#i realised that my shelf next to my bed is like. perfect for getting them started

[mozki]

im shopping for weed seeds this is so fun omg

[thesparklingwriter]

the stars don't shine as bright as you...

“And what of it? Am I not allowed to praise my wife?”

tags: established relationship, fem!reader, fluff, reader is overworking herself and zhongli says NO MORE A THAT

masterlist | ao3 link | taglist | next

The best part of any of your days is easily when you can curl up in bed and relax for a while before you go to sleep. It wasn’t always like this, however. You used to work until it was time to go to bed and spent hours tossing and turning before sleep called your name, but Zhongli put a stop to that fairly quickly. He’ll quietly sneak up to your desk and tell you when to relinquish your work and head to bed when he notices that you’re too engrossed in it to realise the time.

“You’re still working, love?” He says quietly to you one night, glancing over your shoulder at the papers you’re working on. He knows they’re important to you, but he also knows you’ve been working on them so long that unless you take a break, you’ll be unable to pick up any inconsistencies or mistakes.

“Mmm,” you reply quietly. “I have to make sure it’s good enough.”

“I am certain it is of an impeccable standard.” he says quietly. It’s then that you notice he’s starting his nightly routine of trying to drag you away from work to get you to bed, and you begin to dig your heels in.

“It’s not enough. This needs to be perfect, otherwise my boss won’t be best pleased.”

“I assume your boss would be more displeased if they had to contend with their best employee when she’s sleep-deprived.” He says quietly. “Come to bed.”

“You’re so clearly biased.” you scoff, looking up at him as he rests his hands on your shoulders, gently kneading them.

“And what of it? Am I not allowed to praise my wife?”

“You’re not allowed to try and tempt her to sleep with honeyed words.” You sigh, putting your pen down. Zhongli smiles slightly when he notices your compliance, gently pulling you into a hug as you stand from your desk. He’s right, and you know he is, but it doesn't make it easier for you to drag your eyes away from the pages of paper strewn across your desk. As you let him lead you upstairs to your room, you notice that the sun has long since settled, and the stars are beginning to twinkle in the sky. Usually, Zhongli would have pulled you away from your work earlier than this. You wonder if he was equally busy and simply forgot, or just knew that you would want the extra time to look over your report.

Your husband is quiet as he settles himself in bed, and you change into one of his silken pyjama shirts. You pretend not to notice the shameless way he watches you as you change clothes, or as you scour the bookshelves for something to read. You could have sworn you left the book you were reading last night on the third shelf, but it’s nowhere to be found.

“Did you reorganise the shelves?” You ask, as you try to reach the fourth shelf up. “You reorganised the shelves, didn’t you?”

Zhongli’s unruffled gaze persists as he replies. “I did. I thought it might be more favourable to organise the books by last name, rather than first.”

“Did you have to put my book so high up?”

“Despite my attempts to avoid doing so, the method of organisation required it, yes. Does it displease you that much?”

You sigh at him then, having retrieved your book and being met with his faux innocence. He looks strangely regal with his hair untied, and the first few buttons of his golden embroidered shirt undone, his head cocked slightly to the side as he pretends to not understand your mild irritation at his actions. His eyes follow you as you crawl into bed beside him, opening your book to the bookmarked page. You never have any recollection of putting the bookmark in your book nor where it comes from in the first place, but you simply assume you do it without realising before you sleep.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

You lean against Zhongli as you prepare to read your book, and he hums lightly in response. You always assume that he isn’t following along, that he’s simply preoccupied with his thoughts, until he gently holds one side of the book’s pages for you so you can be more comfortable, and reacts to the words on the page with an affronted sniff or a preoccupied hum. When you look at him, as if to ask ‘did you see what that guy just did?’ whenever something unfavourable happens, he enthusiastically  returns your incredulous stare every time. Sometimes you wonder whether he drags you to bed because he wants you to sleep early or because he wants to know what happens next.

When he feels your head slump further against his chest, and the pages of your book flutter as you release your grip on it, he carefully retrieves the bookmark from wherever you’ve stashed it, placing it a few pages back from where you’ve left it.  You never remember the last few pages of what you’ve read the next night and it leaves you reasonably frustrated every time.

He gently pries the book from your fingers, waiting until you’re deeper into sleep to move you so you can sleep comfortably, and places the book by your bedside table.

© 2023, thesparklingwriter. please do not copy, edit, repost, or translate.

notes: is this self indulgent? yes. it this my blog first and foremost? also yes. will i do it again? most likely.

taglist: @thelonelyarchon @aixaingela @medusuu

[hannahssimblr]

The day I leave the beach feels like the last chapter of a book. I awake that Wednesday to change. The sky, which held steady and cerulean all summer, perfect, porcelain, is a mottled grey as clouds roll in over the beach. I swim, early in the morning, in a sea that is choppier than before, the waves crashing over the rocks and tossing foam into the air, and over the shore now slimy with seaweed.  

I spot Liam in his wetsuit, board in hand, and I wave. He waves back, and I have the striking realisation that this may be the last time I ever see him.

I say goodbye to Joe and Kasper at the door that morning, their PlayStation games and the half-filled bags of Doritos they never finished bundled under their arms. 

“Good luck with it all,” says Joe. “We’ll see you around.” It’s a thing you say to a person when you’re not sure you will, and as I watch them go from the window, there’s a finality to it. It’s like I’m watching them leave, not just with their games and their snacks, but with a phase of my life, too. We’ll never be together in the same way, and never be these exact versions of ourselves again. 

Shane is the next to go. After a thorough clean of the bedroom, the sheets washed and dried and put back on the bed, ready for next summer. He drops a hand onto my shoulder. 

“Good luck in Germany, yeah? Maybe I’ll come and visit.”

“You should.”

“Yeah, I might.”

“If you do, I’ll see you there.”

He nods and ducks through the door, and to his back, I shout “Good luck in college!” He lifts a thumbs up into the air, and he’s gone. 

And then there is Jen. With a click of her last suitcase, she has packed up, and in the empty house, there’s nothing to distract us anymore from the new, yet ever present rift between us. 

We’ve barely spoken since the festival. I haven’t known how to, despite her pleads, and made a big deal of getting Kasper to sit in the passenger seat during the ride home. I asked him all kinds of questions about himself, realising only then, to my immense guilt, that it was the only bit of effort I had made with him all summer. 

I spent the days between then and now away from the house. Swimming, cycling, driving into town and just looking around, reading a book while the last of the summer tourists milled about, still in their flip-flops and sun hats as though they hadn’t noticed that autumn had already taken up residence in the shadows. 

I’d come home before dark and stay in my room while the others watched their movies and played their games. One night, I heard Jen crying softly in bed. I didn’t ask her if she was okay. 

Now, once again, I avoid her as she sits on the floor surrounded by her bags, by arranging a stack of books on the shelf. One of my sketchbooks is there, complete with a thousand drawings of the summer. I leave it where it is.  

A clock ticks somewhere in the room. 

“I’m sorry you’re so mad at me,” Jen says to the back of my head. 

“Same.”

“I still think you should give me a chance to explain myself.”

I sigh. “I’m not ready to talk about it.”

“Okay. Have you seen her? Have you talked to Evie?”

“No, I haven’t.”

I turn around to see her hugging her knees to her chest. She looks remarkably small like that, and her hair, which was so bright in June, has faded with the salt water and the sun, and now her brown roots are showing. 

“I think I’d like to get the bus home.” She mutters.

“That’s alright. Do you want a lift to the station?”

“No thanks, I’ll just walk.” 

I don’t argue, and before that hour is out, she, too, is gone, and I am the last man standing. 

Turn off all the lights, switches and the hot water. Store the garden furniture. Leave the fridge running. Double check ALL doors and windows are locked. 

This is all contained in a cheerful email from my father, followed by a paranoid diatribe about all the catastrophic things that will happen to the house if I fail to comply. There’s something about a potential flood or explosion in there, I think, but I barely skimmed the bulk of it.  

Thanks for the essay lmao.

I write back.

Be home at 2.

I do my last check of the house, then stand by the door for several minutes just looking at it. The kitchen, once a hub of activity with friends chatting over breakfast and a sink full of dirty dishes, is now deserted, immaculate, and quiet. I realise I hate endings. I do not want to dwell on things anymore, or be sentimental, or hang on to the past. 

I lock the door behind me and get into my car without another look back.

Beginning // Prev // Next

[ace-of-gay]

Hey hope your doing well I was wondering if I could maybe request a fluff fic with Stephen and male reader where the reader accidentally gets stuck and locked somewhere like the basement or attic and he tries to get in touch with Stephen cause he doesn’t know what to do and starts to have a bit of a panic attack and when Stephen gets home he tries to look for reader and contacts him and realises he’s stuck he helps him out and sees him having the panic attack and tries to call him down

Stuck

Stephen strange x male reader

Word count: 1,376 words

Warnings: house cleaning, panic attack in decent explanation, dark rooms, being locked in a dark room

Edited to the best of my ability

Reader is male whether it be cis or trans its not specified, no weight, ethnicity or hair type mentioned, reader is at least somewhat abled enough to go around and do house work.

It started by wanting to declutter your space, so many old supplies no longer in use but still worth keeping for a later time when the interest returns, and some clothes that are only pulled out for winter, thicker blankets needing to be put away as well.

Setting the day into motion you got up extra early, having thought about your plan all night you had laid still in bed as long as you could until you no longer could, making coffee for your husband and your personal preference of a wake up drink to spike your energy.

As Stephen walked into the room a smile cast upon your face.

He’s already dressed for the meeting this morning at the tower, he’s insistent on driving instead of using ‘sparkles’ as you tease him, you had spent ten minutes in bed telling about your plans for the day, asking him to help you unlock the storage room door because its heavy and finicky at times.

You hand him his coffee in a reusable to go cup and kiss him goodbye “you have a good day handsome, I’m just a call away” he remarks on his way out.

Putting your headphones on and turning on your upbeat playlist for a but more motivation you got to work, going through the many rooms, folding up clothes you want to put into storage and clothes you want to donate, changing the bedding, taking the thicker duvets and blankets off of the bed and putting them in vacuum bags, taking all of the storage stuff into the room placing it on the selected shelf and going through the others already in the room finding what of the selection you wanted to bring out into the cycle of new to lighten the season.

Picking up your favorites you take them out of the room going to wash the new choice of blankets fit for the season and temperature, a small change to your room to keep it interesting for your mind, always something small or big changing enough for you to not get bored of your spaces.

After the first blanket has gone through the wash on a simple spin and rinse cycle you follow it with a few others for separate rooms.

Taking this time to shoot a text over to Stephen that there were some things you’d like to take to the goodwill in the next city.

Eating a small quick lunch, finishing up on the wash and dry cycles of the blankets and bedding you continue on to your shared room, making the bed just how you both like it, following that with the spare bedroom with some reorganization when the bed is made, tossing a couple new throw blankets onto the couch, but still you had much more need to move and do stuff in you.

Heading back to the storage room you pull out the box lighter clothes from a shelf and take them to your room, unpacking them into your dresser, your phone dings letting you know its battery was in need of being on the charger so you stand up crossing the room and putting your phone on the charger.

Looking around at everything you decide there’s just a little more needed to make everything feel done so you collapse down the box and take it back to the room and look around for that little something that would add a perfect finishing touch.

For the last time today you flick on the light and this time nothing happens, in response you flick it up and down a few more times when you decide to just use the scattered light from the hallway to see the best you can.

The glint of something on the shelf on the far wall on the top shelf you reflexively grab the step ladder completely forgetting that its what was holding the heavy door open so when you open the step ladder while standing at the far corner of the room and you see the cast of limited light that spilt into the room now grow smaller until the heavy door slammed shut with a smack of a click to the lock, you’ve just gotten yourself locked in the room.

You feel out your way to the door, using your hands to look for a lock latch to unlock the door pulling as hard as you could when you couldn’t find a latch.

Taking deep breaths of stuffy air trying calm the fizz of anxiety that lit a suffocating fire deep in the pits of your stomach, like acid reflux its trying to make its way up your throat in shivering and choked panicky gasps.

“Just gotta find the window” you tell yourself.

You’ve never actually taken time to admire the layout of the room, had you ever done so you would have realized it’s the equivalent of a basement, while it doesn't have bare concrete walls it doesn’t have windows, just vents in the ceiling.

Feeling the walls each one as high and as low as you could making your way through the dark capsule of a room, when you make it all the way around the room and find yourself at the door once more but this time with the realization that this room is a cell of stuff that holds temporary time outside of it, hoping to yourself that your husband would soon come home and find you missing and find you.

You not at all sure how long you’ve been in here for but its long enough for your voice to be crackly and broken up by desperate panicked sobs, whether its deemed masculine or not you don’t care whatsoever, anxiety doesn’t follow gender norms especially when it decides to eat your rationality and instead leaves you feeling like your spiraling and going crazy, your phone in an entirely different room you have no idea how long it’ll be until you get out, its given your mind plenty of silent time to hear your thoughts chime in that, that ‘silly’ fear of the dark never went away, it just became more rational, if you could hear your thoughts outside of your head they would be the smallest whisper so far away but the echo off of the cold concrete floor while your tears fell from tour cheeks to the ground and sniffled sobs sang around the silent room, it was you and only you, drowning in every sound of yourself in desperation.

