#⸻ ✧ serenity : mirror ‘a little bit of devil in her angel eyes '

[gcddamnvampire]

tag dump

[redglassesgirl-maruma]

Hello Everyone! 

A day like today 20 years ago the first novel of our beloved series was published in November 2000. This is an incredible anniversary and that’s why we’ll celebrate the whole month with events! 

I hope you can join this special occasion and contribute a little bit by sharing your posts and art here in tumblr.  

This is not the first event run by this blog, if you want to see what we did in previous years you can visit my tags MA Event,  MA Event 2017 and MA Event 2018.

The dynamic of the events is to have some deliver themes and inspiration divided in different sections. This event will run weekly, except for the last week of the month when we’ll have daily content shared to inspire you even more. 

Please save the date around the last weekend of November for our Live Chat! I’ll post more information about the exact date and time along the next weekly posts.

Update: Live Chat Sunday 29 at 1am Buenos Aires timezone GTM-3 You can check online comparing with your time zone here. We’ll meet and chat, share opinions, and play some games or draw together!

20th Anniversary MA Event - First Week Activity Share your MAlove, share your MArt! From November 1 to November 8

This week we’ll draw fanarts, write fanfics or make any other kind of media to celebrate the 20th anniversary of the series. We have list of 365 prompts in case you need a little bit of extra inspiration, please check under the cut and try to mix anything you pick with a festive mood to make it really special ;D

Remember to tag your posts with #MAnniversary 2020 and #MA Event

Links to the weekly event’s posts:

First Week (in this post) Second Week  Third Week Fourth Week | Monday | Tuesday | Wednesday | Thursday | Friday | Saturday | Sunday

Prompts:

01. Introduction

02. Love

03. Light

04. Dark

05. Seeking Solace

06. Break Away

07. Heaven

08. Innocence

09. Drive

10. Breathe Again

11. Memory

12. Insanity

13. Misfortune

14. Smile

15. Silence

16. Questioning

17. Blood

18. Rainbow

19. Gray

20. Fortitude

21. Vacation

22. Mother Nature

23. Cat

24. No Time

25. Trouble Lurking

26. Tears

27. Foreign

28. Sorrow

29. Happiness

30. Under the Rain

31. Flowers

32. Night

33. Expectations

34. Stars

35. Hold my Hand

36. Precious Treasure

37. Eyes

38. Abandoned

39. Dreams

40. Rated

41. Teamwork

42. Standing Still

43. Dying

44. Two Roads

45. Illusion

46. Family

47. Creation

48. Childhood

49. Stripes

50. Breaking the Rules

51. Fanart

52. Deep in Thought

53. Keeping a Secret

54. Tower

55. Waiting

56. Danger Ahead

57. Sacrifice

58. Kick in the Head

59. No Way Out

60. Rejection

61. Fairy Tale

62. Magic

63. Do Not Disturb

64. Multitasking

65. Horror

66. Traps

67. Playing the Melody

68. Hero

69. Annoyance

70. 67%

71. Obsession

72. Mischief Managed

73. I Can’t

74. Are You Challenging Me?

75. Mirror

76. Broken Pieces

77. Test

78. Drink

79. Starvation

80. Words

81. Pen and Paper

82. Can You Hear Me?

83. Heal

84. Out Cold

85. Spiral

86. Seeing Red

87. Food

88. Pain

89. Through the Fire

90. Triangle

91. Drowning

92. All That I Have

93. Give Up

94. Last Hope

95. Advertisement

96. In the Storm

97. Safety First

98. Puzzle

99. Solitude

100. Relaxation

101. Hello World

102. Fear

103. Anger

104. Regret

105. Happiness

106. Love

107. Family

108. Friendship

109. Home

110. Childhood

111. Adulthood

112. Birth

113. Death

114. Me

115. You

116. Thoughts

117. Emotion

118. Sun

119. Rain

120. Thunder

121. Noon

122. Midnight

123. Twilight

124. Rooms

125. Window to the Soul

126. Games

127. Halo

128. Serenity

129. Firefly

130. Phone

131. Movie

132. Television

133. Plants

134. Freedom

135. Forgetfulness

136. Remembrance

137. Memorial

138. War

139. Fight

140. Loss

141. Winning

142. Losing

143. Nature

144. Hurricane

145. Storms are brewing

146. Lightning

147. Colors

148. Bravo

149. Punishment

150. Picture

151. Another Wolfs

153. The Life You Dream Of

154. Dreams

155. Tears

157. Smiling

158. Laughing

159. Crying

160. Looking in the Mirror

161. Steam

162. Candy

163. Cats

164. Dogs

165. Glasses

166. Orbit

167. Satellite

168. Stars

169. Jade

170. Emerald

171. Gems

172. Dreaming Out Loud

173. Insomnia

174. Rabbits

175. Snake

176. Borders

177. The Year

178. This Time

179. Last Time

180. Forever and a Day

181. Sometimes

182. Always

183. Power

184. Weakness

185. Green

186. Purple

187. Blue

188. Sight

189. Blindness

190. Hurtful

191. Stages of grief

192. Arguments

193. Country

194. Frog

195. Forest

196. River

197. Flying

198. Mountains

199. Snow

200. Goodbye

201. Heart of Glass

202. My Life

203. Me In a Nutshell

204. Forever Yours

205. True Colors

206. My best friend’s girl

207. Impossible Love

208. Forgiveness

209. Fibers of Our Lives

210. Challenging Dream

211. Living My Dream

212. Forgetting Myself

213. Saving Grace

214. Lonely

215. Unbalanced

216. See-saw

217. Math

218. Match Making

219. Beyond Good and Evil

220. Second Sight

221. Double Take

223. Upon Review

224. Losing You

225. Baseball

226. Shouting

227. Farmland

228. Heartland

229. Brick Wall

230. Glass Houses

231. Eyes

231. Ring

233. Circle

234. Square

235. Boxes

236. Moving

237. Well Being

238. Insanity

239. Repetition

240. Learning

241. Class

242. Flowers

243. Special

244. Snowflakes

245. The Man They Call Jayne

246. Malicious

247. Pretty on the Outside

248. The Outside

249. Thankful

250. Neglect

251. Remorse

252. Embracement

253. Reflecting on My Life

254. Space

255. Constellation

256. Collection

257. Magic

258. Thrill

259. Attack

260. 20 Seconds to Mars

261. Unable

262. Foolish

263. Science

264. Sign of Life

265. Motto

266. Me

267. Balloon

268. Self Esteem

269. Narcissism

270. Ideology

271. Pageantry

272. Keeping Up With the Jones’s

273. Crack in Your Armor

274. Spilling Your Guts

275. Lean on Me

276. Crippling Emotion

277. Biggest Fear

278. Prejudices

279. Fresh

280. Corn

281. Sugar

282. Ice Cream

283. Accents

284. Speech

285. Writing

286. Doom

287. Shape

288. The Real You

289. My Name Is ____

290. Who are You on the Inside

291. Hidden Hatred

292. Hanging

293. Jacket

294. Jail

295. Stepping Up to the Plate

296. Star Player

297. My Hero

298. Castle

299. Losing Yourself

300. Finding Hope

301. Pirates

302. Fallen Angel

303. Drowning Lessons

304. Ghosts in the snow

305. Rawr.

306. Pidgeons… Birdy

307. Broken Hearts Parade

308. Paranoid

309. Vampires

310. Betrayal

311. Emmi&Rumura

312. The three friends

313. Horror

314. Mirror

315. Candlelight

316. Spider moneky

317. Devil

318. Flowers

319. Teddy Bear

320. Mist

321. Kingdom Hearts

322. Ferret

323. Vanilla

324. Thunder

325. Pinto Pony

326. M&Ms

327. Killer

328. Grass

329. Peace

330. Chibi

331. Mr. Klaw, polite Lion

332. Eternal

333. Star girl

334. Hats

335. Calvin & Hobbes

336. Misery (A cup full of something… unknown )

337. Hot chocolate

338. My Chemical Romance

339. Light in the darkness

340. Laughter

341. Nightmares

342. Necklace

343. Fire

344. Clorotaint and Treegirl

345. Swirls

346. Pokemon

347. Friends

348. Double Trouble

349. Do not cross

350. Unknowing

351. Chocolate

352. Time

353. A phone

354. Little kids on a playground

355. Darkness

356. A purple lady

357. Writer’s block

358. The dark corner in my room that I go to cry at (and a unicorn)

359. Sunglasses

360. The sun relaxing by an air conditioner

361. A girl fleeing from her nightmares

362. A girl staring at a blank canvas

363. A visual representation of poetry

364. Trolls

365. A hat

[feyborns]

AU IN WHICH NIMUE WAS NEVER SHOT WITH THE ARROW/OR SHE WAS SAVED AND REUNITED WITH THE REST OF THE FEY. Lancelot and Squirrel have also joined the camp, and it’s been a few weeks since they’ve all come together. (Pls don’t give me shit if something is not accurate. I loved the show and liked the theory of these two being a thing so PLS. Fan fiction is called fiction for a reason ok thnx)

The night was still, as the only thing to be heard was the crackling from the dying fire. Nimue silently curses herself for being one of the last few awake, as her eyes settle across the flames against the logs, they meet his. Was he a night owl as she was? Apparently so. A sigh emits into the vicinity, and she hates how quiet it is. Her village was always humming with life, and she clung the camp for the fey close to her heart as it mirrored her village in that aspect. Someone was always awake, up to something. Oceanic hues squeeze shut if only for a moment as she remembers their few days of bliss within those confines. Hidden away from the rest of the world. But most importantly, the Red Paladins. Optics narrow then, at the Weeping Monk. He’s given his true name, but she refused to give him the honor of using it. Even her thanks in saving Squirrel were limited. She loved that little boy, and hated that monk. His intentions were still unclear to her, and as she thinks of the Red Paladins, she’s reminded of his actions as well. He doesn’t meet her gaze from across the fire pit, but the way he avidly he avoids it shows he knows that she’s eyeing him carefully. Squirrel sort of looked up to him now. As any child would after being rescued in such a manner, but Nimue still held her guard up. She wouldn’t be considered Queen of the Fey if she was so easily trusting outsiders. Especially ones who had massacred his own kind. Still - it was clear that Father Carden had made his mark on him. Mentally and physically. And despite her best efforts, the heart kept behind those guards felt for him. Pitied him. Felt sad for him. Ripped away from his own culture, his people. Used as a puppet for majority of his life. Never knowing anything else. The way he saved Squirrel made something clear to Nimue, though. He couldn’t deny his true self, and when they came for a child, much like himself back then, they couldn’t allow them to murder him. He looked at Squirrel as if he was looking at a reflection of himself.

She’s stirred out of her thoughts only when he stifles up a cough from the back of his throat, meeting her gaze if only for a moment before averting it immediately back to the grass. “Something to say?” She questions, though she knows he was just trying to get her to stop eye boggling him. “No.” He mutters in that hushed tone of his, and for a moment she feels bad. She wished she didn’t. It would be so much easier for her if she was able to keep up this hardened shell toward him. It was, unfortunately, coming undone. He was an asset to the Fey, of course. He was an extremely skilled warrior. A master of the sword he weilded. It stirs an idea up within inside of her. “Could you teach me some of what you know?” Motions toward the weapon, and all he offers in response a swift nod.

A week later.

She’d never seen him so lively. So full of movements. But as he weilded the sword toward her, she’s awestruck. Father Carden was a beast, and a monster. A vile creature. But he surely toward Lancelot well. She’d retracted her earlier sentiment about using his given name - as their dusk meeting to fling swords at one another had become an every day thing. It seemed only respectful. If he was going to teach her, it was the least she could do. She felt like a master with the Devils Tooth already, but she knew it was the Hidden that guided her. There was room for improvement when it came to her fighting skills, and she found herself growing fond of the time they spent together. A part of her still hates herself for it.

“Distracted, today?” He questions, monotone as he is, he peers at her carefully. She shys away from his gaze, chocolate tendrils doing well to cast over her cheeks as she shakes her head.

“Never. Just awaiting your next move. I think I can already guess what it is.” She taunts, though there’s a mischievous grin settling upon crimson lips. And for the first time, she thinks ever, Lancelot is cracking the tiniest hint of a grin - before leaping forward into another lunge attack.

Two weeks later.

Sweat glistens in the rays of the sunlight, bouncing off the pairs bodies. They’d finished their practicing for the evening, and were now heading toward the lake to cool off. However, Nimue halts at the foot of the water, as Lancelot had already shed himself of his clothing, waist deep into the water. She’d only shown herself fully to Arthur - and he’s there in the back of her mind. Back at their makeshift camp, he was helping hunt for dinner. Gods, what’d he think of her right now? About to undress and indulge in a swim with someone who was once their enemy. It makes her stomach flip.

