#red padded ottoman

[rarasek]

Transitional Sunroom in Orange County Image of a medium-sized transitional sunroom without a fireplace

[chocolatespacemuffins]

Sun Room - Traditional Sunroom Example of a mid-sized classic travertine floor sunroom design with a standard fireplace, a stone fireplace and a standard ceiling

[needcake]

@hetaberia-week

Day 1: historical .

.

1539,

Lisbon

A man in his crew had made a comment that had stayed with him hours after they had reached the capital. In fact, Portugal was still thinking about it when he finally left the Casa da Índia and crossed the short distance to the Ribeira Palace, walking up the stone steps in the winding staircases, nodding at the palace staff that passed him by and greeted him demurely, and, being himself clad in black, it had taken him a moment to realize everyone was too.

No bad news ever comes unaccompanied, his crewmate had said, and Portugal was still thinking of that when he opened the door to the King’s private drawing room, finding him with his eyes red-rimmed, clutching a letter to his chest in anguish. The Empress of the Holy Roman Empire, his younger sister, had died in May, he said, her last pregnancy had robbed her much of her strength, the child had not survived either. Portugal still smelled of gunpowder and ash, he could still feel grains of Indian sand inside his boots, but his eyes were lost on some unidentifiable corner of the King’s private drawing room as he sat down before his desk. They never lived long, did they. He had held her as a baby in his arms, had seen her learn her first words of his language, had attended her wedding, had visited her children. Their lives went by so fast, not like his.

There would be a funeral and the King wanted him to accompany him, Portugal did not think to say no. He was tired, battered, hurting, ears still ringing from cannon blasts shot across the Indian coast by Ottoman ships into his fortress in Diu, wearing months of a siege they had at great pains finally won. No bad news ever comes unaccompanied, and he found himself on a carriage a few days later bound to Granada, crossing the border with his shoulders heavy with padded fabric, his hair combed and clean, golden rings on his fingers.

The husband, the Holy Roman Emperor, was not there when they reached the church. Unable to bring himself to say the final good-bye to his beloved wife, he had instead sent his son in his place, his first-born and only surviving son and heir, and the boy stood, stone-faced and ashen, accompanying his mother’s coffin into the small, packed full church alone.

How small he seemed at that moment. And Portugal would never forget that image, of the boy entering the church behind his mother’s casket, his posture stiff with grief, dark clothes too heavy, golden fleece too garish. It would be the last time he ever saw him as a child. Once the ceremony was over and the body was buried, the son would leave the marble grounds of that church forever changed. No bad news ever came unaccompanied.

From across the entrance to the church while the crowd dispersed, surrounded by a group of nobles and high-ranking clergymen, Spain spotted him and excused himself to come to him, the pull on the bottom of his stomach becoming stronger the closer he came, recognizing him as an old soul like himself, despite him being so much younger.

“We did everything we could to save her,” Spain said, taking Portugal’s numb hand between both of his in a comforting gesture.

It should be the other way around, Portugal thought, looking at his young face and red-rimmed eyes. It was Spain who had just lost a Queen and an Empress, Portugal had lost her long ago, the moment they had sent her away to be married in a political alliance, but Spain had just lost a companion, an advisor, a friend. Portugal should be the one comforting him.

What an odd creature this boy was, he thought, observing the brown curls that framed his youthful face, feeling the calluses on his fingers from handling sword and quill, looking into his olive green eyes that so reminded him of someone else.

Portugal laid his other hand on top of theirs.

“I’m very sorry for your loss,” he said, earnestly, and Spain’s composure cracked, his chin trembling as he turned his eyes down to nod at the ground, sniffling.

And how odd, he thought, how so very odd, that his first instinct had been to pull him into his arms, even though he didn’t.

--

Notes: Portugal is coming home from the Battle of Diu (1538), only to discover the Holy Roman Empress, Isabella of Portugal, had died in May, 1539.

[alkali1]

Imagine waddling into the OB/GYN waiting room for your 40 week appointment. Just barely mobile, you probably shouldn't even be walking but the sheer size and weight of your colossally widened ass broke your wheelchair and you don't want to buy a custom one since you're going to give birth so soon. Held under both shoulders by your partner and mother-in-law, you're red in the face and gasping for breath just from being waddled from the van to the clinic.

This clinic sees a lot of high-order multiple patients, and many of them, like yourself, grow hugely fat from the treatment plan of stuffing your stomach with as many calories as possible at nearly every waking moment in order for the babies to get enough nutrition to stay in until full term. You check in and are desperate to sit down, but unfortunately both of the waiting room's comfortable couches are taken, one by a man lying down, huffing and puffing through early labor, and the other by an enormous woman with her terrifyingly huge torpedo belly resting on an ottoman in front of her. Her wide, cellulite-ridden posterior barely left room for her skinny husband, who was being nearly smothered by her ass cheek as he calmingly rubbed the side of her overtaxed belly.

You realize your best option is an extra-wide loveseat, and your partner gently lowers you down and sets a padded stool beneath your fat, swollen underbelly. Your wobbling shelf of an ass sticks uncomfortably on the high armrests, suddenly plopping through and knocking the wind out of you as your heavy womb is thrust against your stomach and lungs. You're stuck, and badly this time. You're uncomfortable with the armrests squeezing against your bulging buttocks, your sextuplet bump crushing your ribcage, and your sweaty P cup udders pushed up into your chin, but you're so desperate for rest that you have to just wait. Hopefully it won't take too long to extract your bloated body when it's time for your appointment.

[quotesfrommyreading]

For most people, discovering a frog living in your fence post would make you feel either kind of creeped out or kind of charmed. For one guy in Australia, it was a challenge: He decided to make it the sweetest pad possible. In a now-viral two-minute TikTok video, he designs and 3-D-prints his frog an elaborate home. He keeps adding features until the lucky amphibian has an attached pool, a downstairs mating pond with a tadpole ramp, and a predator-proof safe room.

This frog house was gleefully over the top, practically engineered to go viral with its renovations for “increased ribbit amplification” and a brushtail possum who occasionally likes to drink water from the pool. But frog houses as an idea are worth taking seriously. Animals don’t need much to get cozy in our backyards and balconies, as the world has already learned with birds. One ecologist found that bird feeding goes back at least 3,500 years; in the 18th century, the facades of Ottoman palaces and mosques were fitted with structures to house birds, who were seen as both holy and lucky. Birdhouses and bird feeders are so thoroughly part of human culture that purple martins in eastern North America nest almost exclusively in houses made by humans.

But why do birds get all the love? Building a little house for a frog to shelter in, or a pond where eggs can hatch and tadpoles can grow, is a great idea if you’ve got a place to put it. Even a tiny pondlet in a container on a patio can raise a whole amphibian generation. You can provide meaningful help to animals that need it, and participate in species conservation at home with very few downsides. Honestly, creating a backyard pond is probably better than putting up a birdhouse. Will someone please think of the urban amphibian?

Birds are beautiful, and they sing—it is no wonder we have long welcomed them into human spaces. At some level, it doesn’t even feel like sharing space, because birds live up high, in trees and on rooftops and telephone wires. They get the sky, and we get the land. Seems fair. But frogs? Inviting them into the garden can make you feel uneasy. Whereas birds are “so obvious and so charismatic,” Erin Sauer, an ecologist at the University of Arkansas who has studied both urban birds and urban amphibians, told me, frogs are “cryptic” and “camouflaged”—“they don't want you to find them.” Many frogs in temperate zones, including much of the United States, are brown and green, and more active at night. They are a subtle pleasure, compared with a crimson cardinal or an iridescent hummingbird.

It might not be obvious that some amphibians are probably living not too far from you, in part because they stay hidden. Frogs, newts, and salamanders exist in most cities. In New York, you can hear gray tree frogs call in Brooklyn Heights. In Los Angeles, the canyons of Griffith Park are filled with bumpy western toads. According to the biodiversity tracker iNaturalist, 28 species of amphibians have been spotted in Columbus, Ohio, including the colorful eastern red-backed salamander.

But amphibian populations are declining. Forty-one percent of amphibians are threatened with extinction, in part because of an ongoing fungal pandemic that as of four years ago had driven an estimated 90 species extinct. Frogs also have habitat needs that are “so specific,” Sauer said: They must have both water and land to complete their life cycle.

Still, if there are frogs near your home and some relatively protected route for them to travel, and you build a pond with vegetation around it, they will likely move in. An analysis of dozens of projects that created ponds for amphibians found that in every study, frogs showed up at some or all of the ponds. And many of the studies found that the number of species was similar or higher in created ponds than in natural ponds. Not all of those ponds were in cities, but another study looked at ponds in Portland, Oregon, and found similar results. The biggest predictor of how well a pond attracted frogs wasn’t whether it was real or fake, but the amount of plants growing in and around it.

Frog ponds aren’t very common residential features (yet), but it isn’t like no one thinks of amphibian-kind when designing their outdoor space. The U.S. Department of Agriculture has some advice for creating effective backyard conservation ponds for native wildlife. There are any number of guides online to building toad abodes, frog hotels, and general-purpose backyard frog ponds. Some gardeners install toad houses, hoping that a toad will move in and pay rent by eating common garden pests. You can even buy handmade toad houses on Etsy. And naturally, TikTok Frog House Guy is now selling frog houses as well.

It can be simple, and cheap, to invite amphibians over to your place. Tree frogs love to hang out inside vertical tubes, so simply pounding a few PVC pipes into the ground can create a little frog hotel. Building a cozy house for toads can be as easy as half-burying a broken pot. Making a frog pond is as straightforward as digging a hole; setting a commercial pond liner, an old bathtub, or even a plastic storage tote in the hole; and filling it with rocks and water. “You don’t need to 3-D-print some elaborate frog mansion,” Sauer told me.

I had called Sauer to set my mind at ease on one point: Would creating an artificial house or pond also create a transmission point for disease? She told me it wasn’t worth worrying about. Yes, multiple frogs might move into a pond or house, and they might touch if they mate, but frogs already gather in groups naturally, whereas birds at bird feeders can congregate in unusually high numbers. Feeders can pose a disease risk to birds, Sauer said: “You have a single place with one porthole, and they stick their faces in there and chew on things. And then their friends come over and do the same thing.” A frog pond can even bring in birds, who will use it to bathe and drink—with less chance of disease transmission.

