#grey and white picture of a couple dancing in the rain

[autistpride]

@chace-vito make me a new college to use so I can replace my lock screen with it?

you can tell a lot about someone based on their phone background. it shows what’s most important to them

[imaginethebeautifulworld]

I am weak for Emma, and I would absolutely die if you would write the prompt "If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more," with Austria. (◕д◕✿)

Of course you may, Lovely! I'm assuming this came from the Austen-Bronte Prompt list, and I sort of wrote it with that in mind.

Hope you enjoy!

​​Vienna was beautiful, even when the rain was falling in sheets, lights from shops and cafes playing off the creeping fog, the atmosphere cast in fragmented reds and blues and greys.

You sat above it all, the stilted whites, dingy yellows, and sharp oranges of passing traffic fading into the picture below, nameless drifters passing quietly past your perch like ships in the night.

You were uninterested in the lives playing out beyond your window, your head too clouded by dark thoughts and bitter memories, fragmented distortions which still left a bitter sting.

A familiar argument, incited this time by your pride, triggered by his own. It should been nothing more than a simple miscommunication, an easy resolution, yet-

“Your behavior was entirely unacceptable.”

He made you feel like a child, demeaned, degraded.

“You embarrassed me.”

His words repeated, over and over again, their poison yet to lose its potency.

You supposed, if nothing else, you could find comfort in the knowledge that he waited until you were both in the car to say such things. You weren’t sure how you could have composed yourself had he said any of it in front of his alleged “friends.”

Then again, this was Roderich; he wouldn’t dare be anything but composed while in public.

As if aware of your thoughts, you felt his presence behind you, a chill that had little to do with the thundershower settling more deeply beneath your skin.

He was quiet, thankfully, only hovered some distance away. But his presence was still enough, your nerves on edge from his proximity. “I was thinking about our discussion earlier.”

An ugly sound escaped you, your words coming out just as derisive as the scoff. “’Discussion’?” You turned to him with disbelief. “That’s what you’re calling it?”

“Dearest-”

“Austria.”

The formality gave him pause, a flicker of something you didn’t care to think about minutely creasing his features, marring that mask he was wearing even now. But it faded away, his next words far softer, a touch defeated, almost a tired exhale. “May I sit?”

You merely gestured to the remaining section of the window seat, though found you couldn’t look away from his profile.

He was watching the street below, expression unreadable. You studied him carefully for a few minutes, before finally turning your own attention back to the world beyond this, to the lives playing out beneath you.

A younger woman, rushing down the street to a waiting car. An older couple sharing an umbrella as they moved from a bookstore to the café right beside it. A teenager and what was likely their younger brother, dancing recklessly on the sidewalk, catching raindrops on their tongues, jumping in the scattered puddles.

There always seemed to be puddles, no matter how many times the city tried to fix this street.

It filled you with peace, the glimpse of Humanity, the steady threads of Life weaving constantly in-and-out, billions of stories sharing so many connections, yet not one of them exactly the same.

So why was it yours that had to be so troublesome?

You glanced at Roderich once more, frowning to yourself. For a while, you had wondered if it was worth it, if you should just move on, yet despite how angry you still were with him-

“I think I’ve forgotten how old I am.” His words surprised you, shaking you from your reverie, especially as his eyes hadn’t left the city below, a strained, bittersweet smile haunting him. “I’ve raised Empires and seen them fall; I’ve-”

He trailed off, his eyes narrowing, memories taking him to some distant realm you were almost sure you wouldn’t want to see. “I am so very old, Engel. And I have sacrificed so much over the years, compromised for too little. And all of it? For duty. For some alleged 'greater good.'”

His eyes flickered to yours, every layer of amethyst shining in the gloom, his glasses likely forgotten in the study again. “What I feel for you is more than I’ve felt for anyone in a long, long time. And I- I can’t let anyone suspect that you make me vulnerable. Darling, I..." He trailed off for a moment, the mask crumbling just a bit more. "I couldn’t bear the thought of sacrificing you, too.”

It was seemingly uncharacteristic of him, this level of earnestness, these moments where he dropped that pretense, the charade, gave you a glimpse of the fragile soul buried beneath the marble facade.

Whatever anger and resentment that had still been lingering dissipated with his words, dismissed as you recognized the apology buried deep within them. Your posture sagged, the burden of carrying so much bitterness finally leaving your shoulders, leaving you hollow.

"I just wish you would be this open with your bosses for once."

He hummed, a strained sound that almost shaped itself into a sardonic snort, his eyes once more flashing out to the rainy streets. "You're dreaming of an impossible world."

Oh, did you know it.

A Nation? Falling for someone so fragile as a human? It was the prelude to a tragedy, cursed from the start. The world was full of the wicked and corrupt, people who would do anything for a shred of influence, for even a drop of power. To have a Nation under one's sway-

It was an argument he repeated time and time again, one so familiar in its refrain that you could likely recite it word-for-word, note-for-note.

You sighed tiredly, a sound that brought his focus back to you, his palm resting on your knee, eyebrows furrowing in concern. "Darling?"

"Times have changed, my love."

His eyes studied yours carefully for a moment, likely seeking answers to a question you knew he would never ask. But clarity was never far behind, not for a mind as sharp as his own, his eyes narrowing slightly in the flickering remnants of his earlier agitation. "Not enough." Before you could reply, his anger was gone again, that secret softness melting all ice from his features. "Not yet."

It hurt more than you could voice, more than you were willing to reveal. There was buried the promise just as old as this disagreement, a vow to someday, one day-

You tried to turn away, but his palm had found your cheek, a gesture that seemed gentle in nature but only served to highlight how much of a hold he held over you; he offered barely a touch, yet you couldn't pull away.

"What is running through that head of yours?" he whispered, a slip you couldn't help suspecting was never meant to be spoken. His fingers were cool against your skin, a passing observation that almost made you smile; the old man never seemed to be warm enough.

But it was a passing thought, forgotten quickly in the moment, your thoughts, your focus, ensnared by a delicate touch and a heavy gaze.

Here, behind closed doors, hidden away from judgement and societal obligation, you could see everything he was, and you were breathless at the sight of it.

Yet, as beautiful as it was, as beautiful as he was, you were starting to wonder if it was truly enough, if you had made the right decision. He may have Eternity, but your life was fleeting; you couldn't spend your years waiting for a moment that may never come.

"When," you finally cracked, the weight of Time and the Unknown fracturing your resolve. You cleared your throat, steeled yourself once more. "When then, Roderich? I can't wait for you forever. I don't have that kind of luxury."

Something sharp sliced across his features, cold and cutting in the passing lightning. You nearly wrote it off as such- a distorted after-illusion of the fulmination, but his words only proved your observations correct. "So leave then."

He was suddenly so cold, so detached; in one fluid movement, he had withdrawn from you, his posture returning to formal rigidity, chin setting into an arrogant angle. He wasn't even looking at you anymore, the bastard, focus centered directly ahead, unwavering.

The embers of your earlier anger sparked menacingly, but you smothered it quickly, sensing the tension beneath the marble exterior, suspicious that there was a deeper reasoning for his behavior.

Heaven help you, he was exhausting sometimes.

You moved forward, resting your hand on his shoulder. "Even if I could, you should know by now that I won't."

The truth of it all was that even when he infuriated you, drove you mad, made you question every life decision which had led you to him, you knew there was no one else who could make you feel this way. There was no one who could so easily match you movement-for-movement, who could harmonize so perfectly with your very soul. He was complementary in every way you hadn't known you needed, and the thought of ever leaving him behind-

He chuckled softly, wrenching you from your musings, his head shaking before he was turning to you with a broken smile. "You really are too stubborn, my dear."

You frowned, unimpressed. "Look who's talking."

He hummed in agreement, his hand settling atop your own where it still rested at his shoulder. "Quite the pair we make."

All was quiet for a time, nothing but the rain’s unending song and the distant din of traffic piercing the silence.

For a moment, you could almost relax into it.

Almost, were it not for that voice still lingering in the back of your mind, still demanding recognition.

“I can’t keep waiting, Rod. I can’t keep pretending there’s nothing between us, not when-”

“I know, my love.” He cut you off with an exhale before turning back to you. “Do you know how difficult it is to pretend you’re nothing more than a passing fancy? To act as if you’re only-” He huffed, a note of that frustration resurfacing with it. “Do you know how badly I want to tell the whole world how I feel about you? How desperately I want to show them just how much I care for you?”

“Sweetheart…”

When he responded with your name, cracked and desperate, you couldn’t help the jolt that startled through your veins, the sensation only strengthened by the intensity of his gaze. “If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.”

His proclamation pierced through any defenses you could have tried to build up, struck true. You were weightless, yet somehow his words had grounded you firmly to the present.

The ghostly remnants of his earlier outburst continued to echo their haunting taunts, their chilled claws clinging still to your conscious.

But there was a gentle yearning in his gaze, a tenderness that tugged at your heartstrings. His eyes searched yours, his hand gently clasping your own, his expression softening minutely, words scarcely a whisper. “Please, dearest; I just need a little more time.”

I thank you for your patience with this one, Anon! I'm actually not a huge fan of Austria, so writing him was more of a challenge than I care to admit. I hope I did him justice though. ^_^;;;

Thanks for reading!

[literate-lamb]

Man of the House | three

Sam Wilson/fem!Reader, dark!Bucky Barnes/fem!Reader | 18+

A racket in the attic leads to a discovery of old memories. Your dissatisfaction leads you to a forgettable night.

► warnings(!): dubcon/noncon, asphyxiation. this is a dark fic.

|| Series Masterlist ||

A/N: This is it, lads. We’re picking up steam. And sorry for the delay, but I’m here to finally deliver. Thank you for the love lately on this story!

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕊𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟

The pitter patter of rain was a welcomed presence. They added to the serene ambience of the residence; sombre but comforting. While others would bemoan the absence of sunny days, you relished in the cool and comfort it brought. It gave ways to days under duvets and blankets, a book and warm drink in hand. Today, it brought coolness to the sweat as strands of hair clung to the temples. 

Napkin in hand, you wiped the respiration trickling down your chin, the cool air helping it dry off. Scanning the guest room, you were satisfied with the result. Floors mopped, surfaces wiped, sheets aired; the room was finally dust-free, perfect for accommodating guests.

Today marked the first week of your stay in the house. Your first week in the so-called haunted house. And one more week to go before you bag that $500 cheque. Take that, Tony.

Sam had left for the day, spending time with his college buddies at a bowling alley. He’d promised to cook you dinner when he came back, you looked forward to it.

The room was silent as you went back to work, stretching the sheets end to end, taut enough that a coin could bounce. And if the coin fell, hitting the floor, you were sure its ring would echo. The silence of the house when alone was deafening, saved for the small shower outside.

Suddenly feeling unsettled by the silence, you took out your phone. Opening your playlist, you played the first song you saw; Love by Nat King Cole. The music blared from the tiny speakers, flooding the room with the harmony of jazz.

You swayed and tapped to the beat of the cymbals, the saxophone aiding your show, all the while managing other meagre chores. You moved, feet light, across the hallway to the linen closet, taking extra sheets.

While fitting the sheets in the other guest room, that’s when your ears picked it. 

Tap. Tap. Tap. 

Among the symphony of rain and Nat King Cole’s swing baritone, you heard it; light footsteps, tapping to the rhythm of jazz, above you. The rain and sax almost drowned it out, but you could discern it between the others. 

You stopped your hands and listened on. The creaking was light but they were there, following a rhythm of sorts. It took you seconds to realize the steps were not random. They were following the rhythm of the music. 

They were dancing.

You let the music continue playing before it ended and changed to another track: Iron Maiden’s The Trooper.

The creaks stopped abruptly when Bruce Dickinson’s shout came through. Then, a sudden crash boomed your eardrums. Loud and heavy, like hardbound books falling off a shelf. It stilled for a moment before frantic meowing began.

“Peaches?”

The meows continued, high-pitched and desperate. You heard scuffling on the ceiling, probably the cat’s paws scratching the surface, desperate for help.

When the meowing went on for longer, you hurriedly left the room all the while huffing about the mischievous cat that you decided to keep. Pulling the built-in ladder at the end of the hall from above, you began climbing up. Peaches’ cries still echoed. 

Your footsteps caused dust particles to float, making you hack. Taking the space in, you noticed every single item was covered in white sheets, protecting them beneath. Some were tall, some broad, crowding the attic in a ghostly maze. A lone circular window laid ahead, opened, flooding the supposed dark space in natural light. A breeze from outside came through, chilling you.

It was serene, yet a little unsettling. If one didn’t know better, they would’ve mistaken the standing figures to be ghosts, instead that of a lamp. Standing still in a few corners, unmoving. The fluttering of their sheets by a draft the occasional movement.

The feline’s constant whining reached you, pulling you out. You took slow deliberate steps, stumbling and navigating through the sea of cloaked figures. Paying attention to the pleading mewls, you tracked down Peaches to a corner, adjacent to the source of light.

“Were you prancing around up here? How did you even get up here?!” you scolded. Peaches whines only became louder.

Going over to the window, you shut it, stopping the cold air from chilling further. Strange, has it always been opened? 

You stepped towards Peaches and assessed her. 

She was covered in soot, immaculate white coat now stained grey. The cat, for some reason, got her tail stuck under something heavy; a large leather bound book, covered in an inch of dust. You picked up the offending item, freeing Peaches from her confinement.

“There you go, you stupid cat,” you huffed. She mewled in reply, head butting your leg, showing gratitude. “Yeah, next time pay rent.”

She slinked between your legs before dashing off down the stairs, her tail between her legs. You could only sigh at her mischief. 

Gazing down, you inspected the heavy book in your hands. The word “Memories” was embossed on the cover in gold lettering. Some of the skin had been chipped off, the leather worn with age. Flipping to the first page, you realized it was actually a photo album.

A black and white portrait of a woman greeted you, her tight-lipped smile stern yet warm. She was a classic beauty, with shoulder length curls and immaculate brows. She looked every bit of the word professional.

Margaret Carter-Rogers, 1921-2016

On the next page, a wedding photo surprised you. In the photo, the woman —Margaret— was clad in virginal white. She was holding the arm of a light-colour haired man, whom you recognized to be Mr Rogers. He was equally dashing.

Carter-Rogers’ Wedding, June 1946

The following pages showed bits and pieces of their lives. Snapshots of the couple dancing; Five Year Anniversary, 1951. Photos at parties; Sharon’s First Birthday, 1977. And pictures with friends; Peggy’s Farewell Party, 1991.

You observed as the couple became progressively older with each flip of a new page. Hair became greyer and thinner. Skin became taut and wrinkly.

The photos of the couple stopped when you’ve reached a new section. 

James Buchanan Barnes, 1917 -

The page showed a small photograph of a brunette donning what seemed to be a military cap. Sharp cheekbones and a cleft chin were his distinguishing features, but what caught your attention were his eyes. Light-coloured in the sepia hues, most probably a light blue. They crinkled with his smile, adding more to the charm.

To say he was handsome was an understatement, he was most probably a heartthrob during his prime, you imagined.

Flipping through each page, you uncovered more of the past. Each photo consisted of both Mr Rogers —a skinnier younger version of him— with this mysterious man. James, as you’ve learned to memorize.

There were photos from their youth; Coney Island, 1937. Stills in their uniforms; Leaving for Europe, 1943. Images from their military days; Howling Commandos, 1945. And they ended there.

You admired each one of them, curious about Mr Rogers’ friend. They seemed to be really close if the amount of photographs were of any indicator. 

Where was he now? Were they still friends?

What piqued your interest further was the absence of a death date on the first page, beneath his photo. Was he still alive? If so, that would make him over a hundred. Where were the rest of the photos? The amount seemed considerably smaller compared to Margaret’s. Did something happen?

Before you could spiral further, you chose to close the album. That was enough prying for one day. 

—

“Hmmph harder!”

Moans mixed with the slapping of skin against skin echoed in the bedroom. You were on all fours, clutching the comforter for dear life as Sam railed you from behind repeatedly. Your toes curled in time with the delicious sting from his girth, wanting more and more. The roughness of his palms kneaded your behind, slapping your globes occasionally. It filled him with satisfaction when they bounced to his thrusts.

The post-dinner activity commences. 

“Ah... yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“You nearly there, baby?”

“Need more, Sammie,” you whined, head clouded with lust.

It started with a nice little dinner. Just the two of you. Before Sam brought out the whipped cream for desserts. He couldn’t resist.

Without warning, he flipped you over. You laid on your back, watching Sam as he hovered above. Giving a small peck to your lips, he re-entered, pistoning as he picked up where he left. You locked your ankles behind his back as you clung to him, the speed jostling you. 

You could feel it. You could feel how close he was to climax. The sloppy thrusts. The harsh grip. The unbridled groans. He was close. But you weren’t.

Pumping a few more times, Sam stilled, lost in the pleasure of his release. Riding the wave, he looked at you.

“Did you cum, baby?”

