reflecting on how things ended, he acknowledges he disrespected Taylor. This may refer to the time in Now that we don't talk.

Harry broke his foot playing football while on tour in Ireland in October 2015, this is close to the time period in NTWDT, Harry includes a reference to Karma, Taylors maybe album, evential song from that time period.

Harry has a birthmark on his back so many think this means he has and will never turn his back on her. (I have seen another fandom say this means they were not intimate, dude- strangers on the internet can link to it)

to me the birthmark is not literal, I think she never saw his full self because of his age & the band. He spoke to both Howard Stern and Zane Lowe about all of his adult decisions being made as part of a group from 16-20. It was in a context of leaving One Direction. To me this emotional coasting (he says he was 'away' in TBSL) was a factor in the events of NTWDT and Is it over now?

But both of these are true, he won’t turn his back on her and he wasn’t his full self then.

[christinescupofcoffee]

master list of most things i’ve written

🔥 — nsfw 🩸 — violent *** — not on ao3/not online (yet) italics are wip/incomplete as of writing

fanfiction

metallica

have your cake and eat it 🔥

the girls next door 🔥

anthrax

now it’s dark 🩸🔥 | who cares wins 🔥 | be all, end all 🩸🔥 | time is coming

black diamonds 🩸

dreaming of you | up all night

amped and wired 🩸 | comic 🩸🔥

six feet under | buried alive

burning sacramento 🩸

thalassaphobia 🩸

testament

fever in, fever out | sunburn 🔥 | vapor trails 🔥

cold embrace 🔥🩸 | eerie inhabitants 🔥🩸

xenon dreams 🔥

love is not enough 🔥

flowers for alexander

chave do mar 🔥

blood & chocolate 🩸🔥 | blood & wine 🔥

porcelain 🔥

as the seasons grey 🔥 | dark roots of earth 🔥 | alone in the dark | the roaring forties

pearl jam

nothing as it seems

top gear + the grand tour

throughout the dark months of april and may 🩸

i’m afraid of americans***

figure skating

rain (complete on my thumb drive, just haven’t been able to post all of it 😅) 🩸

crossovers

painted in a corner (soundgarden, stone temple pilots, alice in chains, metallica) 🔥

the artist (metallica, anthrax, alice in chains, foo fighters, pearl jam, soundgarden) 🔥

the dead of night (anthrax, rush)

the contest (soundgarden, alice in chains, metallica) 🔥

gray ghost (testament/savatage, deftones, korn)

without a paddle (foo fighters, green day, a series of unfortunate events)

dead man walking (testament, trans-siberian orchestra, anthrax, type o negative) 🩸

like blood from a stone (testament, death, anthrax, metallica, death angel) 🩸🔥

the skeleton key (testament/metal allegiance, jerry cantrell) 🔥

the confectioner’s tale (testament, type o negative, soundgarden)

kink events

kinktober 2022 “eclipse” 🔥

kinkmas 2022 “black moon” 🔥

fuckuary 2023 “paraselenae” 🔥

kinktober 2024 “tijuana sunrise” 🔥 | “the hungry lion throws itself on the antelope” 🔥 | “paradise” 🔥

high holidays into hanukkah 2024 “midnight oil” 🔥 | iron & incense

short stories from other fandoms

roots bloody roots (skinwalker ranch)

original fiction

short stories

earth’s new clothes

pretty boy fille

the suicide of kelly baker

just one fix

i’m a baker (poem)

lie to me (poem)

in another life (poem)

vermouth (poem)

just desserts (blood) (poem)

marigold (poem)

thwaites glacier (poem)

the scorpion ladies chronicles

highly venomous sex goddesses straight out of a pulp fiction!

bikini atoll merfolk

after the radioactive cloud of the 40s and 50s has settled, evolution kicks in. sci-fi fantasy.

the lagoon***

house of ill-repute

two half-brothers embroiled in family drama. black comedy, emphasis on comedy—began life as short stories written in my dorm way back in 2012, then came back two years later as a class project.

the idiots*** 🩸

novel length stories

black rain (science fiction, coming of age, courtroom drama) 🩸

quarter after twelve (science fiction, satire) 🔥🩸

[imwriting0verhere]

Love Again

Chapter 6

Keep lying, keep lying to me Just keep lying, keep lying to me Don't go fucking with my fantasy Keep lying to me

Feed me your fiction Give me just one taste to sustain this addiction Blissful affliction I'll swallow your poison 'til it runs through my veins Fills my heart with deception Twists my perception