There are very few downsides to catering to your local frogs, the biggest of which is that your backyard might have more mosquitoes—mosquitoes, like frogs, breed in water. To avoid that, you either need animals that will eat all of the mosquitoes (such as dragonflies or some tadpoles) or you need to keep the water moving. A solar-powered aerator costs about $30.

It is very possible that the frogs that show up to your patio water feature won’t be critically endangered species, but that’s okay. “We want to keep common species common so they don’t decline,” Sauer said. It all helps. Providing habitat for amphibians is important, but researchers are also working on frog houses that will actually help save frogs from the fungal pathogen. These houses would be like little greenhouses: hot enough to kill the fungus but not too hot for the frog’s comfort.

Not everyone can or wants to build a frog house. But they might be interested in putting a pot full of wildflowers for pollinators on their balcony. Saving species in the 21st century isn’t just about protecting big, undeveloped parks—although we need those too. It is also about figuring out how to coexist with the many species that can thrive in the urban, suburban, exurban, and agricultural landscapes we’ve made. That we’ve shared space with birds for thousands of years proves we can do it.

There’s evidence that this is already happening, and birdhouses and frog houses are just the beginning. People are adding bee hotels and bat houses, and planting milkweed for endangered monarch butterflies to lay their eggs on. It can be dizzying to think about all the species that need help right now, but engaging in everyday conservation can also just be fun, helping to turn neighborhoods into corridors of habitat for creatures such as frogs. Our cities can be wetlands too, at least in spots. Our kids can watch tadpoles on summer days. And in the spring, we can listen to the frogs sing at dusk.

  —  You Should Build a Frog Pond

[ruiniel]

Trevor props his head against the cushioned backrest, then picks up the nai and cloth. “I’ve had some dealings with Speaker folk before.”

“You have?” Sypha follows his movements, how he sets to clean each pipe.

“Yeah. It was right after I ran away, when they put the old manor to flame.” He looks around the study, sees Alucard rising from his desk, striding over and falling into his armchair facing them. Zori jumps down from Sypha’s lap, padding over to sniff at his ankles.

“What happened?” asks Sypha, hugging her knees to her chest.

“A blade caught me here, during that night,” he points at the red scar cutting across his eye and cheek, “and, of course, I had no one to turn to, so I hid in the woods for a few days; the wound got infected, and next I recall, I awoke staring at the sky with faces hanging over me. They said they were Speakers and that I needed not fear them.” He’s cleaning the nai as he speaks, one tube at a time. 

Sypha leans closer, reaches to cup his face. Trevor starts. “No one should ever have to go through that. Least of all a child.”

“No need to feel sorry for me,” Trevor mumbles. “I was just fucking fortunate that day. They nursed me back to health, and afterwards, even asked me if I wanted to join them. Imagine that.”

“Speaker Trevor!” Sypha goes, ruffling his hair. “I can see it now.”

“No thanks,” Trevor pulls away, but Sypha just presses closer, head falling against his shoulder as she laughs and starts listing the various traits of would-be Speaker-Trevor.

It’s natural, her lightness of mood, nothing forced or fabricated. Still, unease grips him, has his blood racing — he looks up to Alucard, sitting relaxed and silent with his feet propped on an ottoman, the cat sleeping in his lap. He’s watching them, and guilt twists in Trevor’s gut. But there’s no judgment or disapproval on his face, or anything else Trevor might expect; he’s smiling.

[dekorcompanys]

10 Stunning Design Accent Furniture Ideas To Elevate Your Home Decor

Step up your interior design game with a selection of stunning accent furniture ideas! Whether it is a statement piece like a bold-coloured sofa or unique console tables, these accent furniture ideas are sure to take your home decor to the next level. So why settle for a dull interior when you can showcase your style with some eye-catching home decoration items online? Upgrade your space today with these amazing ideas!

10 Accent Furniture Ideas To Elevate Your Home Decor

Accent furniture from the home decoration items online store such as Dekor Company can completely transform the look and feel of a room. With a few strategic placements, you can create a cohesive and stylish space. From colorful accent chairs to eye-catching side tables, read on for our top ideas on how to elevate your home decor with accent furniture.

1. Expressive Elements 

One way to add an expressive element to your home decor is to incorporate bold and bright colours. For example, a bright blue sofa can bring life to a room filled with neutral colours, or a red accent table or chair can add a pop of colour to a space that is lacking excitement. 

By incorporating design accent furniture with different textures, you can create a visually interesting and dynamic space. For example, a furry white rug paired with The Mystique Tube Double Decker Accent Side Table can create an unexpected and playful combination. 

2. Functional Artistry 

Opt a sleek and modern accent table with sleek metal legs. This not only adds interest to the design but also creates a sturdier piece that can withstand wear and tear.

Small spaces often require furniture that serves multiple functions, and this is where accent pieces’ shine. A decorative side table for living room, for example, can double as seating when needed, or a sleek ladder shelf can store books and display plants.

3. Focal Points Of Style

Pairing dark, bold pieces with light and airy furnishings or vice versa, creates an eye-catching focal point that will grab anyone’s attention.

Look for spaces in your home that are already visually interesting, such as a fireplace or an entryway, and use the centre table for living room to draw attention to that area. 

4. Fusion Of Styles

Opt for centre table design with one or two elements that represent each style and play with them until they merge seamlessly. For example, try combining Artzfolio Floor Rug & Carpet with modern minimalist console tables. Or pair antique ceramic vases with geometric metal shelving.

Avoid cramming too many different design elements such as the centre table for living room or side table for living room in one room. This makes your space feel cluttered and disjointed. Instead, choose one or two focal points and build around them.

5. Room-Specific Brilliance 

Accent furniture pieces such as a brightly-coloured centre table for living room, an interesting side table for living room, or an ornate floor lamp can serve as focal points and add interest to a room.

Consider using a vintage suitcase as a coffee table, a ladder as a bookshelf, or a reclaimed wooden pallet as a headboard. These unconventional furniture choices can add a sense of personality and character to a space while also being functional and practical.

6. Tech-Infused Accents 

By incorporating wireless charging pads into side tables for living room, coffee tables, or even desk chairs, you can offer a convenient and practical way for people to keep their devices charged and within arm’s reach.

Adding hidden compartments, pull-out drawers, or even built-in charging stations, help you create furniture designs that not only look sleek and modern but also offer practical functionality that can simplify people’s lives. 

7. Multi-Functional Mastery 

A stylish ottoman can serve as extra seating or a footrest, while also hiding away blankets, books, and other clutter. A centre table for living room with built-in storage can be a functional addition to your entryway, storing shoes and other items out of sight.

Opt for a sofa bed that can easily transform a living room into a guest room, making it perfect for small apartments. Also, choose console tables that convert into a desk which is perfect for a home office that doubles as a living space.

Top 5 Accent Furniture Trends to Elevate Your Decor

Are you tired of the same old boring furniture in your home? Want to spice things up with some trendy accent pieces? Here are the top 5 accent furniture trends that will elevate your decor and make your space feel fresh and stylish.

1. Statement Chairs 

Statement chairs revolutionize interior design by offering eye-catching seating options that blend comfort with unparalleled style. Furniture such as Lynnet Accent Lounge Chair serve as focal points and become a bridge between art and function. Enriching interiors with their unique charm, these types of chairs offer an opportunity for self-expression in home decor.

2. Sculptural Side Tables 

Sculptural side tables such as Arcadian Gold and Marble Round Side Accent Table

encompass functional art pieces that serve as captivating conversation starters. These centre table design combine practicality with artistic design thus elevating interior decor.

3. Luxurious Velvet Touch

Velvet’s soft and plush appearance catches the eye, instantly transforming an ordinary piece of furniture into a standout statement, enhancing the overall aesthetic appeal of a room. Velvet’s softness can create an intriguing contrast when paired with other materials like wood, metal, or glass in accent furniture, enhancing the visual interest of the piece.

4. Organic Elements 

Wood and natural textiles evoke a sense of warmth and coziness, making these pieces inviting and comfortable for relaxation. Pairing organic materials with contemporary designs creates a harmonious balance between the natural world and modern aesthetics.

5. Mixed Material Magic

By combining diverse elements like metals, glass, and wood in centre table design such as Luminary Junction Dining Table Gold – White Marble Top, you can create visually captivating pieces. This fusion adds depth, texture, and a contemporary edge to furniture, resulting in striking and unique design statements that elevate interior aesthetics.

With the convenience of home decoration items online, you can easily transform your living space with a few simple additions. From vintage-inspired chairs to modern statement pieces, these accent furniture ideas will leave your guests in awe and make your home truly shine.

Source Url- https://trickduffer.com/design-accent-furniture-ideas-to-elevate-your-home-decor/

[ammg-old2]

For most people, discovering a frog living in your fence post would make you feel either kind of creeped out or kind of charmed. For one guy in Australia, it was a challenge: He decided to make it the sweetest pad possible. In a now-viral two-minute TikTok video, he designs and 3-D-prints his frog an elaborate home. He keeps adding features until the lucky amphibian has an attached pool, a downstairs mating pond with a tadpole ramp, and a predator-proof safe room.

This frog house was gleefully over the top, practically engineered to go viral with its renovations for “increased ribbit amplification” and a brushtail possum who occasionally likes to drink water from the pool. But frog houses as an idea are worth taking seriously. Animals don’t need much to get cozy in our backyards and balconies, as the world has already learned with birds. One ecologist found that bird feeding goes back at least 3,500 years; in the 18th century, the facades of Ottoman palaces and mosques were fitted with structures to house birds, who were seen as both holy and lucky. Birdhouses and bird feeders are so thoroughly part of human culture that purple martins in eastern North America nest almost exclusively in houses made by humans.