“Are you just going to stand there?” Applies the cool water to his long locks as he speaks, and she thinks herself he looks more so like an angel as opposed to what Father Carden had called him his whole life. A demon. She chuckles faintly, shaking her head. “Can you turn around?” He obliged without hesitation, and she appreciates that of him. Quickly, she’s tiffing off her garments, before slipping into the water. Careful to cover the entirety of her body.

He remains still though he had to of heard her come into the water. His back remains facing her, and it’s impossible not to notice the abundance of scars scattered about his shoulders and entire backside. It reminds her of her own, and she feels compelled to reach out and touch them. The pads of her fingertips smooth against the redness, soft. She didn’t want to startle him, but he tenses at the touch anyway. Something she expected. It’s abrupt, as he turns around, palm grasping fully at her wrist. “Don’t.” The single syllable leaves her frozen in place. Or perhaps it was his close proximity? A combination of both, she decides on.

“I’m sorry. We’re just... alike.” And she moves to find a grasp on the hand around her wrist, surprisingly he allows her to do so. The expression on his face was that if curiousity, as she moves his limb to rest against her shoulder blade, his fingertips mirroring her actions just seconds before. “See?” It’s a mere whisper, and when she lets go of him, he keeps it in place. Breath appears to be stuck in the back of her throat, and for a fleeting moment she’s thinking of Arthur.

It’s all flushed away as she makes a rather confident and last minute decision - pushing up the balls of her feet, it’s enticing as their lips meet for only a brief second. She’s petrified he’ll be disgusted. He’ll push her away - but wasn’t she supposed to be the one appalled with him here? Yet, he doesn’t move. He keeps the closeness between them, and she takes it as a motive to continue. Pressing full lips firmly against his own, petite hand finds place within his curls, and she feels as if she’s going to faint when he kisses her back.

It’s messy, and rough. Just like him. But she doesn’t mind. She never thought she’d want this, or stare at him long enough to wonder what his lips tasted like, but here she was. Finding the answer to that question. They tasted of salt, a mix of the water and the sweat from their pretend battle. Their tongues dance with one another, and goosebumps arouse her fair skin as his large hands find residence against her waist. Why was she craving this touch so badly? She doesn’t know, doesn’t have a clear answer. But as he does so, a muffled sound of pleasure emits into the others mouth, and she’s glad his eyes remained shut, as her cheeks flushed.

It’s as if her mind as gone completely blank, and all of her caution was thrown out the window. She’d never ached for someone this way, and she props one of her legs up around him, tugging him in flush up against her nude body. This earns a grunt of approval from him, and she yearns to hear more of them. It’s a swift action as her back is being pressed up against the side of the lake. Not a tactical place, but she wasn’t complaining as their lips continued to mesh together. She feels him between her legs, and can tell he’s not quite sure what he’s doing. It then dawns on her that he’s probably never done this before. Probably has never even kissed a girl before.

“It’s okay,” she whispers, breaking their kiss for a moment, her breath hot against his. “I want this.” Evidently she finds this is the only thing he needs to hear, pushing himself inside of her, slowly at first. The two’s noises of pleasure mix with one another in the air, as he’s beginning a rapid rhythm of thrusts inside of her. It was only the second time she’d done this, but why hadn’t the time with Arthur felt this good? Felt so right? It felt like Nimue and Lancelot were entangled within each other at this moment. Completely in their own world where the lust they silently held for one another could finally exposed and truly felt.

Grunts continue as his hands wander her body, exploring, and she likes it. It seemed as if he wanted to know every dip and crevice of it, as he was deep inside of her. Nimue’s head falls backward, mouth agape as his thrusts only quicken. He takes this opportunity, lips attaching to the exposed porcelain skin, nipping at sucking at the area. She feels ultimately euphoric as they reach their climaxes together.

It’s silent after, as he’s still inside her. Almost as if they’re both afraid to move and disturb the peace they’d just felt. However, the serenity could only last for so long, as he’s shifting his weight and moving a bit away from her, but not too far.

“Maybe we are,” he starts. “... alike, I mean.”

[camillesfm]

。· . ˙ ⌈ alva bratt + cis female + she / her + the  intangible concept ⌋  yo ,  have  you  meet  that  KOOK  ,  camille 'cj' petersen ,  yet ?  — no ?  well ,  to  give  you  a  little  heads  up  before  you  do  ,  they’re  a  TWENTY   year  old ,  PRE-LAW STUDENT  ,  and  have  been  living  in  coston  for  TWENTY . since  i’ve  known  them  ,  they’ve  reminded  me  of PALE PINK POINTE SHOES , CHAINS MADE OF WHITE CLOVERS , A PURPLE SKY JUST BEFORE SUNRISE , STEADY WAVES CRASHING AT LOW TIDE , AND SHATTERED & SCATTERED GLASS . usually  they’re  quite  LEVELHEADED  &  THOUGHTFUL  but  just  make  sure  you  keep  an  eye  out  for  them  around  town  because  i  heard  can  be  quite  RETICENT  &  ALOOF  as  well  so  here’s  hoping  they  aren’t  the  ones  to  undo  this  whole  peace  pact  they  have  going  on  this  summer .  but  just  between  you  &  me ,  i  kinda  hope it  all  falls  apart .  the  rivalry  keeps  this  whole  boring  town  interesting . –– this is cj . . . let’s just . . . dive into this mess ! 