Your not shivering cold but instead trembling terrified, that is until you heard a sound of the door being played with and the light from the hallway finally leak inside, “dear? Are you in here?” He sees the light blanket you, in a flash you’re up and hugging him tight, he leads you out of the room, the light overwhelming your eyes he leads you to the kitchen where you sit in a chair eyes shut lightly to adjust to the light, silent scratchy cries fall from you, from how overwhelmed it had you the fire that started in your stomach earlier grew and made it’s way through your entire burning, your sanity feels like it’s the shambled ashes of a burnt down house.

He sits with you easing you to drink some water for both your throat and dehydration due to crying, you finally get to a place where the occasional hiccup interrupts your explanation of what happened.

He held you the entire time you explain everything, rubbing your back, occasionally reminding you that you’re okay now with a complementary kiss to your temple soothing you back the rest of the way from the roaring fire of sickening anxiety, the fire is merely a dying spark in a dark room , you’re okay now.

“I tried calling you to see if you wanted me to bring anything back and you never ignore my messages so I got worried and im glad I had done so because im here for you now my love, im so sorry I wasn’t here when it happened”

Talking it over you both decide to order in dinner tonight and stay in and cuddle, in each others arms, watching comforting movies and falling asleep in one another’s arms

My mom bought me a book to read and i told myself i couldn't read anymore than the first three chapters until i finish this fic

[remcycl333]

hi rem!! 🫶 anon no idea if my previous asks went through cause i sent them a while ago but update on those updates my 3d is changing like surprisingly rapidly 😭 basically since ive been seeing so much about states, the 4d, and your inner man i decided to give it a shot since i used to just ignore that info because it confused me. i realised that i purposefully change states alot anyway thats how ive been shifting into realities where what i want to happen, happens!! i gave it ago the other morning i just sat down and thought about my 4d, gave myself what i wanted there and went on with my day

- since then my parents have been crazy nice to me!! im like the trouble child i used to get yelled at constantly but theyre so lenient with me even when i do something wrong i only get a little scolding, my mum even offered to do my laundry for me and let me put my baby brother to bed (cause she knows i like doing that) literally as im typing this she texted me to say that she'll vacuum my room

- theyve been buying me a bunch of new furniture for my room!! my 4d room is way different and the day that i changed my state they showed me a bunch of cute furniture similar to the stuff i have in my 4d and i got it the next day, today i got 2 big shelfs and my dads picking up a new bed!!

- i was nervous about texting my friends because i thought theyd be upset at me (ive been awol for like 2 weeks) so i pictured my 4d, assured myself that we were all good there and then she told me she WAS mad at me but once i texted her she was surprised that she really wanted to keep talking

- my 16th birthday is coming up and we're driving out to the coast, i wanted to swim w dolphins bc thats a big attraction in the town we're going to but my dads really overprotective and said no. i was rly bummed so i thought about doing something in the ocean for my birthday in my 4d and felt better so i let it go, and then my mum found a snorkelling w seals thing that she got my dad to agree to!!!!

thats all for now im about to go look for birthday outfits cause ive already found the perfect one in my 4d and ik ill find it in my 3d 🤷‍♀️ anyways ur the best again what would i do without ur blog rem ly 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

omg!!! you're absolutely killing it!!! i hope u have the best birthday ever!!! <3

[joshuasearing]

Thursday 20th April 2023

Hey journal so yesterday was good I started the day of by firstly getting up and getting ready for the day then my mum dropped me off to the gym when at the gym I did a push session and it was good. After I finished in the gym I ended up being stuck on the toilet for about 10 minutes straight. Anyways after this me and caitlin met each other outisde the gym once she got there. I quickly went into the cafe and got myself this brownie flavoured chocolate shake. Then after this me and Caitlin went to a couple shops to get some things. As Caitlin needed to get some things. Also in one of the shops both of us got a energy drink called p***y so not a great word but we made a lot of jokes about the drink. Now it just sits at the top of my shelf. Then also in one of the shops I bought myself the original flavour of the tyson fury energy drink as I am collecting them and I have all of them now I think. Then after this me and her walked to my house as she was sleeping round mine. When walking we had an in depth private conversation and sort of explained both are sides of the situation and sorted everything out. Then after about 25 minutes of walking we got to mine. Once we got to my house we relaxed in my bed for the next few hours and watched films, youtube and also just relaxed with each other. At one point we started to watch black widow as I have never really watched marvel and I want to see whether I like it or not. Anyways I ended up loving the film. Anyways whilst we were watching this Caitlin ordered us a takeaway papa johns which was really a nice, and was a nice thing for her to do. We ended up ordering a meat feast pizza, bbq chicken wings and also this massive warm chocolate cookie cut up in 8 individual services. By the end of the food I was in a food coma to say the least I could barely move and It made me feel really bloated and tired. However it was really nice. Also at the end of the night me and Caitlin watched the simpsons which was actually really good, I love the simpsons. Midway through watching one of the episodes me and Caitlin fell asleep.

Today has been ok we started the day of by relaxing, then shortly after we got ready to get the bus as me and Caitlin needed to go places. She needed to go college and I needed to go to the gym. Anyways we ended up getting to the bus stop as soon as the bus arrived it was perfect timing. Then shortly after I got of the bus and said bye to her quickly on the bus. At the gym I did a pull session and it went well like usual. After the gym I went to Icelands warehouse and bought myself these tyson fury caffeine energy gum things. I also bought myself a protein shake strawberry I got it instead here as I realised they sell protein shakes cheaper in icelands warehouse compare to the cafe. Anyways after this I walked home. One I got home I made my documenting my mental health video on tiktok, Wrote in my book journal and also done my spanish on duolingo. I am now on a 52 day streak on duolingo I think when it comes to learning spanish. Anways after all this I went out with my mum and we went to the yard for my dads business. I helped open the container for my mum as she needed to get paperwork out. Anyways at first we forgot the code then after a while we figured it out by looking back through messages on my mum phone from the past. After this we drove back home and on are road near are house their was this pigeon and my mum very nearly run it over as it did not fly out of the road although it had loads of time to see us coming. It left it right until last minute to fly away. Anyways I will speak to you later journal. Bye journal!

[thed3adpoet]

so, my friend @propaganda-for-poets did this dps playlist with time accurate songs and i decided to do a headcanon for each of them.

Lonesome Town: Pitts and Meeks are slow dancing in the cave and Todd is sitting in the back, crying while he thinks about Neil.

I Wanna Walk you Home: Knox is singing this for Chris when she get out of school, she's laughing and he's making funny faces.

Are You Lonesome Tonight?: Charlie is packing his things after being expeld, he looks at Cameron side of the room, his eyes tear up a bit, but he tries to ignore. Cameron comes into the room after Charlie left, he sits in the bed and just stares at Charlie's bed.

Everybody is Somebody's: Charlie tell's Neil he kissed Cameron, Neil pretend to be heartbroken "you cheated on me? i can't belive it", and Charlie laughs so hard because it's been a while since Neil was so playfull.

You Talk Too Much: Charlie arguing with Cameron, again. Cameron said something about his parents friend being a doctor, and Charlie was done with it "you don't even know the guy, stop talking like he's such an inspiration". He's jealous.

This Magic Moment: Anderperry first kiss. They're is their room, Todd was giving Neil heart eyes when Neil was rehersing for the play. Suddenly, he got up and kissed Neil, but he got so anxious that he tried to pretend it didn't happened, but Neil hold his hand and kiss him again.

Poetry in Motion: Knox is writing Chris a poem, the poets see it and make fun of him, but later Todd goes to his room to ask if he needs help, and Knox start to praise Chris while Todd laughs softly.

Walking to New Orleans: Neil is getting ready to go to the theater to the first rehalsal, and Charlie jokes that Neil is abandoning them to be an actor, and that the next thing he'll do is run away to New York.

Paper Roses: Cameron is feeling so bad about what he did, but what's hurting more is the way Charlie reacted, how quickly he turned on him, and he cries. Alone, without friends and without his boyfriend.

('Til) I Kissed You: Meeks is doing his homework, Pitts is working on the radio. They're being akward because they just had their first kiss, Meeks is still red in the face. Pitts turn to Meeks and confess all his feelings, he's fidgeting and being so cute, and Meeks can't resist, so they kiss again.

Come Softly to Me: Neil and Todd sneaked out to watch the sunrise, they're almost sleeping, is the begining of spring so it's still a bit cold, Todd shiver a bit, when Neil realise he put his arm across Todd's shoulder, and they stay like that until the sun rises completely.

Among My Souvenirs: After Neil's death, Todd realises he doesn't own almost anything to remind him of Neil, the only thing he has is a copy of the Midsummer Night's Dream script, that he got before Mr. Perry had Neil's things taken out of their room. The script is all annotaded, little ideas on the lines, entrance markings, but something caught his eye. On Puck's final monologue there's written "i can't wait for Todd see this".

What in The World's Come Over You: Cameron is an adult, he's a doctor, he has a family, a house, the embodiment of the american dream. But sometimes, in secret, he takes Welton's Yearbook out of the shelf, and he traces Charlie face, and he remember.

The Old Lamplighter: Is the first time the poets have a reunion in years, and they try to read poetry, they try to talk about their lives, but all that they can talk about is Neil. They share stories about him, they imagine how he would be if he was with them, and it's like they can feel his presence.

Dream Lover: Pitts is pining for Meeks, he love him so much, but he can't say. He just stares and hope that Meeks somehow guess that he likes him.

Let's Have a Party: Pitts and Meeks managed to take the radio to the cave, and the boys rejoice in it. They dance, they sing, they have so much fun, laughing their asses off when someone does a silly dance, is the perfect night.

Save the Last Dance for Me: Pitts and Meeks are dancing in their dormroom, they hold hands, they trip on their own foots and they're having so much fun.

So This is Love: Neil is looking at Todd reading, they're in their room, then Todd looks at Neil and smile "what are you looking at?" he ask, Neil says "Nothing" then gets back at studying his script.

Primrose Lane: Knox getting ready to a date with Chris, the boys are with him making fun of him, but he's just smiling while the song plays softly on the background. In the end, when Knox is getting out, the poets are all taking turns cheking him to see if everything is perfect.

Poison Ivy: Charlie is on the showers playing flirting with the other boys, he rises his eyebrowns, flex his muscles and everything.

It's Late: Cameron and Meeks are trying to convince the boys to go to sleep after a dps meeting, they're exasperated because the boys just can't get themselves to go back at Welton. Eventually they give up, and only then the others decide to get back.

Only You (And You Alone): Cameron had a nightmare, and Charlie wakes him up with kisses and soft touches, they get back to sleep in the same bed, cuddling, after a whispered conversation that lulled them to sleep.

Loving You: The radio is playing in the cave, Charlie is singing, using the god of the cave as a mic, he serenates for all of the boys while they laugh at his antics, but Cameron is flustered and pretending he's hating every second

[wastedyouth-wasteddreams]

After the fall (part 1)

If youre wondering what happened afterwards:

She began to stir, as she heard a holo from Jackie coming through.

One eyebrow raised and only able to open her right eye she answered tentatively

'Hey Chica! you got home ok!?'

'I uh...seem to be in one piece' She patted herself with her hands checking she still had everything where it should be.

'but my mouth tastes like the floor of the coyote.'

'Gotta delta chica"

She could hear Misty's voice telling Jackie to go to sleep, and Jackie insisting he had to reheat a chimichanga as he hung up.

She sat up, pulling her arms from her shirt and throwing it to the floor, only there was a wall in the way. With a confused look she opened her eyes and realised that although she had made it home last night, it was not HER home she had made it to. She was alone in bed, with a glass of water sat next to her phone and her jacket folded neatly on a chair.

'fuck' Her eyes darted around to find something familiar, but nothing was triggering her memory. The bedroom door was open, and in the darkness she could make out someone sleeping on a couch in the next room. As her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, she could half make out the shape of the figure, and caught a glimpse of one heavily tattooed arm. The shoulders were broad and toned, and he was wearing a white singlet. A single boxing trophy sat on a shelf above the couch, and she realised she was at Viks.

There were some memories from the night before intruding on her thoughts. Drinking at the Coyote with Jackie...falling down the stairs...she didn't remember talking to Vik, but had a strange memory of trying to get into the clinic.

Walking to the open door, each step her surroundings became clearer, and so did Vik. The neon lights from outside the shutters gave his skin a pinkish glow. His large frame hardly fit on the depth of the sofa, and he didn't look especially comfortable, lying in a semi fetal position with his arms folded. Suddenly she became aware of the smell of sandalwood and smiled.

'hey....Vik' she spoke softly as she approached wearing her singlet and her beer stained pants from a few hours previous, unsure if she wanted to wake him or not. He rolled onto his back with a heavy breath and let out a quiet sleepy moan as he stretched out his arms, returning them to be folded across his chest. She leaned over him and whispered again,

'Vik...'

His five o clock shadow was a little more like a short beard in this light, and without his glasses she could see the scar across the bridge of his nose. His shirt was tight to his body, and she found it a little odd that he was still in his work pants.

She poked his shoulder, wrapping her other arm around herself.

'i'm cold. i want a cuddle' she jokingly sulked at the sleeping man in front of her, hoping he would wake.

His arms unfolded slowly, one hand reaching to scratch the nape of his neck, one stretching out beyond the edge of the couch.

'c'mere kid' his eyes still closed, but his voice was as warm as ever.

She crawled over one half of his chest toward the back of the couch and lay her head on his shoulder. Instinctively, his arms wrapped around her, fingers sat comfortably on her hips. In turn her hand and cheek rested on him, raising and falling with his breath.

'Do you want another blanket for the bed?' He looked down at her and rubbed his hands over her skin back and forth, feeling the chill disappear.

'No. You're perfect warm' she shimmied her body into his and felt a kiss on the top of her head.