Baby I've known lonely So let me down now slowly You know me Tell me I'm your only Even if it hurts

Keep lying, keep lying to me Just keep lying, keep lying to me Don't go fucking with my fantasy Keep lying to me

Tell me a story Let's make believe If you're lying, I'll listen Say it through your teeth Make me a prison and throw away the key 'Cause I know what I'm missing is better than nothing

Baby I've known lonely So let me down now slowly You know me Tell me I'm your only Tell me I'm your only, no

Baby I've known lonely, yeah Let me down now slowly You owe me Tell me I'm your only Even if it hurts

Keep lying, keep lying to me Just keep lying, keep lying to me Don't go fucking with my fantasy Keep lying to me

Keep lying, keep lying to me Just keep lying, keep lying to me, oh Don't go fucking with my fantasy Keep lying to me, oh (keep lying)

'Cause baby I've known lonely, yeah Let me down now slowly (keep lying) And tell me I'm your only Even if it hurts

As the last notes of our final song ring through the room I look out into the crowd again. With the biggest smile on my face I speak into the microphone again “Thank you all so much for being here tonight. Amsterdam, what an incredible first show!” I blow a kiss and wave at the screaming crowd before exiting the stage and waiting for my girls to follow.

I am overwhelmed and so full of adrenaline, I feel like I could go right back out there and play for another hour. I turn towards my band as they have made their way backstage now as well and immediately start screaming and pulling them all into a big group hug.

“We did it, we just played a fantastic first show!” I say elated. We’re all jumping up and down and doing happy dances, I can see it in their faces too, the joy and adrenaline of the night.

“Yes, we did babes!” Kelley shouts and pulls me into another side hug, impossible to contain her excitement.

“I love you guys so much, I’m so grateful to have you on this journey with me” I tell them after a few moments. The emotions taking over me. “Alright, Y/N is already getting soppy on us. Let’s go to the green room and have a proper celebration or else there will be tears soon” Donna cackles and starts to stir me into the direction of the green room where our manager as well as part of our team and some friends are waiting for us to celebrate an incredible opening night.

“Okay okay I won’t start crying just yet. I’m way too happy right now” I laugh at her and put my arm around her waist, until we reach our destination and I open the door, the other girls right behind us. As soon as we enter the room we get pulled into more hugs and congratulatory affections. Glasses of sparkling wine are being passed around the group and very quickly the room fills with chatter and laughter and it’s such a warm and wonderful atmosphere.

The night went on and before we know it, we’re back on the tour bus on our way to the next location. Kelley, Margot and Jasmin have made their way into the bunk beds about an hour ago. It is now 2am and I’m still sat on the little sofa on the bus, Donna next to me as we’re both snuggled under a blanket.

Donna was the first person I ever really told about my dream of being a musician. I met her in high school and we became fast friends as we both loved writing songs and creating melodies. Over the years she had stuck to playing the drums, whereas I preferred the guitar and piano. As soon as the idea of forming my own band had nestled itself inside my head, I knew she would have to be a part of it. And she instantly accepted and was my main counterpart of the group. That was followed by Margot our violinist and keyboard/beat player, Jasmin our bassist and Donna’s younger sister Kelley who plays main guitar.

She yawns next to me and I can feel her sitting up slowly. ”Ugh, alright my love, I’m gonna go lie down now” she groans in a sleepy voice and stands up from the couch. “You coming?”

“Not yet, uhm, I still have to make a phone call…Or I might just make it a text. I don’t know yet” I smile at her tiredly.

“Okay but don’t be too long, we need you in excellent condition tomorrow” she winks at me and blows me a kiss before she disappears up the stairs to get to her bed.

I let out a sigh and stretch my legs out all the way onto the seat Donna has just occupied. I think back to the events of the night again and cherish this happy feeling that has settled in my chest ever since I first stepped foot on stage tonight.

With that feeling, I grab my phone and open my recent caller list. Seeing Sam’s name right at the top.

I kept thinking back to what happened earlier on the bus, right before he called me. And to be honest. Sam has been on my mind all day since then. I long to talk to him and so I don’t even hesitate to press his number and hold the phone to my ear.

I get hopeless the longer it rings, and once his voicemail gets activated I end the call frustrated and just stare at my phone.

“Okay, a text message it is then” I say to myself and go to open our text chain.