“Nu-huh,” you admitted, pushing your hips. It had been pleasurable, but you were far from reaching your high. You wiggled your hips, enticing Sam and making him groan.

Starting again, Sam changed condoms and thrusted into you; the goal of sending you into an orgasm in mind. He slowly rocked into you, penetrating with shallow thrusts before picking up momentum, going deeper. The speed and angle was adequate, but you felt something was amiss. 

Grabbing his arms, you thought of an act that would surely send you over the edge.

“Choke me, baby.”

You placed his palm on the base of your throat, closing the fingers on the sides of your neck. You gripped his hand, squeezing it to initiate the action. Immediately, you felt your airways cut off. The dizziness sent you to new sensations. A different kind of high that you welcomed.

You felt pleasure starting to build up within you. His deep thrusts paired with the asphyxiation drove you closer. Starting to tither over the edge, closer and closer. You were so close. Until it suddenly stopped.

You swallowed large gulps as oxygen invaded your lungs. The high that you were experiencing came crashing down, and not in the way you expected. You were robbed of it too early. Too soon.

 Sam’s hands were no longer on your neck. You looked up at him, seeing unease and guilt and another emotion. Put off.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he apologized. “I’m just uncomfortable by it. What if I made a mistake?”

He apologized a few more times, but you admonished him, reassuring that it was okay. He tried to get you off one more time, reaching his second climax for the night. You never reached yours.

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝔼𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥

Sunday came around with a ball of sunshine to make up for Saturday. You spent the afternoon alone, again, serving lunch for one. The only form of company the cat you adopted, when it was not out causing mischief. It seemed your choice of dwelling has caused you further isolation than you realized.

You’ve always cherished being by your lonesome. But today, it felt particularly lonely. 

The press of his lips on your forehead still lingered in your mind. The hug that he left with fell short of the usual warmth. Sam had been gone since breakfast, citing a friend needed his help. You didn’t ask further, giving him his space.

After last night, you felt it. His apprehension rolling off in waves. You didn’t blame him. While chasing for pleasure, you neglected the comfort of your partner. You neglected to discuss any boundaries that he had erected. 

You’ll make up for it when he gets back. But before that, you had tea and cakes with Wanda to catch. 

—

“I think it put him off,” you sighed. “Just this morning, he was doing his usual thing. He kissed me before he left, but it felt… different. Or maybe I’m looking too much into it and it’s actually nothing.”

The Sleeping Cat was crowded in the late afternoon. Its cozy interior provided shelter for those seeking warmth from the chilling autumn wind. The aroma of cakes and coffee was a welcomed presence, filling you with familiarity. Opposite of you sat Wanda, listening to your woes as she lazily stirred her tea.

“I feel bad, I told him to do it without discussing it with him first. He must be disgusted, or weirded out, I don’t know,” you gazed down, picking the strawberry on your cake. It was easy to talk to Wanda, she had always been a great listener, and a trusted friend. If anyone was an expert on relationships, it would be Wanda; Vis and her’s eighth anniversary a few months shy.

“Then, why not talk to him?” she said, looking quite amused yet still serious. “From what I gather, he only apologized. He didn’t say he was disgusted or anything. Like you said, it might actually be nothing.”

“Vis and I used to have misunderstandings a lot in the early years, given how clueless he always is,” she rolled her eyes. “But we learned that what we needed was to communicate. We’re not mind-readers, witch or not.”

You hummed, acknowledging the truth in her words. You’ve known Sam for a long time, friends before feelings came into the equation. You knew he would be open to communication; he did it for a living at the VA. It could end up actually being nothing but a misunderstanding from your part. It was silly. You’ll never know and keep on guessing unless you ask.

“Maybe you’re right,” you grabbed the tea at hand. “I was already thinking of making up to him, but maybe what we need —what I need— is just a conversation. Like a heart-to-heart.”

The tea soothed you, it’s blend of passionfruit and orange zest proved a tangy balm for your flurry of emotions. This company, and this atmosphere was a part of what you needed. On one hand, you shot Sam a text, asking if he’d be back for dinner.

“So, how’s the house? Feel like leaving yet?” Wanda asked, eyebrows raised.

You looked up from your phone, chuckling, “It’s been great, actually. Tony asked Sam if I wanted to bail out the other day, I told him to suck it.” Wanda laughed, amused, before her expression schooled.

“Have you experienced anything? Like, anything... weird?”

You contemplated her words, chalking it up to the usual suspicion. Your earlier intentions were to humour her, but the more you stewed, the more you were reminded of the past few days. 

“Well, there has been this ‘screeching’ noise?” you said, unsure. “It happened at night, but not every night. Sam said it was the brakes of old cars passing by, but honestly, it could also be my cat.” You didn’t want it to be a cause for worry, you tried to deflect the topic as best as you could.

“I adopted a stray in the area,” you explained. “Her name’s Peaches and she’s a menace. I’ve found her down in the basement twice and yesterday, she was in the attic of all places!” you huffed, eye-rolling. “But yeah, nothing really exciting besides my stupid cat.”

Wanda chuckled. A few beats passed before she continued, “But if anything happens, promise me you’d let me know?”

Her eyes were unwavering, the greens intense. Her amusement had turned sombre. You knew Wanda saw the world differently than you did. Believed in it differently than you did. The least you could do was ease her mind.

“I promise you’ll be the first person I’ll call, Wands.”

—

It was nearing 12am and Sam still wasn’t back. Did he go back to his own place? You’d understand if he did, you had work yourself. But he’d told you if he were.

You furiously tapped the end call button, irritated at the repeated tone of the voice message. His last text read at 7pm, said he was meeting with Tony and Rhodey for a while and he wouldn’t be back for dinner. That was 5 hours ago.

You couldn’t help but worry a bit. Was this about last night? Was he upset? Was he mad at you? Was he avoiding you? 

Putting the kettle on the stove, you turned on the burner. Remembering Wanda’s words, you thought of ways to calm your speeding mind. Some tea could help. After all, chamomile was considered a mild tranquilizer.

While waiting for the water to boil, you calmed yourself and thought rationally. Sam Wilson was a grown man. He didn’t need to be checked on constantly, didn’t need to be coddled, and he was deserving of his own personal space. You held yourself back from texting Tony and Rhodey, reminding yourself to respect Sam’s time and space. He will come back. He always does. 

The whistle of the kettle broke your train of thought. Taking a tea bag from Mr Rogers’ box of a housewarming gift, you let it steep before bringing a cup upstairs. 

The pull of slumber was immediate as soon as you finished; teacup barely making it to the saucer.

—

Creek!

You stirred from slumber, head groggy. The bed dipped and shook lightly, a weight rocked you slowly. Your eyelids felt heavy, unable to open, as if they were glued shut. Your limbs felt like lead; dense, laying useless by your side.

Creek! 

With the absence of sight, your sense of hearing heightened. After a few beats, you soon realized what was creaking. It came from the frame of the bed, its wood rickety from age. 

Cold air kissed your lower regions, making you shiver. You didn’t remember sleeping without the covers. Your nightshirt the only article of clothing, riding up until your stomach.

Creek! Creek!

Soon, a warmth enveloped you. A heavy weight. A body. Covering your form in their heat. They were running hot. 

Calloused and roughened, two large hands descended on you, running your sides. Their fingertips and palms ghosted, barely touching, before stopping on your thighs. The sensation left you in a shiver, leaving a sense of yearning.

“S… S-Sam?” you croaked out, throat parched.

Blind and in a haze, you tried to move your arms again, wanting to reciprocate the touch. Wanting to feel him. Only your fingers twitched, the effort proved exhaustive.

Creek! Creek! 

“Ah…”

A finger fiddled with your nub. He played with your clit, swirling with the pad of his fingers before gliding along your lower lips, prodding and teasing. He parted your legs, granting easier access as he toyed with your slit. Slick began to pool, he gathered and smeared it all over your cunt, giving your clit the occasional flick.

You felt cold and wet when he retracted, your juices clinging to your skin. Without warning, you felt the tip of his cock probed you, snuggling into your tight channel, demanding entrance. His thick girth stretched you, making you feel full. He gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he began rocking, plunging into you bit by bit. 

You felt odd. You swore one of his hands felt colder than usual. You shivered.

Creek! Creek! Creek!

The bedframe squealed louder and louder as he picked up speed, fucking you without a rhythm. You felt empty when he pulled out and full when he rammed in. He jostled you, hitting all the spots that made you scream, lost to the euphoria. You felt the occasional tap to the cervix, his bulbous head kissing it repeatedly. 

And while all this was happening, you remained locked, limbs laying heavy and unmoving.

Creek! Creek! Creek!

You loved the feeling of him inside you. You took him in like a champ, body pliant and receiving everything that came your way. The sensations made you almost forget your state of inebriation. 

With one hand, he pulled your nightshirt above your chest, freeing your breasts for him to see. The cold air hardened your nubs slightly. It wasn’t long before you felt a warm tongue descend on your tit, swirling and suckling as if to fulfill a hunger. 

He gave them both equal amounts of attention and care, alternating between the two. He stopped when he felt the treatment was adequate, leaving your nipples sore and wet in saliva.

Creek! Creek! Creek!

Fighting the heaviness, you slowly tried unfolding your eyelids. It proved exhaustive. You managed a tiny slit, shutting when it felt too much.

Your field was blurry and dark, heightening your hearing as the bed continued to creak. Sam’s broad figure hovered above, plunged in darkness. You couldn’t make out any features, just the shadow of his movements, thrusting into you.

Creek! Creek! Creek! Creek!

You felt a hand on your neck. Slowly, he began enclosing your throat, cutting your airways like the night before. Except this time, he didn’t stop squeezing.

The deep penetration of his cock combined with the exhilaration of breath play sent you to new heights. A new feeling; dizziness, euphoria, pleasure all rolled in one. The lightheadedness pushed you forward, nearing the edge. You felt it in your core.

Creek! Creek! Creek! Creek!

His pubis kept rubbing on your swollen clit, adding to the amounting high. His movements were getting erratic. He was getting closer, and so were you.

He released your throat, letting a rush of oxygen fill you. You were sent to an all new high. This was it, another type of rush. The head-spinning exhilaration you’ve been waiting for.

“S-Sam!” with a loud rasp, you came undone, quivering beneath him. He followed suit, jacking his hips frantically before stilling. His loud groan reverberated, almost animalistic in the night.

Tired out, your eyelids weighed down again, never getting the chance to peek at him. You drifted off, sleep pulling you under before you could hear his low mumble.

“Your fella could never do that, could he?”

[babymetaldoll]

Purple rain (Matthew Gray Gubler/Reader)

Prompt: It's been raining for a month

Word count: 1,4

Summary: After spending a whole month of rain together, Matthew and reader need to feel the sun on their skin. 

Warning: none

Category: Fluff

Pairing: Matthew Gray Gubler/ Reader 

Masterlist

It had been fun at first. Rain in Los Angeles never lasted that long, so the first couple of days were an adventure Matthew and (Y/N) had decided to enjoy outdoors: going to the beach, walking around the city - which was mostly deserted 'cos no one wanted to be outside - and even dancing under the rain in the middle of a park.

After a week, they started staying indoors, reading at the balcony with the open window, kissing under a cozy blanket, enjoying the smell of the rain in their backyard. They drank coffee and tea cuddled in bed watching the rain falling outside.

But by week four, Matthew was losing it. There were no movies nor board games that would take his mind from fantasizing about a sunny day. He needed to feel the rays of lights on his skin. He needed to look into the blue sky. He needed to be in a dry place for at least ten minutes.

- “Bunny?”- Gubler yelled walking around the house

- “In our room!”- his girlfriend yelled, stepping out of the shower wrapped in a huge, fluffy towel.

- “I've got a plan!”- the actor announced triumphantly as he jumped onto their bed and stared at (Y/N) getting dressed.

- “Which is?”- she asked a few seconds later, 'cos after his announcement, Matthew had fallen completely silent.

- “Which is what?”- he asked confused

- “You said you had a plan”- the girl put on a sweatshirt and jeans, and turned to look at her boyfriend.

- “Sorry, you were naked, I spaced out... and maybe took a few pictures”- (Y/N) raised an eyebrow and stared at his innocent smile. He tried - and succeeded - to look as cute and harmless as possible. His girlfriend walked to him and kneeled by his side on the bed, leaning over with a small grin until her lips rubbed his while she whispered.

- “Please, don't accidentally share them on any social media...”- Gubler frowned at those words right away, but (Y/N) bit her lips containing the snarky smile.

- “I don't want my perky tits to overshadow you cute thick cock”

- "Cute"- Matthew moved back from her and widen his eyes in shock- “Are you referring to my cock as "cute"?”

- “Well... it is, among many other adjectives you've heard me mention before”- she bit her lips as she smiled and leaned closer to Gubler one more time, and gave him a peck.

- “Now, you said you had a plan... what was it about?”

- “Oh! right!”- Matthew Gray jumped from the bed and smiled at (Y/N)- “Road trip!”

- “Where?”- the girl replied already excited with the idea.

- “I don't know, where can we find some sun?”

- “Vegas? San Diego?”

- “Tijuana!”- Gubler hadn't even considered crossing the border when he thought about traveling in the search for the sun, but somehow the idea appeared in his head and it sounded great.

- “Tequila, sexo y marihuana!”- (Y/N) added and chuckled.

- “It's that a real thing?”- Matthew asked- “'Cos it's selling the town pretty well...”

- “It's a song, dork!”- the actor jumped back onto the bed and held his girlfriend tight- But, even without any of those ingredients, I would love a Mexico adventure with you

- “Then let's go, Bunny!”

.

As Matthew Gray drove, the black clouds seemed to join them. They left Los Angeles and took the road to Tijuana. No sun to be seen yet, just rain.

(Y/N) held his hand and sang along with him at every single song on the radio. Gubler seemed to be happier as they put more miles in between them and Los Angeles. The clouds seemed to be getting whiter, fluffier, and lighter. That made Matthew smile even more. He loved the rain, he loved the grey days, but a month of that had been enough.

- “Have I told you your hair looks awesome with humidity?”- Gubler narrowed his eyes at those words and looked at his girlfriend confused.

- “Where is that coming from?”

- “From my heart”- she simply said and kept her eyes on the road- “I think it's cool that we've got the chance to share these days together, even when it has been raining”

- “What do you mean?”

- “Well, you are always busy, the rain ruined your filming schedule, but it gave us time to be together and cuddle... and that was the best thing that's has happened in months”

Gubler's heart sank with those words. Him being able to spend time with (Y/N), was that the best thing that had happened to her lately? it wasn't supposed to be that way. He thought he wasn't a lousy boyfriend, but now he felt he had been neglecting the love of his life unconsciously. A dark cloud lodged upon his head and seemed to make it rain just upon him now.

He knew his job made things hard, but... was he taking for granted his time with (Y/N)?

- “Bunny, do you resent me for not being with you enough?”- his voice was nearly a whisper, but (Y/N) heard him clearly. She had regretted her words as soon as they had left her lips, 'cos she knew he was going to think he wasn't paying her enough attention, and it wasn't like that. She didn't feel it that way. If she had, she would have made him know.

- “Never”- but he turned to look at her and his eyes showed the deepest concern and pain- “Matthew Gray Gubler, stop the car!”

- “What?”

- “Park! now!”- she commanded and he obeyed, no questions asked,

- “Honey, look at me”- she held his hands and cut him the sweetest smile she had- “I love you.”

- “I love you too”- he interrupted her and his eyes seemed to be pleading for forgiveness, although there was nothing to forgive in the first place.

- “I am not mad you work crazy hours, I don't resent you in any way, and the fact that you care so much about it shows me you are an amazing boyfriend, ok?”- her voice was soft, trying to calm Gubler's fears. 

She knew there were things that even after seven years of relationship, still scared him to death. Being a shitty boyfriend was one of those.

- “But... sometimes you have to postpone things you wanna do because of my shitty schedules, we never talk about this, but...”

- “Postpone what? you know I can work from any place I want, I just need my computer and coffee... and wifi”- (Y/N) smiled and felt how Matthew's finger caressed her cheeks as they stared at each other.

- “I knew what I was signing on with you, and I swear to god, I wouldn't change anything for the world”

- “You swear?”- he whispered and leaned closer, kissing her sweetly.

- “Pinky swear”

The couple stayed like that for a few more minutes. They would always joke around, they were always making each other laugh, but they weren't real good at sharing any fear or concern they might have related to their relationship.

- “You should keep driving, Gub, we are getting cheesy”- he chuckled and kissed her lips one more time.

- “Or”- he rubbed his lips against hers, and lick them slowly, letting his girlfriend know where his mind was going to- “We could move this party to the back seat”

- “We could... but... hey!”- she moved from him and opened the car's door- “Look at that!”

- “Careful! Bunny! where are you going?”

- “It's the fucking sun!”

Matthew stepped off the car and looked up at the sky. The clouds were fading, and some blue was starting to appear between them. And behind one that was especially white and fluffy, he could feel the sun shining, warming up his skin.