Wrapped up with each other, the sounds of Night City seemed silent. Only their breaths and calming humms of comfort hung in the air. He felt her move, and pulled his arms away so she could reposition herself. She only moved enough to press more of her body against his, her head lifted and their eyes locked.

'Did you come all the way to the clinic to pick me up?'

'I couldn't leave you in the stairwell could I?' He traced his fingers down the side of her cheek and followed her jawline. A brow raised as he smirked

'Even if you shot my door'

'Thankyou Dr Vektor'

She leaned to him and pressed her lips against his in a show of gratitude. As she slowly pulled herself away, he lifted a hand to the back of her neck and chased her mouth with his own, catching her lips between his. Vik, surprised at his own lack of self control flushed bright red and felt his skin burn up.

'Maybe I'm just getting old, but I don't think thats appropriate behaviour for a Dr' He spoke into his chest, feeling the tightness of guilt surrounding his stomach, and tightness of the growth below his belt.

'Well, i see no stethoscope?' She pretended to search for it around the top of his shoulders.

'Also no recorder, or glove...seems it's just me n Vik here' His gulp was audible as she stretched a knee over his hip, enclosing him between her legs. She sat up and watched his eyes following the curves of her body with his hands rested on each of her thighs. She could feel his body responding to her touch, but was cautious of crossing a line. She had been crazy over him since the first time he shook her hand. Stood in the clinic that day, the man towered over her small frame, and so gently entered into her personal space. His hand was firm and strong, and as he smiled at her, she felt a fluttering in the pit of her stomach. Vik was her ripperdoc, and he was damned good. She knew she would rather stay friends than mess anything up, but she didnt realise he felt the same way.

'Is this...i mean, are you sure?' He ran his hands slowly up her legs, silently begging for her to give him permission. Her head nodded in quick movements as she bit her lip and placed her tiny hands over his, drawing him up under her singlet. He could see his hands through the sheer of her top, and watched them carefully gliding over her skin as she held his wrists lightly. He cupped the underside of both breasts running his thumbs across her nipples with a slight pinch. Without realising it his hips pushed into her, causing her to moan through a deep breath as she felt his growth push against her, exasserbating the waves of electricity already flowing through her body.

She felt his knees lift behind her as he pulled his chest to meet hers, whilst lifting her top over her head and down her arms, her breasts bounced softly with every movement. He kissed at her hungrily, and the feeling of being wanted, being needed took over her senses. As thier lips explored one anothers, she rocked her hips back and forth, easing her own need somewhat with the friction. Her hands grasped at the lip of his pants, using them to pull herself down on him.

As his hands wondered across her naked skin, she felt herself shuddering. Before she realised she way agressively pulling his top away from him, as he fumbled at her zipper, desperately seeking her warmth.

[hobis-hope94]

~ He Promised Bonus Chapter! ~

Parings: Dad!Bucky x Mum!Reader

Characters: Rebecca Barnes (your daughter) & Sam Barnes (your son). Steve Rogers is mentioned.

Y/E/C - Your Eye Colour

Y/H/C - Your Hair Colour

Warnings: absolutely none!!!!

Life couldn’t be more perfect if it tried. You and Bucky were now married happily for 2yrs - yes married. You, Y/N /Y/L/N, got married. You never imagined you would, not after Steve ripped your heart out.

Bucky’s purposal was absolutely beautiful. He took you to the theatre, after the theatre you two went to a restaurant that has become your favourite, then another moonlit walk in Central Park. He purposed under the stars. The wedding was even more beautiful.

You two got married in Wakanda, it was a beautiful wedding. Your dress was pure white and had butterflies on the longish train. Your three year old daughter, Rebecca, was the flower girl and your three year old son, Sam, was the ring boy. Your wedding was beautiful. It was you, Bucky, your beautiful twins, the Wilson’s and their friends and family (who soon fast became yours) and the Wakandans.

It was one of the best days of your life - one being the first date with Bucky, when Bucky purposed to you and the other the day the twins were born.

Life was just getting more and more perfect and you’ve never felt happier.

———

Your twins were now five years old, you three were at your apartment waiting for Bucky to return from a mission - you retired as an Avenger to look after your babies, though occasionally you did chime in and help.

“Mommy, what’s in that box?” Rebecca asked, standing in front of your book shelf that Bucky built you especially the week after Steve left.

You looked up from helping Sam with his drawing, Rebecca was talking about the memory box you kept of Steve’s things. The ring he gave you. The letter he sent you and his dog tags. The twins knew about Steve, not enough of what he did to you, just the basics - that two five year olds could understand.

You stood up and went over to it, she was making grabby hands towards it.

“I’ll show you my angel,” you said gently.

You picked up the box, then you bent down and placed her on your hips. You gently sat her down on the chair and took your seat next to your Sam, who had stopped colouring to listen.

“Before I met your daddy, there was a man. You remember me telling you about Steve, don’t you?” You ask your babies, they nod, “well. These are the things Steve gave to mommy.” You said, your hands were a little shakey as you opened the box.

You forced tears back as you saw the letter first, his stunning handwriting and how he wrote your name with such care. Both Sam and Rebecca peered into the box.

“Oh! Steve has the necklace like daddy has!” Sam piped up, noticing the dog tags.

“Yep. Your daddy and Steve served together in the army. You know, Sammy, your middle name is the same as Steve’s,” you said gently, brushing his longish hair out of his face.

He smiled at you, as he gently picked up the dog tags in his hands.

“Daddy said Steve upset you. Why do you keep some of his things?” Sam asked as he looked at the dog tags, tracing Steve’s name with his tiny finger and Rebecca peered in the box.

“Because …. If Steve hadn’t left me, I wouldn’t have realised my feelings for your daddy. If that never happened, you two wouldn’t have been born,” you said gently.

Both your babies smiled at you and it warmed your heart.

“I suspect Daddy will be home soon, and we have made a mess. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” you said as Sam handed you back Steve’s dog tags.

“Okay mommy!” The twins chimed.

You smiled. You followed them to the bathroom and got them ready for bed. Once they were in their jammies (matching of course, you really ARE THAT mum), you let them have their little moments of screen time before you cleaned the drawing stuff away.

“Can we wait up for daddy please?” Rebecca asked, after dinner.

“I don’t know, baby. You get grumpy when you don’t have enough sleep,” you said, as the twins “helped” you wash up.

There was more mess than less mess.

“Pleaaaaaseeeee!!! We’ll go to bed early!” Rebecca pleaded, her blue eyes shining.

She was very much like her dad in that way, she inherited his eyes, the pair that made it near impossible to disagree with. Rebecca had your facial features, Bucky’s eyes and Y/H/C.

Sam, Sam was the spitting image of Bucky. Had it not been for the fact that Sam had Y/E/C, he’d be Bucky’s mini me. Sam currently had long hair as well.

You looked down at the pair of blue eyes and Y/E/C eyes looking up at you.

“Alright fine. You can stay up until daddy’s home,” you caved and they grinned.

After dinner (and you cleaning up the mess they had caused after they “helped” you clean), you three sat down on the sofa and you began to read them books.

Both twins were either side of you, cuddled into you, you had your arms around them, they had their heads on your chest. Rebecca had her favourite blanket brought up to her face as she gently sucked her thumb as she listened, Sam had his favourite stuffed animal with him, his face scrunched up in focus as he listened.

Just a both twins were getting sleepy, the front door opened.

“Daddy!” They both yelled happily as they both jumped off the sofa and ran straight to Bucky.

“Hey Muffins!” Bucky said happily as he caught both of them.

You smiled at the interaction. It had taken Bucky a long time to let himself hold his babies. When they were first born, he didn’t want to hold them because of his arm.

For a long time while they were growing up, he kept his arm covered in fear they might be scared - they both adore his arm, they think it’s cool.

You smile as you watch your family.

“Alright babies. You promised. You waited for daddy, now you gotta go to bed,” you said as you went over to your family. “Hey Sargent.” You added, kissing him

“Yuck!” Sam said making you and Bucky laugh.

“Oi, you,” you said, bobbing Sam’s nose making him giggle as he held his hands out to you.

“Come on Muffins. I’ll take you both to bed. Let mama have some me time,” Bucky said gently, kissing you again.

You kissed him again, then kissed Sam and Rebecca. You watched with a smile as Bucky walked into the twins’ room, the sound of their excited chatter told you Bucky was gonna have a hard time putting them to sleep.

You went over to the table and saw the box of Steve’s things. You sat down and picked up the letter. You hadn’t really read it again since the first time, so you read it.

Your eyes teared up at his last words:

“I’ll always be on your left.

My place is here. I fight with you. One day more.

Always on your left,

Steve x”

You sighed tearfully.

“Thank you, Steve. You gave me this life, and it’s true. I forgive you. I really do hope you’re happy. I’m sorry,” you sighed tearfully.

You gently put the letter back in the box, gently kissed the dog tags before putting them away. You placed the box back up on its shelf. Bucky always knew what was in that box, but he’s never asked.

You wiped your eyes then went to get ready for bed. You climbed into bed to wait for Bucky. Soon, he came into your bedroom, looking shattered.

“I want my super soldier,” you demanded, making grabby hands towards him.

He chuckled. He went over, bent down and kissed you.

“Let me shower first. Get this mission off me,” he said softly, kissing you again.

You mindlessly scrolled through social media as he got ready, he then sighed tiredly and got into bed next to you. You locked your phone and cuddled up right against him, his warmth comforting you.

“How you managed to get those two little minxes to bed every night while I’ve been away on your own is beyond me,” Bucky smiled as you kissed his chest and he held you closer.

“I’m amazing,” you shrugged, gently resting your chin on his chest to look at him.

“That you are doll. That you are,” he said, kissing the tip of your nose as you cuddled back into him.

“How was the mission?” You asked, yawning slightly.

“Pretty good. Nobody died, so that was good,” Bucky said smiling softly at your cute little yawn.

“I’m glad,” you hummed.

He bent his head to kiss you again, then he settled down for the night.

“I love you, Buckaroo,” you said happily.

“I love you, Y/N/N. So much,” Bucky said happily, holding you closer.

You were now grateful Steve left you, because life couldn’t be more perfect, even if it tried.

[district2001]

Kiss Detox

Seventeen AU: 14th member

Jangmi x Haechan (NCT)

Recap: Haechan and Jangmi being smitten for each other. PURE FLUFF

Requested: Yes-ish

janghyuck ALSJAKSJ it's so cute, I need more

Words: 1.5k

AN: Requests are OPEN

I’m sorry for the lack of incorrect posts this week. Girlies dying with exams.

“I think Wonwoo hates me.”

“What makes you say that?” Jangmi asked, closing her bedroom door.

“He death glared me when I followed you to your room.”

She snuggled next to her boyfriend. “You do realise you’re dating his little sister, right?”

Haechan groaned, falling back on the bed till he lightly hit his head on the wall. “He liked me before.”

“That was before you started making out with me.”

He raised his eyebrow. “Does that mean he’ll like me if we stopped making out?”

“Are you suggesting we stop doing that?”.”

“Maybe we should go on a kissing detox?” Haechan suggested innocently.

“Right… Maybe I should go on an English detox as well.” Jangmi laughed, snuggling closer to his chest.

“Mi-Mi. I’m serious.”

She pulled away from his chest. “Am I that much of a bad kisser?”

“No. No. You’re fine. You’re perfect.” He reassured, brushing a stray hair out of her face. “I just really want them to like me again.”

“And you’re willing to give up kisses?” Jangmi asked with a pout, pretending to be hurt. “Just for those idiots to like you.”

“It’s kind of important that I get along with my girlfriends’ brothers.” Haechan smiled. “Who else can I plan surprises with.”

Jangmi playfully wiggled her eyebrows. “Am I getting surprises?”

“Not if they don’t like me, you won’t.”

She leaned in to peck his lips. “They liked you once. They’ll definitely like you again.”

Haechan grabbed her face as she was pulling away and brought her in for another kiss. This time peppering her forehead with lots of small kisses. “God. I hope they do. Then I can spend more time with you.”

She successfully pulled away this time. “How’s the no kissing going?” Jangmi asked playfully.

Haechan cocked his head to the side. “Technically, it was no making out.”

“Well played.” Jangmi laughed as she propped herself off her bed, ignoring her boyfriends whine. She grabbed a folder from her shelf. “You know how I said I was missing a bunch of your photocards.”

Haechan nodded, even though she wasn’t facing him.

“Well, I found someone who was willing to trade me one of Yuta’s for you.”

She proudly turned around to show him her photocard collection, the cover of the folder reading ‘NCT PC’s’. The space which had previously been empty, was now filled with his ‘2017 seasons greeting’ card.

He outstretched his arm, so she could pass him the folder.

“Your collections’ getting bigger.” Haechan praised, flicking through. “I swear you didn’t have the Johnny one before.” He pointed at the Irregular photocard.

Jangmi smiled, crawling back to her original position on the bed. “The seller gave me that for free.”

“How many of mine are you missing now?”

“Still got quite a lot.” Jangmi sighed. “I need your SM rookies one- but literally no one is willing to sell it. And then I need both your sailor boy outfit ones from ‘we young.’ I have the cute one with you in the glasses thankfully.” She flicked over to that page and took the photocard out of its slot.

“Do the glasses suit me?”

Jangmi nodded. “Literally everything suits you.”

“Everything?”

Jangmi looked away. “Maybe not your bright red bowl cut.” She muttered under her breath.

Haechan put his hand on her knee and gave it a squeeze. “Don’t feel bad for saying its ugly.”

“I didn’t say it was ugly.” Jangmi protested.