𝐁 𝐀 𝐂 𝐊 𝐆 𝐑 𝐎 𝐔 𝐍 𝐃 .

scarlett petersen is a name known statewide, as she’s the best corporate lawyer on the east coast, clever as the devil and twice as pretty with long blonde hair often pinned into a sleek ponytail. david petersen got his degree at vanderbilt university, moving on to get his phd at unc chapel hill where he could never quite shake that carolina blue. he’s been sitting chancellor for the past six years in tandem with a long term sports-medicine, neuroscience research project that studies the long term affects of brain damage in athletes in contact sports. they both hail from old money families, and long lines of success are continued in two people who hold appearance and accomplishment far above humility or even . . . . humanity lol. they’re good people, really . . . just not really the parenting type.

which is unfortunate! as.  well into their marriage, they had twins, caleb, first, and camille, ten minutes later. bright eyed and blonde haired, the perfect petersen babies were angels in their infancy, and it was easy to parent them . . . especially when they were paying someone else to do it.

caleb and camille grew up under the watchful eye of a rosy-cheeked nanny. think julie andrews as nanny in eloise. they were happy, but lonely, though you’d never guess it by their wide smiles in cuddled family portrait christmas cards. for all anyone else knew, scarlett and david were perfect parents, raising two beautiful children who they loved more than anything . . . but behind that iron gated entryway to a house on the coast was another story.

they liked their kids, sure, but whether or not they loved them was another question entirely. camille, growing up to be the spitting image of scarlett, was liked in the way a rare porcelain artifact was. she was a beautiful thing to behold; seen, not spoken to. shown off, not interacted with in anyway. held with delicate hands and passed around as a humble brag: look at this precious thing i’ve brought into the world. i bet mine’s better than yours. 

but as time passed, the novelty of having children seemed to wear off, and they were moving to the next big thing, the next big step in their careers. they weren’t around when camille began going by cj because it was easier for little voices to say. they weren’t around when blonde ringlets relaxed and grew darker. they weren’t around when she started to develop a personality of her own, interests of her own, talents of her own. christmas cards would go out, but rarely were they all together on christmas morning. thanksgivings were often spent with grandparents, as their parents worked through the holiday. they spent more and more time away from coston, leaving cj and caleb in nanny’s capable hands.

but life goes on, and sometimes it was easy to forget that it was abnormal not to have your parents around. as a youngin, cj was interested in everything. she took a liking to soccer and lacrosse, painting and drawing, piano and guitar . . . but somewhere in between a blue mat and pale pink pointe shoes, she found her thing.

it was obvious, from an early age, that cj was one hell of a dancer. disciplined and precise when she needed to be. creative and passionate when it called for it. gymnastics trained her strength, ballet trained her patience, contemporary pushed her limits with creativity, partner work taught her teamwork. dance was very clearly her best thing and her favorite thing.

her parents only ever attended recitals when it didn’t conflict with anything else on their schedules and when it was classical ballet. dance was a frivolous thing for them, but for cj it was everything. being a naturally shy kid, naturally timid in the shadow of her last name, she became a completely different person on stage who dominated a spotlight . . . without even needed a literal spotlight. ultimately, this is what she spent her life doing. monday through thursday evenings, dance. competitions and performances on the weekends. if neither were happening, you’d catch her teaching classes at coston’s local studio.

it’s what truly made her happy, but that wasn’t something her parents understood. caleb and nanny did, sure, but her parents? not one bit. someone would ask what she wanted to be when she grew up, and if dance was mentioned, she’d be cut off mid-sentence. they didn’t want to hear about it because it wasn’t logical. you can’t make a career out of it. it didn’t help much that her brother was the ideal child in that realm, charming and on a path to success in the medical field. they still had questionable motives, but they favored nonetheless.

sometimes it was a blessing; sometimes it was a curse. when she could slip under the radar, she was grateful, but it seemed that her parents had a keen eye for her screwups. any chance they had, they’d use to scold her or nudge her away from the pointe shoes.

so cj spent a lot of time being pristine in the way that was expected of her, never letting anyone know too much about her, only keeping a few friends close enough to really know her. she stayed out of trouble, kept up exceptional grades, smiled and nodded when necessary, and began catering to the idea that she’d go to law school, a fate pre-determined by her mother no doubt. 

nowadays, she attends brown university, pre-law. she’s a picturesque ivy league gal with a dark academia aesthetic when at school, but there’s a restlessness lingering under the surface. even she’s doing what her parents require of her, she never seems to live up to their unrealistic expectations. we rly do be . . . . waiting for her to have a complete breakdown . . . . aklsdfjha

𝐏 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒 𝐎 𝐍 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐘 .

miss camille . . . better known around town as cj . . . is, above all else, the picture of serenity. she’s levelheaded and calm, and patient as all get out which is probably why she’s so damned accustomed to just going with what her parents thought of her. she’s really great to have in a crisis because very few things cause that steady nature of hers to crumble, and because she’s honestly. . . quietly very maternal. putting the needs of others before her own comes naturally.

she’s quiet and shy, yes, but just because she doesn’t speak doesn’t mean she doesn’t listen. she listens and sees and is . . . quite observant. there’s a way about her that notices the little things, which makes her quite thoughtful when it comes to the people she loves. if you’re lucky enough to be close to her, you can bet she quietly takes notes of little habits and favorites and carefully uses them to idk love ya better ya feel??

reticent comes from the fact that she doesn’t often let people get close to her. the way her parents treated her and caleb growing up has taken. .. . a toll for sure because honestly she’s terrified of disappointing people by shattering the mirror of perfection and revealing too much about herself that’s unexpected

aloof comes from the way she’s calm and quiet . . . and how that sometimes translates as apathy . . . on top of that she’s very daydreamy like she is That Bitch who is staring out of the window producing a whole move in her head which sometimes causes her to not hear when people are talking to her . . . cue the ‘hm? what?’ tuning back in

when i say cj is a different person when she’s dancing . . . . i mean it. like i REALLY mean it. she’s confident and expressive. her choreography tests the limits of tradition. she pushes boundaries when it comes to the physicality of performances. like u rly look at her being quiet and to herself in the corner at a country club event and then see her performing like she invented contemporary and ur like . .. . are u SURE that’s the same girl

people who know her most know her as warm. when she opens up, getting past the shy, she can be a little goofy, definitely has avery creative way about her, wants to know that you’re okay and if you’re not, how can she help ya know!! 

has a black cat named lucky because ya know . . . black cats are bad luck . . . ha ha ha ha . . . get it

the ‘j’ in cj is for her middle name . . . but no one really knows what her middle name is . . . except family and close, close friends 

absolutely hates the energy of the pogue/kook rivalry and thinks violence is most cERTAINLY not the way to go

often times found by the shoreline at night, just a little ways off from the petersen estate because she likes the way the waves sound as they roll in. it helps her think

is trying to make the best of law school by studying to become a defense attorney and she likes it! sort of! really, she just wants to dance for as long as she can and ultimately open up her own studio

definitely believes in wishing stars

bad case of insomnia

has a finsta dedicated to lucky

has a dance insta too . . . . but that’s lowkey bc her parents can’t know about it

please for the love of god watch this because charity and cj have the same energy

this also has cj energy

so does this . . . classical is fun when it’s telling a story and she loves a good pas de deaux but otherwise meh

my girl is physically . .. QUITE strong

says sorry WAY too often

incessant need to prove herself, prove her worth, since her parents never seem to find it

loves caleb sfm but will thump him in the forehead for mentioning he’s older

overachiever . . . . yikes

ABSOLUTELY burns the candle at both ends

idk if y’all watched high school musical the musical the series but gina . . . . . ..  minus the ‘mean girl’ plot they tried . . .. is v cj and bitch i hate to say it but neville longbottom??? also a cj mood LMAO