- “Oh shit... I had forgotten how good this felt like”

(Y/N) turned to her boyfriend, who had his eyes closed and enjoyed the few rays of the sun he was getting. How could she ever be mad at him? seriously. Yes, he could drive her crazy from time to time, but he always made her feel special and loved.

- “Ok Gubler, keep driving, let's go chasing some more Vitamine D”- the girl tapped on the roof of the car and opened the door.

- “Alright, but when we get there, can we get the tequila and the sex you promised?”

- “Yes, we can, now drive” 

[writingwannabe]

ORPHIC: CHAPTER ONE

Humans are stupid.

I came to this conclusion when I was still a teenager, 17 to be exact. The light was dimming outside my bedroom window and my life was spread on top of the beige carpet, waiting to be hidden into two worn yellow suitcases. A textbook as old as time made itself comfortable on the white desk in the corner. Months of dust piled on the cover, making the title fade. I hadn't set a finger on it since summer began, yet, somehow, the book blew open, and its pages exposed themself to the yellow ceiling. My mind tried to stay focused on the task that I had procrastinated all week, but it seemed like I floated over to the corner, a particular paragraph catching my eye, hidden by the metal-framed glasses that I had yet to outgrow.

Humans began separating themselves from mages in the late 1600s when the act of using magic became seen as a satanic practice.

Mom, with a glass of five-hundred-dollar wine in her hand, would tell anyone who would listen at the lavish parties the Ragers threw, that humans would give up water just to show up the fish. I would laugh at her when she said this with Harley in the next room over, mocking her voice with juice boxes in our pudgy hands. As time passed, however, and I saw the pure, unadulterated human stupidity up close, I started understanding her point of view. They gave up access to people who could keep them warm when it was raining and give them water when the rivers dried up, just to suck up to a god who may or may not exist. Pride is a funny thing. As much as I would've loved to keep my nose stuck in a book until the sun painted the sky the next morning, Mom started heading up my way. An aromatic smell wafted from the bottom of the staircase. The sleeve of my grey sweater moved up and down the book frantically, dust flying into the air. As I finished shoving eight textbooks and the occasional potion bottle wrapped in old newspaper into the first suitcase, a knock was heard outside my room, Mom’s red slippers peeking out from the crack of the door.

“Sweety,” She hummed, my white peeling door whining open, revealing a plate of cookies delicately placed in her boney hands, “are you almost done packing?” Her eyes were magnetized to my floor; a sea of organized chaos only I could understand.

“Thalia,” she groaned, “you are leaving tomorrow.” Tomorrow. A day I thought would never arrive, just around the corner.

“I will get it done,” I promised, reaching for a steaming cookie but getting blocked by the side of her hand, a grin creeping on her face.

“Dinner first.”

-

If someone entered, they would assume the perfect nuclear family occupied this two-story, blue paneled house located in the middle of rural Pennsylvania; a mom, a dad, and a couple of kids running around the backyard, playing pretend and getting paint on everything they could see. The grey love section could easily seat 6 people comfortably, along with the kitchen table that was always set for a party. The plethora of silver frames hanging in the entrance gave it away though. Alongside a younger, happier woman with her carbon copy of a daughter, featured a now crossed out, looming figure in the majority of the pictures on that wall. If the photos of him weren’t crossed out, they were now ash on the bottom of the fireplace.

Dinners were better without him anyway. Mom and I sat across from each other most days to see the other’s face as we told tales of whatever we did leading up to that evening. That meal should’ve been no different. I rested my head on her shoulder, attempting to stomach the stew she cooked. A television show accidentally left on was the only thing breaking the silence. This was the first day since his departure that I can remember having no words to say. My fork danced in the boiling broth, chunks of beef and carrots occasionally surfacing and sinking to the bottom. Mom was also struggling. Her bowl wasn’t any less full when it was first poured, and heat stopped radiating off of it after a while of sitting in silence. She exiled it to the edge of the table, pushing her body off of the chair, forcing me to straighten mine. Mom grabbed a loaf of bread from the stove she cooked that morning, holding it up as if asking me if I wanted some without saying a word. I nodded, grabbing our untouched meals. The unwanted soup went back into the crockpot, the bowls in the sink.

“Crap!” She screeched, dark red liquid followed a sharp silver knife, creating a loud thud as it collided with the checkered floor. I turned her to face me, her thumb gushing blood. I reached my hands out to hers, resting them gently on top, squeezing them lightly until the red substance was no longer visible. The gash that was once racing down the side of her finger disappeared, leaving no evidence of ever being injured. Tears now covered her cheeks, not caused by the silver blade. Her arms were thrown over me, pulling me in tight leaving no room for even the tiniest bit of air to pass through. Her words were hard to understand, but I managed to make out a sentence in between her hysterical sobs.

“I don’t want you to go again,” Mom whispered, “the house is so lonely.”

As the oldest, and only, child, my job has been to keep mom comfortable since she kicked him out a year before. However, with September a day away, I wouldn’t be able to fulfill my duties three states over, but I wasn’t about to spend my last day with my mom crying and packing. I pulled my body away from her so I could look into her eyes.

“Let’s watch a movie,” I suggested, “We can eat ice cream and not worry about tomorrow.” Mom nodded, her face lighting up once more as we plopped our bodies on the sectional, my hands full of 3 tubs of mint chocolate chip. We hardly even watched the movie with acting comparable to flour. When she passed out, it was long past midnight and my things were still ‘organized’ into two mountainous piles on my floor.

-

The sun poked through the curtains the next morning, shining rays on my eyes until I was forced to wake up. Blankets and pillows were piled all around me, being the only thing protecting me from the cold floor, other than the carpet a couple inches away. My suitcases were no longer stacked on top of one another by the doorway, stuffed to the brim with clothes, books, and anything I found necessary at four in the morning, but instead out of my room completely. I groggily stumbled from the floor to the window, prying back the curtains. Mom stood there, a red mug of coffee in hand, closing the trunk of her beat up, white mini van. My things, unmistakable by the neon color, were placed in the far right of the trunk to make room for Atlas, Harley, and Leo, who would be picked up as we slowly make our way to the school. She was finally smiling again, the only tears of hers this morning coming from looking at the sun for a second too long.

“We’re gonna be late if you don’t get down here,” Mom called with down turned lips that occasionally broke into a smile.

“Coming!” I replied, practically falling down the stairs as I imagined being back in New York with my friends, taking in the sights of the town nearby and dipping our toes in the lake as soccer practice took place. I didn’t even get dressed. I was still in sweats and a yellow sweater from the day before, but that didn’t stop me from jumping into the passenger seat, my sneakers falling off my feet. Mom looked at me longingly from the driver's seat, a million things on her mind.

“Ready?” She asked, sticking the keys in the ignition, jiggling them around until the car shook to life. I nodded, watching the place I grew up in disappear around the corner replaced by sights of rolling hills and hundreds of trees.

[millytempesta]

Save me.

Chapter 1, chapter 3, chapter 4.

Paring: Asahi Azumane x reader

Rating: Fluff, love at first sight (?).

Summary: Asahi is a marine biologist, who is in charge of taking care of the strange creature that they found.But what happens when he discovers that other biologists are experimenting on his precious sea treasure, leaving it a shaky, scared mess?He'll need all the help from his friends to rescue the little fish and take it back to his blue house.

Warnings: This story will contain SMUT, MENTION OF DARK THEMES (Y/n past), MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOMEONE.

A/n:  A little chapter that will help -hopefully- to make the next two more clear. A little of Asahi's backstory and the last drop that will make his put aside all his anxiety and save the little mermaid. The story is evolving, it's coming a little longer that what I expected it to be, but I hope you'll enjoy it just as much as I am.

It was now winter outside, in just a couple of days it will be Christmas, a holiday that Asahi used to love when little.

He remembered all his relatives coming to see his family, bringing lots of presents for him and his cousins. Lots of laughter filled the small dining room for the whole day passed enjoying Okaasan’s food. He missed his family lots. After he moved away for his job, he lost most of the contacts with all of them, only remaining informed thanks to his mum, who passed away last year.

His only family was now his high school friend, but most of them remained to work in Miyagi, or they moved to Tokyo for studies. Now that he was an adult, Christmas has been just another day who reminded him of how lonely he truly was. That’s why he usually preferred working all day, instead of going home and watching cheesy Christmas films all alone.

Walking to work, he stopped in his tracks in front of his favourite bakery. Along with all the various delicacies, what caught his eye was a white cake, adorned with statuettes of Santa Claus and little snowmen. An idea crossed his mind at that moment, making his feet move by themselves into the shop, and before he realized it, he was now standing outside of the bakery, with the fluffy cake in his hand. With a new sprint in his feet, he quickly made his way to the laboratory, greeting everyone with a warm smile.

Closing the door behind him, he slowly took his clothes off, leaving himself in his diving suit.

“(Y/n) look what I bought!”. He carefully seated on the edge of the pool, letting his feet swing into the cool water. Not even a second after, (h/c) hair made his way on the surface.

He greeted her with a kind smile, motioning for her to come closer. With a happy chirp as a greeting, she made her way to him, resting her head on his leg for him to stoke.

“Do you know what Christmas is?” He asked, looking into her curious gaze.

Shaking her head, she noticed the well packed box. A webbed hand made its way out of the pool, pointing with a finger to the said box, letting a question sound to reinforce her point.

“Christmas is a holiday we celebrate to spread happiness!”. The little mermaid made a celebrating dance at the world happy, singing happily. “Yes, happy!” He chuckles at her actions.

Taking hold of the box, he slowly opened it in front of her, letting her eyes study the new items. After a little of looking she pointed to the cake, to then point at her mouth.

“Yes! It is food, it’s a cake, just like the one I bought for Doctor Furukawa’s birthday, do you remember?” Shaking eagerly her head, she lifted her upper half on the pool’s edge, sitting next to him.

Taking the cake out of its box, he cut a slice for her to try. “It’s a little bit early to celebrate, Christmas will be in a couple of days, but I saw the cake this morning and I thought you would have liked it”. Smiling, she happily accepts the treat, letting the sweet food melt in her mouth. Her eyes opened wide open, shocked by the delicious sensation that the cream left in her mouth.

“You like that?”. Nodding fast, she quickly finished the rest of the cake, moving her plate back on his hands asking for more. Patting her head, he put the plate away near the rest of the cake.

“You can’t eat lots of it, or it will hurt your tummy”. He pointed at his tummy, making a hurt face. Worried he took hold of his hands, looking into his brown eyes. With an amused laugh, he squeezed her hands, telling her he was okay.

The warm smile in response vanished from her face when Asahi’s face got closer to hers. Her two hearts started beating faster, making her cheeks blow a bright blue (because why not, she is a mermaid, so I thought her blood would be blue). He licked his thumb, moving it to her chin where a little of the cream was resting on her soft (s/c) skin. After taking it off he bringed back that finger to his mouth, eating the sweet treat. A hum wakes her up from her trance, making her averting her eyes from his. “That bakery makes the best cream in the area”. Taking hold of her face, he turned it to him, studying her features “Are you okay? Your face is changing colour…”. A whimper escapes her lips at the close contact, making the man worried even more. After a couple of seconds, realisation hit him, making his face light up in a crimson red. Letting go of her, face he hugged his head low, staring at the reflection in the water.

A cold hand squeezed his warm one, making him look back up at her. With a kind smile she motioned to the water with her head, an invitation for him to join her in their daily swim.

Letting out a sigh of relief, he jumps in the water dragging her under with him, making her laugh. A halo of brown hair frames his face, his eyes slowly opening in the cool mass of water, locking into her (e/c) one. Puffy cheeks kept air into his mouth, a reminder that he couldn’t breath under water, in contrast with her open one, who was still giggling at his previous action. A timid smile made his way to his lips, gently pulling her harm, to make her get closer to his body. Hugging him, her tail took a curve under his body, letting his legs rest on top of it. Making her way up, they both came back to the surface, where the girl started swimming round with the man in her harms. Giggling, she started spinning around making Asahi’s head light. “Hey, stop it”. He tried to sound firm, but failed as soon as a small laugh escaped his lips.

She let go of him, swimming until her body was not facing his front. The finned ears perked up, moving in a wave-like motion, accompanied by a soft series of sounds that seemed like music. She was singing again for him. Oh... how much he loved her singing, he remembered him of the calm sound of the whales, but deeper, like a sad lullaby, who a sailor’s wife would sing hoping for her husband to come back safe. It made him move closer to her, letting his head rest on top of hers, feeling the vibration of her voice in his chest. After a little the sound stopped, making the man look down at the small body in his harms. He smiled down at her big eyes, kissing the top of her head. His watch started beeping, letting him know that it was time to go back home. A sad chirp made its way out of the mermaid’s lips, who had her head hung low. “Oh no, please, don't be sad, you know I’m not leaving yes? I need to finish some paperwork, why don’t you go to your room, so we can be next to each other?”. Resigned, she lets go of him, waving him goodbye.

Back in his office, he took a look at the big wall glass, locking eyes with the girl, who was now on the little step.

The step has been created from Asahi, after she insisted on wanting a bedroom just like the photo he showed her of his one. On the bottom of it seaweeds were put to recreate the mattress with a soft panda float secured on the pavement, making her pillow -Asahi found the panda float in a small shop; a smile made his way as soon as he spotted it, remembering when (Y/n) declared her love for the animal, stating that it reminded her of him; the smile that adorned her features when he brought it to her made it all worth.

It was missing a cover, as the object was not needed for the girl. The wall on the left side was full of photos, taken by Asahi, of animals that he spotted during his walk to and from work, various buildings who adorned the town, colorful flowers who were seated on his window and photo of the blue orange sky who made the sea look like a big lava mass. The sunset was (Y/n)’s favourite time of the day, one of the biggest things that she missed, closed in this building for such a long time.

The photo collection started when Asahi noted a change in her behaviour; The girl stopped eating , preferring to pass the time all curled up in her ‘bedroom’ when alone, or cuddle up during her session with the brunette. Her smile long forgotten on her features, now having a permanent halo of sadness on her (e/c) iris. It didn’t take him much to understand that the cause of said behaviour was her body showing how much she missed the infinite deep blue mass, that once she called home. Searching for a way to lift her mood, he came across an underwater camera, reminding him of all the photos that he used to take during his excursion, deep down the surface.

He started by taking photos of the seagulls flying in the sky who kept him awake during late night, the grey clouds ready to rain who shaken the waves to the coast, the deep blue of the sea filled up with colourful fishes. Slowly the girl came out of her shell, asking him to take more photos of the world out of the water, curious of the hidden beauty that the surface was hiding. All the pictures were carefully situated to form a perfect frame around her favourite phone, one of her and Asahi during one of their swims. She is positioned behind the man, holding him under the surface, while he was holding the camera in his hands. In both of their faces a huge beaming smile was showing, signalling how much fun they were having.

Looking at his paperwork, a sigh escapes him, remembering that time when she used to be home sick. With the past of the time, the bond created between the two only got stronger, making Asahi more and more emotional tied with her. He knows she is still sad, he knows how horrible it must be to be close to four walls for so long, not being able to swim in the infinity of the blue that once she was used to. And to top it all, it’s been weeks since they started putting sedatives into (Y/n)’s food, and bringing her who knows where to do an experiment on her body. When he tried asking Doctor Furuka, he refused to answer, only saying that no harm was done to the sea creature.

A loud siren turned on, signaling that the service door on the opposite side of the pool has been opened.They were once again here, ready to take her away to their laboratory. Scared by the loud sound, the girl swam to the big glass, asking for reassurance. Asahi put his hands on the glass, trying to show a warm reassuring smile, trying to calm her down. A net was thrown in the water, making the man agitated. ‘They usually wait for her to fall asleep before taking her away’. Her eyes filled up with terror as soon as her tail got stuck to the object, making her unable to swim away. All her wriggling brought the net to painfully tighten its grip around her long tail, letting a loud cry escape her lips.

“STOP IT YOU ARE HURTING HER!” He screamed, implorating in vain for the other men to let her go.

They didn’t care, they were hurting her and they weren’t doing anything about it.

A tranquilizer dart was fired, hitting her (f/c) tail. Slowly her wriggling stopped, indicating that she passed out. Only then the net brought her up, making her disappear from his sight.

After minutes of silence and staring into the now empty pool, Asahi fell onto his knees. Her terrified expression haunting his mind.

They hurt her, scared her and took her away right under his eyes, and all he could do was watch.

A tear escapes from his eyes. Flash of his past coming back to him.

“Asahi, stop being a coward!” “Asahi be a man once in your life” “You’ll never change, always stepping back when scared”.

Looking back up to the blue surfare, a dark light made its way onto his eyes, making him stand up.

‘No more’.