Haechan scoffed. “It literally ranks as one of the worst NCT hairstyles.”

“Not as bad as my pizie cut though.”

“I liked yourshort hair. It made you look extra cute.” He bopped her nose.

Jangmi hit him playfully, her cheeks hued after the compliment. Even after a month of dating, and years of being best friends, he still made her flustered.

“Are you saying I’m not cute now?” She asked, trying to distract him from her reddening face.

“How could anyone think your cute after seeing you in ‘Getting Closer.’ You literally looked like you were going to murder every man you laid eyes on.”

“But our last comeback was soft.” Jangmi whined. “I was wearing a massive sweater.”

“Doesn’t matter. I think you’re losing your title as ‘Baby of the 3rd Gen.’”

She rolled her eyes. “To who?”

“Me.”

“Most defaintely not.”

“You should’ve thought of that before writing ‘Getting Closer-’” Jangmi flicked her boyfriend’s forehead, in which he replied with a grunt. “Stop being such a baby.”

“Am I a baby?” Haechan baited. “Because I seem to recall that I was born in 2000. What year were you born again?”

“Mentally a baby.” Jangmi clarified, moving her face closer to his.

“If I was a baby would I do this?”

“Do what-”

Jangmi’s question was interrupted by Haechan pulling her down with him, so that she was lying on his chest- half their bodies off the bed. His arms sneaking around her waist, holding her closely so he could bury his nose in her freshly died light brown hair.

“Let go of me.” Jangmi grunted, trying to pull away.

“5 minutes.” Haechan whispered softly. She could feel his eyes close from beneath her. His eyelashes, tickling her shoulder as they shut.

“Fine. But can we at least move up the bed, so we don’t fall off.”

He happily complied, and they scooted up to the top. Jangmi turned around, so that she was lying on top of him.

“Have you been sleeping well?” She asked lovingly, noticing the faint dark circle around his eyes, that his makeup couldn’t hide.

Haechan nodded, still with his eyes closed.

She propped herself up with one of her arms and used the other to move some strands of hair out of his face.

Haechan opened one eyes, and slowly lifted himself off the bed to give her a quick kiss, before falling back into her blue pillow.

He hugged her tightly, kissing the hair at the top of her head.

Jangmi tensed, and looked up at her boyfriend, once again inspecting his eyebags.

“It doesn’t look like you are.”

“I am.” He replied monotonously.

“Really?” She prodded, poking his cheek.

Haechan sighed, still keeping his eyes closed. “Not really. I think I’ve messed up my sleep schedule for good.”

“How about, instead of going out for a walk later tonight, we can just lie down here?” She suggested.

“Didn’t you really want to see the sunset?” He opened his eyes, looking for her reaction.

Jangmi smiled. “There’ll be other sunsets. You only get the chance to rest now.”

He searched her face for any sign of disappointment or hint of annoyance but was left empty-handed. Haechan pulled her back down onto his chest, and once again hugged her tightly.

She gave in, relaxing in his familiar embrace.

They lay in silence for a while, the hum of the heater being the only noise in the room.

“I’m sorry I’m tired.” Haechan mumbled, into the nape of her shoulder, sending vibrations through her whole body.

“Don’t be. You’re literally the definition of being overworked. You deserve a break more than anyone I know.” She complimented, in a whisper.

“Really?” He asked, his voice laced with tiredness and a hint of self-doubt.

“Absolutely.” She agreed firmly, slightly pushing herself off him, to give her boyfriend peck on his lips.

Haechan whined. “One more.”

Jangmi happily obliged to his demand.

Except this time, the kiss wasn’t as innocent. Haechan pushes Jangmi down on the bed, before repositioning himself on top of her. She gasps at the sudden shift.

Before she had a chance to protest, his lips were locked with hers. He tongue running down the entrance of her lips, to which she parted after a second of hesitation.

Haechan pulled away. “Are we going to fast? We can slow down if you want.”

Jangmi looked into his eyes. She shook her head. “Its fine. Just a shock that’s all.”

With their lips were reconnected. The kiss even deeper than the last, with his tongue running on the roof of her mouth. They pulled apart for air, momentarily, before Jangmi pulled Haechan closer.

“Imagine suggesting not making out with me, only to make out with me an hour later.” Jangmi mumbled jokingly against his lips.

Haechan bit her top lip. “They just need to think we’re not making-”

“Jangmi have you se- WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!”

Haechan scrambled off Jangmi in surprise and fell to the floor.

“Hi Seungcheol Hyung.” Jangmi waved weakly, a nervous smile visible on her face.

“Annyeonghaseyo Seungcheol.” Haechan greeted, pushing himself off the floor.

“It’s sunbaenim to you.” Seungcheol said coldly.

“Is there a party in Jangmi’s room?” Hoshi’s voice was heard echoing through the corridor. Dammit. They must have come back early from their leader line meeting

“Actually Soonyoung-ah, I think she’s a bit busy to throw a party.” Her general leader replied, sarcastically.

Hoshi poked his head around the door. “Doing what? Oh Hi Haechan”

“I’m so dead.” Haechan muttered under his breath.

Jangmi could only nervously laugh in agreement.

[illfoandillfie]

Kinktober Day 5: Panties & Lingerie

Kinktober Masterlist | Regular Masterlist

Pairing: Gwilym Lee x Fem!Reader

Words: 2,153

Warnings: nothing much, some degredation, teasing, set during quarantine/lockdown, DIY bondage, gag, implied sex, dom!gwil

A/N: The first Gwil day! 

You listened to make sure Gwil was still in the kitchen before closing your bedroom door and setting your plan in motion. After a few months of being in lockdown things had begun to grow stale. The days bled into each other and there was little variation from one to the next. It wasn’t bad really – you and Gwil were both healthy and able to work from home easily enough – it was just becoming monotonous. But you were determined that the habits you’d slipped into and the routine of your lockdown lives wouldn’t get in the way of your relationship. So you came up with an idea to surprise Gwil, just to spice things up and keep him on his toes a little.  

The first step was to dress in something you knew would turn him on, so you opted for a lingerie set he’d bought you and definitely enjoying seeing you wear- a deep purple chemise that fell around the top of your thigh, hugging you tightly, and barely concealed the matching thong. And then, because you didn’t want to make it too easy for him, you threw an oversized hoodie on top. It was one you’d stolen from Gwil the first winter you were together but he always claimed you looked better in it and never tried to take it back. Even after you moved in together it lived in your side of the wardrobe. It was baggy and cosy and almost drowned you in excess material, hanging closer to your knees than the lingerie did, which made it the perfect cover. Gwil didn’t think anything of it when he saw you. It was lockdown after all, no one to see or impress, nowhere to go, nothing to dress up for. Comfort was the name of the game. He himself had opted for tracksuit pants and a baggy shirt with a sweater over the top since it was getting to be quite chilly.  

After you were dressed, the next part of the plan was to tease him. You saw it as sort of like animals in a zoo enclosure. This was Gwil’s enrichment for the day. He’d have to figure out how little you were wearing under the hoodie and then it’d be up to him what he did with that information. But you were sure it would be fun. Which you supposed meant that teasing him was your enrichment activity, something to keep you entertained and occupied. The thought made you laugh to yourself as you settled on the couch with your laptop to check your emails. Gwil had a zoom meeting first up, taking himself off to the dining room, so your scheme would have to wait until he was done. But that just gave you more time to think through how you’d tease him. 

Roughly an hour and a half later Gwilym popped his head through the doorway. “Putting the kettle on, sweetheart, d’you want a cuppa?”  “Yes please,” you said, making a show of setting aside your laptop and arching your back as if you needed to stretch.  Gwil smiled but didn’t seem to pay any attention to how you were pushing your tits towards him.   “Should I grab out some of that biscotti I made yesterday?” you asked, relaxing into a more normal posture. The hoodie was probably too thick to properly show off your chest, even if you were pushing hardened nipples against the fabric. No wonder Gwil hadn’t seemed to notice.   “That would be lovely. It’s really good.”  You chuckled and stood to follow him to the kitchen, “I wasn’t sure it was going to work but they turned out pretty alright. Think next time I might try and do one of those chocolatey variations. Where’d you put them?”  “Pantry. Can you grab the sugar out while you’re there? The canister’s almost empty.”  “Sure thing.” You located the Tupperware box of biscotti first and then the sugar. They were on the same shelf, one higher than you usually placed things. It wasn’t that you couldn’t reach the shelf – the biscotti would be easy enough to grab down – it was that you had to stretch a little further to get things towards the back of the shelf. And at some point since you’d last filled the sugar container, the bag had been shoved behind other things. You said a silent thank you to past Gwil for putting both items that high up. “Gwil, honey!” you called out as you raised yourself onto your tiptoes and stretched your arms up.  Gwil came in just in time to see you flailing for the sugar, arms over your head, your hoodie pulled up so that more of your legs were exposed, clearly showing him that you weren’t wearing shorts.  “Can’t reach the sugar,” you chuckled, grabbing the biscotti box and sinking back down onto the soles of your feet. You turned around in time to see Gwil blinking.  His momentary stupefaction disappeared and he laughed as he reached up to retrieve the bag you’d been unable to get.  

When the tea was made you carried it and a plate of biscotti out to the lounge so you could watch mid-morning TV. Gwil settled onto the loveseat but you’d already been set up in the armchair so sank back into it. You crossed one leg over the other, uncrossed them, leant forward to pick up your teacup, crossed your legs the other way and took a sip. You suspected Gwil had noticed your odd actions when he leaned forward in your peripheral vision and didn’t sit up again.   “Oh, silly,” you said to yourself as you uncrossed your legs again, leaned forward to grab your snack, sat back and crossed your legs once more. Sensing Gwilym’s eyes on your thighs, you turned to smile at him, pleased to see his eyes dart towards the TV once he’d realised you were looking. And then, after enough time so it wouldn’t be too obvious that you wanted him to look, you uncrossed your legs again, instead drawing them both up under you.   Gwil stood up suddenly and left the room but before you could wonder about it too long you heard the toilet flush and let your attention drift back to the TV as Gwil took his seat again.   You finished your tea, noting that you felt quite warm after it. 

Around midday Gwil went in search of some food. You heard him open the fridge and then close it again. His footsteps moved away after that, down the hall and then back to the kitchen and then back out to where you were still sitting, once again on your laptop.   “Gonna have that leftover lasagne for lunch so I’ve stuck the oven on to heat up.” He said, pulling his sweater off and swinging his legs up to recline on the couch.  The oven hadn’t been on long when you noticed the heat and wondered what temperature Gwil had set it to. It probably didn’t help that your laptop had seen quite a lot of use and was feeling very hot against your legs. You shifted it around, trying to find a way to make yourself more comfortable without interfering with the hoodie.   “You right?” Gwil asked.  “Yeah, fine,”  “Must be getting a bit warm in the hoodie,”  “Not really,” you shrugged, trying not to sound too suspicious of him.  Gwil stood, “Oven’s probably warm enough now right?”  “Yeah probably.” You listened carefully as Gwil walked into the kitchen but once more his footsteps faded off up the hall. Ten seconds later and you’d already noticed the rise in temperature, and it dawned on you that perhaps the oven wasn’t the only think Gwil had been tampering with.  

You followed him quietly to the kitchen, pushing your sleeves up to your elbows as the heat got worse. He seemed surprised to see you there as he crept back into the room but you feigned ignorance, muttering something about needing a drink as you bent over the dishwasher, lowering yourself more than was strictly necessary as you pretended to search for a cup, offering him a peak at your scant underwear.  When you righted yourself Gwil was right behind you, his hands reaching for the hem of the hoodie, “Game's up sweetheart. Take the damn thing off.”  “Wondered when you’d get there,” you laughed, “Might want to turn that stove off for the moment.” You waited until he’d done so before lifting your most modest layer over your head to reveal what little you wore underneath it.  Gwil’s eyes travelled over you as he breathed in deeply through his nose, “All dressed up. What’s the occasion?”  “Just wanted to.”  “You mean you wanted to tease me.” His voice was low and soft but that just made it all the more ominous, a hint of what was in store for you. You didn’t even have a chance to answer before his fingers wrapped around your wrist and he began to lead you to the bedroom.   “In my defence, teasing you is fun.” You couldn’t help but want to taunt him further.  “I think you just like it because you know I won’t be able to resist taking it out on your cunt.”  “That’s definitely part of it.” You laughed but you were abruptly cut off as he pushed you towards the bed.  