OK THAT’S IT THAT’S ALL THERE WE GO IT’S DONE I’M DONE GBYYYYYE BABIIIIE

[wwhkimseokjin]

highway to hell - chapter 4

pairings: bts x reader (bit of member x member too)

genres: seven deadly sins!au, devil bangtan!au, fluff, angst, smut

warnings: future smut, violence, death, swearing, NSFW, literal hell

summary: Y/N had always been the perfect daughter, the perfect student, the light in people’s life. She had always believed that she would never do anything wrong, be a perfect little angel. Until her life turns upside down, and she meets seven very handsome, very dangerous men.

Y/N had never truly had any regrets, she had always been lighthearted, seizing life as it was. Well, then again, the girl hadn’t in fact had a lot of occurrences she could regret. That was the way her life was going to be, how it always was going to be – or so she believed. But as she sat up in the bed and peeked beside her, only to discover the silhouette, that she least sought to see next to her – or perhaps the one she most wanted to see – Y/N couldn’t avoid regretting her actions. Regret encountering Kim Taehyung.

Now when she quietly there with her own thoughts, Y/N gathered that she had several additional regrets after knowing the overconfident boy. It was like the transcendent man had inserted himself into her life with a single purpose: wrecking it. Maybe that was just him, maybe she ought to have seen it coming. Kim Taehyung didn’t truly cherish her in any way, he just desired one thing. And now he had it.

Y/N groaned faintly - not loud enough to rouse the other resident in the bed though. It only truly struck her now, how atrocious she felt. Her head was thundering, and a ringing was in her ears. Only hazy memories occupied her brain. Recollections of shrill laughter and the reek of cheap liquor. Loud music and figures pushed against each other. Then there was Taehyung, his appearance blurry but somehow still distinct in her memory. The way he had sniggered at her drunken condition but persistently filled her cup. How the atmosphere had transformed so quickly, the blond whispering seductively in Y/N’s ears, directing her away from the masses. Then everything got too fuzzy, like she had gotten drunk off Taehyung’s honeyed words. Clothes torn off and tossed, insistent kisses on her neck, the room sweltering hot. Y/N could faintly recall his moans; how they sounded so heavenly, like an angel humming in her ear. The pleasure, the ecstasy - those things were unexpectedly clear in her head.

Y/N couldn’t remain there. She couldn’t stay next to Taehyung, who appeared so peaceful and serene in his sleep, when she knew how sinful he was. What had he done to her? Why was she behaving like this? Y/N had never done anything like this before, it wasn’t her. Meeting Taehyung had tainted her, and it was frightening. She couldn’t even identify herself – her own actions. Maybe…  was it because she loved him? But it couldn’t be. Y/N hardly knew him, they had only just met less than a month ago!

But maybe she did. Maybe she loved him. For as Y/N observed his slumbering form, she had to struggle with the desire to caress his cheek or kiss his tinted lips. She couldn’t deny, that her heart soared just from hearing his name, how it pounded swifter when he would study her… Shit, she was in love with him. Y/N’s eyes darted around the area, she really couldn’t remain there with him. Gently raising herself off the bed, she began dressing herself, only glancing at Taehyung once while doing so.

Unlocking the door, Y/N was almost successfully out of the unfamiliar dormitory, when a low voice stilled her in her tracks. “Where are you going?” Taehyung’s voice was gravely and – even though you wouldn’t have believed it to be thinkable – even deeper from the sleep. Y/N swallowed harshly, already noticing his impact on her, before spinning around to look at him. If sleeping Taehyung had been a glorious vision, then him sitting on bed, bare chest and disheveled hair, was a sight sent from Heaven. It was undoubtedly illegal to look this good, not that Y/N objected in that moment.

Stuttering for a bit, Y/N diverted her eyes from the nude male. The silence laid heavy in the room, and she could sense Taehyung’s protruding gaze on her. It was like he could see into her soul, know her deepest, most intimate secrets with just a glance. His laugh occupied the room, chuckling at Y/N’s embarrassed state. “Leaving already, princess? Where’s your manners now?” He arose from the bed, trying his best to provoke the girl in front of him. Staggering closer to her, he grasped her chin and brought her face closer to his own. Y/N’s eyes trekked downwards to dodge Taehyung’s gaze, but instead discovered the view of his now uncovered body. A gasp left her swollen lips, and she looked away, face turning beet-red.

“Have you got no shame? Prancing around like this?” Y/N glared at the spot right behind Taehyung’s ear, too ashamed to look anywhere else. The boy before her certainly had no shame, she had known that for quite a while now. “You weren’t complaining yesterday, princess. You aren’t complaining now.” His face was smug, and Y/N was beginning to ponder, if the smirk was permanently fixed on his face, from how much he appeared to carry the expression.

Y/N swiftly detached his hand from her face. She really had to leave. She knew, that if she gazed into Taehyung’s eyes, that she would stay. Or if he would kiss her right now, she would without question dissolve into his touch. Therefore, she opted to squeeze her eyes tightly, and whisper a faint I really have to go to the man positioned in front of her, before shuffling to the door. He didn’t speak, and when Y/N looked back at him, he just stood there, same dumb smirk on his face. In that moment before parting, Y/N pondered something. From what she had heard, Taehyung wasn’t exactly the keenest in the group. He might’ve not known a lot about math, or currently be flunking his Korean class, but there was no disagreeing with the fact, that he wasn’t as dumb as others assumed. Taehyung had at least one prodigy quality. He knew people. He was charismatic, he was a smooth talker, and even just with a glance, he could state the emotions someone was experiencing. That’s what Y/N realized right then and there. Taehyung knew she was in love with him.

Standing there, a few feet away from her, there was no denying the fact, that Taehyung very clearly had discovered her secret. And now it was even worse, because now Taehyung knew, that she knew. All of this was wrecking her head, the fervent hangover not aiding the assortment of emotions she was feeling right now. Spinning fleetingly on her heel, Y/N ran out of the room and found her way outside, not even turning once to look back.