After a couple of hours the siren was heard again, followed by a loud splashing sound caused by something making contact with the water. Looking up, (Y/n)’s body was sinking slowly down the water motionless. Panic came back to him, who started running up the stairs and into the water room. Stripping off his clothes, he jumped into the cool liquid, reaching for her body. Bringing her to her bed, he gently positioned on her back, moving her hair from her face. The hand that was stroking her hair stopped on her cheek, caressing the cold skin there. ‘I’m so sorry’. Bringing their forehead together, he let his body rest next to her as much as he could, before his lungs screamed for oxygen. With one last look he made his way back up. Sitting on the edge of the pool, staring at the service door, a frown made its way on his face, while carefully he studied his plan back up again. ‘I won’t let them hurt you again, I promise you’.

[izzielizzie]

Now I’ve Seen You I’ve Seen It All Chapter Two

This is a really long fic title, dang. Anyway, enjoy!!!

The next morning, the counselors are sitting drinking coffee in the Big Cabin before the children wake up and the morning rush sends them in a million and one directions. Addy’s texting someone, a grin on her face as her mug hovers between the table and her mouth.

“Are you talking to Keely?” Phoebe asks, peering over Addy’s shoulder.

“Yep, she’s got this major project designing a wedding dress for someone, and she’s pestering me about whether cream lace or white lace looks better, or something like that.”

Phoebe giggles, thinking of her own mother as she leans back against Knox. “Well, there was no lace on my dress and we survived.”

“Tell that to Keely.”

Addy, Phoebe, and Knox laugh. Farther down the table, Cooper and Kris are wrapped up in each other, discussing the weather. “If it rains, in the afternoon, I’ll have to cancel wiffle ball,” Cooper muses. Kris rolls his eyes affectionately. 

“What’s with you and wiffle ball?”

“Maeve won’t let me use real baseballs.”

“They’re dangerous!” Maeve protests from her spot in Luis’s arms.

Kris runs a hand through his curls and grins. “She’s got a point, babe. Look at what happened yesterday.”

“Kris that was a wiffle ball not a baseball so your point is invalid.”

“Imagine the kind of damage Ellen could have done if she had a baseball!”

“Kris please if Ellen wants to inflict damage she doesn’t need a baseball for that.”

“Speaking of, I wonder if Ellen and Ali are getting along,” Maeve says musingly as she rests her head on Luis’s shoulder.

“I’m sure they are,” Luis says.

Everyone at the table - minus the deranged couple - exchanges looks clearly indicating that they do not agree.

They would be correct.

“Ellen stop humming,” Ali grumbles from her bunk as Ellen stands in front of the mirror brushing her shoulder length hair.

Ellen hums a little louder.

“Ellen I mean it, stop humming.”

Ellen switches songs and hums louder.

“Ellen.”

“Hmmm.” Ellen’s stopped humming at this point and is now shouting random vowels as she continues methodically running a brush through her hair. 

“Ellen-I-don’t-know-your-middle-name-Rojas stop this instant or else. You’re giving me a headache and you’re off pitch.”

“HMMM- hey!”

In a desperate attempt to get Ellen to shut up, Ali leaps off her bunk, landing on top of Ellen with a bang.

“Shut! Up!” Ali shouts from on top of Ellen, ignoring her bruised arm.

“My hair! My hair!” Ellen shouts.

Ali pauses. “Your hair? Your hair? Girl I just jumped on you and you’re worried about your hair?”

“My hair!” Ellen repeats.

Ali rolls off Ellen. “Are you seriously that worried about your- ah!”

Ellen uses the opening to roll over on top of Ali. “Stop being so mean and bossy all the ti- oh hey Aunt Phoebe!” Ellen says, dropping her hands from Ali’s shoulders, which she had been shaking with every word.

Ali and Ellen both stand up, sheepishly turning to Phoebe, who had just pushed the door open, a tray of food balanced expertly one one hand. 

“Hello girls, I brought breakfast since Maeve wants you two to stay here and think about your actions. Which I’m sure you’re doing.”

“Oh yeah,” Ali says.

“For sure,” Ellen agrees.

Phoebe raises her eyebrows, not fooled. “Well, I’ll just leave this here so you can keep thinking,” she says, placing the tray on a desk. Both girls nod and wave as Phoebe leaves. The moment the door closes they scramble for the food, pushing each other until they’ve both grabbed something. The cross to opposite sides of the cabin and sit, glaring at each other. They stay this way for the rest of the morning and into the afternoon, pausing here and there to read books or throw thinly veiled insults at each other, but mostly they just sit in silence. Until the rain starts about an hour after Knox brings lunch.

“It’s raining,” Ellen says.

“Yeah I’m aware,” Ali responds. 

“It’s making the roof leak.”

Ali looks up to see a hole the size of a quarter in the roof, water slowly dripping onto the floor. “You’re worried about that? At home the roof was dripping so badly my dad had to redo the entire ceiling.”

Ellen tilts her head.

“My dad owns a construction company.”

“Oh. My mom’s a lawyer. We live in an apartment building.”

“Does your mom fix stuff?”

‘“We’re not allowed. And anyway, I don’t think she’d like to. She’s really neat and not… handson-y.”

“What about your dad?”

“I don’t have one.”

Ali nods once before turning back to her book, not sure how to proceed. If the girls realize they’ve just had a real conversation, they don’t acknowledge it. They stay silent until Ellen looks up to roll out her neck and realizes that the hole has become more like the size of her palm. 

“Ali! The hole!”

Ali looks up and jumps up in surprise. “We need to catch the water before it gets anywhere!” she cries as the water splashes down onto the wooden floor.”

“We need a bucket!”

Ali looks at Ellen like she’s grown three heads. “Right. Let me go get it from my car.”

“You don’t have a car.”

“And I don’t have a bucket either!”

Both girls scramble, frantically dancing around the water to find something suitable for catching the precipitation. 

“Your bag!” Ellen shouts, pointing to Ali’s oversized bag.

“What?”

“Yeah, it’ll work, we can line it with your leather jacket, it's waterproof right?”

Ali looks around frantically, trying to find a better alternative to her bag and jacket (which is waterproof). She doesn’t find one. “Okay! Fine!”

Both girls scramble to dump out the contents of the bag, and they line it with Ali’s jacket, pushing the bag under the water. They step back, catching their breath as the water starts to collect in the bag. Once she’s sure that the bag will hold the water, Ali turns to her things. She crouches and starts collecting everything, putting them on the bunk underneath hers. Ellen’s about to go back to her bed when she sees Ali picking up her things on her own. Feeling guilty for suggesting they use Ali’s only bag, Ellen climbs back down the ladder and starts picking up assorted things: a chapstick here, an earring there, until she sees an old tattered picture and freezes.

The picture is a normal picture: a girl in a green cap and gown, a grey dress peeking out underneath. She’s standing in front of a fireplace, a grin on her face as she holds up a diploma for the camera. But this isn’t just any old girl, it’s a girl Ellen recognizes. She knows the dark framed glasses and grey eyes and tan skin and brown curls. It’s her mother. Blood rushes to Ellen’s head. 

“Ali?” she asks quietly. Ali freezes, surprised by Ellen’s tone. 

“What?”

“Why do you have a picture of my mother?”

Ali turns, sees the picture in Ellen’s hand, and yanks it back. “Hey! Be careful with that, it's important.”

Ellen tries to take it back. “I mean it, Ali, why do you have a picture of my mother?”

Ali makes a face. “Your mother? That’s my mother, stupid.”

“No, that’s my mom.”

“Why would I have a picture of your mom?” Ali asks. 

“How am I supposed to know! Here, I’ll prove it.” Ellen fishes around her duffle bag for a moment until she pulls out a wallet. She opens it, and slides a Polaroid picture out from the slot where IDs are supposed to go. It’s of Ellen and Bronwyn, taken in their penthouse apartment the day before Ellen left for camp. Bronwyn had her arms around Ellen as they smiled at the camera that, at the time, was placed on the mantelpiece. Bronwyn was wearing a grey blazer and her hair was down, and it’s easy to see the resemblance between the Bronwyn in the Polaroid picture and the Bronwyn in Ali’s picture. Ellen hands Ali the picture. Ali stares at it for a moment, looking between the two pictures. When she finally turns away from them, Ellen can’t tell if she’s confused or about to cry.

“Why do I have a picture of your mom?”

“That’s what I’m asking.”

“But, does this mean I haven't been looking at my mom?” Ali’s actually crying now.

Ellen softens her tone. She can’t imagine finding a picture of her father and then learning it’s not her father. “I don’t know. Where did you find this?”

“In my dad’s office. I thought that person in the corner was him. I thought it was the only picture of my parents in the same room that I had.” Ali’s sobbing, and Ellen puts a hand on her arm. She doesn’t pull away. 

“Is that him? In the corner?” Ellen can just make out an arm in a leather jacket. Ali nods. Ellen thinks this isn’t a lot to go off of, parents wise, but Ellen can understand Ali’s desperation. She’s always wondered about her father, but her mother’s only said that she’s moved on and doesn’t want to talk about him. “I’m sorry Ali. Did your dad grow up in Bayview?”

“Yeah,” Ali sniffs.

“My mom too. She hasn’t been back since I was born. That was twelve years ago. Thirteen in October,” Ellen adds. Ali’s head shoots up.

“October?”

“Yeah, October thirty first. I’ve always loved that I was born on -”

“Halloween. Ellen, I was born on Halloween. I’m twelve almost thirteen.”

Ellen looks at Ali. “That’s a funny coincidence.”

Ali grabs for Ellen’s shoulders. “What if it’s not? What if we were born on the same day? What if your mom is my mom? I mean we look alike right? Everyone says so. We only disagreed because we didn’t like each other.” Ellen notices the past tense. Maybe Ali doesn’t hate her anymore. 

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“I mean, we both have black hair. We both have freckles. Our skin is the same shade of not-pale-but-not-tan-either. And our eyes are… wait are they blue or grey?”

“I’ve always called them ‘grue’,” Ellen admits.

“Me too!”

“Wait, Ali, are you saying we’re sisters?”

“Ellen, you doofus, we’re twins.”

It takes a moment for this to sink in, but all of a sudden, Ellen’s crying in a way that she hasn’t in a long time. She’s hugging Ali, rocking back and forth and sobbing into her shoulder. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” they keep saying over and over in unison, almost like they’re identical twins that have had their entire lives to do things like say the same thing at the same time. When they pull away, Ellen asks: “Does this mean your dad is my dad?”

“Yeah! I think it does!”

“Oh my gosh, what’s he like?” Ellen asks.

“He’s great! He’s funny and really nice and we watch movies together and he takes me to work and he built me a treehouse.”

“Oh. My. God. That’s so cool.”

“What about Mom?”

“She’s a lawyer. She’s super cool and she has the greatest fashion sense and she drives the coolest car. Oh my gosh, Ali, this means that Aunt Maeve is your aunt too!”

Ali starts crying again at this realization. She truly does adore Maeve.

“Do you think she knows?”

“I don’t know. Ali, we should ask!”

“Yes! Let’s go!”

Both girls sprint out of the door, hand in hand, glancing at each other every few moments, reveling in the feeling of finding family, their past animosity long forgotten.

[mulderist]

Wicked Game

Previous chapters // read on A03

Washington, D.C - 1948. Fox Mulder is a detective on the top vice unit; scandal, corruption, and lies come with the territory. He is forced to investigate a fellow officer and finds the lies go much deeper than the truth.

tagging @today-in-fic

CHAPTER 6

Navy Yard Washington, D.C. 10:13 p.m.

The Navy Yard sits on an unappealing southeast corner of the city pressed up against a polluted strip of the Potomac. It was used for ship maintenance and ammunition manufacturing during the war and continued for a little while after. The surrounding warehouses and docks became defunct once the war effort projects dried up. The shipyard devolved into a revolving door for small-time criminals which begat large-time mobsters. Security was usually an older night watchman who was past his prime and easy to track. Smaller boats would pull up and drop off cargo whenever they could. Deals were quick and dirty. Soon, respectable businesses in the southeast east district wanted a piece and formed a “two ships passing” style agreement. I suppose it saved them from having their goods sent to Anacostia or down towards Virginia. 

A flash of lightning brightened up a cluster of clouds. A rumble of thunder echoed in the distance. Fortunately, I had arrived and got into position just prior to the downpour. I sat on a dirt driveway off the access road, which was quickly becoming a muddy river. There was a canal to my left at the nine o’clock position, the Potomac dead ahead at my twelve, and the edge of a warehouse was at my three o’clock. The rain sounded like I had parked my Pontiac under Niagara Falls. Water pounded against the roof, rushed down the windshield in sheets of grey making the wiper blades useless. The water-logged Buddy Rich solo played on against the car and I had a feeling my view was not going to clear up anytime soon.

I fidgeted with a sunflower seed I pulled from the half-empty bag on my dashboard. Ideally I would toss the shells out the window but given the weather and trying to keep a low profile, there was an unsalted graveyard on the floor of the sedan. I cracked the shell with my teeth and added it to the discarded brethren. The seed danced around my tongue and I turned my wrist trying to make out the time on my watch. The minute hand eased a tick past the quarter hour. I then picked up the radio and connected with the precinct dispatch.

“This is Detective Mulder, over.”

Static. Click. Click.

I pressed the button again on the comm as I leaned over and grabbed my hat.

“This is Detective Mulder, do you copy? Over.” 

“Evening detective, this is Officer Stanz. Always nice hearing your voice in the dead of the night.”

“You too, sweetheart.”

“So Mulder, what’s your status?” 

“Waiting for this storm to strip the paint off my car,” I replied as I ran a hand over my face. “Visibility is shit sitting here in the driver’s seat. Regrettably, I think I’ll have to go on foot. Over.”

“Copy that,” she said, “Hopefully you won’t need to build an ark.”

“Honey, I’d rather swim for it. Over and out.” 

I placed my hat on my head, pocketed the small binoculars that were resting on the seat next to me, and opened the car door into the deluge. The rain sounded different as it slapped against the water in the canal, rang against the scrap metal, and beat against the dock. I dashed towards a scrap pile and crouched down amongst rusted metal and what I hoped were empty oil drums. If there was a gunfight I didn’t want to go up like a Roman candle. I peered over an oil drum and got eyes on the warehouse through the binoculars.

The info Krycek had provided Skinner said three was the magic number; Vincenti favored odds over evens. Guess I know how he’d play the roulette wheel at the casino. I saw a worn metal sign tacked to the side of the building letting me know I was in the right place. There was a dim light piercing through a shadow on the dock so somebody was home. Suddenly, headlights came down the other end of the access road and I got out of sight. The car went dark and I counted to ten then shifted my position. Rain poured off the brim of my hat, dripped down my neck so I flipped up the collar; glad I chose the dark grey trench coat. The new vehicle slowly crept closer to the front of the warehouse and idled. Once the hood touched the dim light source I knew it looked familiar; the distinct yellow paint job of a D.C. cab. I squinted and tried to memorize the plate number through spikes of rain. The passenger door opened flashing the checkered pattern on the side panel. A figure stepped out and rounded the front of the car then paused at the driver’s side before heading into the warehouse. Just then, a headlight shone on the river. I listened to the putter of the engine as it pulled up to the edge of the dock. Once the engine was cut I watched through the binoculars and saw one of the goons wave as the boat approached the dock. It was the same goon who was with Lodi at the restaurant. He approached the boat as they cut off the light. My grip switched and my eyes strained.

The D.C.cab was still idling along with the boat at the dock. I kept to the shadows. I could feel moisture collect at my mid back from an adrenaline surge. That all too familiar feeling. Suddenly as a thunder clap sounded, I had a flashback to a sunrise mission on Wake Island: Rain made my hands very slick on the Carbine as I tried to ready my aim. Bullets whizzed around me. The mud was so thick. An explosion went off nearby, my ear was ringing. My sergeant was yelling commands. I held my breath for three counts and pulled the trigger, a bright spray of red marked where I hit a Japanese soldier square in the throat. First time I successfully made that shot. Confirmed kill.

  I closed my eyes and dug my nails into the palm of my hand, one pain replaced another and the memory faded. My breath was short but steady. I needed to focus. If the goon was there, Lodi was surely lurking somewhere inside. I just needed to get eyes on him. The backside of the building seemed like a safer option and I pressed against the rotting wood as I moved around to a shabby staircase. A quick glance up and I climbed towards the single door. The steps were slippery and I was waiting for my foot to punch through a soft spot in the warped planks. At the landing I readied my gun and turned the knob, slowly opening the unlocked door. The upper level looked clear. It was a nice respite from the storm. I held my position and holstered my weapon. My trenchcoat felt like it took on about twenty pounds of rainwater and I would have enjoyed shaking off like a wet shaggy dog. Drips from the edge of my coat marked my hiding spot like an X on a treasure map. Luckily I didn’t need my binoculars from my perch because, as if on cue, Carlo Lodi’s hulking frame lumbered across the floor. 