Gwilym growled as he backed you up to the mattress and you quickly scrambled into place. His hands felt hot against you as his pushed the soft material of your lingerie up to your chest and then straddled your exposed stomach. With a sudden yank he began to pull the chemise over your head but, to your dismay, it seemed to catch partway, your arms and head still stuck in the clinging material.   “Umm, Gwil?” you asked, trying not to panic with your head still stuck inside the lingerie.  “You’re alright, sweetheart. I’m going to pull it up further in a second but I think some sort of poetic justice is in order. So reach back and grab the headboard and then I’ll readjust.”  Heart racing, you tried to blindly do what he said, grateful when he leaned over and helped position your hands so that each was wrapped around one of the slats in the headboard. You felt the material hug your arms tightly as he readjusted it so that your nose and mouth were freed. Your eyes remained blindfolded by the bottom of the dress but being able to breathe freely meant it wasn’t so panic induicing.    “There, that ought to hold you.” He shuffled back down your body until he was straddling your thighs, “I think it’s fitting to keep you stuck here enduring my cock, bound by the very thing you used to taunt me.”  The idea made you shiver but your enjoyment was helped by Gwil’s hand falling to your thong clad pussy. He dragged his fingers along your lips before finding you clit and beginning to circle it slowly.   “It’s quite rude to tease really.” he said as he pressed his fingers against you, making you gasp, “Does it make you wet sweetheart? Does it turn you on to be a dirty little slut, begging to be fucked. Because that’s what you are right now. Dressing all slutty and bending over like you were hoping I’d just fill you with cock there and then.”  You whined as his fingers became more insistent and his words got filthier, everything contributing to your growing wetness and your nearing orgasm.   “If you’re not careful I’ll have to fuck you every day until this lockdown ends. You won’t get the chance to tease me with your thongs and your stretching and whatever other slutty ideas are in your slutty head. I’ll just fuck you first and save you the trouble. Oh you like that idea huh?” he laughed in response to your moan, “Spending every day cock drunk and begging for more? Prove it. Cum for me and I might actually do it.”  His fingers were impossible to argue with and you couldn’t hold back any longer, moaning with your release.  “Good girl,” he cooed softly, “Making such a mess of your panties though. What about we take them off now and I can see just how slutty your cunt is.”  You nodded eagerly, giving him a few words of encouragement as he dragged the wet underwear down your legs.   Gwilym held the panties up to the light, twisting it to better see the slick patch you’d created, “Very good.” he said as he balled the underwear up and, grabbing your jaw, stuffed it between your lips.  You whined around the material, able to taste your own arousal which only turned you on more.  “Now keep being good for me,”  You watched as Gwil pushed his pants down and pulled his cock out, positioning it between your legs. 

Taglist: @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @rogersslave @scorpiogemini

[migilini]

Could you please write one of those Tiktok "I tried to kiss my bestfriend / crush" challenge for either Charlie or Owen. Thanks!

Crushtok - Owen Patrick Joyner

A/N: Yes ofc I can! I never wrote for Owen so let me know what you think! I hope you like it :)

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: tiktok and noise (so none really)

Requests are open!

MASTERLIST

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The sun poked through curtains and you swore that you had heard birds the day before but it was loud, uncomfortably so. All you heard was the clacking of metal and the rattling of the machinery that the construction in front of Owens Appartement made. All the unpleasant noises woke you up in the early morning. Grumbling, you tried to block out the noise with a pillow pressed against your face.

"That's not gonna work sleepy beauty" a lower voice croaked, catching you completely off guard so you let out a quiet shriek. "Oweenn why do you have to scare me badly in the morning?" You whined and took the pillow away from your face.

He sat on the other side of the couch, just underneath your feet and looked absolutely tired. His blonde hair was standing up in every possible direction, his normally piercing blue eyes trying their best to stay open. By the way, he was looking at you with a little smirk on his lips, you figured that you didn't look any better.

"Because it's 6 am on a Saturday morning and I didn't want to suffer alone. So lucky you for visiting me this week!" Owen exclaimed and hit your leg in a joking manner.

"I've got thrown out by my landlord. I'm not here on my own terms..." this earned you a shocked gasp from the boy sitting in front of you. "And there I was, thinking this friendship meant something to you." You just rolled your eyes with a smirk.

"Do you want to come back to my bedroom? With some music playing it's much quieter than out here." Nodding tiredly, he held out a hand to help you stand up; you only noticed when you nuzzled into his bed that he didn't let go of your hand.

You woke up a couple of hours later, quiet pop music filled the darkroom and it was hot, your bare legs sticking to the duvet covers. You turned around and faced a back with broad shoulders that were just moments ago pressed against your back. Groaning, you stuck your legs out of the bed, the cold air cooling you down immediately. Owen stirred next to you and sat up slowly.

"Morning part 2." you chuckled and automatically pushed some of his hair out of his face.

"Mornin" he mumbled back.

"You were right it's much quieter in your room."

You stood up, stretching your limbs, before heading back into the living room where all your stuff was stored, quite impractically but it was stored.

You heard a shower running, that gave you the perfect time to change from your big shirt and little pants sleep attire to a more comfortable day outfit. After rummaging through your boxes, that you packed in a freezy, you choose some brown cotton pants with a white body and to top it off your favourite purple cardigan that Owen gifted you one Christmas. With some extra time, you put on your glasses and started to search for a new place to stay.

"So what do you wanna do today? I have nothing going on so..." you stopped listening as Owen walked into the living room shirtless. He wore some blue sweatpants that hung quite low on his hips, his chest still sparkling from the water.

You would have probably started to drool if he wouldn't have worn his hair in a towel bun.

You let out a laugh that made him stop in his tracks.

"What?" he stared at you intensely.

"Oh, nothing princess... nothing. We uh... could look at some apartments for me and just go for a drive?"

"Am I that bad of a roommate?" he said and plopped down next to you on the couch his arm resting on the top comfortably.

"No but I would really appreciate a place to store my stuff properly." you continued to scroll through places to stay.

"This one looks good." he pointed out and put his finger on the screen, you hadn't realised that he rested his arm just above your shoulders so it took you off guard when you suddenly felt his arm on your neck.

"Mhmm, but you cant look at it today... This one though has a viewing in the late afternoon."

"Then that's our plan for today."

++

"Y/N! Y/N!" Owen screamed loudly from the kitchen "Come here real quick."

With your phone still in one hand, you waddled over to your best friend. "What's the emergency?" you looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Do this TikTok with me." he pleaded and looked at you with a slight pout, shoving his phone in your face. Your eyes scanned the screen and then you scoffed, "First of all since when are you on lesbian TikTok? And secondly, that's a bit... explicit... don't you think?"

"W- Our lips don't have to touch! I don't have anybody else to do it with! Y/N Come On!" he yelled after your figure who left the kitchen with a shaking head and hot cheeks.

Your thought didn't stop racing for the rest of the day. Did Owen want to kiss you? Or was he just so comfortable with your friendship that he really didn't care? You hated that you were a cliche, falling in love with your childhood best friend. Growing up you were always the one rolling your eyes at your parents who thought that you and Owen would make just such a cute couple but here you were, sitting on his couch, your heart beating in your chest and extremely conscious of his presence.

Little did you know that Owen felt the exact same. Over the years and especially puberty, he started to develop feelings for you. At first, he tried to deny them, telling himself that it's just that he's used to you being around but then he left to pursue his acting career and he missed you more than everything in the world. Not a single day went by when he didn't think of you or tried to call you. Ever since then, he tried to be close to you in one way or the other, he didn't care if it was just his leg touching yours or your body heat warming him up.

Due to the fact that you were both anxious people, neither of you ever made a move. He missed your longing stares and you missed the way he was checking you out every time he looked at you.

His friends finally talked some confidence into him and so he took little steps into what should eventually lead to him confessing his love for you. He started to flirt more with you, give you loads of compliments and asked you if you wanted to do some TikTok or lives with him.

Tapping on your shoulder made you look up from your phone, the TikTok you've been watching looping on your screen. Owen stood next to you, his phone pointed to you, a mischievous smirk prominent on his face and whipped cream can in his other hand.

"No." you tried to be serious but a chuckle escaped your lips. Owen turned the camera to him and sprayed some cream into his mouth then stared at you with squinted eyes, the whipped cream flowing out of his mouth.

You stared at him for a couple of seconds, your brain in overdrive, hands sweaty and heart beating rapidly. An idea washed over you and you tilted your head before leaning in close. Owen's eyes went wide and he nearly choked on the cream. But you weren't gonna kiss him seconds before your lips would have met, you halted. Then you slowly took the can of whipped cream out of his hand and sprayed it all over his head.

"You didn't!" he gasped with a full mouth while you laid on the floor, holding your stomach in laughter. Something wet hit your face that stopped you from laughing further. Owen had a massive grin on his face, one hand dripping slightly and his hair, less creamy.

"Be cautious Joyner" you warned standing up on your tiptoes to be as close to him as possible, your pointer finger pressing into his chest "I know where your bed sleeps."

You tried to back out of the situation, knowing damn well that it can easily get out of hand with you two and a whipped cream match would make a lot of mess. But Owen being the child he is, didn't back out, instead, he ripped the can out of your hand and sprayed it down your back.

The war ended peacefully. The cans of whipped cream, yes you found more cans, laying somewhere in the living room both of you covered from head to toe, breathing heavily. Owen held his hands up in surrender and looked up to your position on the coffee table.

"Ha! I win! Told you I didn't want to do the TikTok." you smiled triumphantly. "I say loser cleans this up." before Owen could protest you sprinted to the shower. Lucky for you he actually started to clean up when you walked out of the bathroom, dressed in comfortable sweats and one of Owens hoodie, your damp hair falling over your shoulders.

"Hey Y/N?" Owen asked somehow nervously. "Yes darling?" you answered with a bad British accent.

"Can you come here for a second?"

"Owen I'm not doing that TikTok with you, you just saw how that ended," you argued but made your way over to him. He stood in the middle of the room, his phone propped up on a shelf.

"You have something on your face." you chuckled and whipped away some dried leftovers from your previous war.

"Can you react to this song? I don't remember where I know it from" he asked, his voice shaking slightly. You furrowed your eyebrows at his odd behaviour just moments ago he was normal and now he acted very strangely.

"Sure." he pulled you in front of him, his hands resting on your shoulders.

'Baby, you're like lightning in a bottle

I can't let you go now that I got it'

“Sounds like BORNS…” you whispered more to yourself than to him and continued to listen to the song “Are you sure you just haven't…” you turned around to face him.

Owen took this as his opportunity to cup your face with both of his hands, softly pressing his lips to yours.

Your breath hitched and it took you a second to realise what was happening. The confidence Owen had just moments ago vanished when you didn't kiss him back immediately. Why should you? You never gave a hint that you liked him like that as well.

Just as he was about to pull away and apologize profusely, you overcame your state of shock. Your arms grabbed his hips to pull him closer, deepening the kiss. You felt him smile against your lips. Your stomach erupted with butterflies, your whole body tingled and your cheeks felt hot.

He was the first one to pull away, resting his forehead on yours. Both breathing heavily, the filming camera was completely forgotten, you looked in each other's eyes.

“I wanted to do that for so long,” you admitted and unconsciously bit your lip. Owen gulped heavily, “Me too but, what the hell! I mean how crazy is that?!”

[rumblelibrary]

The Diary of Doctor Laszlo Kreizler

Chapter 1  -  Chapter 2

Synopsis: Alienist’s notes are private, sometimes gruesome, secrets of others and of himself.Those pages belongs to secrecy and decadence, have a glimpse to this world made of drafts, notes, accidents and reflections. Or maybe it is you the only person that should ever reach for it.

While you read this imagine Laszlo mostly at the end of his day, scraping the ideas and the thoughts, adjusting previous notes with additions, closing the day behind himself with a couple of sentences while sitting in his evening robe, a good glass of whiskey and his glasses bridged almost at the tip of his nose. Or maybe imagine yourself, you sneaky thing, reach for it from a far shelf.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: listen, this is the set of ideas and confessions of a man living in the 1890’s. Most of them will be outdated, rough, even deprecating in some analysis of the roles of men, women and social status, religion, etc.So be prepared, my point is to make Laszlo reflect upon those topics, but to be as faithful as I can to his time. Mention of death, mutilation, self harm and sex. Psychologically troubled young children ahead! Author’s note: The story is placed between season 1 and season 2. Thank you for everyone that encouraged me to keep going. I have to wait for my local drop of serotonin to get fully Laszloed to go through this.

Lyra’s Contellation, Illustration taken from Uranographia by Johann Bode

Routine. Routine is comfort. Habit stabilises the character.

If you follow a routine, you won’t ever be victim of imprudence, of evil jokes of fate. The stability earned through calculated and repeated actions brings a sense of fulfilment that forbids other thoughts to come bashing in, breaking rules, breaking hopes that a solid scheduled routine forbids to have. I take my time to begin this week, I planned the things to do, the next steps for the case, the people to meet, the resources I am allowed to contemplate. I feel good, I feel back to myself and the events of the weekend seem far from me and my own perception. I probably got ahead of myself, carried by some instinctual though and random rush of emotion, to be always in contact with the same people and mostly kids probably doesn’t help my stance in the presence of other adults. I feel silly now reading back the last page, I felt tempted to tear it off, but to keep it there should be a small memento of not losing my temper so easily. I read it over and over and I know I am not as charmed as I thought I was. I am just lonely. I have always been and it is normal to face ups and downs even for a man of my age who is more accustomed to it.  To desire a partner is a natural instinct, to find somebody attractive is meant by nature, it is the body calling for the natural fulfilment of the reason we are put on this very Earth.  But even in a state of nature my own condition would be forbidding me to be part of the natural process of growing my own kind. I am the type of male that would be excluded because of his impossibility to give the protection to the pack, therefore it is just more reasonable to me to adapt to my condition. No matter what my Potentia generandi might be (the ability to procreate).

With all the smugness that characterises him, Niki showed off that he passed my challenge. But to be really of an help to his antics I didn’t show any kind of surprise. I treated him like he did the bare minimum, like he didn’t prove me any kind of superiority. He has a natural attitude toward challenging the figure of power, he is trying to overpower me, but I won’t satisfy his need. I have noticed he has a very technical brain, he finds ways to solve problems in ingenious way and not by throwing himself into the task. I proceeded giving him to work on a clock, an old broken one we had in the institute, one of the kids hit it with a ball years ago and nobody ever worked on repairing it. I gave him the clock, a couple of screwdrivers and a book. He called me a number of German names I won’t transcribe, but it gave me a certain amount of satisfaction. If my intuitions are right, I am sure the clock will be repaired by next week.