But why do birds get all the love? Building a little house for a frog to shelter in, or a pond where eggs can hatch and tadpoles can grow, is a great idea if you’ve got a place to put it. Even a tiny pondlet in a container on a patio can raise a whole amphibian generation. You can provide meaningful help to animals that need it, and participate in species conservation at home with very few downsides. Honestly, creating a backyard pond is probably better than putting up a birdhouse. Will someone please think of the urban amphibian?

Birds are beautiful, and they sing—it is no wonder we have long welcomed them into human spaces. At some level, it doesn’t even feel like sharing space, because birds live up high, in trees and on rooftops and telephone wires. They get the sky, and we get the land. Seems fair. But frogs? Inviting them into the garden can make you feel uneasy. Whereas birds are “so obvious and so charismatic,” Erin Sauer, an ecologist at the University of Arkansas who has studied both urban birds and urban amphibians, told me, frogs are “cryptic” and “camouflaged”—“they don't want you to find them.” Many frogs in temperate zones, including much of the United States, are brown and green, and more active at night. They are a subtle pleasure, compared with a crimson cardinal or an iridescent hummingbird.

It might not be obvious that some amphibians are probably living not too far from you, in part because they stay hidden. Frogs, newts, and salamanders exist in most cities. In New York, you can hear gray tree frogs call in Brooklyn Heights. In Los Angeles, the canyons of Griffith Park are filled with bumpy western toads. According to the biodiversity tracker iNaturalist, 28 species of amphibians have been spotted in Columbus, Ohio, including the colorful eastern red-backed salamander.

But amphibian populations are declining. Forty-one percent of amphibians are threatened with extinction, in part because of an ongoing fungal pandemic that as of four years ago had driven an estimated 90 species extinct. Frogs also have habitat needs that are “so specific,” Sauer said: They must have both water and land to complete their life cycle.

Still, if there are frogs near your home and some relatively protected route for them to travel, and you build a pond with vegetation around it, they will likely move in. An analysis of dozens of projects that created ponds for amphibians found that in every study, frogs showed up at some or all of the ponds. And many of the studies found that the number of species was similar or higher in created ponds than in natural ponds. Not all of those ponds were in cities, but another study looked at ponds in Portland, Oregon, and found similar results. The biggest predictor of how well a pond attracted frogs wasn’t whether it was real or fake, but the amount of plants growing in and around it.

Frog ponds aren’t very common residential features (yet), but it isn’t like no one thinks of amphibian-kind when designing their outdoor space. The U.S. Department of Agriculture has some advice for creating effective backyard conservation ponds for native wildlife. There are any number of guides online to building toad abodes, frog hotels, and general-purpose backyard frog ponds. Some gardeners install toad houses, hoping that a toad will move in and pay rent by eating common garden pests. You can even buy handmade toad houses on Etsy. And naturally, TikTok Frog House Guy is now selling frog houses as well.

It can be simple, and cheap, to invite amphibians over to your place. Tree frogs love to hang out inside vertical tubes, so simply pounding a few PVC pipes into the ground can create a little frog hotel. Building a cozy house for toads can be as easy as half-burying a broken pot. Making a frog pond is as straightforward as digging a hole; setting a commercial pond liner, an old bathtub, or even a plastic storage tote in the hole; and filling it with rocks and water. “You don’t need to 3-D-print some elaborate frog mansion,” Sauer told me.

I had called Sauer to set my mind at ease on one point: Would creating an artificial house or pond also create a transmission point for disease? She told me it wasn’t worth worrying about. Yes, multiple frogs might move into a pond or house, and they might touch if they mate, but frogs already gather in groups naturally, whereas birds at bird feeders can congregate in unusually high numbers. Feeders can pose a disease risk to birds, Sauer said: “You have a single place with one porthole, and they stick their faces in there and chew on things. And then their friends come over and do the same thing.” A frog pond can even bring in birds, who will use it to bathe and drink—with less chance of disease transmission.

There are very few downsides to catering to your local frogs, the biggest of which is that your backyard might have more mosquitoes—mosquitoes, like frogs, breed in water. To avoid that, you either need animals that will eat all of the mosquitoes (such as dragonflies or some tadpoles) or you need to keep the water moving. A solar-powered aerator costs about $30.

It is very possible that the frogs that show up to your patio water feature won’t be critically endangered species, but that’s okay. “We want to keep common species common so they don’t decline,” Sauer said. It all helps. Providing habitat for amphibians is important, but researchers are also working on frog houses that will actually help save frogs from the fungal pathogen. These houses would be like little greenhouses: hot enough to kill the fungus but not too hot for the frog’s comfort.

Not everyone can or wants to build a frog house. But they might be interested in putting a pot full of wildflowers for pollinators on their balcony. Saving species in the 21st century isn’t just about protecting big, undeveloped parks—although we need those too. It is also about figuring out how to coexist with the many species that can thrive in the urban, suburban, exurban, and agricultural landscapes we’ve made. That we’ve shared space with birds for thousands of years proves we can do it.

There’s evidence that this is already happening, and birdhouses and frog houses are just the beginning. People are adding bee hotels and bat houses, and planting milkweed for endangered monarch butterflies to lay their eggs on. It can be dizzying to think about all the species that need help right now, but engaging in everyday conservation can also just be fun, helping to turn neighborhoods into corridors of habitat for creatures such as frogs. Our cities can be wetlands too, at least in spots. Our kids can watch tadpoles on summer days. And in the spring, we can listen to the frogs sing at dusk.

[bubblyhoney]

the sun

warnings: the word shit teehee

tags: georgenotfound x gn!reader

words: 1243

A/N: very fun to write in the dark and with gentle music :]

-

“What is this supposed to do again?” George asks, curling his upper lip into his mouth as you smooth your finger across his mustache. His face is smeared in a suspiciously neon purple face mask that smells like honeysuckle and very slightly baby wipes. In the name of ageless beauty, and all that.

“It’s supposed to hydrate your skin,” you mumble in response, chewing on a dry patch of your lip in concentration. It won’t apply very evenly across his facial hair and you squint, blowing air out of your mouth. “When was the last time you shaved?”

“Couple days ago,” he answers. You run your finger under the running faucet and lean back onto the kitchen counter. “Done?” His eyebrows lift his hairline back and you watch it shift.

“Yup,” you chirp, and smooth a hand across the top of his head. He ducks from your touch, smile hidden, and pads to the bathroom. Light floods the room and he’s silently examining his face when you follow.

It’s late on a Wednesday after shared pizza and milkshakes for dinner. He invited you to sleep over (quite sheepishly, may I add—red cheeks) and watch a film. It’s pretty early in your relationship to have sleepovers, especially since he hasn’t even been to your house that’s two towns over. You’ve only been to his flat a couple times, mainly after a night of drinks to wait for your night train. He entertains you with tours of different drawers and these tiny frozen cheesecakes he has in the freezer; he was willing to sacrifice the strawberry chocolate one for you. You kissed him for it.

“How long do we wait?” He asks, suddenly hushed like it’s a secret, and prods one finger at his sticky cheek.

“15 minutes, the package says. Perfect time to get part of an episode in.” You wiggle your eyebrows. You two just started rewatching The Walking Dead and are slowly making your way through the first season. He makes a face, cooing, and exhales a laugh as he flicks the light switch off on your way out.

“Here we go,” he sighs, and clicks resume as you plop down onto the sofa and scoot closer to him. Dragging the ottoman closer to him with a foot, he crosses his legs on the suede and settles back into the cushions.

You swoop in, snaking an arm around his back and swinging a leg over his. His heart beats loud in your ears when you lean closer and rest the side of your head on his shoulder, ears warming at the proximity. You risk a glance up to his lavender face and laugh, seeing his cheeks glowing through the mud.

“Shut up,” he grumbles, but you feel his arm drop onto the ridge of the sofa behind you and his hand resting on your skin through your sweater.

His fingertips slide under and press ever so slightly into the skin of your upper back when something on the TV makes him nervous. The mask stays on longer than normal as you two are too enamored with your show, but after ten minutes past the fifteen mark George jumps up, knocking your leg off, and says something about “getting this shit off” before making his way to the bathroom. He has it mostly washed off when you get in there, except a small patch by his temple that you wipe off with a wet wash rag before turning to do the same thing for yourself. He looks at you in the mirror, studying you, and leans onto the counter with one hand so he can push his now-clean face into your shoulder to watch.

Nearly half of the episode is over when you two return to the couch, popcorn in hand, and curl into each other for the rest of the night. The sky grows darker and darker until it’s a stripe of blue on the horizon, black filling the sky with a random star or two. George sits with you woven into him, head resting against yours, and nods off to sleep. Who knew he snores? (You. You knew. He fell asleep one time on the tube after an all-nighter and woke himself up choking on a snore.) He smells like honey, so it’s no wonder you drift off with your mouth hung open, fingers in a jumbled mess on your lap.

You’re rudely awoken by an alarm. Jolting awake, you gasp and press a hand to your chest. George’s head falls sharply onto your chest and he smarts awake, eyes wide. You grasp jerkily for your phone somewhere in the cushions and produce it, pressing a button to silence the ringing. 4:45. You just blink for a second and let your eyes adjust to the darkness. Netflix’s “are you still watching?” screen stares back at you two and you can barely see your face in the dim reflection.

“Why the hell would you have an alarm set for 4:45?” He asks, voice hoarse, and rubs the heel of his palm at his eye socket.

“I have no idea,” you croak.

You two sit in silence for the time it takes for him to throw the blanket off his lap, tug his shirt down, and slowly make his way towards the bedroom. His ankles pop as he walks and he briefly reminds you of a wooden statue you used for an art class in college; he walks like his joints are articulated with metal. Hovering in the doorway, he looks back at you with half-closed lids.

“I’m coming.” Tossing your phone back into the mess of the sofa, you pull yourself to your feet and groan immediately. The sleeping position you two were in just ruined the state of your spine. You’ll have to send him your chiropractor bill.