He blew a puff of smoke from a dying cigarette. His goon handed over a white package which Lodi bounced in his hand with approval. He gave a wave and a couple of men filed out of the warehouse and approached the boat. I could just barely make out the edge of it bobbing at the side of the dock. The lackeys quickly transferred packages from the boat to the trunk of the idling taxi. I adjusted my stance and craned my neck. The cab had a picture of the Capitol dome and what looked like the word ‘Speedy.’ They were using the taxi company to move the heroin. I heard the boat engine rev and pull away from the dock. One of the men approached the driver’s side door of the cab and pulled the driver out. He pushed the confused cabbie away from his vehicle. Then the man swiftly plunged a knife in the cabbie’s side, repeating the motion until the poor driver went limp. He was then dropped in the Potomac like yesterday’s garbage. The goon took his place behind the wheel and I knew I needed to get back outside to tail him.

I saw the headlights from the commandeered taxi so I was careful not to be spotted. I couldn’t tell which direction he was going to pull off so I waited behind a different wood and scrap pile. The chug of the engine caught my attention. The lights appeared to be moving backwards and when they were far enough, I made a break for my car. Inside via the passenger door I fished out my key and started the engine then grabbed the radio comm.

“This is Mulder, does anyone read?”

I backed up on the access road and spun the wheel in the right direction. That sweet voice came through my radio once again.

“This is Stanz. Over.”

“I got eyes on Lodi. Shipment confirmed at Dock 3 at the Navy Yard, get anyone from the Southeast Division who isn’t asleep down here now. Beat cops, vice, narco, I’ll take whatever I can get. Take caution, he isn’t alone.”

I pressed the gas a little harder keeping textbook distance as I locked onto the cab. I clicked the comm again. 

“I’m in pursuit of an accomplice heading west on Waterfront Dr. It’s a taxi, plate number: TK-0421. Speedy Capitol Cab Company. Over” 

“Roger that. I’ll relay to Captain Skinner. Over and out.”

I tapped the break as I pulled around a corner and turned up Patterson Ave. then on to M Street. The cab slowed to stop at a red light a block ahead of me. Mighty nice of him to use a turn signal. He switched lanes and merged onto New Jersey Ave. angling towards Capitol Hill. The street cut a sharp diagonal and the famed white dome came into view. I heard my radio crackle but ignored it. My eyes felt like I had rubbed them with sandpaper, I hated to blink for fear of losing my target. I was dangerously tired, a second wind was long overdue. 

Street lights and neon bounced against puddles in the street. The rain had slacked off to the point where it was an annoying stubborn mist that couldn’t make up its mind if it wanted to stop or go full tilt. I had cracked my window and listened to the rush of tires on slick pavement, splashing in potholes and against manhole covers. 

The cab turned right onto Independence Ave. I tailed a little closer than protocol distance, keeping only one car between us. I missed the signal change and watched my target turn left on First St. Impatiently I waited for the signal, hoping I hadn’t lost them. After I made the turn I slowed down and searched for the taxi. I spotted it parked in front of the Library of Congress, parked like he was picking up a fare. There was a man standing on the curb holding an umbrella. I performed a u-turn maneuver and pulled into an empty parallel space, threw the gear shift into park and advanced on the suspect.

“DCPD!” I yelled as I approached the driver’s side door with my badge and gun drawn. The driver calmly rolled down the window and lifted a meaty hand from the wheel. A thick signet ring on his pinky finger looked like butcher’s twine around a sausage link. 

“No, keep ‘em on the wheel! Don’t move.”

He smirked and obliged. I held my gun on him and glanced in the backseat; a red ember glowed from the tip of a freshly lit cigarette.  

“Is there something we can do for you, detective?”

That voice. That distinctive snake hiss I couldn’t forget; it slowly coiled around like a wisp of smoke. The smoking man. Spender’s father. 

“Fancy meeting you here. Looks like you chose the wrong taxi tonight.”

“On the contrary detective, it’s you who chose poorly.”

“Yeah I have a knack for doing that,” I retorted, fingers gripping the handle of my gun, “Alright, you — out of the car. Hands where I can see them.” I pulled the door open and took a step back, letting the goon out. I made him turn to face the car, hands atop the roof. The smoking man leaned forward from the backseat, cigarette tucked between his lips.

“You have no idea what you’re doing.”

“Hey! You are next on my list.” I shouted then continued frisking the goon, finding a small handgun and a switchblade. I stuffed them into my trench coat pocket.

“Careful, you’re gonna make me stiff,” he said with a laugh as I patted his legs down to the ankle, finding another blade in a clever holster. I pulled out my handcuffs and clasped his wrists behind his back. I pushed my gun in between his shoulder blades, directing him toward the rear of the taxi and told him to open the trunk. I felt the heat from the exhaust pipe blowing against my pant leg, creating a small dry patch on an otherwise drenched pair of trousers. The goon shook his head and flipped the latch. The trunk appeared empty.

“Alright where is it?” I asked,

“Where’s what?”

“The package. The white package.”

“Ain’t no package here.”

I leaned in and felt around, searching for a latch or tab or something that would indicate a hidden compartment. As my free hand finally found what it was looking for, my occupied hand dug the tip of the standard issue deeper into a lesser known pressure point in the goon’s back. The pulled a section of fabric loose, revealing a hidden compartment that was packed full of white packages. 

Sirens wailed in the distance. I tossed the goon in the back of my car, adjusting his handcuffs so there was no funny business, then radioed in my location. The smoking man approached under the cover of his umbrella.

“I could have your badge for this, detective.”

“You can try.”

“This small incident won’t change anything.”

“Just keep telling yourself that. I have officers from every direction to bust up the little party at the Navy Yard. This is the tip of the iceberg and I’m willing to go all the way to the core.”

We stood silent, listening to the approaching sirens. The rain had finally stopped but the percussive sound of drips could still be heard in the surrounding trees. A plume of smoke wafted in the air. He was about to say something to me but a squad car had arrived coming to a stop in the middle of the street. Two unis got out with guns drawn. 

“I’m taking my suspect back to the 3rd,” I called out, “You boys can take this one for a ride.”

[goldentsum]

— white-smoked visions with tendou ♡

to: @ashsera​

from: the mischievous stars

— your relationship with him:

tendou is very playful and will always try to make you smile in every hour of the day. he also will attack you with kisses and every so often, he will litter your skin with love bites while he tells you that you’re sweeter than any chocolate he has ever tasted.

tendou is a great patisserie but god-forbid when he’s with you in the kitchen as you two try to bake/cook because he likes messing with the ingredients and kissing your cheeks, hugging, and tickling you. no one knows how you two ever get the food done tbh. also, even though it’s not his specialty, he would cook full-course meals for you.

this man would admire you with half-lidded eyes and a love-struck smile on his lips. if you ever make eye contact with him when he is in this state, you’d probably get shy with how much love is in his eyes and how he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters in the world. 

your relationship with him is innocent, filled with laughter and joy, and just so uplifting that it makes you breathless. he enjoys everything when he’s with you. 

if you ever bring up dancing and playing in the rain, tendou would be on board with no hesitation! just you, him, and the cold rain in the garden as you two dance under the grey sky. 

two of tendou’s favorite moments of all time are stargazing while talking about the future, you two’s future, and staying up til dawn to watch the sunrise, this moment makes his heart flutter whenever he looks at you because of how the orange light makes your skin look so beautiful and soft. oh, how he craves to touch you. 

he just can’t believe that you’re with him and that you love him as much as he loves you. 

— pictures:

— songs that describe your relationship with him:

puppy love - paul anka

forever and ever - demis roussos

— ending card from hoonie: 

thank you for joining in my event bb! you sound really cute omg :(( tbh, i made myself soft with this HAHAHAHA i hope you like this as much as i liked writing it!! you and tendou would fr be the power couple we all love!! <3 much love to you, bb!! <3

hoonie’s 5k event: open

[megastarstriker]

~{Unfortunate Events}~ 𝑨𝒛𝒊𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓  𝒙 𝑪𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒆𝒚 ---------------------------------------------- 𝓟𝓡𝓞𝓛𝓞𝓖𝓤𝓔 •·················•·················• ===============

“Faithful Encounters”

   Part One

=================================

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: Aziraphale x reader x Crowley

𝙁𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙤𝙢: Good Omens

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 1,298

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: She was just the new angel that day, only to be casted out on the spot, like a baby bird being thrown out of its nest to learn how to fly on its own against its will. She was an outcast and had no place or purpose there or even in the pits of fire. Now she finds herself reliving her traumatizing nightmare when she was child, as she counts the final days of the world’s demise as she plans ruining ‘The Lady Above’s Great Plan’.( I do not own Good Omens or its characters only the ones I create.)

𝑲𝒆𝒚𝒔 :

(Y/N) = Your Name 

(S/C) = Skin Color 

(B/T) = Body Type

(H/C) = Hair Color

(H/L) = Hair Length

(H/S) = Hair Style

(Y/A) = Your Accent

(C/N) = Country Name

(P/N) = Pet’s Name

(F/C) = Favorite Clothing

=============================================================

Falling..........

Falling...........

I  was Falling..........

At least that’s how it felt. The strong pressure of the fall and whistling of the wind as my eyes were closed not daring to look at what was happening and not being able to almost as if it was forbidden to me. I screamed but my voice was silent and only pitch ringing of church bells stroking were only heard through my ears. As my wings carried me downwards as I tried to flap my way up, I felt a burning sensation at the tips of my wings feathers. A haze of smoke traveling through my nose  causing me to panic. The pain of the burns wasn’t excruciating but it was indeed painful. Moving downwards I could picture the pure white clouds in the sky; feeling their delicate and soft touch grazing barely against my skin through my outstretched arms, small beads of sweats hanging at the tips of my (S/C) toes. My eyes releasing a cold liquid substance onto my (S/C) rosy cheeks, sticking to my skin as my (H/C),(H/L) hair flew gracefully in the wind surrounding me.

Was it the rain in the sky falling or was it my tears silently leaking down my face?

 I would never find out..

Because as soon as I opened my eyes...

I saw a group of shadows above....

a choir of laughs and whispers reaching my ears.......

Although blurry, my sight was focused on them...

I begged them, screamed, and shouted for help as I tried to fly my way out of harm’s way and towards them.

But they then disappeared...

Vanished.....

I was angry at them for being so selfish and insensitive that they couldn’t help...

I tried my best to steady my wings and force them to go up as I hissed in pain.....

But as I looked down to see the state of my hurting wings.....

I realized that my wings were missing and there was nothing residing on my back at all only glimpses of what looked like to be solid ground a couple a feet or miles away from me.......

I screamed at the top of my longs as soon as the solid ground were only mere inches away from my falling, (B/T) form.

__________________________________________

I bolted upright on my bed, as beads of sweat rolled down and dripped my freezing forehead, as I gasped for air. Propping myself on my elbows, I turned the lamp on my bedside table, and looked at the clock on the wall. As it was making a bell chiming noise, that alerted me it read.

𝟕:𝟎𝟎 𝐩.𝐦.

Then the chiming from the Victorian clock dissipated as soon as it hit ‘7:01′ A few moments later.

❝Stupid Clock❞, I muttered angrily in my American/(Y/A) accent.

Grabbing and throwing my pillow that was resting on my bed, at the wall a few feet below were the clock was pinned up, but purposely trying to hit the clock.

I groaned tiredly rubbing the dirt of my sleepy eyes and stretching my eyes as a small yawn came out of my lips. I then stood up, causing a slight creak as my weight left the warm, cozy covers and comforts of my bed. I approached the curtains and tugged them to the side to reveal the bright world and beaming sun from the other side of my window. It was quite sunny without a doubt, a great day for outside activities, like picnics, and walks on the park. I smiled a bit as I thought of going for a walk, as I looked down at the people who were walking across my apartment on the streets of London. That’s Right.

I live in Soho, London.

Not the grandest thing like I would’ve liked back in Sweet America/(C/N), but well enough to enjoy, I guess. Besides, I could switch countries whenever I want, its really one of the perks and miracles of well you know an angel.....or a demon....I really don’t have a clue right know, but I really couldn’t care less right know as much as I wanted to. My mood quickly changing its sour and angry demeanor to a sweet and giddy one as I watched the world doing its wonders and works. 

❛Speaking of works❜, I thought as I remembered my ‘human’ friend,❛Gotta get ready, wouldn’t want her to scream her head off because of me.❜ 

I laughed softly to myself wondering the look on her face, the color of a cute tomato in fury as she yelled at me for being late to meet her at the Ritz for some ‘sweet news’ and ‘gossip girl talk’ on her job as she liked to call it.

❝Well, better not keep her waiting❞, I muttered softly as I looked ahead at the window’s view from outside.

❝Right, Socrates❞, I said while not turning my head and still keeping my gaze fixated on the view.

I then heard a slight hiss from the glass box near the table next to me, keeping the beady and slit-pupiled eyed creature secured who was looking at me in a sassy manner.

I laughed lightly at its response. I had many names for Socrates, because well I didn’t know a name good enough for it to be official, so usually I would call him Socrates or (P/N) just to be respectful.

As I brushed my silky and soft (H/C),(H/L) hair, I thought about that horrible dream much said nightmare last night. It felt real, thinking about it gave me chills and goosebumps. Never even want to mention it or talk about it much.

I shook my head in thought and looked myself in the mirror after I finished brushing my hair and did it nicely into a (H/S) style. I then made my way over to the closet and picked what I thought would look nice and was great for days like these. I picked out a gallant looking suit it was grey and looked very sketchy but cute overall and it hugged my perfect figure nicely. It almost made me look like a business woman of sorts. I was still debating whether to wear this or something else from the other clothes I had, but I guess I’ll go ahead and try this for today and if the weather gets a bit hot for me I can always bring my personal (F/C) to wear later.

I then went down stairs and went to my bookshelf of my old collection of editions and went and grabbed one entitled ❛The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri❜ 

I hummed satisfied as I looked at the polished cover and took it with me in case I was bored and wanted to read. I put it in my bag and as I finished putting on any needed accessories on myself. I was off the doors of my household and walked down the pavement of the streets of Fancy Soho, London. Happily humming a sweet tune of  ❛Crazy Little Thing Called Love by Queen❜  as I walked with each step of my feet as a sort of dance.

Halfway at my destination I swore I spotted a familiar vehicle parked a few feet away from...a very classy Bentley and a beautiful one too. A very similar now that you can remember. I then heard a horn going off as I walked halfway past it abruptly stopping as I did. I then stopped and looked at it closer.

❛Hmm....❜, I squinted a bit at it but then kept whistling and humming Queen songs as I did and occasionally a few classics like Beethoven,❛ It couldn’t be ....I’m just imagining things ,huh.❜

Then as I kept walking through a crowd of people, I could catch a glimpse medium and wavy flaming red and ginger hair walking between the crowd of people. Then while I was distracted, I bumped into someone causing me to stumble slightly. I then looked up and saw something that made my eyes widen slightly and my heart beat faster. The person had ginger flaming medium length hair that swayed freely with each step and wore Jet black glasses, a very nice combination of outerwear consisting a leather jacket and greyish black shirt and pants with very classy dark shining shoes. What made him stand out the most was unnoticeable hidden tattoo of a snake below his sideburn.

❛ Crowley !!❜ , I thought.

But before I could confirm my suspicions he was gone in a flash and I lost sight of him.

❛ That could’ve been any ginger head man.... Right?❜,  I thought as I made my way to the restaurant.

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

This part one of the Prologue of my Good Omens Series on the next part we will maybe have an encounter with a lovely angel friend

I hope you enjoy~

[m-lesmxrales]

If The World Was Ending

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: loss of loved ones + some curse words

Summary: Even after the events of the snap, you always find your way back to each other. To the only person who still holds your heart in her palms.

Words: 2k+

Continuation - Come Closer

Laughter filled the room, music bouncing off the ballroom walls, cuisines, sweets and alcohol spread about. Many holding glasses filled with an exquisite liquor of their choosing. Children danced about, the pitter-patter of their feet drowning into the beat of the music.

The newly wedded giggling as they danced together, the brides pearl dress swaying, gliding, floating across the white marble floor. You swirl the white wine in your glass, watching the couple with a soft grin.

The bride locks eyes with a you, a soft smile growing before she excuses herself, sharing a chaste kiss with her partner before walking over to you.

“You know,” she coos “Olivia is single`” hooking her arm with your own, tugging on it gently. Your eyebrows jump, taking a sip of the sweet liquid in hand “And she’s mentioned once or twice that she finds you really attractive.” she adds. You hum, nodding as you continue to look around the room, catching sight of your parents dancing together “That’s great and all but I’m not interested, Lea-” you’re cut off by a whine, a smile gradually growing on your lips at your best friends childishness.

“Are you serious? You won’t even at least attempt to get to know her? Bring her drink, at least?” Leah shakes your arm, a frown setting in. You let out a soft chuckle, eyes finally setting on your best friend “Talk to her, yes. Anything that involves romantic tendencies? No.” You utter. Leah purses her lips, staring at you, clearing in deep thought, “What?” you let out a small chuckle. Never liking the way she stared at you when she was deep in thought, you knew she was either scheming or pondering.