Analysis of the victim’s body through John’s eyes. The drawings and sketches are as detailed as I requested, all of this thanks to you joining him. I deal with art critic section, I am used to notice these things. You assure me, you play yourself low and I wonder why, nevertheless you did notice things neither John or I did, which pleased me. It fooled me, distracted me from my purpose to not give in to your witchery, as I leaned closer watching your pale hand move across the pages tracing this or that line, showing how this must be done with the killer on this side and not that side, with words so deliciously elaborate, your way of composing your speech is compelling, you could sell the drawing of a kid like it was a Botticelli. I noticed the shape of your hands, the way you move them, I wonder if you play an instrument, or played, some habits just stick with you through life. I focused on taking notes, your ideas and instructions giving me a new point of view, a new stimulus. What if that is the only way the killer can communicate? Or what if this is the communication that works for him? Could our killer be mute or deaf? Or that’s how society made him feel? This man, or woman, needs a listener and I am afraid that now, since he got our attention and the public’s, he won’t stop. Another killing could be just as close.

Scheduled: meeting with the parents of Alex Garel for new admission, Monday next week at 11 am. Love at first is a fetish and like all fetishes it is based onto an object that hides a deeper meaning, like gloves mean hands, to love at first sight means to see somebody that you think, and think only, to have the chance to share not only a sensual kind of bond, but an intellectual. Love at first sight is based onto not knowing someone well enough, but having the time to idealise most of that someone. I can see why I feel this attraction, using a particular phrase that Sara often mutters when investigating: you tick all the boxes. I know you do, your beauty is everything but conventional, you’re the kind of face that painters would paint and musicians would write hymns about, but any animal on the street would never be allowed to see. You have the grace of the body and the fire in the eyes, and then you speak. When you speak, I realise, you could bring the world to its knees. Also, you never speak out of context, and if you do it is to ease somebody’s position. You do it often with John or with Stevie, you say something really silly in order to put them back to a place of comfort. Some women would call it self deprecating, but I see that you only pick wisely your fights and your wins. You don’t need to earn your peace and quiet by neglecting, but by lifting up the others. I wonder if you do it with me too, if your silences are just you allowing me to be in a better place while instead your judgment is tearing me apart. I shouldn’t care, but I keep wondering, sometimes I take my time to answer you, I analyse every shade, every peculiarity of your question, I am looking for sarcasm, for a condescending voice, for something to hang on and bare you open. To prove myself you’re not perfect. But deep down I know that you do, you judge me and you do well.

Mother never said so. That’s what one of the girls in my care said today. Ursula. She is tough. Skin as thick as an alligator and the tendency to pull her own hair at night or when under a massive amount of stress, enuresis alongside erratic episodes of mutism. I tried the soft approach, it didn’t work. She is too accustomed to be indulged. Therefore today I pushed her a bit overboard, I teased her over opinions on the female body, the female role, she is only 12, but she is soon to bleed, she knows, I can tell from the way she clenches to her skirts, from the way she looks at me as a threatening figure. I am the incarnation of danger to her. Under her steady silence, I pushed a bit more, asking how her mother taught her to be nice and submissive. Does her mother tells her she is going to be a good wife? The phrase, which I reported at the top of the page, surprised me.  What is her mother teaching to her then? What closed her so much, locked her soul away, making a small bird like this choose the silence and the retirement of self inflicted pain over, what? Mankind? Or just Men? Is that even a curse? Should I cure her from a truth that her own mother whispered to her ear one night before bed and made a child decide that the world wasn’t a place to share her time with? Am I the man supposed to teach her that men are worth of trust? In the eyes of modern society, who measures its own value over the modesty of the women, she would be a champion, but at what price? I can’t in any way let her parents bring her back home after our recent meetings. Nevertheless, I have to make up my own mind on how to give her troubled soul ease without making her believe in fables. I, as a man, regard myself not worth of any of the trust they expect me to teach her.

In all of my years practicing with people’s feelings and traumas, I challenged myself to find those same traumas within my own mind. It is a tricky game, terrible, anguishing at times. But it straightens me, the pain of others, the pain of kids mostly, so unadulterated and pure, breaks the curtain between me and the lies that I often surround myself with. Pain is made of method, you can open it up, you can scrutinise it, part it piece by piece dividing it in sectors and, partitions, centre part, side part, heart of the problem. Pain is reliable. Happiness is not. It is random, cruelly sudden, unexpected, it washes over you in such deflecting way only to leave you alone a moment after ashamed and alone. I saw you again today. You were in a table full of what I could only guess as your former university colleagues, I saw pain in you, not heavy but constant. Annoyance, a bit of sadness. Your head titling on side and your eyes drifting on the left, you’re imagining something away from them.  A place? An object? Or maybe someone? Your hands play circles at the bottom of the flute of your drink like kids do, your smile only one sided. I don’t see you speak at all, only listen.  What could keep your voice down? I almost gulped down my own breath as you looked up and I realised how I must have looked. I was having lunch on my own, in a very private table and even entertaining myself with a newspaper on the side. I wish you didn’t, but you came over, your eyes shining.  Did I save you? Or maybe I was just a good excuse to leave that painful meeting behind. Don’t be so nice to me, it is not healthy. Don’t look at me like you expect anything more from me than me listening. I won’t smile back at you, I won’t give you care, attentions or thought. I won’t lean for your perfume, I won’t obsess over that dress you wore, that pin that adorned your neckline keeping your undershirt in place, a silver robin, I remember. I won’t remember the number of the buttons on the side of your glove, three. I won’t observe the little moles just under your ear. A small constellation, I later realised, hidden between your ear and the beginning of your neck. I don’t need to check in my books. It is a constellation. It is Lyra. Why? Why you must be like this? Are you the Lyra? Are you the instrument of Orpheus come to me to drag me out of Hell? The Tartarus holds my soul and you should know already, I am not worth the quarter part of Eurydice to be saved and she never came back anyway. I won’t be now recollecting the way your teeth sunk in the inner side of your cheek when you apologised for the annoyance.  You apologised twice, I ignored you both times with a raised hand to request peace and silence. I am not letting you in.

Reserved: Tickets for Wednesday’s evening Traviata by Giuseppe Verdi. The guest female lead promises a beautiful show.

Leonardo, as I am learning through Paul Valery essay, is who I would define as a figure of projective identification of the Subject or, to better explain it, of the knowledge of the Subject that formed and grew through the use of sketches in the experience of the Artist. I have always thought that the finest form of art was the representation of knowledge duly undressed by any personal identification. Leonardo, instead, proceeded to represent the figure through the essence of the artist, a representation technically unlimited on objects and symbols and that keep expressing the transformation and development of Leonardo’s own being.Some artists are testimony of the destruction of the world, of the loss of eternal beauty over decadence. And then you have Leonardo, who creates an art that is the gravity of the world’s system, of the nature, of thoughts and abstractions. I wonder if our killer does the same, if the way they presents the victim through their own personal view, if what we can read there it is their stories, their pains, their needs. Their happiness and troubles. What are they trying to tell me?  I need to know, I need to know to save a life, of course, but I also need to know to be able to sleep at night. Hair, hair are the epitome of femininity in any era. I keep studying Ursula and her habit to pull the. I took notes on it: she picks them by the bottom, slowly separates them until she gains an amount her mind defines satisfactory and then she rolls her finger and pulls, she does it until her finger is empty and there are no hair left. I find her process incredibly interesting. In men’s case the display of physical attributes is not as vital, a beard can be appreciated but does not modify the power of seduction of a grown man. On the contrary, for women hair are a vital part of their attractiveness toward the opposite sex, society sees the hair of a woman as part of their vital characteristics, also in ancient times for a woman to cut her hair or have her hair cut was a sign of deep separation from the society. Only heroines or whores wore that mark and the association of the two is so rooted into the way society always parted the role of a woman in two that it is nauseating to think of. I am still fearing to let Ursula go away, the repulsion that she is showing toward her own body makes it difficult even for me to crack her shell open as a man, but my deepest worry is when that hate will take a scarier and deeper tool on her. How a girl with such  a fear of what her body can do, like sex or pregnancy, can endure in the future to have an husband? Or even to be courted by anyone?

John is helpless and I admire him for that. He doesn’t hide it, he just is. He is vulnerable and exposed, he is an open well bursting with doubts and feelings and troubled waters. He is genuine in a way I could never be. Maybe that’s why I despise even more him talking about you, how he sees you every morning, how you greet everybody, how you behave even with interns, how you like your coffee.  Your talents, your wits, how you said this and acted like that and reasoned through him. How you forbid him to drink even when he felt tempted. How you stayed late over to help him collect all the informations I requested him to get. To him. Not to you. The evil demon of envy scratching in the back of my head screaming like a siren out in the sea, he demands to be heard, he demands to be allowed a part in this game. I won’t allow him that. I won’t allow myself any of that. This is a pure game of chess, if I give in a pawn now, I will lose my knight, and I know it. I advice him to not be so closed minded when he praises you, only to get surprised by the charms of a natural logical mind. I find a way to hurt him, he is an easy target, I look at him as his eyebrows twitch and he summons his patience on me. He lost the plot about you already, his bruised pride taking over. You won’t come into my life.

“Un dì, felice, eterea, mi balenaste innante, e da quel dì tremante vissi d'ignoto amor.”  (“On a day, happy and ethereal, you appeared in front of me and from that day, trembling, I lived on an unknown love”)

The words of Alfredo in the first act of the Traviata keep running through me, a chant that won’t let me go, almost painful. The Opera House, that was my hiding place, a place where in plain sight I could let out myself, unleash. The catharsis of the characters involved running through me, I didn’t need anything but their voices and those musical instruments to let out my fears, doubts and anger. When Alfredo came to the scene tonight, the lights were strong and slightly pinkish, the performer bursting out of the seams with passion. My eyes diverted only to see you there. Alone. Those blinding lights gave you the the radiance of a vision singing the notes of greek myths and heroes, that dark blue evening clothing rang through my eyes like it was a bright yellow, the little shiny details that adorned you so clear against the heavy lighting to look like transparent pieces of water collected to adorn your beauty. I wasn’t me, but Alfredo, and I was helpless against you sitting so far and yet too close from me. I was naked in front of thousands. I am aware of the effect you have on me and our last conversation was barely regarded as one. This is infatuation, this is the pure work of a lonely mind and not something worth of any of all the words that I am dissipating here. Yet. I saw you cry at the climax of the opera, Violetta, the protagonist, heartbroken falling on stage consumed by pain and regret for her lost love and ultimate sacrifice. Your eyes shone as you tried to hide the tears and collect yourself. Through my binoculars, I saw your throat tremble and gulp down something more than just a sigh of pain. Your jaw clenched, your gloved hand moves to hide your shaking lips. I reckon, I have never seen such sad lips look more inviting. You look at the wall on your side breathing through your nose and not even that can save you by the strength of the voice of the soprano. You’re defeated and so you brought a fine silk handkerchief to your eyes, your shoulders bent inward in self defence.  The Opera won. It won you like it always wins me. I wonder if you felt like this because of a past lover, somebody that broke your heart and made you feel wrong in any way.  And because of that little wonder it is even more clear to me why I am a man worth of no trust. Because for a moment, I know, I wished to be the one that broke your heart. That gave you just the pain you’re inflicting on me so mercilessly by offering intoxicating kindness and beauty.  To own your thoughts, tears and shame. To be the one man you have to look away from. I want to own all of that and, maybe, I will be freed of you the day you’ll be just another human being that hates Dr Laszlo Kreizler.

Tagged @cazzyimagines​ @lieutenantn​ @handmaiden-of-mischief​ @thesunflowersutra​ @zemomybeloved​​ @fictionlandslanddreams​ @charistory​ @greeneyedblondie44​ @apparrio​ @hb8301​ @whatawildone​

Let me know if you want to get tagged too <3

[manonblaqkbeak]

How We Met

here it is, my last fic for rowaelin month! thank you so much to everyone that’s read, liked and commented on my fics, it’s been so much fun reading and writing these last four weeks! i’m glad to know that i’m not the only one that is in dire need of more rowaelin content (srsly, i would pay sjm a truck load of money for a strictly rowaelin book bc i miss them sm)

here’s part 4 for the little series i had going on. i was so tempted to make this an angst piece but held back lol.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

cw: none

1.8k words

enjoy and thank you again!!! :) 💕💕💕💕

Gathering the ingredients for the cake that she and Ophelia were going to make for Rowan, Aelin plopped them down on the kitchen counter and tied her and her six year old daughters hair back. Even in the kitchen light, Ophelia's hair was a vivid shade of silver and when she turned to look at her mother, the golden ring in her eyes were just as bright.

“Up, mama!” Ophelia asked, pointing to the step ladder that Olive made for her little sister in her woodshop class at school. Getting it off from atop the fridge, Aelin and Ophelia started their baking session for today. It wasn't often that Aelin baked cakes from scratch but it wasn't every day that her firstborn turned sixteen—not that Aelin could really comprehend that her Olive was sixteen—but Aelin wanted to do this for her, wanted to make something special.

She hoped that it wasn't going to taste as bad as the last cake she baked. Rowan had been sick afterwards and didn't go to work the next day.

That was five years ago, so surely with gaining wisdom as people said when others got older, her baking skills grew too.

“Where did everyone go?” Ophelia asked, her little tongue poking out as she helped Aelin sift the flour.

“To get dinner for tonight. We're having Ollie's favourite.” Which was cuisine from the Southern Continent, there was a restaurant that specialised in the spicy food, and Aelin couldn't wait—she and Rowan often tried to recreate their favourite recipes, but it was never right, so Olive wanted to have the genuine stuff for her birthday and not her parents shoddy attempts.