Hey, I just wanted to let you know tonight went really well and we’re back on the bus now on our way to Brussels. I’m sorry we couldn’t talk properly earlier. Give me a call later and you can tell me what you meant to say earlier? I hope you’re well Sam. Good night x  

Getting up from the sofa now as well, I take my phone and make my way up the stairs and into the small bathroom to get ready for bed. As I finally lie down in bed I check my phone and scroll on social media for another 10 to 15 minutes. As I put my phone down and close my eyes to let sleep take over, my last thought is on Sam. And that I hope to see a text from him or get a call first thing in the morning so we can talk and start on a positive note after these last few weeks of silence.    

[des8pudels8kern]

I have returned from vacation!

It's been so. Good.

Madeira is gorgeous. Everything is green and growing, with different kinds of plants, depending on which side of the island and elevation you are. Even on the mountain tops, the yellow broom was in full bloom. The weather is unpredictable, but almost always a flavour of moderate. All of our tour guides made a point to explain that Madeira doesn't have one climate, but is a patchwork of micro-climates, so you can drive through one tunnel/over one ridge and suddenly it goes from windy, cloudy 19°C to calm, sunny 24°C (and the sun is strong - always wear sunscreen). The sea is gorgeous and you can see it from almost everywhere, albeit there are few opportunities to go for a swim as the coast is mostly cliffs and rocks.

We spent most of our time staying at a place in Funchal and doing organised tours and trips out of the city. Funchal itself has a bus system that makes it easy to get around town without a car. We did do a lot of walking, but you appreciate having an alternative to cover a distance of not even two kilometres by bus when it comes with a difference in height of 500 metres. Outside of Funchal... well, there are several bus companies, covering different parts of the island, but these overland buses only run a handful of times a day and most of the bus stops and schedules are impossible to find online. If you don't want to, or can't, rent a car, doing tours our of Funchal is by far your best option to see Madeira. We finished our vacation with two days in a smaller town up North, and, while ending with a few slow, chill days worked well for us, we were very limited in our options and actually had to use taxis.

Food has been a mixed bag for me. There is so much fresh produce growing all over the island, and the fruit is delicious, but restaurants and the ever-present snack bars focus almost exclusively on meat and fish. Funchal at least offers plenty of options for vegetarians, but even there I couldn't find a place with Madeiran vegetable dishes. I assume it's the same trend as everywhere else: The traditional vegetable dishes are/were poor people food and got sidelined with increased wealth. Either way, I was lucky to be a flexitarian who can eat bolo do caco or a chicken or ham sandwich rather than a proper vegetarian.

The Madeirans do like to drink. Poncha (Aguardente de Cana (white sugarcane rum), sugar, and fruit is everywhere, especially in the original Pescador (with lemon; the perfect drink to keep the fishermen warm at sea and ply them with Vitamin C to ward of scurvy) and Regional (lemon and orange; sweeter than Pescador for those soft city folks), plus Madeira wine, local beer, a very nice, refreshing local apple cider, and all kinds of different liquors, rums, and I even found Madeiran gin for my collection.

Also, I really want to go back (and ideally at a time when I've not been struggling with health problems for months prior and can do proper hikes). Usually, after a big vacation, I do a mental check mark next to that destination and start dreaming about where to go next time, but, yeah, Madeira is definitely worth a second visit.

[edupunkn00b]

Decoherence, Ch. 9: True Faith and Allegiance

Creative Commons 1.0, Public Domain

Prev - True Faith and Allegiance - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ] - Playlist

“I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same…” -United States Congressional Oath of Office

WC: 2112 - Rated: T - CW: swearing -

2035, April 9 - The White House, Washington, D.C., US

“Lo!” Remus shot up in bed, hand scrabbling at the cold, empty expanse next to him. “Lo?” he called again, louder, but the ensuite was dark, empty. He rushed to his closet, the lights automatically flicking on with his movement. His suits and dress shirts lined one rack, more casual clothes tucked neatly into their little cubbies along the other wall. 

“Lo?” he said one more time, quieter. Was it all a dream?

There was a sharp knock on the hidden door just before it opened and a Secret Service agent—Craig? No, Keith—stepped inside. “Mr. President? Are you alright? We heard shouting.”

“I’m fine, Keith, thank you,” Remus nodded, swallowing hard against the growing lump in his throat. It had felt so real. “Just a dream,” he smiled. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Very good, sir. Sorry to intrude,” he said and stepped back into the hall, closing the door behind him.

Both hands tracing the chain around his neck, Remus gently pulled it from under his pajama top and kissed the rings. They were warm to the touch, clinking quietly together in his shaking hands, and they shone under the bright closet lights. 

These rings were real. 

Lo was real. He had to be.