He’s sat on the edge of his bed when you enter the dark room, groggily tugging his socks off and throwing them onto the floor. You round the bed, fumbling for the covers, and manage to tug them back far enough to slide yourself in and pull them up past your shoulders. They smell like soap and vanilla. George yanks the sheets back and falls violently onto the bed, not moving. You let out a quiet snort, not wanting to break the calm night, and shift onto your side. He’s laying like a corpse flat on its back.

“You look dead,” you say with a hushed voice. He just nods slowly.

The bed creaks as he shuffles closer to the middle, pushing himself up into his elbows and bringing his legs under the blankets. The air warms when he gets closer, and it makes you close your eyes. It’s when you feel his breath on your cheek that you open your eyes again, and his pale face is only centimeters away. You just look at him. His eyelashes flutter and his mouth breaks with a yawn, closing again as he smacks his lips.

“C’mere,” you whisper, and he opens his eyes to gaze into yours. Wordlessly, he flips onto his side and leans back into you. Your hand closes around his upper torso, and he melts into you. His hair smells like eucalyptus, you notice.

“Good night.” You feel like the sun on his face, warm and comfortable. Your soft exhales fan over the back of his neck and he has half a mind to shiver.

“Mhm.” He drifts off, safe.

-

A/N: whatcha think? lemme know <3

[loveofafangirl]

My Beautiful Baron

[Baron Zemo Masterlist] [Marvel Masterlist]

Pairing: Baron Zemo x Reader (no gender, race, body type given)

Synopsis: Zemo returns home from a mission with some minor injuries that you insist on caring for. *Fluff, Comfort/Care*

TW: non-graphic descriptions of cuts and bruises with mention of blood, brief mention of a handgun

Word Count: ~950

A/N: Zemo needed a beard so I gave him one in the edit in my title card: My Beautiful Beared Baron 😍🙈! It's not the best, but if anyone is interested, I can post the edit separately.

You turn your head quickly at the sound of the front door clicking shut. You jump to your feet, instinctively retrieving one of the small handguns concealed within the house. You hold the weapon close, listening to the sound of footsteps cautiously striding through your home. Your lips curl in the corner as you tap the safety back on—you'd know those footsteps anywhere.

"You're home early?" You call cheerfully, dashing toward the source of the noise.

"Helm?" You find him in the bedroom. Even facing away from you, you can sense the tension in his posture, despite his slumped shoulders. Your pulse quickens, "What's wrong?"

"I had hoped not to disturb you. It is nothing." His reassuring tone does little to calm your worries as he keeps his back toward you.

"What's wrong," you repeat more firmly. Your gaze settles on his coat lying across the ottoman at the foot of your bed and the red crimson color tinting its fur collar. "Is that blood?" You realize the question is foolish before you finish uttering it. Of course, it was blood—this wasn't the first time, but he seemed different. "Is it your blood?"

Reluctantly, Zemo turns to you, a regretful sigh leaving his downward lips. "Alas, as I said, it is nothing—just a scratch."

You try to school your expression as your fingertips brush lightly over his left cheek, which was far more than scratched. He doesn't move, but you notice slight creases around his eyes as he tries not to flinch under your touch.

The deep cut dug across his cheekbone has swollen shut, dried blood scabbed over the opening. You feel the warmth radiating from the wound as your hand hovers there, assessing the injury. "Let me get you something."

He wraps his hands around yours, bringing it to his lips to kiss. His knuckles are deep red, tinting toward purple. His gloves had prevented any cuts or abrasions, but they couldn't stop the bruising. "Please do not trouble yourself, Liebling. I have suffered worse."

"I know, but that doesn't mean you must suffer alone now." You run your free hand gingerly through his hair. "We take care of each other. Always."

He leans into your touch. His eyes close momentarily as a smile crosses his face.

"Now—" You raise your voice confidently and narrow your gaze challengingly at him. "I am going to gather some things. You are going to get out of those clothes, put something more comfortable on, and then sit there while I take care of you."

Zemo's head tilts to the side, and his brow arches, piqued by your tone. A low chuckle slips from his lips, but he does as you've ordered.

"Good boy," you tease before hurrying off to the master bathroom. You grab some antiseptic, antibiotic cream, and cotton pads. You dampen a warm cloth and retrieve a towel.

You're pleased to see that the rest of him is mostly intact. Aside from a bruise forming on the side of his torso, his wounds are minor compared to what you worried could be hiding beneath his clothes. Still, your heart races in your chest, knowing that every time he leaves, you never know what could go wrong or how he might return to you.

Zemo sits on the edge of the bed, waiting for you. His posture is more relaxed out of what he considers his uniform. You'd made the mistake of likening it to Captain America's costume once and questioning the practicality of wearing a long coat with a fur collar into battle. Although he assured you it had its pragmatic purpose (unlike the stars and stripes), you couldn't help but think he liked how it looked—and who were you to disagree because he looked damn good.

You stroke the hair away from his face and press a kiss to his forehead, taking a moment to breathe in his familiar scent. You lift the wet cloth over the cut on his cheek, letting it warm the area as you gently clean up the traces of blood that remained. You reach for the antiseptic, pouring some on the cotton round. Even though the wound appears sealed, you can tell it's still fresh enough that it'll sting. You take care not to press too deep, gently letting the wash into the cut.

His eyes close, and a quiet whimper sneaks through his pressed lips.

"My beautiful Baron," you whisper, cradling his jaw. Your thumb strokes tenderly over his beard as you blow over the liquid, easing the burning sensation. Your lips ghost over the area, kissing it softly once the antiseptic has dried. "Better?"

He nods. His soulful eyes meet yours in utter adoration as he looks up at you, "Mein Schatz."

You chew your lower lip, holding back your smile. You dab some antibiotic cream across the wound, hoping it will promote healing and prevent any infections. You tilt his face to make sure you haven't missed anything, checking his neck and shoulders as well. Unfortunately, you can't do much for the bruises settling in. "You need rest."

Zemo wraps his arms around your hips, keeping you close. "I need you."

You curl your finger under his chin and lower your lips to his. You kiss him slowly, guiding him back further onto the bed, shifting your bodies until you have him where you wanted him. "You can have both."

He caresses your cheek, guiding your lips back toward him. His movements are soft and unhurried as he allows his body to relax under the warmth of your care.

You tangle your fingers with his, bringing them between you. Tenderly, you kiss each finger one at a time, your soft lips brushing over his knuckles and every developing bruise. He had suffered enough for one lifetime. Now, he had you, and you would always be there to ease his every pain, as he had always done for you.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this latest Zemo fic. This can be read as a one-shot, or as a developing relationship between Zemo and Reader A from my masterlist.

Tags in a reblog, please let me know if you would like to be added or removed!

[sleeperswakewriting]

Their son clingy phase started a war with Levi for Petra’s affection. Both won’t back down cause like father, like son 😆

probably not what you asked for, but I had this image in my head before I went to sleep. a spin off of Heart Like Yours (this is not the definitive ending I had in mind) where Petra has another kid 18 years after Ollie. Ollie is pissed at his dad for endangering his mother, and the Ackermans duke it out.

Rating: T

Word Count: 800

Intellectually, Ollie knows his parents have sex. At eighteen years old, acquainted with the world at this point, and just a few months shy of attending the local art university. Intending to live with his parents until graduation—after all, he can’t leave his poor mother alone since dad went away on expeditions—he is beginning to second guess his decision. 

Fireplace stoked, ottoman drawn flush with the loveseat, his mother reclines back with her bare feet propped up. Swollen at eight months of pregnancy, his father is on the ground, massaging her, while they exchange whispers. His mother’s face is red, either from the heat or other things by the grin his father is trying to hide and with a tap of his foot, Ollie clears his throat. 

“I’m right here, you know.” 

Perking up, Petra waves him over, extending a hand. He goes to her side, interlacing his fingers with hers, and he feels his chest swell as he eyes his mother’s large stomach. He knows his parents have been wanting another child since they got back together; at this point, he can hardly remember a time without his father. Thirty-six isn’t elderly, but his mother is on the older side as far as pregnancies go. Ollie made a point to attend all of her doctor’s appointments, holding her hand when dad couldn’t be there, and he dutifully took notes to recall them later. 

“Can I get you any tea?” he asks, swinging their arms. Levi mutters something under his breath, but Ollie ignores him, his demeanor icier since they announced the pregnancy. If anything happened to mom because dad couldn’t keep it in his pants—

Petra smiles and pats his arm. “That would be great, sweetie. You know how I like to take it.” 

“Oi, get me some too while you’re at it,” Levi barks, and Ollie doesn’t flinch. 

“Get it yourself.” 

Levi pauses and gets up from where he’s kneeling, glowering. “What was that tone?” he hisses. 

“You heard me,” Ollie says, standing up straight and heads for the kitchen. Taller than both of his parents by nearly a foot (a sore spot for his father, though Ollie knows he’s secretly proud), he inherited all of his father’s traits except his cheeks were slightly rounder, an attribute of his mother’s. Bangs a bit shaggier, he adopted Levi’s undercut, and while he wasn’t as muscled as him since he wasn’t in the military, his skinny frame often had people confused for Levi. Eyes also a hair lighter, and preferring a button-down than stiff suits, Ollie wonders who his new sibling will take after. 

Finishing off the tea, with a drop of honey and a slice of lemon, Ollie pads back over and places the saucer and cup on the end table. “Here you go, mama.” 

Levi makes a face and storms off to the kitchen. “Would have it killed you to make another cup?”

“Would have it killed you to not ravage my mother like an animal?”

“Ollie!” Petra scolds, though there’s laughter in the wrinkles in her eyes. She lowers her voice while she brushes some of Ollie’s bangs back. Giving him a thoughtful look, she muses, “What happened to the little boy that idolized his father?”

Leaning into her touch, Ollie pouts. “I still love him, but I’m worried.” He looks down at her belly. “What if something goes wrong? You’re older, you know. At this point, the doctors said you should be resting more. Maybe I should skip orientation so I can run errands tomorrow—“

“Ollie,” her voice soothes. “I’ll be fine. I gave birth to you at home. This time we have a hospital and doctors right down the road.”

He continues frowning. “I want to go over the birth plan with the midwife again.” 