•

Standing in her bathroom, Y/N observed herself in the mirror. Lightly dragging her fingers over the purple flowers blooming on her neck. She wouldn’t be able to conceal them, and her only hope was, that they would disappear before class tomorrow. Jihyo wasn’t home, but two of her other dorm mates were. Chaeyoung and Miyeon. Y/N hadn’t really conversed with them, possibly a couple of sentences with Chaeyoung, but they generally kept to themselves, and so did she and Jihyo. If they saw the marks on her, would they ask questions? Probably not, they’d all been there before. But Y/N couldn’t help but feel anxious, like Taehyung was still watching over her somehow. She felt truly bad, the blond male had changed her for the worse, her teen rebel years had arrived a little too late. But somehow all of this felt strangely… good.

Y/N had never really disobeyed the rules before, she had always been a good child. But maybe she would have defied the rulebooks sooner, if she knew, that challenging the guidelines felt so good. That the adrenaline rush after doing something foul, was so gratifying. Y/N smiled at herself in the mirror, and admired the love bites on her, before moving to her and Jihyo’s room.

Kim Taehyung was never going to go back to her with his strict one-fuck only policy. So, if Y/N couldn’t have Taehyung, she would just pursue the second best – his friends. From what she knew, most of them wouldn’t be too difficult to get into bed with. She would show Taehyung what occurred, when you messed with her emotions. And therefore, she commenced on a voyage of seducing Taehyung’s best friend – Jeon Jeongguk.

Y/N still knew however, that if Kim Taehyung even as much as glanced her way, she would be in a puddle on the floor again, prepared to take his each and every demand. As some would declare, that is the supremacy of love. But our main character was forgetting one thing. 

Love and lust aren’t - and never will be - the same thing.

Tags: @d-noona @rottenratatouille @bts-edits-bitch @chims-kookies @xxqueenwxtchxx @miraisnotavailable @xsmilebitesx💕

[thank-god-and-you]

Happy Birthday, @breakfast-at-bateses! I hope you’ve had a truly wonderful day! <3 You deserve it so much!

It was the unnatural warmth of the room that drew John’s attention first. During his life, he had been in many uncomfortable situations, in searing heat and in frigid cold, but this…this was unlike anything he had ever known. Grunting, he tried to shift away from the hot weight that was bearing down upon him and locking him in place. His sleepy mind conjured up vague memories of being a lad, of waking up with the heavy press of a large ginger cat across his chest, much like an unwanted hot water bottle on a humid summer’s day.

“Gerrof,” he muttered, not opening his eyes, swiping in the direction of the compression on his chest.

What his fingers came into contact with was definitely not fur.

It was silky-smooth, flowing. Frowning, he explored further, touching something else, something flesh.

A low groan. No, that was definitely not a cat.

“What’re you doing?”

The voice, accent thicker with tiredness, made him jump, and his eyes snapped open. He pushed himself up slightly, frantically looking to confirm what surely had to be a dream—

But no. This was very, very real. And the memories came flooding back.

Anna. Anna was here with him. She’d spent the night for the very first time, and none of it had been fantasy.

Now that sleep was receding, he could better wrap his head around it all. It was Anna’s head that he had felt firm against his chest; the rest of her body was vined around his lower half, her left arm flung across the paunch of his stomach, her breasts pressed to his side—he shivered at the realisation—her stomach rubbing sensually against his hip, her left leg thrown over his own.

“Wossup?” she continued, muffling her words against him, and he felt his heart expanding like a balloon inside his chest, the swirling feelings of affection and disbelief almost too much to bear. He scuffed his thumb over her shoulder blades, tracing the delicate outline of her bones. The romantic poet’s soul that Anna often teased was trapped inside his body wanted to declare her as carved by angels; she was as close to perfect as he was ever likely to see. She’d tell him that he was stupid if she ever knew that—after all, there was no such thing as perfection, and it was easy to forget about that when she started grousing at him about his bad smoking habit—but in this golden moment of peace and serenity, it was a thought he could not escape nevertheless.

“Sorry,” he murmured, pressing his palm to the small of her back in a bid to bring her even closer to him, no mean feat. “Go back to sleep.” He knew how dearly she hated early mornings, how early she had to rise for work in the week. She deserved a lie-in on a Saturday morning, and though he had always been an early riser, he could think of no better way to start his day than to remain right here by her side, soaking up the warmth of her body, listening to the comforting cadence of her breathing, enjoying the weight of her all along him.

Anna hummed, tucking her head further against him, and he closed his eyes to relish the sensation.

But then she stiffened. Pulled away.

His eyes shot open at once. Latent fear, fear that he had been working so hard to dispel, came rushing back in a tidal wave, and for that brief second he was right back in the past, back with Vera and her games. He was already primed to flinch away from acid words, derisive jibes about how low she’d stooped.

That blow, of course, never came.

Instead, Anna pulled the duvet up around her shoulders as she brought her knees up to her chin, her eyes glowing with wonder.

“So, last night really happened,” she said, a rose tinge infusing her cheeks. It was a colour that suited her.

“It did,” John agreed, pushing himself into a sitting position so he could rest his back against the headboard. In the soft morning light, he found that he was self-conscious all over again. Anna had mapped his body by the moonlight; his flaws had not been thrown into the sharp relief that they would be in the harsh light of day. For over ten years he had hardly been able to look at himself in the mirror; he would never be able to fathom how he didn’t repulse someone like Anna.

There was not one sign of regret in her countenance. Sighing, she shuffled closer to him, mirroring his position. Beneath the duvet which was still up to her neck, she found his hand. The touch startled him; instinctively, he opened his palm for her, and she slid her hand into his, her fingers twining delicately around his. He drew comfort from the surety in her touch.

“How are you feeling?” she murmured.

“Amazing,” he answered truthfully. “You?”

“Never better,” she replied, and his stomach did a funny kind of lurch as if it was doing backflips. She stared down at the duvet, her thumb moving up and down the side of his index finger with a tenderness that took his breath away. “I was sure that I’d wake up to find it had been nothing more than a dream.”

He snorted, unable to stop himself. “You thought that it would be nothing more than a dream?”

She fixed him with a look, the no-nonsense kind that he had come to recognise over the months they had been dating—it was one that was sent his way frequently, whenever she grew tired of his self-deprecating jabs. He doubted that she’d ever be able to fully stop them, but she certainly did a good job of quelling them for the time being.