Lo’s voice echoed in his mind. “Find me, Meus… Find me…” Gold had glinted on his hand as he’d poured the wine. Their matching rings had clacked together when they’d held hands. It was real… real-ish, at least. The rings were real. 

He stood in front of the mirror, curls frizzed and sticking out from every which way on his head, eyes wild and he clung to the rings from his dream. 

His vision layered and he saw himself tucking two gold rings under his shirt. Under a bright green tank top, a worn and patched blue denim button down layered with a heavy leather apron. An open nehru collar, golden flowers stitched on green silk. A shirt and tie underneath a white lab coat emblazoned with CERN on the breast pocket.

It was all real.

The computer screen next to the closet door dinged and droned out the day’s agenda. Moving by rote, he let his hands ready himself for his jog, mind wandering through possibilities as he dressed. He needed more information and startling the Secret Service with out of the ordinary behavior was not the way to get it.

~

“Gladys,” he buzzed the intercom. “Can you gather my appointment books for the last six months, please?”

“Of course, Mr. President,” she chirped back, hesitancy in her voice. “Your calendar on your computer should be up to date, sir, if you wish to query it.”

“I… I know.” He’d already scoured the calendar for any mention of Lo. There’d been nothing. ‘Dr. Sanders’ floated through his mind, but he couldn’t find any Sanders or Lo named in any of his appointments. “The sign-in book sometimes has extra details. Assistants’ names, that sort of thing.”

“Understood,” she replied, clearly not understanding. But that was alright. It certainly wasn’t the first odd request he’d ever had, and likely wouldn’t be the last.

While he waited for her to gather the books from Archives, he paced the office, reciting his speech for the new Climate Accord ratification ceremony. He was due to tour the new flood plain outside San Francisco this afternoon, with Airforce One due to take off in three hours. He’d review as much as he could before the flight and, with any luck, might begin to unravel whatever the hell was going on.

2036, September 15 - London, England

Saturday dawned muggy and quiet.

Remus woke early, a swirl of thoughts pulling him in different directions from the moment he opened his eyes. He had the distinct sense of jet lag, but he’d finally drifted off at a reasonable hour the night before.

Shaking his head, he pulled himself out of bed and straightened the quilt before padding across the room to shower. The familiar space gradually cleared his mind and he moved automatically, stripping off his sleep shorts and quickly washing and conditioning his hair. He reached without looking for his face soap, wishing he could just as easily scrub away errant thoughts.

He stepped out of the shower and brushed his teeth, staring at himself in the mirrored cabinet. There were two doors. The right side had held his toothbrush, aftershave, and mustache wax. His hand shook as he opened the other side of the cabinet.

His toothbrush clattered to the basin.

The shelves were lined with familiar products. Another toothbrush. That vanilla spice pomade. A bottle of aftershave. An eyeglass repair kit.

Remus rinsed his mouth then pulled out the aftershave and uncapped it, breathing in the scent of cinnamon and sandalwood and vanilla. It was him. It was Lo’s. He was real, he’d been here. Carefully, reverently, he replaced the cap and moved to the wardrobe. It wasn’t until he’d caught sight of himself in the mirror that he realized he’d lost his gold chain.

Hand slapping his chest, his own gold ring sparkled. Remus stared down at his hand and touched the smooth gold band. If he was wearing his ring, where had Lo’s gone? 

One hand reached up and clawed at his neck where the chain had once been—had he worn it last night? He must’ve… He could feel it under his flannel pajama top. Without really thinking, he checked the hamper. But he hadn’t worn pajamas, just shorts. Too hot for that in their little flat with only a ceiling fan to keep it cool. 

Remus hurried back to the bed. He ripped off the quilt, feeling along the seams of the mattress, the pillow cases, the joints along the bed frame. He checked the floor and under the bed, retracing his steps between the closet and the main room.

Lo’s ring was gone.

He’d had two rings, hadn’t he?

He stared down at his hand. It looked right. A vague recollection of making a ‘practice’ ring for his brother and his partners flitted across his mind and he shook his head. 

Coffee. Everything would make more sense with a little coffee. He started toward the bedroom door and realized he hadn’t dressed, so he took a moment to straighten the quilt and pillows on the bed, the mundane action meditative, then opened the wardrobe.

His own clothes were there, familiar and worn.

But, impossibly, so were Lo’s. They weren’t labeled, of course, but… These were Lo’s. A rotating tie rack held a rainbow of colors, hanger after hanger of neatly pressed button down shirts and soft sweater vests. He stepped into the closet and pressed one to his face. It smelled like him.