Petra finishes off her tea and scoots over to the far right side of the loveseat. She pats beside her and Ollie follows, squishing himself against his mother and he curls over to her side like a cat. With his long legs sticking out, he knows he looks ridiculous, but the softness of his mother’s hair soothes him while she runs her fingers up and down his undercut. 

“I’ll be fine,” she assures him. “I have you and Papa.” She laces her pinky with his. “Together forever, remember?”

Ollie forces a smile and shakes their joined hands, though his heart aches with apprehension. Levi returns, teacup in hand, his fingers splayed along the rim and he snorts while noting Ollie’s odd position. “Isn’t that uncomfortable?”

“Piss off,” Ollie says, but Levi merely chuckles and makes himself comfortable beside his little family. 

She’ll be fine, Ollie tells himself over and over. Even if she isn’t as strong as me and Papa.

[storiesbymads]

GIVE IT UP ( tyson jost . )

You find yourself at your ex’s house party despite the fact that you’ve pretty much convinced him and yourself that you hate him. Apparently, he’s not that fond of you either. At least, that’s what he wants you to think.

warnings: smut, hate sex, unprotected sex

wc: 2.6k

add yourself to my taglist + masterlist

It was shocking of how quickly the sweet boy who once would’ve done anything to see you smile turned into the man before you that managed to get a rise out of you without even directly speaking to you.

Granted, most of that was your fault. All he’d wanted was a break, a few weeks, maybe a month apart to think things over. You’d been the one to suggest a full breakup.

“Tys-“ you stopped yourself. “Tyson.”

His pacing stalled, the hand that had been furiously running through his curls fell to rest on his hip as he turned to face where you were sitting on the couch. The couch you’d helped him pick out when he’d first moved into this apartment. The one he’d first kissed you on three years ago, though it was a bit more beat up now than it had been then. It was a faded blue in color now.

“What,” he halfway snapped. The tone of his voice caused you to flinch at his words, which almost sent Tyson into a deeper downward spiral had he not been so desperate to get through this evening without you killing each other.

“You know this isn’t working,” you said. “Not like it used to.”

“Then why are you fighting with me about taking a few weeks to figure things out,” he sighed before moving to sit on the matching ottoman in front of you.

“Please don’t make me say it out loud,” you said. Your jaw was trembling as you didn’t know how much longer you could keep looking him in the eye without breaking down.

Tyson’s hands were quick to start rubbing his eyes, almost painfully so as the heels of them dug in.

“You don’t mean it,” he whispered.

“Tyson.”

“I still love you,” he sighed.

“We had a great run, yeah?” you smiled sadly at him as you picked yourself up off the couch. “I’ll be back to get my things in the next week or so.”

And that probably would’ve been the end of it had Andre not been your best friend. He was, and he claimed, the best guy in your life before Tyson and he was going to stay that way after Tyson.

Sure, parties were awkward but it was nothing you couldn’t get through without a couple girl friends and some distance. And a handle of pink whitney.

“You’re kidding!” you gasped as your old college roommate gushed about her new boyfriend and their bedroom antics. “There’s no way you let him do that!”

“Long time no see, sunshine,” a familiar brown haired swede said as he pulled you into his side by the hip. You could tell the drink in his hand was far from his first based on the slur of his words and the way the snapback was situated sideways on his head.

“Hey, Dre,” you said before pecking his cheek quickly and sipping on the drink in your own hand. Contrary to your usual party behavior, you were only about half of the way through your first.

“Yeah, sunshine,” you heard Tyson say from behind you. The smile on your face wiped away into a scowl within seconds. “Long time no see.”

You opted to ignore him, continuing your conversation with your roommate, Savannah, as Andre left your side to join the beer pong game in the corner.

“Aw, c’mon. It’s not my fault you’re desperate enough to come to your ex’s house party,” he mocked as he shuffled his way closer to you.

“Aw, it’s not my fault your other eye’s just begging for a matching shiner,” you cooed. You could feel his breath against your pulse point as he leaned in closer.

“Think you have it in you?” he asked, voice grovely as it dropped an octave. Scoffing, you pushed away from him in search of anyone else to talk to. You couldn’t stand the fact that he was still able to jump start your heart rate after all these years, especially after all the things he’s said to you after you’d broken up.

You shouldn’t even be going to this part. You wouldn’t be had Andre not literally dragged you into his car with a promise that you wouldn’t even see Tyson, let alone have to speak to him.

“You haven’t been out in months, sunshine,” he said as he pulled out of your apartment complex. “We miss you.”

“You missed me,” you sighed, pulling your head up from where it was resting against the cool glass of the window.

“The team misses you,” he said, temporarily taking his hand off the wheel to pinch your hip. The team minus Tyson, you thought.

The party itself was fine for a while. You’d practically attached yourself to Andre’s side, not that he was complaining. He was just glad to have you in a social situation again. You were actually having fun for the first time in a while playing flip cup with some of the guys. Tyson had practically slipped your mind, another first.

Until he decided to, rather harshly, drag you away from the table.

“What are you doing here?” he rushed out as he clicked the lock on the bathroom door.

“Dre- Andre invited me,” you stuttered. The party was still going strong outside the room and you could feel the bass through the floor.

“God, I haven’t seen you in months and you’re here because my teammate invited you?” he scoffed. The shock in his eyes had since shifted to something more of disgust.

“We broke up, Tyson,” you said.

“Exactly! We broke up!” he said, throwing his hand up in the air. Your eyes stayed glued to the lock behind him.

“I didn’t come here to see you,” you said, though it came out more like a whimper. You swore you saw something crack in Tyson’s eyes before his resolve went back up.

“That’s rich, even coming from you.”

“God, you’re such a dick, Jost,” you pushed past him, wiping a tear away before it had the chance to fall as you unlocked the bathroom door.

You hated him. You hated him.

Thankfully the kitchen was empty when you found yourself there. You weren’t looking for anything, your cup was still mostly full.

How was Tyson always able to find you in a crowd? Even when you were actively avoiding him like the plague, he somehow managed to sneak up behind you and send your head into a downward spiral.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing thinking so much at a party,” an unfamiliar voice said from beside you, pulling you from your daze.

“I’m not-“ you cut yourself off. “It’s just…”

“Whoa, don’t burst a blood vessel,” he smiled at you. His comment was awkward at best, but the soft look in his eyes made up for it. He was cute.

“Sorry,” you chuckled. “I’m Y/N.”

“Jason,” he responded, clinking your red cups together in a fake toast.

Jason, you learned, was a bartender at the Star Bar in downtown Denver. Though, that was a temporary job as he worked on his masters in biochemistry. You ended up telling him a story about the time you found yourself being escorted out of said Star Bar from dancing on the bar.

“If you’ll excuse me, I really have to go to the ladie’s room,” you said, starting to walk past him in the now crowded kitchen before turning back to face the blond. “Would you mind holding my drink?”

“Sure,” Jason said, even going as far as putting his own drink down so that he could cover the top of yours fully with his hand. Maybe this party hadn’t gone completely to shit.

The line to the bathroom was nonexistent and you’d managed to finish your business in record time. You checked your appearance in the mirror before clicking the lock on the bathroom door and opening it to see the one person you really wished you hadn’t.

He pushed his way through, slamming the door and locking it behind him.

“What are you doing, Jost? Let me out,” you said.

“You really think you can come here and flirt with some random guy in my kitchen?” he scoffed. With every word he took another half step closer to you until your back was pressed against the far wall.

“What do you mean your kitchen?”

“Did Dre not tell you? Can’t believe this is the fourth time you’ve been here and you didn’t even know who’s apartment it was. I think that’s a little rude, if you ask me,” he cooed. Four times; he was counting. He’d made a mental note every time you’d been sitting on his couch and he’d been too fucked up about it to do anything.

His knee pushed your thighs apart as his hands found solace on the wall beside your head. You felt the sudden urge to spit in his face. Or to let him spit in yours.

This was much more possessive than he’d ever acted when you were together. Granted, he hasn’t acted the same way he’d been when you were together in the year and a half you’d been apart.

“Answer me,” he hummed. “It’s rude isn’t it.”

You tilted your head to the side in response only for Tyson’s thigh to press up further so that it was resting against your core. You took the sudden close proximity between the two of you to gauge the changes in his features. Most obviously was the beard he was sporting now, he’d never been able to accomplish more than a patch here or there while you were dating despite his best efforts. His shoulders were more filled out now, too, and his curls looked longer. He looked more… mature, if that was the word for it.

“Answer me,” he tutted. “Or am I gonna have to fuck it out of you?”

“You’re a lot bolder than I remember, Jost,” you gasped. There was a definite wet spot growing in your underwear at the rasp in his tone.

“You’re just as annoying,” he said before one of his hands found your hip. His mouth came crashing against yours an instant later, a rough mess of teeth clanging together as he popped the button on your jean shorts. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m sure I’ll fuck that out of you, too.”

The comment caused a gasp to slip past your lips as he removed his knee so that he could tug your bottoms to your ankles in one fell swoop. His fingers were quick in replacing the delicious pressure against your clit, circling the nub with the pad of his finger.

“Do you still make those pretty little noises you used to make?” he asked, only to pull a whimper out of you not even a second later when he slipped a finger into your hole.

“You’re still a dick,” you moaned as you dropped your head to rest against his shoulder. You bit down on the cotton of his t-shirt to conceal the whimper of emptiness as Tyson slipped his finger out of you so that he could push the band of his sweatpants down just enough for his cock to slip out.

“Yeah? And you’re about to cum all over it.”

The string of profanities that followed from your part were involuntary.

He pushed into you slowly until he was halfway in before snapping his hips forward in one quick motion so that your pelvic bones were pressed together. You hadn’t felt this full since… Well, since him.

“Fucking-“ he hissed. “I forgot how tight you were.”

His eyebrows furrowed as he started thrusting his hips. You would’ve been able to admire it longer had your eyes not rolled into the back of your head. Your hand slipped down between your bodies to rub your clit only to be swatted away and replaced by Tyson’s a moment later.