“Yes,” she said, as if she thought he’d said something incredibly stupid. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time.”

It boggled his mind that she could say things like that, with such sincerity in her tone. Anna could have chosen any man she wanted, and yet she had decided that she wanted to spend her time with him. He was both grateful and honoured that she would do such a thing.

Unbidden, he flashed back to the way they had been under the cover of night, of the way that her lean, slight body had twined around his, how good she had felt pressed to him in that way. The echo of her moans, the memory of her hot, sharp breaths in his ear, the recollection of her quivering limbs…all of it served to spark something inside him. He shifted, bashful.

“It was pretty good, wasn’t it?” he said.

“I’d say it was more than that, Mr. Bates,” said Anna, a definite lilt to her tone. She edged herself even closer, turning a little so that she was facing him. He was powerless to resist as she halved the distance between them until her face was mere centimetres away from his. When she was this close to him, he found that it was difficult to concentrate on anything else; she stole into his mind and saturated his senses in a way that he’d thought was simply impossible. In such a short space of time she had become his beacon. Even in those early days with Vera he had never been struck with the sensation that returning to her was like coming home. He had never wrapped himself around her and felt that, at long last, he had found peace. Vera had been all tempestuous fire, like a raging sea in the heart of a storm, like the Devil stealing those souls from purgatory. Being with her had been exciting at first, he could not deny that, but that kind of fierce conflagration burned itself out far too quickly, leaving only ashes that scattered in the wind, those broken dreams that nothing could mend. Anna was everything that he thought he’d lost with his foolish, youthful decisions.

Coherent thought deserted him in the next instant as Anna’s mouth met his. She kissed him tenderly, raking her fingers through his hair, and he grasped her around the waist, enjoying the lightness of his spirit that he had thought had long gone.

But then there was a low growl.

Anna pulled away at once, her cheeks spilling over with colour once more. John blinked, unable to stop the smirk from spreading across his face as he cocked his head to one side.

“Was that your stomach?” he said.

She buried her face in her hands, all the confirmation he needed. Chuckling, he tugged her closer, nudging his nose against her.

“It’s not that bad,” he said.

“It is when I’ve spoiled the mood.”

“You’ve done no such thing. I daresay we’ve worked up an appetite.”

This time it was Anna’s turn to grin bashfully, and she peered at him between her fingers. “I suppose you’re right there.”

“There’s no suppose about it. I’m famished too.” He encouraged her to pull her hands away, then pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “How does breakfast in bed sound?”

Now she was positively beaming. “It’s been years since I had breakfast in bed. The last time was when I was ill at uni and Mary made me dry toast. It was revolting—you know she’s no domestic goddess—but I was touched by the sentiment.”

“Well, allow me to treat you like a princess on this fine morning,” said John. “Though I can’t promise that my offerings will be any less disastrous than Mary’s. I’ve spent too many years sticking to the basics.”

“You’ve impressed me so far,” she said, tongue in cheek.

He snorted. “Yes, that burned lasagne was a particular highlight.” He had thought himself the world’s biggest failure for that one, but Anna had quickly soothed his disappointment away, taking it all with her usual unfailing good humour and generosity.

“I managed to eat around the worst of the burned bits,” she giggled. “I’m sure I’ll manage the same this morning if the worst comes to the worst.”

“Charming,” he said, groaning as he heaved himself to the edge of the bed. “Well, you stay here. I’ll be back very soon to present you with the best ‘morning after’ breakfast you’ve ever had.”

“Don’t worry, I had no intention of moving anywhere else,” said Anna, flopping down into the space he had just vacated, humming appreciatively as the warmth from his side apparently soaked through her skin. “Nice view, by the way.”

John snorted. It had been a long time since he had last considered himself someone who might catch the eye of someone of the opposite sex, but the sincerity in Anna’s voice was breath-taking. For her benefit, he limped across the room even more slowly than usual, giving her time to take in all of him from behind. He could feel her eyes boring into him, and entertained himself by imagining her gaze drifting down to his backside. Christ, what had she done to him? It had been a long time since he had last acted like a ruddy peacock for a woman. That was something foolish young men did.

Anna made him feel like the years had rolled back.

He reached for his robe and slung it over his nakedness. Anna’s groan of disappointment made him grin.

“Won’t be long,” he said, not quite daring to glance over his shoulder in case the sight of her lying there ruffled in his bedsheets tempted the thought of treating her to breakfast in bed clean out of his mind.

His culinary skills were not as disastrous as he’d feared. He managed the toast with minimal effort and even dared to try his hand at scrambled eggs. They came out runnier than he’d have liked—his mother had always made the fluffiness of them seem trivial—but they were at least edible. His bacon was slightly charred, but only around the edges, so he hacked those off as best he could. At least he could make a mean cup of tea.

Suitably plated up, he balanced everything on a tray and made the precarious journey back upstairs to his bedroom. Juice sloshed slightly over the edges of the too-full glasses, but thankfully that was the only mini disaster that he encountered. He pushed the door open with his toes and entered the room.

“Breakfast is served, milady,” he announced.

Anna was no longer where he had left her; she was now sitting up in bed, cross-legged…wearing the jumper that she had divested him of in a bout of desperation only hours earlier. He stopped short. She cocked her eyebrow at him.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

He tried to speak, but no words were forthcoming. Besides, how would he possibly be able to articulate the confusing vortex of emotions that swirled around inside of him? It was primitive silliness, but seeing her wearing something of his made his heart beat faster and his throat dry.

“You wear that better than I ever have done,” he croaked at last, limping further into the room. She giggled, but it was true. It was miles to big on her; small and slight as she was, it absolutely buried her, the neck falling halfway down one shoulder, the sleeves well past her hands, the breadth and length of it covering  everything from his sight, but there was something unexplainably erotic about seeing her wear that. Somehow, it made everything seem realer.

“Silly beggar,” she said affectionately. “Bring that over here. I’m starving.”

He did so dutifully, shuffling back onto the bed and laying the tray across her lap. They ate in companiable silence for a while, exchanging knowing grins whenever they caught each other’s eye. At last, however, Anna spoke.

“Is there something wrong?” she asked, a light frown creasing her brow.

John started. “What? No, of course not.”

“You just seem a little more preoccupied than you ought to be—and it’s not a post-coital haze.”

He blushed at the baldness of her words, shoving the last corner of toast into his mouth. He chewed slowly to give himself time to mull things over before speaking again.