Lo was real. So where the fuck was he?

Remus dressed quickly and hit the streets. Shoving his keys in his jacket pocket, his fingers brushed his phone screen. He yanked it out. Two missed calls.

Stabbing at the screen, he sighed, disappointment and guilt mixing when he saw it was his brother, and he checked his voicemail. Just Ro announcing they’d made it to the train station for their trip, then again just before they hit the trail to the cabin and lost cell service. Remus scrolled through his call history and found Lo’s contact. 

He was real. He was in his phone. Remus’ thumb shook as he tapped call, but the number went right to a generic voicemail greeting announcing the mailbox was full.

Sighing, Remus pocketed the phone and let his feet guide him down the quiet pavement.

~

Remus walked for hours, finally looking up when his grumbling stomach reminded him he’d skipped breakfast. He turned on the spot, working out just where he’d ended up. He’d passed a café down the street and the rich scents of freshly baked bread and syrupy coffee drinks grew stronger as he approached, likely the trigger of his sudden hunger.

He got a table outside and, after drinking half his coffee in one gulp, nursed the rest as he waited for his order. Foot traffic had picked up during his walk, and the quiet street had transformed around him into its typically bustling state.

Families filled the pavement, likely taking in a bit of fresh air before the late afternoon sun left the streets too balmy to breathe. A doting couple stopped in front of the hat shop—a haberdashery, Lo’s voice filled in—across the street, one turning to the other to straighten a skewed collar.

It hurt to watch, and Remus looked away, fuzzily scanning the opposite side of the street. His eyes snagged on a man at the far end, distinctive blue and grey Aldi’s vest tucked under one arm, eyeglasses barely visible, head down as he maneuvered through the busy walkway. But his raven hair was unmistakable.

Heedless of traffic, Remus stood and ran across the street, only vaguely registering a blaring car horn. He waved it away and stopped a dozen paces from the man.

“Lo—” he began but the man wore no recognition in his eyes and the splash of grey at his temples and lines around his mouth and forehead weren’t Lo's. Remus started to turn away, but then remembered. “Wait—you’re the guy at the store.”

The man—his name badge said ‘Luke’—looked him up and down and shook his head. “Yeah, I don’t know you,” he said, side stepping him and continuing on his way.

“Please, wait!” Remus called after him, stopping short when a large group of young tweens poured out of the Daiso shop next to him, chattering about their purchases. “Wait, Luke, please, do you know—”

He wormed his way through the gaggle of laughing children but by the time he’d cleared the throng, Luke was nowhere to be seen. Moving more carefully this time, he crossed back to the café and reclaimed his seat. Dreams clashed with reality but Remus was now more certain than ever Lo really was out there.

He just had to find him.

1838, August 21 - Wyoming, United States

“Knock, knock, knock,” Ro called from the other side of the heavy bottom half of Remus’ barn-turned-workshop door. He unlatched the little hook and pushed it open, hinges creaking. With a peal of laughter, Virge dashed into the room ahead of him, a flash of denim and grasses clutched in his hand. 

“Uncka Re! Wook wha’ I made!” Virge announced proudly, tugging his sleeve and drawing him closer to the big workbench in the center of the barn.

Remus pulled off his smoke-lensed visor and lifted his newly four-year-old nephew up onto a stool. “Well, look at that,” he murmured, tilting his head at the hay-stuffed doll Virgil walked across the worn wooden surface. “May I?” he asked, hefting the toy in his palm.

“Poppy he’ped me put sand in his tummy and feet and hands so he’d sit,” he grinned, clapping briefly when Remus sat him up against a roll of spectrometry paper. The doll sported big eyes, dark blue dots with wide circles drawn around them in the shaky hand of a four-year-old still learning to write.

“He’s wonderful, Virge,” Remus ruffled his hair with a smile. “What’s his name?”

Virgil laughed up at him, his tiny face scrunched adorably. “Unka Woe!” He pointed at the circles around the doll’s eyes. “See? Those are his g’asses!”

“What?” Remus’ wrench hit the floor, narrowly missing his toe and taking a big bite out of the packed dirt floor. “What’d y’say?” 

“Hey, Vee,” Ro crouched down and met Virgil’s eyes. “What’s this little guy’s name?”

The little boy’s smile wavered as he looked between his uncle and his dad. “He’s my friend,” he finally said, plucking up the doll and hugging it close before curling into Ro’s arms. He tucked his chin over Ro’s shoulder and watched Remus’ expression.