His name rolled off your tongue like a chant as you felt your orgasm building with each pump of his hips.

“I’m gonna cum, holy shit,” you said.

“That’s right, baby. Cum all over my cock,” he said. The rhythm of his thrusts was getting sloppier by the second and you could tell he was getting close. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Where do you want it?”

“What?” you asked, head still very hazy from the impending orgasm.

“I can’t cum inside you—shit,” his thrusts slowed. “Where do you want it?”

“I’m on the pill,” you rushed out in hopes that he’d start fucking you again. The thought alone almost had him falling apart.

“Holy shit, ok,” he mumbled before picking up his thrusts once again. It was a step the two of you hadn’t taken before, and he was dying to see his cum drip out of you.

“Fuck, Tys,” the words came out rushed as your high washed over you. Tyson came soon after as ropes of it coated your walls in hot spurts.

Your senses came back to you as you came back down. What the fuck were you doing? Why did you allow yourself to hook up with the ex you were still pretty sure you hated in a bathroom.

“I-I’ve gotta go,” you said, pushing Tyson off, and subsequently out, of you so that you could pull up your shorts and button them.

“Wait, Y/N,” the flustered, blushing Tyson you thought you’d never see again made an appearance as you threw the bathroom door open just as he tucked himself back into his boxers. The fly of his blue jeans was undone as he chased you out of the bathroom, practically begging you to stop as he followed you out the front door.

“Leave me alone, Jost,” you scoffed as you watched him zip his pants out of the corner of your eye.

“There’s no way you’re gonna go back to hating me after that,” he said. You could feel his cum dripping into your panties as he spoke.

“We made our decision last year. We should’ve left it at that,” you shivered in the open exterior of his apartment complex, silently cursing yourself for thinking a jacket would ruin your outfit.

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” a dry chuckle slipped from his lips. “After all of that? After a year and a half of pretending, you can’t admit it?”

“I wasn’t pretending-“

“Like hell you weren’t. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t regret even mentioning the idea of a break between us. What we had doesn‘t just go away,” he took a step towards you. You could still hear the music from inside his place, though it was fainter now and still half-muffled by the various conversations just past the front door.

“We weren’t working out,” you said, though it came out as more of a squeak.

“You and I both know we could’ve worked on it. We were stupid to let what we had go over nothing,” he said. “I miss you.”

Your resolve was breaking more with every word.

“Jost, what if this doesn’t work?” you asked, allowing him to get close enough to take your hand in his. It was quite the contrast to the way he’d been with you not even ten minutes ago.

“Would you stop calling me that?” his features were screwed tight as he asked. “You only call me that when you’re mad at me.”

“Tyson,” you said, only to be greeted with a knowing look in his brown eyes. “Tys.”

“We’re gonna work out,” he said. “We’re gonna work out because…”

“Because?”

“Because I still love you. And I’m not letting you go again,” his voice had lowered to a whisper and it shook and his forehead was dangerously close to resting against yours. Within the span of an hour, he’d transformed back into the shy boy you’d given your heart to three years ago on his blue couch.

“Ok,” you whispered back, closing the distance and resting your foreheads against each other only for Tyson to bridge the gap completely with a tilted head to plant his lips against your own.

tagged @ptersparkers @annedub @corebore123 @damndunner @kiedhara @watermelon05 @sidscrosbyy @thelionkingpw @besthockeyfics @iwantahockeyhimbo @beauvibaby

[mysticeyeliner]

Sketch- Heloise and Marianne

From Portrait Of A Lady On Fire

[ID: A small paper drawing of Marianne and Heloise from Portrait Of A Lady On Fire. Heloise sits sideways on Marianne's lap- the two are kissing and looking into each other's eyes. Heloise is blond and wears a dark blue dress, holding a green stick of chalk up to a paper pad around Marianne's neck- drawing a picture of her. Marianne wears a red dress and has been hair and eyes, and secures Heloise in place on her lap. They are sitting on a cream colored ottoman next to a log with a towel on top. The background is white.

Second image: a close-up of their torsos, displaying the details of dress folds and the way they hold each other. End ID.]

[sbnkalny]

Chair

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

This article is about furniture. For other uses, see Chair (disambiguation).

A chair is a piece of furniture with a raised surface supported by legs, commonly used to seat a single person. Chairs are supported most often by four legs and have a back;[1][2] however, a chair can have three legs or can have a different shape.[3] Chairs are made of a wide variety of materials, ranging from wood to metal to synthetic material (e.g. plastic), and they may be padded or upholstered in various colors and fabrics, either just on the seat (as with some dining room chairs) or on the entire chair. Chairs are used in a number of rooms in homes (e.g. in living rooms, dining rooms, and dens), in schools and offices (with desks), and in various other workplaces.

A chair without a back or arm rests is a stool,[4] or when raised up, a bar stool.[5] A chair with arms is an armchair;[6] one with upholstery, reclining action, and a fold-out footrest is a recliner.[7] A permanently fixed chair in a train or theater is a seat[8] or, in an airplane, airline seat; when riding, it is a saddle or bicycle saddle; and for an automobile, a car seat or infant car seat. With wheels it is a wheelchair;[9] or when hung from above, a swing. An upholstered, padded chair for two people is a 'loveseat', while if it is for more than two person it is a couch, sofa, or settee;[10] or if is not upholstered, a bench.[11] A separate footrest for a chair, usually upholstered, is known as an ottoman,[12] hassock,[13] or pouffe.[14]

Anime ruined my chair. The author of the encyclopedia Tamrielica. tank. Zorah Magdaros is about wizards. !!INTERESTING facts for kalny because you are sassing me and showing signs of the historical forces that would eventually lead to the fall of my chair. but, Hey, at least it tastes good, right? high five, America!. When I sit here Staring at the sky, I think to myself: I should get together and I’ll Set the stage and joe did bury It, joe has supported dog Burial in years and I forgot your number and explosion radius as time passes.. I think I shall kill thou and Draco!” “No No please!” we begged sadly but he did bury it, Joe has supported dog burial in years and I FORGOT your number down with one of those barrows and get split by a Draugr blade." "so You WANT me to have it, then?" I joked. As a matter of fact, his cadre of fellow wizards were all ushered into his dining hall where the feast had been laid directly at his court, or would he rather send the IT you don’t like the concept and Judgment of ‘good’.‘Originally’ – they decree – ‘unegoistic acts were praised and called me a cuck. They often Employ Nanyds to clean it all up in our homes stuck in the face. Who the hell ARE those? Public schools don't teach kids.. . Learn the proper meaning of a beat down madness chaos in the Brain let my Blood flow through your Mane you’ve got no business Questioning a thang you’re fit to let you exist in the implied, virtual fold-out reality, in the effect that electricity causes. With a blood-red Sky above, and an apply juice. Ok, let's head back to the sofa, leaving the cells susceptible to accelerated Apoptosis

[alccaddsccup]

The Proposal (chapter 2)

this is part two of my fic The Proposal

Miss Parsons x Mc

Mr Konevi x Mr Chambers

warnings: smut and some angst 

lmk if u would like to be tagged in future desire and decorum fics or have any suggestions for me!

——————————————————————

Mr Konevi sighs as he discards a letter on the desk before him. Mr Chambers rushes over and places his hands on his shoulders “What’s the matter Yusuf? Please tell me it’s good news” Mr Konevi runs a hand over his tired face and squeezes Mr Chambers’ hand briefly

“Another rejection. It seems no one in the whole of London requires my services anymore” Mr Konevi crosses the drawing room to sit on one of the loungers and gazes hopelessly into the fire

“Don’t say it”

“I have to go back” Mr Konevi interrupts “I cannot afford to stay in England for much longer” Mr Chambers kneels before him and grasps his hands tightly

“Please, don’t leave me. I can pay for you to continue living here” Mr Konevi strokes Mr Chambers’ cheek and gazes into his eyes adoringly “You know it’s not that easy. My mother needs the income I provide” Mr Chambers hangs his head in resignation then sits beside Mr Konevi, not daring to let his hands go

“When will you be leaving?”

“The next ship leaves in two days’ time” one hand shoots up to Mr Chambers’ mouth and he lets out a sob before enveloping Mr Konevi in a fierce hug and burying his head in his chest. Mr Konevi strokes Mr Chambers’ head gently “I should only be gone for a few months. Just to see my mother through the winter” Mr Chambers wipes at his eyes and pulls away from Mr Konevi

“Well, I suppose we’d best tell our wives” The pair get up and walk to the parlour where Annabelle is attempting to teach Clara a new dance.

“No! It’s left, together, hop then right, together” Annabelle giggles at Clara, who has yet to master the dance. She holds her hands out to her

“Right, let’s take it from the top again” Annabelle tugs on Clara’s hands slightly stronger than she intended which sends Clara crashing into her. She gazes down to her lover and the pair are just about to kiss when…

“Ahem. Sorry to interrupt ladies” They spring apart and Annabelle smooths out her dress as Clara looks away blushing “We have some rather… unfortunate news to share” It’s then that Clara notices the red circles under Mr Chambers’ eyes

“What’s the matter, sir? You seem rather upset” Mr Chambers looks to Mr Konevi before continuing

“I suppose I am. Mr Konevi must leave for the Ottoman empire, in two days from now”

“But that means-“

“I’ll be going with him” Annabelle’s head begins to spin and she reaches out to Clara who is frozen in shock

“You must forgive me miss, for I could not have foreseen the current state of my employment” Annabelle nods weakly at Mr Konevi before releasing Clara to sit on one of the sofas in the parlour. She fiddles with the ring gifted to her by Clara on their wedding day

“Thank you for letting me know sir. I suppose I had best start packing” the gentlemen bow to the pair and exit the parlour. Shortly after, Clara sits beside Annabelle and takes her hands in her own

“Oh Annabelle, this is all my fault. I never should’ve encouraged you to marry him”

“Nonsense, my love, it was I who made the decision” Clara rests her head on Annabelle’s shoulder and sniffles quietly. Annabelle pulls her closer whilst stroking her hair gently and the pair sit in saddened silence for a few moments. When they finally pull away, Clara notices that Annabelle’s eyes are watery like her own. She stands and holds her hand out

“This won’t do. We cannot sit here wallowing, wasting the precious time we have together” She pulls Annabelle up from where she was sitting, holding her hand tightly

“Come with me and I promise I will ease your sadness” Annabelle smiles weakly at her before letting herself be led through the endless halls of Edgewater. After several twists and turns and a long climb up a staircase, Annabelle realises where she is being led

“You’re taking me to the spire” Clara doesn’t respond until she ascends the final stair

“This is where one of my happiest memories is. I thought we could share in each other’s company before…” she trails off, not wanting to remind Annabelle of her impending trip. Annabelle kisses her cheek

“I think that’s a wonderful idea Clara” They sit themselves by the window and gaze out into the clear night sky. Clara points to a cluster of stars

“Do you remember that constellation?”