The bride sighs’, placing her chin on your shoulder “Don’t you think it’s time to move on..” her voice is gentle “time to—find someone you can spend the rest of your life with.”

The corner of your lip perks up, you ask “Like you?” internally cringing. Not meaning for it to come out as bitter as it did. You couldn’t be happier for Leah, really. But the thought of you being in a moment just like this, in a moment of complete bliss with the one woman you loved. Truly love, from the bottom and top of your heart.

Joining two different worlds together, not too far off but different enough considering you’d been working for stark industry— merging friends and family together. Knowing that you were hers and she, yours.

It hurt, still hurts.

Two and a half years had passed since the event of the accords. Two years since she had called you from an unknown number, asking you to bring her bag of necessities. Meeting in a alley way where she had rushed out of a black car, grabbing the duffle bag from your hands. Leaving you no time to ask questions. The look of regret in her eyes, and god you’d never seen them look so glossy in the 4 years you been together. She kissed you goodbye in a hurry, lasting no more than a few seconds. Not a single word exanged.

Even so, it was what the kiss held. Not just how they felt against your own in that moment. It was the passion and sorrow. She didn’t need to explain, or to apologize, you knew what she had done was for a good reason. There was always a good reason behind Natasha’s decisions and you were sure you’d understand this one, eventually.

The only thing she had left with you, besides some of her belongings and pictures of the two of you together, was a piece of paper. You’d found it in your jean pocket weeks later. A bittersweet note, really. Yet, you couldn’t help the smile that grew upon your lips.

“You’ll always be my person.” - Natalia

“Thinking about her?” Leah’s voice drew you from your thoughts, her gentle eyes staring into the side of your face. You nod, because who else would you be thinking of in a moment like this? “Where do you think she is now..” you wondered, your eyes drifting down to your now empty glass “Considering the current events occurring- aliens invaders and what not, I’m sure she somewhere in the world fighting.” Leah hummed, a smirk of her own growing hearing you snicker.

Of course Leah was firm on continuing the same day of an alien attack— one of the things you loved about her— despite some of guests not being able to make an appearance. As long as it was in upper New York and away from the madness and everyone one of her guests were safe, she couldn’t care less. Today was her special day after all.

“Yeah, yeah she probably is-“ The sounds of glasses shattering cut you off, head snapping up. Silence cutting through.

The room that was once full of bustling people, laughter and joyful conversations. Now just filling with music. The once white marble floor covered in murky grey dust, food, liquids and glass mixed in. Some guests in daze, confusion, horror. Children and teens a like in a daze. Your breath hitches as everything seemingly slows down, eyes never shifting from the sight in front of you. Any other sound but your heartbeat drowning out the latter.

What the fuck was happening? What the fuck had just happened?

None of it made sense.

Your family.

Your parents. Your siblings.

Oh god.

Just as you take a step forward a voice calls out. “Y/N-Y/N.” A shaky voice breaks your trance. You let out a shaky breath, breath you didn’t realize you were holding “Y-Yeah?” You look to your right. _Leah. Oh shit, Leah. _“What-“ she rasps, her breath ragged. The woman grips onto your shoulders, fingers digging in as she gradually becomes weaker. You eyes dart down to her body, widening at the site before you.

“Your legs..” you mumble, arms tracing around her mid, giving her now—light body, support. Forgetting the glass in hand, dropping it completely “Everything is going to be ok.” You assure her, more yourself, eyes locked onto her own.

“Y/N-“

You watch as her face folds in on itself, crumbles. The dust dropping onto your arms and hands, covering them.

Your best friends ashes.

Those were her ashes.

Your eyes skatter about the remnants of her, your one of your closest friends. Your mouth props open as you try to speak, try to let out anything. But your throat is so dry, so tight, all the emotions you’re feeling just stuck there.

Everyone had crumbled into nothing but mounds of ash. All it took were a few seconds, that’s it.

Seconds.

——

Days.

Weeks.

Months.

It had been months since the events had occurred. It had taken you weeks just to get back to the city. Back home. With all the cars that had been abandoned during the dusting, the accidents that resulted from it. Hundreds injured, hundreds dead and with them millions gone. Because of him.

Thanos.

You knew the avengers were had done their best. Fought with their hearts and souls. Putting everything on the line, even their stupid fued.

What’s worse is some of the basic resources had holted in the last few weeks. Some phone services were down. One of them—unfortunately— was yours. The only time you were lucky enough to have any form of service was when you had wifi. Using social media to get in contact with with the rest of your friends and family. As well as checking the news.

You pulled your car into the driveway of the avengers compound, music playing through the speakers . The rain blending into it in the background. Being that you were still an hours away from the city, from your loft, you decided to bunk it out here for a while.

Not really sure who was left at this point though. You’d hope that at least half of the avengers were still around.

Hoping Natasha wasn’t one of the victims.

Turning off the car engine, the music coming to a hold, steady rain filling the void. Sighing, you throw your head back. The last thing you needed was to think about the ‘what if‘s’. They only made you more anxious with time. Maybe, the reason you’d felt so calm in the few weeks is because of hope. You had hope. Hope that she was somewhere, out there on earth.

Running through all the what if’s. What if she’s not here? What if she was badly injured?

What if she’s gone? Forever this time.

Swallowing back the lump in your throat, you look up, seeing a figure under an umbrella walking towards your car. Frowning with smidge of hope in your heart that it’s one of your long time friends at the least, you step out of the car.

Slamming the car door shut, squinting slightly as you slowly watch the figure get closer before it slowly comes to a holt.

And everything stops.

Your breathing, your thoughts, your heart. It all stops.

Because she’s there. She’s right here, feet firmly planted to the ground. A solid form. For the first time in three years, Natasha’s physically here and she couldn’t look any less beautiful since you last saw her.

And she’s looking at you, with those damn eyes.

Their screaming at you. So much emotion swimming in them.

The way she’s staring at you, like she’s hoping that it’s truly you. That it’s not her mind playing tricks because the last thing she needs is that. After all they’ve lost. After everything she’s lost. A cruel trick is the last thing she needed.

“Nat..” you rasp, as you take a few steps forward in front of the car. Your eyes glossing over gradually. Her hair may be a different color, a rustic blonde bundled in a pretty braid. Yet, you’d recognize her either way. Even without the signature red.

She doesn’t answer. She can’t find her voice to answer.

“It’s really you, isn’t it?” You let out a watery chuckle, as you walk closer. You need to know if it’s truly her. To see her up close with your own eyes.

As you step in front of her you reach up, placing your hand over hers, pulling the umbrella up. you can see how tired she is. How exhausted she must feel. You can only guess what she’s been through in the last few months.

You watch as a tear slides down her cheek. Then another, slowly dripping down. Brows knitting in you watch her features, because for the first time in years, you’re seeing her cry. Seeing a new emotion from her.

Natasha drops her umbrella, arms looping around your neck in a spilt second, pulling you closer to her body. “You’re here.“ she whispers in your ear, her fingernails scraping over your scalp. “I thought you were gone too.” She admits, pulling back to look over your features. “I went to your apartment, you weren’t there. I called you. I-“ She gasps “I didn’t stop looking- couldn’t stop looking for you.”

Nodding, you grip hold her tighter. You know she’d never stop looking, hoping.

Your thumbs wiping away her tears— what you think are tears, not being able to tell with the rain— before leaning your forehead against hers, end of your lip curling slightly “It’s ok..” you breath, trying your best reassure her. Knowing that those were the words Natasha needed the most right now. Maybe it wasn’t all ok. With everything that had happened, it wasn’t ok but in this moment, it was. And just ok was enough.

Because even if they World was ending, you two would always find your way back to one another.

Even if you two had decided to end things. That you weren’t meant for eachother, it was fine. Natasha would always be the person you’d want to spend your last day on earth with. Everything else would be irrelevant.

That you knew.

Leaning in, your lips brush against hers. Testing the waters, making sure that this is what she wanted. That her heart still yearned for yours just as much as your own did and it clear when she leans in, pressing her lips to yours.

Moving together with such passion. Such love.

You can feel everything she’s held back in the last three years with the way she’s kissing you. The unspoken apology, the regret, the love she couldn’t give you, and the relief. Relief that the person she held dearly, the person she wanted to be with for the rest of your days. Was here, right here.

You were are her person.

[alias-levi]

flash fic friday #7

for @liz-pooh . in celebration of the exams you passed. i got you and i love you 💙

i also want to say that I'm not 100% happy with what I'm written but I'm quite happy with how my initial draft of this turned out in the end.

i appreciate very much every interaction with this post! 💙

fandom: twilight word count: abt. 1,500 words pairing: Felix/fem!oc topics (and warnings): teasing, fluff, domestic!Felix, i gotta admit Demetri is only mentioned like twice, dancing salsa

summary: Liza, Felix and Demetri have been sent to Galicia, Spain to find out more about an old vampire. But it’s late summer and the days are sheer endless - and so is the time that has to pass before they can leave the house. Time to learn some salsa.

[ID: They learned how to salsa on a Friday night in the dim light of the kitchen.]

source: this prompt is from @poison-prompts (it's also #66 if anyone wanted to know) and the only thing that is different, is that it's not dim haha

thank you and the text is below the cut :) enjoy!

Spain is a beautiful country - especially in late summer. The mostly dry air makes it rather easy to breathe in the heat. The seemingly endless masses of tourists are finally travelling home and there are a few quieter weeks before the first winter tourists arrive, looking for a place to stay warm and cozy while their home countries drown in rain and snow. They come to Spain to escape the depressing grey sky, the short days and long nights. In late summer, the nights are still warm enough to even go swimming in the ocean - not that the temperature would have been a big concern for three vampires anyways.

Liza, Felix and Demitri have been sent to Galicia by Aro. Their order is to find out more about a male vampire that’s supposed to be in the area. He is rumored to be several hundred years old and to have explicit information on the Spanish royals. Aro has also heard that this vampire is not too friendly towards strangers and - that’s where Liza’s power comes into picture - is said to be one of the last dozen people who still speak an old Galician dialect.

Aro is not taking any chances.

So, he sent Liza.

Because that’s what she does: Whenever Liza talks, the recipient will, without a doubt, hear her words in their mother tongue. No matter how ancient, how rare, how complicated or hard to pronounce the language is. While Liza always speaks her own first language, German, the received sound will differ. This has caused quite some surprised reactions so far and Liza loves seeing people get excited and emotional about hearing the language their mother once spoke. Especially older vampires.

Aro had provided the trio with a nice small finca near Oia, on Spain’s north-west coast. It’s not exactly a tourist hotspot like other Spanish cities, so their area is rather quiet. Just like the long days in the finca.

With a sigh Liza turns yet another page in the book she is reading. Demetri had retreated to his room just after noon, leaving Liza and Felix alone in the living area. The dining table somewhere behind Liza is cluttered with files and documents that Felix needs to examine to make sure they did not overlook anything.

Another dramatic sigh leaves the female vampire’s lips. Liza throws her book next to her onto the cushions and dramatically turns her head to look out of the window front. From the terrace, through the garden and beyond the fence a narrow path winds down just to the coast. Their own private beach.

Still, there’s hours to pass for the sun to set eventually.

Liza listens to Felix drop his file onto the table. His chair gets pushed back. Only a bit, though. She can hear it scratching over the wooden floor. He doesn’t stand up.

“Querida, have you ever danced salsa before?”

Liza snorts. “No, I can’t dance anyways.”

“You could learn it. You've got a lot of time now.”

“And who’s going to show me? You?”

There’s a challenge in her voice and Liza turns just enough to be able to look over the back of the sofa. Felix is staring at her, his elbows resting on his knees, hands together, head slightly tilted. He looks intimidating. Like a predator preparing to attack his prey.

“Querida you forget where I’m from. I’ve been dancing salsa before I could even walk.”

“How come I’ve never seen you dance before then?”

“Well, I’ve been lacking the right... partner for that. Come here, let me show you.”

“No, thank you. As I said, I can’t dance.” Liza laughs and turns back around.

“Oh come on! This is going to be fun!”

“Make me!”

Liza’s book gets ripped out of her hands and hits the wall with a thud before falling to the floor. Still sitting on the sofa, Felix is towering above her. He leans down, one hand on either side of her. Felix’ face is so close, Liza can see her reflection in his dark red eyes and ever so often she can’t help but look down onto his lips. But she doesn’t get to do anything about it.

Felix winks at Liza.

Taking her hands he pulls her up and away from the sofa. Felix doesn’t let go of her hands when he takes another step back and turns serious again.

“Basic steps, querida. It’s not as hard as it looks.”

Liza rolls her eyes. “Fine.”

“Good. Now mirror me. Left, right, left. Right, left, right. Do it again.”

“Easy. That’s it?”

Felix smiles at her, “oh no. These are the basic steps that will stay the same all the time. Oh and you need to move your hips more.”

Liza’s eyes shoot up to look at Felix. A smug grin on his face.

“If you wanna see me shake my booty, you just had to ask, boy.”

Felix moves to stand behind his girlfriend and his sudden closure makes it surprisingly hard to concentrate. His lips are at her ear, softly touching it as he speaks quietly.

“Again, querida. Left, right, left. Right, left, right. Left-”

The vampire’s hands have been sitting loosely on Liza’s hips. Guiding them, his body as close as possible but still leaving her enough space. When she missteps, Liza rests her head on her boyfriend, groaning. Felix chuckles softly into her ear.

“Am I making you nervous, querida?”

“Nervous is not what I would call it,” she turns around in his arms. There’s an expression flickering through her eyes that causes Felix to swallow hard. “Let’s just say you distract me... Anyways, what’s next?”

Felix watches Liza bat her eyelashes innocently at him and it takes clearing his throat for him to find his words again.

“Right, right. So next we do this together. Come here.”

Felix doesn’t wait for Liza. He pulls her back in, probably a bit too far, but that is not the point. Liza laughs briefly and takes Felix’ hand. After making sure she’s good with the basic steps, Felix starts rotating them. Slowly but surely they make one round, and it is really coming together.

It’s cute how concentrated Liza stares at their feet, Felix finds, so he decides to spice things up by telling her to do a double step. Though neither vampire stops in their movements, Liza looks at Felix in disbelief.

“A double step?”

“Yes,” he smiles at her encouragingly, “I’ll count you in twice then we actually do it, okay?”

“Okay.”

Her answer is breathless but her eyes never leave Felix’. After a couple more minutes Liza gets the hang of it and feels safe enough to look at Felix again. He looks utterly happy and relaxed. She smiles.

Felix looks at his girlfriend with a proud face. “Close your eyes,” he tells her. “Keep the steps the same, that’s the only thing you need to concentrate on. I’ll do the rest. Trust me.”

And Liza does. Closing her eyes, she rolls her shoulders one last time and relaxes her hands. She can feel Felix move them around again, slow circles but not on the spot anymore. Felix leads them in bigger circles through the area. Once he feels sure enough that Liza will keep the steps, he starts moving faster. He watches her frown.

“You’re getting faster.”

“Correcto, querida. You’re doing great so far.”

Liza smiles and suddenly Felix’ hand leaves her hip. His other keeps holding hers and her free hand just hovers in the air. For three steps they stay like this, then Liza feels Felix’ chest under her fingertips again. She opens her eyes and takes the look in.

Smiling brightly Felix’ eyes never leave her face. His dark, usually very neat hair, looks a bit disheveled and his black silky dress shirt is halfway unbuttoned.

Quite a look, Liza thinks to herself.

But the female vampire doesn’t look less alluring. Tight black control leggings are hugging her curves and her white sheer cotton blouse has been unbuttoned a while ago. Underneath, a white crop top holds everything in place and covers about as much as it reveals.

Felix can’t take his eyes off her as they dance. Dancing salsa again after all this time brings back some memories he usually keeps locked away. But the woman in his hands keeps his brain routed in the present. By now, she is taking some initiative. Liza is putting more power into her steps and swings her hips just a bit more. When Felix’ eyes return to Liza’s face he watches her tip her head back and laugh. Freely. Happily.

In a swift motion, he brings their bodies together. He doesn’t need to tell her that they are no longer doing double steps. By now hours must have passed and their bodies are synced oh so well.

Reflexively Liza gasps for air. She raises her arms to lock her hands in his neck. Her eyes wide open as Felix’ hands cup her side firmly. She knows what’s about to come.

Then Felix kisses her.

[quaranteehee]

My friend gave me his cute (idk) idea offffffff....

AKAASHI KEIJI ANGST

Summary: you’re a young lawyer who is tasked to meet with a client at a restaurant. During mid-discussion, you recognise someone’s voice and spots his familiar figure out of your peripheral vision. He and his new partner settle in a table within your line of sight, which makes it difficult for you to focus.

- - -

“The contract is signed, but the chairman requests with another meeting to discuss the legal implications of-“

“Tch,” you click your tongue, dropping the file on your desk with an audible slap against the surface.