“Oh, you’re all tuckered out from running your foals, aren’t you?” Ro cooed. “How about we get a little supper into you and then call it a night, yeah?”

He nodded against his dad’s shoulder, nervous eyes following Remus’. “Y’can ho’d him,” he whispered and pushed the doll into Remus’ hands. Virge smiled and wiggled the doll in his hands. “He says ‘It’s supper time.’” 

“Come, now, Meus…” Lo’s laughter fills my mind. “The dynamo needs to charge. You worked through the midday… It's supper time.”

“Oh, really?” I pull off the smoked visor and tiptoe closer, swooping in at the last moment to scoop Lo up into my arms. He’s warm and solid and melts into my hold like he was meant to be there. “Only if you come along with me!”

“I reckon he does,” Remus nodded, ruffling Virge’s hair. “Lead the way!”

[shoyoackerman]

University Student Kuroko Tetsuya HC

University student Kuroko whose studying psychology and study of classics (Ancient Greek) They’re heavy content subjects but he loves a challenge is enjoys being in class and learning.

He would like to work as a museum curator! when he was younger his grandma, Kiyoko, would take him every weekend to the museum. he fell in love and has so many fond memories associated with the place.

Nobody would believe it by looking at him but Kuroko has the highest tolerance of alcohol out of everyone. Could go through bottles of vodka like water and he’s not even affected. The only thing that gets him tipsy is absinthe.

Yes, the green fairy, deaths kiss itself, the one drink everyone doesn’t even dream of touching. Yet Kuroko loves it. In his apartment he has one single row on his shelf just dedicated to absinthe 😭

(Kagami can’t drink for shit. like he has one single beer and he’s white girl wasted)

(Aomine is a wine mum. He hates alcohol except WINE. He’s a classy man and he loves a good Shiraz. Jokes when he’s poor he will be repping a goon bag around his shoulder)

Now, since high school, Kuroko did a lot of soul searching. No seriously he graduated a year early (because he’s smart asf and he used to have Akashi tutor him back at Teiko) and he went travelling.

WHERE DID HE GO?

New Zealand, specifically Queenstown. And what did he do? He worked part time as a waiter at a farm that would do tours. He would travel by boat every morning and afternoon. He loved it. The scenery, the people and being able to be seen by everyone. It helped boost his self-confidence a lot.

Kuroko travelled a lot (he comes from a rich family they have a stained relationship. So they just throw money at him to compensate not being there for him when he was growing up) he went to as many different counties as possible. Would pick up the language and would essentially be taken in by the locals.

But I’m getting off track.

Kuroko shares an apartment with Kagami and Aomine. No, don’t ask why he ever agreed to that. Seriously don’t. Top ten dumbest moments of his life ever.

He loves his friends…a lot ;)

But god, he cannot handle being the peacekeeper between the two. Aomine who doesn’t know when to stop teasing Kagami. And Kagami who still doesn’t know when to not let Aomine get a rise outta him.

But he’s stuck with them, unfortunately. (No really he’s stuck because he already signed his name on the lease and he basically pays for most of the rent and he would essentially be making the two dumbasses homeless)

Anyway, Kuroko is a smoker! Or well, he used to be. Or is is trying not to be. It’s hard habit for him to quit. And yes! Yes Kuroko was once the person who ABHORRED smoking. Would always throw water on Aomine back in middle school when he would try and smoke. (He did it to be cool, but he always hacked like an idiot and he hated the taste so it never stuck)

Kuroko however. Well, he started smoking when Kiyoko died. His beloved grandma, the person who was basically his mother and father. The who raised him and moulded him into the person he is today.

He was packing away her things, since he was moving out of the house and into the apartment with his loser best friends, he found her case of cigarettes. She was an occasional smoker but she did stop for the sake Kuroko who would give her his puppy eyes. Because ‘grandma you can’t die and leave me alone’

which well…

he took the case with him, sleek and rose coloured with intricate flower designs on the front with the family name ‘Kuroko’ engraved in cursive. He kept it with him at all times, he doesn’t know why. He just. He felt closer to her when he had it with him.

It was after the funeral, he was alone sitting on the balcony. pulling out the case and looking at the cigarettes before lighting one up and taking a drag.

(Yeah he choked. Throat burned, his lungs screaming at him and his eyes watering. It was the pain. Just the pain of the smoke nothing else)

It eventually became a habit, he would smoke when he was stressed. Which was a lot when he was majoring in psychology and classics. And when he was roommates with Kagami and Aomine.

He smoked when he was angry, when he was hungry and when he was bored. When he was drinking. It eventually became a daily thing.