Not that Aelin could blame her.

They continued making the chocolate cake, Ophelia babbling on about her day at school, when her little one asked, “How did you and papa meet?”

Aelin blinked at the sudden question, but answered it nevertheless. “At the grocery store.”

Ophelia furrowed her brows, and with the way her nose scrunched up, she looked so much like Rowan that it made her heart sing. When Aelin first realised that she was pregnant, she was nervous, they had only been married for seven months and while they spoke about having a child of their own, she didn't think it would happen so quickly—but Rowan's enthusiasm melted away her fears. She would never forget his tears of joy when she showed him the pregnancy test, his beaming smile when they heard her heartbeat for the first time. Aelin would walk through hell, as long as Rowan was by her side, or waiting for her at the end.

It wasn't always perfect, however, they had their ups and downs like every long-term couple, they had moments where it felt like they were walking on tightrope, either because of their own personal issues or marriage issues, or when Egan was fourteen and completely lashed out at Aelin, accusing her of replacing his mother—but she worked with her son, telling him that she had never intended to do that, that Lyria would always be the woman that brought him into the world, and that Aelin was raising him. Her heart broke in two at his pain, but she understood, he grew up with photos and stories of Lyria.

Or when they had the awkward conversation when Olive was eleven and asked why she didn't look like Rowan, and Aelin had explained her story, about Sam being her biological father, but he had given them space for Rowan to raise her instead. That had lead to brooding silences and confusion, but otherwise, Olive still saw Rowan as her dad, but she did ask from time to time about Sam, what he was like and what he was doing (the last update Aelin received from him via email that his wife was pregnant with their second child. Aelin was so happy for him that he was able to have a family, a feat that was made easier since Arobynn had been dead for years by this point) and that she would like to meet him properly one day; Aelin had kept that to herself, not wanting to tell Sam in case Olive changed her mind—Aelin hoped that she wouldn't.

Overall, their life together was what she needed, she went to bed each night loved and fulfilled. It was better than what she might have had with Chaol all those years ago, she was fairly certain that if she had married him, it wouldn't have been a long marriage.

“How did you meet at the food store?” Ophelia asked, her brow still furrowed as she and Aelin stirred the cake batter. It surprisingly smelled good.

“I needed something from a high shelf,” Aelin said, “and I couldn't reach it. Your papa was only a few feet away from me, so I asked him to get it for me.” She might have also subtly ogled him as his shirt exposed his tanned skin, and Aelin had damned near swooned at the sight of his six pack.

“Did you get married at the food store?”

Aelin laughed at the question. “No, we got married at the beach. And then you arrived not long afterwards.” Sometimes they wanted another, but things financially were going so well that they didn't want to jeopardise that by adding another mouth to feed.

“Can you have another wedding?” Ophelia asked, looking at her mum with wide eyes. “So I can go? Please?”

“I'll talk to your daddy about it, but I like the sound of that.” Kissing her daughters forehead, they continued. Just as they were putting the cake in the oven and the icing mix in the fridge, the front door opened and three booming voices infiltrated the house and the mouth watering goodness of food.

Aelin's eyes widened at the amount of food that Rowan piled on the table. It looked like they were feeding a small army and not a family of five.

Ophelia helped her older brother set the table, Egan ruffing her hair as he recounted their little adventure to the restaurant.

As they sat down, Aelin mentioned Ophelia's request. Rowan pretended to mull it over as their daughter pleaded, giving her best puppy dog eyes. It didn't take for Rowan to relent—he really had trouble saying no to her—saying that a second wedding was a great idea.

Ophelia squealed in delight and squealed even more when food was placed in front of her (she was very much like Aelin in that regard).

“How did the conversation of another wedding start?” Rowan asked as they all started eating.

“Phia here wanted to know how we meet.”

Olive snorted. “Yes, the ever romantic story of meeting in the toilet paper aisle.”

“It was not the toilet paper isle!” Aelin protested. “It was the cereal aisle.”

“At least you kids have inherited my manners,” Rowan said, “your mother didn't even ask nicely. She just came over to me and said, 'You're tall, could you get that box for me?'” It had taken him a moment to realise he had been spoken to, too focused on deciding what box of porridge to get when Aelin showed up, wearing a faded band shirt and shorts, pointing to the box of cereal that had far too much sugar to be healthy. He had said 'yes' because it was the nice thing to do, and had stayed behind, talking to her for so long in the aisle that his vanilla ice cream had started to melt.

It was the best decision in his life back then, he never thought he would have gained a friend in the grocery store—and that the friend would become his wife.

“I have manners. I said, 'Excuse you' first before I told you what I needed.”

“That's not really using manners there, ma,” Egan said, smiling as poked her tongue out. He looked so much like Lyria that it was almost scary—he still loved flowers and plants too, and was currently studying to become a florist and then one day horticulture. The backyard was full of flowers and plants thanks to him, making into a little wonderland instead of the barren plain it used to be.

“I did say 'thank you' afterwards.”

“You said 'thanks',” Rowan interjected, laughing as Aelin threw a chunk of her flatbread at his head. Ophelia's cute laughter rent through the air.

“It's the same thing!”

“If you say so, love,” Rowan muttered, his lips twitching. Aelin rolled her eyes in the dramatic way Rowan was used to, but he saw the mirth behind the movement.

“Like I said Phie, it's very romantic,” Olive said drily, sounding very much like Rowan. She had even inherited his scowl, which she was wearing now as she sniffed at the air. “Is something burning?”

Aelin had never run so fast as she did right then, the kitchen filling with smoke as she took in the blackened cake. Swearing viciously under her breath, Aelin chucked the cake into the bin, apologising to Olive as she did so.

“It's okay, mum, dad got me an ice-cream cake earlier today anyway.”

Aelin narrowed her eyes at her husband, who simply gave her an innocent smile in answer.

Rejoining her family, they talked well into the night, helping Aelin to forget her failed baking attempt. Ophelia asked more questions about their time in the grocery store and how that moment lead to friendship, to pining for the other without realising it, to a life together.

And to think, Aelin almost didn't go to the grocery store that day.

Rowan thanked the gods that he had remembered at the last moment that he had no porridge left, otherwise, he might not have met Aelin at all. Might not have had this life, this family. Part of him would always be sad that things had gone so wrong with Lyria, and he would always miss and love her. But he learned in therapy that it was good to have a life, and Rowan was glad that he heeded that advice.

He thanked the gods all the time.

And thank the rutting gods he did right now for the umpteenth time that Aelin deemed him tall enough to get her food for her, to stay in that aisle with him as they got to know each other.

Rowan was a very happy man indeed as he and Aelin went to bed that night, the smiles still on their faces at Olive's unrestrained joy at the sight of the car they spent weeks looking at second-hand dealerships at, hunting for the perfect car for their daughter.

Thank the rutting gods for all those moments in the past, present, and future.

Rowan couldn't wait to marry her again, and neither could Aelin.

Life was good.

[mystical-marauder]

Painting stars

Sirius enters an art shop, hoping to finally buy the supplies he'd been saving up for for months, but walking through that door brings him much more than expected

This is my first oneshot and I hope you like it and I'll post more writing like this hopefully and my writing can also be found on ao3 my username is @loveglowslikethemoon hope you enjoy :)

Today had been pretty quiet with only a couple customers and the shop was closing in 10 minutes, I was ready to go home...

Ding!

I look up from my book, ‘What kind of customer turns up this late?’ I think. I look around to the door, standing there is a tall, handsome young man, his grey eyes excitedly glancing over the shop, his black hair tied up into a bun. His fair skin is disrupted only by a small beauty mark, under his eye. The confident smile that suddenly splits his face as he turns to me, brings out two dimples that break his otherwise smooth cheeks.

"Afternoon! I'm looking for art supplies, I mean I am in an art shop" he says, chuckling. "I actually need some advice, you have a very wide selection and I'm not quite sure what to pick." he gestures vaguely at the shelves full of pencils and brushes, paint and charcoal, canvases and sketchbooks... "You see I love painting but I have no idea which brushes to use, it's embarrassing really."

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, actually it's quite common, that’s what I’m here for” I reply with a smile “So you said you paint, right? What do you need, brushes, paint, canvases…?”

“I… um… I actually need everything… You see my parents, well, they kicked me out… and I left everything there… but I've finally saved up enough money to buy new supplies so here I am” he explains chuckling nervously. I look around nervously, unsure what to answer to that but I try to remain as steady and professional as possible.

“That's… terrible, I’m so sorry.” I say, smiling nervously, trying to seem comforting.

“It’s alright, it’s a good riddance I guess.” he replies cheerily “so about those supplies, what do you recommend?”

“Follow me, I’ll show you my recommendations. You’ll have to tell me a bit more about your style of painting so I can give you my best advice.” I say, leading him over to the shelves.

I quickly give him an overview of the different supplies before giving him a more detailed review of each product and advice. We slowly go through the shop and I don’t even notice the minutes fly by. As I walk to another shelf, I catch a glimpse of the clock. I should’ve closed the shop half an hour ago but I decide to leave it. I was having fun. What was the harm of staying open a little while longer? As the minutes pass, our chatter becomes less professional and more friendly. We talked and laughed together and soon enough, we’d picked out all his new art supplies.

“Well there’s everything you need!” I say, walking back to the counter. I start counting the price while chatting to him. “That’s £81.99, the easel is on the house for being such an amiable customer. Do come back if you ever need anything else, it was a pleasure to serve you.” I smile sadly, it had been more than a pleasure and I wish we didn’t have to say goodbye now.

“Thank you” he answers, giving me another of his confident smiles “I- I was wondering if umm… this might sound a bit weird but-” his piercing grey eyes quickly shift away, his normally confident appearance fading to show a childlike nervousness. “Before I left home, well, before I was forced out, I was studying anatomy, and well… I think you'd make the perfect model… Would it be alright if I painted you? If you don't mind, of course. Please don't feel forced to accept anything, but I'd love it if you do. And we could get a chance to get to know each other a little better, maybe somewhere where you don't work.” he clears his voice, as though happy to get this over with, and shifts his grey eyes back to me, his confidence returning. A new childish smile splits his face, as though it had never left it.

My eyes widen as I register what he just asked, and I quickly look away, embarrassed. ‘Perfect?’ as the word races through my mind again and again, I feel my face heat a little. Perfect? Me? No one had ever even called me pretty, let alone perfect, but now this man, who looks like a model himself, wants me to model for him and used that word to describe me. I return the smile, although mine is more nervous than childlike. He tilts his head slightly as though reading my emotions but seconds later, he lets out a small laugh which I quickly copy, trying to diffuse the awkwardness that flourished in me throughout this interaction.

“Are you sure you want me? I mean-” I cut off as I watch him nod confidently “alright I'd love to then!” I answer him, flattered, yet I can't stop the slight shake of my hands. What if I mess up? What if he ends up hating me?

“See you then” he says happily, turning away with a wink. I watch him as he walks out, finding myself to be grinning like a child, like him. I only have one thought left, ‘I don't have to say goodbye.’ I stay standing there for a few minutes with this thought before I snap back to reality. My eyes snap to the clock.

“Fuck” I whisper as I work out the time. If my boss finds out I closed the shop two hours late, I'm done for. ‘Oh well, it was worth it’ I think ‘and anyways he might not even find out.’ I start packing my bag when I suddenly realise he didn't give me a name let alone an address, how was I ever going to find him?! My eyes trail back to the door but of course he is long gone by now… I look around, panicked, as though expecting something to magically give me his address and that's when I notice the folded piece of paper on the counter. I slowly open it, my fingers trembling at the thought that it may not be what I think. I flatten out the paper and quickly read the snippet of writing. I smile inwardly, holding the small, unfolded piece of paper, relief slowly flooding through me as I trace the sentence again and again with my eyes, struggling to believe the evening's events.

19:30 tomorrow room 29 Mirror Hotel - Sirius Black

“Sirius Black” I whisper softly, smiling. “It's nice to meet you, Sirius Black”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I try to steady my hand as doubt rises in me again, one thought racing continuously through my mind ‘What if I mess up?’ I reach out and knock on the door hesitantly. I wait for a few seconds, yet it feels like an eternity, before the door is swung open.

“Found my note I see!” he exclaims, standing in the doorway with a huge grin lighting up his face. I smile back, trying to look as confident as he did.

“Here I brought you this” I reply, showing him my bag. I take out a small black book and present it to him, “it’s my favourite book, actually I was reading it when you came into the shop, I thought that maybe...” I trail off, embarrassed. I rub the back of my neck, feeling the warmth radiating from my palm. “I just thought maybe you'd find it interesting, I've read it so many times I practically know it off my heart” I laugh quietly, quickly glancing up at him “sorry I'm rambling”

Sirius looks at me, curiosity in his eyes. A small laugh escapes his lips before he turns to me and takes the book. He flips it, seemingly interested before looking back at me and taking a step back, to free the entrance. “Well why don't you come in?” he asks, before marking a pause, “I'm sorry I don't think I caught your name.”

“I'm Remus.” I respond, looking back up at him.

“Remus, that's a nice name.” he comments, his grin never leaving his face “the book seems interesting! I'll be sure to give it a try” I listen to him talk while I walk into his room, which is surprisingly organised. There isn't much, a table with an old laptop on it, two chairs, a bed, which takes up most of the space, a set of drawers, a small window and, in the corner, the art supplies he'd bought the day before. “You can sit here” he tells me, pushing one of the chairs towards me, I take it and sit down, putting my bag down next to it, unsure what to do next, I watch him walk over to the corner and pick up his art supplies.