“(Y/n) are you even listening? Good lord if I find out-“

“Mizuki, you said that the contract has been consummated?”

“Yes,” your manager carefully says. “The chairman just wants to review some points- review the whole contract if you have to. Besides, you need the exposure.”

“Is that because I’m new?”

“(L/n) it’s because you’re young. And I don’t mean to offend you but based off on last year’s review, even the board has agreed that it may require more time and effort to get you used these sort of ‘abrupt’ meetings.”

“You’re not making sense.”

“(L/n), Mr. David Simmons is waiting in the damn restaurant so just get in there.”

You end the call and begrudgingly exit your car. At the foot of an old building stood a modern restaurant, the type that politicians would consider adequate enough to spend their mornings in, sipping coffee with a newspaper in hand as they read about their acts of “benevolence” towards their country.

As soon as you enter, a gust of warm air hits your face. Someone offers to take your coat, which you gratefully shrug off.

“Just on time! You must be Ms. (L/n)?”

A stout man with thinning, grey hair approaches you. He is clad in a navy coloured blazer with matching khakis and a white button up. A golden watch sits on his right hand, which hints at him being left-handed. Sitting on his pointed nose are silver framed glasses and you notice that there are lines at the corner of his eyes; he must have smiled a lot.

“Yes.” You hold out your hand for him to shake- which he gratefully takes. “It’s a pleasure, Mr. Simmons.”

You soon find yourselves seated by the window. Taking your IPad out, you decide to dive right into business. “I understand that the purpose of this meeting is only to review the agreement cited in the contract?”

“Right. We have already signed the papers but it would really help us if we go over it for a while? It should take long, only two points at most,” he assures you with a small smile, “Beg your pardon but I might as well go over them during dinner. I hope that’s alright with you, Ms. (L/n)?”

The man reminded you of your late grandfather. Besides, everything has already been put in place; all you had to do was to further explain to any questions they had. “Will do.”

David Simmons, you found, was surprisingly gentle and homorous throughout your discussion. It might have to do with the fact that the man had already expressed how sorry he was for troubling you at this hour (despite your repeated reassurance that it was nothing he had to fuss over.)

“... are you sure? It’s quite expensive, Keiji.”

Keiji?

You risk a glance at the young couple entering the restaurant and sure enough, your eyes did not betray you. A hearty chuckle emits from his chest as he pulls the woman closer towards him. Then he smiles; that damn smile that got you all the time.

The server walks them to a table in the far back corner of the room. They thank him and Akaashi makes his way to his date to pull her chair out. She smiles at the boy gratefully.

Your fingers tap irritably against the clothed table.

“Ms (L/N)?”

“Mr. Simmons?” You return cooly.

“Is something wrong?”

Whatever you do, you DO NOT let your personal life interfere with your jobs. Absolutely. Not. You have learnt this the hard way but seeing him again, watching him give away his love- the same love you have received- to somebody that isn’t you? A familiar ache settles in your chest as you resort to toying with your gold necklace.

“Mr Simmons, have you ever been in love?”

The chairman is taken back by your question. Following your gaze, his eyes rest on a blue haired boy. David Simmons looks back hard at you. “My first girlfriend’s name was Marie,” he begins.

Shifting your attention towards the elderly gentleman in front of you, you urge him to tell you more.

“We met in high school: I was in third year and she was in her first. Now, I played American football- with the gear and all that Jazz. Marie was a cheerleader. I remember when I got to know her name, which was by accident by the way because I tossed the ball at her thinking that she was my teammate!”

You laugh and reminisce about the time you accidentally fell on the second year boy: you were a year his junior. Rushing down the flight of stairs, you missed a step in your haste and fell onto someone. In the end, he helps you gather your papers which have been sent flying in the air.

“I’m so sorry..?”

“Akaashi. I’m Akaashi Keiji,” he says with an almost imperceptible smile.

“Now, Marie was a woman of wits. She was smart! Making it to all honour classes and all.. honestly? If you were to ask me, I wouldn’t know why she would love me. But she did.”

“I.. I love you.”

You pause, searching his eyes for any indication of hesitancy- any sign that may prove his words otherwise. “Akaashi..?”

“I know: it doesn’t make sense to me either. But (y/n) I love you. I love you to the stars and back. I- I love you.”

You were crying but a smile graced your lips.

“Say something.. please,” he begs.

David looks out the window, the soft evening rain blurring the view of the streets and city lights. You follow his suit. “I loved her. To the moon and back.”

The pink sky only added to the flush on his cheeks. The streets were desolate as Sakura flowers were littered against the pavement. Behind him, the afternoon sun cast shadows into his face yet his eyes- his eyes which displayed the colour of a sea before the storm seemed to experience a hurricane at that moment.

In your own way, an ocean spilled from your (e/c) orbs transitioning into a waterfall down your cheeks. “Akaashi... I love you too.”

“How old are you, Ms (L/N)?”

“21, Sir.”

“And that boy?”

You knew that Mr. Simmons was bound to , as soon as you realised that it would be near impossible to tame your emotions in your current state.

“Twenty-two.”

“Ahh.. yes. It was around that time-“

“What happened?” You eagerly inquire.

He smiles at you softly, just as a father would do to his daughter. “We were both aware that loving each other wouldn’t be a walk in the park. We would have endured the storms thrown at us, but sometimes... sometimes holding on is harder than letting go.”

“We can do it,” you shuffle desperately towards him and cup his face in your hands, “Keiji, listen, we can call everyday if we have to. Baby, we can make it-“

“Stop-“

“-I’ll come visit you, I promise. One every month maybe?”

“(Y/n)-“

“We can move together once I finish this last year. You don’t have to worry about-“

“(Y/N) LISTEN TO ME!” He raises his voice and slaps your hands away from his face.

You break down; every bone in your body is seared in pain as your blood burns in your veins. “Keiji..” you croak.

Watching you like this hurts him more than it hurts you. He knew you would move in with him without a doubt if he had asked you. He would marry you, and again, you would say yes. Once upon a time, Akaashi would have been completely at peace with the thought of a family of his own- a family you had created with him in a tiny village at the country.

But darling, darling you were destined for something great. You were blessed with a brain to think of unfathomable universes; to think up the solutions to solve the most gruelling maladies; and so much more. Akaashi Keiji knew this- he was more aware of this fact more than anyone. Maybe, even more than yourself.

“No, (y/n). We can’t..”

You watch him, “Keiji.. keiji,” you utter out his name repeatedly in hopes that it would make him see some sense, “ I love you.”

He doesn’t hide his face now that it’s stricken with fresh tears. He wants desperately to rush over and hold you in his arms. Above all, Akaashi wants desperately to say it back. Instead, he turns on his heel and leaves.

You stare at the traffic light as the colour changes from red to green, followed by engines revving in response. “D-do you still-“

“I always will.”

A tear escapes your eye. “How can you say that?”

“Because there’s a part of me that just.. does.” He watches for a reaction and continues, “I think, for me, it’s because I chose to love her. It wasn’t based on pure emotion.  Time heals, doesn’t it? Yet it also destroys. Time, therefore, does not limit itself to emotion. What makes love greater than time itself is the fact that it is a choice- a choice to care for the other person for richer and poorer, and till death do you part. It’s a choice that you make without any regards for your own happiness, but theirs.”

You stay silent. You didn’t know what to say. Akaashi claimed that he didn’t know how or why in the world he had fallen... but he chose to act on his feelings, and he chose you.

David’s voice is softer, barely a whisper: “but I don’t regret it...”

Memories that you had desperately tried to push at the back of your mind resurface:

When he held your hand during the school fair as you walked between the booths.

When he took you to an aimless walk at three in the morning as you held each other and danced to the rhythm of the sky changing its hues from a twilight purple to the gentle orange of dusk.

You remember when you were smiling so much in the photo booth as the camera took your pictures together; how in the end, he unexpectedly pulled you into a kiss.

“... I don’t regret her one bit,” he finishes.

All this time you watched Akaashi from across the room eye his new girl with eyes full of wonder. He takes her hand in his and they get up from their table, heading out the door before disappearing into the cold, Tokyo evening.

“Ms. (L/n).. a word of advise from an old man: don’t regret him because you loved him.”

“Mr. Simmons, I don’t have any regrets...

Because I still love him.”

[padfootagain]

Girl Crush (XVII)

Chapter 17 : Before The Water Lilies

Here we go again for a new chapter!!! We stay in the very cute Christmas spirit in London for these two idiots pinning for each other like crazy... Warning for extreme fluffiness, side effects might include a lot of 'awwww' and some hearts melting, you've been warned!!!

I hope you like this chapter, tell me what you thought about it!

Word Count: 2603

Trafalgar Square exceeded your expectations.

There was someone dressed as Pikachu dancing to Staying Alive in front of the majestic National Gallery, people hurried to avoid the sharp cold moving around the tall column and the fountain. Many tourists took pictures in front of the black statues of lions. A little crowd had gathered around a man playing guitar. Traffic was loud and dense, red buses and dark cabs and random cars driving around the square and passing under the Admiralty Arch. A woman was drawing mountains on the pavement with chalks.

Your eyes glimmered with joy and awe and excitement, and Harry was grinning from ear to ear at the sight.

You were going to the National Gallery that morning, and you couldn't wait.

The sky was grey and seemed low above your heads, sign of imminent snow or rain. But a moody weather was far from enough to stop you from exploring the city.

"Are you ready?" Harry asked, guiding you across the square and towards the large museum.

You nodded, clapping your hands together in excitement, jumping a couple of times instead of walking, making him laugh.

"They have some of Monet's water lilies, you know?"

"I know. I've been there before."

"And some De Vinci…"

"They do."

"And Van Gogh!"

"Indeed."

"And Turner, and Cézanne!"

"Are we attempting to name all of the painters that have their paintings exposed in there or…?"

You swatted his arm playfully, rolling your eyes.

"Sorry, I'm just rambling," you mumbled, but he nudged you, making you look up at him.

"I was just teasing you. I like it when you ramble."

"You like it?"

"Yeah, it's cute."

"Cute?"

He shrugged, suddenly realizing the meaning of the words he was speaking out loud, and he thanked the cold for giving him a perfect excuse for his flushed cheeks.

"I mean… yeah…" he stuttered. "Come on, hurry up! I'm freezing out here, and I need a wee!"

You laughed at him, but let him escape for this time around, and hurried with him to seek shelter from the winter wind that seemed to be cutting through your cheekbones.

The entrance was set in a more modern hall that the famous columns overhanging the square, with a wall made of glass and a large boutique to buy souvenirs. You studied the map of the museum while waiting for Harry as he went to the bathroom, and when he came back, you had a plan for the visit, to which Harry didn't complain. As long as it kept this grin on your face, he was up for anything.

The halls themselves were as majestic as you could have imagined, large stairs of stone and pillars and high ceilings and cracking wooden floors. You made your way through the halls, travelling through time from De Vinci's and Michelangelo's sketches to the grave figures pictured on Flemish paintings to the stormy oceans painted by Turner and the weird shapes of Picasso's works.

Every hall offered surprises, little gems that you liked more than the rest. You walked with Harry never leaving your side, whispering to each other either to make stupid jokes and shushed giggles, or to comment on the paintings you admired.

You walked around and spend time revisiting your favourite paintings, and you settled on a bench in front of your absolute favourite: Monet's water lilies.

Harry was resting his head on your shoulder while you both stared at the paintings, studying the touches of paint and movements of the brush that seemed to have scared the colours across the canvas. People passed around you, sometimes blocking the view, but you didn't care. There was something peaceful in sitting in the art gallery, surrounded by these paintings that had taken so many hours to make, for sure; in the rhythm of the crowd moving all around you and the shushed voices speaking in many languages, most of them that you couldn’t understand and sometimes not even recognize. Life felt slower in there. People's movements were not rushed, they took only little steps to move through the room, stopping before each painting, taking pictures of their favourites.

And Monet's painting in itself was soothing as well. Green and blue and touches of white and pink and purple to paint the bridge crossing the little river covered with waterlilies, their tiny white shapes lost in their large leaves. It felt like you were there, almost. It felt peaceful, tender. A little haven in your busy and fast life. Crazy how the painting of a place you had never visited could echo through your chest, make your heart slow down, shush your thoughts, make your limb a little numb and your lips curve into a smile as you studied its beauty.

And there was also the fact that Harry was by your side. You had taken off some of your warm clothes and opened your coats. He held both your scarves in his hands, resting on his laps. His brown curls tickled your neck, his head heavy on your shoulder, the pressure reassuring, a welcomed weight to carry as if it had felt empty without it, as if his head was meant to rest there, fitting perfectly into the shape of your shoulder and neck. Your knee rested lightly against his bruised one, after the fall of the previous night while ice skating. Your two arms were pressed together, and you had to admit that you were eager for the contact, welcoming every new inch of his body touching yours. It felt reassuring, natural. Almost meant to be. You felt safe with him so close to you.

"Did you know that when Monet grew older, he couldn't see well anymore," you let out in a whisper. "He was sick, and he couldn't see clearly shapes and all the shades of blue and green."

"Really?" he asked, lifting his head just a little to tell you he was listening, but not enough to disconnect your two bodies in any way.

"Yeah. I don't remember the name of the disease but… he spent years and years and years going back to that same spot to paint this bridge. And as his vision deteriorated and yet he kept on painting, the shapes became less and less clear in his paintings, and all the shades of blue and green he painted red or purple instead."

"I didn't know that. It must be terrible though… You've spent your whole life painting, and then you get sick, and your vision falters. And you can't do the only thing you're good at anymore. What can you do then, if you can't do the only thing you have talent for?"

His voice grew quieter as he went on, and you wondered if he was still talking about Monet when he was done.

You shrugged.

"You find other things to live for. You find another purpose. You still have everything else: your family, your friends, the people who love you, other hobbies and places you've never explored to go to. You still have sunrises upon frozen rooftops and strawberry ice creams in June and ducks to feed at the park. So I guess… even if it's hard, you just keep on going, only, you bend your own path to fit your new life instead."

He slowly nodded, and the worry that had made him frown seemed to have melted and turned into a soft smile.

And perhaps it was because he was so relaxed looking at these paintings, or perhaps it was because all he could smell was your perfume to a point where he forgot any other scent he had ever breathed in, or maybe it was because of how his head rose and fell just the tiniest bit every time you breathed, or maybe it was because of how close the two of you were in general and he was too tired to stop it from blurring his mind… he wasn't sure why, but before he could think them, he had uttered words he might have wanted to keep for himself. Sometimes, the most earnest words were the hardest to keep quiet though.

"I hope you'll still be there when I'm old and can't sing anymore."

You rested your cheek on the top of his head, slowly nodding.

"I'll always be here, Harry. Don't you know that by now?"

He smiled, just like you did.

"You know what? I think I do."

You were sitting on a bench watching ducks paddle off down the pond.

It was cold, and the clouds were still white above your heads, and the more time passed, the more you were certain that they were about to break.

Saint James's Park was a cute little park. With trees and patches of grass and ponds and ducks, even though at this time of the year most trees had lost their foliage, and most flowers were still unborn. The grass wore white glitter made by the frost under the shade of bushes and trees, hidden places that the sun couldn't reach to make the ice melt. You watched a few sparrows flying around while you rubbed your bare hands together, punishment for forgetting your gloves at Harry's. And you felt sorry for the little birds, they must have been so cold without shelter…

"If I were a bird, I think I would like to be a swallow," you blurted out, making Harry turn his attention to you again instead of the ducks in the brownish water.

"Hmm?"

He had taken off his beanie, and the tip of his ears were made crimson by the biting cold. The tip of his nose had the same shade too, and you found him absolutely adorable this way.

"I mean, it's nice!" you went on in a dreamy tone. "You leave for the South when it becomes too cold around here, and then you come back when it's warm and sunny again. Plus, your return means that spring is coming, you carry lovely meanings in your flight."

Harry's lips curved in a tender smile, and he slowly nodded.

"You're right, it's nice."

"What bird would you like to be?"

"I don't want to be a bird," he shook his head, a playful glint alit in his eyes. "I'd rather be a fish."

"A fish?"

"You have the entire ocean as a playground, so many adventures ahead. Wouldn’t that be nice?"

You laughed, but nodded anyway.

"It would be nice indeed."

"So you can be a swallow, and I'll be a fish."

"What kind of fish?"

He shrugged.

"The kind that lives near swallows."

You couldn't refrain a barely noticeable gasp, before smiling at him in the softest of ways.

"Well then, let's do that for our next lives then. Harry the fish and Y/N the swallow."

"Sounds good to me."

Harry noticed how your kept on rubbing your palms together and moving your fingers, blowing puffs of air against them to warm your skin. He remembered then that you had forgotten your gloves at his place that morning.

So he took his own pair off, and took your hands one by one, putting his large gloves on you.

They were so warm after he had worn them for some time, it was reassuring, and your painful skin almost instantly felt like it was burning instead of freezing.