And because of this new bad habit his fiends staged an intervention. Because like ‘c’mon tetsu you’re the same guy who burned my porn mags because it was rotting my brain!’

And Kuroko did eventually. Slowly. Very infinitesimally did he eventually give up on smoking. Although everyone stayed clear of him during the first couple weeks of him going cold turkey.

Which is why you will find him sucking on a lollipop. He tried finding vanilla flavoured ones but they always tasted like cough medicine so he switched up cherry. His now second favourite flavour.

Kuroko actually went through a lot of different methods when he was trying to give up. He tried chewing gum but he constantly was thinking about how he was chewing his own spit.

He tried replacing it with plain ole black coffee but he hates coffee unless it was overly sweet and at least had five tablespoons of sugar.

Kuroko also tried the uh, fault in your stars method. Yeah that didn’t work. He left them a very long one star review on google.

And so sucking on a lollipop became the easiest way to help him break his cancer inducing habit. But in return he now has a sweet tooth and candy is his new addiction.

VIOLINIST KUROKO. GOD YES.

Growing up his parents forced him into lessons. It was very surprising actually that Kuroko and Akashi never met before Teiko, their parents were basically in the same friends of friends of friends group.

But anyway, Kuroko was put into violin lessons. He hated it at first because he wanted to be out playing basketball. But he did eventually love it. He just kept up the disdained attitude in front of his parents because he was extremely petty like that. What can you say, his blank stare started very young 🤧

Kuroko didn’t really advertise that he knew how to play instruments. He wasn’t hiding it that’s for sure but you know he was the kind of person that wouldn’t say anything unless explicitly asked about it.

Anyway, they were strolling through campus when they saw some people recording a tik tok, asking students that if they could play a random instrument they’d win money. Kagami and Aomine dragged him over because hey, they were the generation of miracles it can’t be hard to play some instrument right (‘Aomine you skipped music to read porn mags on the roof’)

(Aomine actually knows how to play the bass! but he didn’t get that instrument he got a trumpet…he did not get any money)

(Kagami is tone deaf. No money for this man)

AND SO, when it was Kurokos turn…he got the violin as his instrument. Kagami and Aomine groaned and picked up their bags to leave, no free ramen today…

WHAT IS THAT MELODY!?

They turn around to see Kuroko fucking shredding the shit out of the violin. The phantom six man looking up at them as he plays with that smug ass grin.

Jaws fucking dropped because what the actually fuck Kuroko you never said you could play an instrument let alone the violin!?!

(They win the money and they eat ramen with the two pestering Kuroko about how long he’s played for, what he can play and why he never told them…‘ you never asked’ *sucks vanilla milkshake obnoxiously*

Which will undoubtedly make Aomine pick Kuroko up, lift him over his shoulder and run back to the music rooms so they can jam together and be totally platonic best friends as they stare into each other’s eyes and finger fuck their respective instrument with the sauciest bed room eyes ever.

(Kagami staring at the bill they left him, because the money Kuroko won does not cover the mountain food him and Aomine eat. He does a dine and dash and never comes back again…he does eventually feel guilty about running out so he sends them a box of the owed amount of money + tip)

Which also then leads to Aomine finding out that…Kuroko can…play…the…electric guitar as well…

(He can barely contain his hormones from jumping a sweaty Kuroko as he plays the neighbourhood, wishing those fingers were inside of hi-)

After that riveting new information (no seriously both Aomine and Kagami woke up from a wild sex dream and sat in silence at the dining table as they sipped on orange juice…’so his fingers’…’yeah’

Everyone else also found out from the miracle group chat, Seirin group chat, the im in love with Kuroko group chat, the group chat without kise. Basically everyone knew about his ability to finger instruments like a god ‘Aomine stop being a perv’

Tattoo enthusiast Kuroko. This boy has the biggest pain tolerance ever. All those times in middle school and high school where he was just knocked the fuck out and bleeding from the head. He would get back up like it was nothing.

Yeah Kuroko was able to sit through tattoos. Didn’t matter where he was getting it done he just didn’t flinch, just sat their as he read through his assigned book.

He has a whole tattoo that fills his back, probably his most expensive, longest and favourite one. He loves the design of the skeleton dragon. Was drawn to it, remembers Kagami being with him as he chose the tattoo.

Kuroko has a few other tattoos on his stomach, legs and arms. He keeps them covered when he’s working or at uni. But at home, out with friends, everyone can see the ink that stains his skin.

The tattoos were apart of finding himself. He never knew what type do person he was. Didn’t have a style or brand that scream him.