“I’m not preoccupied,” he said. “I’m just…thinking. If I’m honest, I can’t get over how a few months ago I wanted to learn your name and now you’re having breakfast with me in my sweater.”

Anna blinked at him, then burst into giggles. “If I’m honest, neither can I. Especially when you only wanted to learn my name so you could get my insurance details off me.”

“You were very reluctant to give them up, from what I recall.”

“You can’t blame me. My insurance is going to be horrific this year.”

“With the way you rear-ended my car, I’m not surprised.”

“Oh, please, that was hardly my fault. My brakes failed me in the snow. There wasn’t anything I could have done to prevent it.”

“Maybe you could have made the decision not to take a car famous for being useless in snow down a vertical hill?” he said and was rewarded for his cheek by a pillow to the face.

“I still had the last laugh,” she resumed primly, as if she hadn’t just walloped him one. “I at least was sensible enough to be part of the AA. They came and rescued me while you were left on the roadside. I bet you called me some right names.”

“I was a bit put out,” he agreed. Just thinking about that cold made him shiver; it had been bitter that day, and his knee had ached fiercely at being stuck out in such temperatures in such cramped conditions for so long. “And I was mortified that I was going to be late on my very first day.”

“You made it there eventually, though, didn’t you?” Anna said serenely, taking a sip of her juice.

“Two hours late, as I’m sure you recall.”

She snickered. “I have to say, your face was absolutely priceless. If I could have taken a picture of your expression when you realised that I was sitting in on the board meeting too, I would have done. It would have made great comedy gold with the Crawleys.”

“It did knock me off balance,” he admitted. His stomach had lurched unpleasantly to find her sitting there, on Mary Crawley’s right hand side, looking every inch the consummate professional when hours earlier he had exchanged angry words with her out in the billowing snow. And, beneath all that, he’d been reluctantly impressed that she’d managed to put herself together so very well when he’d staggered in snow-saturated and panting for breath.

“You could hardly bear to meet my eye.”

“I was horribly embarrassed to find you there when I’d spoken to you in a less than gentlemanly manner. I was sure that you were going to set against me from that moment on.”

She shrugged. “I’ve had worse levelled at me than what you did. And Mary has always told me that I’m too kind for my own good.”

“Something I am infinitely grateful for,” he said. It was true. These early months at Crawley’s had been good for him, but there had also been some sour experiences to mar his good spirits. Thomas Barrow and Sarah O’Brien had been constant, painful thorns in his side, and he had needed all the allies he could get in order to keep one step ahead of them. To no one’s surprise more than his own, Anna of all people had been his greatest supporter. She had defended him like a lioness might protect the cubs in her pride, and he had come to rely on her support more and more the longer he had known her.

Perhaps it had been inevitable that he should start to fall for her, too. She was quick-witted and energetic, kind and just, vivacious and cheerful. Not to mention beautiful to boot. Even in that first meeting, he had had to acknowledge on a deep-down level that she was incredibly pretty. Love was a thing of the past, as far as he’d been concerned, but she had sneaked past the line of his defences like a soldier penetrating enemy lines in battle. And he would never be able to thank her enough for taking him hostage and making him see that there could be light in his life after all.

Anna’s eyes were misty with distant fondness. “And after it was over I approached you and offered to buy you a coffee so we could start over on a proper footing.”

“You said more than that,” he reminded her. In actual fact, she’d told him that she’d buy him a coffee but that was the extent of it all—she’d let him know right from the beginning that she was strong and sassy when she told him that was all the favour he’d garner, sexual or no. He’d gone cold all over with horror and embarrassment that she’d say such a thing in public. Now, all this time on, he could laugh about it too. “And you went back on your word.”

Anna’s eyes danced mischievously. “I think you’ll find that you were the one giving the favours last night, Mr. Bates, not me.”

He cleared his throat, taking a swig of his own juice. “I suppose as long as you were satisfied…”

“Oh, I was. Immensely. I thought you might have known that.”

“I did. You made it quite plain.”

“There you are, then. Though you’d do well to wipe that smile from your face, John Bates. You look like the cat who got the cream.”

“Believe me, I feel like the luckiest bloke in the world right now. It’s hard to wipe the smile from my face when I feel so very blessed.”

“You’ve always been such a charmer.”

“I’ve not got much else going for me.”

She turned serious at that. “Don’t say that. You have plenty going for you. I’ve been waiting for a man like you to come along. Someone kind and loyal, someone who treats me like an equal and not just a trophy…”

“You will always be my equal,” he told her. The warm feeling that had been kindling in his chest all morning was spreading again, warming him to the very tips of his ears and toes. “I love you.”

For a moment, he didn’t even realise what he’d said. Not until Anna said, voice trembling, “W-What?”

It crashed over him then. He’d just told her that he loved her. He’d been nursing that in the deepest crevice of his heart, tending to that tiny flame, protecting it at all costs in case something came along to extinguish it for good, but it had grown to such a blaze that it was simply untameable. No doubt he would pay for that dearly.

“I just—” he started, stumbling, his mind sluggish as he tried to think of some way to downplay this and bring back the lightness of moments earlier, but her hand over his stopped him. When he glanced up, he found that her eyes were shimmering.

“Christ, I’m sorry—” he said, alarmed—the last thing he wanted to do was bloody make her cry!—but she shook her head, a small laugh escaping her.

“Don’t be sorry,” she said. “Definitely don’t be sorry. I was half-scared that I was at that point all on my own. I was prepared to wait for you to catch up…”

“And I was afraid that I had got too far ahead of myself,” he confessed. “I didn’t want to scare you away.”

“So it appears that we’re both silly beggars,” she said, moving the tray to one side. John’s brain seemed to be working in slow motion as she moved across the bed towards him, dropping herself into his lap once more.

“We hadn’t finished,” he said stupidly. “We’ve not touched our tea yet. I do hate cold tea.”

Anna arched an eyebrow. “You really care about tea at a time like this?”

She ground down on him pointedly, and his head fell back; he was unable to stop the groan that rattled from his chest.

“No,” he gasped, his hands slipping beneath the oversized jumper and grabbing onto her hips. She pushed him back down amongst the sheets, nipping at his ear.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I love you, I love you…”

The words were sweeter than honey, and the pleasure that followed was all the sharper for it.

By the time they were done, their tea was stone cold. And John Bates found that he didn’t mind at all.