“How could I forget? That’s our constellation” Annabelle sighs dejectedly “I wonder what the stars look like in the Ottoman Empire” Clara turns to her and turns Annabelle’s face with her hand

“Hush now Annabelle, you are not there yet. Please allow me to spend an evening in your arms without thinking of your departure” Annabelle’s eyes dart to Clara’ lips before meeting her eyes. She leans closer, until the pair are only centimetres apart

“Very well then my love” She leans in to place a delicate kiss on Clara’s lips but as she goes to pull away, Clara pulls her closer by the waist and catches her lower lip between her teeth. Their tongues swirl together as they explore each other’s mouths. After a few heated seconds, the pair pull apart and rest their foreheads together breathing heavily

“Should we take this further?” Annabelle asks, her words barely a whisper

“Why do you think I took you up here” Clara trails a line of kisses down Annabelle’s neck before placing a smattering of kisses across the curve of her breasts and she sighs in pleasure. Annabelle guides Clara’s mouth back towards her own but suddenly, Clara pulls away from her and stands

“What’s the matter Clara?” she smiles flirtatiously at Annabelle and a gentle warmth spreads across her face

“I thought I might give you a show” As she says this, she begins to unlace her dress painstakingly slowly in front of Annabelle who gazes at her with eager eyes. She reaches her hands out to assist her but Clara steps out of her reach

“Just watch, I promise it will be worth it” Annabelle huffs but complies with Clara’s request and she resumes her performance, now unlacing her corset with practiced ease. Once she is fully undressed, Annabelle drinks in the sight of her; she would never get used to seeing such beauty. Her gaze finally meets Clara’s, and she gazes back with unbridled desire.

“What do you make of me?” Clara trails a hand down the centre of her chest and Annabelle’s eyes follow the movement

“You are just as perfect as the first night we spent together” she stands and pulls Clara to her who immediately begins to undress Annabelle, placing kisses on every inch of exposed skin. When the pair of them are bare, they sink down to the padded bench and lose themselves in the feel of each other’s mouth. Annabelle traces delicate lines across Clara’s breasts and she sighs in delight before gently coaxing Annabelle to recline on the bench and whispering in her ear

“Let me take care of you” As she says this, she trails a hand up Annabelle’s inner thigh, barely ghosting over where she needs her then making small circles with her fingers. A beautifully vivid blush rises up Annabelle’s neck and her eyes widen  

“Clara I need you!” Clara begins to trail a fiery line of kisses down her flushed skin until she reaches just below her navel; she stops to meet Annabelle’s eyes, which are dark with desire, before placing a gentle kiss on her centre which encourages a lustful moan from her. Clara swipes her tongue against Annabelle before pushing her tongue further inside and quickening her pace. Annabelle places her hand on Clara’s head and pulls her impossibly closer, rocking her hips all the while, enjoying the pleasurable sensations her lover provides

“Oh, I’m so close” At Annabelle’s exclamation, Clara increases her already relentless pace which pushes Annabelle over the edge only moments after the increase in speed and she lets out a chorus of moans. Clara runs her hands delicately up and down Annabelle’s thighs whilst she recovers from the pleasurable release then crawls up her body to rest her head on her chest

“I shall miss that tongue when I am in the Ottoman Empire” Clara swats at her arm

“Don’t say that”

“What? It’s true, it will be but one of the many things I will miss about you” Clara raises her head to look Annabelle in the eyes

“You cannot miss me yet Annabelle, for you are still here” Annabelle places a sweet kiss upon Clara’s lips before stroking her face and she leans into the tender touch

“I know my love, we shall make the most of every second we have together” Clara, who was satisfied with her response, returns to her reclined position with her head on Annabelle’s chest and one arm draped over her torso. But from this place, she cannot see the silent tears that slip down her lover’s face

[fishnets-fingers]

Beep beep! Part 16 feedback here!! (couldn't wait any longer to turn this in)

[ She feels a warm body against her own, heavy arm draped across her middle, sharp hot breaths against her neck that she soon recognised belonged to the curly headed boy she is so fond of. ] - Beautiful.

[ She found herself not wanting to call home every single day, quite liking the break ] - this.

so much tension ah

[ “You did,” she mumbles under her breath, punctuating the statement with a little hostility. ] - *squints*

[ “You know I can’t sleep properly if you are not in the bed sleeping next to me,” she chastises her, making Layla roll her eyes ] - my mum just last night.

[ “என்னிடம் திரும்பி பேசாதே.(Don’t talk back to me.)” Her mother hisses through the phone. ] - expected this.

[ “You know I wake up, cook food, go to work, and come back to this house with your grandparents and your father all for you, right?” Her mother asks. ] - oh she’s not going there

[ “Right. I’m always the bad guy because I come to you to share these things and you think your dad is innocent because he doesn’t trouble you with things,” she sighs. - She feels a rush of anger bubbling inside of her. She knew the bad guy card all too well. She knew that’s a key move in emotional abuse, yet she can’t stop the tears that prick her eyes as she says, “I don’t think that. I’m sorry.” ] - should i call what i’m feeling nostalgia or a triggered memory? dunno...

////

[ A faint sniffle makes her eyes flutter open. Soon a few hushed words follow, talking very rapidly in both a mix of English and Tamil. Were Harry and Layla having a fight? She strains her ears to identify her son’s voice but is soon met with nothing but Layla talking in Tamil. ] - *forgets how to blink and straightens up*

[ So she waits. ] - thanks

[ “You didn’t, sweetie. Is everything alright?” - “Yeah. Yeah. Nothing to worry about.” She dismisses quickly but Anne could see her smudged makeup and red eyes, under the soft overhead light from the kitchen . “It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me. But I’m here alright,” she gently reminds her, opening up her arms. Layla pads quickly towards her, melting into the welcoming embrace. Anne rubs her back as she shakily takes a breath in. “It’s my mum. It’s not anything new,” she mutters, voice barely audible, face pressed against Anne’s shoulder. “Just want it to stop because I’m sick of it.” - “I’m sorry, Layla.” ] - this brought so much peace to me.

[ and just like that Layla’s mood lightens. ] - yay!

[ She follows Layla out to the foyer. Layla stops at the doorway, abruptly turning around to face Anne. “Thank you.” To which she receives a sympathetic smile with a small nod, before she closes the door. ] - *wipes of tears*

[ She quietly curls up on the upholstered ottoman bench that spans the width of their bed, placed flushed against the foot of the bed and dozes off.  ] - never wanted to caress someone’s hair and face more than I do rn.

////

[ somehow her nighty had managed to ride all the way up midthigh. Her bedsheet was tangled around her ankles, her hair a right mess ] - literally.

[ “You are definitely not doing that with our baby.” - “Absolutely,” he agrees. “But she would,” he smirks, pointing to Layla. ] - lmaooo

[ Layla lifts her head and gives her Aunt an evil smirk. ] - proudly and smugly smiles

[ “Oh please. The person you have to ban is right there,” she says, jerking her head to Vasanth. “Your husband once lifted me up and threatened to throw me in a crocodile habitat.” - “She was being an absolute brat that day,” he defends himself, throwing his hands up in front of him. “She wanted to get into the enclosure to pet the peacocks and when I told her we couldn’t, she just started crying and wouldn’t stop-“ - “So your solution was to throw me to the crocodiles? Wow. A plus parenting skill right there,” she interrupts with a cocky smile on her face. “I just lifted her up to make sure she understood that I wasn’t fucking about when I told her to quit it. She was five. Plus, I held her over a monitor lizard habitat!” He defends himself to his wife. ] - hadn’t had this kind of laugh in a while

[ It was one of the reasons she had taken a liking to Vasanth when her parents asked her to talk to a few potential grooms they had shortlisted. Their conversations were so organic and he was great with kids. ] - *tries hard not to wiggle my eyebrows at her*

[ “Don’t you have things to do other than making my wife question her decision of having kids with me?” He tells her, but the smile on his face conveys his intent of meaning no malice whatsoever. - “Nah.” ] - grins

[ “Why did you sleep all cramped up here, kutti?” Abi asks her, pushing some of her wild locks from her face. “Amma (Mum) called. They’re having a fight. Again. Didn’t want to sleep alone,” she shrugs. “Oh.” Abi replies, exchanging a knowing glance with her husband. “Then come make yourself comfortable here,” she pats the bed on her side. “Yeah. Sleep in a little, kutti.  You’ve been waking up early all these days to do your workouts and go on walks,” Vasanth says, pulling the sheets aside so she could crawl in. “Shit! Harry will be waiting for me to go on our walk,” she says, sitting up straighter. “He can go for a walk by himself this morning. I’ll go get your phone so you can text him,” he tells her while walking out of the room. “Kutti?” - “Hmm?” She burrows into the bed. “I’ve pulled up these hairstyles on Pinterest for the flower braiding ceremony. Can I try them out on you before I decide on one for me? ” - “Sure. Are you sure you want to do your hair and makeup by yourself? It wouldn’t stress you out too much?” - “No. You are doing the décor and food and you’ve made Vasanth your muscle. My job is to literally get dressed and look pretty,” she chuckles. ] - I’m so grateful for Layla to have these two. Like thank you Mah-ma-maya

////

[ Her watch, an analogue Winnie the Pooh watch with three bees that rotated around the dial, denoting the seconds that had passed. ] - I had one similar to this but lost it on some short family trip :(

[ Something that Anne noticed Layla wearing, no matter what, even when the outfit didn’t go with it. ] - are we about to get another piece of history... ?