“What do I need to do?” I ask, my hands still trembling slightly in my lap.

“Nothing, don't worry” he replies “just sit there and relax, there's nothing to be scared of” he addresses a friendly smile at me, pulling up the other chair to face me and setting up his easel in front of it. He takes out a brush and some paint, mixing them on his palette, and starts moving his hand up and down the canvas in big yet careful gestures. As the minutes pass, I start to feel more relaxed, watching his movements getting smaller and slower. “So, tell me a bit about yourself” he says, his eyes not moving from the canvas.

“Hmm oh well my life isn't very interesting. I grew up here with my parents, they're both gone now. I work in an art shop, as you know, I really like reading and I don't know what else to tell you…” I answer, thinking that my life must be too boring for him.

“That sounds interesting to me, you must know the surroundings pretty well then! Maybe you could show me around a little, I've been here for a few months but I still manage to get lost sometimes.” he tells me, chuckling.

“I'd love to, but only if you show me how to paint” I reply, nodding happily. As the minutes turn into hours and his painting progresses, we keep talking, about everything and nothing. It felt easy to talk to him, no not easy, right. Soon enough, I knew him like he'd been my friend for years. While we talk, his eyes tend to stay on the painting but sometimes they glide over to me, snapping back to the painting seconds later. In what felt like a short period of time, yet was a few hours, the painting was finished.

“Are you ready? If I'm honest, I'm a little nervous but if it's bad, blame it on the fact I couldn't paint for the past few months.” he admitted with a nervous chuckle, grabbing the canvas and hesitantly turning it towards me.

‘wow’

That's it. That's the only thought that went through my head as my eyes met themselves on the canvas. It's so beautiful and…

“Well? What do you think?” he urges nervously. I suddenly notice his hands trembling slightly and his eyes watching me intensely. He always seems so confident, yet I can see the fear in his eyes now.

“It's so… It's stunning… I'm speechless” I reply, looking him in the eyes quickly before turning back to the painting. The painting looked so realistic, my light curly brown hair and pale green eyes standing out against my pale skin, there is only one alteration. Instead of the freckles that normally sprinkle my face, are little stars. They're beautiful, shining like the stars I can now see from the window.

“Your freckles, they're beautiful, they look like the stars in the night sky. I thought I should paint them as such… They're like little beacons of hope and friendship, when I walked into that shop, I never thought I'd make a new friend, and well, thank you for giving me hope.” Sirius looks at me, his eyes sparkling with the same hope he was talking off. As I look at him, straight into his eyes, I feel a smile reach my lips, knowing my eyes have the same sparkle in them. And as our eyes dig deeper into one another, as we share a smile of happiness of who we found, the minutes slow, as though this moment was frozen in time, which I wish could be the case. Suddenly, we both break eye contact, as though embarrassed by the connection we'd both felt in that second. We both look back up to the painting, our eyes meeting again for a second, causing my face to heat a little. I slowly lift myself out of my seat, taking a step towards the painting to get a closer view of the talent etched on the canvas in front of me.

“It's- it's really stunning” I mutter, still speechless, taking yet another step forward. As I slowly edge forward, I notice something, something that had escaped me at first glance, as it usually escapes others' attention. A thin scar, tracing along the bridge of my freckled nose. Freckles which usually hide it, making it hardly noticeable, especially at first glance. A scar that had been given to me when I was only five, by an overexcited grey dog at the park. It's claw had scratched against the skin of my nose, after it had ambushed me. It had left me with a gash, one that never properly healed and could now be observed under the shape of a scar. This scar. The one he had noticed, when no one else had.

“You got my scar” I whisper in amazement. I slowly reach out to touch it, feeling like all that matters now, is this single detail. A small detail yet seeing it there had given me hope. At the last second, I pull my arm back, like an instinct, and, remembering the paint is still wet, I drop my hand to my side.

“Of course I got it, how could I miss it?” as his voice reaches my ears, I glance to my left to find him standing next to me, admiring the same spot as I was. Him. The man who, right now, felt like a dream come true. We both turn to face one another at the same second, almost as though we're in tune with one another. I find myself getting lost in his stormy grey eyes again, knowing that he was looking straight back into my emerald green ones. For a moment, there's no movement, we both stand there in silence, our eyes sparkling at each other, knowing that this is right. A shadow suddenly masks one of his eyes and I understand that a lock of his hair escaped his small bun. I watch it sway slightly before I instinctively take a step forward, closing what little distance is left between us, and reach out. I mark a pause, waiting to see if he'll reject the movement, but nothing happens. Carefully, I grab the small lock of hair and delicately brush it behind his ear.

As I hesitantly move my hand away, Sirius lets out a low throaty laugh, and I suddenly feel compelled to do something I'd never dreamed of. Instead of pulling my hand back, I instinctively slide it down to the back of his neck, cradling it carefully in my hand, and lean forward, closing the distance between us centimetre after centimetre until we collide. It was a short kiss but our movements were coordinated perfectly.

We pull away, almost reluctantly, and I watch his face quickly turn a deep crimson, knowing mine isn’t much better. I watch his eyes, like two storms lost in the middle of all this redness.

“That was… something” my eyes move down, as I utter these two words, as though expecting them to close the distance again. Our faces were still within centimetres of one another, making me struggle not to kiss them again.

“Something utterly spectacular” Sirius laughs breathlessly, intensifying my impulse to lean in again.

The room falls silent again, as I continue to watch the slight quiver on his lips. The only disturbance in the otherwise perfect silence is the sound of light rain splashing against the window and pavement along with our shallow breathing.

For a long while, we stand there, gazing quietly into each other's eyes, not uttering a single word, yet I feel complete, everything I need is right here, in front of me. This man, who has the most luscious hair, elegance and grace radiating from his unpolished appearance, a mischievous yet friendly glint in his eye, who is staring up at me with those mercury eyes.

And in that second, I feel certain that this is where I belong. That being with Sirius is right.

[ithinkilikeit-reactions]

NCT 127 “They realise they love you”

NCT 127 masterlist                                              Group Masterlist

Not requested, but I needed some fluff in my life ♥ 

Taeil: 

(I’ve been so attracted to Taeil lately) 

It started off with simply sitting in the same room and listening to music as you both worked on your computers. But it progressed quickly, singing along to the random tunes on the radio. Moving on to standing and dancing around to them, quite horribly. 

Grabbing onto Taeil’s hand and spinning into his chest, making him laugh. You couldn’t help but do the same as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Taeil tucked his face into neck and started swaying you back forth, slow dancing to fast music because you could. 

Taeil realised he could be as weird as he wanted with you and that you were just as weird him and he loved you for it. 

Johnny:

(I am mad that this hoody is not in my posession) 

Walking between the aisles, Johnny was looking for you attentively after he found the drinks he was looking for. He spotted you in an aisle, standing on your toes and reaching for something on the top shelf. You were just too short to reach. 

“Need help?” He asked, placing his drinks in your shopping cart. “That would be great.” You answered, smiling at him. He reciprocated a cheeky smile before crossing his arms. “Hmmm, tell me that I’m the best man in the world first.” You snorted at his words, needing to stifle a laugh. “You know what, I got it.” You told him, placing your feet on the lower shelves to reach the item you needed. Jumping down with it in your hands, you shook it at him triumphantly making him laugh. 

You weren’t shy to put him in his place with his bad jokes when you needed too and you were completely dependant on him, it made him absolutely love you. 

Taeyong: 

“It’s going to be a late night again.” Those seemed to be the words you had been hearing a lot lately, but it didn’t bother you. You were understanding that his job wasn’t like a regular 9-5 job, you knew that when you said you would date him. This time wasn’t any different for you, you accepted it and simply watched your show until you were tired. 

However it was diferent for Taeyong this time, he felt guilty for not being there and it was evident when he came home to find you simply watching your show. Taeyong walked over to you and hugged you tightly, catching you off guard. “Thank you for always understanding when I need to work. Thank you.” He felt the need to tell you, even if it was out of the blue. 

He realised every time he came home to find you still there, he loved you. He loved that you understood and that you never blamed him for his schedule. 

Yuta:

Yuta was feeling the need to be productive, tidying up the house slightly and doing some of the general housework while you were out. But when he got to your room, he found some interesting reading material. It was all about Japan, recipes, popular things to do, important culture information. This was normal, but what stood out to him were the sticky notes placed on the pages. Places he had mentioned being fun and food he had mentioned being good had little notes written by them. 

“Oh you found my book.” You remarked, looking at him from the door frame. “Yeah, what are all these notes?” Yuta asked with a smile. You moved to sit down by him and took the book from his hands. “These are places you have talked about, things you said you enjoyed doing and eating. Because well, I want to learn about what you love and what you enjoyed doing and stuff we can do and try together in the future.” Your words made Yuta smile even wider. 

You wanted to know about his interest, you cared enough to study on these things and make future plans. He loved you for it. 

Doyoung: 

The little projector in his room was perfect for movie dates, broadcasting your movie onto his wall as you both laid in bed and watched. Doyoung’s commentary was witty, the movie not really being that good... quite bad actually and deserving some harsh commentary. 

There was a lul in the film, making you slip your hands under the hoodie he was wearing, not for any other reason than he was nice and warm. Doyoung knew that and accepted your touch. “This acting is so-” He stopped midsentence once he looked at you. Seeing that all you needed was his body heat to get you to fall asleep. His lips curled up into a smile and wrapped his arms around you tightly. 

It was a small action of dependency on your end but it made Doyoung’s heart swell. He loved that you were started to depend on him, because well, he was depending on you too. 

Jaehyun: 

The record store had music playing softly in the background when you both entered. It really had a nostalgic feeling, old records filling the racks and old band posters lining the walls. You both spread out through the store, taking your time to look at records and cd’s. You were great at spending time together but not necessarily needing to be right next to each other. 

Jaehyun looked at you from across the store, simply watching you flip through the records with a little smile on your face. You looked up and locked eyes with him, waving softly once you noticed he was staring. Jaehyun laughed to himself and looked away, only to find himself staring at you once again. This time you were oblivious to it and simply flipping through cd’s. 

You always caught his attention, you were effortlessly beautiful to him even doing the bare minimum. It was something he loved about you. 

Winwin/Sicheng: 

Sicheng had noticed you had been studying something over the course of the last few weeks. That your nose was stuck in your books and it was clearly a subject you were interested in. one day, curiousity got the better of him and he couldn’t help but flip through your study books. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were learning Chinese?” Sicheng asked you, holding your books. “I was going to surprise you. I know you’re more comfortable speaking Chinese and I want you to be completely comfortable with me.” You said softly and you could see his ears turning red. “That- I- I want to help you then! Be your teacher!” He stuttered, trying to hide how happy it made him. 

You wanted him to be incredibly comfortable with him, you wanted to be able to communicate on the fullest level and it was something he really cherished. 

Jungwoo: 

“Shhh you don’t want to wake anyone up.” You said, looking at Jungwoo’s face as you tiptoed through the dorm. “You shhh, this was your idea.” He laughed and you raised your fingers to your lips, trying to stifle your own laughter. You both made it to the kitchen and turned the lights on. Jungwoo went to the fridge and opened it quite agressively, a bottle of juice rolling out and hitting the floor with a loud thud. 

You both couldn’t hold back your laughter anymore, your adventure for a midnight snack being nothing short of a disaster and comical. Jungwoo grabbed what he was originally looking for from the fridge and handed it to you to turn around. “What are you two doing?” Taeyong asked, arms crossed and staring at you both. “Nothing.” Jungwoo quickly said, brushing past the older male and sending you into giggles. Once you both reached his bedroom with your snack you broke out in a fit of laughter. 

Jungwoo looked at you as you settled in his room, still laughing. He loved that he could make some lighthearted trouble with you. He loved that he could laugh with you. 

Mark: 

You had been considering asking him for the longest time, but you knew Mark was very busy and probably didn’t have the time too. But you still wanted to learn, so you finally took the step. “Mark... can you teach me how to play the guitar?” You asked, holding his guitar by the neck gently. The question caught him off guard, making him look up at you with wide eyes. “I didn’t know you wanted to learn how to play.” Mark said, gesturing for you to sit by him.

“I’ve been wanting too, but you’ve just been so busy. I didn’t want you to feel like you needed too.” You explained, allowing the guitar to rest in your lap. Mark wrapped his arms around you after moving the guitar. “I mean I don’t need too, but I want too. It would be really fun to play together.” Mark said and you smiled not being able to contain your own excitement. “Ahh thank you!” You hugged him tightly, making him turn pink. 

He loved how excited you got over small things and how eager you were to learn something new. It was just so endearing to Mark. 

Haechan/Donghyuk: 

You had both made yourselves comfortable, laptops and gaming computer ready to go. It was you and Donghyuk vs. Johnny and Jaehyun and you were both not planning on losing. “Y/N’s like impossible to kill!” Johnny said in frustration and you simply laughed, bouncing around the map happily. Donghyuk laughed, taking out Jaehyun as you swiftly did the same to Johnny. 

“There we go! That’s my baby!” Donghyuk cheered, knowing that the fact that you two won meant that you wouldn’t have to pay for snacks that night. Annoyed, the two older guys left to go pick up the order while muttering things under their breath. “I keep telling them to stop challenging us as a duo, but they don’t learn.” You said, settling into Donghyuk’s bed. He joined you with a small laugh and rested his head on your chest. “You’re right, we’re just too good.” You both laughed and allowed your fingers to toy with his hair. 

In that moment he realised that you and him had so much in common, even in teasing it made him realise he was head over heels for you.