It’s why a lot of people are always surprised by the difference between him when he was younger and now. Kuroko was a awkward and had no real sense of style or personality since all his clothes since he was a baby had been chosen for him. As were his choices.

(basketball was the one thing he chose for himself)

Kuroko loved his tattoos. He also loved the dark academic style of clothing. Majority of his wardrobe was brown and neutral toned clothes. Which many would think would clash with his sky blue hair…but even that changed.

Kuroko, much like his name, dyed it black. With streaks of blue in his hair. He liked it. A lot. And so did other people.

*cough cough Aomine cough cough Kagami cough*

Yeah no, Kurokos presence seemed to like do a switch up. He was no longer ignored or looked over, no everyone would be looking at the extremely attractive stranger with porcelain skin and striking blue eyes. The one who was mysterious and talked about the most on campus.

He was no longer someone who needed to be forgotten. Kuroko did not need to hide his emotions. He was not a shadow. He was a light within his own right.

(Kagami had a identity crisis when he saw Kuroko grow out his hair. Actually that’s a lie, he had a sexuality crisis the moment he saw a pale yet muscular back get tattooed. Kurokos lidded eyes looking up at him curiously when he turned redder than his hair…’a-allergies’)

(Aomine was gone since middle school. Weak ass simp only became weaker when he found out about Kurokos tattoos and ability to play the electric guitar and violin)

Skateboarder Kuroko. Well he tries to 🤧 he wouldn’t say he was amazing. But it was something he picked up in his third year of middle school and just continued it. He liked the peace of skating, listening to music as he skated through the parks.

It’s actually how he met Hayama. Before they went against one another in the winter cup back in high school they first met at the skate park. Kuroko had watched as the boy skated on his hands. Why? He just felt more comfortable.

Thus started this weird little once a week meet up at the skatepark. They didn’t have to be anyone, not phantom man or the uncrowned king.

Just Kuroko and Hayama.

They continued to meet up even after beating them at the winter cup. Once Akashi was ‘himself’ again they would all hang out when they could. It’s how everyone found that that the two already knew each other.

This skating partnership lasted all the way up to uni. When they’re free and not busy dying from work or school they will pick a night, go out and skate until their legs burned and hands were all scratched.

Would skate to the nearest maji burger and talk about school and how everyone in their overly large group of fiends were doing.

(Kagami and Aomine hiding down in their seats because no they definitely weren’t stalking Kuroko because they wanted to know why he kept coming back bruised when he said nothing happened and were worried he was caught in shady dealings)

(Kuroko saw them hiding in the bushes at the skatepark. They are not slick. But he doesn’t call them on it, finding it endearingly sweet how they wanted to make sure he was okay…then again they were stalking…)

WOW this really was longer that expected. I actually have way more hcs for Kuroko (and everyone else) but these are just a few of them so far. I had a lot of fun making this heheh, I’m definitely gonna make a pt.2 for Kuroko and then do Kagami and Aomine <33

[singsweetmelodies]

tagged by the lovely @hrhgeorgerussell to share some random things about me 💗 thanks for the tag! 🥰

relationship status: en couple <3

favourite colour: red❤️ also, lilac purple and emerald green 👌

song stuck in my head: this is literally THE most random and weird one ever, but... Mary Did You Know, the Pentatonix version. (i had them on shuffle earlier because i love their harmonies, and my brain decided that's the one to fixate on, apparently 😆)

last song i listened to: Fool's Gold by One Direction 🌟

three favourite foods: ohhhh, it's always so tricky for me to say JUST three, and i feel like it also depends so much on my mood? but a good pizza is always up there, and also pasta, anytime always. oh my god, and a good old South African braai, with lamb chops and braaibroodjies 🙏🙏

last google: the touring schedule for this choir/singing group my friend runs

dream trip: Italy to watch the Monza Grand Prix ❤️ and then afterwards, travelling down the Italian coast with my girlfriend and having loads of gelato and pasta and wine and taking two hundred cliché couple pics at every single beautiful view <3

anything i want right now: i was talking about South African food earlier and now i CRAVE South African food... specifically pap en sous for some reason... 🥺🥺 i WANT. also, red wine, tbh. yes please 🍷

i have absolutely no idea who's already done this/been tagged, so i'm just going to list (with no pressure & apologies if i'm double-tagging) @boxboxbrioche, @welightitup, @duquesademiel, @river-ocean, @wolfiemcwolferson, @pinkierre, @yukierres and anyone else who feels like giving this a go <333