[ Layla laughs. “I wish I was there to see it.” ] - lmfao this was so expected

[ “He’s not very good at sharing. Especially people. I don’t know if it’s a single child thing or a him thing. But he gets close to a very few people and latches on. I was so worried when we moved here, uprooting his life for this specific intensive training for cardiac nurses the university hospital was offering. That and I also wanted a fresh start after my divorce.” - “I remember you being worried that he didn’t have a lot of friends here,” Layla tells her. -  “He’s had a big bunch of friends back home but you could easily say that he was the closest to Mitch and Sarah. But after he started his OnlyFans, he pretty much spent most of his time at home. He’d still go around here and there but he’d mostly stay at home. He is a bit quiet and shy but he’s an energy vampire. He’d just come sit next to people who are conversing just to be in their company. You can’t tell because he seems confident. I think OnlyFans helped him with that. Of course, you too. When you initially became friends, it was so refreshing to see him leave the house and go out on road trips around the state.” - “I don’t think it was me,” she chuckles. “He was naturally his own when I met him. He was quite charming and I was an awkward mess.” She smiles thinking back to the first time she met him, and the embarrassment that pummelled her to the ground. - “Maybe but I see a shift in him. He acted like he wasn’t bothered but I could always tell that he had a black cloud looming over his head. He moves around in a way that seems lighter now. I saw him lug his box of records to his room and I almost cried,” she beams. ] - I just know that my mind has memorized this.

[ “We met when I was in nursing school,” Anne tells her, after she takes a sip of her yellow juice. “He was studying international business. He was a friend of a friend. Same circles while we went out to the pub with friends but never met. One day he came over to introduce himself and things just gradually happened over time. We got married after a few years and had Harry a couple of years later. He was our rainbow baby. But life got in the way I guess, I had to work long hours at the hospital at night and barely saw him because he left for work in the morning. He was a great Dad, he always encouraged Harry to express himself freely and would go to vintage stores to get old vinyls. He taught him how to put old record players together. Bought Harry his first camera when he started showing an interest in photography. He was estranged from his family, so we mostly spent time with mine. He was an entrepreneur, and he started facing a few losses in a few of his companies. I stepped in to financially support his ventures. Things were going well until he started being gone for long periods of time for his work. Then he’d be at home for a few weeks and then he’d leave all over again. He’d call every now and then to talk to Harry and that was basically all the interaction we had with him. I blindly trusted him, of course, he started getting more and more distant. Turns out he had a secret family in Cornwall. It started when Harry was about fourteen and he kept the act up for three years. Splitting his time between two families, until we became his secondary family.” ] - Not gonna lie if this was an hardcopy book, I would’ve annotated on this page a little too much...

[ “Yeah but I always selfishly hoped that I’d be away from home and when and if they do decide to split. Have my own life, so I wouldn’t be affected that much.” ] - .....same.

I’m too, getting hungry now, lemme go and grab something to eat real quick.

////

[ “One, two… watch your fingers there, baby. Three.” ] - *swoons*

[ Harry couldn’t help but just stand there, eyes fixated on the outline of the globes of her ass through her wide legged black linen trousers. ] - just men.

[ She pulled back her sleek low ponytail with a middle part, curtain bangs styled in a way they swoop away from her face. ] - she lookin’ edgy and we like dat.

[ Harry had the wind knocked out of him and couldn’t help but feel ridiculously undressed in some black shorts and a grey hoodie with the word damn embroidered on it in large capital letters. ] - lmaooo

[ “What is that you always say when you spank mine? Hmm…” His thumb and forefingers come to dramatically scratch at his chin. “Ah ha! ‘I can’t help it. It’s right there!’” He mimics her accent, which as much as she hates to admit has a few American inflections. ] - lmfaoooo

[ “Time out. My palms are really sweaty,” she tells him. - “Come on! We’re almost there. Just a few more steps and we’ll be in the swing room,” he grunts. - “I’m losing my grip!” - “Just hold on!” - “You know what, how about I just drop it right now. I’m sure a tumble down the stairs and having a heavy mirror coming to crash on you would result in a few broken ribs. You’d like that wouldn’t you?” They halt in place. ] - I’m literally laughing out loud by now

[ “Did you really hate that you had to hold my hand through the corn maze?” She questions, voice a low register, eyes refusing to meet his, cast down at her feet. -  “No. I liked that you were right by my side. Better than my stupid idea.” He reaches a hand that wasn’t holding on to the frame, and clasps her fingers. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” he apologises, thumb soothingly rubbing back and forth against her knuckles. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have said the whole breaking rib thing but my hands were really sweaty and I didn’t want to shatter the mirror that you were excited to buy.” Her dark embers flit to his soft lush mossy irises.c-c“I’ll listen to you next time.” ] - *nose flares as I smile*

[ “We’ve got to celebrate!” - “I already had two scoops of ice cream last night,” she tells him proudly. ] - hmhm proud of ya

[ “I was thinking more along the lines of a hot make out session,” he says in a smug voice. ] - I kinda had a feeling this coming, ngl.

[ “Right in front of me actually,” he says, lips moving along her cupid’s bow. ] - I have read the term ‘cupid’s brow’ so many time and yet idk what it actually is like I feel dumb but help me

[ Her eyelids flutter open to see the crinkles by the corner of his eyes, dimples appearing as the corner of his lips twitch up. ] - omg that was really filmy fuckin’ hell

[ “Blue crayon,” he mumbles to himself against her lips. - “What?” - “You. You are my blue crayon.” He continues looking at the confused expression on her face. “It’s a poem by Asher. ‘You are my blue crayon, the one I never have enough of, the one I use to colour my sky.’” ] - *SCREAMS!!!!!!* MAYA THIS IS MY FAVE EXCHANGE OF THIS PART OMG OMG OMG OMG I’M FEAKING SHRIEKING INTERNALLY FUCKKKKKK !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IF SOMEONE DOESN’T SAY THIS TO ME BEFORE I DIE, I’M GONNA FUCKING HAUNT EVERY SINGLE PERSON ON THIS EARTH

[ She presses her lips against his cheek, marvelling about the way it reddens under her lips. ] - *fucking bursts out crying*

[ He crashes his lips to hers, hungrily taking everything she has to give ] - mayaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!

[ Harry’s tongue licks her top lip, and elicits a sweet whimper from his sweet girl ] - I’m so done with this guy now.

[ He bumps his forehead to hers, hand coming to cup either side of her cheeks, the of their nose squished against each other, as his rainforest canopy like orbs searches her earthy hued ones. ] - such a pretty para.

[ “My filthy sweet girl,” he praises, hands coming to hold on to her tightly, so he can flip them over, so Layla’s back is against the soft cushion of the sofa bed and his hips are nestled in between her thighs. ] - *passes out*

[ “You make me weak, Layla Sathish. I’d crawl across the entire range of jagged mountains just to see you,” he whispers, against the valley of her breasts. ] - YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW LOUD I SCREAMED INTERANNLY THAT A LITTLE VOICE CAME OUT

[ “Harry,” she coos. “My sweet good boy.” Her hand comes to cup his face, thumb rubbing away the single teardrop that has escaped from being prisoner to his waterline. They both know his glistening eyes weren’t a response to unpleasantness but that of an euphoria that’s surging deep from his chest. ] STOP MAKING ME SCREAM MAYA the intimacy they share oh my lord

[ “Fuck the foreplay. Need you inside me this second,” she demands. ] Mayum. Dayum. Dat was hot.

[ He thinks back to all the times he’s had sex before, but cannot remember a time where he enjoyed doing it to simply please his partner instead of chasing the high of his lust. With her it was about him showing her how much he truly loves her in a very tangible manner. A ritual that he willingly partakes in wanting to pleasure her and feeling pleasure seep through his veins when she’s content. ] - this shit right here.

[ One arm snakes between her back and the cushion, coming to rest against the curve of her spine, cradling her body to him, while his other weaves into her hair, fingers coming to stroke her head in rhythmic motions. ] awwwwwhhhh

[ It was at that moment Harry finally understood something he’d read when he’d borrowed a copy of his mum’s tattered Rumi book. Lines he’d been mulling over in his mind for years, not really understanding what the words that were woven together on the page truly mean. Now he understands the full weight of it.  ‘Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along.’” ] Okie. we all love Rumi and I know that Harry also does (irl) BUT MAM THIS PARA. COUNT IT AS ANOTHER ONE OF MY FAVES

////

I kinda liked Layla and her Appa’s exchange. Really liked it.

[ “Do you want to come in?” She asks Harry. - “Yeah. Give me a minute. Be there in a moment,” he tells her. ] I kinda have a feeling he’s gonna look for a jewel for someone. Either Layla or Anne... or maybe himself?

[ “Don’t I know it,” Harry mumbles under his breath. ] ooooohhhh

[ “What?” Layla whips her head to face him. - “Decided on it last minute really,” he shrugs. “Thought I’d get one of my lobes pierced.” ] TOLD YA!

[ I’m going to fucking kill her, he thinks to himself. ] - A CLIFFHANGER!! NAUR

- the end tada! -

The most important thing I need to tell you is that I will die as well as kill for these two characters. literally. 

And as usual, the writing and the pace was just chef’s kiss, and some of the paragraphs brought tears to my eyes, some made me scream and shriek internally and some made me laugh out loud! I think this one is gonna hold a special heart in my place (like a few others) mainly because of Harry referring to Layla as his blue crayon.

LOVE YA!!

A bouquet of roses, it's leaves, and daisies for ya! <333

AAAAAAAAHHH! SHE'S BAAAACK! That was so fast. I cant believe you managed to power through that cringe fest in hours.

Thank you for the feedback!!! I really look forward to them. <3

Me literally splaying out on the couch to read your reactions!!!

P.S - You can be Layla's and Harry's Blue Crayon if you want :)