"You're gonna be cold," you protested, although you didn't stop him from taking your other hand in his, his long fingers oozing warmth through your skin. He wasn't wearing any of his rings today and his skin was gentle and soft against yours, just like his movements.

"We can share. For now, you're the one who's freezing. Better warm your hands up before your fingers start falling off."

"Ha ha ha! Very funny!" you crinkled your nose and rolled your eyes, making him laugh.

Harry was about to tease you some more when he was interrupted by the sensation of something tiny yet very cold touching the bridge of his nose. He squinted quite ungracefully, trying to see what had touched him, before rising his bare fingers to his face. His skin was a little wet.

But then he spotted a white snowflake caught on your scarf, just as your eyes grew wider as you realized what was happening.

"Harry! It's snowing!" you gasped, a grin splitting your cheeks and digging cute creases at the corner of your eyes.

You looked up at the sky with eyes glimmering with excitement while Harry looked at you instead. You were so happy and beautiful…

It was starting to snow harder and harder with each second ticking by, and Harry mindlessly reached for his phone. He barely thought about what he was doing as he captured your picture in this moment: you were laughing, your arms and hands extended before you to catch the snowflakes. You examined the crystals with a curiosity and joy that could have belonged to a child. And it made his heart feel warm and big and growing even more as if it were filled with sunshine and couldn't keep the light in…

As he checked the picture again, he reckoned that he had found his new lockscreen.

You giggled in the most adorable way as a couple of snowflakes made their way between your scarf and your collar, making you shiver as they landed at the base of your neck.

"Ha! It's cold!" you squealed between your giggles, making Harry burst out in laughter.

"Do you think it'll snow enough to cover the ground?" you asked him, but your friend could only shrug.

"I don't know. It wasn't even supposed to snow today."

"Well, they got it wrong."

"It's nice that they were wrong on that one though, don't you think?"

You nodded.

"Yeah, it's nice."

Harry grew quiet again, grinning and turning his face to the sky to feel the frozen droplets against his skin, closing his eyes and reaching to hold the sleeve of your warm coat, as if to make sure that you would stay close even if he wasn't looking. As if he were afraid you weren't truly here, and that if he let his eyelids fall, you would disappear in thin air or be carried away with the snowflakes. But you had no intention to go anywhere.

You watched him as he threw his head back, face towards the sky, enjoying the stinging cold of the snowflakes delicately fall onto his cheeks. His hair was already stained with snow, white dots caught in the mess of his brown curls, and a few of the ice crystals had been caught on his eyelashes as well. He didn't seem to mind though. He was smiling, beaming even. Your heart seemed to be growing in size, and your whole body felt relaxed and warm. A smile formed on your lips, tender and gentle, and there was no way for you to refrain it. You wished you could run your fingers through his hair and keep them there just like these snowflakes hanging at his curls.

You noticed every detail of his face, every crack at the corner of his eyes that came with smiling, how his dimples grew deeper, every tiny mark on his skin, and every barely noticeable freckle, and the tiny crack on his lips caused by the cold…

It was overwhelming, sometimes, the situation you were in.

And you wondered then if you would ever feel that way with Gareth too, because deep down you knew that one day, you would have to. Perhaps it was time to try harder to do so…

*******************************************

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[brooklynislandgirl]

📝

Bits and Bobs || Accepting

Two glasses of wine deep and Mikhail has a new game. His fingertips glide back and forth across her wrist and maybe it’s distortion or the fact that everything is surrounded by a nice Sirrah glow but he feels far closer to her than he actually is and that the intensity of his dark eyes seem to block out everything else. Maybe it’s both and she doesn’t realise it yet, but she is very agreeable in this moment. She takes one last sip for the moment and sets her glass down on the coffee table before narrowing her eyes {inadvertently scrunching her nose while doing so} and tilting her head to one side, considering the first question carefully.

what color reminds your muse of mine?

“Oh, dat one easy,” she says as soon as it processes through her mind, distilled into its rawest essence. “Midnight blue. Now you’d t’ink I’d go black but you’re more subtle dan dat. You’ve got depths an’ shallows an remind me of a star strewn sky ovah Mount Ka’ala, highest point on O’ahu, part of Waiʻanae mountains. If ya nevah seen da view from dere, den ya nevah really live an’ it scare me jus’ a lil cause I no like da dark but I t’ink I’d brave it t’ show you. Like take you to see, not shoyu...uh..soy sauce.”

~*~

what song reminds your muse of mine?

“Bob Dylan’s Make You Feel My Love. F’I close my eyes, I could almost imagine ya sitting at our piano an’ singin’ it.” She gives a little blushing shrug and clears her throat. It’s a fraction of a key off, and without accompaniment it might sound a little rough.

“When the rain is blowing in your face...And the whole world is on your case...I could offer you a warm embrace...To make you feel my love...When the evening shadows and the stars appear..And there is no one there to dry your tears...I could hold you for a million years...To make you feel my love.”

~*~

what scent reminds your muse of mine?

“Dere’s dis library in Prague, da Klementinum, and is one of da most beautiful kine I’ve ever seen. An’ I know ya sit dere an say ‘but Beth, dat no smell...but it is. Subtle. Dream of a million books, paper, parchment, skin. Da binding of glue an’ leather an’ wood. You can smell da ink, too an’ alla bits used t’ make it. An’ dere’s a cleanness, a dustiness, an’ from people, dere’s a hint of colognes or perfumes, no kine quite distinct enough to linger. And of course dere’s always a lil bit coppery tang, a sharp but never cloying sorta aftertaste. And when I breath ya in, is...is like dat. Bes’ way I can describe it.” ~*~ what meme reminds your muse of mine? It’s the first time she’s pulled out her phone in hours. Unlike most people of the modern age, Beth isn’t so attached to the device that she needs to be on it every sparing second, and certainly when she is spending time with someone, they are her sole focus. Her little fingers fly over the screen on their search and is seemingly ignorant to being observed.  Moments like these are rare, when she doesn’t seem painfully aware of every detail in the world around her and the shy smile that blooms is unrestricted, uncultured, and a little crooked.  “Here, dis one.” She offers him the phone.

~*~

what sound reminds your muse of mine?

“Jus’ before one storm break, da air all but crackles wi’ ion particles dat ya can feel dance on ya skin. An’ den it get really hush, holdin’ it’s breath. The tide doesn’t roar so much as it hums, expectantly. Tentative kisses on da sand, an’ even da trees shake deir branches before goin’ all still. It’s a combination of all of doze...da loudness an’ da stillness...dat you remind me of. Only happens on ocean coasts, is nevah da same inna city, an’ pity dat.”

~*~

what setting reminds your muse of mine?

“Somewhere in da English or Scottish moors, when da sky all grey alla time, an’ every kine is misty an’ green, despite lack of sun. Some kind of dilapidated country estate li’dat Thrushcross Grange from Wutherin’ Heights. One of them white shirts and dark pants. Boots up to your knees. Lurking in half-glass windows. Mebbe is haunted, mebbe not. I can see you ridin’ horses too, for wha’evah is worth.”

She laughs. Takes her glass off the table and gestures at him with it before looking away. It’s too easy to picture him like that. And to come up with a dozen what ifs. It almost feels a little silly. She lifts the wine and takes a less than delicate drink.

~*~

what fashion style reminds your muse of mine?

“Dat one coat of yours. One with all dem buckles an’ and silver buttons? Or mebbe a cloak, long an’ dark an’ fluttery in da wind. ‘S nevah dat ya look bad in regular clothes, I mean you make any kine look good, really. Like should have been a model or somet’ing...but I dunno. I jus’ t’ink ya can pull off more historical kine wi’out making it look...cheesy. I t’ink it mebbe your cheekbones or jus’ how slinky you are.” ~*~ what feeling does your muse associate with mine?

This particular one saw the levity drained out of her and enshroud Beth in a sense of...confusion. Brows knit above her gaze and her eyes themselves darken not exactly with suspicion but something in the relative neighbourhood. She grows both quiet and nervous at once. She is silent for almost a full minute. 

She neither explains nor pads out her answer. “Longing.” ~*~

what animal does your muse associate with mine?

“Uhm...” It’s hard one-eighty degree turn from where she’d been to where she’s going with this and perhaps she’s more specific than she ought to be, but if experience has taught Mikhail anything is that Beth’s brain tends to latch onto ideas like lifelines. “Pallid Harrier. Circus macrourus. Is a migratory bird kinda like a hawk or falcon. Scientific name from ancient Greek, in reference to da way it circles its prey in flight, an’ possibly da long tail. Tends to breed an’ hunt in eastern Europe, an’ dere’s a rare kine variant dat live in Britain. Is a beautiful an’ deadly creature, preys on small vertebrates an’ sometimes fish. Doesn’t really belong in da world of man...well, people. Like putting an angel or a god on display an’ den aksin’ dem to treat it wi’ respect.”

~*~

what holiday does your muse associate with mine?

“Midwinter. Or Yule. Whatever ya wanna call it, is da winter solstice an’ da longest night of da year. Traditionally celebrated to appease da Wild Hunt, or out of fear of it. I dunno. But as wi’ mebbe all winter holiday, seems like da key to it is celebratin’ with a feast, drinkin’, an’ a sacrifice. Mos’ people now a days forget dat winter ‘til spring were once called da starvation months....an’ by giving up dat blood, dey were ensurin’ survival as well as da sun’s rebirth. But I mean dat in a good way, not nearly as gruesome as it sounds. Uhm...mebbe giving a couple days an’ I come up wi’ some kine mo’beddah an answer.” ~*~ what season does your muse associate with mine?

“Winter. Is my favourite... all da t’ick an’ warm clothes ya get t’ wear, an’ snow...which true story...nevah did see until I came t’ New York when I was sixteen. It was so weird an’ wonderful an’ I kinda fell in love with it. Like waddah-sky-glitter, too hard f’ explain. It’s cocoa an’ coffee, an’ it’s long nights inside with a fire in da hearth, and cuddling up, reading an’ stuff undah da blankets, an...too... Winter’s da best time to surf, da conditions are perfect for killah swells. But like me, I t’ink you prefer da quiet, dim, an’ jus’...intimate nature of a quiet winter night.”

[dansnaturepictures]

23rd July 2021: Purple Hairstreak and more at Lakeside Country Park and home 

In more great sunshine I took the first picture in this photoset early on of Starlings out the back. With later in the day seeing hoards of them taking off together too this capped off a brilliant few days of seeing more Starlings around at home which has been great I have enjoyed this and its reached that point it seems to each summer where with the ever growing youngsters with the adults they are around in such high numbers. I took the second and third pictures in this photoset on the way to Lakeside on my lunch time walk of a nice view and the big bindweed in the hedge line. 

I got into Lakeside and went along to the area north of the steam railway station. Walking through an area under trees here which I had found last year with it very thickly vegetated now I just herd a scuffle of something going up the tree when I was right under it and it transpired I’d startled a Grey Squirrel and I got exceptional views of it first beside me on the tree then above me. I tweeted a photo of this in quite nice light on Dans_Pictures tonight. I stumbled across an intimate mammalian moment and there was another as I walked on and came to the gate into the southern nature reserve fenced off area. I didn’t go in there today but very closely the other side of the fence and gate were the cows which I have enjoyed seeing a lot of at Lakeside again this spring and summer. The traditional black and white one which I got a picture of the other day I didn’t quite fit all of it in and it wasn’t the best quality so one to show the experience a bit was prominent and I managed to get a picture I was more pleased with of it today which I tweeted too. I got the fourth and fifth pictures in this photoset of this beautiful area. 

And walking on here and then along the path, the area behind the visitor centre and then in front of it at the shore of beach lake another Big Butterfly Count with the survey a week old now was under way for me. With four Marbled Whites seen here during the count it fared well in this area north of the steam railway station, five Small White and four Gatekeeper were dominant too with five and four seen respectively Gatekeeper still on the increase. Meadow Brown ruled the roost once more at lunch time with twelve seen and Ringlet with two as well as my first Peacock in the count this year an important one behind the visitor centre were very welcome to see too. For some extra ones during the counting for the 15 minutes two Small Skippers was great to see again and excitingly once more behind the station where we had been told White-letter Hairstreaks go a couple of years ago a hairstreak flitting along a tree line. I couldn’t be absolutely sure what it was between the two as it did not land and I had to stand in a little bit of a road to see it but I did see it. This was brilliant to see. As I progressed towards the lakes I enjoyed taking in new plants for Lakeside for me plants I’d not often seen at Lakeside before black mullein which I enjoyed last year and valerian which I had seen exactly a month ago today and photographed I photographed a squirrel that day too but a red one in Anglesey that day at the Dingle. More nice ones to add that I can say I’ve seen at Lakeside in this big year of flowers for me here which has been brilliant. Mallow made a great sight here too a great pink one.

It was an avian fest next as I walked around the lakes with a collection of things I don’t often see. A Woodpigeon on a water troph and as well as the Mallards I commonly see on a flood a Moorhen too in the southern fenced off nature reserve area beside beach lake. As well as nice views of the Greylag Geese including a much older youngster in the sixth picture in this photoset, I took and tweeted a portrait picture of one of the adults too so that was different in itself, I saw Jackdaws bathing in beach lake and flying off. Leaving me to ponder as to whether I’d ever seen a waterlogged Jackdaw before and this star bird at Lakeside whilst working at home did look different wet. I took the seventh picture in this photoset of one of the Moorhens when it moved to the lake.

Black-tailed Skimmers and Gatekeepers danced along the path between the two fenced off nature reserve areas as I walked back home via here. 

Then coming up the steps and crossing over the railway tracks and the moment of the day occurred. I was astounded to see a Purple Hairstreak flying and then settling on a leaf right beside me. It was a stunning and exceptional view of this diamond of a butterfly one of our greatest species. I felt so honoured to be able to be so close to this incredible species. It was just a joyful and amazing few minutes I was in aw of this butterfly making out its intricate and stunning markings. I got a photo too the eighth in this set. Among my best of the species for sure in the seven years I have now been seeing them and it really was perfect because I bought only one lens out at lunch time with limited time in the end and that was my big lens. Admittedly I could have got something with the macro my usual one for butterflies but there’s every chance it could have erratically flown off as they do so I may not have got very close as you need to with this. Like the road with me crossing the steam railway track on a strong bit of thoroughfare I could not linger here so it was a bit of a smash and grab to get the photo and move on quickly I admittedly checked the first few when over the track and thought they maybe looked not be as sharp as they could be so I went back for more, so the big lens was perfect for poking itself out to secure the shot. One of my most thrilling Lakeside butterfly moments this year and ever and key butterfly moments this year for me. I remain so pleased and it feels surreal that this summer especially July butterfly is at my local sight. I am so so proud. 

I wanted to come back out this evening to do another Big Butterfly Count where it all started for me this time last week the bits I know as Marbled White meadow at the east of the site, to compare it to that and other counts as I’d not done an evening one yet so was using my regular Friday evening second walk which is very often here to do it. And it became the perfect comparison as the around 11am start of heatwave first count last Friday contrasted this evening with it getting a tad cloudier whilst still seeing some sun nicely too I am lucky to say and the temperatures going down. This did make this count (link to it here) https://bigbutterflycount.butterfly-conservation.org/count/14525417 a little less numerous in butterflies overall but I felt I luckily saw a lot still. The slight change in weather meant there was a lot of butterflies sitting rather than flying with Gatekeeper and Comma especially catching my eye from a little way away landed some really great views. I got photos of both of these and it was that hit I needed a bit to get some butterflies back into my pictures especially with the macro with me this evening going alongside the Purple Hairstreak as this year for photos of butterflies I maybe have been a bit inconsistent and not seeing so many landed whilst its just brilliant to see them of course. The Comma I had only got into a count once so far this year that very first one and it wasn’t the clearest view so it was great to see this Comma. Red Admiral a highlight too and at the end of the 15 minutes as I watched a Kestrel overing high over the meadows the bit I call Kestrel corner as they are there a lot I was just thinking is this to be the first Lakeside count I don’t see a Marbled White the one on my list of favourite butterflies I’ve seen most in the counts this year and so well and then a couple flitted about at the top of the grass and I watched them seeing them well for a bit with a third soon joining as I headed off home so they came in at the last minute. 

I took the final two photos in this set of interesting sky scenes when home tonight. Box Tree moths were around as the rain came before bed. Another very memorable week of photos and sightings during working days. Thanks for all your support this week, I hope you all have a great and safe weekend. 

Wildlife Sightings Summary: Two of my favourite butterflies the Red Admiral and Marbled White, one of my favourite dragonflies the Black-tailed Skimmer, Purple Hairstreak, Small Skipper, Peacock, Comma, Meadow Brown, Gatekeeper, Ringlet, Small White, House Martin, Kestrel, Starling, House Sparrow, Carrion Crow, Jackdaw, Mallard, Moorhen, Canada Goose, Greylag Goose, Box Tree moth and another moth.